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Great Secret

<h2 id="id00980" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XIV</h2> <h5 id="id00981">GATHERING JACKALS</h5> Guest for the remainder of the morning seemed to have fallen into a sort of stupor. He declined to sit in the garden or come down to lunch. When I went up to his room, he was lying upon a couch, half undressed, and with a dressing-gown wrapped around him. He opened his eyes when I came in, but waved me away. "I am thinking," he said. "Don't interrupt me; I want to be alone for an hour or so." "But you must have something to eat," I insisted. "You will lose your strength if you don't." "Quite right," he admitted. "Send me up some soup, and let me have pencil and paper." He was supplied with both. When I went up an hour later, he was smoking a cigarette and writing. "I do not wish," he said, "to be worried with any more doctors. It is only a farce, and I have little time to spare." "Nonsense!" I answered. "Rust declares that there is very little the matter with you. He has sent for a friend to come and have a look at you." A little gesture of impatience escaped him. "My dear Courage," he said, "I am obliged to you for all this care; but I am quite sure that, in your inner consciousness, you realize as I do that it is sheer waste of time." He drew his dressing-gown a little closer around him. The hollows under his eyes seemed to have grown deeper since the morning. "I am fairly run to earth," he continued. "Even these few hours of life I owe to my enemies. They hope to profit by them, of course. If you are the man I think you are, they will be mistaken. But don't waste my time with doctors." He began to write again. I made some perfunctory remark which he entirely ignored. Just then I was called away. He watched my departure with obvious relief. I was told that a stranger was waiting to see me in the library. My first thought was of the doctor. When I arrived there, I found a young man whose face was familiar, but whom I could not at once place. Then, like a flash, I remembered. It was the younger of the two men who had forced their way into my room at the Hotel Universal. Now I was in no very good humor for dealing with these gentry. I had a distinct inclination to take him by the collar of the coat and throw him out. I fancy that he divined from my face how I was feeling, for he began hastily to explain his presence. "I am very sorry to be an intruder, Mr. Courage," he said in his slow, precise English. "I had no wish to come at all. We were willing to leave you undisturbed. But we do not understand why you have sent for a doctor from London—and especially Professor Kauppmann!" I looked at him deliberately. He was wearing English clothes—a dark tweed suit, ill-cut, and apparently ready-made; but the foreigner was written large all over him, from the tie of his bow to his narrow patent boots. His eyes were fixed anxiously upon me—large black eyes with long, feminine eyelashes. I think that if he had not been under the shelter of my own roof, I must have laid violent hands upon him. "Why the devil should you understand?" I exclaimed. "Mr. Guest is my visitor, and if I choose to send for a doctor to see him, it is my business and nobody else's. If you have come here with any idea of bullying me, I am afraid you have wasted your time." "You have evidently," he answered, "not troubled yourself to understand the situation! Mr. Guest is our prisoner!" "Your what?" I exclaimed. "Our prisoner," the young man answered. "Let me ask you this! Has Mr. Guest himself encouraged you in your attempt to interfere between him and his inevitable fate? No! I am sure that he has not! He accepts what he knows must happen! A few days more or less of life—what do they matter?" "You make me feel inclined," I said grimly, "to test your theory." The young man stepped back. My fingers were itching to take him by the throat, and I think that he read the desire in my face. "Will you allow me to see Mr. Guest?" he asked. "No! I'm d——d if I will," I answered. "I shall give you," I added, with my hand upon the bell, "exactly two minutes to leave this house." The young man smiled superciliously, but he picked up his hat. "I suppose, Mr. Courage, I must not blame you," he remarked, "You have all the characteristics of your country-people. You meet a delicate situation with the tactics of a bull!" I laid my hand gently, but firmly upon his shoulder. We were half-way down the hall now, and the front door was wide open. I longed to throw him out, but I restrained myself. He was perfectly conscious, I am sure, of my inclination, but he showed no signs of uneasiness. "I admit," I said calmly, "that you seem, all of you, to be engaged in proceedings of an extraordinary nature, which I do not in the least understand. But under my own roof, at any rate, I am master. I will not tolerate any interference with my guests; and as for Mr. Stanley from Liverpool and you, whatever you may call yourself, I will not have you near the place! You see my lodge gates," I added, pointing down the avenue, "I shall stand here until you have passed through them. If you come again, you will meet with a different reception!" The young man laughed unpleasantly. "Never fear, Mr. Courage," he answered. "Always we try first the simple means. If they should fail, we have many surer ways of gaining our ends. Au revoir!" He left me and walked briskly off down the avenue. I fetched a pair of field-glasses, and watched him until he reached the lodge gates. A few moments later I saw him climb into a motor car, and vanish in a cloud of dust…. Later in the afternoon a victoria drew up before my front door just as I was starting for the village. Lady Dennisford leaned forward as I approached. She was