CHAPTER XXVI
Philippa, late that afternoon, found what she sought--solitude. She hadwalked along the sands until Dreymarsh lay out of sight on the otherside of a spur of the cliffs. Before her stretched a long and levelplain, a fringe of sand, and a belt of shingly beach. There was not asign of any human being in sight, and of buildings only a quaint toweron the far horizon.
She found a dry place on the pebbles, removed her hat and sat down, herhands clasped around her knees, her eyes turned seaward. She hadcome out here to think, but it was odd how fugitive and transient herthoughts became. Her husband was always there in the background, butin those moments it was Lessingham who was the predominant figure. Sheremembered his earnestness, his tender solicitude for her, the couragewhich, when necessity demanded, had flamed up in him, a born and naturalquality. She remembered the agony of those few minutes on the precedingday, when nothing but what still seemed a miracle had saved him. At onemoment she felt herself inclined to pray that he might never come back.At another, her heart ached to see him once more. She knew so wellthat if he came it would be for her sake, that he would come to ask herfinally the question with which she had fenced. She knew, too, that hiscoming would be the moment of her life. She was so much of a woman, andthe passionate craving of her sex to give love for love was there in herheart, almost omnipotent. And in the background there was that bitterdesire to bring suffering upon the man who had treated her like a child,who had placed her in a false position with all other women, who haddawdled and idled away his days, heedless of his duty, heedless of everyserious obligation. When she tried to reason, her way seemed so clear,and yet, behind it all, there was that cold impulse of almost Victorianprudishness, the inheritance of a long line of virtuous women, aprudishness which she had once, when she had believed that it was partof her second nature, scoffed at as being the outcome of one of thefiner forms of selfishness.
She told herself that she had come there to decide, and decision came nonearer to her. A late afternoon star shone weakly in the sky. A faint,vaporous mist obscured the horizon and floated in tangled wreaths uponthe face of the sea. Only that line of sand seemed still clear-cut anddistinct, and as she glanced along it her eyes were held by somethingapproaching, something which seemed at first nothing but a black, movingspeck, then gradually resolved itself into the semblance of a man onhorseback, galloping furiously. She watched him as he drew nearer andnearer, the sand flying from his horse's hoofs, his figure motionless,his eyes apparently fixed upon some distant spot. It was not until hehad come within fifty yards of her that she recognised him. His horseshied at the sight of her and was suddenly swung round with a powerfulwrist. Little specks of sand, churned up in the momentary stampedeof hoofs, fell upon her skirt. For the rest, she watched the strugglecomposedly, a struggle which was over almost as soon as it was begun.Captain Griffiths leaned down from his trembling but subdued horse.
"Lady Cranston!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"That's me," she replied, smiling up at him. "Have you been riding offyour bad temper?"
He glanced down at his horse's quivering sides. Back as far as one couldsee there was that regular line of hoof marks.
"Am I bad-tempered?" he asked.
"Well," she observed, "I don't know you well enough to answer thatquestion. I was simply thinking of yesterday evening."
He slipped from his horse and stood before her. His long, severe facehad seldom seemed more malevolent.
"I had enough to make me bad-tempered," he declared. "I had trackeddown a German spy, step by step, until I had him there, waiting forarrest--expecting it, even--and then I got that wicked message."
"What was that wicked message after all?" she enquired.
"That doesn't matter," he answered. "It was from a quarter where theyought to know better, and it ordered me to make no arrest. I have sentto the War Office to-day a full report, and I am praying that they maychange their minds."
Philippa sighed.
"If you hadn't received that telegram last night," she observed, "itseems to me that I should have been a widow to-day."
He frowned, and struck his boot heavily with his riding whip.
"Yes, I heard of that," he admitted. "I dare say if he hadn't gone,though, some one else would."
"Would you have gone if you had been there?" she asked.
"If you had told me to," he replied, looking at her steadfastly.
Philippa felt a little shiver. There was something ominous in theintensity of his gaze and the meaning which he had contrived to impartto his tone. She rose to her feet.
"Well," she said, "don't let me keep you here. I am getting cold."
He passed his arm through the bridle of his horse. "I will walk withyou, if I may," he proposed. She made no reply, and they set their faceshomewards.
"I hear Lessingham has left the place," he remarked, a little abruptly.
"Oh, I expect he'll come back," Philippa replied.
"How long is it, Lady Cranston, since you took to consorting with Germanspies?" he asked.
"Don't be foolish--or impertinent," she enjoined. "You are making aridiculous mistake about Mr. Lessingham."
He laughed unpleasantly.
"No need for us to fence," he said. "You and I know who he is. What Ido want to know, what I have been wondering all the way from the pointthere--four miles of hard galloping and one question--why are you hisfriend? What is he to you?"
