THE VANISHED MESSENGER
 
 With every muscle of his body and neck he strained 
 and strained. 
 
 FRONTISPIECE. See page 318
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 New York 
 
 The Review of Reviews Co. 
 1920
 
 Copyright, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 .Stack 
 
 Annex 
 
 5V/ 
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 There were very few people upon Platform Number 
 Twenty-one of Liverpool Street Station at a quarter 
 to nine on the evening of April 2 possibly because 
 the platform in question is one of the most remote and 
 least used in the great terminus. The station-master, 
 however, was there himself, with an inspector in at- 
 tendance. A dark, thick-set man, wearing a long 
 travelling ulster and a Homburg hat, and carrying in 
 his hand a brown leather dressing-case, across which 
 was painted in black letters the name MR. JOHN P. 
 DUNSTER, was standing a few yards away, smoking 
 a long cigar, and to all appearance absorbed in 
 studying the advertisements which decorated the 
 grimy wall on the other side of the single track. A 
 couple of porters were seated upon a barrow which 
 contained one solitary portmanteau. There were no 
 signs of other passengers, no other luggage. As a 
 matter of fact, according to the time-table, no train 
 was due to leave the station or to arrive at it, on this 
 particular platform, for several hours. 
 
 Down at the other end of the platform the wooden
 
 2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 barrier was thrust back, and a porter with some lug- 
 gage upon a barrow made his noisy approach. He 
 was followed by a tall young man in a grey tweed suit 
 and a straw hat on which were the colours of a famous 
 cricket club. 
 
 The inspector watched them curiously. " Lost his 
 way, I should think," he observed. 
 
 The station-master nodded. " It looks like the 
 young man who missed the boat train," he remarked. 
 " Perhaps he has come to beg a lift." 
 
 The young man in question made steady progress 
 up the platform. His hands were thrust deep into 
 the pockets of his coat, and his forehead was con- 
 tracted in a frown. As he approached more closely, 
 he singled out Mr. John P. Dunster, and motioning 
 his porter to wait, crossed to the edge of the track 
 and addressed him. 
 
 " Can I speak to you for a moment, sir? " 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster turned at once and faced his 
 questioner. He did so without haste with a certain 
 deliberation, in fact yet his eyes were suddenly 
 bright and keen. He was neatly dressed, with the 
 quiet precision which seems as a rule to characterise 
 the travelling American. He was apparently of a 
 little less than middle-age, clean-shaven, broad- 
 shouldered, with every appearance of physical 
 strength. He seemed like a man on wires, a man on 
 the alert, likely to miss nothing. 
 
 " Are you Mr. John P. Dunster? " the youth asked. 
 
 " I carry my visiting-card in my hand, sir," the 
 other replied, swinging his dressing-case around. 
 " My name is John P. Dunster." 
 
 The young man's expression was scarcely ingrati-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 3 
 
 ating. To a natural sullenness was added now the 
 nervous distaste of one who approaches a disagreeable 
 task. 
 
 " I want, if I may, to ask you a favour," he con- 
 tinued. " If you don't feel like granting it, please 
 say no and I'll be off at once. I am on my way to The 
 Hague. I was to have gone by the boat train which 
 left half an hour ago. I had taken a seat, and they 
 assured me that the train would not leave for at least 
 ten minutes, as the mails weren't in. I went down the 
 platform to buy some papers and stood talking for a 
 moment or two with a man whom I know. I suppose 
 I must have been longer than I thought, or they must 
 have been quicker than they expected with the mail- 
 bags. Anyhow, when I came back the train was mov- 
 ing. They would not let me jump in. I could have 
 done it easily, but that fool of an inspector over there 
 held me." 
 
 " They are very strict in this country, I know," 
 Mr. Dunster agreed, without change of expression. 
 " Please go on." 
 
 "I saw you arrive just too late for the train. 
 While I was swearing at the inspector, I heard you 
 speak to the station-master. Since then I have made 
 inquiries. I understand that you have ordered a 
 special train to Harwich." 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster said nothing, only his keen, 
 clear eyes seemed all the time to be questioning this 
 gloomy-looking but apparently harmless young man. 
 
 " I went to the station-master's office," the latter 
 continued, " and tried to persuade them to let me 
 ride in the guard's van of your special, but he made 
 a stupid fuss about it, so I thought I'd better come
 
 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 to you. Can I beg a seat in your compartment, or 
 anywhere in the train, as far as Harwich? " 
 
 Mr. Dunster avoided, for the moment, a direct re- 
 ply. He had the air of a man who, whether reason- 
 ably or unreasonably, disliked the request which had 
 been made to him. 
 
 " You are particularly anxious to cross to-night? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I am," the youth admitted emphatically. " I 
 never ought to have risked missing the train. I am 
 due at The Hague to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster moved his position a little. 
 The light from a rain-splashed gas lamp shone now 
 full upon the face of his suppliant: a boy's face, 
 which would have been pleasant and even handsome 
 but for the discontented mouth, the lowering fore- 
 head, and a shadow in the eyes, as though, boy though 
 he certainly was in years, he had already, at some 
 time or another, looked upon tbe serious things of 
 life. His nervousness, too, was almost grotesque. 
 He had the air of disliking immensely this asking 
 a favour from a stranger. Mr. Dunster appreciated 
 all these things, but there were reasons which made 
 him slow in granting the young man's request. 
 
 " What is the nature of your pressing business at 
 The Hague ? " he asked. 
 
 The youth hesitated. 
 
 . " I am afraid," he said grimly, " that you will not 
 think it of much importance. I am on my way to 
 play in a golf tournament there." 
 
 " A golf tournament at The Hague ! " Mr. Dunster 
 repeated, in a slightly altered tone. " What is your 
 name? "
 
 " Gerald Fentolin." 
 
 Mr. Dunster stood quite still for a moment. He 
 was possessed of a wonderful memory, and he was 
 conscious at that moment of a subtle appeal to it. 
 Fentolin! There was something in the name which 
 seemed to him somehow associated with the things 
 against which he was on guard. He stood with puz- 
 zled frown, reminiscent for several minutes, unsuc- 
 cessful. Then he suddenly smiled, and moving under- 
 neath the gas lamp, shook open an evening paper 
 which he had been carrying. He turned over the 
 pages until he arrived at the sporting items. Here, 
 in almost the first paragraph, he saw the name 
 which had happened to catch his eye a moment or 
 two before: 
 
 GOLF AT THE HAGUE 
 
 Among the entrants for the tournament which com- 
 mences to-morrow, are several well-known English 
 players, including Mr. Barwin, Mr. Parrott, Mr. Hillard 
 and Mr. Gerald Fentolin. 
 
 Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced 
 it in his pocket. He turned towards the young man. 
 
 " So you're a golfer, are you? " 
 
 " I play a bit," was the somewhat indifferent reply. 
 
 Mr. Dunster turned to another part of the paper 
 and pointed to the great black head-lines. 
 
 " Seems a queer thing for a young fellow like you 
 to be worrying about games," he remarked. " I 
 haven't been in this country more than a few hours, 
 but I expected to find all the young men getting 
 ready." 
 
 " Getting ready for what? "
 
 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Why, to fight, of course," Mr. Dunster replied. 
 " Seems pretty clear that there's an expeditionary 
 force being fitted out, according to this evening's 
 paper, somewhere up in the North Sea. The only 
 Englishman I've spoken to on this side was willing to 
 lay me odds that war would be declared within a 
 week." 
 
 The young man's lack of interest was curious. 
 
 " I am not in the army," he said. " It really 
 doesn't affect me." 
 
 Mr. Dunster stared at him. 
 
 " You'll forgive my curiosity," he said, " but say, 
 is there nothing you could get into and fight if this 
 thing came along? " 
 
 " Nothing at all, that I know of," the youth replied 
 coolly. " War is an affair which concerns only the 
 military and naval part of two countries. The civil 
 population " 
 
 " Plays golf, I suppose," Mr. Dunster interrupted. 
 " Young man, I haven't been in England for some 
 years, and you rather take my breath away. All the 
 same, you can come along with me as far as Harwich." 
 
 The young man showed signs of some satisfaction. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, sir," he de- 
 clared. " I promise you I won't be in the way." 
 
 The station-master, who had been looking through 
 a little pile of telegrams brought to him by a clerk 
 from his office, now turned towards them. His ex- 
 pression was a little grave. 
 
 " Your special will be backing down directly, sir," 
 he announced, " but I am sorry to say that we hear 
 very bad accounts of the line. They say that this is 
 only the fag-end of the storm that we are getting
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 7 
 
 here, and that it's been raging for nearly twenty- 
 four hours on the east coast. I doubt whether the 
 Harwich boat will be able to put off." 
 
 " We must take our chance about that," Dunster 
 remarked. " If the mail boat doesn't run, I presume 
 there will be something else we can charter." 
 
 The station-master looked the curiosity which he 
 did not actually express in words. 
 
 " Money will buy most things, nowadays, sir," he 
 observed, " but if it isn't fit for our mail boat, it cer- 
 tainly isn't fit for anything else that can come into 
 Harwich Harbour. However, you'll hear what they 
 say when you get there." 
 
 Mr. Dunster nodded and relapsed into a taciturn- 
 ity which was obviously one of his peculiarities. The 
 young man strolled down the platform, and catching 
 up with the inspector, touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 " Do you know who the fellow is ? " he asked curi- 
 ously. " It's awfully decent of him to let me go with 
 him, but he didn't seem very keen about it." 
 
 The inspector shook his head. 
 
 " No idea, sir," he replied. " He drove up just 
 two minutes after the train had gone, came straight 
 into the office and ordered a special. Paid for it, 
 too, in Bank of England notes before he went out. 
 I fancy he's an American, and he gave his name as 
 John P. Dunster." 
 
 The young man paused to light a cigarette. 
 
 " If he's an American, I suppose that accounts for 
 it," he observed. " He must be in a precious hurry 
 to get somewhere, though." 
 
 " A night like this, too ! " the inspector remarked, 
 with a shiver. " I wouldn't leave London myself un-
 
 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 less I had to. They say there's a tremendous storm 
 blowing on the east coast. Here comes the train, sir 
 just one saloon and the guard's van." 
 
 The little train backed slowly along the platform 
 side. The engine was splashed with mud and soak- 
 ing wet. The faces of the engine-driver and his com- 
 panion shone from the dripping rain. The station- 
 master held open the door of the saloon. 
 
 " You've a rough journey before you, sir," he said. 
 " You'll catch the boat all right, though if it goes. 
 The mail train was very heavy to-night. You 
 should catch her up this side of Colchester." 
 Mr. Dunster nodded. 
 
 " I am taking this young gentleman with me," he 
 announced shortly. " It seems that he, too, missed 
 the train. I am much obliged to you, station-master, 
 for your attention. Good night ! " 
 
 They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once 
 more let down the window. 
 
 " By the way," he said, " as it is such a wild night, 
 you will oblige me very much if you will tell the en- 
 gine-driver that there will be a five pound note for 
 himself and his companion if we catch the mail. In- 
 spector ! " 
 
 The inspector touched his hat. The station-master 
 had turned discreetly away. He had been an in- 
 spector himself once, and sovereigns had been useful 
 to him, too. Then the train glided from the platform 
 side, plunged with a scream through a succession of 
 black tunnels, and with rapidly increasing speed faced 
 the storm.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The young man sat on one side of the saloon and 
 Mr. John P. Dunster on the other. Although both of 
 them were provided with a certain amount of rail- 
 way literature, neither of them made any pretence at 
 reading. The older man, with his feet upon the op- 
 posite seat and his arms folded, was looking pensively 
 through the rain-splashed window-pane into the im- 
 penetrable darkness. The young man, although he 
 could not ignore his companion's unsociable instincts, 
 was fidgety. 
 
 " There will be some floods out to-morrow," he 
 remarked. 
 
 Mr. Dunster turned his head and looked across the 
 saloon. There was something in the deliberate man- 
 ner of his doing so, and his hesitation before he spoke, 
 which seemed intended to further impress upon the 
 young man the fact that he was not disposed for 
 conversation. 
 
 " Very likely," was his sole reply. 
 
 Gerald Fentolin sighed as though he regretted his 
 companion's taciturnity and a few minutes later 
 strolled to the farther end of the saloon. He spent 
 some time trying to peer through the streaming win- 
 dow into the darkness. He chatted for a few minutes 
 with the guard, who was, however, in a bad temper 
 at having had to turn out and who found little to say. 
 Then he took one of his golf clubs from the bag and
 
 io THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 indulged in several half swings. Finally he stretched 
 himself out upon one of the seats and closed his eyes. 
 
 " May as well try to get a nap," he yawned. 
 " There won't be much chance on the steamer, if it 
 blows like this." 
 
 Mr. Dunster said nothing. His face was set, his 
 eyes were looking somewhere beyond the confines of 
 the saloon in which he was seated. So they travelled 
 for over an hour. The young man seemed to be doz- 
 ing in earnest when, with a succession of jerks, the 
 train rapidly slackened speed. Mr. Dunster let down 
 the window. The interior of the carriage was at 
 once thrown into confusion. A couple of newspapers 
 were caught up and whirled around, a torrent of rain 
 beat in. Mr. Dunster rapidly closed the window and 
 rang the bell. The guard came in after a moment 
 or two. His clothes were shiny from the wet; rain- 
 drops hung from his beard. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " Mr. Dunster demanded. 
 " Why are we waiting here ? " 
 
 " There's a block on the line somewhere, sir," the 
 man replied. " Can't tell where exactly. The sig- 
 nals are against us ; that's all we know at present." 
 
 They crawled on again in about ten, minutes, 
 stopped, and resumed their progress at an even slower 
 rate. Mr. Dunster once more summoned the guard. 
 
 " Why are we travelling like this ? " he asked im- 
 patiently. " We shall never catch the boat." 
 
 " We shall catch the boat all right if it runs, sir," 
 the man assured him. " The mail is only a mile or 
 two ahead of us ; that's one reason why we have to 
 go so slowly. Then the water is right over the line 
 where we are now, and we can't get any news at all
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER n 
 
 from the other side of Ipswich. If it goes on like 
 this, some of the bridges will be down; that's vhat 
 I'm afraid of." 
 
 Mr. Dunster frowned. For the first time he showed 
 some signs of uneasiness. 
 
 " Perhaps," he muttered, half to himself, " a motor- 
 car would have been better." 
 
 " Not on your life," his young companion inter- 
 vened. " All the roads to the coast here cross no 
 end of small bridges much weaker affairs than the 
 railway bridges. I bet there are some of those down 
 already. Besides, you wouldn't be able to see where 
 you were going, on a night like this." 
 
 " There appears to be a chance," Mr. Dunster re- 
 marked drily, " that you will have to scratch for your 
 competition to-morrow." 
 
 " Also," the young man observed, " that you will 
 have taken this special train for nothing. I can't 
 fancy the Harwich boat going out a night like this." 
 
 Mr. Dunster relapsed into stony but anxious silence. 
 The train continued its erratic progress, sometimes 
 stopping altogether for a time, with whistle blowing 
 repeatedly ; sometimes creeping along the metals as 
 though feeling its way to safety. At last, after a 
 somewhat prolonged wait, the guard, whose hoarse 
 voice they had heard on the platform of the small sta- 
 tion in which they were standing, entered the carriage. 
 With him came a gust of wind, once more sending the 
 papers flying around the compartment. The rain 
 dripped from his clothes on to the carpet. He had 
 lost his hat, his hair was tossed with the wind, his 
 face was bleeding from a slight wound on the temple. 
 
 " The boat train's just ahead of us, sir," he an-
 
 12 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 nounced. " She can't get on any better than we can. 
 We've just heard that there's a bridge down on the 
 line between Ipswich and Harwich." 
 
 "What are we going to do, then? " Mr. Dunster 
 demanded. 
 
 " That's just what I've come to ask you, sir," the 
 guard replied. " The mail's going slowly on as far 
 as Ipswich. I fancy they'll lie by there until the 
 morning. The best thing that I can see is, if you're 
 agreeable, to take you back to London. We can 
 very likely do that all right, if we start at once." 
 
 Mr. Dunster, ignoring the man's suggestion, drew 
 from one of the voluminous pockets of his ulster a 
 small map. He spread it open upon the table before 
 him and studied it attentively. 
 
 " If I cannot get to Harwich," he asked, " is there 
 any possibility of keeping straight on and reaching 
 Yarmouth?" 
 
 The guard hesitated. 
 
 " We haven't heard anything about the line from 
 Ipswich to Norwich, sir," he replied, " but we can't 
 very well change our course without definite instruc- 
 tions." 
 
 " Your definite instructions," Mr. Dunster reminded 
 him drily, " were to take me to Harwich. You have 
 been forced to depart from them. I see no harm 
 in your adopting any suggestions I may have to make 
 concerning our altered destination. I will pay the 
 extra mileage, naturally." 
 
 " How far did you wish to go, sir? " the guard en- 
 quired. 
 
 " To Yarmouth," Mr. Dunster replied firmly. " If 
 there are bridges down, and communkation with Har-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 13 
 
 wich is blocked, Yarmouth would suit me better than 
 anywhere." 
 
 The guard shook his head. 
 
 " I couldn't go on that way, sir, without instruc- 
 tions." 
 
 " Is there a telegraph office at this station? " Mr- 
 Dunster inquired. 
 
 " We can speak anywhere on the line," the guard 
 replied. 
 
 " Then wire to the station-master at Liverpool 
 Street," Mr. Dunster instructed. " You can get a 
 reply from him in the course of a few minutes. Ex- 
 plain the situation and tell him what my wishes are." 
 
 The guard hesitated. 
 
 " It's a goodish way from here to Norwich," he 
 observed, " and for all we know " 
 
 " When we left Liverpool Street Station," Mr. 
 Dunster interrupted, " I promised five pounds each 
 to you, the engine-driver, and his mate. That five 
 pounds shall be made twenty-five if you succeed in 
 getting me to the coast. Do your best for me." 
 
 The guard raised his hat and departed without an- 
 other word. 
 
 " It will probably suit you better," Mr. Dunster 
 continued, turning to his companion, " to leave me at 
 Ipswich and join the mail." 
 
 The latter shook his head. 
 
 " I don't see that there's any chance, anyway, of 
 my getting over in time now," he remarked. " If 
 you'll take me on with you as far as Norwich, I can 
 go quietly home from there." 
 
 " You live in this part of the world, then ? " Mr. 
 Dunster asked.
 
 j 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 The young man assented. Again there was a cer- 
 tain amount of hesitation in his manner. 
 
 " I live some distance the other side of Norwich," 
 he said. " I don't want to sponge on you too much," 
 he went on, " but if you're really going to stick 
 it out and try and get there, I'd like to go on, too. 
 I am afraid I can't offer to share the expense, but 
 I'd work my passage if there was anything to be 
 done." 
 
 Mr. Dunster drummed for a moment upon the table 
 with his fingers. All the time the young man had been 
 speaking, his eyes had been studying his face. He 
 turned now once more to his map. 
 
 " It was my idea," he said, " to hire a steam trawler 
 from Yarmouth. If I do so, you can, if you wish, ac- 
 company me so far as the port at which we may land 
 in Holland. On the other hand, to be perfectly frank 
 with you, I should prefer to go alone. There will be, 
 no doubt, a certain amount of risk in crossing to- 
 night. My own business is of importance. A golf 
 tournament, however, is scarcely worth risking your 
 life for, is it? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know about that ! " the young map 
 replied grimly. " I fancy I should rather like it 
 Let's see whether we can get on to Norwich, any- 
 how, shall we? We may find that there are bridges 
 down on that line." 
 
 They relapsed once more into silence. Presently 
 the guard reappeared. 
 
 " Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if pos- 
 sible, sir," he announced, " and to collect the mileage 
 at our destination." 
 
 " That will be quite satisfactory," Mr. Dunster
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 15 
 
 agreed. " Let us be off, then, as soon as possible." 
 
 Presently they crawled on. They passed the boat 
 train in Ipswich Station, where they stayed for a 
 few moments. Mr. Dunster bought wine and sand- 
 wiches, and his companion followed his example. 
 Then they continued their journey. An hour or 
 more passed; the storm showed no signs of abate- 
 ment. Their speed now rarely exceeded ten or fif- 
 teen miles an hour. Mr. Dunster smoked all the 
 time, occasionally rubbing the window-pane and try- 
 ing to look out. Gerald Fentolin slept fitfully. 
 
 " Have you any idea where we are? " Mr. Dunster 
 asked once. 
 
 The boy cautiously let down the window a little 
 way. With the noise of the storm came another 
 sound, to which he listened for a moment with puz- 
 zled face: a dull, rumbling sound like the falling of 
 water. He closed the window, breathless. 
 
 " I don't think we are v far from Norwich*. We 
 passed Forncett, anyhow, some time ago." 
 
 " Still raining? 
 
 " In torrents ! I can't see a yard ahead of me. 
 I bet we get some floods after this. I expect they 
 are out now, if one could only see." 
 
 They crept on. Suddenly, above the storm, they 
 heard what sounded at first like the booming of a 
 gun, and then a shrill whistle from some distance 
 ahead. They felt the jerk as their brakes were hast- 
 ily applied, the swaying of the little train, and then 
 the crunching of earth beneath them, the roar of es- 
 caping steam as their engine ploughed its way on into 
 the road bed. 
 
 " Off the rails ! " the boy cried, springing to his
 
 16 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 feet. " Hold on tightly, sir. I'd keep away from 
 the window." 
 
 The carriage swayed and rocked. Suddenly a tele- 
 graph post seemed to come crashing through the 
 window and the polished mahogany panels. The 
 young man escaped it by leaping to one side. It 
 caught Mr. Dunster, who had just risen to his feet, 
 upon the forehead. There was a crash all around of 
 splitting glass, a further shock. They were both 
 thrown off their feet. The light was suddenly ex- 
 tinguished. With the crashing of glass, the splitting 
 of timber a hideous, tearing sound the wrecked 
 saloon, dragging the engine half-way over with it, 
 slipped down a low embankment and lay on its side, 
 what remained of it, in a field of turnips.
 
 CHAPTER in 
 
 As the young man staggered to his feet, he had 
 somehow a sense of detachment, as though he were 
 commencing a new life, or had suddenly come into a 
 new existence. Yet his immediate surroundings were 
 charged with ugly reminiscences. Through a great 
 gap in the ruined side of the saloon the rain was 
 tearing in. As he stood up, his head caught the 
 fragments of the roof. He was able to push back 
 the wreckage with ease and step out. For a moment 
 he reeled, as he met the violence of the storm. Then, 
 clutching hold of the side of the wreck, he steadied 
 himself. A light was moving back and forth, close 
 at hand. He cried out weakly : " Hullo ! " 
 
 A man carrying a lantern, bent double as he made 
 his way against the wind, crawled up to them. He 
 was a porter from the station close at hand. 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed. " Any one alive here ? " 
 
 "I'm all right," Gerald muttered, "at least, I 
 suppose I am. What's it all what's it all about ? 
 We've had an accident." 
 
 The porter caught hold of a piece of the wreckage 
 with which to steady himself. 
 
 " Your train ran right into three feet of water," 
 he answered. " The rails had gone torn up. The 
 telegraph line's down." 
 
 " Why didn't you stop the train ? " 
 
 " We were doing all we could," the man retorted
 
 i8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 gloomily. " We weren't expecting anything else 
 through to-night. We'd a man along the line with 
 a lantern, but he's just been found blown over the 
 embankment, with his head in a pool of water. Any 
 one else in your carriage? " 
 
 " One gentleman travelling with me," Gerald an- 
 swered. " We'd better try to get him out. What 
 about the guard and engine-driver? " 
 
 " The engine-driver and stoker are both alive," 
 the porter told him. " I came across them before I 
 saw you. They're both knocked sort of sillylike, but 
 they aren't much hurt. The guard's stone dead." 
 
 " Where are we ? " 
 
 " A few hundred yards from Wymondham. Let's 
 have a look for the other gentleman." 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster was lying quite still, his 
 right leg doubled up, and a huge block of telegraph 
 post, which the saloon had carried with it in its fall, 
 still pressing against his forehead. He groaned as 
 they dragged him out and laid him down upon a 
 cushion in the shelter of the wreckage. 
 
 " He's alive all right," the porter remarked. 
 ** There's a doctor on the way. Let's cover him up 
 quick and wait." 
 
 " Can't we carry him to shelter of some sort ? " 
 Gerald proposed. 
 
 The man shook his head. Speech of any sort was 
 difficult. Even with his lips close to the other's ears, 
 he had almost to shout. 
 
 " Couldn't be done," he replied. " It's all one can 
 do to walk alone when, you get out in the middle of 
 the field, away from the shelter of the embankment 
 here. There's bits of trees flying all down the lane.
 
 Never was such a night ! Folks is fair afraid of the 
 morning to see what's happened. There's a mill 
 blown right over on its side in the next field, and the 
 man in charge of it lying dead. This poor chap's 
 bad enough." 
 
 Gerald, on all fours, had crept back into the com- 
 partment. The bottle of wine was smashed into 
 atoms. He came out, dragging the small dressing- 
 case which his companion had kept on the table be- 
 fore him. One side of it was dented in, but the lock, 
 which was of great strength, still held. 
 
 " Perhaps there's a flask somewhere in this dressing- 
 case," Gerald said. " Lend me a knife." 
 
 Strong though it had been, the lock was already 
 almost torn out from its foundation. They forced 
 the spring and opened it. The porter turned his lan- 
 tern on the widening space. Just as Gerald was 
 raising the lid very slowly to save the contents from 
 being scattered by the wind, the man turned his head 
 to answer an approaching hail. Gerald raised the 
 lid a little higher and suddenly closed it with a bang. 
 
 " There's folks coming at last ! " the porter ex- 
 claimed, turning around excitedly. " They've been 
 a time and no mistake. The village isn't a quarter 
 of a mile away. Did you find a flask, sir? " 
 
 Gerald made no answer. The dressing-case once 
 more was closed, and his hand pressed upon the lid. 
 The porter turned the light upon his face and whis- 
 tled softly. 
 
 " You're about done yourself, sir," he remarked. 
 " Hold up." 
 
 He caught the young man in his arms. There was 
 another roar in Gerald's ears besides the roar of the
 
 20 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 wind. He had never fainted in his life, but the feel- 
 ing was upon him now a deadly sickness, a sway- 
 ing of the earth. The porter suddenly gave a little 
 cry. 
 
 " If I'm not a born idiot ! " he exclaimed, drawing 
 a bottle from the pocket of his coat with his disen- 
 gaged hand. " There's whisky here. I was taking 
 it home to the missis for her rheumatism. Now % 
 then." 
 
 He drew the cork from the bottle with his teeth 
 and forced some of the liquid between the lips of the 
 young man. The voices now were coming nearer 
 and nearer. Gerald made a desperate effort. 
 
 " I am all right," he declared. " Let's look after 
 him." 
 
 They groped their way towards the unconscious 
 man, Gerald still gripping the dressing-case with both 
 hands. There were no signs of any change in his con- 
 dition, but he was still breathing heavily. Then they 
 heard a shout behind, almost in their ears. The por- 
 ter staggered to his feet. 
 
 " It's all right now, sir ! " he exclaimed. " They've 
 brought blankets and a stretcher and brandy. Here's 
 a doctor, sir." 
 
 A powerful-looking man, hatless, and wrapped in 
 a great ulster, moved towards them. 
 
 " How many are there of you? " he asked, as he 
 bent over Mr. Dunster. 
 
 " Only we two," Gerald replied. " Is my friend 
 badly hurt? " 
 
 " Concussion," the doctor announced. " We'll take 
 him to the village. What about you* yaung man?" 
 Your face is bleeding, I see."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 21 
 
 " Just a cut," Gerald faltered ; " nothing else." 
 
 " Lucky chap," the doctor remarked. " Let's get 
 him to shelter of some sort. Come along. There's 
 an inn at the corner of the lane there." 
 
 They all staggered along, Gerald still clutching the 
 dressing-case, and supported on the other side by an 
 excited and somewhat incoherent villager. 
 
 " Such a storm as never was," the latter volun- 
 teered. " The telegraph wires are all down for miles 
 and miles. There won't be no trains running along 
 this line come many a week, and as for trees why, 
 it's as though some one had been playing ninepins 
 in Squire Fellowes's park. When the morning do 
 come, for sure there will be things to be seen. This 
 way, sir. Be careful of the gate." 
 
 They staggered along down the lane, climbing once 
 over a tree which lay across the lane and far into the 
 adjoining field. Soon they were joined by more of 
 the villagers, roused from their beds by rumours of 
 terrible happenings. The little, single-storey, ivy- 
 covered inn was all lit up and the door held firmly 
 open. They passed through the narrow entrance 
 and into the stone-flagged barroom, where the men laid 
 down their stretcher. As many of the villagers as 
 could crowd in filled the passage. Gerald sank into 
 a chair. The sudden absence of wind was almost dis- 
 concerting. He felt himself once more in danger of 
 fainting. He was only vaguely conscious of drinking 
 hot milk, poured from a jug by a red- faced and sym- 
 pathetic woman. Its restorative effect, however, was 
 immediate and wonderful. The mist cleared from be- 
 fore his eyes, his brain began to work. Always in the 
 background the horror and the shame were there, the
 
 22 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 shame which kept his hand pressed with unnatural 
 strength upon the broken lock of that dressing-case. 
 He sat a little apart from the others and listened. 
 Above the confused murmur of voices he could hear 
 the doctor's comment and brief orders, as he rose to 
 his feet after examining the unconscious man. 
 
 " An ordinary concussion," he declared. " I must 
 get round and see the engine-driver now. They have 
 got him in a shed by the embankment. I'll call in 
 again later on. Let's have one more look at you, 
 young man." 
 
 He glanced at the cut on Gerald's forehead, noted 
 the access of colour in his cheeks, and nodded. 
 
 " Born to be hanged, you were," he pronounced. 
 " You've had a marvellous escape. I'll be in again 
 presently. No need to worry about your friend. 
 He looks as though he'd got a mighty constitution. 
 Light my lantern, Brown. Two of you had better 
 come with me to the shed. It's no night for a man 
 to be wandering about alone." 
 
 He departed, and many of the villagers with him. 
 The landlady sat down and began to weep. 
 
 " Such a night ! Such a night ! " she exclaimed, 
 wringing her hands. " And there's the doctor talks 
 about putting the poor gentleman to bed ! Why, the 
 roof's off the back part of the house, and not a bed- 
 room in the place but mine and John's, and the rain 
 coming in there in torrents. Such a night ! It's the 
 judgment of the Lord upon us ! That's what it is 
 the judgment of the Lord! " 
 
 " Judgment of the fiddlesticks ! " her husband 
 growled. " Can't you light the fire, woman ? What's 
 the good of sitting there whining? "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 23 
 
 " Light the fire," she repeated bitterly, " and the 
 chimney lying out in the road ! Do you want to suf- 
 focate us all, or is the beer still in your head? It's 
 your evil doings, Richard Budden, and others like 
 you, that have brought this upon us. If Mr. Wem- 
 bley would but come in and pray ! " 
 
 Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his 
 shirt and trousers, his hair rough, his braces hanging 
 down behind. 
 
 " Come in and pray ! " he repeated. " Not he ! 
 Not Mr. Wembley! He's safe tucked up in his bed, 
 shivering with fear, I'll bet you. He's not getting 
 his feet wet to save a body or lend a hand here. Souls 
 are his job. You let the preacher alone, mother, and 
 tell us what we're going to do with this gentleman." 
 
 " The Lord only knows ! " she cried, wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 " Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near? " 
 Gerald asked. 
 
 " There's motor-cars, right enough," the innkeeper 
 replied, " but not many as would be fools enough to 
 take one out. You couldn't see the road, and I doubt 
 if one of them plaguey things would stir in this 
 storm." 
 
 " Such nonsense as you talk, Richard Budden ! " his 
 wife exclaimed sharply. " It's twenty minutes past 
 three of the clock, and there's light coming on us 
 fast. If so be as the young gentleman knows folks 
 round about here, or happens to live nigh, why 
 shouldn't he take one of them motor-cars and get 
 away to some decent place? It'll be better for the 
 poor gentleman than lying here in a house smitten by 
 the Lord."
 
 2 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Gerald rose stiffly to his feet. An idea was form' 
 ing in his brain. His eyes were bright. He looked 
 at the body of John Dunster upon the floor, and felt 
 once more in his pocket. 
 
 " How far off is the garage? " he asked. 
 
 " It's right across the way," the innkeeper replied, 
 " a speculation of Neighbour Martin's, and a foolish 
 one it do seem to me. He's two cars there, and one 
 he lets to the Government for delivering the 
 mails." 
 
 Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sover- 
 eign. 
 
 " Give this," he said, " to any man you can find 
 who will go across there and bring me a car the 
 most powerful they've got, if there's any difference. 
 Tell them I'll pay well. This my friend will be 
 much better at home with me than in a strange place 
 when he comes to his senses." 
 
 " It's sound common sense," the woman declared. 
 " Be off with you, Richard." 
 
 The man was looking at the coin covetously, but 
 his wife pushed him away. 
 
 " It's not a sovereign you'll be taking from the 
 gentleman for a little errand like that," she insisted 
 sharply. " He shall pay us for what he's had when 
 he goes, and welcome, and if so be that he's willing 
 to make it a sovereign, to include the milk and the 
 brandy and the confusion we've been put to this night, 
 well and good. It's a heavy reckoning, maybe, but 
 the night calls for it. We'll see about that after- 
 wards. Get along with you, I say, Richard." 
 
 " I'll be wet through," the man muttered. 
 
 " And serve you right ! " the woman exclaimed.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 25 
 
 " If there's a man in this village to-night whose 
 clothes are dry, it's a thing for him to be ashamed 
 of." 
 
 The innkeeper reluctantly departed. They heard 
 the roar of the wind as the door was opened and 
 closed. The woman poured out another glass of milk 
 and brought it to Gerald. 
 
 " A godless man, mine," she said grimly. " If so 
 happen as Mr. Wembley had come to these parts years 
 ago, I'd have seen myself in my grave before I'd have 
 married a publican. But it's too late now. We're 
 mostly too late about the things that count in this 
 world. So it's your friend that's been stricken down, 
 young man. A well-living man, I hope? " 
 
 Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the 
 milk, however. He felt that he might need his 
 strength. 
 
 " What train might you have been on ? " the woman 
 continued. " There's none due on this line that we 
 knew of. David Bass, the station-master, was here 
 but two hours ago and said he'd finished for the night, 
 and praised the Lord for that. The goods trains 
 had all been stopped at Ipswich, and the first passen- 
 ger train was not due till six o'clock." 
 
 Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weari- 
 ness. 
 
 " I don't know," he replied. " I don't remember 
 anything about it. We were hours late, I think." 
 
 The woman was looking down at the unconscious 
 man. Gerald rose slowly to his feet and stood by her 
 side. The face of Mr. John P. Dunster, even in un- 
 consciousness, had something in it of strength and 
 purpose. The shape of his head, the squareness of
 
 26 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 his jaws, the straightness of his thick lips, all seemed 
 to speak of a hard and inflexible disposition. His 
 hair was coal black, coarse, and without the slightest 
 sprinkling of grey. He had the neck and throat of a 
 fighter. But for that single, livid, blue mark across 
 his forehead, he carried with him no signs of his acci- 
 dent. He was a little inclined to be stout. There 
 was a heavy gold chain stretched across his waist- 
 coat. From where he lay, the shining handle of his 
 revolver protruded from his hip pocket. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " the woman muttered, as she looked 
 down. " What does he carry a thing like that for 
 in a peaceful country, too ! " 
 
 " It was just an idea of his," Gerald answered. 
 " We were going abroad in a day or two. He was al- 
 ways nervous. If you like, I'll take it away." 
 
 He stooped down and withdrew it from the uncon- 
 scious man's pocket. He started as he discovered that 
 it was loaded in every chamber. 
 
 " I can't bear the sight of them things," the woman 
 declared. " It's the men of evil ways, who've no 
 trust in the Lord, who need that sort of protec- 
 tion." 
 
 They heard the door pushed open, the howl of wind 
 down the passage, and the beating of rain upon 
 the stone flags. Then it was softly closed again. 
 The landlord staggered into the room, followed by a 
 young man. 
 
 " This 'ere is Mr. Martin's chaffer," he announced. 
 " You can tell him what you want yerself." 
 
 Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the lew- 
 comer. 
 
 " I want to go to the other side of Holt," he said,
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 27 
 
 " and get my friend get this gentleman away from 
 here get him home, if possible. Can you take 
 me?" 
 
 The chauffeur looked doubtful. 
 
 " I'm afraid of the roads, sir," he replied. 
 " There's talk about many bridges down, and trees, 
 and there's floods out everywhere. There's half a 
 foot of water, even, across the village street now. 
 I'm afraid we shouldn't get very far." 
 
 " Look here," Gerald begged eagerly, " let's make 
 a shot at it. I'll pay you double the hire of the car, 
 and I'll be responsible for any damage. I want to 
 get out of this beastly place. Let's get somewhere, 
 at any rate, towards a civilised country. I'll see 
 you don't lose anything. I'll give you a five pound 
 note for yourself if we get as far as Holt." 
 
 " I'm on," the young man agreed shortly. " It's 
 an open car, you know." 
 
 " It doesn't matter," Gerald replied. " I can 
 stick it in front with you, and we can cover him 
 up in the tonneau." 
 
 " You'll wait until the doctor comes back ? " the 
 landlord asked. 
 
 " And why should they ? " his wife interposed 
 sharply. " Them doctors are all the same. He'll 
 try and keep the poor gentlemari here for the sake 
 of a few extra guineas, and a miserable place for 
 him to open his eyes upon, even if the rest of the roof 
 holds, which for my part I'm beginning to doubt. 
 They'd have to move him from here with the day- 
 light, anyhow. He can't lie in the bar parlour all 
 day, can he ? " 
 
 " It don't seem right, somehow," the man com-
 
 28 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 plained doggedly. " The doctor didn't say anything 
 about having him moved." 
 
 " You get the car," Gerald ordered the young man. 
 " I'll take the whole responsibility." 
 
 The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put 
 a couple of sovereigns upon the mantelpiece. 
 
 " My friend is a man of somewhat peculiar tem- 
 perament," he said quietly. " If he finds himself at 
 home in a comfortable room when he comes to his 
 senses, I am quite sure that he will have a better 
 chance of recovery. He cannot possibly be made 
 comfortable here, and he will feel the shock of what 
 has happened all the more if he finds himself still in 
 the neighbourhood when he opens his eyes. If there is 
 any change in his condition, we can easily stop some- 
 where on the way." 
 
 The woman pocketed the two sovereigns. 
 
 " That's common sense, sir," she agreed heartily, 
 " and I'm sure we are very much obliged to you. If 
 we had a decent room, and a roof above it, you'd be 
 heartily welcome, but as it is, this is no place for 
 a sick man, and those that say different don't know 
 what they are talking about. That's a real careful 
 young man who's going to take you along in the 
 motor-car. He'll get you there safe, if any one will." 
 
 " What I say is," her husband protested sullenly, 
 " that we ought to wait for the doctor's orders. 
 I'm against seeing a poor body like that jolted across 
 the country in an open motor-car, in his state. I'm 
 not sure that it's for his good." 
 
 " And what business is it of yours, I should like to 
 know ? " the woman demanded sharply. " You get 
 up-stairs and begin moving the furniture from where
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 29 
 
 the rain's coming sopping in. And if so be you can 
 remember while you do it that this is a judgment 
 that's come upon us, why, so much the better. We 
 are evil-doers, all of us, though them as likes the easy 
 ways generally manage to forget it." 
 
 The man retreated silently. The woman sat down 
 upon a stool and waited. Gerald sat opposite to her, 
 the battered dressing-case upon his knees. Between 
 them was stretched the body of the unconscious man. 
 
 " Are you used to prayer, young sir? " the woman 
 asked. 
 
 Gerald shook his head, and the woman did not 
 pursue the subject. Only once her eyes were half 
 closed and her words drifted across the room. 
 
 " The Lord have mercy on this man, a sinner ! "
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 " My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it ! " 
 
 Gerald turned towards the chauffeur by whose side 
 he was seated a little stiffly, for his limbs were numbed 
 with the cold and exhaustion. The morning had 
 broken with a grey and uncertain light. A vapor- 
 ous veil of mist seemed to have taken the place, of the 
 darkness. Even from the top of the hill where the 
 car had come to a standstill, there was little to be 
 seen. 
 
 " We must have come forty miles already," the 
 chauffeur continued, " what with going out of our 
 way all the time because of the broken bridges. 
 I'm pretty well frozen through, and as for him," 
 he added, jerking his thumb across his shoulder, " it 
 seems to me you're taking a bit of a risk." 
 
 " The doctor said he would remain in exactly the 
 same condition for twenty-four hours," Gerald de- 
 clared. 
 
 " Yes, but he didn't say anything about shaking 
 him up over forty miles of rough road," the other 
 protested. " You'll excuse me, sir," he continued, 
 in a slightly changed tone ; " it isn't my business, of 
 course, but I'm fairly done. It don't seem reasonable 
 to stick at it like this. There's Holt village not a 
 mile away, and a comfortable inn and a fire waiting. 
 I thought that was as far as you wanted to come. 
 We might lie up there for a few hours, at any rate."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 31 
 
 His passenger slipped down from his place, .and, 
 lifting the rug, peered into the tonneau of the car, 
 over which they had tied a hood. To all appear- 
 ance, the condition of the man who lay there was 
 unchanged. There was a slightly added blueness 
 about the lips but his breathing was still perceptible. 
 It seemed even a little stronger. Gerald resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 " It isn't worth while to stay at Holt," he said 
 quietly. " We are scarcely seven miles from home 
 now. Sit still for a few minutes and get your 
 wind." 
 
 " Only seven miles," the chauffeur repeated more 
 cheerfully. " That's something, anyway." 
 
 " And all downhill." 
 
 " Towards the sea, then ? " 
 
 " Straight to the sea," Gerald told him. " The 
 place we are making for is St. David's Hall, near 
 Salthouse." 
 
 The chauffeur seemed a little startled. 
 
 "Why, that's Squire Fentolin's house!" 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 " That is where we are going. You follow this 
 road almost straight ahead." 
 
 The chauffeur slipped in the clutch. 
 
 "Oh, I know the way now, -si*, right enough!" 
 he exclaimed. " There's Salthouse marsh to cross, 
 though. I don't know about that." 
 
 " We shall manage that all right," Gerald de- 
 clared. " We've more light now, too." 
 
 They both looked around. During the last few 
 minutes the late morning seemed to have forced its 
 way through the clouds. They had a dim, phan-
 
 32 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 tasmagoric view of the stricken country : a watery 
 plain, with here and there great patches of fields, 
 submerged to the hedges, and houses standing out 
 amidst the waste of waters like toy dwellings. There 
 were whole plantations of uprooted trees. Close to 
 the road, on their left, was a roofless house, and a 
 family of children crying underneath a tarpaulin 
 shelter. As they crept on, the wind came to them 
 with a brackish flavour, salt with the sea. The chauf- 
 feur was gazing ahead doubtfully. 
 
 " I don't like the look of the marsh," he grumbled. 
 " Can't see the road at all. However, here goes." 
 
 " Another half-hour," Gerald assured him encour- 
 agingly, " and we shall be at St. David's Hall. You 
 can have as much rest as you like then." 
 
 They were facing the wind now, and conversation 
 became impossible. Twice they had to pull up sharp 
 and make a considerable detour, once on account of 
 a fallen tree which blocked the road, and another 
 time because of the yawning gap where a bridge had 
 fallen away. Gerald, however, knew every inch of 
 the country they were in and was able to give the 
 necessary directions. They began to meet farm wag- 
 ons now, full of people who had been driven from their 
 homes. Warnings and information as to the state of 
 the roads were shouted to them continually. Pres- 
 ently they came to the last steep descent, and emerged 
 from the devastated fragment of a wood almost on to 
 the sea level. The chauffeur clapped on his brakes 
 and stopped short. 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed. " Here's more 
 trouble ! " 
 
 Gerald for a moment was speechless. They seemed
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 33 
 
 to have come suddenly upon a huge plain of waters, 
 an immense lake reaching as far as they could see 
 on either side. The road before them stretched like 
 a ribbon for the next three miles. Here and there 
 it disappeared and reappeared again. In many places 
 it was lapped by little waves. Everywhere the 
 hedges were either altogether or half under water. In 
 the distance was one farmhouse, only the roof of 
 which was visible, and from which the inhabitants 
 were clambering into a boat. And beyond, with 
 scarcely a break save for the rising of one strangely- 
 shaped hill, was the sea. Gerald pointed with his 
 finger. 
 
 " There's St. David's Hall," he said, " on the other 
 side of the hill. The road seems all right." 
 
 " Does it ! " the chauffeur grunted. " It's under 
 water more than half the way, and Heaven knows how 
 deep it is at the sides ! I'm not going to risk my 
 life along there. I am going to take the car back 
 to Holt." 
 
 His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but 
 Gerald gripped it. 
 
 " Look here," he protested, " we haven't come all 
 this way to turn back. You don't look like a cow- 
 ard." 
 
 " I am not a coward, sir," was the quiet answer. 
 " Neither am I a fool. I don't see any use in risking 
 our lives and my master's motor-car, because you 
 want to get home.'* 
 
 " Naturally," Gerald answered calmly, " but re- 
 member this. I am responsible for your car not 
 you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle." 
 
 The chauffeur nodded shortly.
 
 34 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " You're Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren't you, sir ? " 
 he remarked. " I thought I recognised you." 
 
 " I am," Gerald admitted. " We've had a rough 
 journey, but it doesn't seem sense to turn back now, 
 does it, with the house in sight ? " 
 
 " That's all very well, sir," the chauffeur objected 
 doubtfully, " but I don't believe the road's even pass- 
 able, and the floods seem to me to be rising." 
 
 " Try it," the young man begged. " Look here, 
 I don't want to bribe you, or anything of that sort. 
 You know you're coming out of this well. It's a 
 serious matter for me, and I shan't be likely to forget 
 it. I want to take this gentleman to St. David's 
 Hall and not to a hospital. You've brought me here 
 so far like a man. Let's go through with it. If the 
 worst comes to the worst, we can both swim, I sup- 
 pose, and we are not likely to get out of our depth." 
 
 The chauffeur moved his head backwards. 
 
 "How about him?" 
 
 " He must take his chance," Gerald replied. 
 " He's all right where he is. The car won't upset 
 and there are plenty of people who'll see if we get 
 into trouble. Come, let's make a dash for it." 
 
 The chauffeur thrust in his clutch and settled him- 
 self down. They glided off along that winding 
 stretch of road. To its very edge, on either side of 
 them, so close that they could almost touch it, came 
 the water, water which stretched as far as they could 
 see, swaying, waveless, sinister-looking. Even Ger- 
 ald, after his first impulse of wonder, kept his eyes 
 averted and fixed upon the road ahead. Soon they 
 reached a place where the water met in front. There 
 were only the rows of white palings on either side to
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 35 
 
 guide them. The chauffeur muttered to himself as 
 he changed to his first speed. 
 
 " If the engine gets stopped," he said, " I don't 
 know how we shall get out of this." 
 
 They emerged on the other side. For some time 
 they had a clear run. Then suddenly the driver 
 clapped on his brakes. 
 
 " My God ! " he cried. " We can't get through 
 that ! " 
 
 In front of them for more than a hundred yards 
 the water seemed suddenly to have flowed across the 
 road. Still a mile distant, perched on a ridge of that 
 strangely-placed hill, was their destination. 
 
 " It can't be done, sir ! " the man groaned. 
 " There isn't a car ever built could get through that. 
 See, it's nearly up to the top of those posts. I must 
 put her in the reverse and get back, even if we have 
 to wait on the higher part of the road for a boat." 
 
 He glanced behind, and a second cry broke from 
 his Kps. Gerald stood up in his place. Already the 
 road which had been clear a few minutes before was 
 hidden. The water was washing almost over the tops 
 of the white posts behind them. Little waves were 
 breaking against the summit of the raised bank. 
 
 " We're cut off ! " the chauffeur exclaimed. 
 " What a fool I was to try this ! There's the tide 
 coming in as well ! " 
 
 Gerald sat down in his place. 
 
 " Look here," he said, " we can't go back, whether 
 we want to or not. It's much worse behind there 
 than it is in front. There's only one chance. Go 
 for it straight ahead in your first speed. It may not 
 stop the engine. In any case, it will be worse pres-
 
 36 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 ently. There's no use funking it. If the worst hap- 
 pens, we can sit in the car. The water won't be 
 above our heads and there are some boats about. 
 Blow your horn well first, in case there's any one 
 within hearing, and then go for it." 
 
 The chauffeur obeyed. They hissed and splut- 
 tered into the water. Soon all trace of the road was 
 completely lost. They steered only by the tops of 
 the white posts. 
 
 " It's getting deeper," the man declared. " It's 
 within an inch or two of the bonnet now. Hold on." 
 
 A wave broke almost over them but the engine con- 
 tinued its beat. 
 
 " If we stop now," he gasped, " we're done ! " 
 
 The engine began to knock. 
 
 " Stick at it," Gerald cried, rising in his place a 
 little. " Look, there's only one post lower than the 
 last one that we passed. They get higher all the 
 time, ahead. You can almost see the road in front 
 there. Now, in with your gear again, and stick at 
 it." 
 
 Another wave broke, this time completely over them. 
 They listened with strained ears the engine con- 
 tinued to beat. They still moved slowly. Then there 
 was a shock. The wheel had struck something in the 
 road a great stone or rock. The chauffeur thrust 
 the car out of gear. The engine still beat. Gerald 
 leaped from the car. The water was over his knees. 
 He crossed in front of the bonnet and stooped down. 
 
 " I've got it ! " he exclaimed, tugging hard. " It's 
 a stone." 
 
 He moved it, rolled it on one side, and pushed at 
 the wheel of the car as his companion put in the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 37 
 
 first speed. They started again. He jumped back 
 into his place. 
 
 " We've done it, all right ! " he cried. " Don't you 
 see? It's getting lower all the time." 
 
 The chauffeur had lost his nerve. His cheeks were 
 pale, his teeth were chattering. The engine, however, 
 was still beating. Gradually the pressure of the 
 water grew less. In front of them they caught a 
 glimpse of the road. They drew up at the top of a 
 little bridge over one of the dikes. Gerald uttered 
 a brief exclamation of triumph. 
 
 "We're safe!" he almost sobbed. "There's the 
 road, straight ahead and round to the right. There's 
 no more water anywhere near." 
 
 They had left the main part of the flood behind 
 them. There were still great pools in the side of the 
 road, and huge masses of seaweed had been carried 
 up and were lying in their track. There was no more 
 water, however. At every moment they drew nearer 
 to the strangely-shaped hill with its crown of trees. 
 
 " The house is on the other side," Gerald pointed 
 out. " We can go through the lodge gates at the 
 back here. The ascent isn't so steep." 
 
 They turned sharply to the right, along another 
 stretch of straight road set with white posts, ending 
 before a red brick lodge and a closed gate. They 
 blew the horn and a gardener came out. He gazed 
 at them in amazement. 
 
 " It's all right," Gerald cried. " Let us through 
 quickly, Foulds. We've a gentleman in behind who's 
 ill." 
 
 The man swung open the gate with a respectful 
 salute. They made their way up a winding drive
 
 3 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 of considerable length, and at last they came to a 
 broad, open space almost like a platform. On their 
 left were the marshes, and beyond, the sea. Along 
 their right stretched the long front of an Elizabethan 
 mansion. They drew up in front of the hall door. 
 Their coming had been observed, and servants were 
 already waiting. Gerald sprang to the ground. 
 
 " There's a gentleman in behind who's ill," he ex- 
 plained to the butler. " He has met with an accident 
 on the way. Three or four of you had better carry 
 him up to a bedroom any one that is ready. And 
 you, George," he added, turning to a boy, " get into 
 the car and show this man the way round to the ga- 
 rage, and then take him to the servants' hall." 
 
 Several of the servants hastened to do his bidding, 
 and Gerald did his best to answer the eager but re- 
 spectful stream of questions. And then, just as they 
 were in the act of lifting the still unconscious man on 
 to the floor of the hall, came a queer sound a shrill, 
 reverberating whistle. They all looked up the stairs. 
 
 " The master is awake," Henderson, the butler, re- 
 marked, dropping his voice a little. 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 " I will go to him at once," he said.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Accustomed though he was to the sight which he 
 was about to face, Gerald shivered slightly as he 
 opened the door of Mr. Fentolin's room. A strange 
 sort of fear seemed to have crept into his bearing and 
 expression, a fear of which there had been no traces 
 whatever during those terrible hours through which 
 he had passed not even during that last reckless 
 journey across the marshes. He walked with hesitat- 
 ing footsteps across the spacious and lofty room. 
 He had the air of some frightened creature approach- 
 ing his master. Yet all that was visible of the despot 
 who ruled his whole household in deadly fear was the 
 kindly and beautiful face of an elderly man, whose 
 stunted limbs and body were mercifully concealed. 
 He sat in a little carriage, with a rug drawn closely 
 across his chest and up to his armpits. His beauti- 
 fully shaped hands were exposed, and his face ; noth- 
 ing else. His hair was a silvery white ; his complex- 
 ion parchment-like, pallid, entirely colourless. His 
 eyes were a soft shade of blue. His features were so 
 finely cut and chiselled that they resembled some ex- 
 quisite piece of statuary. He smiled as his nephew 
 came slowly towards him. One might almost have 
 fancied that the young man's abject state was a source 
 of pleasure to him. 
 
 " So you are back again, my dear Gerald. A
 
 40 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 pleasant surprise, indeed, but what is the meaning of 
 it? And what of my little commission, eh? " 
 
 The young man's face was dark and sullen. He 
 spoke quickly but without any sign of eagerness or 
 interest in the information he vouchsafed. 
 
 " The storm has stopped all the trains," he said. 
 " The boat did not cross last night, and in any case 
 I couldn't have reached Harwich. As for your com- 
 mission, I travelled down from London alone with the 
 man you told me to spy upon. I could have stolen 
 anything he had if I had been used to the work. As 
 it was I brought the man himself." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's delicate fingers played with the han- 
 dle of his chair. The smile had passed from his 
 lips. He looked at his nephew in gentle bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 " My dear boy," he protested, " come, come, be 
 careful what you are saying. You have brought the 
 man himself! So far as my information goes, Mr. 
 John P. Dunster is charged with a very important 
 diplomatic commission. He is on his way to Cologne, 
 %nd from what 1 know aoout the man, 2 think that it 
 would require more than your persuasions to induce 
 him to break off his journey. You do not really wish 
 me to believe that you have brought him here as a 
 guest?" 
 
 " I was at Liverpool Street Station last night," 
 Gerald declared. " I had no idea how to accost him, 
 and as to stealing any of his belongings, I couldn't 
 have done it. You must hear how fortune helped me, 
 though. Mr. Dunster missed the train ; so did I 
 purposely. He ordered a special. I asked permis- 
 sion to travel with him. I told him a lie as to how
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 41 
 
 I had missed the train. I hated it, but it was neces- 
 sary." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded approvingly. 
 
 " My dear boy," he said, " to trifle with the truth 
 is always unpleasant. Besides, you are a Fentolin, 
 and our love of truth is proverbial. But there are 
 times, you know, when for the good of others we must 
 sacrifice our scruples. So you told Mr. Dunster a 
 falsehood." 
 
 " He let me travel with him," Gerald continued. 
 " We were all night getting about half-way here. 
 Then you know about the storm, I suppose ? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin spread out his hands. 
 
 " Could one avoid the knowledge of it ? " he asked. 
 " Such a sight has never been seen." 
 
 " We found we couldn't get to Harwich," Gerald 
 went on. " They telegraphed to London and got 
 permission to bring us to Yarmouth. We were on 
 our way to Norwich, and the train ran off the line." 
 
 " An accident ? " Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 " Our train ran off the line and pitched down an 
 embankment. Mr. Dunster has concussion of the 
 brain. He and I were taken to a miserable little inn 
 near Wymondham. From there I hired a motor-car 
 and brought him here." 
 
