Read The Vanished Messenger Page 21


  CHAPTER XXI

  "To-day," Hamel declared, as he stood at the sideboard the followingmorning at breakfast-time and helped himself to bacon and eggs, "I ampositively going to begin reading. I have a case full of books down atthe Tower which I haven't unpacked yet."

  Esther made a little grimace.

  "Look at the sunshine," she said. "There isn't a breath of wind, either.I think to-day that I could play from the men's tees."

  Hamel sighed as he returned to his place.

  "My good intentions are already half dissipated," he admitted.

  She laughed.

  "How can we attack the other half?" she asked.

  Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, suddenly stopped.

  "Hullo!" he exclaimed, looking out of the window. "Who's going away thismorning, I wonder? There's the Rolls-Royce at the door."

  Hamel, too, rose once more to his feet. The two exchanged swift glances.Moved by a common thought, they both started for the door, only to findit suddenly opened before them. Mr. Fentolin glided into the room.

  "Uncle!" Gerald exclaimed.

  Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room.

  "Good morning, everybody," he said. "My appearance at this hour of themorning naturally surprises you. As a matter of fact, I have been up forquite a long time. Esther dear, give me some coffee, will you, and besure that it is hot. If any of you want to say good-by to Mr. John P.Dunster, you'd better hurry out."

  "You mean that he is going?" Hamel asked incredulously.

  "He is going," Mr. Fentolin admitted. "I wash my hands of the man.He has given us an infinite amount of trouble, has monopolised DoctorSarson when he ought to have been attending upon me--a little more hotmilk, if you please, Esther--and now, although he really is not fitto leave his room, he insists upon hurrying off to keep an appointmentsomewhere on the Continent. The little operation we spoke of last nightwas successful, as Doctor Sarson prophesied, and Mr. Dunster was quiteconscious and able to sit up early this morning. We telephoned at sixo'clock to Norwich for a surgeon, who is now on his way over here,but he will not wait even to see him. What can you do with a man soobstinate!"

  Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. The former, after amoment's hesitation, turned towards the door.

  "I think," he said, "that I should like to see the last of Mr. Dunster."

  "Pray do," Mr. Fentolin begged. "I have said good-by to him myself, andall that I hope is that next time you offer a wayfarer the hospitalityof St. David's Hall, Gerald, he may be a more tractable person. Thismorning I shall give myself a treat. I shall eat an old-fashionedEnglish breakfast. Close the door after you, if you please, Gerald."

  Hamel, with Gerald by his side, hurried out into the hall. Just as theycrossed the threshold they saw Mr. Dunster, wrapped from head to footin his long ulster, a soft hat upon his head and one of Mr. Fentolin'scigars in his mouth, step from the bottom stair into the hall and makehis way with somewhat uncertain footsteps towards the front door. DoctorSarson walked on one side, and Meekins held him by the arm. He glancedtowards Gerald and his companion and waved the hand which held hiscigar.

  "So long, my young friend!" he exclaimed. "You see, I've got them tolet me make a start. Next time we go about the country in a saloon cartogether, I hope we'll have better luck. Say, but I'm groggy about theknees!"

  "You'd better save your breath," Doctor Sarson advised him grimly. "Youhaven't any to spare now, and you'll want more than you have before youget to the end of your journey. Carefully down the steps, mind."

  They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald stood under the greatstone portico, watching.

  "Well, I'm jiggered!" the boy exclaimed, under his breath.

  Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To hissurprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying thedeparting man.

  "He's off, right enough," Hamel declared, as the car glided away. "Doyou understand it? I don't."

  Gerald did not speak for several moments. His eyes were still fixed uponthe back of the disappearing car. Then he turned towards Hamel.

  "There isn't much," he said softly, "that Mr. Fentolin doesn't know. Ifthat detective was really on his way here, there wasn't any chanceof keeping Mr. Dunster to himself. You see, the whole story is commonproperty. And yet, there's something about the affair that bothers me."

  "And me," Hamel admitted, watching the car until it became a speck inthe distance.

  "He was fairly well cornered," Gerald concluded, as they made their wayback to the dining-room, "but it isn't like him to let go of anything soeasily."

  "So you've seen the last of our guest," Mr. Fentolin remarked, as Hameland Gerald re-entered the dining-room. "A queer fellow--almost a newtype to me. Dogged and industrious, I should think. He hadn't the leastright to travel, you know, and I think so long as we had taken thetrouble to telephone to Norwich, he might have waited to see thephysician. Sarson was very angry about it, but what can you do withthese fellows who are never ill? They scarcely know what physicaldisability means. Well, Mr. Hamel, and how are you going to amuseyourself to-day?"

  "I had thought of commencing some reading I brought with me," Hamelreplied, "but Miss Esther has challenged me to another game of golf."

  "Excellent!" Mr. Fentolin declared. "It is very kind of you indeed,Mr. Hamel. It is always a matter of regret for me that society in theseparts is so restricted. My nephew and niece have little opportunity forenjoying themselves. Play golf with Mr. Hamel, by all means, my dearchild," he continued, turning to his niece. "Make the most of thisglorious spring weather. And what about you, Gerald? What are you doingto-day?"

  "I haven't made up my mind yet, sir," the boy replied.

  Mr. Fentolin sighed.

  "Always that lack of initiative," he remarked. "A lack of initiative isone of your worst faults, I am afraid, dear Gerald."

  The boy looked up quickly. For a moment it seemed as though he wereabout to make a fierce reply. He met Mr. Fentolin's steady gaze,however, and the words died away upon his lips.

  "I rather thought," he said, "of going into Norwich, if you could spareme. Captain Holt has asked me to lunch at the Barracks."

  Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently.

  "It is most unfortunate," he declared. "I have a commission for youlater in the day."

