Part 4 (2/2)

I did not answer him, and, after talking a lot about my cleverness and the way the car had run, he went in and had his dinner. What to make of him or his proposal I knew no more than the dead. Certainly he had done nothing which gave me any t.i.tle to judge him, and a man with a job to serve isn't over-ready to be nice about his masters, whatever their doings. I came to the conclusion that he was just a dotty old boy who had gone crazy over some girl, and that he was driving out by night to see her. All the talk about Watford and his letters was so much jibarree and not meant for home consumption; but, in any case, it was no affair of mine, nor could I be held responsible for what he did or what he left undone.

This was the wisest view to take, and it helped me out afterwards. He made a good dinner, they told me, and drank a fine bottle of port, kept in the cellars of the house from the old days when gentlemen drove themselves to Newmarket, and didn't spare the liquor by the way. It was half-past ten when I saw him again, and then he had one of the roly-poly cigars in his mouth and the ten-pound note in his hand.

”Britten,” he said quite plain, ”you know why I've come down here?”

”I think so, sir.”

”_Chercher les femmes_, as they say in Boolong--I'm down here to meet the girl I'm going to marry.”

”Hope you'll find her well, sir.”

”Ah, that's just it. I shan't find her well if her old father can help it. d.a.m.n him, he's nearly killed her with his oaths and swearing these last two months. But it's going to stop, Britten, and stop to-night.

She's waiting for this car over at Fawley Hill, which isn't half a mile from this very door.”

He came a step nearer and thrust the ten-pound note under my very nose.

”It's Lord Hailsham's place--straight up the hill to the right and on to the high road from Bishop's Stortford. There's a party for a silver wedding, and Miss Davenport is staying there with her father and mother. Bring her to this house and I'll give you fifty pounds.

There's ten as earnest money. She's over age and can do what she likes--and it's no responsibility of yours, anyway.”

I took the note in my hand and put a question.

”Do I drive to the front door--I'm thinking not?”

”You drive to the edge of the spinney which you'll find directly you turn the corner. Wait there until Miss Davenport comes. Then drive her straight here and your money is earned. I'll answer for the rest and she shall answer for herself.”

I nodded my head, and, folding up the note, I put it in my pocket. The night was clear when I drove away from the inn, but there was some mist in the fields and a goodish bit about the spinney they had pointed out to me. A child could have found the road, however, for it was just the highway to Newmarket; and when I had cruised along it a couple of hundred yards, to the very gates of Lord Hailsham's house, I turned about and stood off at the spinney's edge, perhaps three hundred yards away. Then I just lighted a cigarette and waited, as I had been told to do.

It was a funny job, upon my word. Sometimes I laughed when I thought about it; sometimes I had a bit of a s.h.i.+ver down my back, the sort of thing which comes to a man who's engaged in a rum affair, and may not come well out of it. As for the party Lord Hailsham was giving, there could be no doubt about that. I had seen the whole house lighted up from attic to kitchen, and some of the lights were still glistening between the pollards in the spinny; while the stables themselves seemed alive with coachmen, carriages, and motor-cars. The road itself was the only secluded spot you could have pointed out for the third of a mile about--but that was without a living thing upon it, and nothing but a postman's cart pa.s.sed me for an hour or more.

I should have told you that I had turned the car and that she now stood with her headlights towards home. The mists made the night very cold, and I was glad to wrap myself up in one of the guvnor's rugs and smoke a packet of cigarettes while I waited. From time to time I could hear the music of fiddles, and they came with an odd echo, just as though some merry tune of long ago chided me for being there all alone. When they ceased I must have dropped asleep, for the next thing I knew was that some one was busy about the car and that my head-lamps had both gone out. Be sure I jumped up like a shot at this, and ”Hallo,” cried I, ”what the devil do you think you are doing?” Then I saw my mistake.

The new-comer was a girl, one of the maids of the house, it appeared, and she was stowing luggage into the car.

”Oh,” says I, ”then Miss Davenport is coming, is she?”

The girl went on with her work, hardly looking at me. When she did speak I thought her voice sounded very odd; and instead of answering me she asked a question:

”Do you know the road to Colchester?”

”To Colchester?”

”You take the first to the left when we leave here--then go right ahead until I tell you to stop. Understand, whatever happens you are to get ahead as fast as you can. The rest is with----”

He came to an abrupt halt, and no wonder. If you had given me ten thousand pounds to have kept my tongue still, I would have lost the money that instant. For who do you think the maid was? Why, no other than the starchy valet, Joseph, I had seen at Mr. Colmacher's flat.

”Up you get, my boy,” he cried, throwing all disguise to the winds, ”Don't you hear that noise? They have discovered Miss Davenport is going and the job's off. We'll tell Benny in the morning--the thing to do to-night is to show them our heels and sharp about it.”

He bade me listen, and I heard the ringing of an alarm bell, the barking of hounds, and then the sound of many voices. Some suspicion, ay, more than that, a pretty shrewd guess at the truth was possible then, and I would have laid any man ten pounds to nothing that ”love”

was not much in this business, whatever the real nature of it might be.

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