 " You hired a motor-car and brought him here," 
 Mr. Fentolin repeated softly. " My dear boy for- 
 give me if I find this a little hard to understand. 
 You say that you have brought him here. Had he 
 nothing to say about it? " 
 
 " He was unconscious when we picked him up," 
 Gerald explained. " He is unconscious now. The
 
 42 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 doctor said he would remain so for at least twenty- 
 four hours, and it didn't seem to me that the journey 
 would do him any particular harm. The roof had 
 been stripped off the inn where we were, and the place 
 was quite uninhabitable, so we should have had to 
 have moved him somewhere. We put him in the ton- 
 neau of the car and covered him up. They have 
 carried him now into a bedroom, and Sarson is look- 
 ing after him." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat quite silent. His eyes blinked 
 once or twice, and there was a curious curve about 
 his lips. 
 
 " You have done well, my boy," he pronounced 
 slowly. " Your scheme of bringing him here sounds 
 a little primitive, but success justifies everything." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin raised to his lips and blew softly a 
 little gold whistle which hung from a chain attached 
 to his waistcoat. Almost immediately the door 
 opened. A man entered, dressed somberly in black, 
 whose bearing and demeanour alike denoted the serv- 
 ant, but whose physique was the physique of a prize- 
 fighter. He was scarcely more than five feet six in 
 height, but his shoulders were extraordinarily broad. 
 He had a short, bull neck and long, mighty arms. 
 His face, with the heavy jaw and small eyes, was the 
 face of the typical fighting man, yet his features 
 seemed to have become disposed by habit into an ex- 
 pression of gentle, almost servile civility. 
 
 " Meekins," Mr. Fentolin said, " a visitor has ar- 
 rived. Do you happen to have noticed what luggage 
 he brought ? " 
 
 " There is one small dressing-case, sir," the man re- 
 plied ; " nothing else that I have seen."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 43 
 
 " That is all we brought," Gerald interposed. 
 
 " You will bring the dressing-case here at once," 
 Mr. Fentolin directed, " and also my compliments to 
 Doctor Sarson, and any pocket-book or papers which 
 may help us to send a message to the gentleman's 
 friends." 
 
 Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin turned back towards his nephew. 
 
 " My dear boy," he said, " tell me why you look 
 as though there were ghosts flitting about the room? 
 You are not ill, I trust? " 
 
 " Tired, perhaps," Gerald answered shortly. " We 
 were many hours in the car. I have had no sleep." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's face was full of kindly sympathy. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he exclaimed, " I am selfish, in- 
 deed ! I should not have kept you here for a moment. 
 You had better go and lie down." 
 
 " I'll go directly," Gerald promised. " Can I 
 speak to you for one moment first ? " 
 
 "Speak to me?" Mr. Fentolin repeated, a little 
 wonderingly. " My dear Gerald, is there ever a mo- 
 ment when I am not wholly at your service? " 
 
 " That fellow Dunster, on the platform, the first 
 moment I spoke to him, made me feel like a cur," the 
 boy said, with a sudden access of vigour in his tone. 
 " I told him I was on my way to a golf tournament, 
 and he pointed to the news about the war. Is it true, 
 uncle, that we may be at war at any moment? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " A terrible reflection, my dear boy," he admitted 
 softly, " but, alas ! the finger of probability points 
 that way." 
 
 "Then what about me?" Gerald exclaimed. "I
 
 44 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 don't want to complain, but listen. You dragged me 
 home from a public school before I could even join 
 my cadet corps. You've kept me hanging around 
 here with a tutor. You wouldn't let me go to the 
 university. You've stopped my entering either of the 
 services. I am nineteen years old and useless. Do 
 you know what I should do to-morrow if war broke 
 out? Enlist! It's the only thing left for me." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin was shocked. 
 
 " My dear boy ! " he exclaimed. " You must not 
 talk like that! I am quite sure that it would break 
 your mother's heart. Enlist, indeed! Nothing of 
 the sort. You are part of the civilian population of 
 the country." 
 
 " Civilian population be d d ! " the boy suddenly 
 cried, white with rage. " Uncle, forgive me, I have 
 stood all I can bear. If you won't let me go in for 
 the army I could pass my exams to-morrow I'm 
 off. I'll enlist without waiting for the war. I can't 
 bear this idle life any longer." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. 
 
 " Gerald ! " he said softly. 
 
 The boy turned his head, turned it unwillingly. 
 He had the air of a caged animal obeying the word of 
 his keeper. A certain savage uncouthness seemed to 
 have fallen upon him during the last few minutes. 
 There was something almost like a snarl in his ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " Gerald ! " Mr. Fentolin repeated. 
 
 Then it was obvious that there was something be- 
 tween those two, some memory or some living thing, 
 seldom, if ever, to be spoken of, and yet always 
 present. The boy began to tremble.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 45 
 
 " You're a little overwrought, Gerald," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin declared. " Sit quietly in my easy-chair for a 
 few moments. Wait until I have examined Mr. Dun- 
 ster's belongings. Ah ! Meekins has been prompt, in- 
 deed." 
 
 There was a stealthy tap at the door. Meekins 
 entered with the small dressing-case in his hand. He 
 brought it over to his master's chair. Mr. Fentolin 
 pointed to the floor. 
 
 " Open it there, Meekins," he directed. " I fancy 
 that the pocket-book you are carrying will prove more 
 interesting. We will just glance through the dres- 
 sing-case first. Thank you. Yes, you can lay the 
 things upon the floor. A man of Spartan-like life, 
 I should imagine Mr. Dunster. A spare toothbrush, 
 though, I am glad to see. Pyjamas of most unat- 
 tractive pattern. And what a taste in shirts ! 
 Nothing but wearing apparel and -singularly little of 
 that, I fancy." 
 
 The dressing-case was empty, its contents upon the 
 floor. Mr. Fentolin held out his hand and took the 
 pocket-book which Meekins had been carrying. It 
 was an ordinary morocco affair, similar to those is- 
 sued by American banking houses to enclose letters of 
 vredit. One side of it was filled with notes. Mr. 
 Fentolin withdrew them and glanced them through. 
 
 " Dear me ! " he murmured. " No wonder our 
 friend engages special trains t He travels like a 
 prince, indeed. Two thousand pounds, or near it, 
 in this little compartment. And here, I see, a letter, 
 a sealed letter with no address." 
 
 He held it out in front of him. It was a long 
 commercial envelope of ordinary type, and although
 
 46 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 the flap was secured with a blob of sealing wax, there 
 was no particular impression upon it. 
 
 " We can match this envelope, I think," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin said softly. " The seal we can copy. I think 
 that, for the sake of others, we must discover the 
 cause for this hurried journey on the part of Mr. 
 John P. Dunster." 
 
 With his long, delicate forefinger Mr. Fentolin slit 
 the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of paper 
 which it contained. There were a dozen lines of writ- 
 ten matter, and what appeared to be a dozen signa- 
 tures appended. Mr. Fentolin read it, at first with 
 ordinary interest. Then a change came. The look 
 of a man drawn out of himself, drawn out of all 
 knowledge of his surroundings or his present state, 
 stole into his face. Literally he became transfixed. 
 The delicate fingers of his left hand gripped the sides 
 of his little carriage. His eyes shone as though 
 those few written lines upon which they were riveted 
 were indeed some message from an unknown, an un- 
 imagined world. Yet no word ever passed his lips. 
 There came a time when the tension seemed a little 
 relaxed. With fingers which still trembled, he folded 
 up the sheet and replaced it in the envelope. He 
 guarded it with both his hands and sat quite still. 
 Neither Gerald nor his servant moved. Somehow, 
 the sense of Mr. Fentolin's suppressed excitement 
 seemed to have become communicated to them. It 
 was a little tableau, broken at last by Mr. Fentolin 
 himself. 
 
 " I should like," he said, turning to Gerald, " to 
 be alone. It may interest you to know that this docu- 
 ment which Mr. Dunster has brought across the seas,
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 47 
 
 and which I hold in my hands, is the most amazing 
 message of modern times." 
 
 Gerald rose to his feet. 
 
 " What are you going to do about it? " he asked 
 abruptly. " Do you want any one in from the tele- 
 graph room ? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly. 
 
 " At present," he announced, " I am going to re- 
 flect. Meekins, my chair to the north window so. 
 I am going to sit here," he went on, " and I am going 
 to look across the sea and reflect. A very fortunate 
 storm, after all, I think, which kept Mr. John P. 
 Dunster from the Harwich boat last night! Leave 
 me, Gerald, for a. time. Stand behind my chair, 
 Meekins, and see that no one enters." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat in his chair, his hands still grip- 
 ping the wonderful document, his eyes travelling over 
 the ocean now flecked with sunlight. His eyes were 
 fixed upon the horizon. He looked steadily east- 
 ward.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster opened his eyes upon strange 
 surroundings. He found himself lying upon a bed 
 deliciously soft, with lace-edged sheets and lavender- 
 perfumed bed hangings. Through the discreetly 
 opened upper window came a pleasant and ozone- 
 laden breeze. The furniture in the room was mostly 
 of an old-fashioned type, some of it of oak, curiously 
 carved, and most of it surmounted with a coat of 
 arms. The apartment was lofty and of almost 
 palatial proportions. The whole atmosphere of the 
 place breathed comfort and refinement. The only 
 thing of which he did not wholly approve was the face 
 of the nurse who rose silently to her feet at his mur- 
 mured question: 
 
 "Where am I?" 
 
 She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a mo- 
 ment, and took his wrist between her fingers. 
 
 " You have been ill," she said. " There was a rail- 
 way accident. You are to lie quite still and not say 
 a word. I am going to fetch the doctor now. He 
 wished to see you directly you spoke." 
 
 Mr. Dunster dozed again for several moments. 
 When he reopened his eyes, a man was standing by 
 his bedside, a short man with a black beard and gold- 
 rimmed glasses. Mr. Dunster, in this first stage of 
 his convalescence, was perhaps difficult to please, for 
 he did not like the look of the doctor, either.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 49 
 
 " Please tell me where I am? " he begged. 
 
 " You have been in a railway accident," the doctor 
 told him, " and you were brought here afterwards." 
 
 " In a railway accident," Mr. Dunster repeated. 
 " Ah, yes, I remember ! I took a special to Harwich 
 I remember now. Where is my dressing-bag? " 
 
 " It is here by the side of your bed." 
 
 "And my pocket-book?" 
 
 " It is on your dressing-table." 
 
 " Have any of my things been looked at ? " 
 
 " Only so far as was necessary to discover your 
 identity," the doctor assured him. " Don't talk too 
 much. The nurse is bringing you some beef tea." 
 
 " When," Mr. Dunster enquired, " shall I be able to 
 continue my journey? " 
 
 " That depends upon many things," the doctor 
 replied. 
 
 Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt consider- 
 ably stronger. His head still ached, but his memory 
 was returning. 
 
 " There was a young man in the carriage with me," 
 he asked presently. " Mr. Gerald something or other 
 I think he said his name was ? " 
 
 " Fentolin," the doctor said. " He is unhurt. 
 This is his relative's house to which you have been 
 brought." 
 
 Mr. Dunster lay for a time with knitted brows. 
 Once more the name of Fentolin seemed somehow 
 familiar to him, seemed somehow to bring with it 
 to his memory a note of warning. He looked around 
 the room fretfully. He looked into the nurse's face, 
 which he disliked exceedingly, and he looked at the 
 doctor, whom he was beginning to detest.
 
 5 o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Whose house exactly is this? " he demanded. 
 
 " This is St. David's Hall the home of Mr. Miles 
 Fentolin," the doctor told him. " The young gentle- 
 man with whom you were travelling is his nephew." 
 
 " Can I send a telegram ? " Mr. Dunster asked, a 
 little abruptly. 
 
 "Without a doubt," the doctor replied. "Mr. 
 Fentolin desired me to ask you if there was any one 
 whom you would like to apprise of your safety." 
 
 Again the man upon the bed lay quite still, with 
 knitted brows. There was surely something familiar 
 about that name. Was it his fevered fancy or was 
 there also something a little sinister? 
 
 The nurse, who had glided from the room, came 
 back presently with some telegraph forms. Mr. 
 Dunster held out his hand for them and then hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I 
 can rely upon leaving here? " 
 
 " You will probably be well enough to travel on the 
 third day from now," the doctor assured him. 
 
 " The third day," Mr. Dunster muttered. " Very 
 well." 
 
 He wrote out three telegrams and passed them 
 over. 
 
 "One," he said, "is to New York, one to The 
 Hague, and one to London. There was plenty of 
 money in my pocket. Perhaps you will find it and 
 pay for these." 
 
 " Is there anything more," the doctor asked, " that 
 can be done for your comfort ? " 
 
 " Nothing at present," Mr. Dunster replied. 
 " My head aches now, but I think that I shall want
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 51 
 
 to leave before three days are up. Are you the doc- 
 tor in the neighbourhood? " 
 
 Sarson shook his head. 
 
 " I am physician to Mr. Fentolin's household," he 
 answered quietly. " I live here. Mr. Fentolin is 
 himself somewhat of an invalid and requires constant 
 medical attention." 
 
 Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly. 
 
 " You will forgive me," he said. " I am an Amer- 
 ican and I am used to plain speech. I am quite un- 
 used to being attended by strange doctors. I under- 
 stand that you are not in general practice now. 
 Might I ask if you are fully qualified? " 
 
 " I am an M.D. of London," the doctor replied. 
 " You can make yourself quite easy as to my quali- 
 fications. It would not suit Mr. Fentolin's purpose 
 to entrust himself to the care of any one without a 
 reputation." 
 
 He left the room, and Mr. Dunster closed his eyes. 
 His slumbers, however, were not altogether peaceful 
 ones. All the time there seemed to be a hammering 
 inside his head, and from somewhere back in his ob- 
 scured memory the name of Fentolin seemed to be 
 continually asserting itself. From somewhere or 
 other, the amazing sense which sometimes gives warn- 
 ing of danger to men of adventure, seemed to have 
 opened its feelers. He rested because he was ex- 
 hausted, but even in his sleep he was ill at ease. 
 
 The doctor, with the telegrams in his hand, made 
 his way down a splendid staircase, past the long pic- 
 ture gallery where masterpieces of Van Dyck and 
 Rubens frowned and leered down upon him ; descended 
 the final stretch of broad oak stairs, crossed the hall,
 
 52 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 and entered his master's rooms. Mr. Fentolin was 
 sitting before the open window, an easel in front of 
 him, a palette in his left hand, painting with deft, 
 swift touches. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, without looking around, " it 
 is my friend the doctor, my friend Sarson, M.D. of 
 London, L.R.C.P. and all the rest of it. He brings 
 with him the odour of the sick room. For a moment 
 or two, just for a moment, dear friend, do not disturb 
 me. Do not bring any alien thoughts into my brain. 
 I am absorbed, you see absorbed. It is a strange 
 problem of colour, this." 
 
 He was silent for several moments, glancing repeat- 
 edly out of the window and back to his canvas, paint- 
 ing all the time with swift and delicate precision. 
 
 " Meekins, who stands behind my chair," Mr. 
 Fentolin continued, " even Meekins is entranced. He 
 has a soul, my friend Sarson, although you might not 
 think it. He, too, sees sometimes the colour in the 
 skies, the glitter upon the sands, the clear, sweet 
 purity of those long stretches of virgin water. 
 Meekins, I believe, has a soul, only he likes better to 
 see these things grow under his master's touch than 
 to wander about and solve their riddles for himself." 
 
 The man remained perfectly immovable. Not a 
 feature twitched. Yet it was a fact that, although he 
 stood where Mr. Fentolin could not possibly observe 
 him, he never removed his gaze from the canvas. 
 
 " You see, my medical friend, that there has been 
 a great tide in the night, following upon the flood? 
 Even our small landmarks are shifted. Soon, in my 
 little carriage, I shall ride down to the Tower. I shall 
 sit there, and I shall watch the sea. I think that this
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 53 
 
 evening, with the turn of the tide, the spray may 
 reach even to my windows there. I 'shall paint again. 
 There is always something fresh in the sea, you know 
 always something fresh in the sea. Like a human 
 face angry or pleased, sullen or joyful. Some 
 people like to paint the sea at its calmest and most 
 beautiful. Some people like to see happy faces 
 around them. It is not every one who appreciates 
 the other things. It is not quite like that with me, 
 eh, Sarson? " 
 
 His hand fell to his side. Momentarily he had fin- 
 ished his work. He turned around and eyed the doc- 
 tor, who stood in taciturn silence. 
 
 " Answer. Answer me," he insisted. 
 
 The doctor's gloomy face seemed darker still. 
 
 " You have spoken the truth, Mr. Fentolin," he ad- 
 mitted. " You are not one of the vulgar herd who 
 love to consort with pleasure and happiness. You are 
 one of those who understand the beauty of unhappi- 
 ness in others," he added, with faint emphasis. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. His face became almost like 
 the face of one of those angels of the great Italian 
 master. 
 
 " How well you know me ! " he murmured. " My 
 humble effort, Doctor how do you like it?" 
 
 The doctor bent over the canvas. 
 
 " I know nothing about art," he said, a little 
 roughly. " Your work seems to me clever a little 
 grotesque, perhaps ; a little straining after the hard, 
 plain things which threaten. Nothing of the idealist 
 in your work, Mr. Fentolin." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a mo- 
 ment.
 
 54 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " A clever man, Sarson," he remarked coolly, " but 
 no courtier. Never mind, my work pleases me. It 
 gives me a passing sensation of happiness. Now, 
 what about our patient ? " 
 
 " He recovers," the doctor pronounced. " From 
 my short examination, I should say that he had the 
 constitution of an ox. I have told him that he will be 
 up in three days. As a matter of fact, he will be able, 
 if he wants to, to walk out of the house to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head. 
 
 " We cannot spare him quite so soon," he declared. 
 " We must avail ourselves of this wonderful chance 
 afforded us by my brilliant young nephew. We must 
 keep him with us for a little time. What is it that you 
 have in your hands, Doctor? Telegrams, I think. 
 Let me look at them." 
 
 The doctor held them out. Mr. Fentolin took them 
 eagerly between his thin, delicate fingers. Suddenly 
 his face darkened, and became like the face of a spoilt 
 and angry child. 
 
 " Cipher ! " he exclaimed furiously. " A cipher 
 which he knows so well as to remember it, too ! Never 
 mind, it will be easy to decode. It will amuse me dur- 
 ing the afternoon. Very good, Sarson. I will take 
 charge of these." 
 
 " You do not wish anything dispatched? " 
 
 " Nothing at present," Mr. Fentolin sighed. " It 
 will be well, I think, for the poor man to remain un- 
 disturbed by any communications from his friends. 
 Is he restless at all? " 
 
 " He wants to get on with his journey." 
 
 " We shall see," Mr. Fentolin remarked. " Now 
 feel my pulse, Sarson. How am I this morning? "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 55 
 
 The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between 
 his fingers, and let it go. 
 
 " In perfect health, as usual," he announced 
 grimly. 
 
 " Ah, but you cannot be sure ! " Mr. Fentolin pro- 
 tested. " My tongue, if you please." 
 
 He put it out. 
 
 " Excellent ! " 
 
 " We must make quite certain," Mr. Fentolin con- 
 tinued. " There are so many people who would miss 
 me. My place in the world would not be easily filled. 
 Undo my waistcoat, Sarson. Feel my heart, please. 
 Feel carefully. I can see the end of your stethoscope 
 in your pocket. Don't scamp it. I fancied this 
 morning, when I was lying here alone, that there was 
 something almost like a palpitation a quicker beat. 
 Be very careful, Sarson. Now." 
 
 The doctor made his examination with impassive 
 face. Then he stepped back. 
 
 " There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fento- 
 lin," he announced. " The palpitation you spoke of 
 is a mistake. ' You are in perfect health." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. 
 
 " Then," he said, " I will now amuse myself by a 
 gentle ride down to the Tower. You are entirely sat 
 isfied, Sarson? You are keeping nothing back from 
 me?" 
 
 The doctor looked at him with grim, impassive 
 face. 
 
 " There is nothing to keep back," he declared. 
 " You have the constitution of a cowboy. There is 
 no reason why you should not live for another thirty 
 years."
 
 5 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed, as though a weight had been 
 removed from his heart. 
 
 " I will now," he decided, reaching forward for the 
 handle of his carriage, " go down to the Tower. It 
 is just possible that a few days' seclusion might be 
 good for our guest." 
 
 The doctor turned silently away. There was no 
 one there to see his expression as he walked towards 
 the door.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 The two men who were supping together in the 
 grillroom at the Cafe Milan were talking with a se- 
 riousness which seemed a little out of keeping with the 
 rose-shaded lamps and the swaying music of the band 
 from the distant restaurant. Their conversation had 
 started some hours before in the club smoking-room 
 and had continued intermittently throughout the even- 
 ing. It had received a further stimulus when Richard 
 Hamel, who had bought an Evening Standard on their 
 way from the theatre a few minutes ago, came across 
 a certain paragraph in it which he read aloud. 
 
 " Hanged if I understand things over here, nowa- 
 days, Reggie ! " he declared, laying the paper down. 
 " Here's another Englishman imprisoned in Germany 
 this time at a place no one ever heard of before. 
 I won't try to pronounce it. What does it all mean ? 
 It's all very well to shrug your shoulders, but when 
 there are eighteen arrests within one week on a 
 charge of espionage, there must be something up." 
 
 For the first time Reginald Kinsley seemed inclined 
 to discuss the subject seriously. He drew the paper 
 towards him and read the little paragraph, word by 
 word. Then he gave some further order to an at- 
 tentive maitre d'hotel and glanced around to be sure 
 that they were not overheard. 
 
 " Look here, Dick, old chap," he said, " you are just 
 back from abroad and you are not quite in the hang
 
 5 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 of things yet. Let me ask you a plain question, 
 What do you think of us all? " 
 
 " Think of you? " Hamel repeated, a little doubt- 
 fully. " Do you mean personally ? " 
 
 " Take it any way you like," Kinsley replied. 
 " Look at me. Nine years ago we played cricket in 
 the same eleven. I don't look much like cricket now, 
 do I?" 
 
 Hamel looked at his companion thoughtfully. For 
 a man who was doubtless still young, Kinsley had cer- 
 tainly an aged appearance. The hair about his tem- 
 ples was grey ; there were lines about his mouth and 
 forehead. He had the air of one who lived in an at- 
 mosphere of anxiety. 
 
 " To me," Hamel declared frankly, " you look 
 worried. If I hadn't heard so much of the success of 
 your political, career and all the rest of it, I should 
 have thought that things were going badly with you." 
 
 " They've gone well enough with me personally," 
 Kinsley admitted, " but I'm only one of many. Pol- 
 itics isn't the game it was. The Foreign Office 
 especially is ageing its men fast these few years. 
 We've been going through hell, Hamel, and we are up 
 against it now, hard up against it." 
 
 The slight smile passed from the lips of Hamel's 
 sunburnt, good-natured face. He himself seemed to 
 become infected with something of his companion's 
 anxiety. 
 
 " There's nothing seriously wrong, is there, Reg- 
 gie? " he asked. 
 
 " Dick," said Kinsley, with a sigh, " I am afraid 
 there is. It's very seldom I talk as plainly as this 
 to any one, but you are just the person one can un-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 59 
 
 burden oneself to a little ; and to tell you the truth, it's 
 rather a relief. As you say, these eighteen arrests in 
 one week do mean something. Half of the English- 
 men who have been arrested are, to my certain knowl- 
 edge, connected with our Secret Service, and they have 
 been arrested, in many cases, where there are no forti- 
 fications worth speaking of within fifty miles, on one 
 pretext or another. The fact of the matter is that 
 things are going on in Germany, just at the present 
 moment, the knowledge of which is of vital interest to 
 us." 
 
 " Then these arrests," Hamel remarked, " are really 
 bona fide? " 
 
 " Without a doubt," his companion agreed. " I 
 only wonder there have not been more. I am telling 
 you what is a pretty open secret when I tell you that 
 there is a conference due to be held this week at some 
 place or another on the continent I don't know 
 where, myself which will have a very important 
 bearing upon our future. We know just as much as 
 that and not much more." 
 
 " A conference between whom ? " Hamel asked. 
 
 Kinsley dropped his voice almost to a whisper. 
 
 " We know," he replied, " that a very great man 
 from Russia, a greater still from France, a minister 
 from Austria, a statesman from Italy, and an envoy 
 from Japan, have been invited to meet a German min- 
 ister whose name I will not mention, even to you. The 
 subject of their proposed discussion has never been 
 breathed. One can only suspect. When I tell you 
 that no one from this country was invited to the con- 
 ference, I think you will be able, broadly speaking, to 
 divine its purpose. The clouds have been gathering
 
 60 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 for a good many years, and we have only buried our 
 heads a little deeper in the sands. We have had our 
 chances and wilfully chucked them away. National 
 Service or three more army corps four years ago 
 would have brought us an alliance which would have 
 meant absolute safety for twenty-one years. You 
 know what happened. We have lived through many 
 rumours and escaped, more narrowly than most 
 people realise, a great many dangers, but there is 
 every indication this time that the end is really 
 coming." 
 
 " And what will the end be ? " Hamel enquired 
 eagerly. , 
 
 Kinsley shrugged his shoulders and paused while 
 their glasses were filled with wine. 
 
 " It will be in the nature of a diplomatic coup," he 
 said presently. " Of that much I feel sure. England 
 will be forced into such a position that she will have 
 no alternative left but to declare war. That, of 
 course, will be the end of us. With OUK ridiculously 
 small army and absolutely no sane scheme for home 
 defence, we shall lose all that we have worth fighting 
 for our colonies without being able to strike 
 a blow. The thing is so ridiculously obvious. It has 
 been admitted time after time by every sea lord and 
 every commander-in-chief. We have listened to it, 
 and that's all. Our fleet is needed under present con- 
 ditions to protect our own shores. There isn't a 
 single battleship which could be safely spared. Can- 
 ada, Australia, New Zealand, Egypt, India, must take 
 care of themselves. I wonder when a nation of the 
 world ever played fast and loose with great posses- 
 sions as we have done ! M
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 61 
 
 " This is a nice sort of thing to hear almost one's 
 first night in England," Hamel remarked a little 
 gloomily. " Tell me some more about this confer- 
 ence. Are you sure that your information is re- 
 liable? " 
 
 " Our information is miserably scanty," Kinsley ad- 
 mitted. " Curiously enough, the man who must know 
 most about the whole thing is an Englishman, one of 
 the most curious mortals in the British Empire. A 
 spy of his succeeded in learning more than any of our 
 people, and without being arrested, too." 
 
 " And who is this singular person ? " Hamel asked. 
 
 " A man of whom you, I suppose, never heard," 
 Kinsley replied. " His name is Fentolin Miles 
 Fentolin and he lives somewhere down in Norfolk. 
 He is one of the strangest characters that ever lived, 
 stranger than any effort of fiction I ever met with, 
 He was in the Foreign Office once, and every one was 
 predicting for him a brilliant career. Then there was 
 an accident let me see, it must have been some six 
 or seven years ago and he had to have both his 
 legs amputated. No one knows exactly how the ac" 
 cident happened, and there was always a certain 
 amount of mystery connected with it. Since then he 
 has buried himself in the country. I don't think, in 
 fact, that he ever moves outside his place ; but some- 
 how or other he has managed to keep in touch with 
 all the political movements of the day." 
 
 " Fentolin," Hamel repeated softly to himself. 
 " Tell me, whereabouts does he live? " 
 
 " Quite a wonderful place in Norfolk, I believe, 
 somewhere near the sea. I've forgotten the name, for 
 the moment. He has had wireless telegraphy in-
 
 62 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 stalled ; he has a telegraph office in the house, half-a- 
 dozen private wires, and they say that he spends an 
 immense amount of money keeping in touch with 
 foreign politics. His excuse is that he speculates 
 largely, as I dare say he does; but just lately," 
 Kinsley went on more slowly, " he has been an object 
 of anxiety to all of us. It was he who sent the first 
 agent out to Germany, to try and discover at least 
 where this conference was to be held. His man re- 
 turned in safety, and he has one over there now who 
 has not been arrested. We seem to have lost nearly 
 all of ours." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that this man Fentolin actu- 
 ally possesses information which the Government 
 hasn't as to the intentions of foreign Powers? " 
 Hamel asked. 
 
 Kinsley nodded. There was a slight flush upon his 
 pallid cheeks. 
 
 " He not only has it, but he doesn't mean to part 
 with it. A few hundred years ago, when the rulers of 
 "this country were men with blood in their veins, he'd 
 have been given just one chance to tell all he knew, 
 and hung as a traitor if he hesitated. We don't do 
 that sort of thing nowadays. We rather go in for 
 preserving traitors. We permit them even in our own 
 House of Commons. However, I don't want to de- 
 press you and play the alarmist so soon after your 
 return to London. I dare say the old country'll 
 muddle along through our time." 
 
 " Don't be foolish," Hamel begged. " There's no 
 other subject of conversation could interest me half 
 as much. Have you formed any idea yourself as to 
 the nature of this conference? "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 63 
 
 " We all have an idea," Kinsley replied grimly ; 
 " India for Russia ; a large slice of China for Japan, 
 with probably Australia thrown in; Alsace-Lorraine 
 for France's neutrality. There's bribery for you. 
 What's to become of poor England then? Our 
 friends are only human, after all, and it's merely a 
 question of handing over to them sufficient spoil. 
 They must consider themselves first: that's the first 
 duty of their politicians towards their country." 
 
 " You mean to say," Hamel asked, " that you seri- 
 ously believe that a conference is on the point of 
 being held at which France and Russia are to be in- 
 vited to consider suggestions like this ? " 
 
 " I am afraid there's no doubt about it," Kinsley 
 declared. " Their ambassadors in London profess to 
 know nothing. That, of course, is their reasonable 
 attitude, but there's no doubt whatever that the con- 
 ference has been planned. I should say that to-night 
 we are nearer war, if we can summon enough spirit to 
 fight, than we have been since Fashoda." 
 
 " Queer if I have returned just in time for the 
 scrap," Hamel remarked thoughtfully. " I was in 
 the Militia once, so I expect I can get a j ob, if there's 
 any fighting." 
 
 "I can get you a better job than fighting one 
 you can start on to-morrow, too," Kinsley announced 
 abruptly, " that is if you really want to help ? " 
 
 " Of course I do," Hamel insisted. " I'm on for 
 anything." 
 
 " You say that you are entirely your own master 
 for the next six months ? " 
 
 " Or as much longer as I like," Hamel assented. 
 " No plans at all, except that I might drift round to
 
 64 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 the Norfolk coast and look up some of the places 
 where the governor used to paint. There's a queer 
 little house St. David's Tower, I believe they call it 
 
 which really belongs to me. It was given to my 
 
 father, or rather he bought it, from a man who I 
 think must have been some relative of your friend. I 
 feel sure the name was Fentolin." 
 
 Reginald Kinsley set down his wine-glass. 
 " Is your St. David's Tower anywhere near a place 
 called Salthouse?" he asked reflectively. 
 
 " That's the name of the village," Hamel admitted. 
 " My father used to spend quite a lot of time in those 
 parts, and painted at least a dozen pictures down 
 there." 
 
 " This is a coincidence," Reginald Kinsley declared, 
 lighting a cigarette. " I think, if I were you, Dick, 
 I'd go down and claim my property." 
 
 " Tired of me already ? " Hamel asked, smiling. 
 Reginald Kinsley knocked the ash from his ciga- 
 rette. 
 
 " It isn't that. The fact is, that job I was speak- 
 ing to you about was simply this. We want some one 
 to go down to Salthouse not exactly as a spy, you 
 know, but some one who has his wits about him. We 
 are all of us very curious about this man Fentolin. 
 There are no end of rumours which I won't mention to 
 you, for they might only put you off the scent. But 
 the man seems to be always intriguing. It wouldn't 
 matter so much if he were our friend, or if he were sim- 
 ply a financier, but to tell you the truth, we have cause 
 to suspect him." 
 
 " But he's an Englishman, surely? " Hamel asked. 
 *' The Fentolin who was my father's friend was just a
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 65 
 
 very wealthy Norfolk squire one of the best, from 
 all I have heard." 
 
 " Miles Fentolin is an Englishman," Kinsley ad- 
 mitted. " It is true, too, that he comes of a very 
 ancient Norfolk family. It doesn't do, however, to 
 build too much upon that. From all I can learn of 
 him, he is a sort of Puck, a professional mischief- 
 maker. I don't suppose there's anything an outsider 
 could find out which would be really useful to us, but 
 all the same, if I had the time, I should certainly go 
 down to Norfolk myself." 
 
 The conversation drifted away for a while. Mu- 
 tual acquaintances entered, there were several intro- 
 ductions, and it was not until the two found themselves 
 together in Kinsley's rooms for a few minutes before 
 parting that they were alone again. Hamel returned 
 then once more to the subject. 
 
 " Reggie," he said, " if you think it would be of 
 the slightest use, 'I'll go down to Salthouse to-morrow. 
 I am rather keen on going there, anyway. I am abso- 
 lutely fed up with life here alreajdy." 
 
 " It's just what I want you to do," Kinsley said. 
 " I am afraid Fentolin is a little too clever for you to 
 get on the right side of him, but if you could only get 
 an idea as to what his game is down there, it would be 
 a great help. You see, the fellow can't have gone 
 into all this sort of thing blindfold. We've lost sev- 
 eral very useful agents abroad and two from New 
 York who've gone into his pay. There must be a 
 method in it somewhere. If it really ends with his 
 financial operations why, all right. That's very 
 likely what it'll come to, but we should like to know. 
 The merest hint would be useful."
 
 66 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I'll do my best," Hamel promised. " In any 
 case, it will be just the few days' holiday I was looking 
 forward to." 
 
 Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and 
 turned towards his friend. 
 
 " Here's luck to you, Dick ! Take care of yourself. 
 All sorts of things may happen, you know. Old man 
 Fentolin may take a fancy to you and tell you secrets 
 that any statesman in Europe would be glad to hear. 
 He may tell you why this conference is being held and 
 what the result will be. You may be the first to 
 hear of our coming fall. Well, here's to you, any- 
 way ! Drop me a line, if you've anything to report." 
 
 " Cheero ! " Hamel answered, as he set down his 
 empty tumbler. " Astonishing how keen I feel about 
 this little adventure. I'm perfectly sick of the hum- 
 drum life I have been leading the last week, and you 
 do sort of take one back to the Arabian Nights, you 
 know, Reggie. I am never quite sure whether to take 
 you seriously or not." 
 
 Kinsley smiled as he held his friend's hand for a 
 moment. 
 
 " Dick," he said earnestly, " if only you'd believe 
 it, the adventures in the Arabian Nights were as noth- 
 ing compared with the present-day drama of foreign 
 politics. You see, we've learned to conceal things 
 nowadays to smooth them over, to play the part of 
 ordinary citizens to the world while we tug at the un- 
 derhand levers in our secret moments. Good night! 
 Good luck!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 t 
 
 Richard Hamel, although he certainly had not the 
 appearance of a person afflicted with nerves, gave a 
 slight start. For the last half-hour, during which 
 time the train had made no stop, he had been alone 
 in his compartment. Yet, to his surprise, he vas sud- 
 denly aware that the seat opposite to him had been 
 noiselessly taken by a girl whose eyes, also, were fixed 
 with curious intentness upon the broad expanse of 
 marshland and sands across which the train was slowly 
 making its way. Hamel had spent a great many 
 years abroad, and his first impulse was to speak with 
 the unexpected stranger. He forgot for a moment 
 that he was in England, travelling in a first-class car- 
 riage, and pointed with his left hand towards the 
 sea. 
 
 " Queer country this, isn't it? " he remarked pleas- 
 antly. " Do you know, I never heard you come in. 
 It gave me quite a start when I found that I had a 
 fellow-passenger." 
 
 She looked at him with a certain amount of still sur- 
 prise, a look which he returned just as steadfastly, 
 because even in those few seconds he was conscious of 
 that strange selective interest, certainly unaccounted 
 for by his own impressions of her appearance. She 
 seemed to him, at that first glance, very far indeed 
 from being good-looking, according to any of the 
 standards by which he had measured good looks. She
 
 68 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 was thin, too thin for his taste, and she carried her- 
 self with an aloofness to which he was unaccustomed. 
 Her cheeks were quite pale, her hair of a soft shade 
 of brown, her eyes grey and sad. She gave him alto- 
 gether an impression of colourlessness, and he had 
 been living in a land where colour and vitality meant 
 much. Her speech, too, in its very restraint, fell 
 strangely upon his ears. 
 
 " I have been travelling in an uncomfortable com- 
 partment," she observed. " I happened to notice, 
 when passing along the corridor, that yours was 
 empty. In any case, I am getting out at the next 
 station." 
 
 " So am I," he replied, still cheerfully. " I sup- 
 pose the next station is St. David's ? " 
 
 She made no answer, but so far as her expression 
 counted for anything at all, she was a little surprised. 
 Her eyes considered him for a moment. Hamel was 
 tall, well over six feet, powerfully made, with good 
 features, clear eyes, and complexion unusually sun- 
 burnt. He wore a flannel collar of unfamiliar shape, 
 and his clothes, although they were neat enough, were 
 of a pattern and cut obviously designed to afford the 
 maximum of ease and comfort with the minimum re- 
 gard to appearance. He wore, too, very thick boots, 
 and his hands gave one the impression that they were 
 seldom gloved. His voice was pleasant, and he had 
 the easy self-confidence of a person sure of himself in 
 the world. She put him down as a colonial perhaps 
 an American but his rank in life mystified her. 
 
 " This seems the queerest stretch of country," he 
 went on; "long spits of sand jutting right out into 
 the sea, dikes and creeks miles and miles of them.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 69 
 
 Now, I wonder, is it low tide or high ? Low, I should 
 think, because of the sea-shine on the sand there." 
 
 She glanced out of the window. 
 
 " The tide," she told him, " is almost at its lowest." 
 
 " You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps? " he en- 
 quired. 
 
 " I do," she assented. 
 
 " Sort of country one might get very fond of," he 
 ventured. 
 
 She glanced at him from the depths of her grey 
 eyes. 
 
 "Do you think so?" she rejoined coldly. "For 
 my part, I hate it." 
 
 He was surprised at the unexpected emphasis of her 
 tone the first time, indeed, that she had shown any 
 signs of interest in the conversation. 
 
 " Kind of dull I suppose you find it," he remarked 
 pensively, looking out across the waste of lavender- 
 grown marshes, sand hummocks piled with seaweed, 
 and a far distant line of pebbled shore. " And yet, 
 I don't know. I have lived by the sea a good deal, 
 and however monotonous it may seem at first, there's 
 always plenty of change, really. Tide and wind do 
 such wonderful work." 
 
 She, too, was looking out now towards the sea. 
 
 " Oh, it isn't exactly that," she said quietly. " I 
 am quite willing to admit what all the tourists and 
 chance visitors call the fascination of these places. I 
 happen to dislike them, that is all. Perhaps it is be- 
 cause I live here, because I see them day by day ; per- 
 haps because the sight of them and the thought of 
 them have become woven into my life." 
 
 She was talking half to herself. For. a moment,
 
 70 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 even the knowledge of his presence had escaped her. 
 Hamel, however, did not realise that fact. He wel- 
 comed her confidence as a sign of relaxation from the 
 frigidity of her earlier demeanour. 
 
 " That seems hard," he observed sympathetically. 
 " It seems odd to hear you talk like that, too. Your 
 life, surely, ought to be pleasant enough." 
 
 She looked away from the sea into his face. Al- 
 though the genuine interest which she saw there and 
 the kindly expression of his eyes disarmed annoyance, 
 she still stiffened slightly. 
 
 "Why ought it?" 
 
 The question was a little bewildering. 
 
 " Why, because you are young and a girl," he re- 
 plied. " It's natural to be cheerful, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Is it? " she answered listlessly. " I cannot tell. 
 I have not had much experience." 
 
 " How old are you? " he asked bluntly. 
 
 This time it certainly seemed as though her reply 
 would contain some rebuke for his curiosity. She 
 glanced once more into his face, however, and the in- 
 stinctive desire to administer that well-deserved snub 
 passed away. He was so obviously interested, his 
 question was asked so naturally, that its spice of im- 
 pertinence was as though it had not existed. 
 
 " I am twenty-one," she told him. 
 
 " And how long have you lived here ? " 
 
 " Since I left boarding-school, four years ago." 
 
 " Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself 
 for a time, I wonder? " he went on. 
 
 " That depends," she replied. " Our only neigh- 
 bours are the Lorneybrookes of Market Burnham. 
 Are you going there? "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 71 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " I've got a little shanty of my own," he explained, 
 " quite close to St. David's Station. I've never even 
 seen it yet." 
 
 She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity. 
 
 " Where is this shanty, as you call it ? " she asked 
 him. 
 
 " I really haven't the faintest idea," he replied. 
 " I am looking for it now. All I can tell you is that it 
 stands just out of reach of the full tides, on a piece of 
 rock, dead on the beach and about a mile from the 
 station. It was built originally for -a coastguard sta- 
 tion and meant to hold a lifeboat, but they found they 
 could never launch the lifeboat when they had it, so 
 the man to whom all the foreshore and most of the 
 land around here belongs a Mr. Fentolin, I believe 
 sold it to my father. I expect the place has 
 tumbled to pieces by this time, but I thought I'd have 
 a look at it." 
 
 She was gazing at him steadfastly now, with parted 
 lips. 
 
 " What is your name ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Richard Hamel." 
 
 " Hamel." 
 
 She repeated it lingeringly. It seemed quite un- 
 familiar. 
 
 " Was your father a great friend of Mr. Fentolin's, 
 then? " she asked. 
 
 *' I believe so, in a sort of way," he answered. 
 " My father was Hamel the artist, you know. They 
 made him an R.A. some time before he died. He used 
 to come out here and live in a tent. Then Mr. Fento- 
 lin let him use this place and finally sold it to him.
 
 72 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 My father used often to speak to me about it before 
 he died." 
 
 " Tell me," she enquired, " I do not know much 
 about these matters, but have you any papers to prove 
 that it was sold to your father and that you have the 
 right to occupy it now when you choose ? " 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " Of course I have," he assured her. " As a matter 
 of fact, as none of us have been here for so long, I 
 thought I'd better bring the title-deed, or Avhatever 
 they call it, along with me. It's with the rest of my 
 traps at Norwich. Oh, the place belongs to me, right 
 enough ! " he went on, smiling. " Don't tell me that 
 any one's pulled it down, or that it's disappeared 
 from the face of the earth? " 
 
 " No," she said, " it still remains there. When 
 we are round the next curve, I think I can show it to 
 you. But every one has forgotten, I think, that it 
 doesn't belong to Mr. Fentolin still. He uses it him- 
 self very often." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 She looked at her questioner quite steadfastly, 
 quite quietly, speechlessly. A curious uneasiness 
 crept into his thoughts. There were mysterious 
 things in her face. He knew from that moment that 
 she, too, directly or indirectly, was concerned with 
 those strange happenings at which Kinsley had hinted. 
 He knew that there were things which she was keeping 
 from him now. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin uses one of the rooms as a studio. 
 He likes to paint there and be near the sea, : " she ex- 
 plained. " But for the rest, I do not know. I never 
 go near the place."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 73 
 
 " I am afraid," he remarked, after a few moments of 
 silence, " that I shall be a little unpopular with Mr. 
 Fentolin. Perhaps I ought to have written first, but 
 then, of course, I had no idea that any one was mak- 
 ing use of the place." 
 
 " I do not understand," she said, " how you can 
 possibly expect to come down like this and live there, 
 without any preparation." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " You haven't any servants nor any furniture nor 
 things to cook with." 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " Oh ! I am an old campaigner," he assured her. 
 " I meant to pick up a few oddments in the village. I 
 don't suppose I shall stay very long, anyhow, but I 
 thought I'd like to have a look at the place , By-the- 
 by , what sort of a man is Mr. Fentolin ? " 
 
 Again there was that curious expression in her 
 eyes, an expression almost of secret terror, this time 
 not wholly concealed. He could have sworn that her 
 hands were cold. 
 
 " He met with an accident many years ago," she 
 said slowly. " Both his legs were amputated. He 
 spends his life in a little carriage which he wheels 
 about himself." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " Hamel exclaimed, with a strong 
 man's ready sympathy for suffering. " That is just 
 as much as I have heard about him. Is he a decent 
 sort of fellow in other ways? I suppose, anyhow, if 
 he has really taken a fancy to my little shanty, I shall 
 have to give it up." 
 
 Then, as it seemed to him, for the first time real life 
 leaped into her face. She leaned towards him. Her
 
 74 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 tone was half commanding, half imploring, her man- 
 ner entirely confidential. 
 
 " Don't ! " she begged. " It is yours. Claim it. 
 Live in it. Do anything you like with it, but take it 
 away from Mr. Fentolin ! " 
 
 Hamel was speechless. He sat a little forward, a 
 hand on either knee, his mouth ungracefully open, an 
 expression of blank and utter bewilderment in his face. 
 For the first time he began to have vague doab* 3 con- 
 cerning this young lady. Everything about her had 
 been so strange: her quiet entrance into the carriage, 
 her unusual manner of talking, and finally this last 
 passionate, inexplicable appeal. 
 
 " I am afraid," he said at last, " I don't quite un- 
 derstand. You say the poor fellow has taken a fancy 
 to the pb.ce and likes being there. Well, it isn't much 
 of a catch for me, anyway. I'm rather a wanderer, 
 and I dare say I shan't be back in these parts again 
 for years. Why shouldn't I let him have it if he wants 
 it ? It's no loss to me. I'm not a painter, you know, 
 like my father." 
 
 She seemed on the point of making a further appeal. 
 Her lips, even, were parted, her head a little thrown 
 back. And then she stopped. She said nothing. 
 The silence lasted so long that he became almost em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 " You will forgive me if I am a little dense, won't 
 you? " he begged. " To tell you the truth," he went 
 on, smiling, " I've got a sort of feeling that I'd like 
 to do anything you ask me. Now won't you just ex- 
 plain a little more clearly what you mean, and I'll blow 
 up the old place sky high, if it's any pleasure to 
 you."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 75 
 
 She seemed suddenly to have reverted to her former 
 self the cold and colourless young woman who had 
 first taken the seat opposite to his. 
 
 " Mine was a very foolish request," she admitted 
 quietly. " I am sorry that I ever made it. It was 
 just an impulse, because the little building we were 
 speaking of has been connected with one or two very 
 disagreeable episodes. Nevertheless, it was foolish of 
 me. How long did you think of staying there that 
 is," she added, with a faint smile, " providing that you 
 find it possible to prove your claim and take up pos- 
 session? " 
 
 " Oh, just for a week or so," he answered lightly, 
 " and as to regaining possession of it," he went on, a 
 slightly pugnacious instinct stirring him, " I don't 
 imagine that there'll be any difficulty about that." 
 
 " Really ! " she murmured. 
 
 " Not that I want to make myself disagreeable," he 
 continued, " but the Tower is mine, right enough, even 
 if I have let it remain unoccupied for some time." 
 
 She let down the window a task in which he 
 hastened to assist her. A rush of salt, cold air swept 
 into the compartment. He sniffed it eagerly. 
 
 " Wonderful ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 She stretched out a long arm and pointed. Away 
 in the distance, on the summit of a line of pebbled 
 shore, standing, as it seemed, sheer over the sea, was a 
 little black speck. 
 
 " That," she said, " is the Tower." 
 
 He changed his position and leaned out of the 
 window. 
 
 " Well, it's a queer little place," he remarked. " It 
 doesn't look worth quarrelling over, does it? "
 
 76 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " And that," she went on, directing his attention to 
 the hill, " is Mr. Fentolin's home, St. David's Hall." 
 
 For several moments he made no remark at all. 
 There was something curiously impressive in that sud- 
 den sweep up from the sea-line ; the strange, miniature 
 mountain standing in the middle of the marshes, with 
 its tree-crowned background; and the long, weather- 
 beaten front of the house turned bravely to the sea. 
 
 " I never saw anything like it," he declared. 
 " Why, it's barely a quarter of a mile from the sea, 
 isn't it? " 
 
 " A little more than that. It is a strangely situ- 
 ated abode, isn't it? " 
 
 " Wonderful ! " he agreed, with emphasis. " I 
 must study the geological formation of that hill," he 
 continued, with interest. " Why, it looks almost like 
 an island now." 
 
 " That is because of the floods," she told him. 
 " Even at high tide the creeks never reach so far as the 
 back there. All the water you see stretching away 
 inland is flood water the result of the storm, I sup- 
 pose. This is where you get out," she concluded, ris- 
 ing to her feet. 
 
 She turned away with the slightest nod. A maid 
 was already awaiting her at the door of the compart- 
 ment. Hamel was suddenly conscious of the fact that 
 he disliked her going immensely. 
 
 " We shall, perhaps, meet again during the next 
 few days," he remarked. 
 
 She half turned her head. Her expression was 
 scarcely encouraging. 
 
 " I hope," she said, " that you will not be disap- 
 pointed in your quarters."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 77 
 
 Hamel followed her slowly on to the platform, saw 
 her escorted to a very handsome motor-car by an obse- 
 quious station-master, and watched the former disap- 
 pear down the stretch of straight road which led to the 
 hill. Then, with a stick in one hand, and the hand- 
 bag which was his sole luggage in the other, he left 
 the station and turned seaward.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, surrounded by his satellites, was 
 seated in his chair before the writing-table. There 
 were present in the room most of the people important 
 to him in his somewhat singular life. A few feet 
 away, in characteristic attitude, stood Meekins. 
 Doctor Sarson, with his hands behind him, was looking 
 out of the window. At the further end of the table 
 stood a confidential telegraph clerk, who was just de- 
 parting with a little sheaf of messages. By his side, 
 with a notebook in her hand, stood Mr. Fentolin's 
 private secretary a white-haired woman, with a 
 strangely transparent skin and light brown eyes, 
 dressed in somber black, a woman who might have been 
 of any age from thirty to fifty. Behind her was a 
 middle-aged man whose position in the household no 
 one was quite sure about a clean-shaven man whose 
 name was Ryan, and who might very well have been 
 once an actor or a clergyman. In the background 
 stood Henderson, the perfect butler. 
 
 " It is perhaps opportune," Mr. Fentolin said 
 quietly, " that you all whom I trust should be present 
 here together. I wish you to understand one thing. 
 You have, I believe, in my employ learned the gift of 
 silence. It is to be exercised with regard to a certain 
 visitor brought here by my nephew, a visitor whom I 
 regret to say is now lying seriously ill." 
 
 There was absolute silence. Doctor Sarson alone
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 79 
 
 turned from the window as though about to speak, but 
 met Mr. Fentolin's eje and at once resumed his po- 
 sition. 
 
 " I rely upon you all," Mr. Fentolin continued 
 softly. " Henderson, you, perhaps, have the most 
 difficult task, for you have the servants to control. 
 Nevertheless, I rely upon you, also. If one word of 
 this visitor's presence here leaks out even so far as the 
 village, out they go, every one of them. I will not 
 have a servant in the place who does not respect my 
 wishes. You can give any reason you like for my 
 orders. It is a whim. I have whims, and I choose to 
 pay for them. You are all better paid than any 
 man breathing could pay you. In return I ask only 
 for your implicit obedience." 
 
 He stretched out his hand and took a cigarette from 
 a curiously carved ivory box which stood by his side. 
 He tapped it gently upon the table and looked up. 
 
 " I think, sir," Henderson said respectfully, " that 
 I can answer for the servants. Being mostly foreign- 
 ers, they see little or nothing of the village peo- 
 ple." 
 
 No one else made any remark. It was strange to 
 see how dominated they all were by that queer little 
 fragment of humanity, whose head scarcely reached a 
 foot above the table before which he sat. They de- 
 parted silently, almost abjectly, dismissed with a 
 single wave of the hand. Mr. Fentolin beckoned his 
 secretary to remain. She came a little nearer. 
 
 " Sit down, Lucy," he ordered. 
 
 She seated herself a few feet away from him. Mr. 
 Fentolin watched her for several moments. He him- 
 self had his back to the light. The woman, on the
 
 8o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 other hand, was facing it. The windows were high, 
 and the curtains were drawn back to their fullest ex- 
 tent. A cold stream of northern light fell upon her 
 face. Mr. Fentolin gazed at her and nodded his 
 head slightly. 
 
 " My dear Lucy," he declared, " you are wonder- 
 ful a perfect cameo, a gem. To look at you now, 
 with your delightful white hair and your flawless 
 skin, one would never believe that you had ever 
 spoken a single angry word, that you had ever felt 
 the blood flow through your veins, or that your eyes 
 had ever looked upon the gentle things of life." 
 
 She looked at him, still without speech. The im- 
 mobility of her face was indeed a marvellous thing. 
 Mr. Fentolin's expression darkened. 
 
 " Sometimes," he murmured softly, " I think that 
 if I had strong fingers really strong fingers, you 
 know, Lucy I should want to take you by the 
 throat and hold you tighter and tighter, until your 
 breath came fast, and your eyes came out from their 
 shadows." 
 
 She turned over a few pages of her notebook. To 
 all appearance she had not heard a word. 
 
 " To-day," she announced, " is the fourth of 
 April. Shall I send out the various checks to those 
 men in Paris, New York, Frankfort, St. Petersburg, 
 and Tokio?" 
 
 " You can send the checks," he told her. " Be 
 sure that you draw them, as usual, upon the Credit 
 Lyonaise and in the name you know of. Say to 
 Lebonaitre of Paris that you consider his last re- 
 ports faulty. No mention was made of Monsieur 
 C's visit to the Russian Embassy, or of the supper
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 81 
 
 party given to the Baron von Erlstein by a certain 
 Russian gentleman. Warn him, if you please, that 
 reports with such omissions are useless to me." 
 
 She wrote a few words in her book. 
 
 " You made a note of that ? " 
 
 She raised her head. 
 
 " I do not make mistakes," she said. 
 
 His eyebrows were drawn together. This was his 
 work, he told himself, this magnificent physical sub- 
 jection. Yet his inability to stir her sometimes mad- 
 dened him. 
 
 "You know who is in this house?" he asked. 
 " You know the name of my unknown guest? " 
 
 " I know nothing," she replied. " His presence 
 does not interest me." 
 
 " Supposing I desire you to know? " he persisted, 
 leaning a little forward. " Supposing I tell you that 
 it is your duty to know? " 
 
 " Then," she said, " I should tell you that I be- 
 lieve him to be the special envoy from New York 
 to The Hague, or whatever place on the Continent 
 this coming conference is to be held at." 
 
 " Right, woman ! " Mr. Fentolin answered sharply. 
 " Right ! It is the special envoy. He has his man- 
 date with him. I have them both the man and his 
 mandate. Can you guess what I am going to do 
 with them?" 
 
 " It is not difficult," she replied. " Your methods 
 are scarcely original. His mandate to the flames, 
 and his body to the sea ! " 
 
 She raised her eyes as she spoke and looked over 
 Mr. Fentolin's shoulder, across the marshland to the 
 grey stretch of ocean. Her eyes became fixed. It
 
 82 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 was not possible to say that they held any expres- 
 sion, and yet one felt that she saw beneath the grey 
 waves, even to the rocks and caverns below. 
 
 " It does not terrify you, then," he asked curiously, 
 " to think that a man under this roof is about to 
 die? " 
 
 "Why should it?" she retorted. "Death does 
 not frighten me my own or anybody else's. Does 
 it frighten you? " 
 
 His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce 
 anger. His lips twitched. He struck the table be- 
 fore him. 
 
 " Beast of a woman ! " he shouted. " You ghoul J 
 How dare you ! How dare you " 
 
 He stopped short. He passed his hand across his 
 forehead. All the time the woman remained un- 
 moved. 
 
 " Do you know," he muttered, his voice still shak- 
 ing a little, " that I believe sometimes I am afraid 
 of you? How would you like to see me there, eh, 
 down at the bottom of that hungry sea? You watch 
 sometimes so fixedly. You'd miss me, wouldn't you? 
 I am a good master, you know. I pay well. You've 
 been with me a good many years. You were a dif- 
 ferent sort of woman when you first came." 
 
