experience togethersince then haven't we? But it's an infernally inconsequent world. Forinstance why should I have predicted to Coates that you would be sure toturn up over there again, and he have predicted that it would be bad foryou if you did? And--we were both right."
"Yes, indeed."
There was silence for a few moments. Both lay back in their chairspuffing out contented clouds of smoke, and gazing into the red-hot woodcavern. Without the wind howled.
"Do you know, Varne," resumed Mervyn, meditatively. "It's a deuced oddthing, but that chap I got out of the pond, you know--to this day Ican't make out whether I killed him or whether he killed himself. Hedied from a prick from the Star anyhow, because none of the doctorscould make head or tail of it, and by an inspiration of luck I had beencareful to hide away the thing."
"If you only knew what sleepless nights you've entailed upon Nashby.He's just as suspicious as ever, you know. When I saw him inClancehurst the other day he looked at _me_ suspiciously. Thinks I'vedeserted to the other side."
"Oh damn Nashby. He's a fool," came the gusty reply. "Well Varne, youknow all about the finding of the chap dead, and the inquest, and allthat. Very well. I had a sort of instinct against him from the momentI saw him in the full light. After I had left him to turn in on thatsofa, I took precautions against him--I mean against him getting near meduring the night. Now,"--lowering his voice to what was almost awhisper, and an impressive one, "I am almost certain I went down--in mysleep--and--turned the Star upon him. In my sleep, mind, andunconsciously. For, I give you my word that when the thing dropped offhim in the morning the discovery came upon me as a wild and entiresurprise. But it seemed to bring back a lot, and that with a rush."
The other emitted two deliberate puffs of smoke.
"If it's as you say, Mervyn, you are not responsible, but whether it isor not--or whether the chap was careless over handling the infernalmachine, and so did for himself--and I don't see why you shouldn't giveyourself the benefit of the doubt--the result's the same, and a good onefor you, in that we shouldn't be here talking to-night, if he had livedanother day. Had you any reason, by the way, to expect the attentionsof this amiable confraternity?"
Mervyn knitted his brows and hesitated.
"Well, yes. I had," he said at length. "I had received signs to putmyself under its orders again. I had chucked it--clean, altogether--foryears, in fact I thought that the very act of coming to this out of theway place would--well, blot out the trail. But I took no notice ofthem, and--this was the consequence. There's no mistake about it, mind.I've no idea as to the man's identity, but I recognised him, not atfirst, but the next morning, as one of those light coloured Afghans. Hewas Europeanised and talked English perfectly. Then, of course, I hadthe key to the whole situation."
"Well, as I said, if he had lived, you would not have," said the other.
"I've sometimes thought," rejoined Mervyn, "and that's the only thingthat has bothered me--that is supposing I really did--you know--thatafter saving his life, he might have backed out of his errand."
But Helston Varne shook his head slowly.
"I can't presume to teach _you_ your East, Mervyn. But--I think you aremistaken there."
"Perhaps I am--most likely I am," came the answer. "Anyway, Varne, I'mnot going to stick on here any more, so if they plant another of thoselittle reminders on me they'll have to find out where I've got to."
"They won't," said the other. "And when you're in that jolly littlecottage inside my park that you've promised me to inhabit, for--well, aslong as it suits you--I think it'll be a risky matter for any one tocome fooling round you on that sort of errand."
And then the two men talked on--on this topic and others--far into thenight.
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Since her return to Heath Hover Melian had experienced none of the fearsand misgivings which had hung over her before. The "influence" whatever it was, seemed to have ceased, or was it in abeyance? Anyway, withHelston Varne under the same roof nothing mattered. It seemed as ifnothing could matter.
For here he was, installed at Heath Hover as a guest, he who had firstcome there as a spy, and that in a hostile interest to his now host. Hehad not returned from the East in their company. With marvellous selfdenial--or self control--or both, he had waited a week later, and thenreturned alone. Characteristically he had reckoned that just thatperiod of time without him would deepen Melian's interest in him, wouldcause her to miss him, in short--or not. If so, and he felt justifiedin feeling sanguine--why there were all their lives before them to makeup for it in. If not--well, he refused to contemplate such acontingency.
They had stayed at Mazaran just long enough for a rest after their hard,perilous experiences, but Mervyn had seemed as eager to get away fromthe country as before he had been to return to it. Helston had seenthem off at Karachi, himself taking a passage which brought him homenearly as soon as themselves. And now he had arrived at Heath Hover theevening before, and certainly had found no cause to complain of thenature of his welcome.
The clear, brisk, bracing air lay upon Plane Pond, and upon thereddening woods which flowed down to it, in the early morning, and thevoices of birds lifted in their late autumn song, ere silencing fordrear winter, made music in "Broceliande." The girl, tripping lightlyup the sluice path, felt all the invigorating influence of it go throughher system like a stimulant.
"Good morning, Sirdar."
Helston Varne turned. He had been leaning on the rail gazing out overthe expanse of water, thinking; and what he was thinking about wasembodied in this vision of youth and bright sweetness which now stoodbefore him in the early freshness of morning. Melian had taken tocalling him "Sirdar" since she had seen him in his wonderful Easternmake-up. But neither of the two men had ever told her the extent of theghastly peril which the wonderful success of that make-up had beeninstrumental in delivering them from.
She put out both hands and he took them--both. He held them for quite amoment, gazing into the sweet blue eyes.
"Come," he said, still holding them. "We'll stroll a little through`Broceliande,' the enchanted forest."
She looked at him, and said nothing; and they went, and as they went hedrew one of the long white hands over his arm and covered it with one ofhis brown ones. And what they said in "Broceliande," the enchantedforest, under the old gnarled oaks--why, reader, that is no earthlyconcern of yours or mine. What may be, however, is that they emergedeventually therefrom perfectly happy, and at peace with all the world.
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The End.
The Heath Hover Mystery Page 44
