CHAPTER XIV
Mr. Fentolin, on leaving the dining-room, steered his chair with greatprecision through the open, wrought-iron doors of a small lift at thefurther end of the hall, which Doctor Sarson, who stepped in with him,promptly directed to the second floor. Here they made their way to theroom in which Mr. Dunster was lying. Doctor Sarson opened the door andlooked in. Almost immediately he stood at one side, out of sight of Mr.Dunster, and nodded to Mr. Fentolin.
"If there is any trouble," he whispered, "send for me. I am better away,for the present. My presence only excites him."
Mr. Fentolin nodded.
"You are right," he said. "Go down into the dining-room. I am not sureabout that fellow Hamel, and Gerald is in a queer temper. Stay withthem. See that they are not alone."
The doctor silently withdrew, and Mr. Fentolin promptly glided past himinto the room. Mr. John P. Dunster, in his night clothes, was sitting onthe side of the bed. Standing within a few feet of him, watching himall the time with the subtle intentness of a cat watching a mouse, stoodMeekins. Mr. Dunster's head was still bound, although the bandage hadslipped a little, apparently in some struggle. His face was chalklike,and he was breathing quickly.
"So you've come at last!" he exclaimed, a little truculently. "Are youMr. Fentolin?"
Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His eyes rested upon hisguest with an air of tender interest. His face was almost beautiful.
"You are the owner of this house--I am underneath your roof--is thatso?"
"This is certainly St. David's Hall," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It reallyappears as though your conclusions were correct."
"Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner here?"
Mr. Fentolin's expression was for a moment clouded. He seemed hurt.
"A prisoner," he repeated softly. "My dear Mr. Dunster, you have surelyforgotten the circumstances which procured for me the pleasure of thisvisit; the condition in which you arrived here--only, after all, a veryfew hours ago?"
"The circumstances," Mr. Dunster declared drily, "are to me stillinexplicable. At Liverpool Street Station I was accosted by a young manwho informed me that his name was Gerald Fentolin, and that he was onhis way to The Hague to play in a golf tournament. His story seemedentirely probable, and I permitted him a seat in the special train I hadchartered for Harwich. There was an accident and I received this blow tomy head--only a trifling affair, after all. I come to my senses to findmyself here. I do not know exactly what part of the world you call this,but from the fact that I can see the sea from my window, it must be someconsiderable distance from the scene of the accident. I find thatmy dressing-case has been opened, my pocket-book examined, and I amapparently a prisoner. I ask you, Mr. Fentolin, for an explanation."
Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly.
"My dear sir," he said, "my dear Mr. Dunster, I believe I may havethe pleasure of calling you--your conclusions seem to me just a littlemelodramatic. My nephew--Gerald Fentolin--did what I consider thenatural thing, under the circumstances. You had been courteous to him,and he repaid the obligation to the best of his ability. The accident toyour train happened in a dreary part of the country, some thirtymiles from here. My nephew adopted a course which I think, under thecircumstances, was the natural and hospitable one. He brought you to hishome. There was no hospital or town of any importance nearer."
"Very well," Mr. Dunster decided. "I will accept your version of theaffair. I will, then, up to this point acknowledge myself your debtor.But will you tell me why my dressing-case has been opened, my clothesremoved, and a pocket-book containing papers of great importance to mehas been tampered with?"
"My dear Mr. Dunster," his host repelled calmly, "you surely cannotimagine that you are among thieves! Your dressing-case was opened andthe contents of your pocket-book inspected with a view to ascertainingyour address, or the names of some friends with whom we mightcommunicate."
"Am I to understand that they are to be restored to me, then?" Mr.Dunster demanded.
"Without a doubt, yes!" Mr. Fentolin assured him. "You, however, are notfit for anything, at the present moment, but to return to your bed, fromwhich I understand you rose rather suddenly a few minutes ago."
