In White Raiment

by William Le Queux

introduce you, if you have notalready met before."

  "We have not had that pleasure," said the Tempter, turning to me andraising his hat.

  He remained perfectly calm, betraying no sign whatever of recognition.In this I saw an intention on his part to deny all knowledge of ourprevious acquaintance.

  His keen eyes glanced at me quickly, and, as though in that moment hegauged exactly my strength of character, he expressed his pleasure atour meeting, and hoped that we should all spend as pleasant a time as hehad done last year.

  "Here one has not an hour for leisure," he laughed. "Sir Henry and hiswife are really a wonderful pair as host and hostess. You've alreadyfound them so, I've no doubt."

  "Yes," I responded mechanically, his marvellous self-control staggeringme. "The house-party is a very jolly one."

  "I've been abroad," he went on. "But I'm pleased to be at home again.There's nothing like an English country house in summer. It is an idealexistence."

  "How long have you been away?" I inquired, anxious to ascertain histactics.

  "Nearly a year. After leaving here last summer, I spent a week inLondon and then left for Vienna. Afterwards I went south, spendinggreater part of the winter in Cairo, thence to Bombay, and returned forthe late spring in Florence, and afterwards wandered about France, untilthree days ago I found myself again back in England."

  "And you did not return once during the whole year?" I asked, withaffected carelessness.

  His small eyes darted quickly to mine, as though in suspicion.

  "No," he responded promptly. "It is almost a year to-day since I was inEngland."

  Then, noticing Barton waiting with the trap, he ordered him to take theluggage to the house, while all three of us walked up the drivetogether.

  A sudden change had passed over Beryl. She knew this man Ashwicke, herattitude towards him was that of fear. The looks they had exchanged atfirst meeting were sufficient to convince me that there was some hiddensecret between them.

  "Nora cannot be aware of your arrival," Beryl said, as we walkedtogether up the sunny drive to the house. "Otherwise she would eitherhave told me, or she certainly would have remained at home to receiveyou."

  "Why should she?" he laughed lightly. "Surely we are old enough friendsto put aside all ceremony. I'm a rolling stone, as you know, and I hateputting people out."

  "Yes," she said; "you are a rolling stone, and no mistake. I don'tthink any one travels further afield than you do. You seem to be alwaystravelling."

  "I've only spent six months in England these last eight years," heresponded. "To me, England is only bearable in August or September. Alittle shooting, and I'm off again."

  "You only come back because you can't get decent sport on theContinent?" I said, for want of other observation to make.

  "Exactly," he answered. "`_La Chasse_,' as the French call it, is nevera success across the Channel. Some rich Frenchman started a fox-huntdown at Montigny, in the Seine and Marne, not long ago, and part of theparaphernalia was an ambulance wagon flying the red-cross flag. A fact!I went to the first meet myself."

  "The French are no sportsmen," I said.

  "The same everywhere, all over the Continent. Sport is _chic_,therefore the get-up of sportsmen must be outrageous and striking. Noforeigner enjoys it. He shoots or hunts just because it's the correctthing to do. Here in England one kills game for the love of the thing.To the Frenchman in patent leather, sport is only a bore."

  He had all the irresponsible air of the true cosmopolitan, yet hisassertion that he had been absent from England a year was an unmitigatedlie. Knowing this, I was doubtful of all his chatter.

  On entering the hall, Beryl, as mistress of the house in her cousin'sabsence, rang for the servants and told them to take Mr Ashwicke'sbaggage to the same room he had occupied last year, sending Barton roundto the kennels to find Sir Henry and inform him of the arrival of hisguest.

  In the meantime, Ashwicke had tossed his hat aside, and seated himselfcross-legged, in one of the low cane-chairs, making himself thoroughlyat home.

  "Well," he said, stretching himself, "it is really very pleasant, MissWynd, to be here once again. I have so many pleasant recollections oflast year--when I spent three weeks with you. What a merry time wehad!"

