CHAPTER XXV
Philippa, unusually early on the following morning, glanced at the emptybreakfast table with a little air of disappointment, and rang the bell.
"Mills," she enquired, "is no one down?"
"Sir Henry is, I believe, on the beach, your ladyship," the mananswered, "and Miss Helen and Miss Nora are with him."
"And Mr. Lessingham?"
"Mr. Lessingham, your ladyship," Mills continued, looking carefullybehind him as though to be sure that the door was closed, "hasdisappeared."
"Disappeared?" Philippa repeated. "What do you mean, Mills?"
"I left Mr. Lessingham last night, your ladyship," Mills explained,"in a suit of the master's clothes and apparently preparing for bed--Ishould say this morning, as it was probably about two o'clock. I calledhim at half past eight, as desired, and found the room empty. The bedhad not been slept in."
"Was there no note or message?" Philippa asked incredulously.
"Nothing, your ladyship. One of the maid servants believes that sheheard the front door open at five o'clock this morning."
"Ring up the hotel," Philippa instructed, "and see if he is there."
Mills departed to execute his commission. Philippa stood looking outof the window, across the lawn and shrubbery and down on to the beach.There was still a heavy sea, but it was merely the swell from the daybefore. The wind had dropped, and the sun was shining brilliantly.Sir Henry, Helen, and Nora were strolling about the beach as thoughsearching for something. About fifty yards out, the wrecked trawlerwas lying completely on its side, with the end of one funnel visible.Scattered groups of the villagers were examining it from the sands. Indue course Mills returned.
"The hotel people know nothing of Mr. Lessingham, your ladyship, beyondthe fact that he did not return last night. They received a messagefrom Hill's Garage, however, about half an hour ago, to say that theirmechanic had driven Mr. Lessingham early this morning to Norwich, wherehe had caught the mail train to London, The boy was to say that Mr.Lessingham would be back in a day or so."
Philippa pushed open the windows and made her way down towards thebeach. She leaned over the rail of the promenade and waved her hand tothe others, who clambered up the shingle to meet her.
"Scarcely seen you yet, my dear, have I?" Sir Henry observed.
He stooped and kissed her forehead, a salute which she suffered withoutresponse. Helen pointed to the wreck.
"It doesn't seem possible, does it," she said, "that men's lives shouldhave been lost in that little space. Two men were drowned, they say,through the breaking of the rope. They recovered the bodies thismorning."
"Everything else seems to have been washed on shore except my coat," SirHenry grumbled. "I was down here at daylight, looking for it."
"Your coat!" Philippa repeated scornfully. "Fancy thinking of that, whenyou only just escaped with your life!"
"But to tell you the truth, my dear," Sir Henry explained, "mypocketbook and papers of some value were in the pocket of that coat. Ican't think how I came to forget them. I think it was the surpriseof seeing that fellow Lessingham crawl on to the wreck looking like adrowned rat. Jove, what a pluck he must have!"
"The fishermen can talk of nothing else," Nora put in excitedly. "Mummy,it was simply splendid! Helen and I had gone up with two of the rescuedmen, but I got back just in time to see them fasten the rope round hiswaist and watch him plunge in."
"How is he this morning?" Helen asked.
"Gone," Philippa replied.
They all looked at her in surprise.
"Gone?" Sir Henry repeated. "What, back to the hotel, do you mean?"
"His bed has not been slept in," Philippa told them. "He must haveslipped away early this morning, gone to Hill's Garage, hired a car, andmotored to Norwich. From there he went on to London. He has sent wordthat he will be back in a few days."
"I hope to God he won't!" Sir Henry muttered.
Philippa swung round upon him.
"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "Don't you want to thank himfor saving your life?"
"My dear, I certainly do," Sir Henry replied, "but just now--well, I ama little taken aback. Gone to London, eh? Tore away without warningin the middle of the night to London! And coming back, too--that's thestrange part of it!"
One would think, from Sir Henry's expression, that he was findingfood for much satisfaction in this recital of Lessingham's suddendisappearance.
"He is a wonderful fellow, this Lessingham," he added thoughtfully. "Hemust have--yes, by God, he must have--In that storm, too!"