"On the contrary," Mr. Dunster insisted, "I am feeling absolutelywell enough to travel. I have an appointment on the Continent of greatimportance, as you may judge by the fact that at Liverpool Street Ichartered a special train. I trust that nothing in my manner may havegiven you offence, but I am anxious to get through with the businesswhich brought me over to this side of the water. I have sent for you toask that my pocket-book, dressing-case, and clothes be at once restoredto me, and that I be provided with the means of continuing my journeywithout a moment's further delay."
Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very regretfully, but alsofirmly.
"Mr. Dunster," he pleaded, "do be reasonable. Think of all you have beenthrough. I can quite sympathise with you in your impatience, but I amforced to tell you that the doctor who has been attending you sincethe moment you were brought into this house has absolutely forbiddenanything of the sort."
Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for composure.
"I am an American citizen," he declared. "I am willing to listen to theadvice of any physician, but so long as I take the risk, I am not boundto follow it.
"In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for facilities toleave this house at once."
Mr. Fentolin sighed.
"In your own interests," he said calmly, "they will not be granted toyou."
Mr. Dunster had spoken all the time like a man struggling to preservehis self-control. There were signs now that his will was ceasing toserve him. His eyes flashed fire, his voice was raised.
"Will not be granted to me?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say, then,that I am to be kept here against my will?"
Mr. Fentolin made no immediate reply. With the delicate fingers of hisright hand he pushed back the hair from his forehead. He looked at hisquestioner soothingly, as one might look at a spoiled child.
"Against my will?" Mr. Dunster repeated, raising his voice still higher."Mr. Fentolin, if the truth must be told, I have heard of you before andbeen warned against you. I decline to accept any longer the hospitalityof your roof. I insist upon leaving it. If you will not provide me withany means of doing so, I will walk."
He made a motion as though to rise from the bed. Meekins' hand verygently closed upon his arm. One could judge that the grip was like agrip of iron.
"Dear me," Mr. Fentolin said, "this is really very unreasonable ofyou! If you have heard of me, Mr. Dunster, you ought to understandthat notwithstanding my unfortunate physical trouble, I am a personof consequence and position in this county. I am a magistrate, ex-highsheriff, and a great land-owner here. I think I may say without boastingthat I represent one of the most ancient families in this country.Why, therefore, should you treat me as though it were to my interest toinveigle you under my roof and keep you there for some guilty purpose?Cannot you understand that it is for your own good I hesitate to partwith you?"
"I understand nothing of the sort," Mr. Dunster exclaimed angrily. "Letus bring this nonsense to an end. I want my clothes, and if you won'tlend me a car or a trap, I'll walk to the nearest railway station."
Mr. Fentolin shook his head.
"I am quite sure," he said, "that you are not in a position to travel.Even in the dining-room just now I heard a disturbance for which I wastold that you were responsible."
"I simply insisted upon having my clothes," Mr. Dunster explained. "Yourservant refused to fetch them. Perhaps I lost my temper. If so, I amsorry. I am not used to being thwarted."
"A few days' rest--" Mr. Fentolin began.
"A few days' rest be hanged!" Mr. Dunster interrupted fiercely. "Listen,Mr. Fentolin," he added, with the air of one making a last effort topreserve his temper, "the mission with which I am charged is one ofgreater importance than you can imagine. So much depends upon it thatmy own
life, if that is in danger, would be a mere trifle in comparisonwith the issues involved. If I am not allowed to continue upon myjourney at once, the consequences may be more serious than I can tellyou, to you and yours, to your own country. There!--I am telling you agreat deal, but I want you to understand that I am in earnest. I have amission which I must perform, and which I must perform quickly."
"You are very mysterious," Mr. Fentolin murmured.
"I will leave nothing to chance," Mr. Dunster continued. "Send this manwho seems to have constituted himself my jailer out of earshot, and Iwill tell you even more."
Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins.
"You can leave the room for a moment," he ordered. "Wait upon thethreshold."
Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey.
"You will excuse me, sir," he objected doubtfully, "but I am not at allsure that he is safe."
Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly.
