The Secret of the Silver Car

by Wyndham Martyn

  CHAPTER FIVE

  _THE MAN WHO DENIED_

  Thinking things over that night as he walked along the Camel banks anddisturbed the otters at play, Anthony Trent determined to call uponArthur Grenvil and force him to acknowledge that he had not forgottenthe conversation, the confidence that was so fully given, in thedug-out.

  Footmen and a butler barred his ingress. They were polite and filledwith regrets but the facts remained that Mr. Arthur Grenvil by doctor'sorders saw none. The Lady Daphne was engaged. The men-servants couldoffer him no hope. He was able to see at close range some advantages ofthe many servants the rich were able to employ to hedge them about withprivacy. The Rosecarrel butler was less urbane than his brother atAlderwood and the opportunity for private conversation was lacking.Trent saw in this rebuff another move in the subtle game Private ArthurSmith was playing.

  The next two days were spent in riding over the moors but not a glimpseof Lady Daphne or her brother did he get. He was certain they wereavoiding him deliberately. The idea possessed Trent that Arthur Grenvilwas not satisfied to obtain merely the rewards that were offered for hisapprehension. If he followed the great thefts of the world he wouldknow that four of its most famous stones were still missing. And fromTrent's confession he would guess the master criminal still held them.They were even now in Trent's Maine camp ornamenting a brass Benareslamp as though they were merely the original pieces of glass that hadoccupied the spaces when Trent purchased it. Trent could sell throughdiscreet sources the loot that was hidden in Kennebago for not less thanhalf a million dollars. If Arthur Grenvil chose to command him to do soand share the proceeds what could he do? The hold he had on the otherman was slight. Langley might have extorted the confession more as awarning than an instrument to use against a relative. In the two othercases to which Arthur Grenvil had confessed his creditors were those whohad been his friends. He had embezzled the mess funds of his regiment.It was unlikely that a cavalry regiment which had fought from Dettingento Mons would like a story of that sort to get abroad.

  On the morning of the third day after his rebuff at the hands of thefootmen Trent made up his mind. He would see Arthur Grenvil and see himat once. "If he thinks he can keep me out," said Trent his mouthtightening to a narrow line, "he holds me too cheap."

  * * * * *

  It happened that Arthur Grenvil knew nothing of the attempt of AnthonyTrent to see him. The doctors had indeed ordered him rest. Lady Daphnewhen she heard of Trent's insistence said nothing but wondered why itwas that he should make the attempt. She still thought uneasily of thatnight at Dereham when he had discovered her with the combination to herhost's safe. There was such a thing as blackmail and, after all what didshe know of the American except that he had been a guest of theLangleys. In itself this should have been enough to vouch for hisposition in life.

  She found herself more interested in Anthony Trent than in any man shehad ever met. And it was because of this concern that in a letter toAlicia Langley she asked about him.

  Alicia's letter was astonishing. "I can't imagine, my dear Daphne towhom you refer. There was no Anthony Trent here on the first. The onlyAmerican was Mr. Conington Warren who was wafted to our shorespermanently on the waves of prohibition. I think you knew personallyevery other man except the Duke of Valladolida. He is, of course, agrandee of Spain, short, slight and bald, but a first rate shot,Reginald says, and plays polo for the Madrid team. Certainly there wasno tall, clean-shaven, good-looking man here whom you don't know quitewell." Alicia Langley invariably added postscripts. This time itinterested the reader more than the letter. "I showed your letter toReginald and he was almost excited. He said an Anthony Trent had motoredover from Norwich and wanted to learn particulars of a private in hisregiment. As the private in question was Arthur you may draw your owninferences if you can. Reginald refused to speak so this Trent man ofyours doesn't know Arthur's _nom de guerre_ from anything he has learnedhere. Reginald wants you to tell him where you met the man. Please do ashe seems to think it very serious."

  While Lady Daphne read this communication, not without agitation, herbrother was dressing for dinner. Some people were coming over fromPencarrow. He occupied two splendid rooms facing west and was lookingover the moorland to the sea when the handle of the room leading to alarge upper hall was opened noiselessly and admitted Anthony Trent. WhenGrenvil remembered he had not long to make the change from flannels intoevening dress, he turned about to see the American sitting in acomfortable chair.