  "I hope you'll remain here longer this time," she said in a dry,unnatural voice.

  "You're awfully kind--awfully kind," he answered.

  "I always enjoy myself under Sir Henry's roof, both here and in town."

  The baronet entered, and the greeting between the two men was a cordialone.

  "You'll forgive me, Ashwicke, won't you?" Sir Henry said a momentlater. "I quite forgot to tell my wife, and she's gone off to theflower-show at Dodington; must support the local things, you know."

  "Of course, of course," responded the other. "I quite understand, and Iknow I'm welcome."

  "That you certainly are," Sir Henry said, turning and ordering the manto bring whisky and sodas. "Let's see, the last letter I had from youwas from Alexandria, back in the Spring. Where have you been sincethen?"

  "Oh, knocking about here and there, as usual. I can't stay long in oneplace, you know. It's a bad complaint I have."

  "Well, I'm glad to see you--very glad," the baronet declared heartily."I hope you'll stay some time. Have you brought your gun?"

  "Of course," the other laughed. "I shouldn't think, of coming toAtworth without it."

  While they were chatting thus, I looked at him, recalling every feature.Yes, it was the same face, scarcely perhaps the same sinistercountenance as it had appeared to me on that well-remembered day, butnevertheless the face of the Tempter.

  I lounged back in my chair, close to that of my well-beloved, filledwith wonderment.

  That the newcomer recognised me was certain, for I had been introducedby name. And that he had been unaware of my presence as guest there wasequally certain. Yet he had, on encountering us together, preserved aself-control little short of marvellous.

  I glanced at Beryl. She was sitting listening to the conversation ofthe two men, and regarding Ashwicke covertly from beneath her lashes. Iknew by her manner that, although she had outwardly affected pleasure athis arrival, she, in her heart, regarded him as an enemy. He, on hispart, however, was perfectly confident, and sat sipping his drink andlaughing merrily with his host.

  What, I wondered, was passing within Beryl's mind. She knew this man asAshwicke, while I knew him as her own father, Wyndham Wynd. The latterwere evidently a name and position both assumed, and, after all, as hesat there with the easy refined air of a gentleman, I could scarcelybelieve him to be an adventurer. Surely Sir Henry knew him well, orthey would not be on terms of such intimate friendship.

  But now I had discovered him, I meant, at all hazards, to probe thetruth.

  Beryl, who had spoken but little after Sir Henry's entrance, rose atlast, announcing her intention of going out beneath the trees again.Her words conveyed an invitation to accompany her; therefore I strolledout at her side, anxious to learn from her what I could regarding theman to whom she had introduced me.

  How curiously events occur in our lives. Many of the ordinarycircumstances of everyday existence which we pass by unnoticed seem tobe governed by some laws of which we have absolutely no knowledgewhatever. Reader, in your own life, there has occurred some strangecombinations of circumstances quite unaccountable, yet by them the wholecourse of your existence has been altered. You may have noticed them,or you may not. You may call it Fate, or you may be a follower of thatshadowy religion called Luck, yet it remains the same--the unexpectedalways happens.

  Who indeed would have expected that my wife herself would haveintroduced me to the man who had so cleverly baited the trap into whichI had fallen? And yet it is always so. There is a mysteriousall-ruling spirit of perversity ever at work in that complicated seriesof events which go to make up what we term life.

  "You were telling me that you know my husband," she said quickly
, as wecrossed the grass together. "Our conversation was interrupted by thatman's arrival."

  Such reference to the new-comer showed me that she was not well-disposedtowards him.

  "Do you know," I said, "I believe that we've met somewhere before. Iknow his face."

  "Possibly. But why Sir Henry should have invited him here again, Ican't imagine."

  "Was his company so disagreeable?" I asked.

  "Disagreeable?" she echoed. "He is detestable."

  "Why?"

  "Oh, for many reasons," she responded ambiguously;