The Knave of Diamonds

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE RIDE HOME

  Sir Giles was in a decidedly evil temper as he rode home from the hunt inthe soaking rain that afternoon. The second fox had led them miles out ofthe way, and they had not been rewarded by a kill. The brute had eludedthem, profiting by the downpour that had washed away the scent. So SirGiles, having solaced himself several times with neat brandy from thelarge silver flask without which he never rode abroad, was in anythingbut a contented mood with the world in general and his own luck inparticular. Dusk had long descended when at length he turned in at hisown gates. He had given up urging his jaded animal, being too jadedhimself for the effort. But, hearing a clatter of hoofs on the drivebefore him, he did rouse himself to holler into the darkness, supposingthat his wife was ahead of him. If it were she, she was later inreturning than was her wont, but no answer came back to him, and he didnot repeat his call. After all, why should he hail her? He did not wanther company, Heaven knew. That stately demeanour of hers which once hadattracted him generally inspired in him a savage sense of resentmentnowadays. There were times when he even suspected her of despisinghim--him, the lord of the Manor, who had given her all she possessed inthe world!

  He swore a furious oath under his breath as he rode. The darkness aheadof him was all pricked by tiny red sparks, that glanced and flashed likefireflies whichever way he looked. He rubbed his eyes and they departed,only to swarm again a little farther on. The rain had soaked him to theskin. He shivered and swore again as he fumbled for his flask.

  The fiery gleams faded wholly away as the raw spirit warmed his blood andrevived his brain. He drew a breath of relief. Again he heard the soundof a horse's feet some distance in front. They seemed to fall unevenly,as though the animal were lame. Could it be the grey, he asked himself?If so, why had Anne not answered his call? She must have heard him. Heground his teeth. It was like her habitual impudence to ignore him thus.He gathered himself together and sent a furious bellow into the darkness.

  But there came back no reply. The hoofs ahead seemed to quicken into ashambling trot, that was all. And after a little he heard them no more.

  She had reached the house then, and gone within into light and comfort,and again feverishly he execrated her for not waiting for him, the coldand the rain and the dark notwithstanding. Again fitfully he began tosee those leaping points of light; but it was only here and there.Whenever he focussed his attention upon them they eluded him. For thesealso he held his wife in some fashion responsible. What did she mean byleaving him thus? How dared she enter the house that was his while hewas still groping without? He believed that she would shut his own dooragainst him if she dared. He was sure she hated him, as he hated her--ashe hated her!

  And then--suddenly a strange thing happened. Suddenly, clear-cut as acameo before his fevered vision, there arose against the drippingdarkness his wife's face. Pale and pure as the face of a saint, it shonebefore him like a star. There was no reproach in the level eyes; therewas no contempt. But they looked through him, they looked beyond him, andsaw him not.

  A violent tremor went through him, a nameless, unspeakable dread. Thecurses died upon his lips. He stared and stared again.

  And while he stared, the vision faded before his eyes into nothingness.He was alone once more in the darkness and the drenching rain; alone witha little gibing voice that seemed to come from within and yet was surelythe voice of a devil jeering a devil's tattoo in time to his horse'shoof-beats, telling him he was mad, mad, mad!

  Three minutes later he rode heavily into his own stable-yard.

  A group of servants scattered dumbly before him as he appeared. The glareof lights dazzled him, but he fancied they looked at him strangely. Heflung an oath at the groom who stepped forward to take his horse.

  "What are you staring at? What's the matter?"

  The man murmured something unintelligible.

  Sir Giles dismounted and scowled around. His limbs were stiff and notover steady.

  "What's the matter with you all?" he growled. "You look like a crowd ofdeath's heads. Hullo! What's this?"

  He had caught sight of something he had not seen before, something thatsent him striding furiously forward. For there in the centre of theyard, standing huddled on three legs, was the grey horse his wife hadridden. Limp and draggled, plastered with mud and foam, with a greatstreaming gash on the shoulder, and head hanging down in utterexhaustion, stood the grey.

  "What's this?" demanded Sir Giles again. "Where's her ladyship?"

  A shudder seemed to run through the assembled men. There was a moment'ssilence. Then old Dimsdale, the butler, who was standing in the doorwaythat led to the servants' quarters, stumped forward and made reply.

  "The animal's come home alone, Sir Giles."