  "Please don't try and ring for the servants," Trent advised smoothly,"because I am nearest to the bell and I shall not permit it."

  If he expected an outbreak of anger he was disappointed. Instead therewas that puzzled expression which could only arise from innocence ofTrent's identity or the most finished art.

  "Don't think I am a housebreaker," Trent went on equably, "I am not.This is visitors day if you remember and after paying my shilling Ilooked at the state rooms, pictures and autograph letters and fellasleep. When I woke up I entered this room by mistake."

  "And you want to find your way out?" Grenvil returned. "If you willring the bell I will have you shown."

  "Not until I have had the opportunity of talking a little to you. In ourfirst conversation I was indiscreet. You will admit that, won't you?"

  "Were you?" Grenvil answered vaguely. "I really don't remember Mr.Trent."

  "Then you deny ever having seen me until we met by the salmon pool a fewdays ago?" Trent looked at him like a hawk.

  "I do," Grenvil retorted.

  "Then if you do, why don't you resent my butting in like this? Why don'tyou call some men-servants and have me flung out for a damned nuisance?Say I threatened you, say anything an innocent man could and would say.Your attitude doesn't fool me in the least. You are playing a deep gamebut I can play a deeper."

  Grenvil shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of weariness. "There aremany things I cannot explain," he said.

  "You are going to begin right now," Trent said. He was not in a mood tobe trifled with. He firmly believed that this man was planning to sendhim to gaol for a period of years so long that he would come out awhitehaired broken man.

  He looked round frowning as steps sounded along the corridor and a tapcame on the door.

  "Let me in Arthur," he heard Lady Daphne say, "I've had a mostextraordinary letter from Aunt Alicia. I must see you about it."

  She rattled the locked door impatiently. Her brother walked over to it.Trent could offer no objection. He was confused and annoyed that at amoment such as this the girl must interrupt. To Anthony Trent she was asone above and apart. There was no use in concealing that he himself wasa crook no matter how differently he pursued the profession from thelesser lights whom he despised. And Arthur Grenvil was as crooked as hewith less excuse for it.

  Lady Daphne stopped short when she saw Trent rise from his chair andbow. Her greeting was so wholly different from the friendly manner shehad shown ere this, that he was at loss to understand it. He did notknow that Mrs. Langley was the Aunt Alicia. He could only suppose herbrother had hinted that he was not what he seemed.

  "I was not told you were here," she said.

  "I'm glad you've come," Arthur Grenvil said. Trent could see that heonly spoke the truth. From what did he expect his sister to protect him."Mr. Trent here has an idea I'm deliberately pretending not to know whohe is."

  "I assure Mr. Trent," she said haughtily, "that at all events I knowwhat _he_ is."

  Trent looked at her a little quizzically.

  "I wonder if you really do," he commented.

  "I shall be very glad to prove it," she answered, "but I am not anxiousthat my brother should have to listen. I hoped you understood that he isunder the doctors' orders and must not be worried. As dinner is almostready and I have several things to do will you be kind enough to putthis discussion off until tomorrow morning?"

  "Just as you please," he said. "When and where?"

  "You are sta
ying at the Bassetts I think. Very well I will drive overthere tomorrow at half past ten."

  He flushed. The inference was plain. He was not permitted to meet herwithin the castle. The servant who showed him out seemed to feeldifferently today. He felt outcast.

  * * * * *

  There was a little apple orchard behind the Bassetts' stone built barnswhere each day Anthony Trent used to practise short approaches with afavorite mashie. He held it as an axiom that if a golfer kept his handin with short mashie practise he would never be off his game. He wasindustriously trying to approach over a tall spreading tree when heheard the sound of wheels outside. It was not yet time for hisappointment with Lady Daphne but he could see from the higher ground ofthe orchard that it was she. She was driving a dashing pair of chestnutsto a mail phaeton. By her side sat a man with a powerful unscrupulousface who was evidently amusing her by his conversation. Trent supposedhe was a guest at the castle, some man who had the right to meet her byreason of being on the right side of the law.

