The Hillman

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  Produced by Siobhan Hillman, D Alexander, Ernest Schaal,and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from imagesgenerously made available by The Internet Archive)

  THE HILLMAN

  What followed came like a thunder-clap. FRONTISPIECE. _See page 304._]

  The Hillman

  By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

  Author of "The Kingdom of The Blind" "Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo," Etc.

 

  WITH FRONTISPIECE By GEORGE AVISON

  A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York Published by Arrangement with LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY

  _Copyright, 1917_, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

  _All rights reserved_

  Published, January, 1917 Reprinted, January, 1917 (twice) February, 1917 (twice) March, 1917; April, 1917

  THE HILLMAN

  I

  Louise, self-engrossed, and with a pleasant sense of detachment from theprospective inconveniences of the moment, was leaning back among thecushions of the motionless car. Her eyes, lifted upward, traveled pastthe dimly lit hillside, with its patchwork of wall-enclosed fields, upto where the leaning clouds and the unseen heights met in a misty sea ofobscurity.

  The moon had not yet risen, but a faint and luminous glow, spreadinglike a halo about the topmost peak of that ragged line of hills,heralded its approach. Louise sat with clasped hands, rapt and engrossedin the esthetic appreciation of a beauty which found its way but seldominto her town-enslaved life. She listened to the sound of a distantsheepbell. Her eyes swept the hillsides, vainly yet without curiosity,for any sign of a human dwelling. The voices of her chauffeur and hermaid, who stood talking heatedly together by the bonnet of the car,seemed to belong to another world. She had the air of one completely yetpleasantly detached from all material surroundings.

  The maid, leaving her discomfited companion with a final burst ofreproaches, came to the side of the car. Her voice, when she addressedher mistress, sank to a lower key, but her eyes still flashed withanger.

  "But would _madame_ believe it?" she exclaimed. "It is incredible! Theman Charles there, who calls himself a chauffeur of experience, declaresthat we are what he calls 'hung up'! Something unexpected has happenedto the magneto. There is no spark. Whose fault can that be, I ask, butthe chauffeur's? And such a desert we have reached! We have searched themap together. We are thirty miles from any town, many miles from even avillage. What a misfortune!"

  Louise turned her head regretfully away from the mysterious spaces. Shelistened patiently, but without any sort of emotion, to her maid's flowof distressed words. She even smiled very faintly when the girl hadfinished.

  "Something will happen," she remarked indifferently. "There is no needfor you to distress yourself. There must be a farmhouse or shelter ofsome sort near. If the worst comes to the worst, we can spend the nightin the car. We have plenty of furs and rugs. You are not a goodtraveler, Aline. You lose heart too soon."

  The girl's face was a study.

  "_Madame_ speaks of spending the night in the car!" she exclaimed. "Why,one has not eaten since luncheon, and of all the country through whichwe have passed, this is the loneliest and dreariest spot."

  Louise leaned forward and called to the chauffeur.

  "Charles," she asked, "what has happened? Are we really stranded here?"

  The man's head emerged from the bonnet. He came round to the side of thecar.

  "I am very sorry, madam," he reported, "but something has gone wrongwith the magneto. I shall have to take it to pieces before I can tellexactly what is wrong. At present I can't get a spark of any sort."

  "There is no hope of any immediate repair, then?"

  The chauffeur shook his head dolefully.

  "I shall have to take the magneto down, madam," he said. "It will takeseveral hours, and it ought to be done by daylight."

  "And in the meantime, what do you suggest that we do?" she asked.

  The man looked a little helpless. His battle of words with Aline haddepressed him.

  "I heard a dog bark a little while ago," he remarked. "Perhaps I hadbetter go and see whether there isn't a farm somewhere near."

  "And leave us here alone?" Aline exclaimed indignantly. "It is a goodsuggestion. It comes well from the man who has got us into suchtrouble!"

  Her mistress smiled at her reassuringly.

  "What have we to fear, you foolish girl? For myself, I would like betterthan anything to remain here until the moon comes over the top of thatround hill. But listen! It is just as I told you. There is no necessityfor Charles to leave us."

  They all turned their heads. From some distance behind on the hard,narrow road, curling like a piece of white tape around the hillside,there came, faintly at first, but more distinctly every moment, thesound of horse's hoofs.

  "It is as I told you," Louise said composedly. "Some one approaches--onhorseback, too. He will be able to fetch assistance."

  The chauffeur walked back a few yards, prepared to give early warning tothe approaching horseman. The two women, standing up in the car, watchedthe spot where the road, hidden for some time in the valley, came intosight.

  Louder and louder came the sound of the beating of hoofs. Louise gave alittle cry as a man on horseback appeared in sight at the crest of thehill. The narrow strip of road seemed suddenly dwarfed, an unreasonableportion of the horizon blotted out. In the half light there wassomething almost awesome in the unusual size of the horse and of the manwho rode it.

