I got round to the side away from the house and started to open the driver’s door. I knew that if I sat in the car, I should have a very good idea whether it was the one I had sat in before; the feel of the seat, the angle of the windscreen, the set of the wheel, are the sort of things that register themselves in your mind. I had got the handle half turned, when the front door opened. I stood there like a fool, looking through the car at the brightly lighted hall and steps. Some one had switched on an outside light as well. It looked like a stage setting with the leading lady in the limelight.
Anna was the leading lady. She wore a gold dress and a gold and crimson shawl. I’ll admit she looked handsome.
Arbuthnot Markham was just behind her, and she was talking to him over her shoulder. There didn’t seem to be any servant about.
I didn’t wait of course. I let go of the handle and got behind the nearest pillar. The portico ran right across the drive, with pillars along the edge of it. I got behind the middle pillar, and was glad to find it supplemented by some sort of creeper which almost doubled its width. I could hear their voices coming nearer, and then I heard the slam of the door.
I looked through the creeper and saw the shape of Anna’s head against the light. She was in the driver’s seat, so there wasn’t any chauffeur. I hadn’t time to wonder what had happened to Z.10, because I’d hardly seen Anna before Arbuthnot came round the back of the car. I just saw his white shirt-front, and then he turned away from me and leaned on the window by Anna.
It was a very uncomfortable position for me. Eavesdropping isn’t much in my line. I hadn’t the slightest interest in Anna’s private affairs, but I didn’t see my way out of the situation. If they were going to talk about their own concerns, I should feel like a cad. But if, by any chance, they were going to talk about Z.10, or my uncle, or me, I was bound to listen.
Well, first of all he said something so low that I didn’t catch it; but I heard her say,
“I can’t, Corinna Lee is staying. I’m not advertising this trip.”
He said something again, and she laughed and said,
“You’ll have to put up with it.”
That sounds most frightfully ordinary, but it struck me no end. I’ve known Anna for about twenty-six years, and what struck me was this-she was speaking like an ordinary human being, not acting. It came over me that she felt, in some queer sort of way, at home with Arbuthnot; she didn’t trouble to act for him.
I was so taken up with thinking this that I must have missed something, because all of a sudden he was saying,
“To-morrow?”
And she chipped in with, “Yes, to-morrow. I told you- it’s his wedding day.”
That brought me up sharp, because it brought us all back to Uncle John. He’s tremendously keen on anniversaries, and his wedding-day is always kept with a lot of fuss- flowers in front of my aunt’s portrait, and a queer sort of ceremonial, going through her letters, and her jewelry, and their wedding presents. I’d forgotten the exact date, but it came somewhere in this week.
Arbuthnot said, “You’ve made up your mind?”
She sounded vexed when she said, “Yes, of course I have. I don’t know why I hesitated. He’s for it.” And she laughed again, a hard angry laugh.
I had never heard Anna talk like that in my life. It interested me very much. I wondered if it was Uncle John who was “for it,” and exactly what that meant. And whilst I was wondering she started the car.
I heard two things more, and I’m hanged if I can make head or tail of them.
Anna said, just out of the blue as it were,
“They’ll be sewn inside his coat.”
And Arbuthnot Markham said,
“It’s risky. Are you sure of her?”
Then she called out, “Good-night,” and he said angrily, “You’re in a deuce of a hurry!”
And that was all.
The car went away down the drive, and Arbuthnot went into the house and shut the door.
XXIX
September 25th-I went home and went to bed. I didn’t think I should sleep, but I was dog-tired and I pitched into sleep without knowing anything about it. One minute I was thinking I was going to lie awake for the rest of the night, and the next I was waking up into what I thought was a thunderstorm, but it was only Mrs. Bell banging on the door.
It wasn’t till I was up and in the middle of shaving that I remembered I’d been having a dream about Isobel. It worried me, because I couldn’t remember what I had dreamt. I kept on trying, and it wasn’t any good.
As soon as I’d had breakfast, I did up all Z.10’s money and went off the nearest post-office to buy a registered envelope and push it off. I kept three pounds as salary for the last week-I didn’t think it was reasonable to leave myself without a penny at a moment’s notice.
When I’d got rid of the stuff, I felt a good deal better. I think I’d really been afraid that something might argue me into keeping it. Of course I should have to do something about a job at once. Last night the prospects of my getting one had seemed particularly murky, but now I didn’t think they looked so bad.
One of the people I had met a few days ago was Baron, whose young brother was at school with me. I’d never known the elder Baron particularly well, but he was very affable, and after I’d lunched with him and he’d told me all about Puggy and the job he’d got in Brazil, he said,
“You’re fixed up, I suppose, or you might join him. You’re just the sort of chap he’s looking for.”
Well, that was a big vague, but I thought I’d go and see Baron and ask what about it. Whatever happened, Z.10 had done me one good turn-he’d pushed me into going about and meeting people again. I’d got to the point where I’d run a mile if I thought I saw a pal.
I rang Baron up, and found he’d gone to Scotland, so I got his address and wrote to him. I also wrote to a man called Hartness, who had been very friendly, and who, I knew, had a lot of irons in the fire.
I went out and posted the letters.
When I came in, I met Fay on the stairs between her landing and mine. I hadn’t time to wonder what had taken her upstairs, because she began to explain the minute she saw me:
“I’ve been up to your room. You needn’t be frightened- there weren’t any love-letters lying about. Car, you really oughtn’t to glare like that-I haven’t stolen anything.”
She got as far as that, speaking in a sort of nervous rush, and then, to my surprise, she blushed, a real honest, unbecoming blush, and dashed past me into her own room.
Any other time, I suppose, I should have gone after her and asked her what she was playing at; but I was still angry. She had told me a lot of perfectly pointless lies and then tried to make out that it was something to do with me. I thought I’d cool down a bit before I had it out with her and told her what a little rotter she’d been.
I had hardly got to the top of the stairs when I heard Mrs. Bell calling me. She was halfway up the bottom flight, puffing and panting and waving an orange envelope.
I ran down, of course.
“Another of those there telegrafts! They’ll be keeping a messenger special for you if it goes on like this,” she said.
I wondered what on earth Z.10 could be wiring to me about. But the telegram wasn’t from Z.10.
It was from Isobel.
It said, “Must see you. Very urgent indeed. Meet me Olding Crescent Putney eight-thirty to-night without fail. Isobel.”
I stared and stared at the words. First they didn’t seem to mean anything, and then they seemed to mean a great deal too much, and then they went blank and didn’t mean anything at all.