for the first time. But that was allhe said. No words of thanks, of explanation. Mervyn passed a tolerablystrong arm through that of his guest, and piloted him along the pathbeneath the trees, athwart whose frosted boughs the moon was networkingin fitful strands of light. The ladder he did not trouble his headfurther about. It would be there in the morning. Two owls, floatingover the tree-tops, hooted sepulchrally but melodiously to each other.
"That's how I heard them when I was in there. They sounded like thevoices of devils."
Mervyn looked at the speaker curiously. They had nearly gained the gatewhich opened out of the sombre woods on to the sluice. The voice wasrather deep, not unpleasing, but strained. Lord! what if a touch ofbrain fever followed on the strain of the long immersion? What on earthwas he going to do with a raving delirious man, in his lonely, hauntedabode? thought Mervyn.
"Oh, that's how they struck you!" he answered, bluffly. "No `devil'about them. They're jolly beggars and I like to hear them. I dare say,though, when you're hanging on for dear life in a freezing ice hole atmidnight anything strikes you as all distorted--eh? Well, here we are--that's my crib. Hold up, go easy down this path. It's really a flightof steps, you know. By the way, as you see, I'm yards below the levelof the pond. If that sluice were to give way it'd sweep me and my shackto Kingdom Come before you could say knife. I shouldn't like to say howmany million gallons of water there are in that pond. It's about half amile long, and fills what is really the bottom of a valley, so you canimagine it's astonishingly deep."
Thus chatting, he had piloted the man he had rescued safely down thestaircase-like path and had gained the front door, which had been lefthalf open in his hurried exit. The lamp in the inner room was stillburning, and into this he led the stranger.
"Now, peel off all your wet clothes," he went on. "This is the onlydecent fire in the house--the one in my bedroom has burnt low. But--lose no time about it. I'll get you a couple of rough towels for aglowing rub down--then you'll be none the worse."
Mervyn stirred up the fire and piled on it several great billets. In amoment they were roaring up the chimney. But as he did so his glancequickly sought the mysterious door in the shadowy corner. It was tightshut--moreover the long loop handle was in its normal position--at thehorizontal.
"I must have been dreaming," he said to himself, as he went upstairs torummage out the towels aforesaid, and anything else that his new-foundguest would be likely to need. "And yet--if that devilish rum opticaldelusion hadn't come off--why I should have dozed on comfortably, andnever have heard that chump's shout for help. Well I've read of thatsort of thing, but here's a first-class case in point."
But at this decision his meditations stopped short, and thatuncomfortably. For the dread legends that hung around his lonely abodeinvariably had it that any manifestations within the same boded ill--were productive of ill--to the witness or witnesses thereof; certainlynot good, to any living soul. Yet this manifestation--if manifestationit were--had been directly instrumental in the saving of a human life.And with this came another uncomfortable reflection--to wit, the proverbthat if you save anybody's life, he--or she--is bound to do you aninjury.
"All bosh," he decided, next minute, as he proceeded to get out a suitof clothes, in fact a complete outfit, for his guest. Both were tallmen, and much of the same build. The things would fit admirably. Butthis sudden acquisition of human companionship had made all thedifference in Mervyn. An imaginative man when alone, he was ashard-headed and matter of fact as could be in the society of hisfellows. He did not disguise from himself that the society of this one,whoever he might be, had come right opportunely just now.
"Here you are," he cried, flinging the bundle of things down on thetable. "Get into these while I go and rummage out some supper. You cando with some I expect after your `dip.' But I warn you it's all cold,and there's no kitchen fire. There isn't a soul on the premises butmyself."
The stranger protested that he really required nothing. His voice wasrather a pleasing one, with ever so slight a foreign intonation andaccent. He had a well-shaped head, straight features, and a short darkbeard trimmed to a point. On the whole, rather a striking looking man.
While he was changing Mervyn made several expeditions to the backpremises, and by the time these were completed the table looked alluringby reason of the adornment of a cold silverside, half a Stilton cheese--and the usual appurtenances thereto.