 " Yes," she admitted, " I was a different sort of 
 
 " You don't remember those days, I suppose," he 
 went on, " the days when you had brown hair, when 
 you used to carry roses about and sing to yourself 
 while you beat your work out of that wretched type- 
 writer? " 
 
 " No," she answered, " I do not remember those
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 83 
 
 days. They do not belong to me. It is some other 
 woman you are thinking of." 
 
 Their eyes met. Mr. Fentolin turned away first. 
 He struck the bell at his elbow. She rose at once. 
 
 " Be off ! " he ordered. " When you look at me 
 like that, you send shivers through me ! You'll have 
 to go ; I can see you'll have to go. I can't keep you 
 any longer. You are the only person on the face of 
 the earth who dares to say things to me which make 
 me think, the only person who doesn't shrink at the 
 sound of my voice. You'll have to go. Send Sar- 
 son to me at once. You've upset me ! " 
 
 She listened to his words in expressionless silence. 
 When he had finished, carrying her book in her 
 hand, she very quietly moved towards the door. He 
 watched her, leaning a little forward in his chair, his 
 lips parted, his eyes threatening. She walked with 
 steady, even footsteps. She carried herself with al- 
 most machine-like erectness ; her skirts were noiseless. 
 She had the trick of turning the handle of the door in 
 perfect silence. He heard her calm voice in the 
 hall. 
 
 " Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse. 
 
 " That woman," he muttered to himself, " that 
 woman some day I shouldn't be surprised if she 
 really " 
 
 He paused. The doctor had entered the room. 
 
 " I am upset, Sarson," he declared. " Come and 
 feel my pulse quickly. That woman has upset me." 
 
 "Miss Price?" 
 
 " Miss Price, d n it ! Lucy yes ! " 
 
 " It seems unlike her," the doctor remarked. " I
 
 8 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 have never heard her utter a useless syllable in my 
 life." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. 
 
 " It's what she doesn't say," he muttered. 
 
 The doctor produced his watch. In less than a 
 minute he put it away. 
 
 " This is quite unnecessary," he pronounced. 
 " Your pulse is wonderful." 
 
 " Not hurried? No signs of palpitation? " 
 
 " You have seven or eight footmen, all young 
 men," Doctor Sarson replied drily. " I will wager 
 that there isn't one of them has a pulse so vigorous 
 as yours." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair. An 
 expression of satisfaction crept over his face. 
 
 " You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is ex- 
 cellent. What of our patient ? " 
 
 " There is no change." 
 
 " I am afraid," Mr. Fentolin sighed, " that we 
 shall have trouble with him. These strong people 
 always give trouble." 
 
 " It will be just the same in the long run," the 
 doctor remarked, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. 
 
 " Listen ! A motor-car, I believe ? " 
 
 " It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving," the 
 doctor announced. " I saw the car coming as I 
 crossed the hall." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. 
 
 "Indeed?" he replied. "Indeed? So my dear 
 niece has returned. Open the door, friend Sarson. 
 Open the door, if you please. She will be anxious 
 to see me. We must summon her."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Mr. Fentolin raised to his lips the little gold whis- 
 tle which hung from his neck and blew it. He seemed 
 to devote very little effort to the operation, yet the 
 strength of the note was wonderful. As the echoes 
 died away, he let it fall by his side and waited with 
 a pleased smile upon his lips. In a few seconds 
 there was the hurried flutter of skirts and the sound 
 of footsteps. The girl who had just completed her 
 railway journey entered, followed by her brother. 
 They were both a little out of breath, they both ap- 
 proached the chair without a smile, the girl in ad- 
 vance, with a certain expression of apprehension in 
 her eyes. Mr. Fentolin sighed. He appeared to 
 notice these things and regret them. 
 
 " My child," he said, holding out his hands, " my 
 dear Esther, welcome home again! I heard the car 
 outside. I am grieved that you did not at once 
 hurry to my side." 
 
 " I have not been in the house two minutes," Esther 
 replied, " and I haven't seen mother yet. Forgive 
 me." ', 
 
 She had come to a standstill a few yards away. 
 She moved now very slowly towards the chair, with 
 the air of one fulfilling a hateful task. The fingers 
 which accepted his hands were extended almost hesi- 
 tatingly. He drew her closer to him and held her 
 there.
 
 86 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Your mother, my dear Esther, is, I regret to say, 
 suffering from a slight indisposition," he remarked. 
 " She has been confined to her room for the last few 
 days. Just a trifling affair of the nerves; nothing 
 more, Doctor Sarson assures me. But my dear 
 child," he went on, " your fingers are as cold as ice. 
 You look at me so strangely, too. Alas! you have 
 not the affectionate disposition of your dear mother. 
 One would scarcely believe that we have been parted 
 for more than a week." 
 
 " For more than a week," she repeated, under her 
 breath. 
 
 " Stoop down, my dear. I must kiss your fore- 
 head there! Now bring up a chair to my side. 
 You seem frightened alarmed. Have you ill news 
 for me ? " 
 
 " I have no news," she answered, gradually re- 
 covering herself. 
 
 " The gaieties of London, I fear," he protested 
 gently, " have proved a little unsettling." 
 
 " There were no gaieties for me," the girl replied 
 bitterly. " Mrs. Sargent obeyed your orders very 
 faithfully. I was not allowed to move out except 
 with her." 
 
 " My dear child, you would not go about London 
 unchaperoned ! " 
 
 '' There is a difference," she retorted, " between a 
 chaperon and a jailer." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. 
 He seemed pained. 
 
 " I am not sure that you repay my care as it de- 
 serves, Esther," he declared. " There is something 
 in your deportment which disappoints me. Never
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 87 
 
 mind, your brother has made some atonement. I en- 
 trusted him with a little mission in which I am glad 
 to say that he has been brilliantly successful." 
 
 " I cannot say that I am glad to hear it," Esther 
 replied quietly. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long 
 fingers played nervously together, he looked at her 
 gravely. 
 
 " My dear child," he exclaimed, in a tone of pained 
 surprise, " your attitude distresses me ! " 
 
 " I cannot help it. I have told you what I think 
 about Gerald and the life he is compelled to live here. 
 I don't mind so much for myself, but for him I think 
 it is abominable." 
 
 " The same as ever," Mr. Fentolin sighed. " I fear 
 that this little change has done you no good, dear 
 niece." 
 
 " Change ! " she echoed. " It was only a change 
 of prisons." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly a distress- 
 ful gesture. Yet all the time he had somehow the 
 air of a man secretly gratified. 
 
 " You are beginning to depress me," he announced. 
 " I think that you can go away. No, stop for just 
 one moment. Stand there in the light. Dear me, 
 how unfortunate! Who would have thought that 
 so beautiful a mother could have so plain a daugh- 
 ter!" 
 
 She stood quite still before him, her hands crossed 
 in front of her, something of the look of the nun 
 from whom the power of suffering has gone in her 
 still, cold face and steadfast eyes. 
 
 " Not a touch of colour," he continued meditatively,
 
 88 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " a figure straight as my walking-stick. What a 
 pity! And all the taste, nowadays, they tell me, is 
 in the other direction. The lank damsels have gone 
 completely out. We buried them with Oscar Wilde. 
 Run along, my dear child. You do not amuse me. 
 You can take Gerald with you, if you will. I have 
 nothing to say to Gerald just now. He is in my good 
 books. Is there anything I can do for you, Gerald? 
 Your allowance, for instance a trifling increase or 
 an advance? I am in a generous humour." 
 
 " Then grant me what I begged for the other day," 
 the boy answered quickly. " Let me go to Sand- 
 hurst. I could enter my name next week for the ex- 
 aminations, and I could pass to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin tapped the table thoughtfully with his 
 forefinger. 
 
 " A little ungrateful, my dear boy," he declared, 
 " a little ungrateful that, I think. Your confidence 
 in yourself pleases me, though. You think you could 
 pass your examinations? " 
 
 " I did a set of papers last week," the boy replied. 
 " On the given percentages I came out twelfth or 
 better. Mr. Brown assured me that I could go in for 
 them at any moment. He promised to write you 
 about it before he left." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. 
 
 " Now I come to think of it, I did have a letter from 
 Mr. Brown," he remarked. " Rather an impertinence 
 for a tutor, I thought it. He devoted three pages 
 towards impressing upon me the necessity of your 
 adopting some sort of a career." 
 
 " He wrote because he thought it was his duty," 
 the boy said doggedly.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 89 
 
 " So you want to be a soldier," Mr. Fentolin con- 
 tinued musingly. " Well, well, why not ? Our pic- 
 ture galleries are full of them. There has been a 
 Fentolin in every great battle for the last five hun- 
 dred years. Sailors, too plenty of them and 
 just a few diplomatists. Brave fellows! Not one, I 
 fancy," he added, " like me not one condemned to 
 pass their days in a perambulator. You are a fine 
 fellow, Gerald a regular Fentolin. Getting on for 
 six feet, aren't you? " 
 
 " Six feet two, sir." 
 
 " A very fine fellow," Mr. Fentolin repeated. " I 
 am not so sure about the army, Gerald. You see, 
 there are some people who say, like your American 
 friend, that we are even now almost on the brink of 
 war." 
 
 "All the more reason for me to hurry," the boy 
 begged. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes. 
 
 " Don't ! " he insisted. " Have you ever stopped 
 to think what war means the war you speak of so 
 lightly? The suffering, the misery of it! All the 
 pageantry and music and heroism in front ; and be- 
 hind, a blackened world, a trail of writhing corpses, 
 a world of weeping women for whom the sun shall 
 never rise again. Ugh ! An ugly thing war, Gerald. 
 I am not sure that you are not better at home here. 
 Why not practise golf a little more assiduously? I 
 see from the local paper that you are still playing at 
 two handicap. Now with your physique, I should 
 have thought you would have been a scratch player 
 long before now." 
 
 " I play cricket, sir," the boy reminded him, a
 
 9 o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 little impatiently, "and, after all, there are other 
 things in the world besides games." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's long finger shot suddenly out. He 
 was leaning a little from his chair. His expression of 
 gentle immobility had passed away. His face was 
 stern, almost stony. 
 
 "You have spoken the truth, Gerald," he said. 
 " There are other things in the world besides games. 
 There is the real, the tragical side of life, the duties 
 one takes up, the obligations of honour. You have 
 not forgotten, young man, the burden you carry? " 
 
 The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to 
 his full height. 
 
 " I have not forgotten, sir," he answered bitterly. 
 " Do I show any signs of forgetting? Haven't I done 
 your bidding year by year? Aren't I here now to 
 do it?" 
 
 " Then do it ! " Mr. Fentolin retorted sharply. 
 " When I am ready for you to leave here, you shall 
 leave. Until then, you are mine. Remember that. 
 Ah ! this is Doctor Sarson who comes, I believe. That 
 must mean that it is five o'clock. Come in, Doctor. 
 I am not engaged. You see, I am alone with my dear 
 niece and nephew. We have been having a little 
 pleasant conversation." 
 
 Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely 
 glanced at him. He remained in the background, 
 quietly waiting. 
 
 "A very delightful little conversation," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin concluded. " I have been congratulating my 
 nephew, Doctor, upon his wisdom in preferring the 
 quiet country life down here to the wearisome routine 
 of a profession. He escapes the embarrassing choice
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 91 
 
 of a career by preferring to devote his life to my com- 
 fort. I shall not forget it. I shall not be ungrate- 
 ful. I may have my faults, but I am not ungrateful. 
 Run away now, both of you. Dear children you are, 
 but one wearies, you know, of everything. I am 
 going out. You see, the twilight is coming. The 
 tide is changing. I am going down to meet the sea." 
 
 His little carriage moved towards the door. The 
 brother and sister passed out. Esther led Gerald into 
 the great dining-room, and from there, through the 
 open windows, out on to the terrace. She gripped his 
 shoulder and pointed down to the Tower. 
 
 " Something," she whispered in his ear, " is going 
 to happen there."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 The little station at which Hamel alighted was like 
 an oasis in the middle of a flat stretch of sand and 
 marsh. It consisted only of a few raised planks 
 and a rude shelter built, indeed, for the convenience 
 of St. David's Hall alone, for the nearest village was 
 two miles away. The station-master, on his return 
 from escorting the young lady to her car, stared at 
 this other passenger in some surprise. 
 
 " Which way to the sea ? " Hamel asked. 
 
 The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. 
 
 " You can take any of those paths you like, sir," 
 he said. " If you want to get to Salthouse, though, 
 you should have got out at the next station." 
 
 " This will do for me," Hamel replied cheerfully. 
 
 " Be careful of the dikes," the station-master ad- 
 vised him. " Some of them are pretty deep." 
 
 Hamel nodded, and passing through the white 
 gates, made his way by a raised cattle track towards 
 the sea. On either side of him flowed a narrow dike 
 filled with salt-water. Beyond stretched the flat 
 marshland, its mossy turf leavened with cracks and 
 creeks of all widths, filled also with sea-slime and sea- 
 water. A slight grey mist rested upon the more dis- 
 tant parts of the wilderness which he was crossing, 
 a mist which seemed to be blown in from the sea in 
 little puffs, resting for a time upon the earth, and then 
 drifting up and fading away like soap bubbles.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 93 
 
 More than once where the dikes had overflown he 
 was compelled to change his course, but he arrived 
 at last at the little ridge of pebbled beach bordering 
 the sea. Straight ahead of him now was that strange- 
 looking building towards which he had all the time 
 been directing his footsteps. As he approached it, his 
 forehead slightly contracted. There was ample con- 
 firmation before him of the truth of his fellow-pas- 
 senger's words. The place, left to itself for so many 
 years, without any attention from its actual owner, 
 was neither deserted nor in ruins. Its solid grey 
 stone walls were sea-stained and a trifle worn, but 
 the arched wooden doors leading into the lifeboat 
 shelter, which occupied one side of the building, had 
 been newly painted, and in the front the window was 
 hung with a curtain, now closely drawn, of some dark 
 red material. The lock from the door had been re- 
 moved altogether, and in its place was the aperture 
 for a Yale latch-key. The last note of modernity 
 was supplied by the telephone wire attached to the 
 roof of the lifeboat shelter. He walked all round 
 the building, seeking in vain for some other means 
 of ingress. Then he stood for a few moments in 
 front of the curtained window. He was a man of 
 somewhat determined disposition, and he found him- 
 self vaguely irritated by the liberties which had been 
 taken with his property. He hammered gently upon 
 the framework with his fist, and the windows opened 
 readily inwards, pushing back the curtain with them. 
 He drew himself up on to the sill, and, squeezing him- 
 self through the opening, landed on his feet and 
 looked around him, a little breathless. 
 
 He found himself in a simply furnished man's sit-
 
 94 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 ting-room. An easel was standing close to the win' 
 dow. There were reams of drawing paper and several 
 unfinished sketches leaning against the wall. There 
 was a small oak table in the middle of the room; 
 against the wall stood an Exquisite chiffonier, on which 
 were resting some cut-glass decanters and goblets. 
 There was a Turkey carpet upon the floor which 
 matched the curtains, but to his surprise there was 
 not a single chair of any sort to be seen. The walls 
 had been distempered and were hung with one or two 
 engravings which, although he was no judge, he was 
 quite sure were good. He wandered into the back 
 room, where he found a stove, a tea-service upon a 
 deal table, and several other cooking utensils, all spot- 
 lessly clean and of the most expensive description. 
 The walls here were plainly whitewashed, and the floor 
 was of hard stone. He then tried the door on the 
 left, which led into the larger portion of the building 
 the shed in which the lifeboat had once been kept. 
 Not only was the door locked, but he saw at once 
 that the lock was modern, and the door itself was 
 secured with heavy iron clamps. He returned to the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 " The girl with the grey eyes was right enough," 
 he remarked to himself. " Mr. Fentolin has been 
 making himself very much at home with my prop- 
 erty." 
 
 He withdrew the curtains, noticing, to his surprise, 
 the heavy shutters which their folds had partly con- 
 cealed. Then he made his way out along the passage 
 to the front door, which from the inside he was able 
 to open easily enough. Leaving it carefully ajar, he 
 went out with the intention of making an examination
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 95 
 
 of the outside of the place. Instead, however, he 
 paused at the corner of the building with his face 
 turned landwards. Exactly fronting him now, about 
 three-quarters of a mile away, on the summit of that 
 strange hill which stood out like a gigantic rock 
 in the wilderness, was St. David's Hall. He looked 
 at it steadily and with increasing admiration. Its 
 long, red brick front with its masses of clustering 
 chimneys, a little bare and weather-beaten, impressed 
 him with a sense of dignity due as much to the purity 
 of its architecture as the singularity of its situation. 
 Behind a wonderfully effective background were 
 the steep gardens from which, even in this uncertain 
 light, he caught faint glimpses of colouring subdued 
 from brilliancy by the twilight. These were encir- 
 cled by a brick wall of great height, the whole of 
 the southern portion of which was enclosed with glass. 
 From the fragment of rock upon which he had seated 
 himself, to the raised stone terrace in front of the 
 house, was an absolutely straight path, beautifully 
 kept like an avenue, with white posts on either side, 
 and built up to a considerable height above the broad 
 tidal way which ran for some distance by its side. 
 It had almost the appearance of a racing track, and 
 its state of preservation in the midst of the wilderness 
 was little short of remarkable. 
 
 " This," Hamel said to himself, as he slowly pro- 
 duced a pipe from his pocket and began to fill it with 
 tobacco from a battered silver box, " is a queer fix. 
 Looks rather like the inn for me ! " 
 
 " And who might you be, gentleman ? " 
 He turned abruptly around towards his unseen 
 questioner. A woman was standing by the side of
 
 9 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 the rock upon which he was sitting, a woman from the 
 village, apparently, who must have come with noise- 
 less footsteps along the sandy way. She was dressed 
 in rusty black, and in place of a hat she wore a black 
 woolen scarf tied around her head and underneath 
 her chin. Her face was lined, her hair of a deep 
 brown plentifully besprinkled with grey. She had a 
 curious habit of moving her lips, even when she was 
 not speaking. She stood there smiling at him, but 
 there was something about that smile and about her 
 look which puzzled him. 
 
 " I am just a visitor," he replied. " Who are 
 you? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I saw you come out of the Tower," she said, 
 speaking with a strong local accent and yet with a 
 certain unusual correctness, " in at the window and 
 out of the door. You're a brave man." 
 
 " Why brave ? " he asked. 
 
 She turned her head very slowly towards St. David's 
 Hall. A gleam of sunshine had caught one of the 
 windows, which shone like fire. She pointed towards 
 it with her head. 
 
 " He's looking at you," she muttered. " He don't 
 like strangers poking around here, that I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " And who is he? " Hamel enquired. 
 
 " Squire Fentolin," she answered, dropping her 
 voice a little. " He's a very kind-hearted gentleman, 
 Squire Fentolin, but he don't like strangers hanging 
 around." 
 
 '' Well, I am not exactly a stranger, you see," 
 Hamel remarked. " My father used to stay for
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 97 
 
 months at a time in that little shanty there and paint 
 pictures. It's a good many years ago." 
 
 " I mind him," the woman said slowly. " His name 
 was Hamel." 
 
 " I am his son," Hamel announced. 
 
 She pointed to the Hall. " Does he know that you 
 are here? " 
 
 Hamel shook his head. " Not yet. I have been 
 abroad for so long." 
 
 She suddenly relapsed into her curious habit. Her 
 lips moved, but no words came. She had turned her 
 head a little and was facing the sea. 
 
 " Tell me," Hamel asked gently, " why do you 
 come out here alone, so far from the village? " 
 
 She pointed with her finger to where the waves were 
 breaking in a thin line of white, about fifty yards 
 from the beach. 
 
 " It's the cemetery, that," she said, " the village 
 cemetery, you know. I have three buried there: 
 George, the eldest ; James, the middle one ; and David, 
 the youngest. Three of them that's why I come. 
 I can't put flowers on their graves, but I can sit and 
 watch and look through the sea, down among the 
 rocks where their bodies are, and wonder." 
 
 Hamel looked at her curiously. Her voice had 
 grown lower and lower. 
 
 " It's what you land folks 4<>n't believe, perhaps," 
 she went on, " but it's true. It's only us who live 
 near the sea who understand it. I am not an igno- 
 rant body, either. I was schoolmistress here before 
 I married David Cox. They thought I'd done wrong 
 to marry a fisherman, but I bore him brave sons, 
 and I lived the life a woman craves for. No, I am not
 
 9 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 ignorant. I have fancies, perhaps the Lord be 
 praised for them ! and I tell you it's true. You 
 look at a spot in the sea and you see nothing a 
 gleam of blue, a fleck of white foam, one day ; a gleam 
 of green with a black line, another ; and a grey little 
 sob, the next, perhaps. But you go on looking. 
 You look day by day and hour by hour, and the 
 chasms of the sea will open, and their voices will 
 come to you. Listen ! " 
 
 She clutched his arm. 
 
 "Couldn't you hear that?" she half whispered. 
 " ' The light ! ' It was David's voice ! The light ! ' " 
 
 Hamel was speechless. The woman's face was sud- 
 denly strangely transformed. Her mood, however, 
 swiftly changed. She turned once more towards the 
 hall. 
 
 " You'll know him soon," she went on, " the kindest 
 man in these parts, they say. It's not much that 
 he gives away, but he's a kind heart. You see that 
 great post at the entrance to the river there? " she 
 went on, pointing to it. " He had that set up and 
 a lamp hung from there. Fentolin's light, they call 
 it. It was to save men's lives. It was burning, they 
 say, the night I lost my lads. Fentolin's light ! " 
 
 " They were wrecked ? " he asked her gently. 
 
 " Wrecked," she answered. " Bad steering it must 
 have been. James would steer, and they say that he 
 drank a bit. Bad steering ! Yes, you'll meet Squire 
 Fentolin before long. He's queer to look at a 
 small body but a great, kind heart. A miserable life, 
 his, but it will be made up to him. It will be made 
 up to him ! " 
 
 She turned away. Her lips were moving all the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 99 
 
 time. She walked about a dozen steps, and then she 
 returned. 
 
 " You're Hamel's son, the painter," she said. 
 " You'll be welcome down here. He'll have you to 
 stay at the Hall a brave place. Don't let him be 
 too kind to you. Sometimes kindness hurts." 
 
 She passed on, walking with a curious, shambling 
 gait, and soon she disappeared on her way to the 
 village. Hamel watched her for a moment and then 
 turned his head towards St. David's Hall. He felt 
 somehow that her abrupt departure was due to some- 
 thing which she had seen in that direction. He rose 
 to his feet. His instinct had been a true one.
 
 CHAPTER XH 
 
 From where Hamel stood a queer object came 
 strangely into sight. Below the terrace of St. 
 David's Hall from a spot, in fact, at the base of 
 the solid wall it seemed as though a gate had been 
 opened, and there came towards him what he at first 
 took to be a tricycle. As it came nearer, it presented 
 even a weirder appearance. Mr. Fentolin, in a black 
 cape and black skull cap, sat a little forward in his 
 electric carriage, with his hand upon the guiding 
 lever. His head came scarcely above the back of the 
 little vehicle, his hands and body were motionless. 
 He seemed to be progressing without the slightest ef- 
 fort, personal or mechanical, as though he rode, in- 
 deed, in some ghostly vehicle. From the same place 
 in the wall had issued, a moment or two later, a man 
 upon a bicycle, who was also coming towards him. 
 Hamel was scarcely conscious of this secondary fig- 
 ure. . His eyes were fixed upon the strange personage 
 now rapidly approaching him. There was something 
 which seemed scarcely human in that shrunken frag- 
 ment of body, the pale face with its waving white hair, 
 the strange expression with which he was being re- 
 garded. The little vehicle came to a standstill only a 
 few feet away. Mr. Fentolin leaned forward. His 
 features had lost their delicately benevolent aspect; 
 his words were minatory. 
 
 " I am under the impression, sir," he said, " that
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 101 
 
 I saw you with my glasses from the window, 
 attempting to force an entrance into that build- 
 
 ing." 
 
 Hamel nodded. 
 
 " I not only tried but I succeeded," he remarked. 
 " I got in through the window." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's eyes glittered for a moment. Hamel, 
 who had resumed his place upon the rock close at 
 hand, had been mixed up during his lifetime in many 
 wild escapades. Yet at that moment he had a sudden 
 feeling that there were dangers in life which as yet 
 he had not faced. 
 
 " May I ask for your explanation or your ex- 
 cuse ? " 
 
 " You can call it an explanation or an excuse, 
 whichever you like," Hamel replied steadily, " but the 
 fact is that this little building, which some one else 
 seems to have appropriated, is mine. If I had not 
 been a good-natured person, I should be engaged, at 
 the present moment, in turning out its furniture on 
 to the beach." 
 
 "What is your name?" Mr. Fentolin asked sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " My name is Hamel Richard Hamel." 
 
 For several moments there was silence. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin was still leaning forward in his strange little ve- 
 hicle. The colour seemed to have left even his lips. 
 The hard glitter in his eyes had given place to an 
 expression almost like fear. He looked at Richard 
 Hamel as though he were some strange sea-monster 
 come up from underneath the sands. 
 
 " Richard Hamel," he repeated. " Do you mean 
 that you are the son of Hamel, the R.A., who used
 
 102 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 to be in these parts so often? He was my brother's 
 friend." 
 
 " I am his son." 
 
 " But his son was killed in the San Francisco earth- 
 quake. I saw his name in all the lists. It was 
 copied into the local papers here." 
 
 Hamel knocked the ashes from his pipe. 
 
 " I take a lot of killing," he observed. " I was in 
 that earthquake, right enough, and in the hospital 
 afterwards, but it was a man named Hamel of Phil- 
 adelphia who died." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless for several mo- 
 ments. He seemed, if possible, to have shrunken 
 into something smaller still. A few yards behind, 
 Meekins had alighted from his bicycle and was stand- 
 ing waiting. 
 
 " So you are Richard Hamel," Mr. Fentolin said 
 at last very softly. " Welcome back to England, 
 Richard Hamel! I knew your father slightly, al- 
 though we were never very friendly." 
 
 He stretched out his hand from underneath the 
 coverlet of his little vehicle a hand with long, white 
 fingers, slim and white and shapely as a woman's. A 
 single ring with a dull green stone was on his fourth 
 finger. Hamel shook hands with him as he would 
 have shaken hands with a woman. Afterwards he 
 rubbed his fingers slowly together. There was some- 
 thing about the touch which worried him. 
 
 " You have been making use of this little shanty, 
 haven't you ? " he asked bluntly. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded. He was apparently begin- 
 ning to recover himself. 
 
 14 You must remember," he explained suavely, " that
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 103 
 
 it was built by my grandfather, and that we have 
 had rights over the whole of the foreshore here from 
 time immemorial. I know quite well that my brother 
 gave it to your father or rather he sold it to him 
 for a nominal sum. I must tell you that it was a most 
 complicated transaction. He had the greatest dif- 
 ficulty in getting any lawyer to draft the deed of sale. 
 There were so many ancient rights and privileges 
 which it was impossible to deal with. Even now there 
 are grave doubts as to the validity of the transaction. 
 When nothing was heard of you, and we all concluded 
 that you were dead, I ventured to take back what I 
 honestly believed to be my own. Owing," he con- 
 tinued slowly, " to my unfortunate affliction, I am 
 obliged to depend for interest in my life upon various 
 hobbies. This little place, queerly enough, has be- 
 come one of them. I have furnished it, in a way; 
 installed the telephone to the house, connected it with 
 my electric plant, and I come down here when I want 
 to be quite alone, and paint. I watch the sea such 
 a sea sometimes, such storms, such colour! You no- 
 tice that ridge of sand out yonder? It forms a sort of 
 natural breakwater. Even on the calmest day you 
 can trace that white line of foam." 
 
 " It is a strange coast," Hamel admitted. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger north- 
 wards. 
 
 " Somewhere about there," he indicated, " is the 
 entrance to the tidal river which flows up to the vil- 
 lage of St. David's yonder. You see? " 
 
 His finger traced its course until it came to a cer- 
 tain point near the beach, where a tall black pillar 
 stood, surmounted by a globe.
 
 104 THE VA-NISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I have had a light fixed there for the benefit of 
 the fishermen," he said, " a light which I work from 
 my own dynamo. Between where we are sitting now 
 and there only a little way out to sea is a 
 jagged cluster of cruel rocks. You can see them if 
 you care to swim out in calm weather. Fishermen 
 who tried to come in by night were often trapped 
 there and, in a rough sea, drowned. That is why I 
 had that pillar of light built. On stormy nights it 
 shows the exact entrance to the water causeway." 
 
 " Very kind of you indeed," Hamel remarked, 
 " very benevolent." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " So few people have any real feeling for sailors," 
 he continued. " The fishermen around here are cer- 
 tainly rather a casual class. Do you know that there 
 is scarcely one of them who can swim? There isn't 
 one of them who isn't too lazy to learn even the sim- 
 plest stroke. My brother used to say dear Gerald 
 that it served them right if they were drowned. I 
 have never been able to feel like that, Mr. Hamel. 
 Life is such a wonderful thing. One night," he went 
 on, dropping his voice and leaning a little forward in 
 his carriage " it was just before, or was it just after 
 I had fixed that light I was down here one dark 
 winter night. There was a great north wind and a 
 huge sea running. It was as black as pitch, but I 
 heard a boat making for St. David's causeway strike 
 on those rocks just hidden in front there. I heard 
 those fishermen shriek as they went under. I heard 
 their shouts for help, I heard their death cries. Very 
 terrible, Mr. Hamel ! Very terrible ! " 
 
 Hamel looked at the speaker curiously. Mr. Fen--
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 105 
 
 tolin seemed absorbed in his subject. He had spoken 
 with relish, as one who loves the things he speaks 
 about. Quite unaccountably, Hamel found himself 
 shivering. 
 
 " It was their mother," Mr. Fentolin continued, 
 leaning again a little forward in his chair, " their* 
 mother whom I saw pass along the beach just now 
 a widow, too, poor thing. She comes here often 
 a morbid taste. She spoke to you, I think? " 
 
 " She spoke to me strangely," Hamel admitted. 
 " She gave me the impression of a woman whose brain 
 had been turned with grief." 
 
 " Too true," Mr. Fentolin sighed. " The poor 
 creature ! I offered her a small pension, but she would 
 have none of it. A superior woman in her way once, 
 filled now with queer fancies," he went on, eyeing 
 Hamel steadily, " the very strangest fancies. She 
 spends her life prowling about here. No one in the 
 village even knows how she lives. Did she speak of 
 me, by-the-by ? " 
 
 " She spoke of you as being a very kind-hearted 
 man." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " The poor creature ! Well, well, let us revert to 
 the object of your coming here. Do you really wish 
 to occupy this little shanty, Mr. Hamel? " 
 
 " That was my idea," Hamel confessed. " I only 
 came back from Mexico last month, and I very soon 
 got fed up with life in town. I am going abroad 
 again next year. Till then, I am rather <at a loose 
 end. My father was always very keen indeed about 
 this place, and very anxious that I should come and 
 stay here for a little time, so I made up my mind to
 
 io6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 run down. I've got some things waiting at Norwich. 
 I thought I might hire a woman to look after me and 
 spend a few weeks here. They tell me that the early 
 spring is almost the best time for this coast." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded slowly. He moistened his lips 
 for a moment. One might have imagined that he was 
 anxious. 
 
 " Mr. Hamel," he said softly, " you are quite right. 
 It is the best time to visit this coast. But why make 
 a hermit of yourself? You are a family friend. 
 Come and stay with us at the Hall for as long as 
 you like. It will give me the utmost pleasure to wel- 
 come you there," he went on earnestly, " and as for 
 this little place, of what use is it to you? Let me 
 buy it from you. You are a man of the world, I can 
 see. You may be rich, yet money has a definite value. 
 To me it has none. That little place, as it stands, is 
 probably worth say a hundred pounds. Your 
 father gave, if I remember rightly, a five pound note 
 for it. I will give you a thousand for it sooner than 
 be disturbed." 
 
 Hamel frowned slightly. 
 
 " I could not possibly think," he said, " of selling 
 what was practically a gift to my father. You are 
 welcome to occupy the place during my absence in 
 any way you wish. On the other hand, I do not think 
 that I care to part with it altogether, and I should 
 really like to spend just a day or so here. I am used 
 to roughing it under all sorts of conditions much 
 more used to roughing it than I am to staying at 
 country houses." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin leaned a little out of his carriage. He 
 reached the younger man's shoulder with his hand.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 107 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Hamel," he pleaded, " don't make up 
 your mind too suddenly. Am I a little spoilt, I 
 wonder? Well, you see what sort of a creature I 
 am. I have to go through life as best I may, and peo- 
 ple are kind to me. It is very seldom I am crossed. 
 It is quite astonishing how often people let me have 
 my own way. Do not make up your mind too sud- 
 denly. I have a niece and a nephew whom you must 
 meet. There are some treasures, too, at St. David's 
 Hall. Look at it. There isn't another house quite 
 like it in England. It is worth looking over." 
 
 " It is most impressive," Hamel agreed, " and 
 wonderfully beautiful. It seems odd," he added, with 
 a laugh, " that you should care about this little shanty 
 here, with all the beautiful rooms you must have of 
 your own." 
 
 " It's Naboth's vineyard," Mr. Fentolin groaned. 
 " Now, Mr. Hamel, you are going to be gracious, 
 aren't you? Let us leave the question of your little 
 habitation here alone for the present. Come back 
 with me. My niece shall give you some tea, and 
 you shall choose your room from forty. You can 
 sleep in a haunted chamber, or a historical chamber, 
 in Queen Elizabeth's room, a Victorian chamber, or 
 a Louis Quinze room. All my people have spent 
 their substance in furniture. Don't look at your 
 bag. Clothes are unnecessary. I can supply you 
 with everything. Or, if you prefer it, I can send a 
 fast car into Norwich for your own things. Come 
 and be my guest, please." 
 
 Hamel hesitated. He had not the slightest desire 
 to go to St. David's Hall, and though he strove to 
 ignore it, he was conscious of an aversion of which
 
 io8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 he was heartily ashamed for this strange fragment o! 
 humanity. On the other hand, his mission, the ac- 
 tual mission which had brought him down to these 
 parts, could certainly best be served by an entree 
 into the Hall itself and there was the girl, whom 
 he felt sure belonged there. He had never for a 
 moment been able to dismiss her from his thoughts. 
 Her still, cold face, the delicate perfection of her 
 clothes and figure, the grey eyes which had rested 
 upon his so curiously, haunted him. He was des- 
 perately anxious to see her again. If he refused 
 this invitation, if he rejected Mr. Fentolin's proffered 
 friendship, it would be all the more difficult. 
 
 " You are really very kind," he began hesita- 
 tingly 
 
 " It is settled," Mr. Fentolin interrupted, " set- 
 tled. Meekins, you can ride back again. I shall 
 not paint to-day. Mr. Hamel, you will walk by my 
 side, will you not? I can run my little machine 
 quite slowly. You see, I have an electric battery. 
 It needs charging often, but I have a dynamo of my 
 own. You never saw a vehicle like this in all your 
 travellings, did you? " 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " An electrical bath-chair," Mr. Fentolin con- 
 tinued. " Practice has made me remarkably skil- 
 ful in its manipulation. You see, I can steer to an 
 inch." 
 
 He was already turning around. Hamel rose to 
 his feet. 
 
 " You are really very kind," he said. " I should 
 like to come up and see the Hall, at any rate, but in 
 the meantime, as we are here, could I just look over
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 109 
 
 the inside of this little place? I found the large 
 shed where the lifeboat used to be kept, locked up." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage. His 
 back was towards Hamel. 
 
 " By all means," he declared. " We will go in 
 together. I have had the entrance widened so that 
 I can ride straight into the sitting-room. But 
 wait." 
 
 He paused suddenly. He felt in all his pockets. 
 
 " Dear me," he exclaimed, " I find that I have left 
 the keys ! We will come down a little later, if you 
 do not mind, Mr. Hamel. Or to-morrow, perhaps. 
 You will not mind? It is very careless of me, but 
 seeing you about the place and imagining that you 
 were an intruder, made me angry, and I started off in 
 a hurry. Now walk by my side up to the house, 
 please, and talk to me. It is so interesting for me 
 to meet men," he went on, as they started along the 
 straight path, " who do things in life ; who go to for- 
 eign countries, meet strange people, and have new ex- 
 periences. I have been a good many years like this, 
 you know." 
 
 " It is a great affliction," Hamel murmured sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 " In my youth I was an athlete," Mr. Fentolin con- 
 tinued. " I played cricket for the Varsity and for 
 my county. I hunted, too, and shot. I did all the 
 things a man loves to do. I might still shoot, they 
 tell me, but my strength has ebbed away. I am too 
 weak to lift a gun, too weak even to handle a fishing- 
 rod. I have just a few hobbies in life which keep me 
 alive. Are you a politician, Mr. Hamel? " 
 
 " Not in the least," Hamel replied. " I have been
 
 no THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 out of England too long to keep in touch with poli- 
 tics." 
 
 " Naturally," Mr. Fentolin agreed. " It amuses 
 me to follow the course of events. I have a good 
 many friends in London and abroad who are kind to 
 me, who keep me informed, send me odd bits of infor- 
 mation not available for every one, and it amuses me 
 to put these things together in my mind and to try 
 and play the prophet. I was in the Foreign Office 
 once, you know. I take up my paper every morning, 
 and it is one of my chief interests to see how near 
 my own speculations come to the truth. Just now, 
 for example, there are strange things doing on the 
 Continent." 
 
 " In America," Hamel remarked, " they affect to 
 look upon England as a doomed Power." 
 
 " Not altogether supine yet," Mr. Fentolin ob- 
 served, " yet even this last generation has seen a 
 weakening. We have lost so much self-reliance. 
 Perhaps it is having these grown-up children who we 
 think can take care of us Canada and Australia, 
 and the others. However, we will not talk of poli- 
 tics. It bores you, I can see. We will try and 
 find some other subject. Now tell me, don't you 
 think this is ingenious ? " 
 
 They had reached the foot of the hill upon which 
 the Kail was situated. In front of them, under- 
 neath the terrace, was a little iron gate, held open 
 now by Meekins, who had gone on ahead and dis- 
 mounted from his bicycle. 
 
 " I have a subterranean way from here into the 
 Hall," Mr. Fentolin explained. " Come with me. 
 You will only have to stoop a little, and it may
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER in 
 
 amuse you. You need not be afraid. There are 
 electric lights every ten yards. I turn them on with 
 this switch see." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin touched a button in the wall, and 
 the place was at once brilliantly illuminated. A little 
 row of lights from the ceiling and the walls stretched 
 away as far ss one could see. They passed through 
 the iron gates, which shut behind them with a click. 
 Stooping a little, Hamel was still able to walk by the 
 side of the man in the chair. They traversed about 
 a hundred yards of subterranean way. Here and 
 there a fungus hung down from the wall, otherwise 
 it was beautifully kept and dry. By and by, with a 
 little turn, they came to an incline and another iron 
 gate, held open for them by a footman. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin sped up the last few feet into the great hall, 
 which seemed more imposing than ever by reason of 
 this unexpected entrance. Hamel, blinking a little, 
 stepped to his side. 
 
 " Welcome ! " Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. " Wel- 
 come, my friend Mr. Hamel, to St. David's Hall ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 During the next half-hour, Hamel was introduced 
 to luxuries to which, in a general way, he was en- 
 tirely unaccustomed. One man-servant was busy pre- 
 paring his bath in a room leading out of his sleeping 
 apartment, while another brought him a choice of 
 evening clothes and superintended his disrobing. 
 Hamel, always observant, studied his surroundings 
 with keen, interest. He found himself in a queerly 
 mixed atmosphere of luxurious modernity and stately 
 antiquity. His four-poster, the huge couch at the 
 foot of his bed, and all the furniture about the room, 
 was of the Queen Anne period. The bathroom 
 which communicated with his apartment was the latest 
 triumph of the plumber's art a room with floor 
 and walls of white tiles, the bath itself a little sunken 
 and twice the ordinary size. He dispensed so far 
 as he could with the services of the men and de- 
 scended, as soon as he was dressed, into the hall. 
 Meekins was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, 
 dressed now in somber black. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin will be glad if you will step into his 
 room, sir," he announced, leading the way. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin was seated in his chair, reading the 
 Times in a corner of his library. Shaped blocks 
 had been placed behind and in front of the wheels of 
 his little vehicle, to prevent it from moving. A 
 shaded reading-lamp stood on the table by his side.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 113 
 
 He did not at once look up, and Hamel glanced 
 around with genuine admiration. The shelves which 
 lined the walls and the winged cases which protruded 
 into the room were filled with books. There was a 
 large oak table with beautifully carved legs, piled with 
 all sorts of modern reviews and magazines. A log 
 fire was burning in the big oaken grate. The per- 
 fume from a great bowl of lavender seemed to mingle 
 curiously yet pleasantly with the half musty odour 
 of the old leather-bound volumes. The massive chim- 
 neypiece was of black oak, and above it were carved 
 the arms of the House of Fentolin. The walls were 
 oak-panelled to the ceiling. 
 
 " Refreshed, I hope, by your bath and change, my 
 dear visitor ? " the head of the house remarked, as he 
 laid down his paper. " Draw a chair up here and 
 join me in a glass of vermouth. You need not be 
 afraid of it. It comes to me from the maker as a 
 special favour." 
 
 Hamel accepted a quaintly-cut wine-glass full of 
 the amber liquid. Mr. Fentolin sipped his with the 
 air of a connoisseur. 
 
 " This," he continued, " is one of our informal 
 days. There is no one in the house save my sister-in- 
 law, niece, and nephew, and a poor invalid gentleman 
 who, I am sorry to say, is confined to his bed. My 
 sister-in-law is also, I regret to say, indisposed. She 
 desired me to present her excuses to you and say how 
 greatly she is looking forward to making your ac- 
 quaintance during the next few days." 
 
 Hamel bowed. 
 
 " It is very kind of Mrs. Fentolin," he murmured. 
 
 " On these occasions," Mr. Fentolin continued, " we
 
 ii 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 do not make use of a drawing-room. My niece will 
 come in here presently. You are looking at my 
 books, I see. Are you, by any chance, a bibliophile? 
 I have a case of manuscripts here which might interest 
 you." 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " Only in the abstract, I fear," he answered. " I 
 have scarcely opened a serious book since I was at 
 Oxford." 
 
 " What was your year ? " Mr. Fentolin asked. 
 
 " Fourteen years ago I left Magdalen," Hamel re- 
 plied. " I had made up my mind to be an engineer, 
 and I went over to the Boston Institute of Tech- 
 nology." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. 
 
 " A magnificent profession," he murmured. " A 
 healthy one, too, I should judge from your appear- 
 ance. You are a strong man, Mr. Hamel." 
 
 " I have had reason to be," Hamel rejoined. " Dur- 
 ing nearly the whole of the time I have been abroad, I 
 have been practically pioneering. Building railways 
 in the far West, with gangs of Chinese and Italians 
 and Hungarians and scarcely a foreman who isn't 
 terrified of his job, isn't exactly drawing-room work." 
 
 " You are going back there ? " Mr. Fentolin asked, 
 with interest. 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " I have no plans," he declared. " I have been 
 fortunate enough, or shall I some day say unfortu- 
 nate enough, I wonder, to have inherited a large leg- 
 acy." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. 
 
 " Don't ever doubt your good fortune," he said
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 115 
 
 earnestly. " The longer I live and in my limited 
 way I do see a good deal of life the more I appre- 
 ciate the fact that there isn't anything in this world 
 that compares with the power of money. I distrust 
 a poor man. He may mean to be honest, but he is 
 at all times subject to temptation. Ah! here is my 
 niece." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin turned towards the door. Hamel 
 rose at once to his feet. His surmise, then, had been 
 correct. She was coming towards them very quietly. 
 In her soft grey dinner-gown, her brown hair smoothly 
 brushed back, a pearl necklace around her long, deli- 
 cate neck, she seemed to him a very exquisite embodi- 
 ment of those memories which he had been carrying 
 about throughout the afternoon. 
 
 " Here, Mr. Hamel," his host said, " is a member of 
 my family who has been a deserter for a short time. 
 This is Mr. Richard Hamel, Esther; my niece, Miss 
 Esther Fentolin." 
 
 She held out her hand with the faintest possible 
 smile, which might have been of greeting or recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 " I travelled for some distance in the train with 
 Mr. Hamel this afternoon, I think." she remarked. 
 
 " Indeed ? " Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. " Dear me, 
 that is very interesting very interesting, indeed ! 
 Mr. Hamel, I am sure, did not tell you of his destina- 
 tion? " 
 
 He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he 
 scarcely understood, was quick to appreciate the pos- 
 sible significance of that tentative question. 
 
 " We did not exchange confidences," he observed. 
 " Miss Fentolin only changed into my carriage during
 
 n6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 the last few minutes of her journey. Besides," he 
 continued, " to tell you the truth, my ideas as to my 
 destination were a little hazy. To come and look 
 for some queer sort of building by the side of the sea, 
 which has been unoccupied for a dozen years or so, 
 scarcely seems a reasonable quest, does it ? " 
 
 " Scarcely, indeed," Mr. Fentolin assented. " You 
 may thank me, Mr. Hamel, for the fact that the place 
 is not in ruins. My blatant trespassing has saved 
 you from that, at least. After dinner we must talk 
 further about the Tower. To tell you the truth, 
 I have grown accustomed to the use of the little 
 place." 
 
 The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the 
 house. A moment later Gerald entered, followed by 
 a butler announcing dinner. 
 
 " The only remaining member of my family," Mr. 
 Fentolin remarked, indicating his nephew. " Gerald, 
 you will be pleased, I know, to meet Mr. Hamel. Mr. 
 Hamel has been a great traveller. Long before you 
 can remember, his father used to paint wonderful 
 pictures of this coast." 
 
 Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, 
 for a moment, lighted up. He was looking pale, 
 though, and singularly sullen and dejected. 
 
 ' There are two of your father's pictures in the 
 modern side of the gallery up-stairs," he remarked, 
 a little diffidently. " They are great favourites with 
 everybody here." 
 
 They all went in to dinner together. Meekins, who 
 had appeared silently, had glided unnoticed behind his 
 master's chair and wheeled it across the hall. 
 
 " A pwrtie carree to-night," Mr. Fentolin declared.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 117 
 
 " I have a resident doctor here, a very delightful per- 
 son, who often dines with us, but to-night I thought 
 not. Five is an awkward number. I want to get 
 to know you better, Mr. Hamel, and quickly. I want 
 you, too, to make friends with my niece and nephew. 
 Mr. Hamel's father," he went on, addressing the two 
 latter, " and your father were great friends. By-the- 
 by, have I told you both exactly why Mr. Hamel is a 
 guest here to-night why he came to these parts at 
 all? No? Listen, then. He came to take posses- 
 sion of the Tower. The worst of it is that it belongs 
 to him, too. His father bought it from your father 
 more years ago than we should care to talk about. 
 I have really been a trespasser all this time." 
 
 They took their places at a small round table in 
 the middle of the dining-room. The shaded lights 
 thrown downwards upon the table seemed to leave 
 most of the rest of the apartment in semi-darkness. 
 The gloomy faces of the men and women whose pic- 
 tures hung upon the walls were almost invisible. The 
 servants themselves, standing a little outside the halo 
 of light, were like shadows passing swiftly and noise- 
 lessly back and forth. At the far end of the room 
 was an organ, and to the left a little balcony, built 
 out as though for an orchestra. Hamel looked about 
 him almost in wonderment. There was something 
 curiously impressive in the size of the apartment and 
 its emptiness. 
 
 " A trespasser," Mr. Fentolin continued, as he took 
 up the menu and criticised it through his horn- 
 rimmed eyeglass, " that is what I have been, without 
 a doubt." 
 
 " But for your interest and consequent trespass,"
 
 n8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Hamcl remarked, " I should probably have found the 
 roof off and the whole place in ruins." 
 
 " Instead of which you found the door locked 
 against you," Mr. Fentolin pointed out. " Well, we 
 shall see. I might, at any rate, have lost the oppor- 
 tunity of entertaining you here this evening. I am 
 particularly glad to have an opportunity of making 
 you known to my niece and nephew. I think you will 
 agree with me that here are two young people who 
 are highly to be commended. I cannot offer them a 
 cheerful life here. There is little society, no gaiety, 
 no sort of excitement. Yet they never leave me. 
 They seem to have no other interest in life but to be 
 always at my beck and call. A case, Mr. Hamel, 
 of really touching devotion. If anything could recon- 
 cile me to my miserable condition, it would be the kind- 
 ness and consideration of those by whom I am sur- 
 rounded." 
 
 Hamel murmured a few words of cordial agree- 
 ment. Yet he found himself, in a sense, embarrassed. 
 Gerald was looking down upon his plate and his face 
 was hidden. Esther's features had suddenly become 
 stony and expressionless. Hamel felt instinctively 
 that something was wrong. 
 
 " There are compensations," Mr. Fentolin con- 
 tinued, with the air of one enjoying speech, " which 
 find their way into even the gloomiest of lives. As I 
 lie on my back, hour after hour, I feel all the more 
 conscious of this. The world is a school of compensa- 
 tions, Mr. Hamel. The interests the mental in- 
 terests, I mean of unfortunate people like myself, 
 come to possess in time a peculiar significance and to 
 yield a peculiar pleasure. I have hobbies, Mr. Hamel.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 119 
 
 I frankly admit it. Without my hobbies, I shudder to 
 think what might become of me. I might become a 
 selfish, cruel, misanthropical person. Hobbies are in- 
 deed a great thing." 
 
 The brother and sister sat still in stony silence. 
 Hamel, looking across the little table with its glitter- 
 ing load of cut glass and silver and scarlet flowers, 
 caught something in Esther's eyes, so rarely expres- 
 sive of any emotion whatever, which puzzled him. He 
 looked swiftly back at his host. Mr. Fentolin's face, 
 at that moment, was like a beautiful cameo. His ex- 
 pression was one of gentle benevolence. 
 
 " Let me be quite frank with you," Mr. Fentolin 
 murmured. " My occupation of the Tower is one of 
 these hobbies. I love to sit there within a few yards 
 of the sea and watch the tide come in. I catch some- 
 thing of the spirit, I think, which caught your father, 
 Mr. Hamel, and kept him a prisoner here. In my 
 small way I, too, paint while I am down there, paint 
 and dream. These things may not appeal to you, but 
 you must remember that there are few things left 
 to me in life, and that those, therefore, which I can 
 make use of, are dear to me. Gerald, you are silent 
 to-night. How is it that you say nothing? " 
 
 " I am tired, sir," the boy answered quietly. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely. 
 
 " It is inexcusable of me," he declared smoothly, " to 
 have forgotten even for a moment. My nephew, Mr. 
 Hamel," he went on, " had quite an exciting expe- 
 rience last night or rather a series of experiences. 
 He wjs first of all in a railway accident, and then, 
 for the sake of a poor fellow who was with him and 
 who was badly hurt, he motored back here in the
 
 120 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 grey hours of the morning and ran, they tell me, con* 
 siderable risk of being drowned on the marshes. A 
 very wonderful and praiseworthy adventure, I con- 
 sider it. I trust that our friend up-stairs, when he 
 recovers, will be properly grateful." 
 
 Gerald rose to his feet precipitately. The service 
 of dinner was almost concluded, and he muttered some- 
 thing which sounded like an excuse. Mr. Fentolin, 
 however, stretched out his hand and motioned him to 
 resume his seat. 
 
 " My dear Gerald ! " he exclaimed reprovingly. 
 " You would leave us so abruptly? Before your sis- 
 ter, too ! What will Mr. Hamel think of our country 
 ways? Pray resume your seat." 
 
 For a moment the boy stood quite still, then he 
 slowly subsided into his chair. Mr. Fentolin passed 
 around a decanter of wine which had been placed upon 
 the table by the butler. The servants had now left 
 the room. 
 
 " You must excuse my nephew, if you please, Mr. 
 Hamel," he begged. " Gerald has a boy's curious 
 aversion to praise in any form. I am looking forward 
 to hearing your verdict upon my port. The col- 
 lection of wine and pictures was a hobby of my grand- 
 father's, for which we, his descendants, can never be 
 sufficiently grateful." 
 
 Hamel praised his wine, as indeed he had every 
 reason to, but for a few moments the smooth conversa- 
 tion of his host fell upon deaf ears. He looked from 
 the boy's face, pale and wrinkled as though with some 
 sort of suppressed pain, to the girl's still, stony ex- 
 pression. This was indeed a house of mysteries! 
 There was something he're incomprehensible, some-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 121 
 
 thing about the relations of these three and their 
 knowledge of one another, utterly baffling. It was 
 the queerest household, surely, into which any 
 stranger had ever been precipitated. 
 
 " The planting of trees and the laying down of 
 port are two virtues in our ancestors which have 
 never been properly appreciated," Mr. Fentolin con- 
 tinued. " Let us, at any rate, free ourselves from 
 the reproach of ingratitude so far as regards my 
 grandfather Gerald Fentolin to whom I believe 
 we are indebted for this wine. We will drink " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin broke off in the middle of his sentence. 
 The august calm of the great house had been sud- 
 denly broken. From up-stairs came the tumult of 
 raised voices, the slamming of a door, the falling of 
 something heavy upon the floor. Mr. Fentolin lis- 
 tened with a grim change in his expression. His 
 smile had departed, his lower lip was thrust out, 
 his eyebrows met. He raised the little whistle which 
 hung from his chain, At that moment, however, the 
 door was opened. Doctor Sarson appeared. 
 
 " I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Fentolin," he said, 
 " but our patient is becoming a little difficult. The 
 concussion has left him, as I feared it might, in a 
 state of nervous excitability. He insists upon an 
 interview with you." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. 
 The doctor came over and laid his hand upon the 
 handle. 
 
 " You will, I am sure, excuse me for a few mo- 
 ments, Mr. Hamel," his host begged. " My niece 
 and nephew will do their best to entertain you. Now, 
 Sarson, I am ready."
 
 122 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. Fentolin glided across the dim, empty spaces 
 of the splendid apartment, followed by the doctor; 
 a ghostly little procession it seemed. The door was 
 closed behind them. For a few moments a curious 
 silence ensued. Gerald remained tense and appar- 
 ently suffering from some sort of suppressed emo- 
 tion. Esther for the first time moved in her place. 
 She leaned towards Hamel. Her lips were slowly 
 parted, her eyes sought the door as though in terror. 
 Her voice, although save for themselves there was 
 no one else in the whole of that great apartment, had 
 sunk to the lowest of whispers. 
 
 " Are you a brave man, Mr. Hamel ? " she asked. 
 
 He was staggered but he answered her promptly. 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 "Don't give up the Tower just yet. That is 
 what he has brought you here for. He wants yob 
 to give it up and go back. Don't ! " 
 
 The earnestness of her words was unmistakable. 
 Hamel felt the thrill of coming events. 
 
 " Why not? " 
 
 " Don't ask me," she begged. " Only if you are 
 brave, if you have feeling for others, keep the Tower, 
 if it be for only a week. Hush ! " 
 
 The door had been noiselessly opened. The doc- 
 tor appeared and advanced to the table with a 
 grave little bow. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin," he said, " has been kind enough 
 to suggest that I take a glass of wine with you. 
 My presence is not needed up-stairs. Mr. Hamel," 
 he added, " I am glad, sir, to make your acquaint- 
 ance. I have for a long time been a great admirer 
 of your father's work."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 123 
 
 He took his place at the head of the table and, fill- 
 ing his glass, bowed towards Hamel. Once more Ger- 
 ald and his sister relapsed almost automatically into 
 an indifferent and cultivated silence. Hamel found 
 civility towards the newcomer difficult. Uncon- 
 sciously his attitude became that of the other two. 
 He resented the intrusion. He found himself re- 
 garding the advent of Doctor Sarson as possess- 
 ing some secondary significance. It was almost as 
 though Mr. Fentolin preferred not to leave him alone 
 with his niece and nephew.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, on leaving the dining-room, steered 
 his chair with great precision through the open, 
 wrought-iron doors of a small lift at the further end 
 of the hall, which Doctor Sarson, who stepped in 
 with him, promptly directed to the second floor. 
 Here they made their way to the room in which Mr. 
 Dunster was lying. Doctor Sarson opened the door 
 and looked in. Almost immediately he stood at one 
 side, out of sight of Mr. Dunster, and nodded to Mr. 
 Fentolin. 
 
