Part 47 (1/2)

”Any answer, sir?” inquired the boy, when he saw I had finished reading.

”Yes, Charles,” I said; ”there is an answer, but I'm afraid I can't send it by post. Wait a minute, though,” I added, as he began to put on his cap, ”I want you to send off a wire for me if you will. It will take a minute or two to write.”

I went into the hut, and hastily scribbled a telegram to Latimer, telling him that I had written to McMurtrie, but that otherwise there was nothing to report. I copied this out carefully in the simple cypher we had agreed on, and handed it to the boy, together with five s.h.i.+llings.

”You can keep the change,” I said, ”and buy fireworks with it. I've been too busy to make any yet.”

He gurgled out some expressions of grat.i.tude and took his departure, while I renewed my attack upon the sardines and bread.

Fortified by this simple cheer, I devoted the remainder of the morning to tidying up my shed. I felt that I was living in such uncertain times that it would be just as well to remove all possible traces of the work I had been engaged on, and by midday the place looked almost as tidy as when I had first entered it.

I then treated myself to a cigar and began to keep a look-out for Joyce. She had not said in her letter what time she would arrive, but I knew that there were a couple of trains early in the afternoon, and I remembered that I had told her to come straight to the hut.

It must have been getting on for two when I suddenly caught sight of a motor car with a solitary occupant coming quickly along the Tilbury road. It pulled up as it reached the straggling plantation opposite the hut, and a minute later a girl appeared from between the trees, and started to walk towards me across the marsh.

I was a little surprised, for I didn't know that Joyce included motor driving amongst her other accomplishments, and she had certainly never mentioned to me that there was any chance of her coming down in a car. Then, a moment later, the truth suddenly hit me with paralysing abruptness. It was not Joyce at all; it was Sonia.

I don't know why the discovery should have given me such a shock, for in a way I had been expecting her to turn up any time. Still a shock it undoubtedly did give me, and for a second or so I stood there staring stupidly at her like a man who has suddenly lost the use of his limbs. Then, pulling myself together, I turned away from the window and strode to the door.

She came up to me swiftly and eagerly, moving with that strange lissom grace that always reminded me of some untamed animal. Her hurried walk across the marsh had brought a faint tinge of colour into the usual ivory clearness of her skin, and her dark eyes were alive with excitement.

I held out my hands to welcome her. ”I was beginning to think you'd forgotten the address, Sonia,” I said.

With that curious little deep laugh of hers she pulled my arms round her, and for several seconds we remained standing in this friendly if a trifle informal att.i.tude. Then, perceiving no reasonable alternative, I bent down and kissed her.

”Ah!” she whispered. ”At last! At last!”

Deserted as the marsh was, it seemed rather public for this type of dialogue, so drawing her inside the hut I closed the door.

She looked round at everything with rapid, eager interest. ”I have heard all about the powder,” she said. ”It's quite true, isn't it? You have done what you hoped to do?”

I nodded. ”I've blown up about twenty yards of Canvey Island with a few ounces of it,” I said. ”That seems good enough for a start.”

She laughed again with a sort of fierce satisfaction. ”You have done something more than that. You have given me just the power I needed to help you.” She came up and with a quick impulsive gesture laid her two hands on my arm. ”Neil, Neil, my lover! In a few hours from now you can have everything you want in the world. Everything, Neil--money, freedom, love--” She broke off, panting slightly with her own vehemence, and then drawing my face down to hers, kissed me again on the lips.

I suppose I ought to have felt rather ashamed of myself, but I think I was too interested in what she was going to say to worry much about anything else.

”Tell me, Sonia,” I said. ”What am I to do? Can I trust your father and McMurtrie?”

She let go my arm, and stepping back sat down on the edge of the small table which I had been using as a writing-desk.

”Trust them!” she repeated half scornfully. ”Yes, you can trust them if you want to go on being cheated and robbed. Can't you see--can't you guess the way they have been lying to you?”

”Of course I can,” I said coolly; ”but when one's between the Devil and Dartmoor, I prefer the Devil every time. I don't enjoy being cheated, but it's much more pleasant than being starved or flogged.”

She leaned forward, holding the edge of the table with her hands.

”There's no need for either. As I've told you, in a few hours from now we can be away from England with money enough to last us for our lives. Do you know what your invention is worth? Do you know what use they mean to make of it?”

”I imagine they hope to sell it,” I answered. ”It wouldn't be difficult to find a customer.”