closely veiled, but her voice shook with anxiety. "How is he?" she asked. "It is hard to say," I answered. "He has been writing for the last three hours. I was just going down to see if Rust has heard from the London man he wired for." "Do you know why," she whispered, "he is so sure that he is going to die?" I hesitated for a moment. "He seems to imagine," I said, "that he has some enemies." She sighed. "I am afraid," she said, "that it is no imagination." I looked at her in surprise. "He has told me, perhaps," she said, a little hastily, "more than he has told you, and perhaps I am in a better position to understand. Mr. Courage, I wonder whether it would be possible for me to have an interview with any one of these men who are watching him." "If you had been here a few hours ago," I said, "it would have been very possible indeed. One of them was here." "What did he want?" she asked sharply. "To see Mr. Guest, for one thing!" "Did you allow it?" "No! Guest is writing secrets with a loaded revolver by his side. He certainly does not want to see any of that crew." "Oh! he is mad," she murmured. "Why should he not buy his life? What else is there that counts?" "There are two to a bargain," I answered. "I do not think that he has value to give." "Oh! he has," she answered, "if only he would be reasonable." We were silent for a moment. In the distance, coming up the avenue, was the figure of a man. I watched him with curiosity. Finally I pointed him out to Lady Dennisford. "Do you see this man coming up to the house?" I said—"a sleek, middle-aged man smoking a cigar?" "I see him," she answered. "What do you think he looks like?" I asked. "A prosperous tradesman," she answered. "A friend of your bailiff's, perhaps." "He calls himself Mr. Stanley from Liverpool," I answered, "and you can bargain with him for Guest's life." "He is one of them!" she exclaimed. "He is," I answered grimly, for I had good reason to know it. She got out of the carriage at once. "I am going to meet him," she said. "No! please let me go alone," she added, as I prepared to accompany her. "Afterwards we may need you." I sent her carriage round to the stables, and I stood upon my steps watching her. Slim and elegant, she walked with swift level footsteps towards the approaching figure. I saw him shade his eyes with his hand as she approached; when she was within a few yards of him he took his cigar from his mouth and raised his hat. They stood for a moment or two talking; then Lady Dennisford turned, and they both came slowly towards the house. As they drew near me, she came on rapidly ahead. "He is willing," she declared. "He will make terms. Where can we talk alone, we three?" I led the way to my study. Mr. Stanley greeted me affably and with a commendable assumption of bluff respect. "Fine place of yours, Mr. Courage," he declared. "Very fine place indeed. No wonder you prefer a country life. Finest thing in the world." I made a pretence of answering him. But when we were in the study and the door was closed behind us, I felt that there was no longer any need to mince words. "Mr. Stanley," I said, "Lady Dennisford says that you are willing to abandon your persecution of my guest for a consideration." He smiled upon us slowly. "Persecution," he remarked thoughtfully, "well, it is a harmless word. Mind, I admit nothing. But I am willing to hear what you have to say." "This first, then," I declared. "Will you tell me why, as a magistrate of this county, I should not be justified in signing a warrant for your apprehension?" "On what charge?" he asked. "Conspiracy to murder," I answered. He seemed to consider the suggestion with perfect seriousness. "Yes!" he admitted, "it could be done. Putting myself in your place I should even imagine that it might be the most obvious course. But have you considered what the probable result would be?" "It would keep you out of mischief for a time, at any rate." "Not for a day," he answered softly. "In the first place, the slenderness of your evidence, which, by the by, when the affair came to trial would disappear altogether, would necessitate bail; and, in the second, were I to be swept off the face of the earth, there are thousands ready to take my place. Besides, no man likes to make himself the laughing stock of his friends and the press; and, forgive me, Mr. Courage, if I remind you that that is precisely what would happen in your case." "Suppose, for a moment, then," said, "that I abandon that possibility. Make your own proposals. I do not know who you are or what you stand for. I do not know whether this is an affair of private vengeance, or whether you stand for others. That poor fellow upstairs cannot have a long life before him in any case. What is there we can offer you to leave him in peace?" "You two—nothing," Mr. Stanley said gravely. "He himself can buy his life from us, if he wills." "Then can I—or Lady Dennisford here," I asked, "be your ambassador? Can we tell him your terms?" Mr. Stanley shook his head. "It is impossible," he said. "Matters would have to be discussed between us which may not even be mentioned before any other person." "You mean that you would have to see him alone?" "Precisely!" I turned to Lady Dennisford. "He would never consent!" I declared. "You must make him," she answered. "Mr. Courage!" "Lady Dennisford!" "Let me speak to you alone for a moment," she begged, laying her hand upon my arm. "Mr. Stanley will excuse us, I am sure." "By all means," he declared, selecting an easy-chair. "You will await us here?" I asked. "Certainly!" "On parole?" "On parole, if you will give me a cigar." I rang the bell for refreshments. Then Lady Dennisford and I left the room together. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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