 " If there is any trouble," he whispered, " send 
 for me. I am better away, for the present. My 
 presence only excites him." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded. 
 
 " You are right," he said. " Go down into the 
 dining-room. I am not sure about that fellow Hamel, 
 and Gerald is in a queer temper. Stay with them. 
 See that they are not alone." 
 
 The doctor silently withdrew, and Mr. Fentolin 
 promptly glided past him into the room. Mr. John 
 P. Dunster, in his night clothes, was sitting on the 
 side of the bed. Standing within a few feet of him, 
 watching him all the time with the subtle intentness 
 of a cat watching a mouse, stood Meekins. Mr. 
 Dunster's head was still bound, although the bandage 
 had slipped a little, apparently in some struggle, 
 His face was chalklike, and he was breathing quickly.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 125 
 
 Nevertheless, his voice, when he spoke, was clear and 
 firm. 
 
 " So you've come at last ! " he exclaimed, a little 
 truculently. " Are you Mr. Fentolin ? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His 
 eyes rested upon his guest with an air of tender in- 
 terest. His face was almost beautiful. 
 
 " You are the owner of this house I am under- 
 neath your roof is that so? " 
 
 " This is certainly St. David's Hall," Mr. Fentolin 
 replied. " It really appears as though your con- 
 clusions were correct." 
 
 " Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner 
 here?" 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's expression was for a moment 
 clouded. He seemed hurt. 
 
 " A prisoner," he repeated softly. " My dear Mr. 
 Dunster, you have surely forgotten the circumstances 
 which procured for me the pleasure of this visit ; the 
 condition in which you arrived here only, after all, 
 a very few hours ago ? " 
 
 " The circumstances," Mr. Dunster declared drily, 
 " are to me still inexplicable. At Liverpool Street 
 Station I was accosted by a young man who informed 
 me that his name was Gerald Fentolin, and that he 
 was on his way to The Hague to play in a golf tour- 
 nament. His story seemed entirely probable, and I 
 permitted him a seat in the special train I had char- 
 tered for Harwich. There was an accident and I re- 
 ceived this blow to my head only a trifling affair, 
 after all. I come to my senses to find myself here. I 
 do not know exactly what part of the world you 
 call this, but from the fact that I can see the sea from
 
 126 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 my window, it must be some considerable distance 
 from the scene of the accident. I find that my dress- 
 ing-case has been opened, my pocket-book examined, 
 and I am apparently a prisoner. I ask you, Mr. Fen- 
 tolin, for an explanation." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly. 
 " My dear sir," he said, " my dear Mr. Dunster, 
 I believe I may have the pleasure of calling you 
 your conclusions seem to me just a little melodramatic. 
 My nephew Gerald Fentolin did what I con- 
 sider the natural thing, under the circumstances. 
 You had been courteous to him, and he repaid the 
 obligation to the best of his ability. The accident 
 to your train happened in a dreary part of the coun- 
 try, some thirty miles from here. My nephew 
 adopted a course which I think, under the circum- 
 stances, was the natural and hospitable one. He 
 brought you to his home. There was no hospital or 
 town of any importance nearer." 
 
 " Very well," Mr. Dunster decided. " I will ac- 
 cept your version of the affair. I will, then, up to 
 this point acknowledge myself your debtor. But 
 will you tell me why my dressing-case has been opened, 
 my clothes removed, and a pocket-book containing 
 papers of great importance to me has been tampered 
 with?" 
 
 " My dear Mr. Dunster," his host replied calmly, 
 " you surely cannot imagine that you are among 
 thieves! Your dressing-case was opened and the 
 contents of your pocket-book inspected with a 
 view to ascertaining your address, or the names 
 of some friends with whom we might communi- 
 cate."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 127 
 
 " Am I to understand that they are to be restored 
 to me, then ? " Mr. Dunster demanded. 
 
 " Without a doubt, yes ! " Mr. Fentolin assured 
 him. " You, however, are not fit for anything, at 
 the present moment, but to return to your bed, from 
 which I understand you rose rather suddenly a few 
 minutes ago." 
 
 " On the contrary," Mr. Dunster insisted, " I am 
 feeling absolutely well enough to travel. I have an 
 appointment on the Continent of great importance, as 
 you may judge by the fact that at Liverpool Street I 
 chartered a special train. I trust that nothing in my 
 manner may have given you offence, but I am anx- 
 ious to get through with the business which brought 
 me over to this side of the water. I have sent for you 
 to ask that my pocket-book, dressing-case, and clothes 
 be at once restored to me, and that I be provided with 
 the means of continuing my journey without a mo- 
 ment's further delay." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very re- 
 gretfully, but also firmly. 
 
 " Mr. Dunster," he pleaded, " do be reasonable. 
 Think of all you have been through. I can quite 
 sympathise with you in your impatience, but I am 
 forced to tell you that the doctor who has been at- 
 tending you since the moment you were brought into 
 this house has absolutely forbidden anything of the 
 sort." 
 
 Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for 
 composure. 
 
 " I am an American citizen," he declared. " I am 
 willing to listen to the advice of any physician, but 
 so long as I take the risk, I am not bound to follow it.
 
 128 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for 
 facilities to leave this house at once." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " In your own interests," he said calmly, " they 
 will not be granted to you." 
 
 Mr. Dunster had spoken all the time like a man 
 struggling to preserve his self-control. There were 
 signs now that his will was ceasing to serve him. His 
 eyes flashed fire, his voice was raised. 
 
 " Will not be granted to me? " he repeated. " Do 
 you mean to say, then, that I am to be kept here 
 against my will?" 
 
 Mr. Fentolin made no immediate reply. With the 
 delicate fingers of his right hand he pushed back the 
 hair from his forehead. He looked at his questioner 
 soothingly, as one might look at a spoiled child. 
 
 " Against my will? " Mr. Dunster repeated, raising 
 his voice still higher. " Mr. Fentolin, if the truth 
 must be told, I have heard of you before and been 
 warned against you. I decline to accept any longer 
 the hospitality of your roof. I insist upon leaving it. 
 If you will not provide me with any means of doing 
 so, I will walk." 
 
 He made a motion as though to rise from the bed. 
 Meekins' hand very gently closed upon his arm. One 
 could judge that the grip was like a grip of iron. 
 
 " Dear me," Mr. Fentolin said, " this is really very 
 unreasonable of you ! If you have heard of me, Mr. 
 Dunster, you ought fco understand that notwithstand- 
 ing my unfortunate physical trouble, I am a person of 
 consequence and position in this county. I am a 
 magistrate, ex-high sheriff, and a great land-owner 
 here. I think I may say without boasting that I
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 129 
 
 represent one of the most ancient families in this 
 country. Why, therefore, should you treat me as 
 though it were to my interest to inveigle you under 
 my roof and keep you there for some guilty purpose? 
 Cannot you understand that it is for your own good 
 I hesitate to part with you? " 
 
 " I understand nothing of the sort," Mr. Dunster 
 exclaimed angrily. " Let us bring this nonsense to 
 an end. I want my clothes, and if you won't lend 
 me a car or a trap, I'll walk to the nearest railway 
 station." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head. 
 
 " I am quite sure," he said, " that you are not in a 
 position to travel. Even in the dining-room just now 
 I heard a disturbance for which I was told that you 
 were responsible." 
 
 " I simply insisted upon having my clothes," Mr. 
 Dunster explained. " Your servant refused to fetch 
 them. Perhaps I lost my temper. If so, I am sorry. 
 I am not used to being thwarted." 
 
 " A few days' rest " Mr. Fentolin began. 
 
 " A few days' rest be hanged ! " Mr. Dunster in- 
 terrupted fiercely. " Listen, Mr. Fentolin," he added, 
 with the air of one making a last effort to preserve 
 his temper, " the mission with which I am charged is 
 one of greater importance than you can imagine. 
 So much depends upon it that my own life, if that is 
 in danger, would be a mere trifle in comparison with 
 the issues involved. If I am not allowed to continue 
 upon my journey at once, the consequences may 
 be more serious than I can tell you, to you and yours, 
 to your own country. There ! I am telling you a 
 great deal, but I want you to understand that I am.
 
 i 3 o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 in earnest. I have a mission which I must perform, 
 and which I must perform quickly." 
 
 " You are very mysterious," Mr. Fentolin mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " I will leave nothing to chance," Mr. Dunster con- 
 tinued. " Send this man who seems to have consti- 
 tuted himself my jailer out of earshot, and I will tell 
 you even more." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins. 
 
 " You can leave the room for a moment," he 
 ordered. " Wait upon the threshold." 
 
 Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey. 
 
 " You will excuse me, sir," he objected doubtfully, 
 " but I am not at all sure that he is safe." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly. 
 
 " You need have no fear, Meekins," he declared. 
 " I am quite sure that you are mistaken. I think 
 that Mr. Dunster is incapable of any act of violence 
 towards a person in my unfortunate position. I am 
 willing to trust myself with him perfectly willing, 
 Meekins." 
 
 Meekins, with ponderous footsteps, left the room 
 and closed the door behind him. Mr. Fentolin leaned 
 a little forward in his chair. It seemed as though he 
 were on springs. The fingers of his right hand had 
 disappeared in the pocket of his black velvet dinner- 
 coat. He was certainly prepared for all emergencies. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Dunster," he said softly, " you can 
 speak to me without reserve." 
 
 Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became 
 one of fierce eagerness. 
 
 " Look here," he exclaimed, " I don't think you 
 ought to force me to give myself away like this, but,
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 131 
 
 after all, you are an Englishman, with a stake in your 
 country, and I presume you don't want her to take a 
 back seat for the next few generations. Listen here. 
 It's to save your country that I want to get to The 
 Hague without a second's delay. I tell you that if I 
 don't get there, if the message I convey doesn't reach 
 its destination, you may find an agreement signed 
 between certain Powers which will mean the greatest 
 diplomatic humiliation which Great Britain has ever 
 known. Aye, and more than that ! " Mr. Dunster 
 continued. " It may be that the bogey you've been 
 setting before yourself for all these years may trot 
 out into life, and you may find St. David's Hall a 
 barrack for German soldiers before many months have 
 passed." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief. 
 
 " You are speaking to one," he declared, " who 
 knows more of the political situation than you im- 
 agine. In my younger days I was in the Foreign 
 Office. Since my unfortunate accident I have pre- 
 served the keenest interest in politics. I tell you 
 frankly that I do not believe you. As the Powers 
 are grouped at present, I do not believe in the pos- 
 sibility of a successful invasion of this country." 
 
 " Perhaps not," Mr. Dunster replied eagerly, " but 
 the grouping of the Powers as it has existed during 
 the last few years is on the eye of a great change. 
 I cannot take you wholly into my confidence. I can 
 only give you my word of honour as a friend to your 
 country that the message I carry is her only salva- 
 tion. Having told you as much as that, I do not 
 think I am asking too much if I ask you for my clothes 
 and dressing-case, and for the fastest motor-car you
 
 i 3 2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 can furnish me with. I guess I can get from here to 
 Yarmouth, and from there I can charter something 
 which will take me to the other side." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin raised the little gold whistle to his 
 lips and blew it very softly. Meekins at once entered, 
 closing 1 the door behind him. He moved silently to 
 the side of the man who had risen now from the bed, 
 and who was standing with his hand grasping the 
 post and his eyes fixed upon Mr. Fentolin, as though 
 awaiting his answer. 
 
 " Our conversation," the latter said calmly, " has 
 reached a point, Mr. Dunster, at which I think we 
 may leave it for the moment. You have told me some 
 very surprising things. I perceive that you are a 
 more interesting visitor even than I had thought." 
 
 He raised his left hand, and Meekins, who seemed 
 to have been waiting for some signal of the sort, sud- 
 denly, with a movement of his knee and right arm, 
 flung Dunster back upon the bed. The man opened 
 his mouth to shout, but already, with lightning-like 
 dexterity, his assailant had inserted a gag between his 
 teeth. Treating his struggles as the struggles of a 
 baby, Meekins next proceeded to secure his wrists with 
 handcuffs. He then held his feet together while he 
 quietly wound a coil of cord around them. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin watched the proceedings from his chair with an 
 air of pleased and critical interest. 
 
 " Very well done, Meekins very neatly done, in- 
 deed ! " he exclaimed. " As I was saying, Mr. Dun- 
 ster," he continued, turning his chair, " our conversa- 
 tion has reached a point at which I think we may 
 safely leave it for a time. We will discuss these 
 matters again. Your pretext of a political mission
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 133 
 
 is, of course, an absurd one, but fortunately you have 
 fallen into good hands. Take good care of Mr. Dun- 
 ster, Meekins. I can see that he is a very important 
 personage. .We must be careful not to lose sight of 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin steered his chair to the door, opened 
 it, and passed out. On the landing he blew his whistle ; 
 the lift almost immediately ascended. A moment or 
 two later he glided into the dining-room. The three 
 men were still seated around the table. A decanter 
 of wine, almost empty, was before Doctor Sarson, 
 whose pallid cheeks, however, were as yet unflushed. 
 
 " At last, my dear guest," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, 
 turning to Hamel, " I am able to return to you. If 
 you will drink no more wine, let us have our coffee 
 in the library, you and I. I want to talk to you about 
 the Tower."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Mr. Fentolin led the way to a delightful little corner 
 of his library, where before the open grate, recently 
 piled with hissing logs, an easy chair had been drawn. 
 He wheeled himself up to the other side of the hearth- 
 rug and leaned back with a little air of exhaustion. 
 The butler, who seemed to have appeared unsummoned 
 from somewhere among the shadows, served coffee and 
 poured some old brandy into large and wonderfully 
 thin glasses. 
 
 " Why my house should be turned into an asylum 
 to gratify the hospitable instincts of my young 
 nephew, I cannot imagine," Mr. Fentolin grumbled. 
 " A most extraordinary person, our visitor, I can as- 
 sure you. Quite violent, too, he was at first." 
 
 " Have you had any outside advice about his con- 
 dition ? " Hamel inquired. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin glanced across those few feet of space 
 and looked at Hamel with swift suspicion. 
 
 " Why should I? " he asked. " Doctor Sarson is 
 fully qualified, and the case seems to present no un- 
 usual characteristics." 
 
 Hamel sipped his brandy thoughtfully. 
 
 " I don't know why I suggested it," he admitted. 
 " I only thought that an outside doctor might help 
 you to get rid of the fellow." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " After all," he said, " the matter is of no real con-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 135 
 
 sequence. Doctor Sarson assures me that we shall 
 be able to send him on his way very shortly. In the 
 meantime, Mr. Hamel, what about the Tower? " 
 
 "What about it?" Hamel asked, selecting a ci- 
 gar from the box which had been pushed to his side. 
 " I am sure I haven't any wish to inconvenience 
 you." 
 
 " I will be quite frank," Mr. Fentolin declared. 
 " I do not dispute your right for a moment. On the 
 other hand, my few hours daily down there have be- 
 come a habit with me. I do not wish to give them 
 up. Stay here with us, Mr. Hamel. You will be 
 doing us a great kindness. My nephew and niece 
 have too little congenial society. Make up your mind 
 to give us a fortnight of your time, and I can assure 
 you that we will do our best to make yours a pleasant 
 stay." 
 
 Hamel was a little taken aback. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin," he said, " I couldn't think of ac- 
 cepting your hospitality to such an extent. My idea 
 in coming here was simply to fulfil an old promise to 
 my father and to rough it at the Tower for a week 
 or so, and when that was over, I don't suppose I 
 should ever be likely to come back again. You had 
 better let me carry out that plan, and afterwards the 
 place shall be entirely at your disposal." 
 
 " You don't quite understand," Mr. Fentolin per- 
 sisted, a little irritably. " I sit there every morning. 
 I want, for instance, to be there to-morrow morning, 
 and the next morning, and the morning afterwards, 
 to finish a little seascape I have commenced. Nowhere 
 else will do. Call it a whim or what you will. I 
 have begun the picture, and I want to finish it."
 
 i 3 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Well, you can sit there all right," Hamel as- 
 sured him. " I shall be out playing golf or fishing. 
 I shall do nothing but sleep there." 
 
 " And very uncomfortable you will be," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin pointed out. " You have no servant, I under- 
 stand, and there is no one in the village fit to look 
 after you. Think of my thirty-nine empty rooms, 
 my books here, my gardens, my motor-cars, my young 
 people, entirely at your service. You can have a 
 suite to yourself. You can disappear when you like. 
 To all effects and purposes you will be the master of 
 St. David's Hall. Be reasonable. Don't you think, 
 now, that you can spend a fortnight more pleasantly 
 under such circumstances than by playing the misan- 
 thrope down at the Tower ? " 
 
 "Please don't think," Hamel begged, "that I 
 don't appreciate your hospitality. I should feel un- 
 comfortable, however, if I paid you a visit of the 
 length you have suggested. Come, I don't see," he 
 added, " why my occupation of the Tower should in- 
 terfere with you. I should be away from it by about 
 nine or ten o'clock every morning. I should prob- 
 ably only sleep there. Can't you accept the use of 
 it all the rest of the time? I can assure you that 
 you will be welcome to come and go as though it 
 were entirely your own." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin had lit a cigarette and was watching 
 the blue smoke curl upwards to the ceiling. 
 
 " You're an obstinate man, Mr. Hamel," he sighed, 
 " but I suppose you must have your own way. By- 
 the-by, you would only need to use the up-stairs 
 room and the sitting-room. You will not need the 
 outhouse rather more than an outhouse, though,
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 137 
 
 isn't it? I mean the shed which leads out from the 
 kitchen, where the lifeboat used to be kept? " 
 
 " I don't think I shall need that," Hamel admitted, 
 a little hesitatingly. 
 
 " To tell you the truth," Mr. Fentolin continued, 
 " among my other hobbies I have done a little invent- 
 ing. I work sometimes at a model there. It is fool- 
 ish, perhaps, but I wish no one to see it. Do you 
 mind if I keep the keys of the place? " 
 
 "Not in the least," Hamel replied. "Tell me, 
 v.-hat direction do your inventions take, Mr. Fen- 
 tolin? " 
 
 " Before you go," Mr. Fentolin promised, " I will 
 show you my little model at work. Until then we will 
 not talk of it. Now come, be frank with me. Shall we 
 exchange ideas for a little time? Will you talk of 
 books? They are my daily friends. I have thou- 
 sands of them, beloved companions on every side. 
 Or will you talk of politics or travel? Or would you 
 rather be frivolous with my niece and nephew ? That, 
 I think, is Esther playing." 
 
 " To be quite frank," Hamel declared bluntly, " I 
 should like to talk to your niece." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled as though amused. His 
 amusement, however, was perfectly good-natured. 
 
 " If you will open this door," he said, " you will 
 see another one exactly opposite to you. That is the 
 drawing-room. You will find Esther there. Before 
 you go, will you pass me the Quarterly Review? 
 Thank you." 
 
 Hamel crossed the hall, opened the door of the 
 room to which he had been directed, and made his 
 way towards the piano. Esther was there, playing
 
 i 3 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 softly to herself with eyes half closed. He came and 
 stood by her side, and she stopped abruptly. Her 
 eyes questioned him. Then her fingers stole once 
 more over the keys, more softly still. 
 
 " I have just left your uncle," Hamel said. " He 
 told me that I might come in here." 
 
 " Yes ? " she murmured. 
 
 " He was very hospitable," Hamel continued. 
 " He wanted me to remain here as a guest and not 
 go to the Tower at all." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I am going to the Tower," he said. " I am 
 going there to-morrow or the day after." 
 
 The music swelled beneath her fingers. 
 
 "For how long?" 
 
 " For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle 
 time to clear out his belongings. I am leaving him 
 the outhouse." 
 
 " He asked you to leave him that ? " she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " You are not going in there at all? " 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 Again she played a little more loudly for a fevr 
 moments. Then the music died away once more. 
 
 " What reason did he give for keeping possession 
 of that?" 
 
 " Another hobby," Hamel replied. " He is an in- 
 ventor, it seems. He has the model of something 
 there; he would not tell me what." 
 
 She shivered a little, and her music drifted away. 
 She bent over the keys, her face hidden from him. 
 
 " You will not go away just yet? " she asked softly.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 139 
 
 " You are going to stay for a few days, at any rate? " 
 
 " Without a doubt," he assured her. " I am al- 
 together my own master." 
 
 " Thank God," she murmured. 
 
 He leaned with his elbow against the top of the 
 piano, looking down at her. Since dinnertime she 
 had fastened a large red rose in the front of her 
 gown. 
 
 " Do you know that this is all rather mysterious? " 
 he said calmly. 
 
 " What is mysterious? " she demanded. 
 
 " The atmosphere of the place : your uncle's queer 
 aversion to my having the Tower ; your visitor up- 
 stairs, who fights with the servants while we are at 
 dinner; your uncle himself, whose will seems to be 
 law not only to you but to your brother, who must be 
 of age, I should think, and who seems to have plenty 
 of spirit." 
 
 " We live here, both of us," she told him. " He 
 is our guardian." 
 
 " Naturally," Hamel replied, " and yet, it may 
 have been my fancy, of course, but at dinnertime I 
 seemed to get a queer impression." 
 
 " Tell it me ? " she insisted, her fingers breaking 
 suddenly into a livelier melody. " Tell it me at once ? 
 You were there all the time. I could see you watch- 
 ing. Tell me what you thought?" 
 
 She had turned her head now, and her eyes were 
 fixed upon his. They were large and soft, capable, 
 he knew, of infinite expression. Yet at that moment 
 the light that shone from them was simply one of 
 fear, half curious, half shrinking. 
 
 " My impression," he said, " was that both of you
 
 i 4 o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 disliked and feared Mr. Fentolin, yet for some reason 
 or other that you were his abject slaves." 
 
 Her fingers seemed suddenly inspired with diabolical 
 strength and energy. Strange chords crashed and 
 broke beneath them. She played some unfamiliar 
 music with tense and fierce energy. Suddenly she 
 paused and rose to her feet. 
 
 " Come out on to the terrace," she invited. " You 
 are not afraid of cold ? " 
 
 He followed her without a word. She opened the 
 French windows, and they stepped out on to the long, 
 broad stone promenade. The night was dark, and 
 there was little to be seen. The light was burning 
 at the entrance to the waterway; a few lights were 
 twinkling from the village. The soft moaning of the 
 sea was distinctly audible. She moved to the edge of 
 the palisading. He followed her closely. 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Hamel," she said. " I think 
 that I am more afraid of him than any woman ever 
 was of any man in this world." 
 
 "Then why do you live here?" he protested. 
 " You must have other relations to whom you could 
 go. And your brother why doesn't he do some- 
 thing go into one of the professions ? He could 
 surely leave easily enough? " 
 
 " I will tell you a secret," she answered calmly. 
 " Perhaps it will help you to understand. You know 
 my uncle's condition. You know that it was the re- 
 sult of an accident ? " 
 
 " I have heard so," he replied gravely. 
 
 She clutched at his arm. 
 
 " Come," she said. 
 
 Side by side they walked the entire length of the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 141 
 
 terrace. When they reached the corner, they were 
 met with a fierce gust of wind. She battled along, 
 and he followed her. They were looking inland now. 
 There were no lights visible nothing but dark, 
 chaotic emptiness. From somewhere below him he 
 could hear the wind in the tree-tops. 
 
 " This way," she directed. " Be careful." 
 
 They walked to the very edge of the palisading. 
 It was scarcely more than a couple of feet high. She 
 pointed downwards. 
 
 " Can you see? " she whispered. 
 
 By degrees his eyes faintly penetrated the dark- 
 ness. It was as though they were looking down a 
 precipice. The descent was perfectly sheer for nearly 
 a hundred feet. At the bottom were the pine 
 trees. 
 
 " Come here again in the morning," she whispered. 
 "" You will see then. I brought you here to show you 
 the place. It was here that the accident happened." 
 
 "What accident?" 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin's," she continued. " It was here 
 that he went over. He was picked up with both his 
 legs broken. They never thought that he would live." 
 
 Hamel shivered a little. As his eyes grew accus- 
 tomed to the darkness, he saw more distinctly than 
 ever the sheer fall, the tops of the bending trees 
 below. 
 
 " What a horrible thing ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " It was more horrible than you know," she con- 
 tinued, dropping her voice a little, almost whispering 
 in his ear. " I do not know why I tell you this 
 you, a stranger but if I do not tell some one, I 
 think that the memory of it will drive me mad. It was
 
 i 4 2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 no accident at all. Mr. Fentolin was thrown over ! " 
 
 " By whom? " he asked. 
 
 She clung to his arm for a moment. 
 
 " Ah, don't ask me ! " she begged. " No one 
 knows. My uncle gave out, as soon as he was con- 
 scious, that it was an accident." 
 
 " That, at any rate, was fine of him," Hamel de- 
 clared. 
 
 She shivered. 
 
 " He was proud, at least, of our family name. 
 Whatever credit he deserves for it, he must have. 
 It was owing to that accident that we became his 
 slaves : nothing but that his absolute slaves, to wait 
 upon him, if he would, hand and foot. You see, he 
 has never been able to marry. His life was, of course, 
 ruined. So the burden came to us. We took it up, 
 little thinking what was in store for us. Five years 
 ago we came here to live. Gerald wanted to go into 
 the army ; I wanted to travel with my mother. Ger- 
 ald has done all the work secretly, but he has never 
 been allowed to pass his examinations. I have never 
 left England except to spend two years at the strictest 
 boarding-school in Paris, to which I was taken and 
 fetched away by one of his creatures. We live here, 
 with the shadow of this thing always with us. We 
 are his puppets. If we hesitate to do his bidding, he 
 reminds us. So far, we have been his creatures, body 
 and soul. Whether it will go on, I cannot say oh, 
 I cannot say ! It is bad for us, but there is mother, 
 too. He makes her life a perfect hell ! " 
 
 A roar of wind came booming once more across 
 the marshes, bending the trees which grew so thickly 
 beneath them and which ascended precipitately to
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 143 
 
 the back of the house. The French windows behind 
 rattled. She looked around nervously. 
 
 " I am afraid of him all the time," she murmured. 
 " He seems to overhear everything he or his crea- 
 tures. Listen ! " 
 
 They were silent for several moments. He whis- 
 pered in her ear so closely that through the darkness 
 he could see the fire in her eyes. 
 
 " You are telling me half," he said. " Tell me 
 everything. Who threw your uncle over the para- 
 pet? " 
 
 She stood by his side, motionless and trembling. 
 
 " It was the passion of a moment," she said at 
 last, speaking hoarsely. " I cannot tell you. Lis- 
 ten ! Listen ! " 
 
 " There is no one near," Hamel assured her. " It 
 is the wind which shakes the windows. I wish that 
 you would tell me everything. I would like to be 
 your friend. Believe me, I have that desire, really. 
 There are so many things which I do not under- 
 stand. That it is dull here for you, of course, is 
 natural, but there is something more than that. 
 You seem always to fear something. Your uncle is 
 a selfish man, naturally, although to look at him he 
 seems to have the disposition of an angel. But be- 
 yond that, is there anything of which you are afraid? 
 You seem all the time to live in fear." 
 
 She suddenly clutched his hand. There was noth- 
 ing of affection in her touch, and yet he felt a thrill 
 of delight. 
 
 " There are strange things which happen here," 
 she whispered, " things which neither Gerald nor I 
 understand. Yet they terrify us. I think that very
 
 144 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 soon the end will come. Neither of us can stand 
 it very much longer. We have no friends. Some- 
 how or other, he seems to manage to keep us always 
 isolated." 
 
 " I shall not go away from here," Hamel said 
 firmly, " at present. Mind, I am not at all sure that, 
 living this solitary life as you do, you have not be- 
 come a little over-nervous ; that you have not ex- 
 aggerated the fear of some things. To me your 
 uncle seems merely quixotic and egregiously selfish. 
 However that may be, I am going to remain." 
 
 She clutched once more at his arm, her finger was 
 upraised. They listened together. From some- 
 where behind them came the clear, low wailing of a 
 violin. 
 
 " It is Mr. Fentolin," she whispered. " Please 
 come in; let us go in at once. He only plays when 
 he is excited. I am afraid! Oh, I am afraid that 
 something is going to happen ! " 
 
 She was already round the corner and on her way 
 to the main terrace. He followed her closely.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 " Let us follow the example of all great golfers," 
 Hamel said. " Let us for this morning, at any rate, 
 imagine that your whole world is encompassed within 
 these eighteen holes. We have been sent here in a 
 moment of good humour by your tyrant uncle. The 
 sun shines, and the wind is from the west. Why 
 not?" 
 
 " That is all very well for you," she retorted, 
 smiling, " but I have topped my drive." 
 
 " Purely an incident," he assured her. " The vicis- 
 situdes of the game do not enter into the question. 
 I have driven a ball far above my usual form, but 
 I am not gloating over it. I prefer to remember 
 only that I am going to spend the next two hours 
 with you." 
 
 She played her shot, and they walked for a little 
 way together. She was suddenly silent. 
 
 " Do you know," she said finally, just a little 
 gravely, " I am not at all used to speeches of this 
 sort." 
 
 " Then you ought to be," he declared. " Noth- 
 ing but the lonely life you have been living has kept 
 you from hearing them continually." 
 
 She laughed a little at the impotence of her rebuff 
 and paused for a moment to make her next shot. 
 Hamel, standing a little on one side, watched her ap- 
 praisingly. Her short, grey tweed skirt was obvi-
 
 i 4 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 ously the handiwork of an accomplished tailor. Her 
 grey stockings and suede shoes were immaculate and 
 showed a care for her appearance which pleased him. 
 Her swing, too, revealed a grace, the grace of long 
 arms and a supple body, at which previously he had 
 only guessed. The sunshine seemed to have brought 
 out a copper tinge from her abundant brown hair. 
 
 " Do you know," he remarked, " I think I am be- 
 ginning to like your uncle. Great idea of his, sending 
 us off here directly after breakfast." 
 
 Her face darkened for a moment, and he realised 
 his error. The same thought, indeed, had been in 
 both their minds. Mr. Fentolin's courteous sugges- 
 tion had been offered to them almost in the shape of a 
 command. It was scarcely possible to escape from the 
 reflection that he had desired to rid himself of their 
 presence for the morning. 
 
 " Of course," he went on, " I knew that these links 
 were good quite famous, aren't they ? " 
 
 " I have played on so few others," she told him. 
 " I learned my golf here with King, the professional." 
 
 He took off his cap and handed it to his caddy. 
 He himself was beginning already to look younger. 
 The long blue waves came rippling up the creeks. 
 The salt wind, soft with sunshine, blew in their faces. 
 The marshes on the landward side were mauve with 
 lavender blossom. In the distance, the red-tiled cot- 
 tages nestled deep among a background of green trees 
 and rising fields. 
 
 " This indeed is a land of peace," he declared. " If 
 I hadn't to give you quite so many strokes, I should 
 be really enjoying myself." 
 
 ' You don't play like a man who has been living
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 147 
 
 abroad for a great many years," she remarked. 
 " Tell me about some of the places you have visited? " 
 
 " Don't let us talk seriously," he begged. " I'll 
 tell you of them but let it be later on. This morning 
 I feel that the .spring air is getting into my head. 
 I have an absurd desire to talk nonsense." 
 
 " So far," she admitted, " you haven't been al- 
 together unsuccessful." 
 
 " If you are alluding," he replied, " to the personal 
 remarks I was emboldened to make on my way here, 
 I can only say that they were excused by their truth- 
 fulness." 
 
 " I am not at all sure that you have known me long 
 enough to tell me what colours suit me," she de- 
 murred. 
 
 " Then what will you say," he enquired, " if I 
 admire the angle of that quill in your hat ? " 
 
 " Don't do it," she laughed. " If you continue 
 like this, I may have to go home." 
 
 " You have sent the car away," he reminded her 
 cheerfully. " You would simply have to sit upon the 
 balcony and reflect upon your wasted morning." 
 
 " I decline to talk upon the putting green," she 
 said. " It puts me off. If you will stand perfectly 
 quiet and say nothing, I will play the like." 
 
 They moved off presently to the next teeing ground. 
 
 " I don't believe this nonsense is good for our golf," 
 she said. 
 
 " It is immensely good for us as human beings," 
 he protested. 
 
 They had played the ninth hole and turned for 
 home. On their right now was a shimmering stretch 
 of wet sand and a thin line of sea in the distance.
 
 148 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 The tide, receding, had left little islands of virgin, 
 sand, grass tufted, the home of countless sea-gulls. 
 A brown-sailed fishing boat was racing for the narrow- 
 entrance to the tidal way. 
 
 " I am beginning to understand what there is about 
 this coast which fascinated my father so," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Are you? " she answered gravely. " Years ago I 
 used to love it, but not now." 
 
 He tried to change the subject, but the gloom had 
 settled upon her face once more. 
 
 " You don't know what it is like," she went on, as 
 they walked side by side after their balls, " to live 
 day and night in fear, with no one to talk to no 
 one, that is to say, who is not under the same shadow. 
 Even the voices of the wind and the sea, and the 
 screaming of the birds, seem to bring always an evil 
 message. There is nothing kindly or hopeful even in 
 the sunshine. At night, when the tide comes thunder- 
 ing in as it does so often at this time of the year, one 
 is afraid. There is so much to make one afraid ! " 
 
 She had turned pale again, notwithstanding the 
 sunshine and the freshening wind. He laid his hand 
 lightly upon her arm. She suffered his touch without 
 appearing to notice it. 
 
 " Ah, you mustn't talk like that ! " he pleaded. 
 " Do you know what you make me feel like? " 
 
 She came back from the world of her own unhappy 
 imaginings. 
 
 " Really, I forgot myself," she declared, with a lit- 
 tle smile. " Never mind, it does one good sometimes. 
 One up, are you? Henceforth, then, golf all the: 
 rigour of the game, mind."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 149 
 
 He fell in with her mood, and their conversation 
 touched only upon the game. On the last green he 
 suffered defeat and acknowledged it with a little 
 grimace. 
 
 " If I might say so, Miss Fentolin," he protested, 
 " you are a little too good for your handicap. I used 
 to play a very reasonable scratch myself, but I can't 
 give you the strokes." 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 " Doubtless your long absence abroad," she began 
 slowly, " has affected your game." 
 
 " I was round in eighty-one," he grumbled. 
 
 " You must have travelled in many countries," she 
 continued, " where golf was an impossibility." 
 
 " Naturally," he admitted. " Let us stay and 
 have lunch and try again." 
 
 She shook her head with a little sigh of regret. 
 
 " You see, the car is waiting," she pointed out. 
 " We are expected home. I shan't be a minute put- 
 ting my clubs away." 
 
 They sped swiftly along the level road towards St. 
 David's Hall. Far in the distance they saw it, built 
 upon that strange hill, with the sunlight flashing in its 
 windows. He looked at it long and curiously. 
 
 " I think," he said, " that yours is the most ex- 
 traordinarily situated house I have ever seen. Fancy 
 a gigantic mound like that in the midst of an abso- 
 lutely flat marsh." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " There is no other house quite like it in England," 
 she said. " I suppose it is really a wonderful place. 
 Have you looked at the pictures ? " 
 
 " Not carefully," he told her.
 
 i 5 o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " You must before you leave," she insisted. " Mr. 
 Fentolin is a great judge, and so was his father." 
 
 Their road curved a little to the sea, and at its last 
 bend they were close to the pebbly ridge on which the 
 Tower was built. He touched the electric bell and 
 stopped the car. 
 
 " Do let us walk along and have a look at my queer 
 possession once more," he begged. " Luncheon, you 
 told me, is not till half-past one, and it is a quarter to 
 now." 
 
 She hesitated for a moment and then assented. 
 They left the car and walked along the little track, 
 bordered with white posts, which led on to the ridge. 
 To their right was the village, separated from them 
 only by one level stretch of meadowland ; in the back- 
 ground, the hall. They turned along the raised dike 
 just inside the pebbly beach, and she showed her com- 
 panion the narrow waterway up to the village. At its 
 entrance was a tall iron upright, with a ladder at- 
 tached and a great lamp at the top. 
 
 " That is to show them the way in at night, isn't 
 it? " he asked. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Yes," she told him. " Mr. Fentolin had it placed 
 there. And yet," she went on, " curiously enough, 
 since it was erected, there have been more wrecks than 
 ever." 
 
 " It doesn't seem a dangerous beach," he remarked. 
 
 She pointed to a spot about fifty yards from the 
 Tower. It was the spot to which the woman whom 
 he had met on the day of his arrival had pointed. 
 
 " You can't see them," she said ; " they are always 
 out of sight, even when the tide is at the lowest but
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 151 
 
 there are some hideous sunken rocks there. ' The 
 Daggers,' they call them. One or two fishing boats 
 have been lost on them, trying to make the village. 
 When Mr. Fentolin put up the lamp, every one thought 
 that it would be quite safe to try and get in at night. 
 This winter, though, there have been three wrecks 
 which no one could understand. It must be something 
 in the currents, or a sort of optical illusion, because 
 in the last shipwreck one man was saved, and he swore 
 that at the time they struck the rock, they were 
 headed straight for the light." 
 
 They had reached the Tower now. Hamel became 
 a little absorbed. They walked around it, and he 
 tried the front door. He found, as he had expected, 
 that it opened readily. He looked around him for 
 several moments. 
 
 " Your uncle has been here this morning," he re- 
 marked quietly. 
 
 " Very likely." 
 
 " That outhouse," he continued, " must be quite a 
 large place. Have you any idea what it is he works 
 upon there ? " 
 
 " None," she answered. 
 
 He looked around him once more. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin has been preparing for my coming," 
 he observed. " I see that he has moved a few of his 
 personal things." 
 
 She made no reply, only she shivered a little as she 
 stepped back into the sunshine. 
 
 " I don't believe you like my little domicile," he re- 
 marked, as they started off homeward. 
 
 " I don't," she admitted curtly. 
 
 " In the train," he reminded her, " you seemed
 
 i 5 2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 rather to discourage my coming here. Yet last night, 
 after dinner " 
 
 " I was wrong," she interrupted. " I should have 
 said nothing, and yet I couldn't help it. I don't sup- 
 pose it will make any difference." 
 
 " Make any difference to what ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you," she confessed. " Only I have 
 a strange antipathy to the place. I don't like it. 
 My uncle sometimes shuts himself up here for quite a 
 long time. We have an idea, Gerald and I, that 
 things happen here sometimes which no one knows of. 
 When he comes back, he is moody and ill-tempered, or 
 else half mad with excitement. He isn't always the 
 amiable creature whom you have met. He has the 
 face of an angel, but there are times " 
 
 " Well, don't let's talk about him," Hamel begged, 
 as her voice faltered. " Now that I am going to stay 
 in the neighbourhood for a few days, you must please 
 remember that it is partly your responsibility. You 
 are not going to shut yourself up, are you? You'll 
 come and play golf again? " 
 
 " If he will let me," she promised. 
 
 " I think he will let you, right enough," Hamel ob- 
 served. " Between you and me, I rather think he 
 hates having me down at the Tower at all. He will 
 encourage anything that takes me away, even as far 
 as the Golf Club." 
 
 They were approaching the Hall now. She was 
 looking once more as she had looked last night. She 
 had lost her colour, her walk was no longer buoyant. 
 She had the air of a prisoner who, after a brief spell of 
 liberty, enters once more the place of his confinement. 
 Gerald came out to meet them as they climbed the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 153 
 
 stone steps which led on to the terrace. He glanced 
 behind as he greeted them, and then almost stealthily 
 took a telegram from his pocket. 
 
 " This came for you," he remarked, handing it 
 to Hamel. " I met the boy bringing it out of the 
 office." 
 
 Hamel tore it open, with a word of thanks. Gerald 
 stood in front of him as he read. 
 
 " If you wouldn't mind putting it away at once," he 
 asked, a little uncomfortably. " You see, the tele- 
 graph office is in the place, and my uncle has a queer 
 rule that every telegram is brought to him before it is 
 delivered." 
 
 Hamel did not speak for a moment. He was look- 
 ing at the few words scrawled across the pink sheet 
 with a heavy black pencil: 
 
 " Make every enquiry In your neighbourhood 
 for an American, John P. Dunster, entrusted 
 with message of great importance, addressed to 
 Von Dusenberg, The Hague. Is believed to 
 have been in railway accident near Wymondham, 
 and to have been taken from inn by young man 
 in motor-car. Suggest that he is being im- 
 properly detained." 
 
 Hamel crumpled up the telegram and thrust it into 
 his pocket. 
 
 " By-the-by," he asked, as they ascended the steps, 
 " what did you say the name of this poor fellow was 
 who is lying ill up-stairs? " 
 
 Gerald hesitated for a moment. Then he answered 
 as though a species of recklessness had seized him. 
 
 " He called himself Mr. John P. Dunster."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, having succeeded in getting rid of his 
 niece and his somewhat embarrassing guest for at least 
 two hours, was seated in his study, planning out a 
 somewhat strenuous morning, when his privacy was 
 invaded by Doctor Sarson. 
 
 " Our guest," the latter announced, in his usual 
 cold and measured tones, " has sent me to request that 
 you will favour him with an interview." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down. 
 
 " So soon," he murmured. " Very well, Sarson, I 
 am at his service. Say that I will come at once." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin lost no time in paying this suggested 
 visit. Mr. John P. Dunster, shaved and clothed, was 
 seated in an easy-chair drawn up to the window of his 
 room, smoking what he was forced to confess was a 
 very excellent cigar. He turned his head as the door 
 opened, and Mr. Fentolin waved his hand pleasantly. 
 
 " Really," he declared, " this is most agreeable. I 
 had an idea, Mr. Dunster, that I should find you a 
 reasonable person. Men of your eminence in their 
 profession usually are." 
 
 Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously. 
 
 " And what might my profession be, Mr. Fento- 
 lin ? " he asked. " You seem to know a great deal 
 about me." 
 
 " It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted. " I do know 
 a great deal."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 155 
 
 Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I have been the bearer of several 
 important communications from my side of the At- 
 lantic to England and to the Continent, and I have 
 always known that there was a certain amount of risk 
 in the business. Once I had an exceedingly narrow 
 shave," he continued reminiscently, ' ! but this is the 
 first time I have ever been dead up against it, and I 
 don't mind confessing that you've fairly got me 
 puzzled. Who the mischief are you, Mr. Fentolin, 
 and what are you interfering about? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled queerly. 
 
 " I am what you see," he replied. " I am one of 
 those unfortunate human beings who, by reason of 
 their physical misfortunes, are cut off from the world 
 of actual life. I have been compelled to seek distrac- 
 tion in strange quarters. I have wealth great 
 wealth I suppose I should say; an inordinate curios- 
 ity, a talent for intrigue. As to the direction in which 
 I carry on my intrigues, or even as to the direct in- 
 terests which I study, that is a matter, Mr. Dunster, 
 upon which I shall not gratify your curiosity nor 
 anybody else's. But, you see, I am admitting freely 
 that it does interest me to interfere in great affairs." 
 
 " But how on earth did you get to know about 
 me," Mr. Dunster asked, " and my errand ? You 
 couldn't possibly have got me here in an ordinary way. 
 It was an entire fluke." 
 
 " There, you speak with some show of reason. I 
 have a nephew whom you have met, who is devoted to 
 me." 
 
 " Mr. Gerald Fentolin," Mr. Dunster remarked 
 drily.
 
 156 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Precisely," Mr. Fentolin declared. " Well, I ad- 
 mit frankly the truth of what you say. Your er 
 shall we say capture, was by way of being a gigan- 
 tic fluke. My nephew's instructions simply were to 
 travel down by the train to Harwich with you, to 
 endeavour to make your acquaintance, to follow you 
 on to your destination, and, if any chance to do so 
 occurred, to relieve you of your pocket-book. That, 
 however, I never ventured to expect. What really 
 happened was, as you have yourself suggested, almost 
 in the nature of a miracle. My nephew showed him- 
 self to be possessed of gifts which were a revelation 
 to me. He not only succeeded in travelling with you 
 by the special train, but after its wreck he was clever 
 enough to bring you here, instead of delivering you 
 over to the mercies of a village doctor. I really can- 
 not find words to express my appreciation of my 
 nephew's conduct." 
 
 " I could," Mr. Dunster muttered, " very easily ! '* 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. 
 
 " Perhaps our points of view might differ." 
 
 " We have spent a very agreeable few minutes in 
 explanations," Mr. Dunster continued. " Would it 
 be asking too much if I now suggest that we remove 
 the buttons from our foils ? " 
 
 "Why not?" Mr. Fentolin assented smoothly. 
 ' Your first question to yourself, under these circum- 
 stances, would naturally be : ' What does Mr. Fentolin 
 want with me? ' I will answer that question for you. 
 All that I ask it is really very little is the word 
 agreed upon." 
 
 Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and 
 looked steadfastly at his host for a moment.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 157 
 
 " So you have interpreted my cipher? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in 
 a delicate gesture. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Dunster," he said, " one of the 
 simplest, I think, that was ever strung together. I 
 am somewhat of an authority upon ciphers." 
 
 " I gather," Mr. Dunster went on, although his 
 cigar was burning itself out, " that you have broken 
 the seal of my dispatches ? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard 
 a discord. 
 
 " Nothing so clumsy as that, I hope," he mur- 
 mured gently. " I will not insult a person of your 
 experience and intelligence by enumerating the various 
 ways in which the seal of a dispatch may be liquefied. 
 It is quite true that I have read with much pleasure 
 the letter which you are carrying from a certain 
 group of very distinguished men to a certain person 
 now in The Hague. The letter, however, is replaced 
 in its envelope ; the seal is still there. You need have 
 no fears whatever concerning it. All that I require 
 is that one word from you." 
 
 " And if I give you that one word? " Mr. Dunster 
 asked. 
 
 " If you give it me, as I think you will," Mr. Fento- 
 lin replied suavely, " I shall then telegraph to my 
 agent, or rather I should say to a dear friend of 
 mine who lives at The Hague, and that single word 
 will be cabled by him from The Hague to New 
 York." 
 
 " And in that case," Mr. Dunster enquired, " what 
 would become of me? " 
 
 " You would give us the great pleasure of your
 
 I 5 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 company here for a very brief visit," Mr. Fentolin 
 answered. " We should, I can assure you, do our 
 very best to entertain you." 
 
 " And the dispatch which I am carrying to The 
 Hague?" 
 
 " Would remain here with you." 
 
 Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. 
 Without being a man of great parts, he was a shrewd 
 person, possessed of an abundant stock of common 
 sense. He applied himself, for a few moments, to a 
 consideration of this affair, without arriving at any 
 satisfactory conclusion. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Fentolin," he said at last, " you must 
 really forgive me, but I can't see what you're driving 
 at. You are an Englishman, are you not? " 
 
 " I am an Englishman," Mr. Fentolin confessed ; 
 " or rather," he added, with ghastly humour, " I am 
 half an Englishman." 
 
 " You are, I am sure," Mr. Dunster continued, " a 
 person of intelligence, a well-read person, a person of 
 perceptions. Surely you can see and appreciate the 
 danger with which your country is threatened ? " 
 
 " With regard to political affairs," Mr. Fentolin 
 admitted, " I consider myself unusually well posted 
 in fact, the study of the diplomatic methods of the 
 various great Powers is rather a hobby of mine." 
 
 " Yet," Mr. Dunster persisted, " you do not wish 
 this letter delivered to that little conference in The 
 Hague, which you must be aware is now sitting prac- 
 tically to determine the fate of your nation ? " 
 
 " I do not wish," Mr. Fentolin replied, " I do not 
 intend, that that letter shall be delivered. Why do 
 you worry about my point of view? I may have a
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 159 
 
 dozen reasons. I may believe that it will be good for 
 my country to suffer a little chastisement." 
 
 " Or you may," Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing 
 keenly at his host, " be the paid agent of some foreign 
 Power." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head. 
 
 " My means," he pointed out, " should place me 
 above such suspicion. My income, I really believe, is 
 rather more than fifty thousand pounds a year. I 
 should not enter into these adventures, which nat- 
 urally are not entirely dissociated from a certain 
 amount of risk, for the purposes of financial gain." 
 
 Mr. Dunster was still mystified. 
 
 " Granted that you do so from pure love of ad- 
 venture," he declared, " I still cannot see why you 
 should range yourself on the side of your country's 
 enemies." 
 
 " In time," Mr. Fentolin observed, " even that may 
 become clear to you. At present, well just that 
 word, if you please ? " 
 
 Mr. Dunster shook his head. 
 
 " No," he decided, " I do not think so. I cannot 
 make up my mind to tell you that word." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin gave no sign of annoyance or even dis- 
 appointment. He simply sighed. His eyes were full 
 of a gentle sympathy, his face indicated a certain 
 amount of concern. 
 
 " You distress me," he declared. " Perhaps it is 
 my fault. I have not made myself sufficiently clear. 
 The knowledge of that word is a necessity to me. 
 Without it I cannot complete my plans. Without it I 
 very much fear, dear Mr. Dunster, that your sojourn 
 among us may be longer than you have any idea of."
 
 160 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively. 
 
 " We've passed those days," he remarked. " I've 
 done my best to enter into the humour of this situa- 
 tion, but there are limits. You can't keep prisoners 
 in English country houses, nowadays. There are a 
 dozen ways of communicating with the outside world, 
 and when that's once done, it seems to me that the 
 position of Squire Fentolin of St. David's Hall might 
 be a little peculiar." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very 
 
 blandly. 
 
 " Alas, my stalwart friend, I fear that you are by 
 nature an optimist ! I am not a betting man, but I 
 am prepared to bet you a hundred pounds to one that 
 you have made your last communication with the out- 
 side world until I say the word." 
 
 Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied 
 with either courage or bravado, for he only laughed. 
 
 " Then you had better make up your mind at once, 
 Mr. Fentolin, how soon that word is to be spoken, or 
 you may lose your money," he remarked. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair. 
 
 " You mean, then," he asked, " that you do not in- 
 tend to humour me in this little matter? " 
 
 " I do not intend," Mr. Dunster assured him, " to 
 part with that word to you or to any one else in the 
 the world. When my message has been presented to 
 the person to whom it has been addressed, when my 
 trust is discharged, then and then only shall I send 
 that cablegram. That moment can only arrive at the 
 end of my journey." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin leaned now a little forward in his 
 chair. His face was still smooth and expressionless,
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 161 
 
 but there was a queer sort of meaning in his 
 words. 
 
 " The end of your journey," he said grimly, " may 
 be nearer than you think." 
 
 " If I am not heard of in The Hague to-morrow at 
 the latest," Mr. Dunster pointed out, " remember that 
 before many more hours have passed, I shall be 
 searched for, even to the far corners of the earth." 
 
 " Let me assure you," Mr. Fentolin promised se- 
 renely, " that though your friends search for you up 
 in the skies or down in the bowels of the earth, they 
 will not find you. My hiding-places are not as other 
 people's." 
 
 Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt fore- 
 finger upon the table which stood by his side. 
 
 " That's not the sort of talk I understand," he de- 
 clared curtly. " Let us understand one another, if we 
 can. What is to happen to me, if I refuse to give 
 you that word? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as 
 though to shut out some unwelcome vision. 
 
 " Dear me," he exclaimed, " how unpleasant ! 
 Why should you force me to disclose my plans? Be 
 content, dear Mr. Dunster, with the knowledge of 
 this one fact: we cannot part with you. I have 
 thought it over from every point of view, and I have 
 come to that conclusion ; always presuming," he went 
 on, " that the knowledge of that little word of which 
 we have spoken remains in its secret chamber of your 
 memory." 
 
 Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes. 
 
 " I am very comfortable here," he remarked. 
 
 " You delight me," Mr. Fentolin murmured.
 
 162 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 * Your cook," Mr. Dunster continued, " has wor 
 my heartfelt appreciation. Your cigars and wines 
 are fit for any nobleman. Perhaps, after all, this lit- 
 tle rest is good for me." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin listened attentively. 
 
 " Do not forget," he said, " that there is always a 
 limit fixed, whether it be one day, two days, or three 
 days." 
 
 " A limit to your complacence, I presume? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin assented. 
 
 " Obviously, then," Mr. Dunster concluded, " you 
 wish those who sent me to believe that my message has 
 been delivered. Yet there I must confess that you 
 puzzle me. What I cannot see is, to put it bluntly, 
 where you come in. Any one of the countries repre- 
 sented at this little conference would only be the gain- 
 ers by the miscarriage of my message, which is, with- 
 out doubt, so far as they are concerned, of a distaste- 
 ful nature. Your own country alone could be the suf- 
 ferer. Now what interest in the world, then, is there 
 left what interest in the world can you possibly rep- 
 resent which can be the gainer by your present ac- 
 tion?" 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. 
 There was a light upon his face strange to witness. 
 
 " The power which is to be the gainer," he said 
 quietly, " is the power encompassed by these walls." 
 
 He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were 
 folded upon it. 
 
 " When I meet a man whom I like," he continued 
 softly, " I take him into my confidence. Picture me, 
 if you will, as a kind of Puck. Haven't you heard 
 that with the decay of the body comes sometimes a
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 163 
 
 malignant growth in the brain; a Caliban-like desire 
 for evil to fall upon the world ; a desire to escape from 
 the loneliness of suffering, the isolation of black mis- 
 ery?" 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster let his cigar burn out. He 
 looked steadfastly at this strange little figure whose 
 chair had imperceptibly moved a little nearer to his. 
 
 " You know what the withholding of this message 
 you carry may mean," Mr. Fentolin proceeded. 
 " You come here, bearing to Europe the word of a 
 great people, a people whose voice is powerful enough 
 even to still the gathering furies. I have read your 
 ciphered message. It is what I feared. It is my will, 
 mine Miles Fentolin's that that message be not 
 delivered." 
 
 " I wonder," Mr. Dunster muttered under his 
 breath, " whether you are in earnest." 
 
 " In your heart," Mr. Fentolin told him, " you 
 know that I am. I can see the truth in your face. 
 Now, for the first time, you begin to understand." 
 
 " To a certain extent," Mr. Dunster admitted. 
 " Where I am still in the dark, however, is why you 
 should expect that I should become your confederate. 
 It is true that by holding me up and obstructing my 
 message, you may bring about the evil you seek, but 
 unless that word is cabled back to New York, and my 
 senders believe that my message has been delivered, 
 there can be no certainty. What has been trusted to 
 me as the safest means of transmission, might, in an 
 emergency, be committed to a cable." 
 
 " Excellent reasoning," Fentolin agreed. " For 
 the very reasons you name that word will be given." 
 
 Mr. Dunster's face was momentarily troubled.
 
 164 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 There was something in the still, cold emphasis of 
 this man's voice which made him shiver. 
 
 " Do you think," Mr. Fentolin went on, " that I 
 spend a great fortune buying the secrets of the world, 
 that I live from day to day with the risk of igno- 
 minious detection always hovering about me do 
 you think that I do this and am yet unprepared to 
 run the final risks of life and death? Have you ever 
 talked with a murderer, Mr. Dunster? Has curi- 
 osity ever taken you within the walls of Sing Sing? 
 Have you sat within the cell of a doomed man and 
 felt the thrill of his touch, of his close presence? 
 Well, I will not ask you those questions. I will sim- 
 ply tell you that you are talking to one now." 
 
 Mr. Dunster had forgotten his extinct cigar. He 
 found it difficult to remove his eyes from Mr. Fento- 
 lin's face. He was half fascinated, half stirred with 
 a vague, mysterious fear. Underneath these wild 
 words ran always that hard note of truth. 
 
 " You seem to be in earnest," he muttered. 
 
 " I am," Mr. Fentolin assured him quietly. " I 
 have more than once been instrumental in bringing 
 about the death of those who have crossed my pur- 
 poses. I plead guilty to the weakness of Nero. Suf- 
 fering and death are things of joy to me. There! " 
 
 " I am not sure," Mr. Dunster said slowly, " that I 
 ought not to wring your neck." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch 
 or two. There was never a time when his expression 
 had seemed more seraphic. 
 
 " There* is no emergency of that sort," he re- 
 marked, " for which I am not prepared." 
 
 His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his
 
 cuff. He backed his chair slowly and with wonder- 
 ful skill towards the door. 
 
