Part 13 (1/2)

Her eyes opened wide, like those of a child who has been promised a very big box of chocolates indeed.

”Can do,” she said, holding out a pretty little hand which flying had in no way roughened or distorted. I took it, and so the bargain was made.

Soon afterwards more guests began to arrive, and the great hall was full of laughing, chattering figures, among whom were several people that I knew. However, I was in no mood for society or small talk and I retired to my own room and sat dreaming before a comfortable fire until Preston came in and told me it was time to dress.

I was ashamed to ask him if the Morses had arrived, but I went downstairs into a large yellow drawing-room half full of people, and looked round eagerly.

Lady Stileman was standing by one of the fireplaces talking to Miss Boynton, and I went up to them. Apparently it was a wonderful year for ”birds,” as partridges, and partridges alone, are called in Norfolk.

They had hatched out much later than usual, hence the waiting until the middle of September, but covies were abnormally large and the young birds already strong upon the wing. Fortunately Lady Stileman did all the talking; I smiled, looked oracular and said ”Quite so” at intervals.

My eye was on the drawing-room door which led out into the hall. Once, twice, it opened, but only to admit strangers to me. The third time, when I made sure I should see her for whom I sought, no one came in but a footman in the dark green livery of the house. He carried a salver, and on it was the orange-colored envelope of a telegram.

With a word of excuse Lady Stileman opened it. She nodded to the man to go and then turned to me and Poppy Boynton.

”Such a disappointment,” she said. ”Mr. Morse and his wonderfully pretty daughter were to have been here, as I think you know. Now he wires to say that business of the utmost importance prevents either him or his daughter coming. Fortunately,” the good lady concluded, ”he doesn't shoot, so that won't throw the guns out. Walter would be furious if that happened.”

Arthur and Pat Moore came into the room at that moment, and Arthur told me, an hour or so afterwards, that I looked as if I had seen a ghost, and that my face was white as paper.

CHAPTER SIX

I must now, in the progress of the story, give a brief account of what I may call ”The week of rumor,” which immediately preceded my disappearance and plunge into the unknown.

I spent a miserable and agitated evening at Cerne Hall, and went early to my room. Arthur and Pat joined me there an hour later and for some time we talked over what the telegram from Morse might mean, until they retired to their own rooms and I was left alone.

I did not sleep a wink--indeed, I made no effort to go to bed, though I took off my clothes and wrapped myself in a dressing-gown. The suspense was almost unbearable, and, failing further news, I determined, at any cost to the shooting plans of my host, to get myself recalled to London by telegram. I felt sure that the whole of my life's happiness was at stake.

The next morning at nine o'clock, just as I was preparing to go down to breakfast, a long wire was brought to me. It was in our own office cipher, which I was trained to read without the key, and it was signed by Julia Dewsbury. The gist of the message was that there were strange rumors all over Fleet Street about the great towers at Richmond. An enormous sensation was gathering like a thunder cloud in the world of news and would shortly burst. Would I come to London at the earliest possible moment?

How I got out of Cerne Hall I hardly remember, but I did, to the blank astonishment of my host; drove to the nearest station, caught a train which got me to Norwich in half an hour and engaged the swiftest car in the city to run me up to London at top speed. Just after lunch I burst into the office of the _Evening Special_.

Williams and Miss Dewsbury were expecting me.

”It's big stuff,” said the acting editor excitedly, ”and we ought to be in it first, considering that we've more definite information than I expect any other paper possesses as yet, though it won't be the case for very long.”

I sat down with hardly a word, and nodded to Miss Dewsbury. Her training was wonderful. She had everything ready in order to acquaint me with the facts in the shortest possible s.p.a.ce of time.

She spoke into the telephone and Miss Easey--”Vera” of our ”Society Gossip”--came in.

”I have found out, Sir Thomas,” she said, ”that Mr. Gideon Morse has canceled all social engagements whatever for himself and his daughter.

Miss Dewsbury tells me that it's not necessary now to say what these were. I will, however, tell you that they extended until the New Year and were of the utmost social importance.”

”Canceled, Miss Easey?”

”Definitely and finally _canceled_, both by letter to the various hosts and hostesses concerned, and by an intimation which is already sent to all the London dailies, for publication to-morrow. The notice came up to my room this morning from our own advertising office, for inclusion in 'Society Notes'--as you know such intimations are printed as news and paid for at a guinea a line.”

”Any reason given, Miss Easey?”

”None whatever in the notices, which are brief almost to curtness.

However, I have been able to see one of the private letters which has been received by my friends, Lord and Lady William Gatehouse, of Banks.