"If you could speak coherently, Henry," Philippa observed, "I shouldlike to say that I am exceedingly anxious to know why Mr. Lessingham hasdeserted us so precipitately."
Sir Henry would have taken his wife's arm, but she avoided him. Heshrugged his shoulders and plodded up the steep path by her side.
"The whole question of Lessingham is rather a problem," he said. "Ofcourse, you and Helen have seen very much more of him than I have. Isn'tit true that people have begun to make curious remarks about him?"
"How did you know that, Henry?" Philippa demanded.
"Well, one hears things," he replied. "I should gather, from what Iheard, that his position here had become a little precarious. Hence hissudden disappearance."
"But he is coming back again," Philippa reminded her husband.
"Perhaps!"
Philippa signified her desire that her husband should remain a littlebehind with her. They walked side by side up the gravel path. Philippakept her hands clasped behind her.
"To leave the subject of Mr. Lessingham for a time," she began, "I feelvery reluctant to ask for explanations of anything you do, but I mustconfess to a certain curiosity as to why I should find you lunching atthe Canton with two very beautiful ladies, a few days ago, when you lefthere with Jimmy Dumble to fish for whiting; and also why you return hereon a trawler which belongs to another part of the coast?"
Sir Henry made a grimace.
"I was beginning to wonder whether curiosity was dead," he observedgood-humouredly. "If you wouldn't mind giving me another--well, to beon the safe side let us say eight days--I think I shall be able to offeryou an explanation which you will consider satisfactory."
"Thank you," Philippa rejoined, with cold surprise; "I see no reason whyyou should not answer such simple questions at once."
Sir Henry sighed deprecatingly, and made another vain attempt to takehis wife's arm.
"Philippa, be a little brick," he begged. "I know I seem to have beenplaying the part of a fool just lately, but there has been a sort ofreason for it."
"What reason could there possibly be," she demanded, "which you couldnot confide in me?"
He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again there was a newearnestness in his tone.
"Philippa," he said, "I have been working for some time at a littlescheme which isn't ripe to talk about yet, not even to you, but whichmay lead to something which I hope will alter your opinion. You couldn'tsee your way clear to trust me a little longer, could you?" he begged,with rather a plaintive gleam in his blue eyes. "It would make it somuch easier for me to say no more but just have you sit tight."
"I wonder," she answered coldly, "if you realise how much I havesuffered, sitting tight, as you call it, and waiting for you to dosomething!"
"My fishing excursions," he went on desperately, "have not beenaltogether a matter of sport."
"I know that quite well," she replied. "You have been making that chartyou promised your miserable fishermen. None of those things interest me,Henry. I fear--I am very much inclined to say that none of your doingsinterest me. Least of all," she went on, her voice quivering withpassion, "do I appreciate in the least these mysterious appeals for mypatience. I have some common sense, Henry."
"You're a suspicious little beast," he told her.
"Suspicious!" she scoffed. "What a word to use from a man who goesoff fishing for whiting, and is lunching at the Carlton, some daysafterwards, with
two ladies of extraordinary attractions!"
"That was a trifle awkward," Sir Henry admitted, with a little burst ofcandour, "but it goes in with the rest, Philippa."
"Then it can stay with the rest," she retorted, "exactly where I haveplaced it in my mind. Please understand me. Your conduct for the lasttwelve months absolves me from any tie there may be between us. If thisexplanation that you promise comes--in time, and I feel like it, verywell. Until it does, I am perfectly free, and you, as my husband, arenon-existent. That is my reply, Henry, to your request for furtherindulgence."
"Rather a foolish one, my dear," he answered, patting her shoulder, "butthen you are rather a child, aren't you?"
She swung away from him angrily.
"Don't touch me!" she exclaimed. "I mean every word of what I have said.As for my being a child--well, you may be sorry some day that you havepersisted in treating me like one."