 \y e w iu fi x the period of your probation, Mr. 
 Dunster, at say, twenty-four hours," he decided. 
 " Please make yourself until then entirely at home. 
 My cook, my cellar, my cigar cabinets, are at your 
 disposal. If some happy impulse," he concluded, 
 " should show you the only reasonable course by din- 
 nertime, it would give me the utmost pleasure to have 
 you join us at that meal. I can promise you a cheque 
 beneath your plate which even you might think worth 
 considering, wine in your glass which kings might 
 sigh for, cigars by your side which even your Mr. 
 Pierpont Morgan could not buy. Au revoir ! " 
 
 The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat 
 staring into the open space like a man still a little 
 dazed.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 The beautiful but somewhat austere front of St. 
 David's Hall seemed, in a sense, transformed, as 
 Hamel and his companion climbed the worn grey 
 steps which led on to the broad sweep of terrace. Ev- 
 idently visitors had recently arrived. A dark, rather 
 good-looking woman, with pleasant round face and a 
 ceaseless flow of conversation, was chattering away to 
 Mr. Fentolin. By her side stood another woman who 
 was a stranger to Hamel thin, still elegant, with 
 tired, worn face, and the shadow of something in her 
 eyes which reminded him at once of Esther. She 
 wore a large picture hat and carried a little Pom- 
 eranian dog under her arm. In the background, 
 an insignificant-looking man with grey side- 
 whiskers and spectacles was beaming upon every- 
 body. Mr. Fentolin waved his hand and beckoned 
 to Hamel and Esther as they somewhat hesitatingly 
 approached. 
 
 " This is one of my fortunate mornings, you see, 
 Esther ! " he exclaimed, smiling. " Lady Saxthorpe 
 has brought her husband over to lunch. Lady 
 Saxthorpe," he added, turning to the woman at his 
 side, " let me present to you the son of one of the 
 first men to realise the elusive beauty of our coast. 
 This is Mr. Hamel, son of Peter Hamel, R.A. the 
 Countess of Saxthorpe." 
 
 Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 167 
 
 Esther, held out her hand and smiled good-humour- 
 edly at Hamel. 
 
 " I know your father's work quite well," she de- 
 clared, " and I don't wonder that you have made a 
 pilgrimage here. They tell me that he painted nine- 
 teen pictures pictures of importance, that is to say 
 within this little area of ten miles. Do you paint, 
 Mr. Hamel?" 
 
 " Not at all," Hamel answered. 
 
 " Our friend Hamel," Mr. Fentolin intervened, 
 " woos other and sterner muses. He fights nature 
 in distant countries, spans her gorges with iron 
 bridges, stems the fury of her rivers, and carries to 
 the boundary of the world that little twin line of 
 metal which brings men like ants to the work-heaps of 
 the universe. My dear Florence," he added, suddenly 
 turning to the woman at his other side, " for the 
 moment I had forgotten. You have not met our 
 guest yet. Hamel, this is my sister-in-law, Mrs. 
 Seymour Fentolin." 
 
 She held out her hand to him, unnaturally thin and 
 white, covered with jewels. Again he saw something 
 in her eyes which stirred him vaguely. 
 
 " It is so nice that you are able to spend a few days 
 with us, Mr. Hamel," she said quietly. " I am sorry 
 that I have been too indisposed to make your ac- 
 quaintance earlier." 
 
 " And, Saxthorpe," Mr. Fentolin continued, " you 
 must know my young friend here, too. Mr. Hamel 
 Lord Saxthorpe." 
 
 The latter shook hands heartily with the young 
 man. 
 
 " I knew your father quite well," he announced.
 
 i68 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Queer thing, he used to hang out for months at a 
 time at that little shanty on the beach there. Hard- 
 est work in the world to get him away. He came over 
 to dine with us once or twice, but we saw scarcely any- 
 thing of him. I hope his son will not prove so ob- 
 durate." 
 
 " You are very kind," Hamel murmured. 
 
 " Mr. Hamel came into these parts to claim his 
 father's property," Mr. Fentolin said. " However, 
 I have persuaded him to spend a day or two up here 
 before he transforms himself into a misanthrope. 
 What of his golf, Esther, eh? " 
 
 " Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed," the girl re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Your niece was too good for me," Hamel con- 
 fessed. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. 
 
 " The politeness of this younger generation," he 
 remarked, " keeps the truth sometimes hidden from 
 ' us. I perceive that I shall not be told who won. 
 Lady Saxthorpe, you are fortunate indeed in the 
 morning you have chosen for your visit. There is no 
 sun in the world like an April siin, and no corner of 
 the earth where it shines with such effect as here. 
 Look steadily to the eastward of that second dike 
 and you will see the pink light upon the sands, which 
 baffled every one until our friend Hamel came and 
 caught it on his canvas." 
 
 " I do see it," Lady Saxthorpe murmured. " What 
 eyes you have, Mr. Fentolin! What perception for 
 colour ! " 
 
 " Dear lady," Mr. Fentolin said, " I am one of 
 those who benefit by 'the law of compensations. On
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 169 
 
 a morning like this I can spend hours merely feasting 
 my eyes upon this prospect, and I can find, if not hap- 
 piness, the next best thing. The world is full of 
 beautiful places, but the strange part of it is that 
 beauty has countless phases, and each phase differs in 
 some subtle and unexplainable manner from all others. 
 Look with me fixedly, dear Lady Saxthorpe. Look, 
 indeed, with more than your eyes. Look at that flush 
 of wild lavender, where it fades into the sands on one 
 side, and strikes the emerald green of that wet sea- 
 moss on the other. Look at the liquid blue of that 
 tongue of sea which creeps along its bed through the 
 yellow sands, through the dark meadowland, which 
 creeps and oozes and widens till in an hour's time it 
 will have become a river. Look at my sand islands, 
 virgin from the foot of man, the home of sea-gulls, 
 the islands of a day. There may be other and 
 more beautiful places. There is none quite like this." 
 
 " I pity you no longer," Lady Saxthorpe asserted 
 fervently. " The eyes of the artist are a finer pos- 
 session than the limbs of the athlete." 
 
 The butler announced luncheon, and they all 
 trooped in. Hamel found himself next to Lady Sax- 
 thorpe. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Fentolin has been so kind," she confided 
 to him as they took their places. " I came in fear and 
 trembling to ask for a very small cheque for my dear 
 brother's diocese. My brother is a colonial bishop, 
 you know. Can you imagine what Mr. Fentolin has 
 given me ? " 
 
 Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe con- 
 tinued with an air of triumph. 
 
 " A thousand pounds ! Just fancy that a thou-
 
 170 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 sand pounds ! And some people say he is so diffi- 
 cult," she went on, dropping her voice. " Mrs. Hun- 
 gerford came all the way over from Norwich to beg 
 for the infirmary there, and he gave her nothing." 
 
 " What was his excuse? " Hamel asked. 
 
 " I think he told her that it was against his princi- 
 ples to give to hospitals," Lady Saxthorpe replied. 
 " He thinks that they should be supported out of the 
 rates." 
 
 " Some people have queer ideas of charity," Hamel 
 remarked. " Now I am afraid that if I had been 
 Mr. Fentolin, I would have given the thousand pounds 
 willingly to a hospital, but not a penny to a mission." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He 
 was some distance away, but his hearing was won- 
 derful. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Hamel," he said, " believe me, mis- 
 sions are very wonderful things. It is only from a 
 very careful study of their results that I have brought 
 myself to be a considerable supporter of those where I 
 have some personal knowledge of the organisation. 
 Hospitals, on the other hand, provide for the poor 
 what they ought to be able to provide for themselves. 
 The one thing to avoid in the giving away of money 
 is pauperisation. What do you think, Florence? " 
 
 His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end 
 of the table, looked across at him with a bright but 
 stereotyped smile. 
 
 " I agree with you, of course, Miles. I always 
 agree with you. Mr. Fentolin has the knack of being 
 right about most things," she continued, turning to 
 Lord Saxthorpe. " His judgment is really wonder- 
 ful."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 171 
 
 " Wish we could get him to come and sit on the 
 bench sometimes, then," Lord Saxthorpe remarked 
 heartily. " Our neighbours in this part of the world 
 are not overburdened with brains. By-the-by," he 
 went on, " that reminds me. You haven't got such 
 a thing as a mysterious invalid in the house, have 
 you?" 
 
 There was a moment's rather curious silence. Mr. 
 Fentolin was sitting like a carved figure, with a glass 
 of wine half raised to his lips. Gerald had broken off 
 in the middle of a sentence and was staring at Lord 
 Saxthorpe. Esther was sitting perfectly still, her 
 face grave and calm, her eyes alone full of fear. 
 Lord Saxthorpe was not an observant man and he con- 
 tinued, quite unconscious of the sensation which his 
 question had aroused. 
 
 " Sounds a silly thing to ask you, doesn't it? 
 They're all full of it at Wells, though. I sat on the 
 bench this morning and went into the police-station for 
 a moment first. Seems they've got a long dispatch 
 from Scotland Yard about a missing man who is sup- 
 posed to be in this part of the world. He came down 
 in a special train on Tuesday night the night of 
 the great flood and his train was wrecked at Wy- 
 mondham. After that he was taken on by some one 
 in a motor-car. Colonel Renshaw wanted me to 
 allude to the matter from the bench, but it seemed to 
 me that it was an affair entirely for the police." 
 
 As though suddenly realising the unexpected inter- 
 est which his words had caused, Lord Saxthorpe 
 brought his sentence to a conclusion and glanced en- 
 quiringly around the table. 
 
 " A man could scarcely disappear in a civilised
 
 I 7 2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 neighbourhood like this," Mr. Fentolin remarked 
 quietly, " but there is a certain amount of coincidence 
 about your question. May I ask whether it was alto- 
 gether a haphazard one? " 
 
 "Absolutely," Lord Saxthorpe declared. "The 
 idea seems to be that the fellow was brought to one 
 of the houses in the neighbourhood, and we were all 
 rather chaffing one another this morning about it. 
 Inspector Yardley the stout fellow with the beard, 
 you know was just starting off in his dogcart to 
 make enquiries round the neighbourhood. If any one 
 in fiction wants a type of the ridiculous detective, 
 there he is, ready-made." 
 
 " The coincidence of your question," Mr. Fentolin 
 said smoothly, " is certainly a strange one. The 
 mysterious stranger is within our gates." 
 
 Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversa- 
 tion for far too long, laid down her knife and fork. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Fentolin ! " she exclaimed. " My 
 dear Mrs. Fentolin! This is really most exciting! 
 Do tell us all about it at once. I thought that the 
 man was supposed to have been decoyed away in a 
 motor-car. Do you know his name and all about 
 him?" 
 
 ' There are a few minor points," Mr. Fentolin mur- 
 mured, " such as his religious convictions and his size 
 in boots, which I could not swear about, but so far 
 as regards his name and his occupation, I think I can 
 gratify your curiosity. He is a Mr. John P. Dunster, 
 and he appears to be the representative of an Ameri- 
 can firm of bankers, on his way to Germany to con- 
 clude a loan." 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " Lord Saxthorpe exclaimed
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 173 
 
 wonderingly. " The fellow is actually here under 
 this roof! But who brought him? How did he find 
 his way ? " 
 
 " Better ask Gerald," Mr. Fentolin replied. " He 
 is the abductor. It seems that they both missed the 
 train from Liverpool Street, and Mr. Dunster invited 
 Gerald to travel down in his special train. Very kind 
 of him, but might have been very unlucky for Gerald. 
 As you know, they got smashed up at Wymondham, 
 and Gerald, feeling in a way responsible for him, 
 brought him on here ; quite properly, I think. Sarson 
 has been looking after him, but I am afraid he has 
 slight concussion of the brain." 
 
 " I shall remember this all my life," Lord Saxthorpe 
 declared solemnly, " as one of the most singular co- 
 incidences which has ever come within my personal 
 knowledge. Perhaps after lunch, Mr. Fentolin, you 
 will let some of your people telephone to the police- 
 station at Wells? There really is an important en- 
 quiry respecting this man. I should not be sur- 
 prised," he added, dropping his voice a little for the 
 benefit of the servants, " to find that Scotland Yard 
 ndeded him on their own account." 
 
 " In that case," Mr. Fentolin remarked, " he is 
 quite safe, for Sarson tells me there is no chance of his 
 being able to travel, at any rate for twenty-four 
 hours." 
 
 Lady Saxthorpe shivered. 
 
 " Aren't you afraid to have him in the house ? " she 
 asked, " a man who is really and actually wanted by 
 Scotland Yard? When one considers that nothing 
 ever happens here except an occasional shipwreck in 
 the winter and a flower-show in the summer, it does
 
 i 7 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 sound positively thrilling. I wonder what he has 
 done." 
 
 They discussed the subject of Mr. Dunster's pos- 
 sible iniquities. Meanwhile, a young man carrying 
 his hat in his hand had slipped in past the servants 
 and was leaning over Mr. Fentolin's chair. He laid 
 two or three sheets of paper upon the table and waited 
 while his employer glanced them through and dis- 
 missed him with a little nod. 
 
 " My wireless has been busy this morning," Mr. 
 Fentolin remarked. " We seem to have collected 
 about forty messages from different battleships and 
 cruisers. There must be a whole squadron barely 
 thirty miles out." 
 
 " You don't really think," Lady Saxthorpe asked, 
 " that there is any fear of war, do you, Mr. Fento- 
 lin?" 
 
 He answered her with a certain amount of gravity. 
 "Who can tell? The papers this morning were 
 bad. This conference at The Hague is still unex- 
 plained. France's attitude in the matter is especially 
 mysterious." 
 
 " I am a strong supporter of Lord Roberts," Lord 
 Saxthorpe said, " and I believe in the vital necessity 
 of some scheme for national service. At the same 
 time, I find it hard to believe that a successful invasion 
 of this country is within the bounds of possibility." 
 
 " I quite agree with you, Lord Saxthorpe," Mr. 
 Fentolin declared smoothly. "All the same, this 
 Hague Conference is a most mysterious affair. The 
 papers this morning are ominously silent about the 
 fleet. From the tangle of messages we have picked 
 up, I should say, without a doubt, that some form of
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 175 
 
 mobilisation is going on in the North Sea. If Lady 
 Saxthorpe thinks it warm enough, shall we take our 
 coffee upon the terrace? " 
 
 " The terrace, by all means," her ladyship assented, 
 rising from her place. " What a wonderful man you 
 are, Mr. Fentolin, with your wireless telegraphy, and 
 your telegraph office in the house, and telephones. 
 Does it really amuse you to be so modern? " 
 
 " To a certain extent, yes," Mr. Fentolin sighed, 
 as he guided his chair along the hall. " When my 
 misfortune first came, I used to speculate a good deal 
 upon the Stock Exchange. That was really the 
 reason I went in for all these modern appliances." 
 
 " And now ? " she asked. " What use do you make 
 of them now? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled quietly. He looked out sea- 
 ward, beyond the sky-line, from whence had come to 
 him, through the clouds, that tangle of messages. 
 
 " I like to feel," he said, " that the turning wheel 
 of life is not altogether out of earshot. I like to dab- 
 ble just a little in the knowledge of these things." 
 
 Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them. 
 
 " You won't forget to telephone about this guest 
 of yours ? " he asked fussily. 
 
 " It is already done," Mr. Fentolin assured him. 
 " My dear sister, why so silent ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin turned slowly towards him. She, 
 too, had been standing with her eyes fixed upon the 
 distant, sea-line. Her face seemed suddenly to have 
 aged, her forced vivacity to have departed. Her 
 little Pomeranian rubbed against her feet in vain. 
 Yet at the sound of Mr. Fentolin's voice, she seemed to 
 come back to herself as though by magic.
 
 176 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I was looking where you were looking," she de- 
 clared lightly, " just trying to see a little way beyond. 
 So silly, isn't it? Chow-Chow, you bad little dog, 
 come and you shall have your dinner." 
 
 She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord 
 Saxthorpe watched her with a shadow upon his plain, 
 good-humoured face. 
 
 " Somehow or other," he remarked quietly, " Mrs. 
 Fentolin never seems to have got over the loss of her 
 husband, does she ? How long is it since he died ? " 
 
 " Eight years," Mr. Fentolin replied. " It was 
 just six months after my own accident." 
 
 " I am losing a great deal of sympathy for you, 
 Mr. Fentolin," Lady Saxthorpe confessed, coming 
 over to his side. " You have so many resources, 
 there is so much in life which you can do. You 
 paint, as we all know, exquisitely. They tell me 
 that you play the violin like a master. You have 
 unlimited time for reading, and they say that you 
 are one of the greatest living authorities upon the 
 politics of Europe. Your morning paper must bring 
 you so much that is interesting." 
 
 " It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted, " that I have 
 compensations which no one can guess at, compensa- 
 tions which appeal to me more as time steals on. 
 And yet " 
 
 He stopped short. 
 
 "And yet?" Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrog- 
 atively. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls 
 from the lawn beneath. He pointed downwards. 
 
 " I was like that when I was his age," he said 
 quietly.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Mr. Fentolin remained upon the terrace long after 
 the departure of his guests. He had found a sunny 
 corner out of the wind, and he sat there with a tele- 
 scope by his side and a budget of newspapers upon 
 his knee. On some pretext or another he had de- 
 tained all the others of the household so that they 
 formed a little court around him. Even Hamel, 
 who had said something about a walk, had been in- 
 duced to stop by an appealing glance from Esther. 
 Mr. Fentolin was in one of his most loquacious moods. 
 For some reason or other, the visit of the Saxthorpes 
 seemed to have excited him. He talked continually, 
 with the briefest pauses. Every now and then he 
 gazed steadily across the marshes through his tele- 
 scope. 
 
 " Lord Saxthorpe," he remarked, " has, I must 
 confess, greatly excited my curiosity as to the iden- 
 tity of our visitor. Such a harmless-looking per- 
 son, he seems, to be causing such a commotion. 
 Gerald, don't you feel your responsibility in the mat- 
 ter? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do ! " Gerald replied, with unexpected 
 grimness. " I feel my responsibility deeply." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to 
 his eye, touched Hamel on the shoulder. 
 
 " My young friend," he said, " your eyes are better 
 than mine. You see the road there ? Look along it,
 
 i 7 8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 between the white posts, as far as you can. What 
 do you make of that black speck? " 
 
 Hamel held the telescope to- his eye and steadied 
 it upon the little tripod stand. 
 
 " It looks like a horse and trap," he announced. 
 
 " Good ! " Mr. Fentolin declared. " It seemed so 
 to me, but I was not sure. My eyes are weak this 
 afternoon. How many people are in the trap? " 
 
 " Two," Hamel answered. " I can see them dis- 
 tinctly now. One man is driving, another is sitting 
 by his side. They are coming this way." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared 
 almost directly. His master whispered a word in his 
 ear. The man at once departed. 
 
 " Let me make use of your eyes once more," Mr. 
 Fentolin begged. " About these two men in the 
 trap, Mr. Hamel. Is one of them, by any chance, 
 wearing a uniform? " 
 
 " They both are," Hamel replied. " The man who 
 is driving is wearing a peaked hat. He looks like a 
 police inspector. The man by his side is an ordinary 
 policeman." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. 
 
 " It is very interesting," he said. " Let us hope 
 that we shall not see an arrest under my roof. I 
 should feel it a reflection upon my hospitality. I 
 trust, I sincerely trust, that this visit does not bode 
 any harm to Mr. John P. Dunster." 
 
 Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung 
 across the terrace. Mr. Fentolin, however, called 
 him back. 
 
 " Gerald," he advised, " better not go away. The 
 inspector may desire to ask you questions. You will
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 179 
 
 have nothing to conceal. It was a natural and de- 
 lightful impulse of yours to bring the man who had 
 befriended you, and who was your companion in that 
 disaster, straight to your own home for treatment 
 and care. It was an admirable impulse, my boy. 
 You have nothing to be ashamed of." 
 
 " Shall I tell him, too " Gerald began. 
 
 "Be careful, Gerald." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's words seemed to be charged with a 
 swift, rapier-like note. The boy broke off in his 
 speech. He looked at Hamel and was silent. 
 
 " Dear me," Mrs. Fentolin mumured, " I am sure 
 there is no need for us to talk about this poor man 
 as though anybody had done anything wrong in 
 having him here. This, I suppose, must be the 
 Inspector Yardley whom Lord Saxthorpe spoke 
 of." 
 
 " A very intelligent-looking officer, I am sure," Mr. 
 Fentolin remarked. " Gerald, go and meet him, if 
 you please. I should like to speak to him out here." 
 
 The dog-cart had drawn up at the front door, 
 and the inspector had already alighted. Gerald in- 
 tervened as he was in the act of questioning the but- 
 ler. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspec- 
 tor," he said, " if you will come this way." 
 
 The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the 
 little group solemnly. Mr. Fentolin held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " You got my telephone message, inspector? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " We have not received any message that I know of, 
 sir," the inspector replied. " I have come over here
 
 i8o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 in accordance with instructions received from head- 
 quarters in fact from Scotland Yard." 
 
 " Quite so," Mr. Fentolin assented. " You've come 
 over, I presume, to make enquiries concerning Mr. 
 John P. Dunster? " 
 
 " That is the name of the gentleman, sir." 
 
 " I only understood to-day from my friend Lord 
 Saxthorpe," Mr. Fentolin continued, " that Mr. Dun- 
 ster was being enquired about as though he had dis- 
 appeared. My nephew brought him here after the 
 railway accident at Wymondham, since when he has 
 been under the care of my own physician. I trust 
 that you have nothing serious against him?" 
 
 " My first duty, sir," the inspector pronounced, 
 " is to see the gentleman in question." 
 
 " By all means," Mr. Fentolin agreed. " Gerald, 
 will you take the inspector up to Mr. Dunster's 
 rooms? Or stop, I will go myself." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin started his chair and beckoned the 
 inspector to follow him. Meekins, who was waiting 
 inside the hall, escorted them by means of the lift to 
 the second floor. They made their way to Mr. Dun- 
 ster's room. Mr. Fentolin knocked softly at the 
 door. It was opened by the nurse. 
 
 " How is the patient? " Mr. Fentolin enquired. 
 
 Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the 
 room. 
 
 " Still unconscious," he reported. " Otherwise, the 
 symptoms are favourable. He is quite unfit," the 
 doctor added, looking steadily at the inspector, " to 
 be removed or questioned." 
 
 "There is no idea of anything of the sort," Mr. 
 Fentolin explained. " It is Inspector Yardley's duty
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 181 
 
 to satisfy himself that Mr. Dunster is here. It is 
 necessary for the inspector to see your patient, so 
 that he can make his report at headquarters." 
 
 Doctor Sarson bowed. 
 
 " That is quite simple, sir," he said. " Please step 
 in." 
 
 They all entered the room, which was large and 
 handsomely furnished. Through the open windows 
 came a gentle current of fresh air. Mr. Dunster lay 
 in the midst of all the luxury of fine linen sheets and 
 embroidered pillow-cases. The inspector looked at 
 him stolidly. 
 
 " Is he asleep ? " he asked. 
 
 The doctor shook his head. 
 
 " It is the third day of his concussion," he whis- 
 pered. " He is still unconscious. He will remain in 
 the same condition for another two days. After that 
 he will begin to recover." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm. 
 
 " You see his clothing at the foot of the bed," he 
 pointed out. " His linen is marked with his name. 
 That is his dressing-case with his name painted on 
 it." 
 
 " I am quite satisfied, sir," the inspector announced. 
 " I will not intrude any further." 
 
 They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted 
 the inspector into the library and ordered whisky 
 and cigars. 
 
 " I don't know whether I am unreasonably curious," 
 Mr. Fentolin remarked, " but is it really true that 
 you have had enquiries from Scotland Yard about 
 the poor fellow up-stairs? " 
 
 " We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir,"
 
 182 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 the inspector replied. " I have instructions to tele 
 graph all I have been able to discover, immediately." 
 
 " Pardon my putting it plainly," Mr. Fentolin 
 asked, " but is our friend a criminal? " 
 
 " I wouldn't go so far as that, sir," the inspector 
 answered. " I know of no charge against him. I 
 don't know that I have the right to say so much," 
 he added, sipping his whisky and soda, " but put- 
 ting two and two together, I should rather come to 
 the conclusion that he was a person of some political 
 importance." 
 
 " Not a criminal at all? " 
 
 " Not as I know of," the inspector assented. 
 " That isn't the way I read the- enquiries at all." 
 
 " You relieve me," Mr. Fentolin declared. " Now 
 what about his possessions ? " 
 
 " There's a man coming down shortly from Scot- 
 land Yard," the inspector announced, a little gloom- 
 ily. " My orders were to touch nothing, but to locate 
 him." 
 
 " Well, you've succeeded so far," Mr. Fentolin re- 
 marked. " Here he is, and here I think he will stay 
 until some days after your friend from Scotland 
 Yard can get here." 
 
 " It does seem so, indeed," the inspector agreed. 
 " To roe he looks terrible ill. But there's one thing 
 sure, he's having all the care and attention that's 
 possible. And now, sir, I'll not intrude further upon 
 your time. I'll just make my report, and you'll 
 probably have a visit from the Scotland Yard man 
 sometime within the next few days." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin escorted the inspector to his dog-cart, 
 shook hands with him, and watched him drive off.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 183 
 
 Only Mrs. Seymour Fentolin remained upon the ter- 
 race. He glided over to her side. 
 
 " My dear Florence," he asked, " where are the 
 others?" 
 
 " Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk," 
 she answered. " Gerald has disappeared somewhere. 
 Has anything is everything all right ? " 
 
 " Naturally," Mr. Fentolin replied easily. " All 
 that the inspector desired was to see Mr. Dunster. 
 He has seen him. The poor fellow was unfortunately 
 unconscious, but our friend will at least be able to 
 report that he was in good hands and well cared for." 
 
 " Unconscious," Mrs. Fentolin repeated. " I 
 thought that he was better." 
 
 " One is always subject to those slight relapses in 
 an affair of concussion," Mr. Fentolin explained. 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin laid down her work and leaned a 
 little towards her brother-in-law. Her hand rested 
 upon his. Her voice had fallen to a whisper. 
 
 " Miles," she said, " forgive me, but are you sure 
 that you are not getting a little out of your depth? 
 Remember that there are some risks which are not 
 worth while." 
 
 " Quite true," he answered. " And there are some 
 risks, my dear Florence, which are worth every drop 
 of blood in a man's body, and every breath of life. 
 The peace of Europe turns upon that man up-stairs. 
 It is worth taking a little risk for, worth a little 
 danger. I have made my plans, and I mean to carry 
 them through. Tell me, when I was up-stairs, this 
 fellow Hamel was he talking confidentially to Ger- 
 ald? " 
 
 " Not particularly."
 
 i8 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I am not sure that I trust him," Mr. Fentolin 
 continued. " He had a telegram yesterday from a 
 man in the Foreign Office, a telegram which I did not 
 see. He took the trouble to walk three miles to send 
 the reply to it from another office." 
 
 " But after all," Mrs. Fentolin protested, " you 
 know who he is. You know that he is Peter Hamel's 
 son. He had a definite purpose in coming here." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded. 
 
 " Quite true," he admitted. " But for that, Mr. 
 Hamel would have found a little trouble before now. 
 As it is, he must be watched. If any one comes be- 
 tween me and the things for which I am scheming 
 to-day, they will risk death." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin sighed. She was watching the fig- 
 ures of Esther and Hamel far away in the distance, 
 picking their way across the last strip of marshland 
 which lay between them and the sea. 
 
 " Miles," she said earnestly, " you take advice from 
 no one. You will go your own way, I know. And 
 yet, it seems to me that life holds so many compensa- 
 tions for you without your taking these terrible risks. 
 I am not thinking of any one else. I am not pleading 
 to you for the sake of any one else. I am thinking 
 only of yourself. I have had a sort of feeling ever 
 since this man was brought into the house, that 
 trouble would come of it. To me the trouble seems 
 to be gathering even now." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptu- 
 ously. 
 
 " Presentiments," he scoffed, " are the excuses of 
 cowards. Don't be afraid, Florence. Remember al- 
 ways that I look ahead. Do you think that I could
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 185 
 
 stay here contented with what you call my compensa- 
 tions my art, the study of beautiful things, the 
 calm epicureanism of the sedate and simple life ? You 
 know very well that I could not do that. The craving 
 for other things is in my heart and blood. The ex- 
 citement which I cannot have in one way, I must find 
 in another, and I think that before many nights have 
 passed, I shall lie on my pillow and hear the guns 
 roar, hear the footsteps of the great armies of the 
 world moving into battle. It is for that I live, 
 Florence." 
 
 She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were 
 fixed upon the sky-line. Twice she opened her lips, 
 but twice no words came. 
 
 "You understand?" he whispered. "You begin 
 to understand, don't you? " 
 
 She looked at him only for a moment and back at 
 her work. 
 
 " I suppose so," she sighed.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 In the middle of that night Hamel sat up in bed, 
 awakened with a sudden start by some sound, only the 
 faintest echo of which remained in his consciousness. 
 His nerves were tingling with a sense of excitement. 
 He sat up in bed and listened. Suddenly it came 
 again a long, low moan of pain, stifled at the end 
 as though repressed by some outside agency. He 
 leaped from his bed, hurried on a few clothes, and 
 stepped out on to the landing. The cry had seemed 
 to him to come from the further end of the long cor- 
 ridor in the direction, indeed, of the room where 
 Mr. Dunster lay. He made his way there, walking 
 on tiptoe, although his feet fell noiselessly upon the 
 thick carpet. A single light was burning from a 
 bracket in the wall, insufficient to illuminate the empty 
 spaces, but enough to keep him from stumbling. The 
 corridor towards the south end gradually widened, 
 terminating in a splendid high window with stained 
 glass, a broad seat, and a table. On the right, the 
 end room was Mr. Dunster's apartment, and on the 
 left a flight of stairs led to the floor above. Hamel 
 stood quite still, listening. There was a light in the 
 room, as he could see from under the door, but there 
 was no sound of any one moving. JIamel listened in- 
 tently, every sense strained. Then the sound of a 
 stair creaking behind diverted his attention. He 
 looked quickly around. Gerald was descending.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 187 
 
 The boy's face was white, and his eyes were filled with 
 fear. Hamel stepped softly back from the door and 
 met him at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 " Did you hear that cry ? " he whispered. 
 
 Gerald nodded. 
 
 " It woke me up. What do you suppose it was? " 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " Some one in pain," he replied. " I don't under- 
 stand it. It came from this room." 
 
 "You know who sleeps there?" Gerald asked 
 hoarsely. 
 
 Hamel nodded. 
 
 " A man with concussion of the brain doesn't cry 
 out like that. Besides, did you hear the end of it? 
 It sounded as though some one were choking him. 
 Hush!" 
 
 They had spoken only in bated breath, but the 
 door of the room before which they were standing 
 was suddenly opened. Meekins stood there, fully 
 dressed, his dark, heavy face full of somber warning. 
 He started a little as he saw the two whispering to- 
 gether. Gerald addressed him almost apologetically. 
 
 " We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any 
 one ill? It sounded like some one in pain." 
 
 The man hesitated. Then from behind his shoulder 
 came Mr. Fentolin's still, soft voice. There was a 
 little click, and Meekins, as though obeying an un- 
 seen gesture, stepped back. Mr. Fentolin glided on 
 to the threshold. He was still dressed. He pro- 
 pelled his chair a few yards down the corridor and 
 beckoned them to approach. 
 
 " I am so sorry," he said softly, " that you should 
 have been disturbed, Mr. Hamel. We have been a
 
 i88 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 little anxious about our mysterious guest. Doctor 
 Sarson fetched me an hour ago. He discovered that 
 it was necessary to perform a very slight operation, 
 merely the extraction of a splinter of wood. It is all 
 over now, and I think that he will do very well." 
 
 Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, 
 Hamel was conscious of the remains of an uneasiness 
 which he scarcely knew how to put into words. 
 
 " It was a most distressing cry," he observed doubt- 
 fully, " a cry of fear as well as of pain." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " Mr. Fentolin remarked compas- 
 sionately. " I am afraid that for a moment or two 
 he must have suffered acutely. Doctor Sarson is 
 very clever, however, and there is no doubt that what 
 he did was for the best. His opinion is that by 
 to-morrow morning there will be a marvellous change. 
 Good night, Mr. Hamel. I am quite sure that you 
 will not be disturbed again." 
 
 Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to 
 depart. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin," he said, " I hope that you will 
 not think that I am officious or in any way abusing 
 your hospitality, but I cannot help suggesting that 
 as Dr. Sarson is purely your household physician, 
 the relatives of this man Dunster might be better 
 satisfied if some second opinion were called in. Might 
 I suggest that you telephone to Norwich for a sur- 
 geon ? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin showed no signs of displeasure. He 
 was silent for a moment, as though considering the 
 matter. 
 
 " I am not at all sure, Mr. Hamel, that you are 
 not right," he admitted frankly. " I believe that the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 189 
 
 case is quite a simple one, but on the other hand it 
 would perhaps be more satisfactory to have an out- 
 side opinion. If Mr. Dunster is not conscious in the 
 morning, we will telephone to the Norwich Infirm- 
 ary." 
 
 " I think it would be advisable," Hamel agreed. 
 
 " Good night ! " Mr. Fentolin said once more. " 1 
 am sorry that your rest has been disturbed." 
 
 Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. 
 His eyes were fixed upon that closed door. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin," he asked, " have you any ob- 
 jection to my seeing Mr. Dunster? " 
 
 There was a moment's intense silence. A sudden 
 light had burned in Mr. Fentolin's eyes. His fingers 
 gripped the side of his chair. Yet when he spoke 
 there were no signs of anger in his tone. It was a 
 marvellous effort of self-control. 
 
 " There is no reason, Mr. Hamel," he said, " why 
 your curiosity should not be gratified. Knock softly 
 at the door, Gerald." 
 
 The boy obeyed. In a moment or two Doctor 
 Sarson appeared on the threshold. 
 
 " Our guest, Mr. Hamel," Mr. Fentolin explained 
 in a whisper, " has been awakened by this poor fel- 
 low's cry. He would like to see him for a moment." 
 
 Doctor Sarson opened the door. They all passed 
 in on tiptoe. The doctor led the way towards the 
 bed upon which Mr. Dunster was lying, quite still. 
 His head was bandaged, and his eyes closed. His 
 face was ghastly. Gerald gave vent to a little mut- 
 tered exclamation. Mr. Fentolin turned to him 
 quickly. 
 
 "Gerald!"
 
 igo THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. 
 Fentolin's eyes were riveted upon him. The doctor 
 was standing, still and dark, a motionless image.* 
 
 "Is he asleep?" Hamel asked. 
 
 " He is under the influence of a mild anaesthetic," 
 Doctor Sarson explained. " He is doing very well. 
 His case is quite simple. By to-morrow morning he 
 will be able to sit up and walk about if he wishes to." 
 
 Hamel looked steadily at the figure upon the bed. 
 Mr. Dunster's breathing was regular, and his eyes 
 were closed, but his colour was ghastly. 
 
 " He doesn't look like getting up for a good many 
 days to come," Hamel observed. 
 
 The doctor led the way towards the door. 
 
 " The man has a fine constitution," he said. " I 
 feel sure that if you wish you will be able to talk to 
 him to-morrow." 
 
 They separated 'outside in the passage. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin bade his guest a somewhat restrained good 
 night, and Gerald mounted the staircase to his room. 
 Hamel, however, had scarcely reached his door be- 
 fore Gerald reappeared. He had descended the stair- 
 case at the other end of the corridor. He stood for 
 a moment looking down the passage. The doors 
 were all closed. Even the light had been extinguished. 
 
 " May I come in for a moment, please ? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 Hamel nodded. 
 
 " With pleasure ! Come in and have a cigarette, 
 if you will. I shan't feel like sleep for some time." 
 
 They entered the room, and Gerald threw himself 
 into an easy-chair near the window. Hamel wheeled 
 up another chair and produced a box of cigarettes.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 191 
 
 " Queer thing your dropping across that fellow in 
 the way you did," he remarked. " Just shows how 
 one may disappear from the world altogether, and no 
 one be a bit the wiser." 
 
 The boy was sitting with folded arms. His ex- 
 pression was one of deep gloom. 
 
 " I only wish I'd never brought him here," he mut- 
 tered. " I ought to have known better." 
 
 Hamel raised his eyebrows. 
 
 * Isn't he as well off here as anywhere else ? " 
 
 " Do you think that he is ? " Gerald demanded, look- 
 ing across at Hamel. 
 
 There was a brief silence. 
 
 " We can scarcely do your uncle the injustice," 
 Hamel remarked, " of imagining that he can possibly 
 have any reason or any desire to deal with that man 
 except as a guest." 
 
 " Do you really believe that? " Gerald asked. 
 
 Hamel rose to his feet. 
 
 " Look here, young man," he said, " this is getting 
 serious. You and I are at cross-purposes. If you 
 like, you sha-ll have the truth from me." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " I was warned about your uncle before I came 
 down into this part of the world," Hamel continued 
 quietly. " I was told that he is a dangerous conspir- 
 ator, a man who sticks at nothing to gain his ends, 
 a person altogether out of place in these days. It 
 sounds melodramatic, but I had it straight from a 
 friend. Since I have been here, I have had a tele- 
 gram you brought it to me yourself asking for 
 information about this man Dunster. It was I who 
 wired to London that he was here. It was through
 
 *92 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 me that Scotland Yard communicated with the police- 
 station at Wells, through me that a man is to be sent 
 down from London. I didn't come here as a spy 
 don't think that; I was coming here, anyhow. On 
 the other hand, I believe that your uncle is playing 
 a dangerous game. I am going to have Mr. John P. 
 Dunster put in charge of a Norwich physician to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Thank God ! " the boy murmured. 
 
 " Look here," Hamel continued, " what are you 
 doing in this business, anyway? You are old enough 
 to know your own mind and to go your own way." 
 
 " You say that because you don't know," Gerald 
 declared bitterly. 
 
 " In a sense I don't," Hamel admitted, " and yet 
 your sister hinted to me only this afternoon that 
 you and she " 
 
 " Oh, I know what she told you ! " the boy inter- 
 rupted. " We've worn the chains for the last eight 
 years. They are breaking her. They've broken my 
 mother. Sometimes I think they are breaking me. 
 But, you know, there comes a time there comes a 
 time when one can't go on. I've seen some strange 
 things here, some that I've half understood, some that 
 I haven't understood at all. I've closed my eyes. 
 I've kept my promise. I've done his bidding, wher- 
 ever it has led me. But you know there is a time 
 there is a limit to all things. I can't go on. I spied 
 on this man Dunster. I brought him here. It is I 
 who am responsible for anything that may happen to 
 him. It's the last time ! " 
 
 Gerald's face was white with pain. Hamel laid his 
 hand upon his shoulder.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 193 
 
 " My boy," he said, " there are worse things in the 
 world than breaking a promise. When you gave it, 
 the conditions which were existing at the time made 
 it, perhaps, a right and reasonable undertaking, but 
 sometimes the whole of the conditions under which 
 a promise was given, change. Then one must have 
 courage enough to be false even to one's word." 
 
 " Have you talked to my sister like that? " Gerald 
 asked eagerly. 
 
 " I have and I will again," Hamel declared. " To- 
 morrow morning I leave this house, but before I go 
 I mean to have the affair of this man Dunster cleared 
 up. Your uncle will be very angry with me, without 
 a doubt. I don't care. But I do want you to trust 
 me, if you will, and your sister. I should like to 
 be your friend." 
 
 " God knows we need one ! " the boy said simply. 
 "Good night!" 
 
 Once more the house was quiet. Hamel pushed 
 his window wide open and looked out into the night. 
 The air was absolutely still, there was no wind. The 
 only sound was the falling of the low waves upon the 
 stony beach and the faint scrunching of the peb- 
 bles drawn back by the ebb. He looked along the 
 row of windows, all dark and silent now. A rush of 
 pleasant fancies suddenly chased away the grim de- 
 pression of the last few minutes. Out of all this sor- 
 didness and mystery there remained at least some- 
 thing in life for him to do. A certain aimlessness 
 of purpose which had troubled him during the last 
 few months had disappeared. He had found an ob- 
 ject in life.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 " To-day," Hamel declared, as he stood at the 
 sideboard the following morning at breakfast-time 
 and helped himself to bacon and eggs, " I am posi- 
 tively going to begin reading. I have a case full of 
 books down at the Tower which I haven't unpacked 
 
 yet." 
 
 Esther made a little grimace. 
 
 " Look at the sunshine," she said. " There isn't 
 a breath of wind, either. I think to-day that I could 
 play from the men's tees." 
 
 Hamel sighed as he returned to his place. 
 
 " My good intentions are already half dissipated," 
 he admitted. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " How can we attack the other half ? " she asked. 
 
 Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, 
 suddenly stopped. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he exclaimed, looking out of the win- 
 dow. " Who's going away this morning, I wonder? 
 There's the Rolls-Royce at the door." 
 
 Hamel, too, rose once more to his feet. The two 
 exchanged swift glances. Moved by a common 
 thought, they both started for the door, only to find 
 it suddenly opened before them. Mr. Fentolin glided 
 into the room. 
 
 " Uncle ! " Gerald exclaimed. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 195 
 
 " Good morning, everybody," he said. " My ap- 
 pearance at this hour of the morning naturally sur- 
 prises you. As a matter of fact, I have been up for 
 quite a long time. Esther dear, give me some coffee, 
 will you, and be sure that it is hot. If any of you 
 want to say good-by to Mr. John P. Dunster, you'd 
 better hurry out." 
 
 " You mean that he is going? " Hamel asked in- 
 credulously. 
 
 " He is going," Mr. Fentolin admitted. " I wash 
 my hands of the man. He has given us an infinite 
 amount of trouble, has monopolised Doctor Sarson 
 when he ought to have been attending upon me 
 a little more hot milk, if you please, Esther and 
 now, although he really is not fit to leave his room, 
 he insists upon hurrying off to keep an appointment 
 somewhere on the Continent. The little operation 
 we spoke of last night was successful, as Doctor Sar- 
 son prophesied, and Mr. Dunster was quite con- 
 scious and able to sit up early this morning. We 
 telephoned at six o'clock to Norwich for a surgeon, 
 who is now on his way over here, but he will not wait 
 even to see him. What can you do with a man so 
 obstinate ! " 
 
 Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. 
 The former, after a moment's hesitation, turned to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 " I think," he said, " that I should like to see the 
 last of Mr. Dunster." 
 
 " Pray do," Mr. Fentolin begged. " I have said 
 good-by to him myself, and all that I hope is that 
 next time you offer a wayfarer the hospitality of 
 St. David's Hall, Gerald, he may be a more trac-
 
 i 9 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 table person. This morning I shall give myself a 
 treat. I shall eat an old-fashioned English breakfast. 
 Close the door after you, if you please, Gerald." 
 
 Hamel, with Gerald by his side, hurried out into 
 the hall. Just as they crossed the threshold they 
 saw Mr. Dunster, wrapped from head to foot in his 
 long ulster, a soft hat upon his head and one of Mr. 
 Fentolin's cigars in his mouth, step from the bottom 
 stair into the hall and make his way with somewhat 
 uncertain footsteps towards the front door. Doc- 
 tor Sarson walked on one side, and Meekins held him 
 by the arm. He glanced towards Gerald and his 
 companion and waved the hand which held his cigar. 
 
 " So long, my young friend ! " he exclaimed. 
 " You see, I've got them to let me make a start. 
 Next time we go about the country in a saloon car 
 together, I hope we'll have better luck. Say, but 
 I'm groggy about the knees ! " 
 
 " You'd better save your breath," Doctor Sarson 
 advised him grimly. " You haven't any to spare 
 now, and you'll want more than you have before you 
 get to the end of your journey. Carefully down the 
 steps, mind." 
 
 They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald 
 stood under the great stone portico, watching. 
 
 "Well, I'm jiggered!" the boy exclaimed, under 
 his breath. 
 
 Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled 
 frown. To his surprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor 
 Meekins were accompanying the departing man. 
 
 *' He's off, right enough," Hamel declared, as the 
 car glided away. " Do you understand it ? I don't." 
 
 Gerald did not speak for several moments. His
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 197 
 
 eyes were still fixed upon the back of the disappearing 
 car. Then he turned towards Hamel. 
 
 " There isn't much," he said softly, " that Mr. 
 Fentolin doesn't know. If that detective was really 
 on his way here, there wasn't any chance of keeping 
 Mr. Dunster to himself. You see, the whole story 
 is common property. And yet, there's something 
 about the affair that bothers me." 
 
 " And me," Hamel admitted, watching the car until 
 it became a speck in the distance. 
 
 " He was fairly well cornered," Gerald concluded, 
 as they made their way back to the dining-room, 
 " but it isn't like him to let go of anything so 
 easily." 
 
 " So you've seen the last of our guest," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin remarked, as Hamel and Gerald re-entered the 
 dining-room. " A queer fellow almost a new type 
 to me. Dogged and industrious, I should think. He 
 hadn't the least right to travel, you know, and I 
 think so long as we had taken the trouble to telephone 
 to Norwich, he might have waited to see the physi- 
 cian. Sarson was very angry about it, but what can 
 you do with these fellows who are never ill? They 
 scarcely know what physical disability means. Well, 
 Mr. Hamel, and how are you going to amuse your- 
 self to-day?" 
 
 " I had thought of commencing some reading I 
 brought with me," Hamel replied, " but Miss Esther 
 has challenged me to another game of golf." 
 
 " Excellent ! " Mr. Fentolin declared. " It is very 
 kind of you indeed, Mr. Hamel. It is always a matter 
 of regret for me that society in these parts is so re- 
 stricted. My nephew and niece have little oppor-
 
 ig8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 tunity for enjoying themselves. Play golf with Mr. 
 Hamel, by all means, my dear child," he continued, 
 turning to his niece. " Make the most of this glo- 
 rious spring weather. And what about you, Gerald r 
 What are you doing to-day? " 
 
 " I haven't made up my mind yet, sir," the boy 
 replied. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " Always that lack of initiative," he remarked. 
 " A lack of initiative is one of your worst faults, I 
 am afraid, dear Gerald." 
 
 The boy looked up quickly. For a moment it 
 seemed as though he were about to make a fierce re- 
 ply. He met Mr. Fentolin's steady gaze, however, 
 and the words died away upon his lips. 
 
 " I rather thought," he said, " of going into Nor- 
 wich, if you could spare me. Captain Holt has asked, 
 me to lunch at the Barracks." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently. 
 
 " It is most unfortunate," he declared. " I have 
 a commission for you later in the day." 
 
 Gerald continued his breakfast in silence. He bent 
 over his plate so that his face was almost invisible. 
 Mr. Fentolin was peeling a peach. A servant entered 
 the room. 
 
 " Lieutenant Godfrey, sir," he announced. 
 
 They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard- 
 featured young man in naval uniform was standing 
 upon the threshold. He bowed to Esther. 
 
 " Very sorry to intrude, sir, at this hour of the 
 morning," he said briskly. " Lieutenant Godfrey, 
 my name. I am flag lieutenant of the Britannia, 
 You can't see her, but she's not fifty miles off at this
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 199 
 
 minute. I landed at Sheringham this morning, hired 
 a car and made the best of my way here. Message 
 from the Admiral, sir." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled genially. 
 
 " We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant God- 
 frey," he said. " Have some breakfast." 
 
 " You are very good, sir," the officer answered. 
 " Business first. I'll breakfast afterwards, with 
 pleasure, if I may. The Admiral's compliments, and 
 he would take it as a favour if you would haul down 
 your wireless for a few days." 
 
 " Haul down my wireless," Mr. Fentolin repeated 
 slowly. 
 
 " We are doing a lot of manoeuvring within range 
 of you, and likely to do a bit more," the young man 
 explained. " You are catching up our messages all 
 the time. Of course, we know they're quite safe with 
 you, but things get about. As yours is only a 
 private installation, we'd like you, if you don't mind, 
 sir, to shut up shop for a few days." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled, 
 
 " But, my dear sir," he protested, " we are not at 
 war, are we? " 
 
 " Not yet," the young officer replied, " but God 
 knows when we shall be! We are under sealed or- 
 ders, anyway, and we don't want any risk of our 
 plans leaking out. That's why we want your wire- 
 less disconnected." 
 
 " You need say no more," Mr. Fentolin assured 
 him. " The matter is already arranged. Esther, 
 let me present Lieutenant Godfrey my niece, Miss 
 Fentolin; Mr. Gerald Fentolin, my nephew; Mr. 
 Hamel, a guest. See that Lieutenant Godfrey has
 
 200 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 some breakfast, Gerald. I will go myself and see 
 my Marconi operator." 
 
 " Awfully good of you, sir," the young man de 
 clared, " and I am sure we are very sorry to trouble 
 you. In a week or two's time you can go into busi- 
 ness again as much as you like. It's only while we 
 are fiddling around here that the Admiral's jumpy 
 about things. May my man have a cup of coffee, 
 sir? I'd like to be on the way back in a quarter of 
 an hour." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the 
 bell, and rang it. 
 
 " Pray make use of my house as your own, sir," 
 he said gravely. " From what you leave unsaid, I 
 gather that things are more serious than the papers 
 would have us believe. Under those circumstances, 
 I need not assure you that any help we can render 
 is entirely yours." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey 
 was already attacking his breakfast. Gerald leaned 
 towards him eagerly. 
 
 " Is there really going to be war? " he de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Ask those chaps at The Hague," Lieutenant 
 Godfrey answered. "-Doing their best to freeze us 
 out, or something. All I know is, if there's going to 
 be fighting, we are ready for them. By-the-by, what 
 have you got wireless telegraphy for here, any- 
 way ? " 
 
 " It's a fad of my uncle's," Gerald replied. 
 " Since his accident he amuses himself in all sorts of 
 queer ways." 
 
 Lieutenant Godfrey nodded.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 201 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " he said. " I heard he was a 
 cripple, or something of the sort. Forgive my ask- 
 ing, but you people are English, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Rather ! " Gerald answered. " The Fentolins 
 have lived here for hundreds of years. Why do 
 you ask that ? " 
 
 Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the 
 moment, scarcely at his ease. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," he replied. " The old man 
 was very anxious I should find out. You see, a lot 
 of information seems to have got over on the other 
 side, and we couldn't think where it had leaked out, 
 except through your wireless. However, that isn't 
 likely, of course, unless you've got one of these beastly 
 Germans in your receiving-room. Now if I can bor- 
 row a cigarette, a cigar, or a pipe of tobacco any 
 mortal thing to smoke I'll be off, if I may. The 
 old man turned me out at an unearthly hour this 
 morning, and in Sheringham all the shops were closed. 
 Steady on, young fellow," he laughed, as Gerald 
 filled his pockets with cigarettes. " Well, here's 
 good morning to you, Miss Fentolin. Good morn- 
 ing, sir. How long ought it to take me to get to 
 Sheringham? " 
 
 " About forty minutes," Gerald told him, " if your 
 car's any good at all." , ' 
 
 " It isn't much," was the somewhat dubious re- 
 ply. " However, we'll shove along. You in the 
 Service ? " he enquired, as they walked down the hall 
 together. 
 
 " Hope I shall be before long," Gerald answered. 
 " I'm going into the army, though." 
 
 " Have to hurry up, won't you ? "
 
 202 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Gerald sighed. 
 
 " It's a little difficult for me. Here's your car. 
 Good luck to you ! " 
 
 " My excuses to Mr. Fentolin," Lieutenant God- 
 frey snouted, " and many thanks." 
 
 He jumped into the automobile and was soon on 
 his way back. Gerald watched him until he was 
 nearly out of sight. On the knoll, two of the wireless 
 operators were already at work. Mr. Fentolin sat 
 in his chair below, watching. The blue sparks were 
 flashing. A message was just being delivered. Pres- 
 ently Mr. Fentolin turned his chair, and with Meekins 
 by his side, made his way back to the house. He 
 passed along the hall and into his study. Gerald, 
 who was on his way to the dining-room, heard the ring 
 of the telephone bell and the call for the trunk spe- 
 cial line. He hesitated for a moment. Then he made 
 h\s way slowly down towards the study and stood 
 outside the door, listening. In a moment he heard 
 Mr. Fentolin's clear voice, very low yet very pene- 
 trating. 
 
 " The Mediterranean Fleet will be forty-seven 
 hours before it comes together," was the message he 
 heard. " The Channel Fleet will manoeuvre off 
 Sheerness, waiting for it. The North Sea Fleet is 
 seventeen units under nominal strength." 
 
 Gerald turned the handle of the door slowly and 
 entered. Mr. Fentolin was just replacing the re- 
 ceiver on its stand. He looked up at his nephew, 
 and his eyebrows came together. 
 
 " What do you mean by this ? " he demanded. 
 " Don't you know that I allow no one in here when 
 I am telephoning on the private wire? "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 203 
 
 Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned 
 up all his courage. 
 
 " It is because I have heard what you were say- 
 ing over the telephone that I am here," he declared. 
 " I want to know to whom you were sending that 
 message which you have intercepted outside."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat for a moment in his chair with 
 immovable face. Then he pointed to the door, which 
 Gerald had left open behind him. 
 
 " Close that door, Gerald." 
 
 The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he 
 had turned around again. 
 
 " Come and stand over here by the side of the ta- 
 ble," he directed. 
 
 Gerald came without hesitation. He stood before 
 his uncle with folded arms. There was something 
 else besides sullenness in his face this morning, some- 
 thing which Mr. Fentolin was quick to recognise. 
 
 " I do not quite understand the nature of your 
 question, Gerald," Mr. Fentolin began. " It is un- 
 like you. You do not seem yourself. Is there any- 
 thing in particular the matter? " 
 
 " Only this," Gerald answered firmly. " I don't 
 understand why this naval fellow should come here 
 and ask you to close up your wireless because secrets 
 have been leaking out, and a few moments afterwards 
 you should be picking up a message and telephoning 
 to London information which was surely meant to be 
 private. That's all. I've come to ask you about it." 
 
 " You heard the message, then ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " You listened at the keyhole? " 
 
 "I listened outside," Gerald assented doggedly.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 205 
 
 " I am glad I listened. Do you mind answering my 
 question ? " 
 
 " Do I mind ! " Mr. Fentolin repeated softly. 
 " Really, Gerald, your politeness, your consideration, 
 your good manners, astound me. I am positively de- 
 prived of the power of speech." 
 
 " I'll wait here till it comes to you again, then," 
 the boy declared bluntly. " I've waited on you hand 
 and foot, done dirty work for you, put up with your 
 ill-humours and your tyranny, and never grumbled. 
 But there is a limit! You've made a poor sort of 
 creature of me, but even the worm turns, you know. 
 When it comes to giving away secrets about the move- 
 ments of our navy at a time when we are almost at 
 war, I strike." 
 
 " Melodramatic, almost dramatic, but, alas ! so in- 
 accurate," Mr. Fentolin sighed. " Is this a fit of 
 the heroics, boy, or what has come over you? Have 
 you by any chance forgotten?" 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's voice seemed suddenly to have 
 grown in volume. His eyes dilated, he himself 
 seemed to have grown in size. Gerald stepped a 
 little back. He was trembling, but his expression 
 had not changed. 
 
 " No, I haven't forgotten. There's a great debt 
 we are doing our best to pay, but there's such a 
 thing as asking too much, there's such a thing as 
 drawing the cords to snapping point. I'm speak- 
 ing for Esther and mother as well as myself. We 
 have been your slaves ; in a way I suppose we are 
 willing to go on being your slaves. It's the burden 
 that Fate has placed around our necks, and we'll 
 go through with it. All I want to point out is that
 
 206 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 there are limits, and it seems to me that we are up 
 against them now." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded. He had the air of a man 
 who wishes to be reasonable. 
 
 " You are very young, my boy," he said, " very 
 young indeed. Perhaps that is my fault for not 
 having let you see more of the world. You have got 
 some very queer ideas into your head. A little too 
 much novel reading lately, eh? I might treat you 
 differently. I might laugh at you and send you 
 out of the room. I won't. I'll tell you what you 
 ask. I'll explain what you find so mysterious. The 
 person to whom I have been speaking is my stock- 
 broker." 
 
 " Your stockbroker ! " Gerald exclaimed. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded. 
 