  Almost jealously Anthony Trent saw him help her to alight. He was aheavily built man but not an ungraceful one and he was exceedingly welldressed. Trent judged him to be five and forty and used to dominatingmen. He had noticed often that men most ruthless with their fellows havethe most charming ways with women.

  "I shan't be very long," Lady Daphne said laughing, "You will be able tosmoke just two cigarettes, Mr. Castoon."

  Castoon. Of course it was Rudolph Castoon the banker, the English bornmember of the great continental firm of bankers and financiers. One ofthe brothers was a leader among New York capitalists. It was said thateach Castoon was loyal to the country where it had been arranged heshould be born.

  It was in the sweet smelling sitting room of the Bassetts that Trentfound her. She was standing up and refused to be seated. Her enmity nowwas hardly concealed.

  "I find," she began, "that you have deceived me. You claimed to be oneof the guns at Colonel Langley's shoot."

  "I permitted you to assume it," he corrected, "but that is not anexcuse."

  "Colonel Langley is very anxious to know where it was I saw you andunder what circumstances."

  "You will hardly inform him as to that," said Trent smiling.

  "If it becomes necessary I shall," she replied. "At all events I was inthe house of a relative while you were there--"

  "As a thief in the night. Thank you."

  "You were there as a detective."

  She had never seen him lose his calm before. He flushed red and a lookof hatred came over his face.

  "A detective! I? If you knew how I loathed them you would never suspectme of being that."

  "If not why are you down here hounding my brother?"

  "Hasn't he told you?"

  "He says you persist in pretending to know him."

  "Lady Daphne," Trent said earnestly. "Was your brother a Private WilliamSmith, a gentleman ranker in the seventy-eighth battalion of the City ofLondon Regiment?"

  "Yes," she answered.

  "And wasn't this same man under his own name expelled from Harrow Schooland Trinity College, Cambridge."

  "Then you are a detective!" she cried.

  "On my honor, no," he exclaimed. "Lady Daphne, your brother saved mylife, and when I wanted to speak about the very terrible and unusualexperience he denied knowing me."

  "You are not telling me everything," she said after a pause, "I am gladyou are not a detective even though you may be not what I thought you,but is it reasonable you should try to force yourself on a man who quiteevidently wants to be alone with his thoughts just to thank him fordoing something every soldier was glad to do for any other alliedsoldier?"

  "There was something else," he admitted. "I may as well tell you what.We were, as we had every reason to think, dying. We told each other partof our past lives. Why I don't pretend to understand. Nerves I supposeand the feeling that nothing mattered in the least. I told him part ofmy past which in effect put a club in his hand to use over me. When Igot better I assumed he was killed. I found he wasn't and followed himhere to ask what he was going to do with his knowledge. You wonderedwhat errand I had at Dereham Old Hall. It was to read through theconfession which you burned. I had read it and replaced it before youcame in."

  "Then you know all about him?" she gasped.

  "I know what was written there," he answered. "I wanted to know so thatI could tell him I, too, had a weapon with which to fight. I am not hisenemy, far from it."

  "You mean you don't want to threaten him or hold your knowledge of whathe did over us?"

  He looked at her gloomily. To think that this was the impression she hadof him hurt.

  "So that's what you think of me," he said slowly.

  "Indeed it isn't," she answered quickly. "I didn't think it in thebeginning and I don't want to do so now, but what was one to think?"

  "It was your brother's behaviour that puzzled me," he said, "and stillpuzzles me. Don't you see I only want to be sure that he won't use whatI told him?"

  Lady Daphne looked at him curiously. Here was a man whose manners wereperfect, who seemed to have the same sports and occupation of the kindof men she knew hinting that he had done things of whose consequence hewas afraid. She supposed there were many temptations into which a manmight fall, lapses of which he might repent and still go in fear ofdiscovery.

  "I don't wonder you were bewildered," she said presently, "and Iunderstand far better than you how it was. Mr. Trent you need never beafraid that the man who was Private Smith will ever say a word to anyliving souls of what you said to him."

  "How can I be certain?" he demanded. "You don't know the rewards that aman might gain for speaking the truth about me."

