Part 32 (1/2)

”When did you notice that?” asked Chayne, quickly. ”When did you first notice it?”

Sylvia reflected for a moment.

”The day after you had gone.”

”Are you sure?” asked Chayne, with a certain intensity.

”Quite.”

Chayne nodded his head.

”I did not understand the reason of the hurry. And I was perplexed--and also a little alarmed. Everything which I did not understand frightened me in those days.” She spoke as if ”those days” and all their dark events belonged to some dim period of which no consequence could reach her now.

”Our departure had almost the look of a flight.”

”Yes,” said Chayne. For his part he was not surprised at their flight. He had pa.s.sed more than one wakeful night during the last few months arguing and arguing again whether or no he should have disclosed to Sylvia the meaning of that softly opening door and the shadow on the ceiling as he read it. He might have been wrong; if so, he would have added to Sylvia's burden of troubles yet another, and one more terrible than all the rest.

He might have been right; and if so, he might have enabled Sylvia to avert a tragedy. Thus the argument had revolved in a circle and left him always in the same doubt. Now he understood that his explanation of the incident had been confirmed. The loud whistle from the darkness of the road, the yokel's cry, which had driven Garratt Skinner from the room, as noiselessly as he had entered it, had done more than that--they had driven him from the neighborhood altogether. Some one had seen him--had seen him standing just behind Walter Hine in the lighted room--and on the next day he had fled!

”I was right,” he said, absently, ”right to keep silent.” For here was Sylvia at his side and the dreaded peril unfulfilled. ”Well, you returned to London?” he added, hastily.

”Yes. There is something of which I did not tell you, that night when we were together on the downs. Walter Hine had begun to take cocaine.”

Chayne started.

”Cocaine!” he cried.

”Yes. My father taught him to take it.”

”Your father,” said Chayne, slowly, trying to fit this new and astounding fact in with the rest. ”But why?”

”I think I can tell you,” said Sylvia. ”My father knew quite well that he had me working against him, trying to rescue Walter Hine out of his hands. And I was beginning to get some power. He understood that, and destroyed it. I was no match for him. I thought that I knew something of the under side of life. But he knew more, ever so much more, and my knowledge was of no avail. He taught Walter Hine the craving for cocaine, and he satisfied the craving--there was his power. He provided the drug.

I do not know--I might perhaps have fought against my father and won. But against my father and a drug I was helpless. My father obtained it in sufficient quant.i.ty, withheld it at times, gave it at other times, played with him, tantalized him, gratified him. You can understand there was only one possible result. Walter Hine became my father's slave, his dog.

I no longer counted in his thoughts at all. I was nothing.”

”Yes,” said Chayne.

The device was subtle, diabolically subtle. But he wondered whether it was only to counterbalance and destroy Sylvia's influence that Garratt Skinner had introduced cocaine to Hine's notice; whether he had not had in view some other end, even still more sinister.

”I saw very little of Mr. Hine after our return to London,” she continued. ”He did not come often to the house, but when he did come, each time I saw that he had changed. He had grown nervous and violent of temper. Even before we left Dorsets.h.i.+re the violence had become noticeable.”

”Oh!” said Chayne, looking quickly at Sylvia. ”Before you left Dorsets.h.i.+re?”

”Yes; and my father seemed to me to provoke it, though I could not guess why. For instance--”

”Yes?” said Chayne. ”Tell me!”

He spoke quietly enough, but once again there was audible a certain intensity in his voice. There had been an occasion when Sylvia had given to him more news of Garratt Skinner than she had herself. Was she to do so once more? He leaned forward with his eyes on hers.

”The night when you came back to me. Do you remember, Hilary?” and a smile lightened his face.