Part 9 (2/2)

Anthony Trent flung himself on the gra.s.s at the edge of the pool and lighted his pipe. Lordly salmon were no temptation to him at the moment.

Private William Smith had beaten him so far. Private Smith had looked as innocent as a babe. He had been polite and gracious but had refused to acknowledge any former acquaintance. Again and again in the few minutes Trent had telegraphed to him plainly, ”Well, here I am, the master criminal you were proud to know, what are you going to do?” And every time Private Smith had said, ”I do not know you. I never saw you before.” It was well enough to postpone the conversation until they were alone, but Trent resented the utter indifference of the younger man to his appeal. A man dare only do that who had no fear. That must be the reason. Grenvil had made only general statements in his half confession, statements which could not convict him. He felt he held the whip hand over the master. There would be a different expression on his face when Trent dropped a hint as to the dangers of forging.

At the farm house where he was living Trent had little difficulty in getting side lights on the Grenvil family. He had never heard such disapprobation showered on a single member of any family as was the case with the farmer and his wife when they spoke of Arthur Grenvil.

They said his scandalous life had killed his mother. It was all bad companions.h.i.+p and drink, Mrs. Ba.s.sett the farmer's wife contended. He was all right till he left school to go into the army. He was cruel to animals and false to his friends.

”He doesn't look it,” Trent said slowly.

”The devil gives his own a mask to fool the righteous,” Mrs. Ba.s.sett contended. She was a pious soul. ”I ought to know. I was a nursemaid at the castle before I married John Ba.s.sett.”

Never in all his career as a breaker of laws and an abstractor of the valuable property of others had Trent been so apprehensive as he was in quiet, beautiful Cornwall far from cities. In New York he had schooled himself to look unconcerned at the police he met on every corner. Here there seemed to be no police and yet he looked anxiously at every stranger who pa.s.sed by the moorland farm. He told himself it was the effect of his war hards.h.i.+ps, his wounds and sh.e.l.l shock. But he knew his nerves were steady, his muscles strong as ever and his health magnificent. He was forced to admit that he was on edge because of this meeting with Arthur Grenvil.

”This has got to end,” he said after breakfast next morning, ”I've had enough uncertainty.”

A few minutes later he was on horseback and on his way to Rosecarrel Castle. It might not be easy to see Grenvil in his home surrounded by servants but he would make the attempt. He had no reasonable excuse for infringing the etiquette of the occasion. He had not been invited to call and he knew no common friends of the family. It would be a business call. He would send in his card and say he desired to see Mr. Arthur Grenvil on a matter of importance.

He was within two miles of the castle when he saw the man he had come to see mounted on a chestnut polo pony cantering along and driving a white polo ball over the stretch of firm turf.

Grenvil pulled up as he saw the American.

”Trying to get my eye back,” he said smiling. ”Corking game, polo, ever play it, Mr. Trent?”

”I've had to work too hard,” Trent snapped.

”Much better for you I've no doubt,” said Grenvil idly, ”If one may ask it, what sort of work did you do?”

”You've no idea I suppose?”

Grenvil looked at him mildly.

”How can I have any idea?” he asked.

Anthony Trent from his bigger horse looked down at the man on the polo pony sourly. There was that bland look of irritating innocence that would have convinced any judge and jury. But it did not sway him.

In just such a pleasantly modulated voice, and with no doubt just such an ingratiating smile Private Smith had feared Anthony Trent was dying in very bad company.

”You said you were not able to forget everything. I supposed that my work might be one of the things you still remembered.”

At length Trent was able to observe that Arthur Grenvil looked less confident.

”I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean, Mr. Trent.”

”The name Anthony Trent calls nothing to mind?”

”Sorry,” Grenvil retorted, ”I suppose I ought to know all about you.”

”That's what you said before!” Trent exclaimed.

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