  "Private William Smith and my brother Arthur are two different people."

  He looked at her in astonishment. Was the weary chase, the longuncertainty to begin again? There was never a doubt in his mind but thatwhat she told him was true even if it was hard to be believed.

  "Then where is Private Smith?" he asked. "Where is the man who knows thereal me?"

  "At the castle," she said.

  He made a gesture of despair.

  "It is incomprehensible."

  "I am going to tell you about them--about the two utterly differentmen." She said nothing for a full minute. Then she went to the door andcalled Mrs. Bassett into the room. "Please tell Mr. Castoon I shall haveto keep him waiting rather longer than I thought."

  "Certainly, my Lady," Mrs. Bassett said. Later she told her husband thatMr. Castoon looked very black at the news. "He's not the kind to likebeing kept waiting," she explained.

  "Princes of the Blood ought to be glad to wait for Lady Daphne," thetenant farmer cried.

  "You learned somehow that Arthur was expelled from Harrow. It is true.He managed to get into Trinity but lasted only a term. Then cameSandhurst and a commission finally and black disgrace. Mr. RudolphCastoon who is a friend of my eldest brother took pity on him and madehim one of his secretaries--he's in Parliament you know--but even hecouldn't do anything. Then a little while in Australia and failurethere. The last thing he did was to enlist just before the war brokeout. Colonel Langley was given the command of a London regiment andfound Arthur under the name you knew."

  "But you said he wasn't Private Smith," Trent broke in eagerly.

  "You will see later what I mean. How did you meet him?"

  Trent explained in a few words. But what confessions or boasts he hadbeen betrayed into making he said nothing about.

  "My brother was expelled from Harrow when he was eighteen. Until he wasseventeen he was one of the sweetest natured boys you could imagine. Hewas full of fun and mischief but all his tutors loved him and therewasn't a particle of vice in him. Suddenly he seemed possessed ofdevils. He drank, he gambled--and cheated--he was insolent to histeachers. It broke my mother's heart. It helped to make my father thesilent broken man he is today. It was the same when he went up toTrinity and the same when he was at Sandhurst
...." There was a longpause. Trent could see she was struggling against tears. There welled upin him an almost divine pity. He wanted to soothe her, comfort her andlet her cry on his shoulder.

  It was in this moment that Anthony Trent knew he loved her and wouldalways love her. Those passing affections of adolescence were pale, wanemotions compared with this. And it was an hour of grief to him. Herealized that his ways of life had cut him off irremediably frommarriage with such a woman as this.

  "What happened," she said at last, "when you came to after being blownfrom that dug-out?"

  "I was badly hurt," he answered, wonderingly, "those high explosivesplay the strangest tricks with one."

  "This is what happened to my brother. He was unconscious for a very longtime and his head was fearfully mangled. When he came out of ether hesaid very distinctly. 'Oh Bingo, how rottenly clumsy of you.'"

  "Who was Bingo?" Trent asked.

  "At the time nobody knew. Arthur's uniform was torn off in the explosionand his regiment unknown."

  "He could have told them," Trent asserted.

  She shook her head.

  "You are mistaken. He could not tell them. They thought he was, what'sthe word, malingering. They thought he wanted to be sent back and getout of the fighting. Then he complained of the dreadful noise. Bydegrees they found that he did not even know of the war. They thought ofcourse he was pretending. My father heard of the wound and although hehad disowned him he had him brought to our house in Grosvenor Place. Wehad specialists, those new sorts of doctors who don't depend onmedicines. Arthur thought he was still at Harrow eight years or moreago. Then I remembered a boy who shared a study with him there, a boywho had stayed here, a son of Sir Willoughby Hosken who has a place nearPenzance. Bingo was somewhere in the Struma valley with his battery andin answer to a letter said that the only act of clumsiness he could callto mind was when he accidentally hit Arthur with an Indian club in thegym at school.

  "One of the doctors went over to Harrow and found Arthur had been hitlike this and was in the infirmary for three days. Mr. Trent, it wasafter that accident he altered entirely."

