Part 29 (2/2)

A dim gleam of mirth relieved Val's mind a trifle: when the devil of jealousy was in possession he always cast out Bernard's sense of humour, a subordinate imp at the best of times and not of a healthy breed. ”Besides, there's Isabel to consider. She'll be in a great state of mind, poor child, though it probably isn't in the least her fault. By the bye, if there's no more I can do for you, I ought to go home and see after Jim. He expressed his intention of sitting up for Isabel, and I only wonder he hasn't been down here before now. Probably he went to sleep over his Church Times, or else buried himself in some venerable volume of patristic literature and forgot about her. But when f.a.n.n.y gets down he'll be tearing his hair.”

”Go by all means,” said Bernard. ”You must be f.a.gged out, Val; have you been at the piano all these hours? How you spoil me, you and Laura! Get some breakfast, lie down for a nap, and after that you can go on to Countisford and meet them in the car.”

”All right!” In face of Bernard's thoughtful and practical good humour Val's suspicions had faded. ”Shall I come back or will you send the car up for me?” Neither he nor Clowes saw anything unusual in these demands on his time and energy: it was understood that the duties of the agency comprised doing anything Bernard wanted done at any hour of day or night.

”I'll send her up. Stop a bit.” Clowes knit his brows and looked down, evidently deep in thought. ”Yes, that's the ticket. You take Isabel home and send Lawrence and Laura on alone. Drop them at the lodge before you drive her up. She'll be tired out and it's a good step up the hill. And you must apologize for me to your father for giving him so much anxiety. Lawrence must have been abominably careless to let them lose their train: they ought to have had half an hour to spare.”

”He is casual.”

”Oh very: thinks of nothing but himself. Pity you and he can't strike a balance! Good-bye. Mind you take your sister straight home and apologize to your father for Hyde's antics. Say I'm sorry, very sorry to mix her up in such a pickle, and I wouldn't have let her in for it if it could have been avoided. Touch the bell for me before you go, will you? I want Barry.”

Val let himself out by the window and the impa.s.sive valet entered. But it was some time before Bernard spoke to him.

”Is that you, Barry? I didn't hear you come in.”

”Now what's in the wind?” speculated Barry behind his professional mask. ”Up all night and civil in the morning? Oh no, I don't think.”

”Shall I wheel you to your room, sir?”

”Not yet,” said Clowes. He waited to collect his strength.

”Shut all those windows.” Barry obeyed. ”Turn on the electric light . . . .Put up the shutters and fasten them securely . . . .

Now I want you to go all over the house and shut and fasten all the other ground floor windows: then come back to me.”

”Am I to turn on the electric light everywhere, sir?” Barry asked after a pause.

”Where necessary. Not in the billiard room; nor in Mrs. Clowes'

parlour.” Barry had executed too many equally singular orders to raise any demur. He came back in ten minutes with the news that it was done.

”Now wheel me into the hall,” said Clowes. Barry obeyed. ”Shut the front doors. . . . Lock them and put up the chain.”

This time Barry did hesitate. ”Sir, if I do that no one won't be able to get in or out except by the back way: and it's close on seven o'clock.”

”You do what you're told.”

Barry obeyed.

”Now wheel my couch in front of the doors.”

”Mad as a March hare!” was Barry's private comment. ”Lord, I wish Mr. Stafford was here.”

”That will do,” said Clowes.

He settled his great shoulders square and comfortable on his pillow and folded his arms over his breast.

”I want you to take an important message from me to the other servants. Tell them that if Mrs. Clowes or Captain Hyde come to the house they're not to be let in. Mrs. Clowes has left me and I do not intend her to return. If they force their way in I'll deal with them, but any one who opens the door will leave my service today. Now get me some breakfast. I'll have some coffee and eggs and bacon. Tell Fryar to see that the boiled milk's properly hot.”

Barry, stupefied, went out without a word, leaving the big couch, and the big helpless body stretched out upon it, drawn like a bar across the door.

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