  "It is a world of goblins, this, Aline!" her mistress exclaimed softly."What is it that comes?"

  "It is a human being, _Dieu merci_!" the maid replied, with amatter-of-fact little sigh of content.

  Conscious of the obstruction in the road, the rider slackened his speed.His horse, a great, dark-colored animal, pricked up his ears whenscarcely a dozen yards away from the car, stopped short, and suddenlybolted out on the open moor. There was the sound of a heavy whip, aloud, masterful voice, and a very brief struggle, during which the horseonce plunged and reared so high that Louise, watching, cried out infear. A few moments later, however, horse and rider, the formerquivering and subdued, were beside the car.

  "Has anything happened?" the newcomer asked, raising his whip to hishat.

  He addressed Louise, instinctively conscious, even in that dim light,that she was the person in authority.

  She did not at once reply. Her eyes were fixed upon the face of herquestioner. There was little enough of him to be seen, yet she was awareof an exceptional interest in his dimly revealed personality. He wasyoung, unusually tall, and his voice was cultivated. Beyond that, shecould see or divine nothing.

  He, for his part, with his attention still largely engaged in keepinghis horse under control, yet knew, in those first few moments, that hewas looking into the face of a woman who had no kinship with the worldin which he had been born and had lived his days. Those were fugitivethoughts which passed between them, only half conceived, yet strongenough to remain as first and unforgettable impressions. Then thecommonplace interests of the situation became insistent.

  "I have broken down," Louise said. "My chauffeur tells me that it willtake hours to effect some necessary repair to the car. Andmeanwhile--here we are!"

  "You couldn't have chosen a worse place for a breakd
own," the young manobserved. "You are miles away from anywhere."

  "You are indeed a comforter!" Louise murmured. "Do you think that youcould possibly get down and advise us what to do? You look so far awayup there."

  There was another brief struggle between the man and his stillfrightened horse. Then the former swung himself down, and, with thebridle through his arm, came and stood by the car.

  "If there is any way in which I can help," he ventured, "I am quite atyour service."

  Louise smiled at him. She remained unoppressed by any fear ofinconvenience or hardship. She had the air of one rather enjoying herplight.

  "Well, you have begun very nicely by doing what I asked you," she said."Really, you know, to an impressionable person there was somethingrather terrifying about you when you appeared suddenly from out of theshadows in such a lonely place. I was beginning to wonder whether youwere altogether real, whether one of those black hills there had notopened to let you out. You see, I know something of the legends of yourcountry, although I have never been here before."

  The young man was less at his ease. He stood tapping his boot nervouslywith his long riding-whip.

  "I am sorry if I frightened you," he said. "My horse is a littlerestive, and the acetylene light which your chauffeur turned on him wassufficiently alarming."

  "You did not exactly frighten me," she assured him, "but you looked soabnormally large. Please tell us what you would advise us to do. Isthere a village near, or an inn, or even a barn? Or shall we have tospend the night in the car?"

  "The nearest village," he replied, "is twelve miles away. Fortunately,my own home is close by. I shall be very pleased--I and my brother--ifyou will honor us. I am afraid I cannot offer you very much in the wayof entertainment--"

  She rose briskly to her feet and beamed upon him.

  "You are indeed a good Samaritan!" she exclaimed. "A roof is more thanwe had dared to hope for, although when one looks up at this wonderfulsky and breathes this air, one wonders, perhaps, whether a roof, afterall, is such a blessing."

  "It gets very cold toward morning," the young man said practically.

  "Of course," she assented. "Aline, you will bring my dressing-bag andfollow us. This gentleman is kind enough to offer us shelter for thenight. Dear me, you really are almost as tall as you appeared!" sheadded, as she stood by his side. "For the first time in my life you makeme feel undersized."

  He looked down at her, a little more at his ease now by reason of thefriendliness of her manner, although he had still the air of oneembarked upon an adventure, the outcome of which was to be regarded withsome qualms. She was of little more than medium height, and his firstimpressions of her were that she was thin, and too pale to begood-looking; that her eyes were large and soft, with eyebrows moreclearly defined than is usual among Englishwomen; and that she movedwithout seeming to walk.

  "I suppose I am tall," he admitted, as they started off along the road."One doesn't notice it around here. My name is John Strangewey, and ourhouse is just behind that clump of trees there, on the top of the hill.We will do our best to make you comfortable," he added a littledoubtfully; "but there are only my brother and myself, and we have nowomen servants in the house."

  "A roof of any sort will be a luxury," she assured him. "I only hopethat we shall not be a trouble to you in any way."

  "And your name, please?" he asked.

  She was a little amazed at his directness, but she answered him withouthesitation.

  "My name," she told him, "is Louise."

  He leaned down toward her, a little puzzled.

  "Louise? But your surname?"

  She laughed softly. It occurred to him that nothing like her laugh hadever been heard on that gray-walled stretch of mountain road.

