Part 9 (1/2)

That she was a little confused he was certain, and perhaps a trifle fearful that he might make some allusion to the oddity of the circ.u.mstances under which they had first met. The man was almost a hundred feet from her. He was casting and too interested to look at anything but the deep pool in which salmon were wont to lie.

”I was never able to thank you for that, that night at Dereham,” she began, ”but my father had one of his attacks and I had to leave the very next day just before luncheon. I hope you had good sport.”

”Unusually good,” he said. It was a great piece of luck that she still a.s.sumed him to be of the house party. But what was she doing here? When he asked she said, ”We live near here.” She looked around to see her companion coming toward her and the stranger.

”This is my brother,” she said, ”Arthur Grenvil. Arthur this gentleman was staying at Dereham Old Hall when I was there. Mr.?” She looked at him pleadingly, ”I'm so stupid about names.”

The stranger seemed to be looking at her when he answered, but his eyes were upon Arthur Grenvil.

”Anthony Trent,” he said urbanely.

”How do you do,” Grenvil said without betraying any emotion. ”Had any luck?”

”Not yet,” Anthony Trent said still looking hard at him. Things were happening rather more quickly than he liked. Too many discoveries were disconcerting. First this girl was of course Lady Daphne Grenvil. And she had not any other motive in view in abstracting the confession than of helping her renegade brother. Anthony Trent felt himself absurdly pleased to know that. He had thought of her constantly and pitied her because he a.s.sumed her to be under the domination of a handsome heartless scamp like the Honourable Arthur.

It was Grenvil's att.i.tude which puzzled the American. The name had apparently aroused no suspicion. It proved the man was more dangerous than he supposed if he were able to master his emotions with such ease.

As they stood there chatting about flies and the size of the salmon Anthony Trent had time to study Grenvil's appearance. a.s.suredly he differed from the mental picture he had formed of him.

To begin with there seemed nothing vicious about him. He was a very handsome man with small regular features, finely formed nose and engaging blue eyes. Anthony Trent thought of the confession he had seen and remembered the talk in the dug-out. He called to mind the hints that the Alderbrook butler had let drop and the lack of enthusiasm the agent Nicholls had shown in speaking of him. From all accounts Arthur Spencer Jerningham Grenvil should be a very highly polished scoundrel but coa.r.s.ened somewhat from his experiences in the ranks for so many years.

And here he was with a sister he plainly adored, looking with a sort of shy good nature at the stranger.

”It's so jolly to meet another keen fisherman,” he said amiably, ”I know the Camel so well that I can show you the best pools if you'd care about it.”

”That would be very kind of you,” Anthony Trent returned. He did not know what to make of the man he had first known as Private Smith. There might be a mistake and yet, if there had been, why should Lady Daphne have risked disgrace in breaking open a safe for his sake. And the voice, the unmistakable voice, was that of the man to whom he had confided all his dangerous, deadly secrets. ”I haven't fished the river for almost seven years,” the younger man went on.

”My brother has been in the army for more than five years,” the girl said, ”and he hadn't much chance then. He was badly wounded and we are making him well again.”

”I'm being horribly spoiled, Mr. Trent,” Grenvil smiled, ”and I rather like it. Did you get in the big show by any chance?”

”As long as I could be after my country declared war,” Trent said looking at him hard. ”We must exchange experiences.”

”Please don't,” the girl begged, ”Arthur's nerves can't stand it. The doctors say he must live outdoors and forget everything.”

”And are you able to forget--everything?” Trent asked him.

Arthur Grenvil frowned a little. It was as though the memory of something unpleasing had lingered for a moment.

”Most things,” said the other.

”Is it wise?” Trent demanded. This refusing even by a look or a smile to acknowledge that he remembered the memorable talk was disturbing.

”Perhaps not,” Grenvil admitted, ”but wisdom and I never got on very well together.”

The sound of a motor horn broke the silence.

”The car,” said Arthur Grenvil to his sister. ”We have to run away because people are coming over from the barracks to lunch. I hope I shall meet you again Mr. Trent.” He nodded pleasantly. ”Come on Daphne.”

”Goodbye, Mr. Trent,” she said brightly. ”I hope you'll land a monster fish.”