Sir Henry paused for a moment, watching her disappearing figure. Therewas an unusual shade of trouble in his face. His love for and confidencein his wife had been so absolute that even her threats had seemed to himlike little morsels of wounded vanity thrown to him out of the frothof her temper. Yet at that moment a darker thought crossed his mind.Lessingham, he realised, was not a rival, after all, to be despised. Hewas a man of courage and tact, even though Sir Henry, in his own mind,had labelled him as a fool. If indeed he were coming back to Dreymarsh,what could it be for? How much had Philippa known about him? He stoodthere for a few moments in indecision. A great impulse had come to himto break his pledge, to tell her the truth. Then he made his disturbedway into the breakfast room.
"Where's your mother, Nora?" he asked, as Helen took Philippa's place atthe head of the table.
"She wants some coffee and toast sent up to her room." Nora explained."The wind made her giddy."
Sir Henry breakfasted in silence, rang the bell, and ordered his car.
"You going away again, Daddy?" Nora asked.
"I am going to London this morning," he replied, a little absently.
"To London?" Helen repeated. "Does Philippa know?"
"I haven't told her yet."
Helen turned towards Nora.
"I wish you'd run up and see if your mother wants any more coffee,there's a dear," she suggested.
Nora acquiesced at once. As soon as she had left the room, Helen leanedover and laid her hand upon Sir Henry's arm.
"Don't go to London, Henry," she begged.
"But my dear Helen, I must," he replied, a little curtly.
"I wouldn't if I were you," she persisted. "You know, you've triedPhilippa very high lately, and she is in an extremely emotional state.She is all worked up about last night, and I wouldn't leave her alone ifI were you."
Sir Henry's blue eyes seemed suddenly like points of steel as he leanedtowards her.
"You think that she is in love with that fellow Lessingham?" he askedbluntly.
"No, I don't," Helen replied, "but I think she is more furious with youthan you believe. For months you have acted--well, how shall I say?"
"Oh, like a coward, if you like, or a fool. Go on."
"She has asked for explanations to which she is perfectly entitled,"Helen continued, "and you have given her none. You have treated her likesomething between a doll and a child. Philippa is as good and sweet asany woman who ever lived, but hasn't it ever occurred to you that womenare rather mysterious beings? They may sometimes do, out of a furioussense of being wrongly treated, out of a sort of aggravated pique, whatthey would never do for any other reason. If you must go, come backto-night, Henry. Come back, and if you are obstinate, and won't tellPhilippa all that she has a right to know, tell her about that luncheonin town."
Sir Henry frowned.
"It's all very well, you know, Helen," he said, "but a woman ought totrust her husband."
"I am your friend, remember," Helen replied, "and upon my word, Icouldn't trust and believe even in Dick, if he behaved as you have donefor the last twelve months."
Sir Henry made a grimace.
"Well, that settles it, I suppose, then," he observed. "I'll have onemore try and see what I can do with Philippa. Perhaps a hint of what'sgoing on may satisfy her."
He climbed the stairs, meeting Nora on her way down, and knocked at hiswife's door. There was no reply. He tried the handle and found the doorlocked.
"Are you there, Philippa?" he asked.
"Yes!" she replied coldly.
"I am going to London this morning. Can I have a few words with youfirst?"
"No!"
Sir Henry was a little taken aback.
"Don't be silly, Philippa," he persisted. "I may be away for four orfive days."
There was no answer. Sir Henry suddenly remembered another entrancefrom a newly added bathroom. He availed himself of it and found Philippaseated in an easy-chair, calmly progressing with her breakfast. Sheraised her eyebrows at his entrance.
"These are my apartments," she reminded him.
"Don't be a little fool," he exclaimed impatiently.
Philippa deliberately buttered herself a piece of toast, picked up herbook, and became at once immersed in it.
"You don't wish to talk to me, then?" he demanded.
"I do not," she agreed. "You have had all the opportunities which anyman should need, of explaining certain matters to me. My curiosityin them has ended; also my interest--in you. You say you are going toLondon. Very well. Pray do not hurry home on my account."
Sir Henry, as he turned to leave the room, made the common mistake of aman arguing with a woman--he attempted to have the last word.
"Perhaps I am better out of the way, eh?"
"Perhaps so," Philippa assented sweetly.