  "What?" thundered his master.

  The old man faced him with respectful firmness. No one had ever seenDimsdale agitated.

  "As I said, Sir Giles," he answered, with a certain deferentialobstinacy. "The animal's come back alone."

  "Only just come in, sir," chimed in a groom. "We was just beginning towonder when he came limping in in this state. Looks as if her ladyshiphad met with a accident."

  Sir Giles rounded upon him with a violence that brought his surmisings toan abrupt end. Then, having worked off the first heat of his fury, heturned again to Dimsdale.

  "What the devil is to be done? I never saw her after the first kill."

  "And where might that be, Sir Giles?" questioned Dimsdale.

  "Up Baronmead way. It was hours ago."

  Dimsdale considered. "Shall we send and make inquiries at Baronmead,Sir Giles?"

  "No, I'm damned if I do!" said Sir Giles.

  Dimsdale considered again. "Was her ladyship riding with anyone inparticular?" he asked next.

  "No, I don't think so. Stay! I believe I saw that Errol bounder talkingto her--the one who was here the other day. But I forget when.Anyhow"--his voice rising again--"I won't have any traffic with them.I've said I won't, and I won't!"

  Dimsdale grunted. "Seems to me the only thing to do, Sir Giles. You can'tleave her lady ship to die under a hedge maybe, and not do anything tofind her."

  He spoke very deliberately, looking straight into his master's bloodshoteyes as he did so.

  "It wouldn't be hardly right, Sir Giles," he pointed out gravely. "It'slikely that young Mr. Errol will be able to give us a clue, and we can'tleave any stone unturned, being such a serious matter. I'll send on myown responsibility if you like, Sir Giles. But send we must."

  The bystanders glanced uneasily at one another in the silence thatfollowed this bold speech. The old butler's temerity was unheard of. Notone among them would have dared thus to withstand the master to his face.They waited, nervously expectant, for the vials of wrath to descend.

  Old Dimsdale waited too, still firmly watching Sir Giles. If he felt anyanxiety on his own account, however, it was not apparent. Nor did hedisplay any relief when the unpleasant tension passed and Sir Giles witha shrug turned away from him.

  "Oh, go your own way, and be damned to you! I don't care what you do.Don't stand gaping there, you fools! Get to your work! Better send forthe vet. Can't afford to have a valuable animal spoilt. Dimsdale, takesome brandy and hot water up to my room at once, before you do anythingelse. Do you hear?"

  And with that he tramped within, leaving an atmosphere of mingled reliefand indignation behind him.

  But if his words were callous, the soul of the man was far from easy ashe mounted to his room. He flung himself into the nearest chair when hearrived there and sat with eyes fixed sullenly before him. He ought to goin search of her, of course, but he was powerless. His brain was asmouldering furnace in which anxiety and anger strove luridly for themastery. But through it all he sat there torpidly staring. His body feltas though it were weighted with leaden fetters.

  He heard a step in the passage, but did not turn his head. Someoneknocked discreetly. He heard, but he took no notice. The door openedsoftly, and old Dimsdale
entered.

  "We have news, Sir Giles."

  Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke. He continued to glare heavilyinto space.

  Dimsdale paused beside him. "A messenger has just come from Baronmead intheir motor, Sir Giles," he said, speaking very distinctly. "Her ladyshiphas had a fall, and has been taken there. Mr. Errol begs that you will goback in the motor, as her ladyship's condition is considered serious."

  He stopped. Sir Giles said nothing whatever.

  "The messenger is waiting, Sir Giles."

  Still no response of any sort.

  Dimsdale waited a moment, then very respectfully he bent and touched hismaster's shoulder.

  "Sir Giles!"

  Sir Giles turned slowly at last, with immense effort it seemed. Heglowered at Dimsdale for a space. Then, "Bring some brandy and water," hesaid, "hot!"

  "But the messenger, Sir Giles!"

  "What?" Sir Giles glared a moment longer, then as anger came uppermost,the smouldering furnace leapt into sudden seething flame. "Tell him to goto the devil!" he thundered. "And when you've done that, bring me somebrandy and water--hot!"

  As Dimsdale departed upon his double errand he dropped back into hisformer position, staring dully before him, under scowling brows.

  When Dimsdale returned he was sunk in the chair asleep.