  Gerald continued his breakfast in silence. He bent over his plate sothat his face was almost invisible. Mr. Fentolin was peeling a peach. Aservant entered the room.

  "Lieutenant Godfrey, sir," he announced.

  They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard-featured young man innaval uniform was standing upon the threshold. He bowed to Esther.

  "Very sorry to intrude, sir, at this hour of the morning," he saidbriskly. "Lieutenant Godfrey, my name. I am flag lieutenant of theBritannia. You can't see her, but she's not fifty miles off at thisminute. I landed at Sheringham this morning, hired a car and made thebest of my way here. Message from the Admiral, sir."

  Mr. Fentolin smiled genially.

  "We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey," he said. "Have somebreakfast."

  "You are very good, sir," the officer answered. "Business first.I'll breakfast afterwards, with pleasure, if I may. The Admiral'scompliments, and he would take it as a favour if you would haul downyour wireless for a few days."

  "Haul down my wireless," Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly.

  "We are doing a lot of manoeuvring within range of you, and likely to doa bit more," the young man explained. "You are catching up our messagesall the time. Of course, we know they're quite safe with you, but thingsget about. As yours is only a private installation, we'd like you, ifyou don't mind, sir, to shut up shop for a few days."

  Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled.

  "But, my dear sir," he protested, "we are not at war, are we?"

  "Not yet," the young officer replied, "but God knows when we shall be!We are under sealed orders, anyway, and we don't want any risk of ourplans leaking out. Th
at's why we want your wireless disconnected."

  "You need say no more," Mr. Fentolin assured him. "The matter is alreadyarranged. Esther, let me present Lieutenant Godfrey--my niece, MissFentolin; Mr. Gerald Fentolin, my nephew; Mr. Hamel, a guest. See thatLieutenant Godfrey has some breakfast, Gerald. I will go myself and seemy Marconi operator."

  "Awfully good of you, sir," the young man declared, "and I am sure weare very sorry to trouble you. In a week or two's time you can go intobusiness again as much as you like. It's only while we are fiddlingaround here that the Admiral's jumpy about things. May my man have a cupof coffee, sir? I'd like to be on the way back in a quarter of an hour."

  Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it.

  "Pray make use of my house as your own, sir," he said gravely. "Fromwhat you leave unsaid, I gather that things are more serious than thepapers would have us believe. Under those circumstances, I need notassure you that any help we can render is entirely yours."

  Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey was already attacking hisbreakfast. Gerald leaned towards him eagerly.

  "Is there really going to be war?" he demanded.

  "Ask those chaps at The Hague," Lieutenant Godfrey answered. "Doingtheir best to freeze us out, or something. All I know is, if there'sgoing to be fighting, we are ready for them. By-the-by, what have yougot wireless telegraphy for here, anyway?"

  "It's a fad of my uncle's," Gerald replied. "Since his accident heamuses himself in all sorts of queer ways."

  Lieutenant Godfrey nodded.

  "Poor fellow!" he said. "I heard he was a cripple, or something of thesort. Forgive my asking, but--you people are English, aren't you?"

  "Rather!" Gerald answered. "The Fentolins have lived here for hundredsof years. Why do you ask that?"

  Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the moment, scarcely at hisease.

  "Oh, I don't know," he replied. "The old man was very anxious I shouldfind out. You see, a lot of information seems to have got over onthe other side, and we couldn't think where it had leaked out, exceptthrough your wireless. However, that isn't likely, of course, unlessyou've got one of these beastly Germans in your receiving-room. Now if Ican borrow a cigarette, a cigar, or a pipe of tobacco--any mortalthing to smoke--I'll be off, if I may. The old man turned me out atan unearthly hour this morning, and in Sheringham all the shops wereclosed. Steady on, young fellow," he laughed, as Gerald filled hispockets with cigarettes. "Well, here's good morning to you, MissFentolin. Good morning, sir. How long ought it to take me to get toSheringham?"

  "About forty minutes," Gerald told him, "if your car's any good at all."

  "It isn't much," was the somewhat dubious reply. "However, we'll shovealong. You in the Service?" he enquired, as they walked down the halltogether.

  "Hope I shall be before long," Gerald answered. "I'm going into thearmy, though."

  "Have to hurry up, won't you?"

  Gerald sighed.

  "It's a little difficult for me. Here's your car. Good luck to you!"

  "My excuses to Mr. Fentolin," Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, "and manythanks."

  He jumped into the automobile and was soon on his way back. Geraldwatched him until he was nearly out of sight. On the knoll, two of thewireless operators were already at work. Mr. Fentolin sat in his chairbelow, watching. The blue sparks were flashing. A message was just beingdelivered. Presently Mr. Fentolin turned his chair, and with Meekins byhis side, made his way back to the house. He passed along the hall andinto his study. Gerald, who was on his way to the dining-room, heard thering of the telephone bell and the call for the trunk special line. Hehesitated for a moment. Then he made his way slowly down towards thestudy and stood outside the door, listening. In a moment he heard Mr.Fentolin's clear voice, very low yet very penetrating.

  "The Mediterranean Fleet will be forty-seven hours before it comestogether," was the message he heard. "The Channel Fleet will manoeuvreoff Sheerness, waiting for it. The North Sea Fleet is seventeen unitsunder nominal strength."

  Gerald turned the handle of the door slowly and entered. Mr. Fentolinwas just replacing the receiver on its stand. He looked up at hisnephew, and his eyebrows came together.

  "What do you mean by this?" he demanded. "Don't you know that I allow noone in here when I am telephoning on the private wire?"

  Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage.

  "It is because I have heard what you were saying over the telephone thatI am here," he declared. "I want to know to whom you were sending thatmessage which you have intercepted outside."