"Really, Captain Griffiths," she protested, looking up at him, "of whatpossible interest can that be to you?"
"Well, it is, anyhow," he answered gruffly. "Anything that concerns youis of interest to me."
Philippa realised at that moment, perhaps for the first time, what itall meant. She realised the significance of those apparently purposelessafternoon calls, when through sheer boredom she had had to send forHelen to help her out; the significance of those long silences, themelancholy eyes which seemed to follow her movements. She felt anunaccountable desire to laugh, and then, at the first twitchings of herlips, she restrained herself. She knew that tragedy was stalking by herside.
"I think, Captain Griffiths," she said gravely, "that you are talkingnonsense, and you are not a very good hand at it. Won't you please rideon?"
He made no movement to mount his horse. He plodded along the soft sandby her side--a queer, elongated figure, his gloomy eyes fixed upon theground.
"Until this fellow Lessingham came you were never so hard," hepersisted.
She looked at him with genuine curiosity.
"I was never so hard?" she repeated. "Do you imagine that I have everfor a single moment considered my demeanour towards you--you of allpersons in the world? I simply don't remember when you have been thereand when you haven't. I don't remember the humours in which I have beenwhen we have conversed. All that you have said seems to me to be themost arrant nonsense."
He swung himself into the saddle and gathered up the reins.
"Thank you," he said bitterly, "I understand. Only let me tell youthis," he went on, his whip poised in his hand. "You may have powerfulfriends who saved your--"
He hesitated so long that she glanced up at him and read all that he hadwished to say in his face.
"My what?" she asked.
His courage failed him.
"Mr. Lessingham," he proceeded, "from arrest. But if he shows his facehere again in Dreymarsh, I sha'n't stop to arrest him. I shall shoot himon sight and chance the consequences."
"They'll hang you!" she declared savagely.
He laughed at her.
"Hang me for shooting a man whom I can prove to be a German spy? Theywon't dare! They won't even dare to place me under arrest for an hour.Why, when the truth becomes known," he went on, his voice gainingcourage as the justice of his case impressed itself upon him, "what doyou suppose is going to happen to two women who took this fellow in andbefriended him, introduced him under a false name to their friends, gavehim the run of their house--this man whom they knew all the time was aGerman? Y
ou, Lady Cranston, chafing and scolding your husband by nightand by day because he isn't where you think he ought to be; you, sopatriotic that you cannot bear the sight of him out of uniform; you--thehostess, the befriender, the God knows what of Bertram Maderstrom! Itwill be a pretty tale when it's all told!"
"I really think," Philippa asserted calmly, "that you are the mostutterly impossible and obnoxious creature I have ever met."
His face was dangerous for a moment. They had not yet reached thepromontory which sheltered them from Dreymarsh.
"Perhaps," he muttered, leaning malignly towards her, "I could makemyself even more obnoxious."
"Quite possibly," she replied, "only I want to tell you this. If youcome a single inch nearer to me, one of them shall shoot you."
"Your friend or your husband, eh?" he scoffed.
She waved him on.
"I think," she told him, "that either of them would be quite capable ofridding the world of a coward like you."
"A coward?" he repeated.
"Precisely! Isn't it a coward's part to terrorise a woman?"
"I don't want to terrorise you," he said sulkily.
"Well, you must admit that you haven't shown any particular desire tomake yourself agreeable," she pointed out.
He turned suddenly upon her.
"I am a fool, I know," he declared bitterly. "I'm an awkward, nervous,miserable fool, my own worst enemy as they say of me in the Mess,turning the people against me I want to have like me, stumbling intoevery blunder a fool can. I'm the sort of man women make sport of, andyou've done it for them cruelly, perfectly."
"Captain Griffiths!" she protested. "When have I ever been anything butkind and courteous to you?"
"It isn't your kindness I want, nor your courtesy! There's a curse uponmy tongue," he went on desperately. "I'm not like other men. I don'tknow how to say what I feel. I can't put it into words. Every onemisunderstands me. You, too! Here I rode up to you this afternoon andmy heart was beating for joy, and in five minutes I had made an enemy ofyou. Damn that fellow Lessingham! It is all his fault!"
Without the slightest warning he brought down his hunting crop upon hishorse's flanks. The mare gave one great plunge, and he was off, ridingat a furious gallop. Philippa watched him with immense relief. In thefar distance she could see two little specks growing larger and larger.She hurried on towards them.
"Whatever did you do to Captain Griffiths, Mummy?" Nora demanded. "Whyhe passed us without looking down, galloping like a madman, and his facelooked--well, what did it look like, Helen?"
Helen was gazing uneasily along the sands.
"Like a man riding for his enemy," she declared.