  "I've heard of such cases," Trent said quickly. "Pressure of some sorton the brain they call it. There was quite an epidemic of such incidentsin America a few years ago. It was supposed to be a cure for bad boys.Then you think--"

  "I know," she said emphatically. "He is now exactly as he was when hewas a boy, gentle, thoughtful and clean. Our specialists saw the armysurgeons and they supposed that in dressing his dreadful wounds theyremoved the portions of depressed bone and so made this extraordinarycure. They say the war has proved this sort of thing again and again."

  The news which spelled salvation to Anthony Trent seemed too tremendousto believe. There was no miracle about it. It was a simple factdemonstrated by surgery and accepted now by the laity. The years inwhich Arthur Grenvil had sown wild oats and disrupted friendships andrelationships was wiped from his consciousness. Trent now understood thehalf diffident, almost shy manner so inexplicable in a man of the typeWilliam Smith had been.

  "My father thinks," the girl went on, "that as he will have to find outsome of the things he did it will be as well to prepare him for it andshield him against consequences."

  "Consequences?" he hazarded.

  "I'm afraid," she said gravely, "that it will not be easy. His creditorsfor example have learned that my father has forgiven him and they arecoming down on him. Fortunately my father can afford to pay but there isalways the dread of some adventurer turning up and letting us into somedreadful secrets."

  "Men like me," he asked.

  "You know I didn't mean that," she said. "I think it most wonderful thatyou are here, because you will be able to tell him something about thegood part of his life you know. He is always hoping that his memory willcome back but the doctors say it won't." She hesitated a little. "PoorArthur is very much depressed at times. Could you try and remember asmuch about him as possible?"

  "Surely," said Anthony Trent. "As it happens I met a man out there whoknew him well and said he was a good soldier."

  "I wish my father could know that," she said. "I'm going to ask you toluncheon tomorrow and to meet a man whose life Arthur saved would cheerhim enormously. We shall be alone." She frowned. "I'd forgotten Mr.Castoon who is probably furious at being kept waiting. I promised himI'd be back in two cigarettes time. I was going to drive in to Camelfordbut I don't think I will. I feel almost that I want to cry." She heldout her hand impulsively. "Forgive me for what I thought about you andcome to luncheon at one tomorrow."

  "You don't know how I'd like to," he said wistfully, "but you haveforgotten about my past; and I had no such excuse as your brother."

  "You are exaggerating it," she said more brightly. "Anyhow it's allover."

  Exaggerating! And even were it all over, which he doubted, a blackerpast remained than ever she dreamed of.

  "I don't want Mr. Castoon to see that I've got tears in my eyes. Pleasetell him to wait a little longer while I talk to Mrs. Bassett. _Aurevoir._"

  Anthony Trent watched her go and then sighed. And he told himself thathad he met her ten years before he would have had the strength to win afortune honestly and not take the lower road.

  He went outside to where Rudolph Castoon was sitting in the phaeton. Thetwo horses were champing at their bits, a little groom at their headstrying to soothe their high tempers. He approached the financier with nopersonal feeling of any sort. In the beginning he expected to admire theman as he did all such forceful characters. He often suspected there wasmore kinship between him and the ruthless financier type that Castoonrepresented than the world comprehended.

  Rudolph Castoon looked at him sourly.

  "Well?" he snapped.

  Anthony Trent looked at him and knew instantly that he would alwaysshare the hate he saw in the capitalist's face. For a moment he was at aloss to understand the reason. Then he saw that it was jealousy,furious, dynamic jealousy. Lady Daphne had come to see Mrs. Bassett.Instead Castoon found she had come to see a younger and better lookingman. Trent did not fall into the error of underrating Castoon. In theevent of a contest of any kind between them he would walk warily. But henever expected to see the man again and his peremptory way of speakingangered him.

  "Well?" Castoon demanded again.

  "Thank you," said Trent urbanely, "I find the air of these moorlands ofgreat benefit to me. Formerly I slept poorly but now I sleep as soon asmy head touches the pillow. And my appetite is better. I eat three eggsfor breakfast every morning. Do you sleep well?"

  "I did not come here to sleep," Castoon frowned.

  "But if you are here for long you must," Trent said pleasantly.