"Rough and ready," declared Mervyn, "but all good of its kind. Ithought we could dispense with laying a cloth."
The other bowed a smiling assent. If his dark eyes flashed round theroom in a quick appraising glance when his host was not, looking heevinced no appreciable curiosity otherwise, either by look or speech.The latter, for his part, was equally contained. He detested beingcross-questioned himself, consequently forebore, as second nature, tosubject other people to that process. If his guest chose to volunteerinformation about himself he would do so, if not--well, he needn't.
A renewed whirl of dismal wind round the gables of the house, and a fineclatter of sleet against the windowpanes as they began their meal. Thestranger looked up.
"I am fortunate indeed," he said, "to have fallen upon such hospitalityas yours to-night, Mr--?"
"Mervyn," supplied his host. But hardly had he uttered his own name,than a very strange and unaccountable misgiving struck root within hismind. Was it some long-forgotten brain wave that suggested to him thathe had seen this man somewhere or other before--and that undercircumstances which would in no way render it desirable that he shouldsee him again? Yet, like a long-forgotten dream which locates us insimilar place or circumstances, it was an impression to vanish ascompletely and as bafflingly as recalled.
"Hark! That is not the wind," went on the stranger, looking up.
"No, it isn't," said Mervyn, on whose ears the sound of a scratching onthe windowpane and a plaintive little cry at the same time struck.
He raised the sash, admitting a whirl of icy sleet, also the littleblack kitten, its fur plentifully powdered with the white particles. Ithad slipped out of the door when he had started upon his rescue quest,and he had been too much occupied with this and the sequel to give itanother thought just then.
"Why, Poogie, you little fool, what did you want to leave a snug firefor at all on a night like this?" he apostrophised as the tiny creaturesprang lightly to his shoulder, and sat there purring and rubbing itshead against his cheek. He sat down with it at the table, and beganfeeding it with scraps from his plate. The stranger looked on with aslightly amused smile.
"I see you are a lover of cats, Mr Mervyn," he remarked.
"Why, rather. They're such jolly, chummy little beasts. Look at thisone," holding it up. "Isn't it a picture, with its little tufted earsand round, woolly face?"
But somehow the object of this eulogy did not seem appreciative. Itstruggled, and half struck its claws into its owner's hand, which heldit up under the armpits. But its said owner realised that itsresentment was not directed upon him. It was viewing the stranger withmuch the same manifestations of disapproval and distrust as when gazingat the weirdly opening door, earlier in the night. And to its owner wasborne in the consciousness that it had never displayed hostility towardsanybody before--stranger or not. This, however, he kept to himself. Hereplaced the kitten on his lap, but even then it seemed restive anduneasy.
"Are you fond of dogs too?" said the other. "I suppose you are, but Ididn't see or hear one when we came in."
"Yes. But I haven't got one just now. The fact is this is a difficultplace to keep a dog in. They get roaming off into the coverts and gettrapped or shot. The last one I had disappeared--suddenly."
There was a curious hesitation about this explanation. Perhaps thestranger noticed it--perhaps not.
"Now we'll have a smoke," said Mervyn, when they had finished, producinga cigar box. "These are pretty well matured--Unless you'd prefer toturn in?"
But the other declared he
preferred nothing of the kind. The comfort ofthis delightful room after the experience he had gone through wasidyllic. So Mervyn, by no means averse to this opportunity ofconviviality so unexpectedly thrown in his way, fell in, and for upwardsof an hour they sat on, before the blazing roaring log-fire, chattingeasily, but always on indifferent subjects. And all the time thestranger, while an ideal conversationalist, had vouchsafed noinformation about himself--not even as to his name.
But when bedtime came he flatly and absolutely refused to avail himselfof his host's bedroom. He could not think of entailing thatinconvenience, he declared. Here was a roomy and comfortable couch, anda blazing fire. A couple of pillows and
The Heath Hover Mystery Page 3
