Part 34 (1/2)

”Mrs Heaton has sent you on some commission, I suppose?”

”Yes, sir.”

”You joined this train at Exeter, then?”

”I came from Exmouth to Exeter, and changed,” she explained. ”I saw you get in at Lympston.” My heart sank within me. It was evident that this woman had been sent by my self-styled wife to keep watch upon my movements. If I intended to escape I should be compelled to make terms with her.

Those sharp dark eyes, with a curious light in them--eyes that seemed strangely staring and vacant at times--were fixed upon me, while the smile about her thin lips was clearly one of triumph, as though she had caught me in the act of flying from my home.

I reflected, but next moment resolved to take her into my confidence. I disliked her, for her manner was somewhat eccentric, and, furthermore, I had only her own word that she was really maid to that angular woman who called herself my wife. Nevertheless, I could do naught else than make a bargain with her.

”Now,” I said at last, after some desultory conversation, ”I want to make a suggestion to you. Do you think that if I gave you a ten-pound note you could forget having met me to-night? Do you think that you could forget having seen me at all?”

”Forget? I don't understand.”

”Well, to put it plainly, I'm going to London, and I have no desire that anybody should know that I'm there,” I explained. ”When I am found to be missing from Denbury, Mrs Heaton will do all in her power to discover me. You are the only person who knows that I've gone to London, and I want you to hold your tongue.”

She smiled again, showing an even row of white teeth.

”I was sent by my mistress to travel by this train and to see where you went,” she said bluntly.

”Exactly as I thought,” I answered. ”Now, you will accept this as a little present, and return to Denbury to-morrow after a fruitless errand--utterly fruitless, you understand?”

She took the ten sovereigns I handed her, and transferred them to her purse, promising to say nothing of having met me.

I gathered from her subsequent conversation that she had been maid to Mrs Heaton ever since her marriage, and that she had acted as confidential servant. Many things she mentioned incidentally were of the greatest interest to me, yet they only served to show how utterly ignorant I was of all the past.

”But why did you disclose your ident.i.ty?” I inquired, when the lights showed that we were entering the London suburbs.

”Because I felt certain that you didn't recognise me,” she laughed; ”and I had no wish to spy upon you, knowing as I do that your life is the reverse of happy.”

”Then you pity me, eh?”

”I scarcely think that is the word that one of my position ought to use,” she answered, with some hesitation. ”Your life has, since your marriage, not been of the happiest, that's certain.”

”And so you have no intention of telling any one where I've gone?” I asked eagerly.

”None in the least, sir. Rest a.s.sured that I shall say nothing--not a single word.”

”I thank you,” I said, and sat back pondering in silence until the train ran into Waterloo, where we parted, she again rea.s.suring me of her intention to keep my secret.

I congratulated myself upon a very narrow escape, and, taking a cab, drove straight to Trafalgar Square. As I crossed Waterloo Bridge the long line of lights on the Embankment presented the same picture as they had ever done. Though six years had pa.s.sed since I had last had knowledge of London, nothing had apparently changed. The red night-glare in the leaden sky was still the same; the same unceasing traffic; the same flas.h.i.+ng of bright dresses and glittering jewels as hansoms pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed in the Strand--just as I had known London by night during all my life.

The gold-braided porter at the _Grand_ handed me out of the cab, and I ascended by the lift to the room allotted to me like a man in a dream.

It hardly seemed possible that I could have been absent in mind from that whirling, fevered world of London for six whole years. I had given a false name in the reception bureau, fearing that those people who called themselves my friends--Heaven save the mark!--might make inquiries and cause my arrest as a wandering lunatic. I had no baggage, and I saw that the hotel-clerk looked upon me with some suspicion.

Indeed, I threw down a couple of sovereigns, well knowing the rules that no person without luggage was taken unless he paid a deposit beforehand.

I laughed bitterly within myself. How strange it was!