 " Mr. Bayliss," he continued, " of the firm of Bay- 
 liss, Hundercombe & Dunn, Throgmorton Court. 
 Mr. Bayliss is a man of keen perceptions. He un- 
 derstands exactly the effect of certain classes of 
 news upon the market. The message which I have 
 just sent to him is practically common property. 
 It will be in the Daily Mail to-morrow morning. 
 The only thing is that I have sent it to him just a 
 few minutes sooner than any one else can get it. 
 There is a good deal of value in that, Gerald. I do 
 not mind telling you that I have made a large for- 
 tune through studying the political situation and 
 securing advance information upon matters of this 
 sort. That fortune some day will probably be yours. 
 It will be you who will benefit. Meanwhile, I am 
 enriching myself and doing no one any harm." 
 
 " But how do you know," Gerald persisted, " that
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 207 
 
 this message would ever have found its way to the 
 Press? It was simply a message from one battle- 
 ship to another. It was not intended to be picked 
 up on land. There is no other installation but 
 ours that could have picked it up. Besides, it was 
 in code. I know that you have the code, but the 
 others haven't." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin yawned slightly. 
 
 " Ingenious, my dear Gerald, but inaccurate. 
 You do not know that the message was in code, and 
 in any case it was liable to be picked up by any 
 steamer within the circle. You really do treat me, 
 my boy, rather as though I were a weird, mischief- 
 making person with a talent for intrigue and crime 
 of every sort. Look at your suspicions last night. 
 I believe that you and Mr. Hamel had quite made 
 up your minds that I meant evil things for Mr. John 
 P. Dunster. Well, I had my chance. You saw him 
 depart." 
 
 " What about his papers ? " 
 
 "I wiU admit," Mr. Fentolin replied, "that I 
 read his papers. They were of no great conse- 
 quence, however, and he has taken them away with 
 him. Mr. Dunster. as a matter of fact, turned 
 out to be rather a mare's-nest. Now, come, since 
 you are here, finish everything you have to say to 
 me. I am not angry. I am willing to listen quite 
 reasonably." 
 
 Gerald shook his head. 
 
 "Oh, I can't!" he declared bitterly. "You al- 
 ways get the best of it. I'll only ask you one more 
 question. Are you having the wireless hauled 
 down?"
 
 208 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. Fentolin pointed out of the window. Gerald 
 followed his finger. Three men were at work upon 
 the towering spars. 
 
 " You see," Mr. Fentolin continued tolerantly, 
 " that I am keeping my word to Lieutenant Godfrey. 
 You are suffering from a little too much imagina- 
 tion, I am afraid. It is really quite a good fault. 
 By-the-by, how do you get on with our friend Mr. 
 Hamel? " 
 
 " Very well," the boy replied. " I haven't seen 
 much of him." 
 
 " He and Esther are together a great deal, eh ? " 
 Mr. Fentolin asked quickly. 
 
 " They seem to be quite friendly." 
 
 " It isn't Mr. Hamel, by any chance, who has been 
 putting these ideas into your head?" 
 
 " No one has been putting any ideas into my head," 
 Gerald answered hotly. " It's simply what I've seen 
 and overheard. It's simply what I feel around, the 
 whole atmosphere of the place, the whole atmosphere 
 you seem to create around you with these brutes 
 Sarson and Meekins ; and those white-faced, smooth- 
 tongued Marconi men of yours, who can't talk de- 
 cent English ; and the post-office man, who can't look 
 you in the face ; and Miss Price, who looks as though 
 she were one of the creatures, too, of your torture 
 chamber. That's all." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin waited until he had finished. Then 
 he waved him away. 
 
 " Go and take a long walk, Gerald," he advised. 
 " Fresh air is what you need, fresh air and a little 
 vigorous exercise. Run along now and send Miss 
 Price to me."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 209 
 
 Gerald overtook Hamel upon the stairs. 
 
 " By this time," the latter remarked, " I suppose 
 that our friend Mr. Dunster is upon the sea." 
 
 Gerald nodded silently. They passed along the 
 corridor. The door of the room which Mr. Dun- 
 ster had occupied was ajar. As though by common 
 consent, they both stopped and looked in. The 
 windows were all wide open, the bed freshly made. 
 The nurse was busy collecting some medicine bottles 
 and fragments of lint. She looked at them in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Mr. Dunster has left, sir," she told them. 
 
 " We saw him go," Gerald replied. 
 
 "Rather a quick recovery, wasn't it, nurse?" 
 Hamel asked. 
 
 " It wasn't a recovery at all, sir," the woman de- 
 clared sharply. " He'd no right to have been taken 
 away. It's my opinion Doctor Sarson ought to be 
 ashamed of himself to have permitted it." 
 
 " They couldn't exactly make a prison of the 
 place, could they ? " Hamel pointed out. " The man, 
 after all, was only a guest." 
 
 " That's as it may be, sir," the nurse replied. 
 " All the same, those that won't obey their doctors 
 aren't fit to be allowed about alone. That's the way 
 I look at it." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin was passing along the corridor as 
 they issued from the room. She started a little as 
 she saw them. 
 
 " What have you two been doing in there ? " she 
 asked quickly. 
 
 " We were just passing," Hamel explained. 
 " We stopped for a moment to speak to the nurse."
 
 210 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Mr. Dunster has gone," she said. " You saw 
 him go, Gerald. You saw him, too, didn't you, Mr. 
 Hamel? " 
 
 " I certainly did," Hamel admitted. 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin pointed to the great north window 
 near which they were standing, through which the 
 clear sunlight streamed a little pitilessly upon her 
 worn face and mass of dyed hair. 
 
 " You ought neither of you to be indoors for a 
 minute on a morning like this," she declared. " Es- 
 ther is waiting for you in the car, I think, Mr. 
 Hamel." 
 
 Gerald passed on up the stairs to his room, but 
 Hamel lingered. A curious impulse of pity towards 
 his hostess stirred him. The morning sunlight 
 seemed to have suddenly revealed the tragedy of 
 her life. She stood there, a tired, worn woman, with 
 the burden heavy upon her shoulders. 
 
 " Why not come out with Miss Fentolin and me? " 
 he suggested. " We could lunch at the Golf Club, 
 out on the balcony. I wish you would. Can't you 
 manage it? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Thank you very much," she said. " Mr. Fen- 
 tolin does not like to be left." 
 
 Something in the finality of her words seemed to 
 him curiously eloquent of her state of mind. She 
 did not move on. She seemed, indeed, to have the 
 air of one anxious to say more. In that ruthless 
 light, the advantages of her elegant clothes and 
 graceful carriage were suddenly stripped away from 
 her. She was the abject wreck of a beautiful woman, 
 wizened, prematurely aged. Nothing remained but
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 211 
 
 the eyes, which seemed somehow to have their mes- 
 sage for him. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin is a little peculiar, you know," she 
 went on, her voice shaking slightly with the effort 
 she was making to keep it low. " He allows Esther 
 so little liberty, she sees so few young people of her 
 own age. I do not know why he allows you to be 
 with her so much. Be careful, Mr. Hamel." 
 
 Her voice seemed suddenly to vibrate with a curious 
 note of suppressed fear. Almost as she finished her 
 speech, she passed on. Her little gesture bade him 
 remain silent. As she went up the stairs, she be- 
 gan to hum scraps of a little French air.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Hamel sliced his ball at the ninth, and after wait- 
 ing for a few minutes patientty, Esther came to help 
 him look for it. He was standing down on the sands. 
 a little apart from the two caddies who were beat- 
 ing out various tufts of long grass. 
 
 " Where did it go? " she asked. 
 
 " I have no idea,'* he admitted. 
 
 "Why don't you help look for it? " 
 
 " Searching for balls," he insisted, " is a caddy's 
 occupation. Both the caddies are now busy. Let 
 us sit down here. These sand hummocks are de- 
 lightful. It is perfectly sheltered, and the sun is 
 in our faces. Golf is an overrated pastime. Let us 
 sit and watch that little streak of blue find its way 
 up between the white posts." 
 
 She hesitated for a moment. 
 
 " We shall lose our place." 
 
 " There is no one behind." 
 
 She sank on to the little knoll of sand to which 
 he had pointed, with a resigned sigh. 
 
 '' You really are a queer person," she declared. 
 '' You have been playing golf this morning as though 
 your very life depended upon it. You have scarcely . 
 missed a shot or spoken a word. And now, all of 
 a sudden, you want to sit on a sand hummock and 
 watch the tide."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 213 
 
 " I have been silent," he told her, " because I have 
 been thinking." 
 
 " That may be truthful," she remarked, " but you 
 wouldn't call it polite, would you ? " 
 
 " The subject of my thoughts is my excuse. I 
 have been thinking of you." 
 
 For a single moment her eyes seemed to have 
 caught something of that sympathetic light with 
 which he was regarding her. Then she looked away. 
 
 " Was it my mashie shots you were worrying 
 about? " she asked. 
 
 " It was not," he replied simply. " It was you 
 you yourself." 
 
 She laughed, not altogether naturally. 
 
 " How flattering ! " she murmured. " By-the-by, 
 you are rather a downright person, aren't you, Mr. 
 Hamel?" 
 
 " So much so," he admitted, " that I am going to 
 tell you one or two things now. I am going to be 
 very frank indeed." 
 
 She sat suddenly quite still. Her face was turned 
 from him, but for the first time since he had known 
 her there was a slight undertone of colour in her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " A week ago," he said, " I hadn't the faintest 
 idea of coming into Norfolk. I knew about this 
 little shanty of my father's, but I had forgotten all 
 about it. I came as the result of a conversation I 
 had with a friend who is in the Foreign Office." 
 
 She looked at him with startled eyes. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked quickly. " You 
 are Mr. Hamel, aren't you? " 
 
 " Certainly," he replied. " Not only am I Richard
 
 214 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Hamcl, mining engineer, but I really have all that 
 reading to do I have spoken about, and I really was 
 looking for a quiet spot to do it in. It is true that 
 I had this part of the world in my mind, but I do not 
 think that I should ever have really decided to come 
 here if it had not been for my friend in London. 
 He was very interested indeed directly I mentioned 
 St. David's Tower. Would you like to know what 
 he told me?" 
 
 " Yes ! Go on, please." 
 
 " He told me a little of the history of your uncle, 
 Mr. Fentolin, and what he did not tell me at the 
 time, he has since supplemented. I suppose," he 
 added, hesitatingly, " that you yourself " 
 
 " Please go on. Please speak as though I knew 
 nething." 
 
 " Well, then," Hamel continued, " he told me that 
 your uncle was at one time in the Foreign Office 
 himself. He seemed to have a most brilliant career 
 before him when suddenly there was a terrible scan- 
 dal. A political secret I don't know what it was 
 had leaked out. There were rumours that it had 
 been acquired for a large sum of money by a foreign 
 Power. Mr. Fentolin retired to Norfolk, pending 
 an investigation. It was just as that time that he 
 met with his terrible accident, and the matter was 
 dropped." 
 
 " Go on, please," she murmured. 
 
 " My friend went on to say that during the last 
 few years Mr. Fentolin has once again become an 
 object of some suspicion to the head of our Secret 
 Service Department. For a long time they have 
 known that he was employing agents abroad, and
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 215 
 
 that he was showing the liveliest interest in under- 
 ground politics. They believed that it was a mere 
 hobby, born of his useless condition, a taste min- 
 istered to, without doubt, by the occupation of his 
 earlier life. Once or twice lately they have had 
 reason to change their minds. You know, I dare 
 say, in what a terribly disturbed state European 
 affairs are just now. Well, my friend had an idea 
 that Mr. Fentolin was showing an extraordinary 
 amount of interest in a certain conference which we 
 understand is to take place at The Hague. He 
 begged me to come down, and to watch your uncle 
 while I was down here, and report to him anything 
 that seemed to me noteworthy. Since then I have 
 had a message from him concerning the American 
 whom you entertained Mr. John P. Dunster. It 
 appears that he was the bearer of very important 
 dispatches for the Continent." 
 
 " But he has gone," she said quickly. " Nothing 
 happened to him, after all. He went away without 
 a word of complaint. We all saw him." 
 
 "That is quite true," Hamel admitted. "Mr. 
 Dunster has certainly gone. It is rather a coin- 
 cidence, however, that he should have taken his de- 
 parture just as the enquiries concerning his where- 
 abouts had reached such a stage that it had become 
 quite impossible to keep him concealed any longer." 
 
 She turned a little in her place and looked at 
 him steadfastly. 
 
 " Mr. Hamel," she said, " tell me what of your 
 mission? You have had an opportunity of studying 
 my uncle. You have even lived under his roof. 
 Tell me what you think."
 
 216 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 His face was troubled. 
 
 " Miss Fentolin," he said, " I will tell you frankly 
 that up to now I have not succeeded in solving the 
 problem of your uncle's character. To me per- 
 sonally he has been most courteous. He lives ap- 
 parently a studious and an unselfish life. I have 
 heard him even spoken of as a philanthropist. And 
 yet you three you, your mother, and your brother, 
 who are nearest to him, who live in his house and 
 under his protection, have the air of passing your 
 days in mortal fear of him." 
 
 " Mr. Hamel," she exclaimed nervously, " you 
 don't believe that! He is always very kind." 
 
 " Apparently," Hamel observed drily. " And yet 
 you must remember that you, too, are afraid of him. 
 I need not remind you of our conversations, but 
 there the truth is. You praise his virtues and his 
 charities, you pity him, and yet you go about with 
 a load of fear, and forgive me of secret terror 
 in your heart, you and Gerald, too. As for your 
 mother " 
 
 " Don't ! " she interrupted suddenly. " Why do 
 you bring me here to talk like this? You cannot 
 alter things. Nothing can be altered." 
 
 " Can't it ! " he replied. " Well, I will tell you the 
 real reason of my having brought you here and of 
 my having made this confession. I brought you here 
 because I could not bear to go on living, if not under 
 your roof, at any rate in the neighbourhood, without 
 telling you the truth. Now you know it. I am here 
 to watch Mr. Fentolin. I am going on watching 
 him. You can put him on his guard, if you like; I 
 shan't complain. Or you can "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 217 
 
 He paused so long that she looked at him. He 
 moved a little closer to her, his fingers suddenly 
 gripped her hand. 
 
 " Or you can marry me and come away from it 
 all," he concluded quietly. " Forgive me, please 
 I mean it." 
 
 For a moment the startled light in her eyes was 
 followed by a delicious softness. Her lips were 
 parted, she leaned a little towards him. Then sud- 
 denly she seemed to remember. She rose with swift 
 alertness to her feet. 
 
 " I think," she said, " that we had better play 
 golf." 
 
 " But I have asked you to marry me," he pro- 
 tested, as he scrambled up. 
 
 " Your caddy has found your ball a long time 
 ago," she pointed out, walking swiftly on ahead. 
 
 He played his shot and caught her up. 
 
 " Miss Fentolin Esther," he pleaded eagerly, 
 "do you think that I am not in earnest? Because 
 I am. I mean it. Even if I have only known you 
 for a few days, it has been enough. I think that I 
 knew it was coming from the moment that you 
 stepped into my railway carriage." 
 
 " You knew that what was coming? " she asked, 
 raising her eyes suddenly. 
 
 " That I should care for you.' 5 * 
 
 " It's the first time you've told me so," she re- 
 minded him, with a queer little smile. " Oh, for- 
 give me, please ! I didn't mean to say that. I don't 
 want to have you tell me so. It's all too ridiculous 
 and impossible." 
 
 "Is it? And why?"
 
 2i8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I have only known you for three days." 
 
 " We can make up for that." 
 
 " But I don't care about you. I have never 
 thought of any one in that way. It is absurd," she 
 went on. 
 
 " You'll have to, sometime or other," he declared. 
 " I'll take you travelling with me, show you the world, 
 new worlds, unnamed rivers, untrodden mountains. 
 Or do you want to go and see where the little brown 
 people live among the mimosa and the cherry blos- 
 soms? I'll take you so far away that this place and 
 this life will seem like a dream." 
 
 Her breath caught a little. 
 
 " Don't, please," she begged. " You know very 
 well or rather you don't know, perhaps, but I 
 must tell you that I couldn't. I am here, tied and 
 bound, and I can't escape." 
 
 " Ah ! dear, don't believe it," he went on earnestly. 
 " There isn't any bond so strong that I won't break 
 it for you, no knot I won't untie, if you give me the 
 right." 
 
 They were climbing slowly on to the tee. He 
 stepped forward and pulled her up. Her hand was 
 cold. Her eyes were raised to his, very softly yet 
 almost pleadingly. 
 
 " Please don't say anything more," she begged. 
 " I can't quite bear it just now. You know, you 
 must remember there is my mother. Do you think 
 that I could leave her to struggle alone? " 
 
 His caddy, who had teed the ball, and who had re- 
 garded the proceedings with a moderately tolerant 
 air, felt called upon at last to interfere. 
 
 " We'd best get on," he remarked, pointing to two
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 219 
 
 figures in the distance, " or they'll say we've cut 
 in." 
 
 Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more 
 moderate scale she followed his example. They de- 
 scended the steps together. 
 
 " Love-making isn't going to spoil our golf," he 
 whispered, smiling, as he touched her fingers once 
 more. 
 
 She looked at him almost shyly. 
 
 " Is this love-making? " she asked. 
 
 They walked together from the eighteenth green 
 towards the club-house. A curious silence seemed 
 suddenly to have enveloped them. Hamel was con- 
 scious of a strange exhilaration, a queer upheaval 
 of ideas, an excitement which nothing in his previous 
 life had yet been able to yield him. The wonder of 
 it amazed him, kept him silent. It was not until 
 they reached the steps, indeed, that he spoke. 
 
 " On our way home " he began. 
 
 She seemed suddenly to have stiffened. He looked 
 at her, surprised. She was standing quite still, her 
 hand gripping the post, her eyes fixed upon the wait- 
 ing motor-car. The delicate softness had gone from 
 her face. Once more that look of partly veiled suf- 
 fering was there, suffering mingled with fear. 
 
 " Look ! " she whispered, under her breath. 
 " Look ! It is Mr. Fentolin ! He has come for us 
 himself; he is there in the car." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back 
 among the cushions of the great Daimler, raised his 
 hat and waved it to them. 
 
 " Come along, children," he cried. " You see, I 
 am here to fetch you myself. The sunshine has
 
 220 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 tempted me. What a heavenly morning! Come 
 and sit by my side, Esther, and fight your battle all 
 over again. That is one of the joys of golf, isn't 
 it ? " he asked, turning to Hamel. " You need not 
 be afraid of boring me. To-day is one of my bright 
 days. I suppose that it is the sunshine and the warm 
 wind. On the way here we passed some fields. I 
 could swear that I smelt violets. Where are you go- 
 ing, Esther? " 
 
 " To take my clubs to my locker and pay my 
 caddy," she replied. 
 
 " Mr. Hamel will do that for you," Mr. Fentolin 
 declared. " Come and take your seat by my side, 
 and let us wait for him. I am tired of being alone." 
 
 She gave up her clubs reluctantly. All the life 
 seemed to have gone from her face. 
 
 "Why didn't mother come with you?" she asked 
 simply. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, dear Esther," he an- 
 swered, " when I started, I had a fancy to be alone. 
 I think in fact I am sure that your mother 
 wanted to come. The sunshine, too, was tempting 
 her. Perhaps it was selfish of me not to bring her, 
 but then, there is a great deal to be forgiven me* 
 isn't there, Esther? " 
 
 '* A great deal," she echoed, looking steadily ahead 
 of her. 
 
 " I came," he went on, " because it occurred to me 
 that, after all, I had my duties as your guardian, 
 dear Esther. I am not sure that we can permit 
 flirtations, you know. Let me see, how old are 
 you?" 
 
 " Twenty-one," she replied.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 221 
 
 " In a magazine I was reading the other day," he 
 continued, " I was interested to observe that the 
 modern idea as regards marriage is a changed one. 
 A woman, they say, should not marry until she 
 is twenty-seven or twenty-eight a very excellent 
 idea. I think we agree, do we not, on that, Esther? " 
 
 " I don't know," she replied. " I have never 
 thought about the matter." 
 
 " Then," he went on, " we will make up our minds 
 to agree. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight, let us say. 
 A very excellent age! A girl should know her own 
 mind by then. And meanwhile, dear Esther, would it 
 be wise, I wonder, to see a little less of our friend 
 Mr. Hamel? He leaves us to-day, I think. He is 
 very obstinate about that. If he were staying still 
 in the house, well, it might be different. But if he 
 persists in leaving us, you will not forget, dear, 
 that association with a guest is one thing; associa- 
 tion with a young man living out of the house is an- 
 other. A great deal less of Mr. Hamel I think that 
 we must see." 
 
 She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming 
 now towards them. 
 
 " Really a very personable young man," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin remarked, studying him through his eyeglass. 
 " Is it my fancy, I wonder, as, an observant person, 
 or is he just a little just a little taken with you, 
 Esther? A pity if it is so a great pity." 
 
 She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon 
 the rug was trembling a little. 
 
 " If you have an opportunity," Mr. Fentolin sug- 
 gested, dropping his voice, " you might very del- 
 icately, you know girls are so clever at that sort
 
 222 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 of thing convey my views to Mr. Hamel as re^ 
 gards his leaving us and its effect upon your com- 
 panionship. You understand me, I am sure? " 
 
 For the first time she turned her head towards 
 him. 
 
 " I understand," she said, " that you have some 
 particular reason for not wishing Mr. Hamel to leave 
 St. David's Hall." 
 
 He smiled benignly. 
 
 " You do my hospitable impulses full justice, dear 
 Esther," he declared. " Sometimes I think that you 
 understand me almost as well as your dear mother. 
 If, by any chance, Mr. Hamel should change his 
 mind as to taking up his residence at the Tower, I 
 think you would not find me in any sense of the word 
 an obdurate or exacting guardian. Come along, 
 Mr. Hamel. That seat opposite to us is quite com- 
 fortable. You see, I resign myself to the inevitable. 
 I have come to fetch golfers home to luncheon, and 
 I compose myself to listen. Which of you will be- 
 gin the epic of missed putts and brassey shots which 
 failed by a foot to carry? "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Hamel sat alone upon the terrace, his afternoon 
 coffee on a small table in front of him. His eyes 
 were fixed upon a black speck at the end of the 
 level roadway which led to the Tower. Only a few 
 minutes before, Mr. Fentolin, in his little carriage, 
 had shot out from the passage beneath the terrace, 
 on his way to the Tower. Behind him came Meekins, 
 bending over his bicycle. Hamel watched them both 
 with thoughtful eyes. There were several little in- 
 cidents in connection with their expedition which he 
 scarcely understood. 
 
 Then there came at last the sound for which he had 
 been listening, the rustle of a skirt along the ter- 
 raced way. Hamel turned quickly around, half 
 rising to his feet, and concealing his disappointment 
 with difficulty. It was Mrs. Seymour Fentolin who 
 stood there, a little dog under each arm; a large 
 hat, gay with flowers, upon her head. She wore 
 patent shoes with high heels, and white silk stock- 
 ings. She had, indeed, the air of being dressed 
 for luncheon at a fashionable restaurant. As she 
 stooped to set the dogs down, a strong waft of per- 
 fume was shaken from her clothes. 
 
 " Are you entirely deserted, Mr. Hamel? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I am," he replied. " Miss Esther went, I think, 
 to look for you. My host," he added, pointing to
 
 22 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 the black speck in the distance, " begged me to defel 
 ray occupation of the Tower for an hour or so, 
 and has gone down there to collect some of his 
 trifles." 
 
 Her eyes followed his outstretched hand. She 
 seemed to him to shiver for a moment. 
 
 " You really mean, then, that you are going to 
 leave us ? " she asked, accepting the chair which he 
 had drawn up close to his. 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " Well, I scarcely came on a visit to St. David's 
 Hall, did I? " he reminded her. " It has been de- 
 lightfully hospitable of Mr. Fentolin to have in- 
 sisted upon my staying on here for these few days, 
 but I could not possibly inflict myself upon you all 
 for an unlimited period." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin sat quite still for a time. In ab- 
 solute repose, if one could forget her mass of un- 
 naturally golden hair, the forced and constant smile, 
 the too liberal use of rouge and powder, the nervous 
 motions of her head, it was easily to be realised that 
 there were still neglected attractions about her face 
 and figure. Only, in these moments of repose, an 
 intense and ageing weariness seemed to have crept 
 into her eyes and face. It was as though she had 
 dropped the mask of incessant gaiety and permitted 
 a glimpse of her real self to steal to the surface. 
 
 " Mr. Hamel," she said quietly, " I dare say that 
 even during these few days you have realised that Mr. 
 Fentolin is a very peculiar man." 
 
 " I have certainly observed eccentricities," 
 Hamel assented. 
 
 " My life, and the lives of my two children," she
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 225 
 
 went on, " is devoted to the task of ministering to 
 his happiness." 
 
 " Isn't that rather a heavy sacrifice ? " he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Seymour Fentolin looked down the long, nar- 
 row way along which Mr. Fentolin had passed. He 
 was out of sight now, inside the Tower. Somehow 
 or other, the thought seemed to give her courage and 
 dignity. She spoke differently, without nervousness 
 or hurry. 
 
 " To you, Mr. Hamel," she said, " it may seem so. 
 We who make it know of its necessity." 
 
 He bowed his head. It was not a subject for him 
 to discuss with her. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin has whims," she went on, " violent 
 whims. We all try to humour him. He has his own 
 ideas about Gerald's bringing up. I do not agree 
 with them, but we submit. Esther, too, suffers, per- 
 haps to a less extent. As for me," her voice 
 broke a little " Mr. Fentolin likes people around 
 him who are always cheerful. He prefers even a 
 certain style of dress. I, too, have to do my little 
 share." 
 
 Hamel's face grew darker. 
 
 " Has it ever occurred to you," he demanded, 
 " that Mr. Fentolin is a tyrant? " 
 
 She closed her eyes for a moment. 
 
 " There are reasons," she declared, " why I can- 
 not discuss that with you. He has these strong 
 fancies, and it is our task in life to humour them. 
 He has one now with regard to the Tower, with re^ 
 gard to you. You are, of course, your own master. 
 You can do as you choose, and you will do as you 
 choose. Neither I nor my children have any claim
 
 226 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 upon your consideration. But, Mr. Hamel, you 
 have been so kind that I feel moved to tell you this. 
 It would make it very much easier for all of us if 
 you would give up this scheme of yours, if you would 
 stay on here instead of going to reside at the Tower." 
 
 Hamel threw away his cigarette. He was deeply 
 interested. 
 
 " Mrs. Fentolin," he said, " I am glad to have 
 you speak so plainly. Let me answer you in th. 
 same spirit. I am leaving this house mainly because 
 I have conceived certain suspicions with regard to 
 Mr. Fentolin. I do not like him, I do not trust him, 
 I do not believe in him. Therefore, I mean to re- 
 move myself from the burden of his hospitality. 
 There are reasons," he went on, " why I do not wish 
 to leave the neighbourhood altogether. There are 
 certain investigations which I wish to make. That 
 is why I have decided to go to the Tower." 
 
 " Miles was right, then ! " she cried suddenly 
 " You are here to spy upon him ! " 
 
 He turned towards her swiftly. 
 
 " To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin ? For what 
 reason? Why? Is he a criminal, then? " 
 
 She opened her lips and closed them again. There 
 was a slight frown upon her forehead. It was ob- 
 vious that the word had unintentionally escaped her. 
 
 " I only know what it is that he called you, what 
 he suspects you of being," she explained. " Mr. 
 Fentolin is very clever, and he is generally at work 
 upon something. We do not enquire into the pur- 
 pose of his labours. The only thing I know is that 
 he suspects you of wanting to steal one of his se- 
 crets."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 227 
 
 " Secrets? But what secrets has he? " Hamel de- 
 manded. " Is he an inventor? " 
 
 " You ask me idle questions," she sighed. " We 
 have gone, perhaps, a little further than I intended. 
 I came to plead with you for all our sakes, if I 
 could, to make things more comfortable by remain- 
 ing here instead of insisting upon your claim to 
 the Tower." 
 
 " Mrs. Fentolin," Hamel said firmly. " I like to 
 do what I can to please and benefit my friends, es- 
 pecially those who have been kind to me. I will be 
 quite frank with you. There is nothing you could 
 ask me which I would not do for your daughter's sake 
 if I were convinced that it was for her good." 
 
 Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling 
 a little. Her hands were crossed upon her bosom. 
 
 " You have known her for so short a time," she 
 murmured. 
 
 Hamel smiled confidently. 
 
 " I will not weary you," he said, " with the usual 
 trite remarks. I will simply tell you that the time 
 has been long enough. I love your daughter." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin sat quite still. Only in her eyes, 
 fixed steadily seawards, there was the light of some- 
 thing new, as though some new thought was stirring 
 in her brain. Her lips moved, although the sound 
 which came was almost inaudible. 
 
 " Why not ? " she murmured, as though arguing 
 with some unseen critic of her thoughts. " Why 
 not? " 
 
 " I am not a rich man," Hamel went on, " but I 
 am fairly well off. I could afford to be married at 
 once, and I should like "
 
 228 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his 
 wrist. 
 
 " Listen," she interrupted, " you are a traveller, 
 are you not? You have been to distant countries, 
 where white people go seldom ; inaccessible countries, 
 where even the arm of the law seldom reaches. 
 Couldn't you take her away there, take her right 
 away, travel so fast that nothing could catch you, 
 and hide hide for a little time ? " 
 
 Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, 
 blankly. Her attitude was so unexpected, her ques- 
 tioning so fierce. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Fentolin," he began 
 
 She suddenly relaxed her grip of his arm. Some- 
 thing of the old hopelessness was settling down upon 
 her face. Her hands fell into her lap. 
 
 " No," she interrupted, " I forgot ! I mustn't 
 talk like that. She, too, is part of the sacrifice." 
 
 " Part of the sacrifice," Hamel repeated, frown- 
 ing. " Is she, indeed ! I don't know what sacrifice 
 you mean, but Esther is the girl whom sooner or 
 later, somehow or other, I am going to make my 
 wife, and when she is my wife, I shall see to it that 
 she isn't afraid of Miles Fentolin or of any other man 
 breathing." 
 
 A gleam of hopefulness shone through the stony 
 misery of the woman's face. 
 
 " Does Esther care? " she asked softly. 
 
 "How can I tell? I can only hope so. If she 
 doesn't yet, she shall some day. I suppose," he 
 added, with a sigh, " it is rather too soon yet to 
 expect that she should. If it is necessary, I can 
 wait."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 229 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin's eyes were once more fixed upon 
 the Tower. The sun had caught the top of the tele- 
 phone wire and played around it till it seemed like 
 a long, thin shaft of silver. 
 
 " If you go down there," she said, " Esther will 
 not be allowed to see you at all. Mr. Fentolin has 
 decided to take it as a personal affront. You will 
 be ostracised from here." 
 
 " Shall I? " he answered. " Well, it won't be for 
 long, at any rate. And as to not seeing Esther, you 
 must remember that I come from outside this little 
 domain, and I see nothing more in Mr. Fentolin than 
 a bad-tempered, mischievous, tyrannical old invalid, 
 who is fortunately prevented by his infirmities from 
 doing as much mischief as he might. I am not afraid 
 of your brother-in-law, or of the bully he takes about 
 with him, and I am going to see your daughter some- 
 how or other, and I am going to marry her before 
 very long." 
 
 She thrust out her hand suddenly and grasped his. 
 The fingers were very thin, almost bony, and covered 
 with rings. Their grip was feverish and he felt them 
 tremble. 
 
 " You are a brave man, Mr. Hamel," she declared, 
 speaking in a low, quick undertone. " Perhaps you 
 are right. The shadow isn't .over your head. You 
 haven't lived in the terror of it. You may find a 
 way. God grant it ! " 
 
 She wrung his fingers and rose to her feet. Her 
 voice suddenly changed into another key. Hamel 
 knew instinctively that she wished him to understand 
 that their conversation was over. 
 
 " Chow-Chow," she cried, " come along, dear, we
 
 230 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 must have our walk. Come along, Koto ; come along, 
 little dogs." 
 
 Hamel strolled down the terrace steps and wan- 
 dered for a time in the gardens behind the house. 
 Here, in the shelter of the great building, he found 
 himself suddenly in an atmosphere of springtime. 
 There were beds of crocuses and hyacinths, fragrant 
 clumps of violets, borders of snowdrops, masses of 
 primroses and early anemones. He slowly climbed 
 one or two steep paths until he reached a sort of 
 plateau, level with the top of the house. The flowers 
 here grew more sparsely, the track of the salt wind 
 lay like a withering hand across the flower-beds. 
 The garden below was like a little oasis of colour and 
 perfume. Arrived at the bordering red brick wall, 
 he turned around and looked along the narrow road 
 which led to the sea. There was no sign of Mr. Fen- 
 tolin's return. Then to his left he saw a gate open 
 and heard the clamour of dogs. Esther appeared, 
 walking swiftly towards the little stretch of road 
 which led to the village. He hurried after her. 
 
 " Unsociable person ! " he exclaimed, as he caught 
 her up. " Didn't you know that I was longing for 
 a walk? " 
 
 " How should I read your thoughts ? " she an- 
 swered. " Besides, a few minutes ago I saw you 
 on the terrace, talking to mother. I am only going 
 as far as the village." 
 
 "May I come?" he asked. "I have business 
 there myself." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 ' There are nine cottages, three farmhouses, and a 
 general shop in St. David's," she remarked. " Also
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 231 
 
 about fifteen fishermen's cottages dotted about the 
 marsh. Your business, I presume, is with the gen- 
 eral shop ? " 
 
 He shook his head, falling into step with her. 
 
 " What I want," he explained, " is to find a woman 
 to come in and look after me at the Tower. Your 
 servant who valets me has given me two names." 
 
 Something of the lightness faded from her face. 
 
 " So you have quite made up your mind to leave 
 us ? " she asked slowly. " Mother wasn't able to 
 persuade you to stay? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " She was very kind," he said, " but there are 
 really grave reasons why I feel that I must not ac- 
 cept Mr. Fentolin's hospitality any longer. I had," 
 he went on, " a very interesting talk with your 
 mother." 
 
 She turned quickly towards him. The slightest 
 possible tinge of additional colour was in her cheeks. 
 She was walking on the top of a green bank, with 
 the wind blowing her skirts around her. The turn 
 of her head was a little diffident, almost shy. Her 
 eyes were asking him questions. At that moment 
 she seemed to him, with her slim body, her gently 
 parted lips and soft, tremulous eyes, almost like a 
 child. He drew a little nearer to her. 
 
 " I told your mother," he continued, " all that I 
 have told you, and more. I told her, dear, that I 
 cared for you, that I wanted you to be my wife." 
 
 She was caught in a little gust of wind. Both her 
 hands went up to her hat; her face was hidden. 
 She stepped down from the bank. 
 
 " You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly.
 
 232 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Why not? " he demanded. " It was the truth." 
 
 He stooped forward, intent upon looking into her 
 face. The mystic softness was still in her eyes, but 
 her general expression was inscrutable. It seemed 
 to him that there was fear there. 
 
 " What did mother say? " she whispered. 
 
 " Nothing discouraging," he replied. " I don't 
 think she minded at all. I have decided, if you give 
 me permission, to go and talk to Mr. Fentolin this 
 evening." 
 
 She shook her head very emphatically. 
 
 "Don't!" she implored. "Don't! Don't give 
 him another whip to lash us with. Keep silent. 
 Let me just have the memory for a few days all to 
 myself." 
 
 Her words came to him like numb things. There 
 was little expression in them, and yet he felt that 
 somehow they meant so much. 
 
 " Esther dear," he said, " I shall do just as you 
 ask me. At the same time, please listen. I think 
 that you are all absurdly frightened of Mr. Fen- 
 tolin. Living here alone with him, you have all 
 grown under his dominance to an unreasonable ex- 
 tent. Because of his horrible infirmity, you have 
 let yourselves become his slaves. There are limits 
 to this sort of thing, Esther. I come here as a 
 stranger, and I see nothing more in Mr. Fentolin 
 than a very selfish, irritable, domineering, and ca- 
 pricious old man. Humour him, by all means. I am 
 willing to do the same myself. But when it comes 
 to the great things in life, neither he nor any living 
 person is going to keep from me the woman I love." 
 
 She walked by his side in silence. Her breath was
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 233 
 
 coming a little quicker, her fingers lay passive in his. 
 Then for a moment he felt the grip of them almost 
 burn into his flesh. Still she said nothing. 
 
 " I want your permission, dear," he went on, " to 
 go to him. I suppose he calls himself your guardian. 
 If he says no, you are of age. I just want you to 
 believe that I am strong enough to put my arms 
 around you and to carry you away to my own world 
 and keep you there, although an army of Mr. Fen- 
 tolin's creatures followed us." 
 
 She turned, and he saw the great transformation. 
 Her face was brilliant, her eyes shone with wonder- 
 ful things. 
 
 " Please," she begged, " will you say or do nothing 
 at all for a little time, until I tell you . when ? I 
 want just a few days' peace. You have said such 
 beautiful things to me that I want them to lie there 
 in my thoughts, in my heart, undisturbed, for just a 
 little time. You see, we are at the village now. I 
 am going to call at this third cottage. While I am 
 inside, you can go and make what enquiries you like. 
 Come and knock at the door for me when you are 
 ready." 
 
 " And we will walk back together? " 
 
 " We will walk back together," she promised him. 
 " I will take you home another way. I will take 
 you over what they call the Common, and come down 
 behind the Hall into the gardens." 
 
 She dismissed him with a little smile. He strolled 
 along the village street and plunged into the mys- 
 terious recesses of the one tiny shop.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o'clock the 
 following afternoon, in the lounge of the Royal Ho- 
 tel at Norwich. 
 
 " You got my wire, then ? " the latter asked, as he 
 held out his hand. " I had it sent by special mes- 
 senger from Wells." 
 
 " It arrived directly after breakfast," Hamel re- 
 plied. " It wasn't the easiest matter to get here, 
 even then, for there are only about two trains a 
 day, and I didn't want to borrow a car from Mr. 
 Fentolin." 
 
 " Quite right," Kinsley agreed. " I wanted you 
 to come absolutely on your own. Let's get into the 
 coffee-room and have some lunch now. I want to 
 catch the afternoon train back to town." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you've come all the 
 way down here to talk to me for half an hour or so ? " 
 Hamel demanded, as they took their places at a 
 table. 
 
 " All the way from town," Kinsley assented, " and 
 up to the eyes in work we are, too. Dick, what do 
 you think of Miles Fentolin ? " 
 
 " Hanged if I know ! " Hamel answered, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " Nothing definite to tell .us, then? " 
 
 "Nothing!" 
 
 What about Mr. John P. Dunster? "
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 235 
 
 " He left yesterday morning," Hamel said. " I 
 saw him go. He looked very shaky. I understood 
 that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth." 
 
 " Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an en- 
 quiry on foot about this man's disappearance? " 
 Kinsley asked. 
 
 " Certainly. I heard Lord Saxthorpe tell him 
 that the police had received orders to scour the 
 country for him, and that they were coming to St. 
 David's Hall." 
 
 Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and elo- 
 quently profane. 
 
 " That's why Mr. Fentolin let him go, then. If 
 Saxthorpe had only held his tongue, or if those in- 
 fernal police hadn't got chattering with the magis- 
 trates, we might have made a coup. As it is, the 
 game's up. Mr. Dunster left for Yarmouth, you 
 say, yesterday morning? " 
 
 " I saw him go myself. He looked very shaky 
 and ill, but he was able to smoke a big cigar and 
 walk down-stairs leaning on the doctor's arm." 
 
 "I don't doubt," Kinsley remarked, "but that 
 you saw what you say you saw. At the same time, 
 you may be surprised to hear that Mr. Dunster has 
 disappeared again." 
 
 " Disappeared again ? " Hamel muttered. 
 
 " It looks very much," Kinsley continued, " as 
 though your friend Miles Fentolin has been playing 
 with him like a cat with a mouse. He has been 
 obliged to turn him out of one hiding-place, and he 
 has simply transferred him to another." 
 
 Hamel looked doubtful. 
 
 " Mr. Dunster left quite alone in the car," he
 
 236 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 said. " He was on his guard, too, for Mr. Fen- 
 tolin and he had had words. I really can't see how 
 it was possible for him to have got into any more 
 trouble." 
 
 " Where is he, then? " Kinsley demanded. 
 " Come, I will let you a little further into our confi- 
 dence. We have reason to believe that he carries 
 with him a written message which is practically the 
 only chance we have of avoiding disaster during the 
 next few days. That written message is addressed 
 to the delegates at The Hague, who are now sitting. 
 Nothing had been heard of Dunster or the document 
 he carries. No word has come from him of any 
 sort since he left St. David's Hall." 
 
 " Have you tried to trace him from there ? " 
 Hamel asked. 
 
 "Trace him?" Kinsley repeated. "By heavens, 
 you don't seem to understand, Dick, the immense, 
 the extraordinary importance of this man to us ! 
 The cleverest detective in England spent yesterday 
 under your nose at St. David's Hall. There are a 
 dozen others working upon the job as hard as they 
 can. All the reports confirm what you say that 
 Dunster left St. David's Hall at half-past nine yes- 
 terday morning, and he certainly arrived in Yar- 
 mouth at a little before twelve. From there he seems, 
 however, to have completely disappeared. The car 
 went back to St. David's Hall empty; the man only 
 stayed long enough in Yarmouth, in fact, to have 
 his dinner. We cannot find a single smack owner 
 who was approached in any way for the hire of a 
 boat. Yarmouth has been ransacked in vain. He 
 certainly has not arrived at The Hague or we should
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 237 
 
 have heard news at once. As a last resource, I ran 
 down here to see you on the chance of your having 
 picked up any information." 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " You seem to know a good deal more than I do, 
 already," he said. 
 
 " What do you think of Mr. Fentolin ? You have 
 stayed in his house. You have had an opportunity 
 of studying him." 
 
 " So far as my impressions go," Hamel replied, 
 " everything which you have suggested might very 
 well be true. I think that either out of sheer love 
 of mischief, or from some subtler motive, he is 
 capable of anything. Every one in the place, except 
 one poor woman, seems to look upon him as a sort 
 of supernatural being. He gives money away to 
 worthless people with both hands. Yet I share your 
 opinion of him. I believe that he is a creature with- 
 out conscience or morals. I have sat at his table 
 and shivered when he has smiled." 
 
 " Are you staying at St. David's Hall now? " 
 
 " I left yesterday." 
 
 " Where are you now, then ? " 
 
 " I am at St. David's Tower the little place I 
 told you of that belonged to my father but I don't 
 know whether I shall be able to stop there. Mr. 
 Fentolin, for some reason or other, very much re- 
 sented my leaving the Hall and was very annoyed 
 at my insisting upon claiming the Tower. When 
 I went down to the village to get some one to come 
 up and look after me, there wasn't a woman there 
 who would come. It didn't matter what I offered, 
 they were all the same. They all muttered some
 
 238 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 excuse or other, and seemed only anxious to show 
 me out. At the village shop they seemed to hate 
 to serve me with anything. It was all I could do 
 to get a packet of tobacco yesterday afternoon. 
 You would really think that I was the most unpop- 
 ular person who ever lived, and it can only be be- 
 cause of Mr. Fentolin's influence." 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn't like to have you 
 in the locality," Kinsley remarked thoughtfully. 
 
 " He was all right so long as I was at St. David's 
 Hall," Hamel observed. 
 
 "What's this little place like St. David's 
 Tower, you call it ? " Kinsley asked. 
 
 " Just a little stone building actually on the 
 beach," Hamel explained. " There is a large shed 
 which Mr. Fentolin keeps locked up, and the hab- 
 itable portion consists just of a bedroom and sitting- 
 room. From what I can see, Mr. Fentolin has been 
 making a sort of hobby of the place. There is 
 telephonic communication with the house, and he 
 seems to have used the sitting-room as a sort of 
 studio. He paints sea pictures and really paints 
 them very well." 
 
 A man came into the coffee-room, made some en- 
 quiry of the waiter and went out again. Hamel 
 stared at him in a puzzled manner. For the mo- 
 ment he could only remember that the face was fa- 
 miliar. Then he suddenly gave vent to a little ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 . " Any one would think that I had been followed," 
 he remarked. " The man who has just looked into 
 the room is one of Mr. Fentolin's parasites or body- 
 guards, or whatever you call them."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 239 
 
 " You probably have," Kinsley agreed. " What 
 post does he hold in the household? " 
 
 " I have no idea," Hamel replied. " I saw him 
 the first day I arrived and not since. Sort of sec- 
 retary, I should think." 
 
 " He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway," Kinsley 
 muttered. " Look out, Dick. Here he comes back 
 again." 
 
 Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffi- 
 dently. 
 
 " I hope you will forgive the liberty, sir," he said 
 to Hamel. " You remember me, I trust Mr. 
 Ryan. I am the librarian at St. David's Hall." 
 
 Hamel nodded. 
 
 " I thought I'd seen you there." 
 
 " I was wondering," the man continued, " whether 
 you had a car of Mr. Fentolin's in Norwich to-day, 
 and if so, whether I might beg a seat back in case 
 you were returning before the five o'clock train? 
 I came in early this morning to go through some 
 manuscripts at a second-hand bookseller's here, and 
 I have unfortunately missed the train back." 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " I came in by train myself, or I would have given 
 you a lift back, with pleasure," he said. 
 
 Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the 
 room. Kinsley watched him from over the top of a 
 newspaper. 
 
 " So that is one of Mr. Fentolin's creatures, too," 
 he remarked. " Keeping his eye on you in Norwich, 
 eh? Tell me, Dick, by-the-by, how do you get on 
 with the rest of Mr. Fentolin's household, and ex- 
 actly of whom does it consist ? "
 
 240 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " There is his sister-in-law," Hamel replied, " Mrs. 
 Seymour Fentolin. She is a strange, tired-looking 
 woman who seems to stand in mortal fear of Mr. 
 Fentolin. She is always overdressed and never nat- 
 ural, but it seems to me that nearly everything she 
 does is done to suit his whims, or at his instiga- 
 tion." 
 
 Kinsley nodded thoughtfully. 
 
 " I remember Seymour Fentolin," he said ; " a 
 really fine fellow he was. Well, who else? " 
 
 " Just the nephew and niece. The boy is half 
 sullen, half discontented, yet he, too, -seems to obey 
 his uncle blindly. The three of them seem to be 
 his slaves. It's a thing you can't live in the house 
 without noticing." 
 
 " It seems to be a cheerful sort of household," 
 Kinsley observed. " You read the papers, I sup- 
 pose, Dick? " he asked, after a moment's pause. 
 
 " On and off, the last few days. I seem to have 
 been busy doing all sorts of things." 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you something," Kinsley continued. 
 " The whole of our available fleet is engaged in 
 carrying out what they call a demonstration in the 
 North Sea. They have patrol boats out in every 
 direction, and only the short distance wireless sig- 
 nals are being used. Everything, of course, is in 
 code, yet we know this for a fact: a good deal of 
 private information passing between the Admiral 
 and his commanders was known in Germany three 
 hours after the signals themselves had been given. 
 It is suspected more than suspected, in fact 
 that these messages were picked up by Mr. Fen- 
 tolin's wireless installation."
 
 241 
 
 " I don't suppose he could help receiving them," 
 Hamel remarked. 
 
 " He could help decoding them and sending them 
 through to Germany, though," Kinsley retorted 
 grimly. " The worst of it is, he has a private tele- 
 phone wire in his house to London. If he isn't up 
 to mischief, what does he need all these things for 
 private telegraph line, private telephone, private 
 wireless? We have given the postmaster a hint to 
 have the telegraph office moved down into the vil- 
 lage, but I don't know that that will help us much." 
 
 " So far as regards the wireless," Hamel said, " I 
 rather believe that it is temporarily dismantled. We 
 had a sailor-man over, the morning before yesterday, 
 to complain of his messages having been picked up. 
 Mr. Fentolin promised at once to put his installa- 
 tion out of work for a time." 
 
 " He has done plenty of mischief with it already," 
 Kinsley groaned. " However, it was Dunster I came 
 down to make enquiries about. I couldn't help hop- 
 ing that you might have been able to put us on the 
 right track." 
 
 Hamel sighed. 
 
 " I know nothing beyond what I have told you." 
 
 " How did he look when he went away ? " 
 
 " Very ill indeed," Hamel declared. " I after- 
 wards saw the nurse who had been attending him, 
 and she admitted that he was not fit to travel. I 
 should say the probabilities are that he is laid up' 
 again somewhere." 
 
 "Did you actually speak to him?" . 
 
 " Just a word or two." 
 
 *' And you saw him go off in the car? "
 
 242 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished 
 him good-by." 
 
 Kinsley glanced at the clock and rose to his feet. 
 
 " Walk down to the station with me," he sug- 
 gested. " I needn't tell you, I am sure," he went 
 on, as they left the hotel a few minutes later, " that 
 if anything does turn up, or if you get the glim- 
 mering of an idea, you'll let me know? We've a small 
 army looking for the fellow, but it does seem as 
 though he had disappeared off the face of the earth. 
 If he doesn't turn up before the end of the Conference, 
 we are done." 
 
 " Tell me," Hamel asked, after they had walked 
 for some distance in silence, " exactly why is our 
 fleet demonstrating to such an extent? " 
 
 " That Conference I have spoken of," Kinsley re- 
 plied, " which is being held at The Hague, is being 
 held, we know, purposely to discuss certain matters 
 in which we are interested. It is meeting for their 
 discussion without any invitation having been sent 
 to this country. There is only one reply possible 
 to such a course. It is there in the North Sea. 
 But unfortunately " 
 
 Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had 
 alike become gloomier. 
 
 " Go on," Hamel begged. 
 
 " Our reply, after all, is a miserable affair," 
 Kinsley concluded. " You remember the outcry 
 over the withdrawal of our Mediterranean Fleet? 
 Now you see its sequel. We haven't a ship worth a 
 snap of the fingers from Gibraltar to Suez. If 
 France deserts us, it's good-by to Malta, good-by to 
 , good-by to India. It's the disruption of the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 243 
 
 British Empire. And all this," he wound up, as he 
 paused before taking his seat in the railway carriage, 
 " all this might even now be avoided if only we could 
 lay our hands upon the message which that man Dun- 
 ster was bringing from New York ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Once more Hamel descended from the little train, 
 and, turning away from St. David's Hall, made his 
 way across the marshes, seawards. The sunshine 
 of the last few days had departed. The twilight 
 was made gloomy by a floating veil of white mist, 
 which hung about in wet patches. Hamel turned 
 up his coat collar as he walked and shivered a little. 
 The thought of his solitary night and uncomfortable 
 surroundings, after all the luxury of St. David's 
 Hall, was scarcely inspiring. Yet, on the whole, he 
 was splendidly cheerful. The glamour of a host of 
 new sensations was upon him. There was a new love 
 of living in his heart. He forgot the cold east wind 
 which blew in his face, bringing with it little puffs 
 of damp grey mist. He forgot the cheerlessness 
 which he was about to face, the lonely night before 
 him. For the first time in his life a woman reigned 
 in his thoughts. 
 
 It was not until he actually reached the very side 
 of the Tower that he came back to earth. As he 
 opened the door, he found a surprise in store for him. 
 A fire was burning in the sitting-room, smoke was as- 
 cending from the kitchen chimney. The little round 
 table was laid with a white cloth. There was a faint 
 odour of cooking from the back premises. His lamp 
 was lit, there were logs hissing and crackling upon 
 the fire. As he stood there looking wonderingly
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 245 
 
 about him, the door from the back was opened. 
 Hannah Cox came quietly into the room. 
 
 " What time would you like your dinner, sir? " 
 she enquired. 
 
 Hamel stared at her. 
 
 " Why, are you going to keep house for me, Mrs. 
 Cox ? " he asked. 
 
 " If you please, sir. I heard that you had been 
 in the village, looking for some one. I am sorry 
 that I was away. There is no one else who would 
 come to you." 
 
 " So I discovered," he remarked, a little grimly. 
 
 " No one else," she went on, " would come to you 
 because of Mr. Fentolin. He does not wish to have 
 you here. They love him so much in the village that 
 ie had only to breathe the word. It was enough." 
 
 " Yet you are here," he reminded her. 
 
 " I do not count," she answered. " I am outside 
 all these things." 
 
 Hamel gave a little sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 " Well, I am glad you could come, anyhow. If 
 you have something for dinner, I should like it in 
 about half an hour." 
 
 He climbed the narrow stairs which led to his 
 bedroom. To his surprise, there were many things 
 there for his comfort which he had forgotten to 
 order clean bed-linen, towels, even a curtain upon 
 the window. 
 
 " Where did you get all the linen up-stairs from, 
 Mrs. Cox ? " he asked her, when he descended. " The 
 room was almost empty yesterday, and I forgot 
 nearly all the things I meant to bring home from 
 Norwich."
 
 246 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Mrs. Seymour Fentolin sent down a hamper foi 
 you," the woman replied, " with a message from Mr. 
 Fentolin. He said that nothing among the odd- 
 ments left by your father had been preserved, but 
 that you were welcome to anything you desired, if 
 you would let them know at the Hall." 
 
 " It is very kind of both of them," Hamel said 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 The woman stood still for a moment, looking at 
 him. Then she drew a step nearer. 
 
 " Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the 
 shed? " she asked, very quietly. 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 " We don't need the place, do we ? " 
 "He did not give you the key?" she persisted. 
 " Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in 
 there which he wished to keep locked up," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 She remained thoughtful for several moments. 
 Then she turned away. 
 
 " No," she said, " it was not likely he would 
 not give you that key ! " 
 
 Hamel dined simply but comfortably. Mrs. Cox 
 cleared away the things, brought him his coffee, 
 and appeared a few minutes later, her shawl wrapped 
 around her, ready for departure. 
 
 " I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, 
 sir," she announced. 
 
 Hamel was a little startled. He withdrew the pipe 
 from his mouth and looked at her. 
 
 " Why, of course," he remarked. " I'd forgot- 
 ten. There is no place for you to stay here." 
 " I shall go back to my brother's," she said.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 247 
 
 Hamel put some money upon the table. 
 
 " Please get anything that is necessary," he di- 
 rected. " I shall leave you to do the housekeeping 
 for a few days." 
 
 " Shall you be staying here long, sir? " she asked. 
 
 " I am not sure," he replied. 
 
 " I do not suppose," she said, " that you will stay 
 for very long. I shall get only the things that you 
 require from day to day. Good night, sir." 
 
 She left the room. Hamel looked after her for 
 a moment with a frown. In some indescribable way, 
 the woman half impressed, half irritated him. She 
 had always the air of keeping something in the back- 
 ground. He followed her out on to the little ridge 
 of beach, a few minutes after she had left. The mist 
 was still drifting about. Only a few yards away the 
 sea rolled in, filling the air with dull thunder. The 
 marshland was half obscured. St. David's Hall was 
 invisible, but like strangely-hung lanterns in an empty 
 space he saw the line of lights from the great house 
 gleam through the obscurity. There was no sound 
 save the sound of the sea. He shivered slightly. It 
 was like an empty land, this. 
 
 Then, moved by some instinct of curiosity, he made 
 his way round to the closed door of the boat-house, 
 only to find it, as he had expected, locked. He shook 
 it slightly, without result. Then he strolled round 
 to the back, entered his own little abode by the 
 kitchen, and tried the other door which led into the 
 boat-house. It was not only locked, but a staple 
 had been put in, and it was fastened with a padlock 
 of curious design which he did not remember to have 
 seen there before. Again, half unconsciously, he
 
 248 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 listened, and again he found the silence oppressive. 
 He went back to his room, brought out some of the 
 books which it had been his intention to study, and 
 sat and read over the fire. 
 
 At ten o'clock he went to bed. As he threw open 
 his window before undressing, it seemed to him that 
 he could catch the sound of voices from the sea. 
 He listened intently. A grey pall hung everywhere. 
 To the left, with strange indistinctness, almost like 
 something human struggling to assert itself, came 
 the fitful flash from the light at the entrance to the 
 tidal way. Once more he strained his ears. This 
 time there was no doubt about it. He heard the 
 sound of fishermen's voices. He heard one of them 
 say distinctly : 
 
 " Hard aport, Dave lad ! That's Fentolin's light. 
 Keep her out a bit. Steady, lad ! " 
 
 Through a rift in the mist, he caught a glimpse of 
 the brown sail of a fishing-boat, dangerously near 
 the land. He watched it alter its course slightly and 
 pass on. Then again there was silence. He un- 
 dressed slowly and went to bed. 
 