  "I am not in the least interested in your health or how many eggs youcan eat for breakfast." Castoon's manner was frankly rude. "I want toknow where Lady Daphne Grenvil is."

  "She said she had forgotten you," Trent answered, "she also said youwould probably be furious at being kept waiting."

  "I am," Castoon asserted. "Would it be too much to ask the reason?"

  "I expected you to," Trent said affably. The time he took to select acigarette from his case and the meticulous manner in which he lighted itadded to the other man's ill temper just as Anthony Trent intended itshould.

  "If you are quite finished, sir," Castoon cried, "I should be glad tohear."

  "As an American," Trent began airily, "I like the old family servanttradition. Lady Daphne is talking over her childhood days with Mrs.Bassett. My mother was from the Southern states and I suppose I inherita liking for that sort of thing."

  "Will you come to the point, sir?" Castoon exclaimed.

  "I thought I told you that Lady Daphne was talking over nurseryreminisences with an old servant."

  "She may be doing that now, but what was she doing before? I'll tellyou; she was talking to you. Do you deny it?"

  "My dear man," Trent cried in apparent surprise, "Deny it? I boast aboutit! It is the only thing I hope will be printed in m
y obituary notices."

  "I'm not sure I should be desolated at reading your obituary notices,"Castoon said keeping his temper back. He could say no more for LadyDaphne came hurrying along the hydrangea-bordered path to the gate.

  "I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr. Castoon," she cried.

  "I can forget everything now that you are here," he returned gallantly,"even the humour of this young man whose name I don't know."

  "Mr. Anthony Trent of New York," she told him. "You'll meet him atluncheon tomorrow."

  "That will make it a very pleasant function," the financier said grimly.He could say no more because the horses reared impatiently and for amoment there was danger.

  "That off horse nearly came over backward," Castoon said when the teamhad settled down a little and the farm was a half mile behind.

  "But it didn't," Lady Daphne said calmly, "so why worry?"

  "It would have been his fault," Castoon said venomously.

  "You don't seem to like him," she said smiling.

  "I hate any man who looks at you as he does."

  "How does he look?" she asked with an air of innocence.

  "He looks at you as if he was in love with you, and I hate any man to dothat."

  "You have no right to resent it Mr. Castoon," she said coldly. "I havetold you a hundred times that you concern yourself far too much with myaffairs."

  "I'm going to marry you," he said doggedly. "I never fail. Look at mylife history and see where I have been beaten. I know you don't care forme yet. You'll have to later."

  "My father doesn't care for you either."

  Rudolph Castoon sniffed impatiently.

  "His type is dying out. He still remains ignorant that money hasdisplaced birth."

  "It's the one thing money won't buy, though," she reminded him.

  "Birth can't buy power," the financier said quickly, "and money meanspower. Your father has had both. It would have been easier for me tomarry Daphne, daughter of the Earl of Rosecarrel, Viscount St. Just,Baron Wadebridge, Knight of the Garter, and Ambassador to Turkey, andall the rest of it, than it will be to marry you now your father hasabandoned his career."

  "That sounds merely silly to me," she exclaimed.

  "Someday I will explain to you how very sensible it is. You willunderstand exactly."

  "Do you mean you are so inordinately vain you would rather marry anambassador's daughter than the daughter of a man who isn't a powerpolitically any more?"

  "At least I can say I don't mean that. I am vain, that's true, but Iwish you were one of the daughters of a tenant farmer on these purplemoors instead of being an earl's daughter." He sighed a little. Then therecollection of Anthony Trent came back. "Who is this man Trent?" hedemanded.

  "A delightful man," she said, "an American who knows how to behave. Imet him at a houseparty somewhere or other. He used to know Arthur."

  Castoon could not keep back a sneer.

  "That vouches for him of course."

  "At least he wouldn't say anything as underbred as that," she criedangrily, and touched one of her high-mettled chestnuts with a lash.Castoon hung on to the seat as the pair tried to get away.

  "You'll kill yourself some day driving such horses as these," he saidlater. He was not a coward; but unnecessary risk always seemed achildish thing to create and he believed himself heir to a greatdestiny.