CHAPTER XXXIII
A gleam of day was in the sky as Hamel, with Mrs. Fentolin by his side,passed along the path which led from the Tower to St. David's Hall.Lights were still burning from its windows; the outline of the buildingitself was faintly defined against the sky. Behind him, across the sea,was that one straight line of grey merging into silver. The rain hadceased and the wind had dropped. On either side of them stretched thebrimming creeks.
"Can we get into the house without waking any one?" he asked.
"Quite easily," she assured him. "The front door is never barred."
She walked by his side, swiftly and with surprising vigour. In thestill, grey light, her face was more ghastly than ever, but there was anew firmness about her mouth, a new decision in her tone. They reachedthe Hall without further speech, and she led the way to a small dooron the eastern side, through which they entered noiselessly and passedalong a little passage out into the hall. A couple of lights were stillburning. The place seemed full of shadows.
"What are you going to do now?" she whispered.
"I want to ring up London on the telephone," he replied. "I know thatthere is a detective either in the neighbourhood or on his way here, butI shall tell my friend that he had better come down himself."
She nodded.
"I am going to release Esther," she said. "She is locked in her room.The telephone is in the study. I will come down there to you."
She passed silently up the broad staircase. Hamel groped his way acrossthe hall into the library. He turned on the small electric reading-lampand drew up a chair to the side of the telephone. Even as he lifted thereceiver to his ear, he looked around him half apprehensively. It seemedas though every moment he would hear the click of Mr. Fentolin's chair.
He got the exchange at Norwich without difficulty, and a few minuteslater a sleepy reply came from the number he had rung up in London. Itwas Kinsley's servant who answered.
"I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important business,"Hamel announced.
"Very sorry, sir," the man repelled. "Mr. Kinsley left town last nightfor the country."
"Where has he gone?" Hamel demanded quickly. "You can tell me. You knowwho I am; I am Mr. Hamel."
"Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen."
"Is that Bullen?" Hamel asked.
The man admitted the fact.
"Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left Londonwere connected with the police?" he inquired.
The man hesitated.
"I believe so, sir," he admitted. "The gentlemen started in a motor-carand were going to drive all night."
Hamel laid down the receiver. At any rate, he would not be left longwith this responsibility upon him. He walked out into the hall. Thehouse was still wrapped in deep silence. Then, from somewhere above him,coming down the stairs, he heard the rustle of a woman's gown. He lookedup, and saw Miss Price, fully dressed, coming slowly towards him.She held up her finger and led the way back into the library. She wasdressed as neatly as ever, but there was a queer light in her eyes.
"I have seen Mrs. Seymour Fentolin," she said. "She tells me that youhave left Mr. Fentolin and the others in the subterranean room of theTower."
Hamel nodded.
"They have Dunster down there," he told her. "I followed them in; itseemed the best thing to do. I have a friend from London who is on hisway down here now with some detective officers, to enquire into thematter of Dunster's disappearance."
"Are you going to leave them where they are until these people arrive?"she asked.
"I think so," he replied, after a moment's hesitation. "I don't seem tohave had time to consider even what to do. The opportunity came, and Iembraced it. There they are, and they won't dare to do any further harmto Dunster now. Mrs. Fentolin was down in my room, and I thought it bestto bring her back first before I even parleyed with them again."
"You must be careful," she advised slowly. "The man Dunster has beendrugged, he has lost some of his will; he may have lost some of hismental balance. Mr. Fentolin is clever. He will find a dozen ways towriggle out of any charge that can be brought against him. You know whathe has really done?"
"I can guess."
"He has kept back a document signed by the twelve men in America whocontrol the whole of Wall Street, who control practically the moneymarkets of the world. That document is a warning to Germany that theywill have no war against England. Owing to Mr. Fentolin, it has not beendelivered, and the Conference is sitting now. War may be declared at anymoment."
"But as a matter of common sense," Hamel asked, "why does Mr. Fentolindesire war?"