"You need have no fear, Meekins," he declared. "I am quite sure thatyou are mistaken. I think that Mr. Dunster is incapable of any act ofviolence towards a person in my unfortunate position. I am willing totrust myself with him--perfectly willing, Meekins."
Meekins, with ponderous footsteps, left the room and closed the doorbehind him. Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. Itseemed as though he were on springs. The fingers of his right handhad disappeared in the pocket of his black velvet dinner-coat. He wascertainly prepared for all emergencies.
"Now, Mr. Dunster," he said softly, "you can speak to me withoutreserve."
Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became one of fierce eagerness.
"Look here," he exclaimed, "I don't think you ought to force me to givemyself away like this, but, after all, you are an Englishman, with astake in your country, and I presume you don't want her to take aback seat for the next few generations. Listen here. It's to save yourcountry that I want to get to The Hague without a second's delay. I tellyou that if I don't get there, if the message I convey doesn't reachits destination, you may find an agreement signed between certain Powerswhich will mean the greatest diplomatic humiliation which Great Britainhas ever known. Aye, and more than that!" Mr. Dunster continued. "Itmay be that the bogey you've been setting before yourself for allthese years may trot out into life, and you may find St. David's Hall abarrack for German soldiers before many months have passed."
Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief.
"You are speaking to one," he declared, "who knows more of the politicalsituation than you imagine. In my younger days I was in the ForeignOffice. Since my unfortunate accident I have preserved the keenestinterest in politics. I tell you frankly that I do not believe you. Asthe Powers are grouped at present, I do not believe in the possibilityof a successful invasion of this country."
"Perhaps not," Mr. Dunster replied eagerly, "but the grouping of thePowers as it has existed during the last few years is on the eve of agreat change. I cannot take you wholly into my confidence. I can onlygive you my word of honour as a friend to your country that the messageI carry is her only salvation. Having told you as much as that, I donot think I am asking too much if I ask you for my clothes anddressing-case, and for the fastest motor-car you can furnish me with.I guess I can get from here to Yarmouth, and from there I can chartersomething which will take me to the other side."
Mr. Fentolin raised the little gold whistle to his lips and blew it verysoftly. Meekins at once entered, closing the door behind him. He movedsilently to the side of the man who had risen now from the bed, and whowas standing with his hand grasping the post and his eyes fixed upon Mr.Fentolin, as though awaiting his answer.
"Our conversation," the latter said calmly, "has reached a point, Mr.Dunster, at which I think we may leave it for the moment. You havetold me some very surprising things. I perceive that you are a moreinteresting visitor even than I had thought."
He raised his left hand, and Meekins, who seemed to have been waitingfor some signal of the sort, suddenly, with a movement of his knee andright arm, flung Dunster back upon the bed. The man opened his mouthto shout, but already, with lightning-like dexterity, his assailanthad inserted a gag between his teeth. Treating his struggles as thestruggles of a baby, Meekins next proceeded to secure his wrists withhandcuffs. He then held his feet together while he quietly wound a coilof cord around them. Mr. Fentolin watched the proceedings from his chairwith an air of pleased and critical interest.
"Very well done, Meekins--very neatly done, indeed!" he exclaimed. "AsI was saying, Mr. Dunster," he continued, turning his chair, "ourconversation has reached a point at which I think we may safely leaveit for a time. We will discuss these matters again. Your pretext of apolitical mission is, of course, an absurd one, but fortunately you havefallen into good hands. Take good care of Mr. Dunster, Meekins. I cansee that he is a very important personage. We must be careful not tolose sight of him."
Mr. Fentolin steered his chair to the door, opened it, and passedout. On the landing he blew his whistle; the lift almost immediatelyascended. A moment or two later he glided into the dining-room. Thethree men were still seated around the table. A decanter of wine, almostempty, was before Doctor Sarson, whose pallid cheeks, however, were asyet unflushed.
"At last, my dear guest," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, turning to Hamel, "Iam able to return to you. If you will drink no more wine, let us haveour coffee in the library, you and I. I want to talk to you about theTower."