have gone out like this alone with me, a comparativestranger, yet girls of to-day think little of such things, and she wasnothing if not modern in dress, speech and frankness of manner.
We were far from the haunts of men in that calm hour of the dying day.Indeed, already the crimson of the sun was fading into the rose of theafterglow, and the stillness precursory of nightfall was complete savefor the rustle of some water-rat or otter among the sedge, or the swiftflight of a night-bird across the bosom of the stream. The shadows werechanging and the glow on the water was turning from one colour toanother. The cattle had come down to the brink, and wading to theirknees, whisked the flies away with their tails as they slowly chewed thecud.
"Yes," I agreed. "There is rest, perfect and complete, here. Howdifferent to London!"
"Ah, yes," she answered. "I hate London, and very seldom go there,except when necessity compels us to do shopping."
"Why do you hate it?" I asked, at once pricking up my ears. "Have youany especial reason for disliking it?"
"Well, no," she laughed. "I suppose it's the noise and bustle and hurrythat I don't like. I'm essentially a lover of the country. Eventheatres, concerts and such-like amusements have but little attractionfor me. I know it sounds rather absurd that a girl should make such adeclaration, but I assure you I speak the truth."
I did not doubt her. Any one with an open face like hers could not beguilty of lying. That statement was, in itself, an index to hercharacter. She possessed a higher mind than most women, and wassomething of a philosopher. Truth to tell, this fact surprised me, forI had until then regarded her as of the usual type of the educated womanof to-day, a woman with a penchant for smartness in dress, freedom oflanguage, and the entertainment of the modern music-hall in preferenceto opera.
I was gratified by my discovery. She was a woman with a soul beyondthese things, with a sweet, lovable disposition--a woman far above allothers. She was my idol. In those moments my love increased to a madpassion, and I longed to imprint a kiss upon those smiling lips, and totake her in my arms to tell her the secret that I dared not allow topass my lips.
She leaned backwards on the cushions; her hands were tightly claspedbehind her head; her sleeves fell back, showing her well-moulded arms;her sweet, childlike face was turned upward, with her blue eyes watchingme through half-closed lids; her small mouth was but half shut; shesmiled a little.
It entranced me to look upon her. For the first time the loveliness ofa woman had made me blind and stupid.
I wanted to know more of the cause of her dislike of London, for I hadscented suspicion in her words. Nevertheless, through all, shepreserved a slight rigidity of manner, and I feared to put any furtherquestion at that moment.
Thus we rested in silence, dreaming in the darkening hour.
I sat facing her, glancing furtively at her countenance and wonderinghow she had become a victim in that inexplicable tragedy. By what meanshad she been spirited from that mysterious house and another victimplaced there in her stead? All was an enigma, insoluble, inscrutable.
To be there with her, to exchange confidences as we had done, and tochat lightly upon river topics all gave me the greatest gratification.To have met her thus was an unexpected stroke of good fortune, and I wasoverjoyed by her spontaneous promise to invite me to one of their ownriver-parties.
Joy is the sunshine of the soul. At that restful hour I drank in thesweetness of her eyes, for I was in glamour-land, and my companion wastruly enchanting.
We must have remained there fully half an hour, for when I suddenlylooked at my watch and realised that we must in any case be late fordinner, the light in the wild red heavens had died away, the soft palerose-pink had faded, and in the stillness of twilight there seemed awide, profound mystery.
"We must be getting back," I said quickly, pulling the boat out intomid-stream with a long stroke.
"Yes. The Blains will wonder wherever we've been," she laughed. "Marywill accuse you of flirting with me."
"Would that be such a very grave accusation?" I asked, smiling.
"Ah, that I really don't know," she answered gaily. "You would be theaccused."
"But neither of us are guilty, therefore we can return with absolutelyclear consciences, can't we?"
"Certainly," she laughed. Then, after a brief pause, she asked, "Whydid you not bring Mary out in preference to me?"