 Later on he woke with a start and sat up in bed, 
 listening intently, listening for he knew not what. 
 Except for the backward scream of the pebbles, 
 dragged down every few seconds by the receding 
 waves, an unbroken silence seemed to prevail. He 
 struck a match and looked at his watch. It was 
 exactly three o'clock. He got out of bed. He was 
 a man in perfect health, ignorant of the meaning of 
 nerves, a man of proved courage. Yet he was con- 
 scious that his pulses were beating with absurd ra- 
 pidity. A new feeling seemed to possess him. He
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 349 
 
 could almost have declared that he was afraid. 
 What sound had awakened him? He had no idea, 
 yet he seemed to have a distinct and absolute con- 
 viction that it had been a real sound and no dream. 
 He drew aside the curtains and looked out of the 
 window. The mist now seemed to have become al- 
 most a fog, to have closed in upon sea and land. 
 There was nothing whatever to be seen. As he stood 
 there for a moment, listening, his face became moist 
 with the drifting vapour. Suddenly upon the beach 
 he saw what at first he imagined must be an optical il- 
 lusion a long shaft of light, invisible in itself except 
 that it seemed to slightly change the density of the 
 mist. He threw on an overcoat over his pyjamas, 
 thrust on his slippers, and taking up his own electric 
 torch, hastily descended the stairs. He opened the 
 front door and stepped out on to the beach. He 
 stood in the very place where the light had seemed to 
 be, and looked inland. There was no sign of any hu- 
 man person, not a sound except the falling of the 
 sea upon the pebbly beach. He raised his voice 
 and called out. Somehow or other, speech seemed 
 to be a relief. 
 
 " Hullo ! " 
 
 There was no response. He tried again. 
 
 " Is any one there ? " 
 
 Still no answer. He watched the veiled light from 
 the harbour appear and disappear. It threw no 
 shadow of illumination upon the spot to which he 
 had gazed from his window. One window at St. 
 David's Hall was illuminated. The rest of the place 
 was wrapped now in darkness. He walked up to the 
 boat-house. The door was still locked. There was
 
 250 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 no sign that any one had been there. Reluctantly 
 at last he re-entered the Tower and made his way 
 up-stairs. 
 
 " Confound that fellow Kinsley ! " he muttered, as 
 he threw off his overcoat. " All his silly suggestions 
 and melodramatic ideas have given me a fit of nerves. 
 I am going to bed, and I am going to sleep. That 
 couldn't have been a light I saw at all. I couldn't 
 have heard anything. I am going to sleep."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Hamel awoke to find his room filled with sunshine 
 and a soft wind blowing in through the open window. 
 There was a pleasant odour of coffee floating up from 
 the kitchen. He looked at his watch it was 
 past eight o'clock. The sea was glittering and be- 
 spangled with sunlight. He found among his scanty 
 belongings a bathing suit, and, wrapped in his over- 
 coat, hurried down-stairs. 
 
 " Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox," he called 
 out. 
 
 She stood at the door, watching him as he stepped 
 across the pebbles and plunged in. For a few mo- 
 ments he swam. Then he turned over on his back. 
 The sunlight was gleaming from every window of St. 
 David's Hall. He even fancied that upon the ter- 
 race he could see a white-clad figure looking towards 
 him. He turned over and swam once more. From 
 her place in the doorway Mrs. Cox called out to 
 him. 
 
 " Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir ! " 
 
 He waved his hand. The splendid exhilaration of 
 the salt water seemed to give him unlimited courage. 
 He dived, but the woman's cry of fear soon recalled 
 him. Presently he swam to shore and hurried up the 
 beach. Mrs. Cox, with a sigh of relief, disappeared 
 into the kitchen. 
 
 " Those rocks on your nerves again, Mrs. Cox? "
 
 252 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 he asked, good-humouredly, as he took his place at 
 the breakfast table a quarter of an hour later. 
 
 " It's only us who live here, sir," she answered, 
 " who know how terrible they are. There's one 
 it comes up like my hand a long spike. A boat 
 once struck upon that, and it's as though it'd been 
 sawn through the middle." 
 
 " I must have a look at them some day," he de- 
 clared. " I am going to work this morning, Mrs. 
 Cox. Lunch at one o'clock." 
 
 He took rugs and established himself with a pile 
 of books at the back of a grassy knoll, sheltered from 
 the wind, with the sea almost at his feet. He sharp- 
 ened his pencil and numbered the page of his note- 
 book. Then he looked up towards the Hall garden 
 and found himself dreaming. The sunshine was de- 
 licious, and a gentle optimism seemed to steal over 
 him. 
 
 " I am a fool ! " he murmured to himself. " I am 
 catching some part of these people's folly. Mr. 
 Pentolin is only an ordinary, crotchety invalid 
 with queer tastes. On the big things he is prob- 
 ably like other men. I shall go to him this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 A sea-gull screamed over his head. Little, brown- 
 sailed fishing-boats came gliding down the harbour 
 way. A pleasant, sensuous joy fulness seemed part of 
 the spirit of the day. Hamel stretched himself out 
 upon the dry sand. 
 
 " Work be hanged ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a 
 voice which was becoming very familiar. 
 
 " A most admirable sentiment, my young friend.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 253 
 
 which you seem to be doing your best to live up to. 
 Not a line written, I see." 
 
 He sat up upon his rug. Mr. Fentolin, in his lit- 
 tle carriage, was there by his side. Behind was the 
 faithful Meekins, with an easel under his arm. 
 
 " I trust that your first night in your new abode 
 has been a pleasant one? " Mr. Fentolin asked. 
 
 " I slept quite well, thanks," Hamel replied. 
 " Glad to see you're going to paint." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily. 
 
 " It is, alas ! " he declared, " one of my weaknesses. 
 I can work only in solitude. I came down on the 
 chance that the fine weather might have tempted you 
 over to the Golf Club. As it is, I shall return." 
 
 " I am awfully sorry," Hamel said. " Can't I go 
 out of sight somewhere? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " I will not ask your pardon for my absurd hu- 
 mours," he continued, a little sadly. " Their exist- 
 ence, however, I cannot deny. I will wait." 
 
 " It seems a pity for you to do that," Hamel re- 
 marked. " You see, I might stay here for some 
 time." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's face darkened. He looked at the 
 young man with a sort of pensive wrath. 
 
 " If," the latter went on, " you say * yes ' to some- 
 thing I am going to ask you, I might even stay 
 in the neighbourhood for longer still." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his 
 eyes were fixed upon Hamel. 
 
 " What is it that you are going to ask me? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 " I want to marry your niece."
 
 254 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild 
 surprise. 
 
 "A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel? " 
 he murmured. 
 
 " Not at all," Hamel assured him. " I have been 
 ten years looking for her." 
 
 "And the young lady?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. 
 " What does she say? " 
 
 " I believe, sir," Hamel replied, " that she would 
 be willing." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin sighed. 
 
 " One is forced sometimes," he remarked regret- 
 fully, " to realise the selfishness of our young peo- 
 ple. For many years one devotes oneself to provid- 
 ing them with all the comforts and luxuries of life. 
 Then, in a single day, they turn around and give 
 everything they have to give to a stranger. So you 
 want to marry Esther? " 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 " She has a very moderate fortune." 
 
 " She need have none at all," Hamel replied ; " I 
 have enough." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house. 
 
 " Then," he said, " I think you had better go 
 and tell her so; in which case, I shall be able to 
 paint." 
 
 " I have your permission, then? " Hamel asked, 
 /ising to his feet eagerly. 
 
 " Negatively," Mr. Fentolin agreed, " you have. 
 t cannot refuse. Esther is of age ; the thing is rea- 
 sonable. I do not know whether she will be happy 
 with you or not. A young man of your disposition 
 who declines to study the whims of an unfortunate
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 255 
 
 creature like myself is scarcely likely to be possessed 
 of much sensibility. However, perhaps your views 
 as to a solitary residence here will change with your 
 engagement to my niece." 
 
 Hamel did not reply for a moment. He was try- 
 ing to ask himself why, even in the midst of this rush 
 of anticipatory happiness, he should be conscious of 
 a certain reluctance to leave the Tower and Mr. 
 Fentolin. He was looking longingly towards the 
 Hall. Mr. Fentolin waved him away. 
 
 " Go and make love," he ordered, " and leave me 
 alone. We are both in pursuit of beauty only 
 our methods differ." 
 
 Hamel hesitated no longer but walked up the nar- 
 now path with swift, buoyant footsteps. Every- 
 where he seemed to be surrounded by the glorious 
 spring sunshine. It glittered in the little pools and 
 creeks by his side. It drew a new colour from the 
 dun-coloured marshes, the masses of emerald seaweed, 
 the shimmering sands. It flashed in the long row of 
 windows of the Hall. As he drew nearer, he could 
 see the banks of yellow crocuses in the sloping gar- 
 dens behind. There were odours of spring in the air. 
 He ran lightly up the terrace steps. There was an 
 easy-chair drawn into her favourite corner, and a 
 book upon the table, but no sign of Esther. He hesi- 
 tated for a moment, and then, retracing his steps 
 along the terrace, entered the house by the front 
 door, which stood wide open. There was no one in 
 the hall, scarcely a sound about the place. A great 
 clock ticked solemnly from the foot of the stairs. 
 There was not even a servant in sight. Hamel wan- 
 dered around, at a loss what to do. He opened the
 
 256 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 door of the drawing-room and looked in. It was 
 empty. He turned away, meaning to ring a bell. 
 On his way across the hall he paused. A curiously 
 suggestive sound reached him faintly from the end 
 of one of the passages. It was the click of a type- 
 writer. 
 
 Hamel stood for a moment perfectly still. He had 
 hurried up to the Hall, filled with the one selfish joy 
 common to all mankind. He had had no thought 
 save the thought of seeing Esther. The click of that 
 machine brought him back to the stern realities of 
 life. He remembered his talk to Kinsley, his prom- 
 ise. On the hall table he could see from where he was 
 standing the great headlines which announced the na- 
 tion's anxiety. He was in the house of a suspected 
 spy. The click of the typewriter was an accompani- 
 ment to his thought. He looked around once more 
 and listened. Then he made his way quietly across 
 the hall and down the long passage, at the end of 
 which the room which Mr. Fentolin called his work- 
 room was situated. He turned the handle of the door 
 and entered, closing it immediately behind him. The 
 woman who was typing paused with her fingers upon 
 the keys. Her eyes met his coldly, without curios- 
 ity. She had paused in her work, but she took no 
 other notice of his coming. 
 
 " Has Mr. Fentolin sent you here ? " she asked at 
 last. 
 
 He came over to the typewriter. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin has not sent me," he said slowly. 
 44 1 am here on my own account. I dare say you will 
 think that I am a lunatic to come to you like this. 
 Nevertheless, please listen to me."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 257 
 
 Her fingers left the keys. She laid her hands upon 
 the table in front of her. He drew a little nearer. 
 She covered over the sheets of paper with which she 
 was surrounded with a pad of blotting-paper. He 
 pointed suddenly to them. 
 
 " Why do you do that? " he demanded. " What is 
 there in your work that you are afraid I might see? '* 
 
 She answered him without hesitation. 
 
 " These are private papers of Mr. Fentolin's. 
 No one has any business to see them. No one has 
 any business to enter this room. Why are you 
 here?" 
 
 " I came to the Hall to find Miss Fentolin," he re- 
 plied. " I heard the click of your typewriter. I 
 came to you, I suppose I should say, on impulse." 
 
 Her eyes rested upon his, filled with a cold and 
 questioning light. 
 
 " There's an impression up in London," Hamel 
 went on, " that Mr. Fentolin has been interfering by 
 means of his wireless in affairs which don't concern 
 him, and giving away valuable information. This 
 man Dunster's disappearance is as yet unexplained. 
 I feel myself justified in making certain investiga- 
 tions, and among the first of them I should like you to 
 tell me exactly the nature of the work for which Mr. 
 Fentolin finds a secretary necessary? " 
 
 She glanced towards the bell. He moved to the 
 edge of the table as though to intercept her. 
 
 " In any ordinary case," he continued, " I would 
 not ask you to betray your employer's confidence. 
 As things are, I think I am justified. You are Eng- 
 lish, are you not? You realise, I suppose, that the 
 country is on the brink of war? "
 
 258 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 She looked at him from the depths of her still, lus- 
 terless eyes. 
 
 " You must be a very foolish person," she re- 
 marked, " if you expect to obtain information in this 
 manner." 
 
 " Perhaps I am ? " he confessed, " but my folly has 
 brought me to you, and you can give me the informa- 
 tion if you will." 
 
 " Where is Mr. Fentolin ? " she asked. 
 
 " Down at the Tower," he replied. " I left him 
 there. He sent me up to see Miss Fentolin. I was 
 looking for her when the click of your typewriter re- 
 minded me of other things." 
 
 She turned composedly back to her work. 
 
 " I think," she said, " that you had better go and 
 find Miss Fentolin." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense ! You can't think I have 
 risked giving myself away to you for nothing? I 
 mean to search this room, to read the papers which 
 you are typing." 
 
 She glanced around her a little contemptuously. 
 
 " You are welcome," she assured him. " Pray 
 proceed." 
 
 They exchanged the glances of duelists. Her 
 plain black frock was buttoned up to her throat. 
 Her colourless face seemed set in exact and expres- 
 sionless lines. Her eyes were like windows of glass. 
 He felt only their scrutiny; nothing of the reason 
 for it, or of the thoughts which stirred behind in her 
 brain. There was nothing about her attitude which 
 seemed in any way threatening, yet he had the feel- 
 ing that in this interview it was she who possessed 
 the upper hand.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 259 
 
 " You are a foolish person," she said calmly. 
 " You are so foolish that you are not, in all proba- 
 bility, in the slightest degree dangerous. Believe 
 me, ours is an unequal duel. There is a bell upon 
 this table which has apparently escaped your no- 
 tice. I sit with my finger upon the button so. 
 I have only to press it, and the servants will be here. 
 I do not wish to press it. I do not desire that you 
 should be, as you certainly would be, banished from 
 this house." 
 
 He was immensely puzzled. She had not resented 
 his strange intrusion. She had accepted it, indeed, 
 with curious equanimity. Her forefinger lingered 
 still over the little ivory knob of the bell attached 
 to her desk. He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You have the advantage of me," he admitted, a 
 little curtly. " All the same, I think I could possess 
 myself of those sheets of paper, you know, before the 
 bell was answered." 
 
 " Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their 
 safety? " she asked coolly. 
 
 Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step 
 forward. She held out her hand. 
 
 " Stop ! " she ordered. " These sheets will tell 
 you nothing which you do not know already unless 
 you are a fool. Never mind the bell. That is my 
 affair. I am sending you away." 
 
 He leaned a little towards her. 
 
 " It wouldn't be possible to bribe you, I sup- 
 pose? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I wonder you haven't tried that before. No, it 
 would not not with money, that is to say."
 
 260 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 "You'll tell Mr. Fentolin, I presume?" he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 " I have nothing to tell him," she replied. " Noth- 
 ing has happened. Richards," she went on, as a 
 servant entered the room, " Mr. Hamel is looking for 
 Miss Fentolin. Will you see if you can find her? " 
 
 The man's expression was full of polite regret. 
 
 " Miss Fentolin went over to Legh Woods early 
 this morning, sir," he announced. " She is staying 
 to lunch with Lady Saxthorpe." 
 
 Hamel stood quite still for a moment. Then he 
 turned to the window. In the far distance he could 
 catch a glimpse of the Tower. Mr. Fentolin's chair 
 had disappeared from the walk. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said. " I must have made a mis- 
 take. I will hurry back." 
 
 There were more questions which he was longing 
 to ask, but the cold negativeness of her manner 
 chilled him. She sat with her fingers poised over 
 the keys, waiting for his departure. He turned and 
 left the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, his carriage drawn up close to the 
 beach, was painting steadily when Hamel stood once 
 more by his side. His eyes moved only from the 
 sea to the canvas. He never turned his head. 
 
 " So your wooing has not prospered, my young 
 friend," he remarked gently. " I am sorry. Is 
 there anything I can do ? " 
 
 " Your niece has gone out to lunch," Hamel re- 
 plied shortly. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin stopped painting. Plis face was full 
 of concern as he looked up at Hamel. 
 
 " My dear sir," he exclaimed, " how can I apolo- 
 gise! Of course she has gone out to lunch. She 
 has gone out to Lady Saxthorpe's. I remember the 
 subject being discussed. I myself, in fact, was the 
 instigator of her going. I owe you a thousand 
 apologies, Mr. Hamel. Let me make what amends 
 are possible for your useless journey. Dine with us 
 to-night." 
 
 " You are very kind." 
 
 " A poor amends," Mr. Fentolin continued. " A 
 morning like this was made for lovers. Sunshine and 
 blue sky, a salt breeze flavoured just a little with that 
 lavender, and a stroll through my spring gardens, 
 where my hyacinths are like a field of purple and 
 gold, a mantle of jewels upon the brown earth. Ah, 
 well! One's thoughts will wander to the beautiful
 
 262 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 things of life. There were once women who loved 
 me, Mr. Hamel." 
 
 Hamel looked doubtfully at the strange little fig- 
 ure in the chair. Was this genuine, he wondered, a 
 voluntary outburst, or was it some subtle attempt to 
 incite sympathy? Mr. Fentolin seemed almost to 
 have read his thought. 
 
 " It is not for the sake of your pity that I say 
 this," he continued. " Mine is only the passing 
 across the line which age as well as infirmity makes 
 inevitable. No one in the world who lives to grow 
 old, and who has loved and felt the fire of it in his 
 veins, can pass that line without sorrow, or look back 
 without a pang. I am among a great army. Well, 
 well, I shall paint no more to-day," he concluded 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Where is your servant? " Hamel asked. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin glanced around him carelessly. 
 
 " He has wandered away out of sight. He knows 
 well how necessary solitude is to me if once I take 
 the brush between my fingers solitude natural and 
 entire, I mean. If any one is within a dozen yards 
 of me I know it, even though I cannot see them. 
 Meekins is wandering somewhere the other side of 
 the Tower." 
 
 "Shall I call him?" 
 
 " On no account," Mr. Fentolin begged. " Pres 
 ently he will appear, in plenty of time. There is the 
 morning to be passed barely eleven o'clock, I 
 think, now. I shall sit in my chair, and sink a little 
 down, and dream of these beautiful lights, these roll- 
 ing, foam-flecked waves, these patches of blue and 
 shifting green. I can form them in my brain. I
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 263 
 
 can make a picture there, even though my fingers re- 
 fuse to move. You are not an aesthete, I think, Mr. 
 Hamel? The study of beauty does not mean to you 
 what it did to your father, and my father, and, in 
 a smaller way to me." 
 
 " Perhaps not," Hamel confessed. " I believe I 
 feel these things somewhere, because they bring a 
 queer sense of content with them. I am afraid, 
 though, that my artistic perceptions are not so keen 
 as some men's." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin looked at him thoughtfully. 
 
 " It is the physical life in your veins too splen- 
 did to permit you abstract pleasures. Compensa- 
 tions again, you see compensations. I wonder 
 what the law is that governs these things. I have 
 forgotten sometimes," he went on, " forgotten my 
 own infirmities in the soft intoxication of a wonder- 
 ful seascape. Only," he went on, his face a little 
 grey, " it is the physical in life, which triumphs. 
 There are the hungry hours which nothing will sat- 
 isfy." 
 
 His head sank, his chin rested upon his chest. He 
 had all the appearance now of a man who talks in 
 bitter earnest. Yet Hamel wondered. He looked 
 towards the Tower; there was no sign of Meekins. 
 The sea-gulls went screaming above their heads. Mr. 
 Fentolin never moved. His eyes seemed half closed. 
 It was only when Hamel rose to his feet that he 
 looked swiftly up. 
 
 " Stay with me, I beg you, Mr. Hamel," he said. 
 " I am in one of the moods when solitude, even for a 
 moment, is dangerous. Do you know what I have 
 sometimes thought to myself? "
 
 264 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 He pointed to the planked way which led down the 
 steep, pebbly beach to the sea. 
 
 " I have sometimes thought," he went on, " that 
 it would be glorious to find a friend to stand by 
 my side at the top of the planks, just there, when 
 the tide was high, and to bid him loose my chair 
 and to steer it myself, to steer it down the narrow 
 path into the arms of the sea. The first touch of the 
 salt waves, the last touch of life. Why not? One 
 sleeps without fear." 
 
 He lifted his head suddenly. Meekins had ap- 
 peared, coming round from the back of the Tower. 
 Instantly Mr. Fentolin's whole manner changed. 
 He sat up in his chair. 
 
 " It is arranged, then," he said. " You dine with 
 us to-night. For the other matters of which you 
 have spoken, well, let them rest in the hands of the 
 gods. You are not very kind to me. I am not sure 
 whether you would make Esther a good husband. I 
 am not sure, even, that I like you. You take no 
 pains to make yourself agreeable. Considering that 
 your father was an artist, you seem to me rather a 
 dull and uninspired young man. But who can tell? 
 There may be things stirring beneath that torpid 
 brain of yours of which no other person knows save 
 yourself," 
 
 The concentrated gaze of Mr. Fentolin's keen eyes 
 was hard to meet, but Hamel came out of the ordeal 
 without flinching. 
 
 " At eight o'clock, Mr. Fentolin," he answered. 
 '* I can see that I must try to earn your better 
 opinion." 
 
 Hamel read steadily for the remainder of the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 265 
 
 morning. It was past one o'clock when he rose 
 stiffly from his seat among the sand knolls and, 
 strolling back to the Tower, opened the door and 
 entered. The cloth was laid for luncheon in the 
 little sitting-room, but there were no signs of Han- 
 nah Cox. He passed on into the kitchen and came 
 to a sudden standstill. Once more the memory of 
 his own work passed away from him. Once more he 
 was back again among that queer, clouded tangle 
 of strange suspicions, of thrilling, half-formed fears, 
 which had assailed him at times ever since his arrival 
 at St. David's. He stopped quite short. The words 
 which rose to his lips died away. He felt the breath- 
 less, compelling need for silence and grew tense in 
 the effort to make no sound. 
 
 Hannah Cox was kneeling on the stone floor. Her 
 ear was close to the crack of the door which led into 
 the boat-house. Her face, half turned from it, was 
 set in a strange, concentrated passion of listening; 
 her lips were parted, her eyes half closed. She took 
 no more notice of Hamel or his arrival than if he 
 had been some useless piece of furniture. Every 
 faculty seemed to be absorbed in that one intense ef- 
 fort of listening. There was no need of her out- 
 stretched finger. Hamel fell in at once with a mood 
 so mesmeric. He, too, listened. The small clock 
 which she had brought with her from the village 
 ticked away upon the mantelpiece. The full sea fell 
 with placid softness upon the high beach outside. 
 Some slight noise of cooking came from the stove. 
 Save for these things there was silence. Yet, for a 
 space of time which Hamel could never have meas- 
 ured, they both listened. When at last the womaa
 
 266 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 rose to her feet, Hamel, finding words at last, was 
 surprised to find that his throat was dry. 
 
 " What is it, Mrs. Cox? " he asked. " Why were 
 you listening there ? " 
 
 Her face was absolutely expressionless. She was 
 busying herself now with a small saucepan, and her 
 back was turned towards him. 
 
 " I spend my life, sir," she said, " listening and 
 waiting. One never knows when the end may come." 
 
 " But the boat-house," Hamel objected. " No 
 one has been in there this morning, have they? " 
 
 "Who can tell?" she answered. "He could go 
 anywhere when he chose, or how he chose through 
 the keyhole, if he wanted." 
 
 " But why listen? " Hamel persisted. " There is 
 nothing in there now but some odds and ends of ma- 
 chinery." 
 
 She turned from the fire and looked at him for a 
 moment. Her eyes were colourless, her tone unemo- 
 tional. 
 
 " Maybe ! There's no harm in listening." 
 
 " Did you hear anything which made you want to 
 listen? " 
 
 " Who can tell ? " she answered. " A woman who 
 lives well-nigh alone, as I live, in a quiet place, hears 
 things so often that other folk never listen to. 
 There's always something in my ears, night or day. 
 Sometimes I am not sure whether it's in this world 
 or the other. It was like that with me just then. 
 It was for that reason I listened. Your luncheon's 
 ready, sir." 
 
 Hamel walked thoughtfully back into his sitting- 
 room. He seated himself before a spotless cloth and
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 267 
 
 watched Hannah Cox spread out his well-cooked, 
 cleanly-served meal. 
 
 " If there's anything you want, sir," she said, 
 " I shall hear you at a word. The kitchen door is 
 open." 
 
 " One moment, Mrs. Cox." 
 
 She lingered there patiently, with the tray in her 
 hand. 
 
 " There was some sound," Hamel continued, " per- 
 haps a real sound, perhaps a fancy, which made you 
 go down on your knees in the kitchen. Tell me what 
 it was." 
 
 " The sound I always hear, sir," she answered 
 quietly. " I hear it in the night, and I hear it when 
 I stand by the sea and look out. I have heard it for 
 so many years that who can tell whether it comes from 
 this world or the other the cry of men who die ! " 
 
 She passed out. Hamel looked after her, for a 
 moment, like a man in a dream. In his fancy he 
 could see her back again once more in the kitchen, 
 kneeling on the stone floor, listening !
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 A cold twilight had fallen upon the land when 
 Hamel left the Tower that evening and walked briskly 
 along the foot-way to the Hall. Little patches of 
 mist hung over the creeks, the sky was almost frosty. 
 The lights from St. David's Hall shone like cheerful 
 beacons before him. He hastened up the stone steps, 
 crossed the terrace, and passed into the hall. A 
 servant conducted him at once to the drawing-room. 
 Mrs. Fentolin, in a pink evening dress, with a 
 pink ornament in her hair, held out both her hands. 
 In the background, Mr. Fentolin, in his queerly- 
 cut evening clothes, sat with folded arms, lean- 
 ing back in his carriage. He listened grimly to his 
 sister-in-law as she stood with Hamel's hands in 
 hers. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Hamel ! " she exclaimed. " How 
 perfectly charming of you to come up and relieve a 
 little our sad loneliness! Delightful, I call it, of 
 you. I was just saying so to Miles." 
 
 Hamel looked around the room. Already his heart 
 was beginning to sink. 
 
 " Miss Fentolin is well, I hope? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, but a very naughty girl," her mother de- 
 clared. " I let her go to Lady Saxthorpe's to lunch, 
 and now we have had simply the firmest letter from 
 Lady Saxthorpe. They insist upon keeping Esther 
 to dine and sleep. I have had to send her evening
 
 26g 
 
 clothes, but you can't tell, Mr. Hamel, how I miss 
 her." 
 
 Hamel's disappointment was a little too obvious to 
 pass unnoticed. There was a shade of annoyance, 
 too, in his face. Mr. Fentolin smoothly intervened. 
 
 " Let us be quite candid with Mr. Hamel, dear 
 Florence," he begged. " I have spoken to my sister- 
 in-law and told her the substance of our conversation 
 this morning," he proceeded, wheeling his chair nearer 
 to Hamel. " She is thunderstruck. She wishes to 
 reflect, to consider. Esther chanced to be away. 
 We have encouraged her absence for a few more 
 hours." 
 
 " I hope, Mrs. Fentolin," Hamel said simply, 
 *' that you will give her to me. I am not a rich man, 
 but I am fairly well off. I should be willing to live 
 exactly where Esther wishes, and I would do my best 
 to make her happy." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin opened her lips once and closed 
 them again. She laughed a little a high-pitched, 
 semi-hysterical laugh. The hand which gripped her 
 fan was straining so that the blue veins stood out 
 almost like whipcord. 
 
 " Esther is very young, Mr. Hamel. We must 
 talk this over. You have known her for such a very 
 short time." 
 
 A servant announced dinner, And Hamel offered his 
 arm to his hostess. 
 
 *' Is Gerald away, too ? " he asked. 
 
 " We do indeed owe you our apologies," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin declared. " Gerald is spending a couple of 
 days at the Dormy House at Brancaster a golf ar- 
 rangement made some time back."
 
 270 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " He promised to play with me to-morrow," Hamel 
 remarked thoughtfully. ** He said nothing about go- 
 ing away." 
 
 " I fear that like most young men of his age he 
 has little memory," Mr. Fentolin sighed. " How- 
 ever, he will be back to-morrow or the next day. I 
 owe you my apologies, Mr. Hamel, for our lack of 
 young people. We must do our best to entertain our 
 guest, Florence. You must be at your best, dear. 
 You must tell him some of those capital stories of 
 yours." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin shivered for a moment. Hamel, as 
 he handed her to her place, was struck by a strange 
 look which she threw upon him, half furtive, full of 
 pain. Her hand almost clung to his. She slipped a 
 little, and he held her tightly. Then he was sud- 
 denly conscious that something hard was being 
 pressed into his palm. He drew his hand away at 
 once. 
 
 " You seem a little unsteady this evening, my dear 
 Florence," Mr. Fentolin remarked, peering across the 
 round table. 
 
 She eyed him nonchalantly enough. 
 
 " The floor is slippery," she said. " I was glad, 
 for a moment, of Mr. Hamel's strong hand. Where 
 are those dear puppies? Chow-Chow," she went on, 
 " come and sit by your mistress at once." 
 . Hamel's fingers inside his waistcoat pocket were 
 smoothing out the crumpled piece of paper which 
 she had passed to him. Soon he had it quite flat. 
 Mrs. Fentolin, as though freed from some anxiety, 
 chattered away gaily. 
 
 " I don't know that I shall apologise to Mr. Hamel
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 271 
 
 at all for the young people being away," she de- 
 clared. " Just fancy what we have saved him from 
 a solitary meal served by Hannah Cox ! Do you 
 know that they say she is half-witted, Mr. Hamel? " 
 
 " So far, she has looked after me very well," Hamel 
 observed. 
 
 " Her intellect is defective," Mr. Fentolin re- 
 marked, " on one point only. The good woman is 
 obsessed by the idea that her husband and sons are 
 still calling to her from the Dagger Rocks. It is al- 
 most pitiful to meet her wandering about there on 
 a stormy night. The seacoasts are full of these little 
 village tragedies real tragedies, too, however in- 
 significant they may seem to us." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's tone was gently sympathetic. He 
 changed the subject a moment or two later, how- 
 ever. 
 
 " Nero fiddles to-night," he said, " while Rome 
 burns. There are hundreds in our position, yet it 
 certainly seems queer that we should be sitting here 
 so quietly when the whole country is in such a state 
 of excitement. I see the press this morning is preach- 
 ing an immediate declaration of war." 
 
 " Against whom ? " Mrs. Fentolin asked. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. 
 
 " That does seem to be rather the trouble," he ad- 
 mitted. " Russia, Austria, Germany, Italy, and 
 France are all assisting at a Conference to which no 
 English representative has been bidden. In a sense, 
 of course, that is equivalent to an act of hostility 
 from all these countries towards England. The 
 question is whether we have or have not a secret 
 understanding with France, and if so, how far she
 
 272 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 will be bound by it. There is a rumour that when 
 Monsieur Deschelles was asked formally whom he rep- 
 resented, that he replied ' France and Great 
 Britain.' There may be something in it. It is hard 
 to see how any English statesman could have left 
 unguarded the Mediterranean, with all that it means, 
 trusting simply to the faith of a country with whom 
 we have no binding agreement. On the other hand* 
 there is the mobilisation of the fleet. If France is 
 really faithful, one wonders if there was need for such 
 an extreme step." 
 
 " I am out of touch with political affairs," Hamel 
 declared. " I have been away from England for so 
 long." 
 
 " I, on the other hand," Mr. Fentolin continued, his 
 eyes glittering a little, " have made the study of the 
 political situation in Europe my hobby for years. I 
 have sent to me the leading newspapers of Berlin, 
 Rome, Paris, St. Petersburg, and Vienna. For two 
 hours every day I read them, side by side. It is 
 curious sometimes to note the common understanding 
 which seems to exist between the Powers not bound 
 by any formal alliance. For years war seemed a very 
 unlikely thing, and now," he added, leaning forward 
 in his chair, " I pronounce it almost a certainty." 
 
 Hainel looked at his host a little curiously. Mr. 
 Fentolin's gentleness of expression seemed to have de- 
 parted. His face was hard, his eyes agleam. He 
 had almost the look of a bird of prey. For some rea- 
 son, the thought of war seemed to be a joy to him. 
 Perhaps he read something of Hamel's wonder in his 
 expression, for with a shrug of the shoulders he dis- 
 missed the subject.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 273 
 
 " Well," he concluded, " all these things lie on the 
 knees of the gods. I dare say you wonder, Mr. Hamei, 
 why a poor useless creature like myself should take the 
 slightest interest in passing events? It is just the fas- 
 cination of the looker-on. I want your opinion about 
 that champagne. Florence dear, you must join us. 
 We will drink to Mr. Hamel's health. We will per- 
 haps couple that toast in our minds with the senti- 
 ment which I am sure is not very far from your 
 thoughts, Florence." 
 
 Hamel raised his glass and bowed to his host and 
 hostess. He was not wholly at his ease. It seemed 
 to him that he was being watched with a queer per- 
 sistence by both of them. Mrs. Fentolin continued 
 to talk and laugh with a gaiety which was too ob- 
 viously forced. Mr. Fentolin posed for a while as 
 the benevolent listener. He mildly applauded his 
 sister-in-law's stories, and encouraged Hamel in the 
 recital of some of his reminiscences. Suddenly the 
 door was opened. Miss Price appeared. She walked 
 smoothly across the room and stood by Mr. Fen- 
 tolin's side. Stooping down, she whispered in his 
 ar. He pushed his chair back a little from the 
 table. His face was dark with anger. 
 
 " I said not before ten to-night," he muttered. 
 
 Again she spoke in his ear, so softly that the sound 
 of her voice itself scarcely travelled even as far as 
 where Hamel was sitting. Mr. Fentolin looked stead- 
 fastly for a moment at his sister-in-law and from 
 her to Hamel. Then he backed his chair away from, 
 the table. 
 
 " I shall have to ask to be excused for three min- 
 utes," he said. " I must speak upon the telephone.
 
 274 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 It is a call from some one who declares that they 
 have important news." 
 
 He turned the steering-wheel of his chair, and with 
 Miss Price by his side passed across the dining-room, 
 out of the oasis of rose-shaded lights into the shad- 
 ows, and through the open door. From there he 
 turned his head before he disappeared, as though to 
 watch his guest. Mrs. Fentolin was busy fondling 
 one of her dogs, which she had raised to her lap, and 
 Hamel was watching her with a tolerant smile. 
 
 " Koto, you little idiot, why can't you sit up like 
 your sister? Was its tail in the way, then! Mr. 
 Hamel," she whispered under her breath, so softly 
 that he barely caught the words, although he was 
 only a few feet away, " don't look at me. I feel as 
 though we were being watched all the time. You can 
 destroy that piece of paper in your pocket. All that 
 it says is : ' Leave here immediately after din- 
 ner.' " 
 
 Hamel sipped his wine in a nonchalant fashion. 
 His fingers had strayed over the silky coat of the 
 little dog, which she had held out as though for his 
 inspection. 
 
 "How can I?" he asked. "What excuse can I 
 make?" 
 
 " Invent one," she insisted swiftly. " Leave here 
 before ten o'clock. Don't let anything keep you. 
 And destroy that piece of paper in your pocket, if 
 you can now." 
 . " But, Mrs. Fentolin " he began. 
 
 She caught up one of her absurd little pets and 
 held it to her mouth. 
 
 " Meekins is in the doorway," she whispered.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 275 
 
 *' Don't argue with me, please. You are in danger 
 you know nothing about. Pass me the cigarettes." 
 
 She leaned back in her chair, smoking quickly. 
 She held one of the dogs on her knee and talked rub- 
 bish to it. Hamel watched her, leaning back in his 
 carved oak chair, and he found it hard to keep the 
 pity from his eyes. The woman was playing a part, 
 playing it with desperate and pitiful earnestness, a 
 part which seemed the more tragical because of the 
 soft splendour of their surroundings. From the 
 shadowy walls, huge, dimly-seen pictures hung about 
 them, a strange and yet impressive background. 
 Their small round dining-table, with its rare cut 
 glass, its perfect appointments, its bowls of pink 
 roses, was like a spot of wonderful colour in the great 
 room. Two men servants stood at the sideboard a 
 few yards away, a triumph of negativeness. The 
 butler, who had been absent for a moment, stood now 
 silently waiting behind his master's place. Hamel 
 was oppressed, during those few minutes of waiting, 
 by a curious sense of unreality, as though he were 
 taking part in some strange tableau. There was 
 something unreal about his surroundings and his own 
 presence there ; something unreal in the atmosphere, 
 charged as it seemed to be with some omen of im- 
 pending happenings ; something unreal in that whis- 
 pered warning, those few hoarsely uttered words 
 which had stolen to his hearing across the clusters 
 of drooping roses ; the absurd babble of the woman, 
 who sat there with tragic things under the powder 
 with which her face was daubed. 
 
 " Koto must learn to sit upon his tail like that. 
 No, not another grape till he sits up. There, then ! "
 
 27 6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 4 
 
 She was leaning forward with a grape between 
 her teeth, towards the tiny animal who was trying in 
 vain to balance his absurdly shaped little body upon 
 the tablecloth. Hamel, without looking around, knew 
 quite well what was happening. Soon he heard the 
 click of the chair. Mr. Fentolin was back in his 
 place. His skin seemed paler and more parchment- 
 like than ever. His eyes glittered. 
 
 " It seems," he announced quietly, as he raised his 
 wine-glass to his lips with the air of one needing 
 support, " that we entertained an angel unawares 
 here. This Mr. Dunster is lost for the second time. 
 A very important personage he turns out to be." 
 
 " You mean the American whom Gerald brought 
 home after the accident? " Mrs. Fentolin asked care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Fentolin replied. " He insisted upon 
 continuing his journey before he was strong enough. 
 I warned him of what might happen. He has evi- 
 dently been take ill somewhere. It seems that he was 
 on his way to The Hague." 
 
 " Do you mean that he has disappeared altogether 
 this time ? " Hamel asked. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook his head. 
 
 " No, he has found his way to The Hague safely 
 enough. He is lying there at a hotel in the city, 
 but he is unconscious. There is some talk about his 
 having been robbed on the way. At any rate, they 
 are tracing his movements backwards. We are to be 
 honoured with a visit from one of Scotland Yard's de- 
 tectives, to reconstruct his journey from here. Our 
 quiet little corner of the world is becoming quite 
 notorious. Florence dear, you are tired. I can
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 277 
 
 see it in your eyes. Your headache continues, I am 
 sure. We will not be selfish. Mr. Hamel and I are 
 going to have a long evening in the library. Let 
 me recommend a phenacetin and bed." 
 
 She rose at once to her feet, with a dog under 
 either arm. 
 
 " I'll take the phenacetin," she promised, " but I 
 hate going to bed early. Shall I see you again, I 
 wonder, Mr. Hamel? " 
 
 " Not this evening, I fear," he answered. " I am 
 going to ask Mr. Fentolin to excuse me early." 
 
 She passed out of the room. Hamel escorted her 
 as far as the door and then returned. Mr. Fentolin 
 was sitting quite still in his chair. His eyes were 
 fixed upon the tablecloth. He looked up quickly as 
 Hamel resumed his seat. 
 
 " You are not in earnest, I hope, Mr. Hamel," he 
 said, "when you tell me that you must leave early? 
 I have been anticipating a long evening. My library 
 is filled with books on South America which I want 
 to discuss with you." 
 
 " Another evening, if you don't mind," Hamel 
 begged. " To-night I must ask you to excuse my 
 hurrying away." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin looked up from underneath his eye- 
 lids. His glance was quick and penetrating. 
 
 "Why this haste?" 
 
 Hamel shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " To tell you the truth," he admitted, " I had an 
 idea while I was reading an article on cantilever 
 bridges this morning. I want to work it out." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin glanced behind him. The door of 
 the dining-room was closed. The servants had dis-
 
 278 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 appeared. Meekins alone, looking more like a prize- 
 fighter than ever in his somber evening clothes, had 
 taken the place of the butler behind his master's 
 chair. 
 
 " We shall see," Mr. Fentolin said quietly.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Mr. Fentolin pointed to the little pile of books 
 upon the table, the deep easy-chair, the green-shaded 
 lamps, the decanter of wine. He had insisted upon 
 a visit, however brief, to the library. 
 
 " It is a student's appeal which I make to you, 
 Mr. Hamel," he said, with a whimsical smile. " Here 
 we are in my study, with the door closed, secure 
 against interruption, a bright fire in the grate, a 
 howling and ever-increasing wind outside. Let us 
 go together over the ground of your last wonderful 
 expedition over the Andes. You will find that I am 
 not altogether ignorant of your profession, or of 
 those very interesting geological problems which you 
 spoke of in connection with that marvellous railway 
 scheme. We will discuss them side by side as sy- 
 barites, hang ourselves around with cigarette smoke, 
 drink wine, and presently coffee. It is necessary, is 
 it not, for many reasons, that we become better ac- 
 quainted? You realise that, I am sure, and you will 
 not persist in returning to your selfish solitude." 
 
 Hamel's eyes were fixed a little longingly upon 
 some of the volumes with which the table was covered. 
 
 " You must not think me ungrateful or churlish, 
 Mr. Fentolin," he begged. " I have a habit of keep- 
 ing promises which I make to myself, and to-night I 
 have made myself a promise that I will be back at 
 the Tower by ten o'clock."
 
 2 8o THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 "You are obdurate?" Mr. Fentolin asked softly. 
 " I am afraid I am." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his 
 chair. 
 
 " Tell me," he insisted, " is there any other person 
 save yourself to whom you have given this mysterious 
 promise? " 
 
 " No one," Hamel replied promptly. 
 " I am a person very sensitive to atmosphere," 
 Mr. Fentolin continued slowly. " Since the un- 
 fortunate visit of this man Dunster, I seem to have 
 been conscious of a certain suspicion, a little cloud 
 of suspicion under which I seem to live and move, 
 even among the members of my own household. My 
 sister-in-law is nervous and hysterical; Gerald has 
 been sullen and. disobedient ; Esther has avoided me. 
 And now well, I find even your attitude a little 
 difficult to understand. What does it mean, Mr. 
 Hamel? " 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " I am not in the confidence of the different mem- 
 bers of your family," he answered. " So far as I, 
 personally, am concerned " 
 
 " It pleases me sometimes," Mr. Fentolin inter- 
 rupted, " to interfere to some extent in the affairs 
 of the outside world. If I do so, that is my busi- 
 ness. I do it for my own amusement. It is at no 
 time a serious position which I take up. Have I by 
 any chance, Mr. Hamel, become an object of sus- 
 picion to you? " 
 
 " There are matters in which you are concerned," 
 Hamel admitted, " which I do not understand, but I 
 see no purpose in discussing them."
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 281 
 
 Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semi- 
 circle. He was now between the door and Hamel. 
 
 " Weaker mortals than I, Mr. Hamel," he said 
 calmly, " have wielded before now the powers of life 
 and death. From my chair I can make the lightnings 
 bite. Science has done away with the triumph of 
 muscularity. Even as we are here together at this 
 moment, Mr. Hamel, if we should disagree, it is I 
 who am the preordained victor." 
 
 Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was an 
 end, then, of all doubt! He remained silent. 
 
 " Suspicions which are, in a sense, absurd," Mr. 
 Fentolin continued, " have grown until I find them 
 obtrusive and obnoxious. What have I to do with 
 Mr. John P. Dunster? I sent him out from my 
 house. If he is lost or ill, the affair is not mine. 
 Yet one by one those around me are falling away. 
 I told you an hour ago that Gerald was at Bran- 
 caster. It is a lie. He has left this house, but no 
 soul in it knows his destination." 
 
 Hamel started. 
 
 " You mean that he has run away ? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded. 
 
 " All that I can surmise is that he has followed 
 Dunster," he proceeded. " He has an idea that in 
 some way I robbed or injured the man. He has 
 broken the bond of relationship between us. He has 
 broken his solemn vow. He has run a grave and 
 terrible risk." 
 
 "What of Miss Esther?" Hamel asked quickly. 
 
 " I have sent her away," Mr. Fentolin replied, 
 " until we come to a clear understanding, you and I, 
 You seem to be a harmless enough person, Mr. Hamel,
 
 282 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 but appearances are sometimes deceptive. It has 
 been suggested to me that you are a spy." 
 
 " By whom? " Hamel demanded. 
 
 " By those in whom I trust," Mr. Fentolin told 
 him sternly. " You are a friend of Reginald Kins- 
 ley. You met him in Norwich the other day 
 secretly. Kinsley's chief is a member of the Govern- 
 ment. He is one of those who will find eternal oblo- 
 quy if The Hague Conference comes to a success- 
 ful termination. For some strange reason, I am 
 supposed to have robbed or harmed the one man in 
 the world whose message might bring to nought that 
 Conference. Are you here to watch me, Mr. Hamel? 
 Are you one of those who believe that I am either 
 in the pay of a foreign country, or that my harm- 
 less efforts to interest myself in great things are 
 efforts inimical to this country ; that I am, in short, 
 a traitor? " 
 
 " You must admit that many of your actions are 
 incomprehensible," Hamel replied slowly. " There 
 are things here which I do not understand which 
 certainly require explanation." 
 
 " Still, why do you make them your business ? " Mr. 
 Fentolin persisted. " If indeed the course which I 
 steer is a harmless one," he continued, with a strange 
 new glitter in his eyes, " then you are an impertinent 
 stranger to whom my doors cannot any longer be 
 open. If you have taken advantage of my hos- 
 pitality to spy upon me and my actions, if indeed 
 you have a mission here, then you can carry it with 
 you down into hell ! " 
 
 "I understand that you are threatening me?" 
 Hamel murmured.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 283 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. 
 
 " Scarcely that, my young friend. I am not quite 
 the obvious sort of villain who flourishes revolvers 
 and lures his victims into secret chambers. These 
 words to you are simply words of warning. I am not 
 like other men, neither am I used to being crossed. 
 When I am crossed, I am dangerous. Leave here, 
 if you will, in safety, and mind your own affairs ; but 
 if you show one particle of curiosity as to mine, if 
 you interfere in matters which concern me and me 
 only, remember that you are encircled by powers 
 which are entirely ruthless, absolutely omnipotent. 
 You can walk back to the Tower to-night and re- 
 member that there isn't a step you take which might 
 not be your last if I willed it, and never a soul the 
 wiser. There's a very hungry little mother here who 
 takes her victims and holds them tight. You can 
 hear her calling to you now. Listen ! " 
 
 He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and 
 through the half-open window came the low thunder 
 of the waves. 
 
 " You decline to share my evening," Mr. Fen- 
 tolin concluded. " Let it be so. Go your own way, 
 Hamel, only take care that your way does not cross 
 mine." 
 
 He backed his chair slowly and pressed the bell. 
 Hamel felt himself dismissed. He passed out into 
 the hall. The door of the drawing-room stood open, 
 and he heard the sound of Mrs. Fentolin's thin voice 
 singing some little French song. He hesitated and 
 then stepped in. With one hand she beckoned him 
 to her, continuing to play all the time. He stepped 
 over to her side.
 
 284 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I come to make my adieux," he whispered, with 
 a glance towards the door. 
 
 " You are leaving, then ? " she asked quickly. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin is in a strange humour," she went 
 on, a moment later, after she had struck the final 
 chords of her song. " There are things going on 
 around us which no one can understand. I think 
 that one of his schemes has miscarried; he has gone 
 too far. He suspects you ; I cannot tell you why or 
 how. If only you would go away ! " 
 
 "What about Esther?" he asked quietly. 
 
 " You must leave her," she cried, with a little 
 catch in her throat. " Gerald has broken away. 
 Esther and I must carry still the burden." 
 
 She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers 
 for a moment. 
 
 " Mrs. Fentolin," he said, " I have been a good 
 many years making up my mind. Now that I have 
 done so, I do not think that any one will keep Esther 
 from me." 
 
 She looked at him a little pitifully, a little wist- 
 fully. Then, with a shrug of the shoulders, she 
 turned round to the piano and recommenced to play. 
 Hamel took his coat and hat from a servant who 
 was waiting in the hall and passed out into the 
 night. 
 
 He walked briskly until he reached the Tower. 
 The wind had risen, but there was still enough light 
 to help him on his way. The little building was in 
 complete darkness. He opened the door and stepped 
 into the sitting-room, lit the lamp, and, holding it 
 over his head, went down the passage and into the
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 285 
 
 kitchen. Then he gave a start. The lamp nearly 
 slipped from his fingers. Kneeling on the stone 
 floor, in very much the same attitude as he had 
 found her earlier in the day, Hannah Cox was crouch- 
 ing patiently by the door which led into the boat- 
 house, her face expressionless, her ear turned towards 
 the crack. She was still listening.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 Hamel set down the lamp upon the table. He 
 glanced at the little clock upon the dresser ; it was 
 a quarter past ten. The woman had observed his 
 entrance, although it seemed in no way to have dis- 
 composed her. 
 
 " Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox ? " he asked. 
 " You ought to have been home hours ago. What 
 are you doing there? " 
 
 She rose to her feet. Her expression was one 
 of dogged but patient humility. 
 
 " I started for home before nine o'clock, sir," she 
 told him, " but it was worse than ever to-night. All 
 the way along by the sea I seemed to hear their 
 voices, so I came back. I came back to listen. I 
 have been listening for an hour." 
 
 Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Mrs. Cox," he said, " I wish I could understand 
 what it is that you have in your mind. Those are 
 not real voices that you hear ; you cannot believe 
 that?" 
 
 " Not real voices," she repeated, without the slight- 
 est expression in her tone. 
 
 " Of course not ! And tell me what connection 
 you find between these fancies of yours and that 
 room? Why do you come and listen here? " 
 
 " I do not know," she answered patiently.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 287 
 
 " You must have some reason," he persisted. 
 
 41 1 have no reason," she assured him, " only 
 some day I shall see behind these doors. After- 
 wards, I shall hear the voices no more." 
 
 She was busy tying a shawl around her head. 
 Hamel watched her, still puzzled. He could not get 
 rid of the idea that there was some method behind 
 her madness. 
 
 " Tell me I have found you listening here be- 
 fore. Have you ever heard anything suspicious? " 
 
 " I have heard nothing yet," she admitted, " noth- 
 ing that counts." 
 
 " Come," he continued, " couldn't we clear this 
 matter up sensibly? Do you believe that there is 
 anybody in there? Do you believe the place is be- 
 ing used in any way for a wrong purpose? If so, 
 we will insist upon having the keys from Mr. Fen- 
 tolin. He cannt refuse. The place is mine." 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin would not give you the keys, sir," 
 she replied. " If he did, it would be useless." 
 
 " Would you like me to break the door in? " 
 Hamel asked. 
 
 " You could not do it, sir," she told him, " not 
 you nor anybody else. The door is thicker than 
 my fist, of solid oak. It was a mechanic from New 
 York who fitted the locks. I have heard it said in 
 the village Bill Hamas, the carpenter, declares 
 that there are double doors. The workmen who 
 were employed here were housed in a tent upon the 
 beach and sent home the day they finished their job. 
 They were never allowed in the village. They were 
 foreigners, most of them. They came from nobody 
 knows where, and when they had finished they disap-
 
 288 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 peared. Why was that, sir? What is there inside 
 which Mr. Fentolin needs to guard so carefully? " 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin has invented something," Hamel 
 explained. " He keeps the model in there. Inven- 
 tors are very jealous of their work." 
 
 She looked down upon the floor for a moment. 
 
 " I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, 
 sir. I will give you your breakfast at the usual 
 time." 
 
 Hamel opened the door for her. 
 
 " Good night, Mrs. Cox," he said. " Would you 
 like me to walk a little way with you? It's a lonely 
 path to the village, and the dikes are full." 
 
 " Thank you, no, sir," she replied. " It's a lonely 
 way, right enough, but it isn't loneliness that 
 frightens me. I am less afraid out with the winds 
 and the darkness than under this roof. If I lose my 
 way and wander all night upon the marsh, I'll be 
 safer out there than you, sir." 
 
 She passed away, and Hamel watched her disap- 
 pear into the darkness. Then he dragged out a 
 bowl of tobacco and filled a pipe. Although he was 
 half ashamed of himself, he strolled back once more 
 into the kitchen, and, drawing up a stool, he sat 
 down just where he had discovered Hannah Cox, sat 
 still and listened. No sound of any sort reached 
 him. He sat there for ten minutes. Then he 
 scrambled to his feet. 
 
 " She is mad, of course ! " he muttered. 
 
 He mixed himself a whisky and soda, relit his 
 pipe, which had gone out, and drew up an easy-chair 
 to the fire which she had left him in the sitting-room. 
 The wind had increased in violence, and the panes
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 289 
 
 of his window rattled continually. He yawned and 
 tried to fancy that he was sleepy. It was useless. 
 He was compelled to admit the truth that his 
 nerves were all on edge. In a sense he was afraid. 
 The thought of bed repelled him. He had not a 
 single impulse towards repose. Outside, the wind all 
 the time was gathering force. More than once his 
 window was splashed with the spray carried on by 
 the wind which followed the tide. He sat quite still 
 and tried to think calmly, tried to piece together in 
 his mind the sequence of events which had brought 
 him to this part of the world and which had led 
 to his remaining where he was, an undesired 
 hanger-on at the threshold of Miles Fentolin. He 
 had the feeling that to-night he had burned his boats. 
 There was no longer any pretence of friendliness 
 possible between him and this strange creature. Mr. 
 Fentolin suspected him, realised that he himself was 
 suspected. But of what? Hamel moved in his chair 
 restlessly. Sometimes that gathering cloud of sus- 
 picion seemed to him grotesque. Of what real harm 
 could he be capable, this little autocrat who from 
 his chair seemed to exercise such a malign influence 
 upon every one with whom he was brought into con- 
 tact? Hamel sighed. The riddle was insoluble. 
 With a sudden rush of warmer and more joyous 
 feelings, he let the subject slip away from him. He 
 closed his eyes and dreamed for a while. There 
 was a new world before him, joys which only so short 
 a time ago he had fancied had passed him by. 
 
 He sat up in his chair with a start. The fire had 
 become merely a handful of grey ashes, his limbs were 
 numb and stiff. The lamp was flickering out. He
 
 ago THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 had been dozing, how long he had no idea. Some- 
 thing had awakened him abruptly. There was a 
 cold draught blowing through the room. He turned 
 his head, his hands still gripping the sides of his 
 chair. His heart gave a leap. The outer door was 
 a few inches open, was being held open by some in- 
 visible force. There was some one there, some one on 
 the point of entering stealthily. Even as he watched, 
 the crack became a little wider. He sat with his 
 eyes riveted upon that opening space. The unseen 
 hand was still at work. Every instant he expected 
 to see a face thrust forward. The sensation of ab- 
 solute physical fear by which he was oppressed was 
 a revelation to him. He found himself wishing al- 
 most feverishly that he was armed. The physical 
 strength in which he had trusted seemed to him at 
 that instant a valueless and impotent thing. There 
 was a splash of spray or raindrops against the 
 window and through the crack in the door. The 
 lamp chimney hissed and spluttered and finally the 
 light went out. The room was in sudden darkness. 
 Hamel sprang then to his feet. Silence had become 
 an intolerable thing. He felt the close presence of 
 another human being creeping in upon him. 
 
 " Who's there ? " he cried. " Who's there, I say ? " 
 There was no direct answer, only the . door was 
 pushed a little further open. He had stepped close 
 to it now. The sweep of the wind was upon his 
 face, although in the black darkness he could see 
 nothing. And then a sudden recollection flashed in 
 upon him. From his trousers pocket he snatched a 
 little electric torch. In an instant his thumb had 
 pressed the button. He turned it upon the door.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 291 
 
 The shivering white hand which held it open was 
 plainly in view. It was the hand of a woman! He 
 stepped swiftly forward. A dark figure almost fell 
 into his arms. 
 