  "Never mind! I am traveling incognito. Who I am, or where I amgoing--well, what does that matter to anybody? Perhaps I do not knowmyself. You can imagine, if you like, that we came from the heart ofyour hills, and that to-morrow they will open again and welcome usback."

  "I don't think there are any motor-cars in fairyland," he objected.

  "We represent a new edition of fairy lore," she told him. "Modernromance, you know, includes motor-cars and even French maids."

  "All the same," he protested, with masculine bluntness, "I really don'tsee how I can introduce you to my brother as 'Louise from fairyland.'"

  She evaded the point.

  "Tell me about your brother. Is he as tall as you, and is he younger orolder?"

  "He is nearly twenty years older," her companion replied. "He is aboutmy height, but he stoops more than I do, and his hair is gray. I amafraid that you may find him a little peculiar."

  Her escort paused and swung open a white gate on their left-hand side.Before them was an ascent which seemed to her, in the dim light, to beabsolutely precipitous.

  "Do we have to climb up that?" she asked ruefully.

  "It isn't so bad as it looks," he assured her, "and I am afraid it's theonly way up. The house is at the bend there, barely fifty yards away.You can see a light through the trees."

  "You must help me, then, please," she begged.

  He stooped down toward her. She linked her fingers together through hisleft arm, and, leaning a little heavily upon him, began the ascent. Hewas conscious of some subtle fragrance from her clothes, a perfumestrangely different from the odor of the ghostlike flowers that borderedthe steep path up which they were climbing. Her arms, slight, warmthings though they were, and great though his own strength, feltsuddenly like a yoke. At every step he seemed to feel their weight moreinsistent--a weight not physical, solely due to this rush of unexpectedemotions.

  It was he now whose thoughts rushed away to that medley of hill legendsof which she had spoken. Was she indeed a creature of flesh and blood,of the same world as the dull people among whom he lived? Then heremembered the motor-car, the chauffeur, and the French maid, and hegave a little sigh of relief.

  "Are we nearly there?" she asked. "Do tell me if I lean too heavily uponyou."

  "It is only a few steps further," he replied encouragingly. "Please leanupon me as heavily as you like."

  She looked around her almost in wonder as her companion paused with hishand upon a little iron gate. From behind that jagged stretch of hillsin the distance a corner of the moon had now appeared. By its light,looking backward, she could see the road which they had left below, themoorland stretching away into misty space, an uneasy panorama with itsmasses of gray boulders, its clumps of gorse, its hillocks and hollows.

  Before her, through the little iron gate which her escort had pushedopen, was a garden, a little austere looking with its prim flower-beds,filled with hyacinths and crocuses, bordering the flinty walks. Thetrees were all bent in the same direction, fashioned after one patternby the winds. Before them was the house--a long, low building, part ofit covered with some kind of creeper.

  As they stepped across the last few yards of lawn, the black, oak doorwhich they were approaching suddenly opened. A tall, elderly man stoodlooking inquiringly out. He shaded his eyes with his hands.

  "Is that you, brother?" he asked doubtfully.

  John Strangewey ushered his companion into the square, oak-paneled hall,hung with many trophies of the chase, a few oil-paintings, here andthere some sporting prints. It was lighted only with a single lampwhich stood upon a round, polished table in the center of thewhite-flagged floor.

  "This lady's motor-car has broken down, Stephen," John explained,turning a little nervously toward his brother. "I found them in theroad, just at the bottom of the hill. She and her servants will spendthe night here. I have explained that there is no village or inn for agood many miles."

  Louise turned graciously toward the elder man, who was standing grimlyapart. Even in those few seconds, her quick sensibilities warned her ofthe hostility which lurked behind his tightly closed lips and steel-grayeyes. His bow was stiff and uncordial, and he made no movement to offerhis hand.

  "We are not used to welcoming lad
ies at Peak Hall, madam," he said. "Iam afraid that you will find us somewhat unprepared for guests."

  "I ask for nothing more than a roof," Louise assured him.

  John threw his hat and whip upon the round table and stood in the centerof the stone floor. She caught a glance which flashed between the twomen--of appeal from the one, of icy resentment from the other.

  "We can at least add to the roof a bed and some supper--and a welcome,"John declared. "Is that not so, Stephen?"

  The older man turned deliberately away. It was as if he had not heardhis brother's words.

  "I will go and find Jennings," he said. "He must be told about theservants."

  Louise watched the disappearing figure until it was out of sight. Thenshe looked up into the face of the younger man, who was standing by herside.

  "I am sorry," she murmured apologetically. "I am afraid that yourbrother is not pleased at this sudden intrusion. Really, we shall giveyou very little trouble."

  He answered her with a sudden eager enthusiasm. He seemed far morenatural then than at any time since he had ridden up from out of theshadows to take his place in her life.

  "I won't apologize for Stephen," he said. "He is a little crotchety. Youmust please be kind and not notice. You must let me, if I can, offer youwelcome enough for us both."