"Why do you ask?" I inquired in surprise.
"Well--it would be only natural, as you are engaged to her."
"Engaged to her?" I echoed. "I'm certainly not engaged to Mary Blain."
"Aren't you?" she exclaimed. "I always understood you were."
"Oh, no," I said. "We are old friends. We were boy and girl together,but that is all."
Her great blue eyes opened with a rather bewildered air, and sheexclaimed--
"How strange that people should make such a mistake! I had long agoheard of you as Mary's future husband."
Then again we were silent, both pondering deeply. Had this remark ofhers been mere guess-work? Was this carefully-concealed question but amasterstroke of woman's ingenuity to ascertain whether I loved MaryBlain? It seemed very likely to be so. But she was so frank in allthat I could not believe it of her. No doubt she had heard some storyof our long-past love, and it had been exaggerated into an engagement,as such stories are so often apt to be.
Soon we emerged from the backwater into the main stream, and with ourbow set in the direction of Laleham I rowed down with the currentwithout loss of time. The twilight had fast deepened into dusk; thehigh poplars and drooping willows along the bank had grown dark, thoughthe broad surface of the stream, eddying here and there where a fishrose, was still of a blue steely hue, and far away upstream only a longstreak of grey showed upon the horizon. The stars shone down in thefirst faint darkness of the early night. Presently I glanced behind me,and in the distance saw a yellow ray, which my companion, well versed inriver geography, told me was a light in one of the windows of Riverdene.
It had grown quite chilly, and the meadows were wreathed in faint whitemist, therefore I spurted forward, and soon brought the boat up to thesteps.
I knew that the world now held nothing for me but Eva.
When we entered the dining-room, a fine apartment with the table laidwith shining plate, decorated with flowers, and illuminated withred-shaded candles, we were greeted, as we expected, by a loud andrather boisterous welcome by Dick and Mary. We were, of course, full ofapologies, being nearly half an hour late. But up-river dinner is asomewhat movable feast, so Mrs. Blain quickly forgave us, and while Isat by Mary on her one hand, Dick seated himself at Eva's side.
Gaily we gossiped through a merry meal, washed down with a realBerncastel, and followed by old port, coffee, and curacoa. Yet my mindwas full of strange apprehensions. What possible connexion could thesethree women have with that crime which the police were withholding fromthe public? That they were all three aware that a tragedy had takenplace seemed quite clear. Yet all remained silent.
I had detected in Mrs. Blain's manner an anxiety and nervousness which Ihad never before noticed, yet I refrained from putting any furtherquestion to her, lest I might, by doing so, show my hand. She could notkeep from her tone when she spoke to me a note of insincerity, which myear did not fail to detect.
Our conversation over dessert turned upon dogs, the performances ofMary's pug having started the discussion, and quite inadvertently Dick,whose mind seemed always centred upon his work, for he was nothing ifnot an enthusiast, suddenly said--
"Dogs are now being used by the police to trace criminals. There is nobetter method when it can be accomplished, for a bloodhound will followa trail anywhere with unfailing accuracy, even after some hours."
"Do they actually use them now?" asked Mrs. Blain in a strained,faltering voice, her wine-glass poised in her hand.
"Yes," he responded. "They've been utilised with entire success in twoor three cases this week, not only in London, bu
t in the provinces also.They are unfailing, and will track the guilty one with an accuracythat's absolutely astounding."
Eva and Mary exchanged quick glances across the table, while Mrs. Blainsipped her wine and stirred uneasily in her chair.
I noticed that the colour had died out from the faces of all three, andthat in their blanched countenances was a look of mingled fear andsuspicion.
My friend had led that conversation with remarkable tact to quite anunlooked-for result.
He lifted his eyes to mine for an instant and read my thoughts. My mindbecame filled with a presentiment of future ill.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE DEFORMED MAN'S STATEMENT.
Youth is as short as joy, and happiness vanishes like all else. In themad hurry of life, however, we heed not such
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