 " Mrs. Fentolin ! " he exclaimed, aghast. 
 
 An hysterical cry, choked and subdued, broke from 
 her lips. He half carried, half led her to his easy- 
 chair. Suddenly steadied by the presence of this un- 
 looked-for emergency, he closed the outside door and 
 relit the lamp with firm fingers. Then he turned to 
 face her, and his amazement at this strange visit be- 
 came consternation. 
 
 She was still in her dinner-gown of black satin, 
 but it was soaked through with the rain and hung 
 about her like a black shroud. She had lost one 
 shoe, and there was a great hole in her silk stocking. 
 Her hair was all disarranged; one of its numerous 
 switches was hanging down over her ear. The rouge 
 upon her cheeks had run down on to her neck. She 
 sat there, looking at him out of her hollow eyes like 
 some trapped animal. She was shaking with fear. 
 It was fear, not faintness, which kept her silent. 
 
 " Tell me, please, what is the matter? " he insisted, 
 speaking as indifferently as he could. " Tell me at 
 once what has happened? " 
 
 She pointed to the door. 
 
 " Lock it ! " she implored. 
 
 He turned down the latch and drew the bolt. The 
 sound seemed to give her a little courage. Her 
 fingers went to her throat for a moment. 
 
 " Give me some water." 
 
 He poured out some soda-water. She drank only 
 a sip and put it down again. He began to be
 
 29 2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 alarmed. She had the appearance of one who has 
 suddenly lost her senses. 
 
 " Please tell me just what has happened? " he 
 begged. " If I can help in any way, you know I 
 will. But you must tell me. Do you realise that it 
 is three o'clock? I should have been in bed, only I 
 went to sleep over the fire here." 
 
 " I know," she answered. " It is just the wind 
 that has taken away my breath. It was a hard 
 struggle to get here. Listen you are our friend, 
 Mr. Hamel Esther's and mine? Swear that you 
 are our friend? " 
 
 " Upon my honour, I am," he assured her. " You 
 should know that." 
 
 " For eight years," she went on, her voice clear 
 enough now, although it seemed charged with a 
 curious metallic vibration, " for eight years we've 
 borne it, all three of us, slaves, bound hand and foot, 
 lashed with his tongue, driven along the path of his 
 desires. We have seen evil things. We have been 
 on the point of rebellion, and he's come a little 
 nearer and he's pointed back. He has taken me by 
 the hand, and I have walked by the side of his chair, 
 loathing it, loathing myself, out on to the terrace 
 and down below, just where it happened. You 
 know what happened there, Mr. Hamel? " 
 
 " You mean where Mr. Fentolin met with his ac- 
 cident." 
 
 " It was no accident ! " she cried, glancing for a 
 moment around her. " It was no accident ! It was 
 my husband who took him up and threw him over 
 the terrace, down below; my husband who tried to 
 kill him; Esther's father Gerald's father! Miles
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 293 
 
 was in the Foreign Office then, and he did something 
 disgraceful. He sold a secret to Austria. He was 
 always a great gambler, and he was in debt. Sey- 
 mour found out about it. He followed him down 
 here. They met upon the terrace. I I saw it ! " 
 
 He was silent for a moment. 
 
 " No one has known the truth," he murmured. 
 
 " No one has ever known," she assented, " and 
 our broken lives have been the price. It was Miles 
 himself who made the bargain. We we can't go 
 on, Mr. Hamel.'.' 
 
 " I begin to understand," Hamel said softly. 
 " You suffer everything from Miles Fentolin because 
 he kept the secret. Very well, that belongs to the 
 past. Something has happened, something to-night, 
 which has brought you here. Tell me about it? " 
 
 Once more her voice began to shake. 
 
 We've seen terrible things horrible things," 
 she faltered. " We've held our peace. Perhaps it's 
 been nearly as bad before, but we've closed our eyes ; 
 we haven't wanted to know. Now we can't help 
 it. Mr. Hamel, Esther isn't at Lord Saxthorpe's. 
 She never went there. They didn't ask her. And 
 Dunster the man Dunster 
 
 "Where is Esther?" Hamel interrupted sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Locked up away from you, locked up because 
 she rebelled ! " 
 
 " And Dunster? " 
 
 She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with 
 horror. 
 
 " But he left the Hall I saw him ! " 
 
 She shcok her head.
 
 294 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " It wasn't Dunster. It was the man Miles makes 
 use of Ryan, the librarian. He was once an 
 actor." 
 
 " Where is Dunster, then? " Hamel asked quickly. 
 " What has become of him ? " 
 
 She opened her lips and closed them again, strug- 
 gled to speak and failed. She sat there, breathing 
 quickly, but silent. The power of speech had gone.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 Hamel, for the next few minutes, forgot every- 
 thing else in his efforts to restore to consciousness 
 his unexpected visitor. He rebuilt the fire, heated 
 some water upon his spirit lamp, and forced some 
 hot drink between the lips of the woman who was 
 now almost in a state of collapse. Then he wrapped 
 her round in his own ulster and drew her closer to 
 the fire. He tried during those few moments to put 
 away the memory of all that she had told him. 
 Gradually she began to recover. She opened her 
 eyes and drew a little sigh. She made no effort at 
 speech, however. She simply lay and looked at him 
 like some wounded animal. He came over to her 
 side and chafed one of her cold hands. 
 
 " Come," he said at last, " you begin to look more 
 like yourself now. You are quite safe in here, and, 
 for Esther's sake as well as your own, you know that 
 I am your friend." 
 
 She nodded, and her fingers gently pressed his. 
 
 " I am sure of it," she murmured. 
 
 " Now let us see where we are," he continued. 
 " Tell me exactly why you risked so much by leav- 
 ing St. David's Hall to-night and coming down here. 
 Isn't there any chance that he might find out ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. " It was Lucy 
 Price who sent me. She came to my room just as I 
 was undressing."
 
 296 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 "Lucy Price," he repeated. "The secretary?" 
 
 " Yes ! She told me that she had meant to come 
 to you herself. She sent me instead. She thought 
 it best. This man Dunster is being kept alive be- 
 cause there is something Miles wants him to tell him, 
 and he won't. But to-night, if he is still alive, if he 
 won't tell, they mean to make away with him. They 
 are afraid." 
 
 " Miss Price told you this? " Hamel asked gravely. 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin nodded. 
 
 " Yes ! She said so. She knows she knows 
 everything. She has been like the rest of us. She, 
 too, has suffered. She, too, has reached the breaking 
 point. She loved him before the accident. She 
 has been his slave ever since. Listen ! " 
 
 She suddenly clutched his arm. They were both 
 silent. There was nothing to be heard but the wind. 
 She leaned a little closer to him. 
 
 " Lucy Price sent me here to-night because she 
 was afraid that it was to-night they meant to take 
 him from his hiding-place and kill him. The police 
 have left off searching for Mr. Dunster in Yarmouth 
 and at The Hague. There is a detective in the 
 neighbourhood and another one on his way here. 
 They are afraid to keep him alive any longer." 
 
 " Where was Mr. Fentolin when you left? " Hamel 
 asked. 
 
 " I asked Lucy Price that," she replied. " When 
 she came to my room, there were no signs of his 
 leaving. She told me to come and tell you every- 
 thing. Do you know where Mr. Dunster is ? " 
 
 Hamel shook his head. 
 
 " Within a few yards of here," she went on. " He
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 297 
 
 is in the boat-house, the place where Miles told you 
 he kept a model of his invention. They brought him 
 here the night before they put his clothes on Ryan 
 and sent him off disguised as Mr. Dunster, in the car 
 to Yarmouth." 
 
 Hamel started up, but she clutched at his arm 
 and pulled him back. " No," she cried, " you can't 
 break in! There are double doors and a wonderful 
 lock. The boat-house is yours ; the building is yours. 
 In the morning you must demand the keys if he 
 does not come to-night ! " 
 
 " And how are we to know," Hamel asked, " if 
 he comes to-night?" 
 
 " Go outside," she whispered. " Look towards St. 
 David's Hall and tell me how many lights you can 
 see." 
 
 He drew back the bolt, unlatched the door, and 
 stepped out into the darkness. The wind and the 
 driving rain beat against his face. A cloud of spray 
 enveloped and soaked him. Like lamps hung in the 
 sky, the lights of St. David's Hall shone out through 
 the black gulf: He counted them carefully ; then he 
 stepped back. 
 
 " There are seven," he told her, closing the door 
 with an effort. 
 
 She counted upon her fingers. 
 
 " I must come and see," she muttered. " I must 
 be sure. Help me." 
 
 He lifted her to her feet, and they staggered out 
 together. 
 
 " Look ! " she went on, gripping his arm. " You 
 see that row of lights? If anything happens, if Mr. 
 Fentolin leaves the Hall to-night to come down here,
 
 2 g8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 a light will appear on the left in the far corner. We 
 must watch for that light. We must watch " 
 
 The words, whispered hoarsely into his ear, sud- 
 denly died away. Even as they stood there, far away 
 from the other lights, another one shone suddenly 
 out in the spot towards which she had pointed, and 
 continued to burn steadily. He felt the woman who 
 was clinging to his arm become suddenly a dead 
 weight. 
 
 " She was right ! " Mrs. Fentolin moaned. " He 
 is coming down to-night ! He is preparing to leave 
 now; perhaps he has already started! What shall 
 we do? What shall we do? " 
 
 Hamel was conscious of a gathering sense of ex- 
 citement. He, too, looked at the signal which was 
 flashing out its message towards them. Then he 
 gripped his companion's arm and almost carried her 
 back into the sitting-room. 
 
 " Look here," he said firmly, " you can do noth- 
 ing further. You have done your part and done 
 it well. Stay where you are and wait. The rest 
 belongs to me." 
 
 " But what can you do ? " she demanded, her voice 
 shaking with fear. " Meekins will come with him, 
 and Doctor Sarson, unless he is here already. What 
 can you do against them? Meekins can break any 
 ordinary man's back, and Mr. Fentolin will have a 
 revolver." 
 
 Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew 
 her chair closer to it. 
 
 " Never mind about me," he declared cheerfully, 
 *' Mr. Fentolin is too clever to attempt violence, ex- 
 cept as a last resource. He knows that I have
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 299 
 
 friends in London who would need some explanation 
 of my disappearance. Stay here and wait." 
 
 She recognised the note of authority in his tone, 
 and she bowed her head. Then she looked up at 
 him; she was a changed woman. 
 
 " Perhaps I have done ill to drag you into our 
 troubles, Mr. Hamel," she said, " and yet, I believe 
 in you. I believe that you really care for Esther. 
 If you can he.lp us now, it will be for your happiness, 
 too. You are a man. God bless you ! " 
 
 Hamel groped his way round the side of the Tower 
 and took up a position at the extreme corner of the 
 landward side of the building, within a yard of the 
 closed doors. The light far out upon the left was 
 still gleaming brightly, but two of the others in a 
 line with it had disappeared. He flattened himself 
 against the wall and waited, listening intently, his 
 eyes straining through the darkness. Yet they were 
 almost upon him before he had the slightest indica- 
 tion of their presence. A single gleam of light in 
 the path, come and gone like a flash, the gleam of an 
 electric torch directed momentarily towards the road, 
 was his first indication that they were near. A mo- 
 ment or two later he heard the strange click, click 
 of the little engine attached to Mr. Fentolin's chair. 
 Hamel set his teeth and stepped a few inches further 
 back. The darkness was so intense that they were 
 actually within a yard or so of him before he could 
 even dimly discern their shapes. There were three 
 of them Mr. Fentolin in his chair, Doctor Sarson, 
 and Meekins. They paused for a moment while the 
 latter produced a key. Hamel distinctly heard a 
 slow, soft whisper from Doctor Sarson.
 
 300 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Shall I go round to the front and see that he is 
 in bed?" 
 
 " No need," Mr. Fentolin replied calmly. " It is 
 nearly four o'clock. Better not to risk the sound of 
 your footsteps upon the pebbles. Now ! " 
 
 The door swung noiselessly open. The darkness 
 was so complete that even though Hamel could have 
 touched them with an outstretched hand, their shapes 
 were invisible. Hamel, who had formed no definite 
 plans, had no time to hesitate. As the last one dis- 
 appeared through the door, he, too, slipped in. He 
 turned abruptly to the left and, holding his breath, 
 stood against the wall. The door closed behind 
 them. The gleam of the electric light flashed across 
 the stone floor and rested for a moment upon a trap- 
 door, which Meekins had already stooped to lift. 
 It fell back noiselessly upon rubber studs, and Mee- 
 kins immediately slipped through it a ladder, on 
 either side of which was a grooved stretch of board, 
 evidently fashioned to allow Mr. Fentolin's carriage 
 to pass down. Hamel held his breath. The moment 
 for him was critical. If the light flashed once in his 
 direction, he must be discovered. Both Meekins and 
 Doctor Sarson, however, were intent upon the task 
 of steering Mr. Fentolin's little carriage down be- 
 low. They placed the wheels in the two grooves, 
 and Meekins secured the carriage with a rope which 
 he let run through his fingers. As soon as the little 
 vehicle had apparently reached the bottom, he 
 turned, thrust the electric torch in his pocket, and 
 stepped lightly down the ladder. Doctor Sarson 
 followed his example. They disappeared in perfect 
 silence and left the door open. Presently a gleam
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 301 
 
 of light came travelling up, from which Hamel knew 
 that they had lit a lamp below. Very softly he crept 
 across the floor, threw himself upon his stomach and 
 peered down. Below him was a room, or rather a 
 cellar, parts of which seemed to have been cut out 
 of the solid rock. Immediately underneath was a 
 plain iron bedstead, on which was lying stretched the 
 figure of a man. In those first few moments Hamel 
 failed altogether to recognise Mr. Dunster. He was 
 thin and white, and he seemed to have shrunken ; his 
 face, with its coarse growth of beard, seemed like the 
 face of ah old man. Yet the eyes were open, eyes 
 dull and heavy as though with pain. So far no word 
 had been spoken, but at that moment Mr. Fentolin 
 broke the silence. 
 
 " My dear guest," he said, " I bring you our most 
 sincere apologies. It has gone very much against 
 the grain, I can assure you, to have neglected you 
 for so long a time. It is entirely the fault of the 
 very troublesome young man who occupies the other 
 portion of this building. In the daytime his pres- 
 ence makes it exceedingly difficult for us to offer you 
 those little attentions which you might naturally ex- 
 pect." 
 
 The man upon the bed neither moved nor changed 
 his position in any way. Nor did he speak. All 
 power of initiative seemed to have deserted him. 
 He lay quite still, his eyes fixed upon Mr. Fentolin. 
 
 " There comes a time," the latter continued, " when 
 every one of us is confronted with what might be de- 
 scribed as the crisis of our lives. Yours has come, 
 my guest, at precisely this moment. It is, if my 
 watch tells me the truth, five and twenty minutes to
 
 302 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 four. It is the last day of April. The year you 
 know. You have exactly one minute to decide 
 whether you will live a short time longer, or whether 
 you will on this last day of April, and before 
 say, a quarter to four, make that little journey 
 the nature of which you and I have discussed more 
 than once." 
 
 Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor 
 any reply. Mr. Fentolin sighed and beckoned to 
 Doctor Sarson. 
 
 " I am afraid," he whispered, " that that wonder- 
 ful drug of yours, Doctor, has been even a little too 
 far-reaching in its results. It has kept our friend 
 so quiet that he has lost even the power of speech, 
 perhaps even the desire to speak. A little restora- 
 tive, I think just a few drops." 
 
 Doctor Sarson nodded silently. He drew from 
 his pocket a little phial and poured into a wine-glass 
 which stood on a table by the side of the bed, half a 
 dozen drops of some ruby-coloured liquid, to which 
 he added a tablespoonful of water. Then he leaned 
 once more over the bed and poured the contents of 
 the glass between the lips of the semi-conscious man. 
 
 " Give him two minutes," he said calmly. " He 
 will be able to speak then." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin nodded and leaned back in his chair. 
 He glanced around the room a little critically. 
 There was a thick carpet upon the floor, a sofa piled 
 with cushions in one corner, and several other arti- 
 cles of furniture. The walls, however, were uncov- 
 ered and were stained with damp. A great pink fun- 
 gus stood out within a few inches of the bed, a grim 
 mixture of exquisite colouring and loathsome imper-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 303 
 
 fections. The atmosphere was fetid. Meekins sud- 
 denly struck a match and lit some grains of powder 
 in a saucer. A curious odour of incense stole through 
 the place. Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. 
 
 " That is better," he declared. " Really, the at- 
 mosphere here is positively unpleasant. I am 
 ashamed to think that our guest has had to put up 
 with it so long. And yet," he went on, " I think we 
 must call it his own fault. I trust that he will no 
 longer be obstinate." 
 
 The effect of the restorative began to show itself. 
 The man on the bed moved restlessly. His eyes were 
 no longer altogether expressionless. He was staring 
 at Mr. Fentolin as one looks at some horrible vision. 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled pleasantly. 
 
 " Now you are looking more like your old self, 
 my dear Mr. Dunster," he remarked. " I don't 
 think that I need repeat what I said when I first 
 came, need I? You have just to utter that one word, 
 and your little visit to us will be at an end." 
 
 The man looked around at all of them. He raised 
 himself a little on his elbow. For the first time, 
 Hamel, crouching above, recognised any likeness to 
 Mr. John P. Dunster. 
 
 " I'll see you in hell first ! " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's face momentarily darkened. He 
 moved a little nearer to the man upon the bed. 
 
 " Dunster," he said, " I am in grim earnest. 
 Never mind arguments. Never mind why I am on 
 the other side. They are restless about you in 
 America. Unless I can cable that word to-morrow 
 morning, they'll communicate direct with The Hague, 
 and I shall have had my trouble for nothing. It is
 
 304 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 not my custom to put up with failure. Therefore, 
 let me tell you that no single one of my threats has 
 been exaggerated. My patience has reached its 
 breaking point. Give me that word, or before four 
 o'clock strikes, you will find yourself in a new cham- 
 ber, among the corpses of those misguided fisher- 
 men, mariners of ancient days, and a few others. 
 It's only a matter of fifty yards out to the great sea 
 pit below the Dagger Rocks I've spoken to you 
 about it before, haven't I? So surely as I speak to 
 you of it at this moment " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's speech came to an abrupt termina- 
 tion. A convulsive movement of Meekins', an ex- 
 pression of blank amazement on the part of Doctor 
 Sarson, had suddenly checked the words upon his 
 lips. He turned his head quickly in the direction 
 towards which they had been gazing, towards which 
 in fact, at that moment, Meekins, with a low cry, had 
 made a fruitless spring. The ladder down which 
 they had descended was slowly disappearing. Mee- 
 kins, with a jump, missed the last rung by only a few 
 inches. Some unseen hand was drawing it up. Al- 
 ready the last few feet were vanishing in mid-air. 
 Mr. Fentolin sat quite quiet and still. He looked 
 through the trap-door and saw Hamel. 
 
 " Most ingenious and, I must confess, most suc- 
 cessful, my young friend ! " he exclaimed pleasantly. 
 " When you have made the ladder quite secure, per- 
 haps you will be so good as to discuss this little mat- 
 ter with us? " 
 
 There was no immediate reply. The eyes of all 
 four men were turned now upon that empty space 
 through which the ladder had finally disappeared.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 305 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's fingers disappeared within the pocket 
 of his coat. Something very bright was glistening 
 in his hand when he withdrew it. 
 
 " Come and parley with us, Mr. Hamel," he 
 begged. " You will not find us unreasonable." 
 
 Hamel's voice came back in reply, but Hamel him- 
 self kept well away from the opening. 
 
 " The conditions," he said, " are unpropitious. 
 A little time for reflection will do you no harm." 
 
 The trap-doors were suddenly closed. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin's face, as he looked up, became diabolic. 
 
 " We are trapped ! " he muttered ; " caught like 
 rats in a hole 1 "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 A gleam of day was in the sky as Hamel, with Mrs. 
 Fentolin by his side, passed along the path which led 
 from the Tower to St. David's Hall. Lights were 
 still burning from its windows ; the outline of the 
 building itself was faintly defined against the sky. 
 Behind him, across the sea, was that one straight line 
 of grey merging into silver. The rain had ceased 
 and the wind had dropped. On either side of them 
 stretched the brimming creeks. 
 
 " Can we get into the house without waking any 
 one? " he asked. 
 
 " Quite easily," she assured him. " The front 
 door is never barred." 
 
 She walked by his side, swiftly and with surpris- 
 ing vigour. In the still, grey light, her face was more 
 ghastly than ever, but there was a new firmness 
 about her mouth, a new decision in her tone. They 
 reached the Hall without further speech, and she led 
 the way to a small door on the eastern side, through 
 which they entered noiselessly and passed along a lit- 
 tle passage out into the hall. A couple of lights 
 were still burning. The place seemed full of shad- 
 ows. 
 
 "What are you going to do now?" she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " I want to ring up London on the telephone," he 
 replied. " I know that there is a detective either ip.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 307 
 
 the neighbourhood or on his way here, but I shall tell 
 my friend that he had better come down himself." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I am going to release Esther," she said. " She 
 is locked in her room. The telephone is in the study. 
 I will come down there to you." 
 
 She passed silently up the broad staircase. Hamel 
 groped his way across the hall into the library. He 
 turned on the small electric reading-lamp and drew 
 up a chair to the side of the telephone. Even as he 
 lifted the receiver to his ear, he looked around him 
 half apprehensively. It seemed as though every mo- 
 ment he would hear the click of Mr. Fentolin's chair. 
 
 He got the exchange at Norwich without difficulty, 
 and a few minutes later a sleepy reply came from the 
 number he had rung up in London. It was Kins- 
 ley's servant who answered. 
 
 " I want to .speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon 
 most important business," Hamel announced. 
 
 " Very sorry, sir," the man replied. " Mr. Kins- 
 ley left town last night for the country." 
 
 " Where has he gone? " Hamel demanded quickly. 
 " You can tell me. You know who I am ; I am Mr. 
 Hamel." 
 
 " Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with sev- 
 eral other gentlemen." 
 
 "Is that Bullen?" Hamel asked. 
 
 The man admitted the fact. 
 
 " Can you tell me if any of the people with whom 
 Mr. Kinsley left London were connected with the 
 police ? " he inquired. 
 
 The man hesitated. 
 
 " I believe so, sir," he admitted. " The gentlemen
 
 3 o8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 started in a motor-car and were going to drive all 
 night." 
 
 Hamel laid down the receiver. At any rate, he 
 would not be left long with this responsibility upon 
 him. He walked out into the hall. The house was 
 still wrapped in deep silence. Then, from somewhere 
 above him, coming down the stairs, he heard the rus- 
 tle of a woman's gown. He looked up, and saw Miss 
 Price, fully dressed, coming slowly towards him. 
 She held up her finger and led the way back into the 
 library. She was dressed as neatly as ever, but there 
 was a queer light in her eyes. 
 
 " I have seen Mrs. Seymour Fentolin," she said. 
 " She tells me that you have left Mr. Fentolin and the 
 others in the subterranean room of the Tower." 
 
 Hamel nodded. 
 
 " They have Dunster down there," he told her. 
 " I followed them in ; it seemed the best thing to do. 
 I have a friend from London who is on his way down 
 here now with some detective officers, to enquire into 
 the matter of Dunster's disappearance." 
 
 " Are you going to leave them where they are until 
 these people arrive?" she asked. 
 
 " I think so," he replied, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion. " I don't seem to have had time to consider 
 even what to do. The opportunity came, and I em- 
 braced it. There they are, and they won't dare to 
 do any further harm to Dunster now. Mrs. Fentolin 
 was down in my room, and I thought it best to bring 
 her back first before I even parleyed with them 
 again." 
 
 " You must be careful," she advised slowly. 
 * The man Dunster has been drugged, he has lost
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 309 
 
 some of his will ; he may have lost some of his mental 
 balance. Mr. Fentolin is clever. He will find a 
 dozen ways to wriggle out of any charge that can be 
 brought against him. You know what he has really 
 done?" 
 
 " I can guess." 
 
 " He has kept back a document signed by the 
 twelve men in America who control the whole of Wall 
 Street, who control practically the money markets 
 of the world. That document is a warning to Ger- 
 many that they will have no war against England. 
 Owing to Mr. Fentolin, it has not been delivered, and 
 the Conference is sitting now. War may be declared 
 at any moment." 
 
 " But as a matter of common sense," Hamel asked, 
 " why does Mr. Fentolin desire war? " 
 
 " You do not understand Mr. Fentolin," she told 
 him quietly. " He is not like other men. There are 
 some who live almost entirely for the sake of making 
 others happy, who find joy in seeing people content 
 and satisfied. Mr. Fentolin is the reverse of this. 
 He has but one craving in life : to see pain in others. 
 To see a human being suffer is to him a debauch of 
 happiness. A war which laid this country waste 
 would fill him with a delight which you could never 
 understand. There are no normal human beings like 
 this. It is a disease in the man; a disease which came 
 upon him after his accident." 
 
 " Yet you have all been his slaves," Hamel said 
 curiously. 
 
 " We have all been his slaves," she admitted, " for 
 different reasons. Before his accident came, Mr. 
 Fentolin was my master and the only man in the
 
 3 io THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 world for me. After his accident, I think my feel* 
 ings for him, if anything, grew stronger. I became 
 his slave. I sold my conscience, my self-respect, 
 everything in life worth having, to bring a smile to his 
 lips, to help him through a single moment of his mis- 
 ery. And just lately the reaction has come. He 
 has played with me just as he would sit and pull the 
 legs out of a spider to watch its agony. I have been 
 one of his favourite amusements. And even now, if 
 he came into this room I think that I should be help- 
 less. I should probably fall at his feet and pray for 
 forgiveness." 
 
 Hamel looked at her wonderingly. 
 
 " I have come down to warn you," she went on. 
 " It is possible that this is the beginning of the end, 
 that his wonderful fortune will desert him, that his 
 star has gone down. But remember that he has the 
 brains and courage of genius. You think that you 
 have him in a trap. Don't be surprised, when you 
 go back, to find that he has turned the tables upon 
 you." 
 
 " Impossible ! " Hamel declared. " I looked all 
 round the place. There isn't a window or opening 
 anywhere. The trap-door is in the middle of the 
 ceiling and it is fifteen feet from the floor. It shuts 
 with a spring." 
 
 " It may be as you say," she observed. " It may 
 be that he is safe. Remember, though, if you go near 
 him, that he is desperate." 
 
 " Do you know where Miss Fentolin is ? " he inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " She is with her mother," the woman replied, im- 
 patiently. " She is coming down. Tell me, what
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 311 
 
 are you going to do with Mr. Fentolin? Nothing 
 else matters." 
 
 " I have a friend," Hamel answered, " who will see 
 to that." 
 
 " If you are relying upon the law," she said, " I 
 think you will find that the law cannot touch him. 
 Mr. Dunster was brought to the house in a perfectly 
 natural manner. He was certainly injured, and in- 
 jured in a railway accident. Doctor Sarson is a 
 fully qualified surgeon, and he will declare that Mr. 
 Dunster was unfit to travel. If necessary, they will 
 have destroyed the man's intelligence. If you think 
 that you have him broken, let me warn you that you 
 may be disappointed. Let me, if I may, give you 
 one word of advice." 
 
 " Please do," Hamel begged. 
 
 She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free 
 from any sort of emotion. 
 
 " You have taken up some sort of position here," 
 she continued, " as a friend of Mrs. Seymour Fento- 
 lin, a friend of the family. Don't let them come back 
 under the yoke. You know the secret of their bond- 
 age? " 
 
 " I know it," he admitted. 
 
 " They have been his slaves because their absolute 
 obedience to his will was one of the conditions of his 
 secrecy. He has drawn the cords too tight. Better 
 let the truth be known, if needs be, than have their 
 three lives broken. Don't let them go back under his 
 governance. For me, I cannot tell. If he comes 
 back, as he will come back, I may become his slave 
 again, but let them break away. Listen that is 
 Mrs. Fentolin."
 
 3 i2 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 She left him. Hamel followed her out into the 
 hall. Esther and her mother were already at the foot 
 of the stairs. He drew them into the study. Esther 
 gave him her hands, but she was trembling in every 
 limb. 
 
 " I am terrified ! " she whispered. " Every mo- 
 ment I think I can hear the click of that awful car- 
 riage. He will come back; I am sure he will come 
 back ! " 
 
 " He may," Hamel answered sturdily, " but never 
 to make you people his slaves again. You have done 
 enough. You have earned your freedom." 
 
 " I agree," Mrs. Fentolin said firmly. " We have 
 gone on from sacrifice to sacrifice, until it has become 
 a habit with us to consider him the master of our 
 bodies and our souls. To-day, Esther, we have 
 reached the breaking point. Not even for the sake 
 of that message from the other side of the grave, not 
 even to preserve his honour and his memory, can we 
 do more." 
 
 Hamel held up his finger. He opened the French 
 windows, and they followed him out on to the ter- 
 race. The grey dawn had broken now over the sea. 
 There were gleams of fitful sunshine on the marshes. 
 Some distance away a large motor-car was coming 
 rapidly along the road.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster, lying flat upon his little bed, 
 watched with dilated eyes the disappearance of the 
 ladder. Then he laughed. It was a queer sound 
 broken, spasmodic, devoid of any of the ordinary ele- 
 ments of humor and yet it was a laugh. Mr. Fen- 
 tolin turned his head towards his prisoner and nodded 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " What a constitution, my friend ! " he exclaimed, 
 without any trace of disturbance in his voice. " And 
 what a sense of humour ! Strange that a trifling cir- 
 cumstance like this should affect it. Meekins, burn 
 some more of the powder. The atmosphere down 
 here may be salubrious, but I am unaccustomed to it." 
 
 " Perhaps," Mr. Dunster said in a hollow tone, 
 " you will have some opportunity now of discovering 
 with me what it is like." 
 
 " That, too, is just possible," Mr. Fentolin admit- 
 ted, blowing out a little volume of smoke from a 
 cigarette which he had just lit, " but one never knows. 
 We have friends, and our position, although, I must 
 admit, a little ridiculous, is easily remedied. But 
 how that mischief-making Mr. Hamel could have 
 found his way into the boat-house does, I must con- 
 fess, perplex me." 
 
 " He must have been hanging around and followed 
 us in when we came," Meekins muttered. " Some- 
 how, I fancied I felt some one near."
 
 3 i4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Our young friend," Mr. Fentolin continued, 
 " has, without doubt, an obvious turn of mind. He 
 will send for his acquaintance in the Foreign Office; 
 they will haul out Mr. Dunster here, and he will have 
 a belated opportunity of delivering his message at 
 The Hague." 
 
 " You aren't going to murder me first, then ? " Mr. 
 Dunster grunted. 
 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled at him benignly. 
 
 " My dear and valued guest," he protested, " why 
 so forbidding an idea? Let me assure you from the 
 bottom of my heart that any bodily harm to you is 
 the most unlikely thing in the world. You see, 
 though you might not think it," he went on, " I love 
 life. That is why I keep a doctor always by my side. 
 That is why I insist upon his making a complete 
 study of my constitution and treating me in every 
 respect as though I were indeed an invalid. I am 
 really only fifty-nine years old. It is my intention 
 to live until I am eighty-nine. An offence against 
 the law of the nature you indicate might interfere 
 materially with my intentions." 
 
 Mr. Dunster struggled for a moment for breath. 
 " Look here," he said, " that's all right, but do 
 you suppose you won't be punished for what you've 
 done to me? You laid a deliberate plot to bring me 
 to St. David's Hall ; you've kept me locked up, dosed 
 me with drugs, brought me down here at the dead 
 of night, kept me a prisoner in a dungeon. Do you 
 think you can do that for nothing? Do you think 
 you won't have to suffer for it ? " 
 Mr. Fentolin smiled. 
 " My dear Mr. Dunster," he reminded him, " you
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 315 
 
 were in a railway accident, you know ; there is no pos- 
 sible doubt about that. And the wound in your head 
 is still there, in a very dangerous place. Men who 
 have been in railway accidents, and who have a gaping 
 wound very close to their brain, are subject to delu- 
 sions. I have simply done my best to play the Good 
 Samaritan. Your clothes and papers are all un- 
 touched. If my eminent physician had pronounced 
 you ready to travel a week ago, you would certainly 
 have been allowed to depart a week ago. Any inter- 
 ference in your movements has been entirely in the 
 interests of your health." 
 
 Mr. Dunster tried to sit up but found himself un- 
 able. 
 
 " So you think they won't believe my story, eh? " 
 he muttered. " Well, we shall see." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin thoughtfully contemplated the burn- 
 ing end of his cigarette for a moment. 
 
 " If I believed," he said, " that there was any 
 chance of your statements being accepted, I am 
 afraid I should be compelled, in all our interests, to 
 ask Doctor Sarson to pursue just a step further that 
 experiment into the anatomy of your brain with 
 which he has already trifled." 
 
 Mr. Dunster's face was suddenly ghastly. His re- 
 serve of strength seemed to ebb away. The memory 
 of some horrible moment seemed to hold him in its 
 clutches. 
 
 " For God's sake, leave me alone ! " he moaned. 
 " Let me get away, that's all ; let me crawl away ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " Mr. Fentolin murmured. " That sounds 
 much more reasonable. When you talk like that, my 
 friend, I feel indeed that there is hope for you. Let
 
 3 i6 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 us abandon this subject for the present. Have you 
 solved the puzzle jet? " he asked Meekins. 
 
 Meekins was standing below the closed trap-door. 
 He had already dragged up a wooden case underneath 
 and was piling it with various articles of furniture. 
 
 " Not yet, sir," he replied. " When I have made 
 this steadier, I am just going to see what pressure I 
 can bring to bear on the trap-door." , 
 
 " I heard the bolts go," Doctor Sarson remarked 
 uneasily. 
 
 " In that case," Mr. Fentolin declared, " it will in- 
 deed be an interesting test of our friend Meekins' 
 boasted strength. Meekins holds his place a very 
 desirable placej too chiefly for two reasons : first 
 his discretion and secondly his muscles. He has 
 never before had a real opportunity of testing the 
 latter. We shall see." 
 
 Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bed- 
 side. He looked down upon his patient. Mr. Dun- 
 ster shivered. 
 
 " I am not sure, sir," he said very softly, " that 
 Mr. Dunster, in his present state of mind, is a very 
 safe person to be allowed his freedom. It is true that 
 we have kept him here for his own sake, because of 
 his fits of mental wandering. Our statements, how- 
 erer, may bo doubted. An apparent return to san- 
 ity on his part may lend colour to his accusations, es- 
 pecially if permanent. Perhaps it would be as well 
 to pursue that investigation a shade further. A 
 touch more to the left and I do not think that Mr. 
 Dunster will remember much in this world likely to 
 affect us." 
 
 Mr. Dunster's face was like marble. There were
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 317 
 
 beads of perspiration upon his forehead, his eyes were 
 filled with reminiscent horror. Mr. Fentolin bent 
 over him with genuine interest. 
 
 " What a picture he would make ! " he murmured. 
 " What a drama ! Do you know, I am half inclined 
 to agree with you, Sarson. The only trouble is that 
 you have not your instruments here." 
 
 " I could improvise something that would do the 
 trick," the doctor said thoughtfully. " It realty 
 isn't a complicated affair. It seems to me that his 
 story may gain credence from the very fact of our 
 being discovered in this extraordinary place. To 
 have moved him here was a mistake, sir." 
 
 " Perhaps so," Mr. Fentolin admitted, with a sigh. 
 " It was our young friend Mr. Hamel who was re- 
 sponsible for it. I fancied him arriving with a 
 search warrant at any moment. We will bear in 
 mind your suggestion for a few minutes. Let us 
 watch Meekins. This promises to be interesting." 
 
 By dint of piling together all the furniture in the 
 place, the man was now able to reach the trap-door. 
 He pressed upon it vigorously without even bending 
 the wood. Mr. Fentolin smiled pleasantly. 
 
 " Meekins," he said, " look at me." 
 
 The man turned and faced his master. Plis aspect 
 of dogged civility had never been more apparent. 
 
 " Now listen," Mr. Fentolin went on. " I want to 
 remind you of certain things, Meekins. We are 
 among friends here no secrecy, you understand, or 
 anything of that sort. You need not be afraid! 
 You know how you came to me? You remember that 
 little affair of Anna Jayes in Hartlcpool? " 
 
 The face of the man was filled with terror. He be-
 
 3 i8 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 gan to tremble where he stood. Mr. Fentolin played 
 for a moment with his collar, as though he found it 
 tight. . 
 
 " Such a chance it was, my dear Meekins," Mr. 
 Fentolin continued cheerfully, " which brought me 
 that little scrap of knowledge concerning you. It 
 has bought me through all these years a good deal of 
 faithful service. I am not ungrateful, believe me. I 
 intend to retain you for my body-servant and to keep 
 my lips sealed, for a great many years to come. 
 Now remember what I have said. When we leave this 
 place, that little episode will steal back into a far 
 corner of my mind. I shall, in short, forget it. If 
 we are caught here and inconvenience follows, well, 
 I cannot say. Do your best, Meekins. Do a little 
 better than your best. You have the reputation of 
 being a strong man. Let us see you justify it." 
 
 The man took a long breath and returned to his 
 task. His shoulders and arms were upon the door. 
 He began to strain. He grew red in the face; the 
 veins across his forehead stood out, blue, like tightly- 
 drawn string. His complexion became purple. 
 Through his open mouth his breath came in short 
 pants. With every muscle of his body and neck he 
 strained and strained. The woodwork gave a little, 
 but it never even cracked. With a sob he suddenly 
 almost collapsed. Mr. Fentolin looked at him, 
 frowning. 
 
 " Very good very good, Meekins," he said, " but 
 not quite good enough. You are a trifle out of prac- 
 tice, perhaps. Take your breath, take time. Re- 
 member that you have another chance. I am not an- 
 gry with you, Meekins. I know there are many en-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 319 
 
 terprises upon which one does not succeed the first 
 time. Get your breath ; there is no hurry. Next 
 time you try, see that you succeed. It is very im- 
 portant, Meekins, for you as well as for us, that you 
 succeed." 
 
 The man turned doggedly back to his task. The 
 eyes of the three men watched him Mr. Dunster 
 on the bed; Doctor Sarson, pale and gloomy, with 
 something of fear in his dark eyes ; and Mr. Fentolin 
 himself, whose expression seemed to be one of purely 
 benevolent and encouraging interest. Once more the 
 face of the man became almost unrecognisable. 
 There was a great crack, the trap-door had shifted. 
 Meekins, with a little cry, reeled and sank backwards. 
 Mr. Fentolin clapped his hands lightly. 
 
 " Really, Meekins," he declared, " I do not know 
 when I have enjoyed any performance so much. I 
 feel as if I were back in the days of the Roman gladi- 
 ators. I can see that you mean to succeed. You 
 will succeed. You do not mean to end your days 
 amid objectionable surroundings." 
 
 With the air of a man temporarily mad, Meekins 
 went back to his task. He was sobbing to himself 
 now. His clothes had burst away from him. Sud- 
 denly there was a crash, the hinges of the trap-door 
 had parted. With the blood streaming from a 
 wound in his forehead, Meekins staggered back to his 
 feet. Mr. Fentolin nodded. 
 
 " Excellent ! " he pronounced. " Really excellent. 
 With a little assistance from our friend Meekins, you, 
 I am sure, Sarson, will now be able to climb up and 
 let down the steps." 
 
 Doctor Sarson stood by Mr. Fentolin's chair, and
 
 3 20 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 together they looked up through the fragments of the 
 trap-door. Meekins was still breathing heavily. 
 Suddenly they heard the sound of a sharp report, as 
 of a door above being slammed. 
 
 " Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the 
 trap-door," Meekins muttered. " I heard them mov- 
 ing about." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin frowned. 
 
 " Then let us hurry," he said. " Sarson, what 
 about your patient? " 
 
 Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching 
 them. The doctor went over to the bedside and felt 
 his pulse and head. 
 
 " He will do for twelve hours," he pronounced. 
 " If you think that other little operation " 
 
 He broke off and looked at Mr. Fentolin mean- 
 ingly. The man on the bed shrank back, his eyes 
 lit with horror. Mr. Fentolin smiled pleasantly. 
 
 " I fear," he said, " that we must not stay for that 
 just now. A little later on, perhaps, if it becomes 
 necessary. Let us first attend to the business on 
 hand." 
 
 Meekins once more clambered on to the little heap 
 of furniture. The doctor stood by his side for a mo- 
 ment. Then, with an effort, he was hoisted up until 
 he could catch hold of the floor of the outhouse. 
 Meekins gave one push, and he disappeared. 
 
 " Any one up there ? " Mr. Fentolin enquired, a 
 shade of anxiety in his tone. 
 
 " No one," the doctor reported. 
 . " Has anything been disturbed ? " 
 
 Doctor Sarson was some little time before he re- 
 plied.
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 321 
 
 " Yes," he said, " some one seems to have been rum- 
 maging about." 
 
 " Send down the steps quickly," Mr. Fentolin or- 
 dered. " I am beginning to find the atmosphere here 
 unpleasant." 
 
 There was a brief silence. Then they heard the 
 sound of the ladder being dragged across the floor, 
 and a moment or two later it was carefully lowered 
 and placed in position. Mr. Fentolin passed the 
 rope through the front of his carriage and was drawn 
 up. From his bed Mr. Dunster watched them go. 
 It was hard to tell whether he was relieved or disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " Who has been in here? " Mr. Fentolin demanded, 
 as he looked around the place. 
 
 There was no reply. A grey twilight was strug- 
 gling now through the high, dust-covered windows. 
 Meekins, who had gone on towards the door, suddenly 
 called out: 
 
 " Some one has taken away the key ! The door is 
 locked on the other side ! " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin's frown was malign even for him. 
 
 " Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose," he mut- 
 tered. " Another little debt we shall owe him ! Try 
 the other door." 
 
 Meekins moved towards the partition. Suddenly 
 he paused. Mr. Fentolin's hand was outstretched; 
 he, too, was listening. Above the low thunder of the 
 sea came another sound, a sound which at that mo- 
 ment they none of them probably understood. There 
 was the steady crashing of feet upon the pebbles, a 
 low murmur of voices. Mr. Fentolin for the first 
 time showed symptoms of fear.
 
 322 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Try the other door quickly," he directed. 
 
 Meekins came back, shaking his head. Outside, 
 the noise seemed to be increasing. The door was 
 suddenly thrown open. Hannah Cox stood outside 
 in her plain black dress, her hair wind-tossed, her eyes 
 aflame. She held the key in her fingers, and she 
 looked in upon them. Her lips seemed to move, but 
 she said nothing. 
 
 " My good woman," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, 
 frowning, " are you the person who removed that 
 key?" 
 
 She laid her hand upon his chair. She took no no- 
 tice of the other two. 
 
 " Come," she said, " there is something here I want 
 you to listen to. Come ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Mr. Fentolin, arrived outside on the stone front of 
 the boat-house, pointed the wheel of his chair towards 
 the Hall. Hannah Cox, who kept by his side, how- 
 ever, drew it gently towards the beach. 
 
 ** Down here," she directed softly. " Bring your 
 chair down the plank-way, close to the water's edge." 
 
 " My good woman," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed furi- 
 ously, " I am not in the humour for this sort of thing ! 
 Lock up, Sarson, at once ; I am in a hurry to get 
 back." 
 
 " But you will come just this little way," she con- 
 tinued, speaking without any change of tone. " You 
 see, the others are waiting, too. I have been down 
 to the village and fetched them up." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin followed her outstretched finger and 
 gave a sudden start. Standing at the edge of the sea 
 were a dozen or twenty fishermen. They were all 
 muttering together and looking at the top of the 
 boat-house. As he realised the direction of their 
 gaze, Mr. Fentolin's face underwent a strange trans- 
 formation. He seemed to shrink in his chair. He 
 was ghastly pale even to the lips. Slowly he turned 
 his head. From a place in the roof of the boat-house 
 a tall support had appeared. On the top was a 
 swinging globe. 
 
 " What have you to do with that? " he asked in a 
 low tone.
 
 3 2 4 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " I found it," she answered. " I felt that it was 
 there. I have brought them up with me to see it. I 
 think that they want to ask you some questions. 
 But first, come and listen." 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shook her off. He looked around for 
 Meekins. 
 
 " Meekins, stand by my chair," he ordered sharply. 
 " Turn round ; I wish to go to the Hall. Drive this 
 woman away." 
 
 Meekins came hurrying up, but almost at the same 
 moment half a dozen of the brown- jerseyed fishermen 
 detached themselves from the others. They formed 
 a little bodyguard around the bath-chair. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this? " Mr. Fentolin de- 
 manded, his voice shrill with anger. " Didn't you 
 hear what I said? This woman annoys me. Send 
 her away." 
 
 Not one of the fishermen answered a word or made 
 the slightest movement to obey him. One of them, a 
 grey-bearded veteran, drew the chair a little further 
 down the planked way across the pebbles. Hannah 
 Cox kept close to its side. They came to a standstill 
 only a few yards from where the waves were break- 
 ing. She lifted her hand. 
 
 " Listen ! " she cried. " Listen ! " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin turned helplessly around. The little 
 group of fishermen had closed in upon Sarson and 
 Meekins. The woman's hand was upon his shoulder ; 
 she pointed seaward to where a hissing line of white 
 foam marked the spot where the topmost of the rocks 
 were visible. 
 
 " You wondered why I have spent so much of my 
 time out here," she said quietly. " Now you will
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 325 
 
 know. If you listen as I am listening, as I have lis- 
 tened for so many weary hours, so many weary years, 
 you will hear them calling to me, David and John and 
 Stephen. ' The light ! ' Do you hear what they are 
 crying? 'The light! Fentolin's light!' Look!" 
 
 She forced him to look once more at the top of the 
 boat-house. 
 
 " They were right ! " she proclaimed, her voice 
 gaining in strength and intensity. " They were 
 neither drunk nor reckless. They steered as straight 
 as human hand could guide a tiller, for Fentolin's 
 light ! And there they are, calling and calling at the 
 bottom of the sea my three boys and my man. 
 Do you know for whom they call? " 
 
 Mr. Fentolin shrank back in his chair. 
 
 " Take this woman away ! " he ordered the fisher- 
 men. "Do you hear? Take her away; she is 
 mad!" 
 
 They looked towards him, but not one of them 
 moved. Mr. Fentolin raised his whistle to his lips, 
 and blew it. 
 
 " Meekins ! " he cried. " Where are you, Mee- 
 kins?" 
 
 He turned his head and saw at once that Meekins 
 was powerless. Five or six of the fishermen had 
 gathered around him. There were at least thirty 
 of them about, sinewy, powerful men. The only 
 person who moved towards Mr. Fentolin's carriage 
 Was Jacob, the coast guardsman. 
 
 " Mr. Fentolin, sir," he said, " the lads have got 
 your bully safe. It's a year and more that Hannah 
 Cox has been about the village with some story about 
 two lights on a stormy night. It's true what she
 
 326 THE VAiSTISHED MESSENGER 
 
 says that her man and boys lie drowned. There's 
 William Green, besides, and a nephew of my own 
 John Kallender. And Philip Green he was saved. 
 He swore by all that was holy that he steered straight 
 for the light when his boat struck, and that as he 
 swam for shore, five minutes later, he saw the light 
 reappear in another place. It's a strange story. 
 What have you to say, sir, about that? " 
 
 He pointed straight to the wire-encircled globe 
 which towered on its slender support above the boat- 
 house. Mr. Fentolin looked at it and looked back 
 at the coast guardsman. The brain of a Machia- 
 'velli could scarcely have invented a plausible re- 
 
 " The light was never lit there," he said. " It was 
 simply to help me in some electrical experiments." 
 
 Then, for the first time in their lives, those who 
 were looking on saw Mr. Fentolin apart from his 
 carriage. Without any haste but with amazing 
 strength, Hannah Cox leaned over, and, with her 
 arms around his middle, lifted him sheer up into the 
 air. She carried him, clasped in her arms, a weird, 
 struggling object, to the clumsy boat that lay always 
 at the top of the beach. She dropped him into the 
 bottom, took her seat, and unshipped the oars. For 
 one moment the coast guardsman hesitated ; then he 
 obeyed her look. He gave the boat a push which 
 sent it grinding down the pebbles into the sea. The 
 woman began to work at the oars. Every now and 
 then she looked over her shoulder at that thin line 
 of white surf which they were all the time approach- 
 ing. 
 
 " What are you doing, woman? " Mr. Fentolin de-
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 327 
 
 manded hoarsely. " Listen ! It was an accident 
 that your people were drowned. I'll give you an an- 
 nuity. I'll make you rich for life rich ! Do you 
 understand what that means? " 
 
 " Aye ! " she answered, looking down upon him as 
 he lay doubled up at the bottom of the boat. " I 
 know what it means to be rich better than you, 
 maybe. Not to let the gold and silver pieces fall 
 through your fingers, or to live in a great house and 
 be waited upon by servants who desert you in the 
 hour of need. That isn't being rich. It's rich to 
 feel the touch of the one you love, to see the faces 
 around of those you've given birth to, to move on 
 through the days and nights towards the end, with 
 them around ; not to know the chill loneliness of an 
 empty life. I am a poor woman, Mr. Fentolin, and 
 it's your hand that made me so, and not all the mira- 
 cles that the Bible ever told of can make me rich 
 again." 
 
 " You are a fool ! " he shrieked. " You can buy 
 forgetfulness ! The memory of everything passes." 
 
 " I may be a fool," she retorted grimly, " and you 
 the wise man ; but this day we'll both know the truth." 
 
 There was a little murmur from the shore, where 
 the fishermen stood in a long line. 
 
 " Bring him back, missus," Jacob called out. 
 " You've scared him enough. Bring him back. 
 We'll leave him to the law." 
 
 They were close to the line of surf now ; they had 
 passed it, indeed, a little on the left, and the boat 
 was drifting. She stood up, straight and stern, and 
 her face, as she looked towards the land, was lit with 
 the fire of the prophetess.
 
 328 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 " Aye," she cried, "we'll leave him to the law 
 to the law of God ! " 
 
 Then they saw her stoop down, and once more with 
 that almost superhuman strength which seemed to 
 belong to her for those few moments, she lifted the 
 strange object who lay cowering there, high above 
 her head. From the shore they realised what was 
 going to happen, and a great shout arose. She 
 stood on the side of the boat and jumped, holding 
 her burden tightly in her arms. So they went down 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Half a dozen of the younger fishermen were in the 
 water even before the grim spectacle was ended ; an- 
 other ran for a boat that was moored a little way 
 down the beach. But from the first the search was 
 useless. Only Jacob, who was a person afflicted with 
 many superstitions, wiped the sweat from his fore- 
 head as he leaned over the bow of his boat and looked 
 down into that fathomless space. 
 
 " I heard her singing, her or her wraith," he swore 
 afterwards. " I'll never forget the moment I looked 
 down and down, and the water seemed to grow clearer, 
 and I saw her walking there at the bottom among the 
 rocks, with him over her back, singing as she went, 
 looking everywhere for George and the boys ! " 
 
 But if indeed his eyes were touched with fire at that 
 moment, no one else in the world saw anything more 
 of Miles Fentolin.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 Mr. John P. Dunster removed the cigar from his 
 teeth and gazed at the long white ash with the air of 
 a connoisseur. He was stretched in a long chair, 
 high up in the terraced gardens behind the Hall. 
 At his feet were golden mats of yellow crocuses ; long 
 borders of hyacinths pink and purple; bed.s of 
 violets; a great lilac tree, with patches of blossom 
 here and there forcing their way into a sunlit world. 
 The sea was blue; the sheltered air where they sat 
 was warm and perfumed. Mr. Dunster, who was oc- 
 cupying the position of a favoured guest, was feeling 
 very much at home. 
 
 " There is one thing," he remarked meditatively, 
 " which I can't help thinking about you Britishers. 
 You may deserve it or you may not, but you do have 
 the most almighty luck." 
 
 " Sheer envy," Hamel murmured. " We escape 
 from our tight corners by forethought." 
 
 " Not on your life, sir," Mr. D.unster declared vig- 
 orously. " A year or less ago you got a North Sea 
 scare, and on the strength of a merely honourable un- 
 derstanding with your neighbour, you risk your coun- 
 try's very existence for the sake of adding half a 
 dozen battleships to your North Sea Squadron. The 
 day the last of those battleships passed through the 
 Straits of Gibraltar, this little Conference was plot- 
 ted. I tell you they meant to make history there.
 
 330 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 There was enough for everybody India for Rus- 
 sia, a time-honoured dream, but why not? Alsace- 
 Lorraine and perhaps Egypt, for France; Australia 
 for Japan ; China and South Africa for Germany. 
 Why not? You may laugh at it on paper but I say 
 again why not ? " 
 
 *' It didn't quite come off, sir," Gerald observed. 
 
 " It didn't," Mr. Dunster admitted, " partly ow- 
 ing to you. There were only two things needed: 
 France to consider her own big interests and to ig- 
 nore an entente from which she gains nothing that 
 was not assured to her under the new agreement, and 
 the money. Strange," Mr. Dunster continued, " how 
 people forget that factor, and yet the man who was 
 responsible for The Hague Conference knew it. We 
 in the States are right outside all these little jealous- 
 ies and wrangles that bring Europe, every now and 
 then, right up to the gates of war, but I'm hanged if 
 there is one of you dare pass through those gates 
 without a hand on our money markets. It's a new 
 word in history, that little document, news of which 
 Mr. Gerald here took to The Hague, the word of the 
 money kings of the world. There is something that 
 almost nips your breath in the idea that a dozen men, 
 descended from the Lord knows whom, stopped a 
 war which would have altered the whole face of his- 
 tory." 
 
 " There was never any proof," Hamel remarked, 
 " that France would not have remained staunch 
 to us." 
 
 " Very likely not," Mr. Dunster agreed, " but, on 
 the other hand, your country had never the right to 
 put such a burden upon her honour. Remember that
 
 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 331 
 
 side by side with those other considerations, a great 
 statesman's first duty is to the people over whom he 
 watches, not to study the interests of other lands. 
 However, it's finished. The Hague Conference is 
 broken up. The official organs of the world allude 
 to it, if at all, as an unimportant gathering called 
 together to discuss certain frontier questions with 
 which England had nothing to do. But the memory 
 of it will live. A good cold douche for you people, 
 I should say, and I hope you'll take warning by it. 
 Whatever the attitude of America as a nation may 
 be to these matters, the American people don't want 
 to see the old country in trouble. Gee whiz ! What's 
 that?" 
 
 There was a little cry from all of them. Only 
 Hamel stood without sign of surprise, gazing down- 
 ward with grim, set face. A dull roar, like the boom- 
 ing of a gun, flashes of fire, and a column of smoke 
 and all that was left of St. David's Tower was 
 one tottering wall and a scattered mass of masonry. 
 
 " I had an idea," Hamel said quietly, " that St. 
 David's Tower was going to spoil the landscape for 
 a good many years. My property, you know, and 
 there's the end of it. I am sick of seeing people for 
 the last few days come down and, take photographs 
 of it for every little rag that goes to press." 
 
 Mr. Dunster pointed out to the line of surf beyond. 
 
 " If only some hand," he remarked, " could plant 
 dynamite below that streak of white, so that the sea 
 could disgorge its dead! They tell me there's a 
 Spanish galleon there, and a Dutch warship, besides 
 a score or more of fishing-boats." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin shivered a little. She drew her
 
 332 THE VANISHED MESSENGER 
 
 cloak around her. Gerald, who had been watching 
 her, sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Come," he exclaimed, " we chose the gardens 
 for our last afternoon here, to be out of the way of 
 these places ! We'll go round the hill." 
 
 Mrs. Fentolin shook her head once more. Her 
 face had recovered its serenity. She looked down- 
 ward gravely but with no sign of fear. 
 
 " There is nothing to terrify us there, Gerald," 
 she declared. " The sea has gathered, and the sea 
 will hold its own." 
 
 Hamel held out his hand to Esther. 
 
 ** I have destroyed the only house in the world 
 which I possess," he said. " Come and look for 
 violets with me in the spinney, and let us talk of the 
 houses we are going to build, and the dreams we shall 
 dream in them." 
 
 THE END
 
 A 000135466 1