"You do not understand Mr. Fentolin," she told him quietly. "He is notlike other men. There are some who live almost entirely for the sakeof making others happy, who find joy in seeing people content andsatisfied. Mr. Fentolin is the reverse of this. He has but one cravingin life: to see pain in others. To see a human being suffer is to him adebauch of happiness. A war which laid this country waste would fillhim with a delight which you could never understand. There are no normalhuman beings like this. It is a disease in the man, a disease which cameupon him after his accident."
"Yet you have all been his slaves," Hamel said curiously.
"We have all been his slaves," she admitted, "for different reasons.Before his accident came, Mr. Fentolin was my master and the only manin the world for me. After his accident, I think my feelings for him,if anything, grew stronger. I became his slave. I sold my conscience, myself-respect, everything in life worth having, to bring a smile to hislips, to help him through a single moment of his misery. And just latelythe reaction has come. He has played with me just as he would sit andpull the legs out of a spider to watch its agony. I have been one of hisfavourite amusements. And even now, if he came into this room I thinkthat I should be helpless. I should probably fall at his feet and prayfor forgiveness."
Hamel looked at her wonderingly.
"I have come down to warn you," she went on. "It is possible that thisis the beginning of the end, that his wonderful fortune will desert him,that his star has gone down. But remember that he has the brains andcourage of genius. You think that you have him in a trap. Don't besurprised, when you go back, to find that he has turned the tables uponyou."
"Impossible!" Hamel declared. "I looked all round the place. There isn'ta window or opening anywhere. The trap-door is in the middle of theceiling and it is fifteen feet from the floor. It shuts with a spring."
"It may be as you say," she observed. "It may be that he is safe.Remember, though, if you go near him, that he is desperate."
"Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?" he interrupted.
"She is with her mother," the woman replied, impatiently. "She is comingdown. Tell me, what are you going to do with Mr. Fentolin? Nothing elsematters."
"I have a friend," Hamel answered, "who will see to that."
"If you are relying upon the law," she said, "I think you will findthat the law cannot touch him. Mr. Dunster was brought to the house ina perfectly natural manner. He was certainly injured, and injured ina railway accident. Doctor Sarson is a fully qualified surgeon, and hewill declare that Mr. Dunster was unfit to travel. If necessary, theywill have destroyed the man's intelligence. If you think that you havehim broken, let me warn you that you may be disappointed. Let me, if Imay, give you one word of advice."
"Please do," Hamel begged.
She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free from any sort ofemotion.
"You have taken up some sort of position here," she continued, "as afriend of Mrs. Seymour Fentolin, a friend of the family. Don't let themcome back under the yoke. You know the secret of their bondage?"
"I know it," he admitted.
"They have been his slaves because their absolute obedience to his willwas one of the conditions of his secrecy. He has drawn the cords tootight. Better let the truth be known, if needs be, than have their threelives broken. Don't let them go back under
his governance. For me, Icannot tell. If he comes back, as he will come back, I may become hisslave again, but let them break away. Listen--that is Mrs. Fentolin."
She left him. Hamel followed her out into the hall. Esther and hermother were already at the foot of the stairs. He drew them into thestudy. Esther gave him her hands, but she was trembling in every limb.
"I am terrified!" she whispered. "Every moment I think I can hear theclick of that awful carriage. He will come back; I am sure he will comeback!"
"He may," Hamel answered sturdily, "but never to make you people hisslaves again. You have done enough. You have earned your freedom."
"I agree," Mrs. Fentolin said firmly. "We have gone on from sacrificeto sacrifice, until it has become a habit with us to consider him themaster of our bodies and our souls. To-day, Esther, we have reached thebreaking point. Not even for the sake of that message from the otherside of the grave, not even to preserve his honour and his memory, canwe do more."
Hamel held up his finger. He opened the French windows, and theyfollowed him out on to the terrace. The grey dawn had broken now overthe sea. There were gleams of fitful sunshine on the marshes. Somedistance away a large motor-car was coming rapidly along the road.
The Vanished Messenger Page 33
