Читать книгу The Phantom Car - Fred M. White - Страница 4

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As the morning stole away and the pearly mists melted before the caressing touch of the sun, Peggy felt her own ill temper vanishing into nothingness. Perhaps she had been disposed to resent Trevor's air of complete proprietorship, perhaps she had been too quick in reading a wrong interpretation of what he had said. She was conscious, moreover, that she was more deeply interested in this psychic business than she had pretended. There was a romantic, dreamy side to her nature which she shyly hid, almost from herself, but it was there, all the same, and she was always conscious of it.

And there was another matter, a sacred thing of which she spoke but seldom and then with dimmed eyes and bated breath. Because there had been a time when Long Elms and its estate and all the revenues thereto had not belonged to Peggy, but to her only brother, who had been killed in the Great War. He like Trevor Capner, had had a brilliant career in the Air Force, where he had won the Victoria Cross in a never-to-be-forgotten exploit, only to be brought down during the very last week of the war in flames. And though Peggy was but a child at the time and many years had elapsed since, she had never forgotten her brother Victor, to whom she had been devoted and who had represented to her all that was worth while in the world. Even now, there were times when she woke in the night and thought of her dead brother, and there were times when he seemed to be very near to her, so near, indeed, that she could almost touch him. As if he were somewhere behind a veil striving in vain to get in contact with her.

It was not until after Sebastian Wilde had come into the neighbourhood and she had fallen somewhat under his influence that she began, tentatively, to discuss these mysteries with that eminent man of science. And he had not laughed at her, as she had half expected. On the contrary, he had been most understanding and sympathetic.

"Of course," he had said. "There are such things as mediums. Second sight and intermediaries and all that sort of thing. They are gifts you can cultivate—in fact, I have cultivated them myself. It is rather out of my line, but more than once I have succeeded in conjuring up pictures that almost frighten me. There is a scientific basis for them all, if we only knew what it was, but I hesitate to carry you along that path with me. Your temperament is too highly strung and romantic. If anything happened to you, I should never cease to blame myself. I mean, if anything happened to you mentally. Mind you, I am not saying that you could not rise to heights, but one never can tell, especially when dealing with one of your sex. And I am not going to say it is impossible for you to communicate with your brother on the other side. I myself have had some startling experiences."

At that point, Wilde had broken off and declined to say any more. From time to time he allowed Peggy to flirt round the subject, but he never encouraged her beyond the field of ordinary speculation. From time to time he lent her certain books, written, for the most part, by abstruse authors on a highly scientific plane, and with this Peggy was fain to be content. But the subject was never very far from her mind, a mind that was not naturally inclined to the morbid.

However, she put all this out of her head and busied herself for an hour or two in the garden until towards lunch-time, when Trevor Capner reappeared. There was a flush on his face and a sparkle in his eyes that aroused a vague alarm in Peggy's breast. She could not have said why, but that was what was uppermost in her head as Trevor came towards her.

"Look here, old thing," he said. "I am very sorry if I upset you this morning. Of course, I was a fool to talk like I did before Wilde and I shouldn't have done it if he hadn't annoyed me. And he did annoy me."

"Did he?" Peggy asked. "In what way?"

"Oh, well, if you put it like that, I can't tell you. He is a great man and a fine old fellow, and all that sort of thing, and I have the greatest possible respect for him, but he does encourage you in that spiritualistic nonsense."

"But he doesn't," Peggy protested. "He is always warning me to leave it alone. He says it is not the sort of thing that anybody with a romantic disposition like mine should embark upon. He is never tired of saying so."

"Oh, I dare say. But he is always lending you books and all that sort of thing. Cut it out, Peggy, cut it out. It only makes you miserable. Perhaps you think I don't notice it, but you spend a lot of time dreaming about poor old Victor. He was a splendid chap, and I know what a terrible blow his death was to you. I believe that if I hadn't been an airman like Victor, you would never have fallen in love with me. And you would give this place and all the money you have to bring the poor old chap back to your side again. But he is dead and gone, and you can't reach him. You never will reach him till you pass over to the other side yourself. Don't dwell upon it, darling, don't dwell upon it. After all, you have a lot to be thankful for, and so have I, for that matter. So let us be happy and thankful for the goods the gods provide."

"I am happy and I am thankful," Peggy whispered. "And I am none the less thankful because you promised me that you would give up flying. I should never have a moment's peace if I thought that my husband was an airman. I should regard it as a distinct affront to providence. Oh, you can call me foolish if you like. You may say that I should never have spoken like that if my dearest Victor had not been taken. Very well, Trevor darling, let us forget all about it. I won't think about Victor that way now you have given up your commission in the Air Force. Mr. Wilde can have his books back and—but what is the matter?"

"Well, it's like this," Capner stammered. "You see, I hadn't actually resigned my commission, although I promised you I would do so. You know how one puts that sort of thing off. Besides, I am interested in aeroplane construction, as you know. There was that helicopter of mine."

"Yes, yes, I know all about that," Peggy said eagerly. "It is one thing to design flying machines, and quite another to exploit them in the air. Trevor, you don't mean to say you have promised—I mean you are not committed——"

"Well, I am afraid I am, in a way," Capner blundered on. "You see, I haven't sent in my papers. I was so busy on that new bus of mine that I forgot all about it. I am still in the Air Force, and if I am called upon for a big stunt, then I shall have to obey. Think what people would say if I didn't. They would say that I was going to marry a girl with a heap of money and that I was thinking more of my own skin than of my country. More than that, they would say that I wouldn't dare to fly the plane for which I claim so much."

"Let us sit down," Peggy said a little faintly. "Let us sit down and talk it over quietly. I am very much afraid, Trevor, that you have something serious to say to me."

Capner gave a sign that might have been anxiety, and yet, on the other hand, might have been relief.

"Well, I have," he confessed. "I told you that I was expecting an important letter by the middle-day post, and here it is. Read it yourself. You can see that it comes from the Air Ministry. They highly approve of my new plane, which is equally adapted to war or peace. They want me to give it a thorough test. I have been asked—nay—ordered to fly from Croydon to Australia, and I am expected to make a record of it. If I accept, then I shall be off almost at once."

"And if you refuse," Peggy whispered.

"My dearest girl, how can I possibly refuse? Do you want me to be stamped for ever as a coward?"

"A coward," Peggy mocked. "With your reputation!"

"Well, it would look like it. And I am a coward in a way, because I was afraid to come and tell you what I have just said. Can't you see how cruelly I am situated? If I refuse this offer, I shall have it flung in my teeth that I was thinking of my personal comfort first."

"But of course that would not be true," Peggy cried. "Ridiculous to say that you are marrying me for my money, when your own private income is nearly as big as mine. And your own place is, if possible, a more desirable residence than Long Elms. And isn't the promise you made to your future wife just as sacred as your duty to the Air Force? For the last six or seven years you have done your country splendid service. You have taken risks that few men would care to face, and there are no new honours for you. Besides, I feel it in my bones that if you set off on this expedition you will never return. Oh, can't you see how cruel it is? First of all I lost a brother I loved more than I loved myself, and now I am asked to lend the man I have given my heart to with a risk that I may never see him again. Why should I be put to this double sacrifice? You promised, Trevor, you promised."

"I know I did," Trevor groaned. "And it was a promise I meant to keep. I will keep it now if I can."

"Wouldn't that be easy?" Peggy demanded eagerly. "You have done a great work in the past, you are presenting your country with a new type of 'plane from which great things are expected and, surely, there are plenty of ambitious young officers who would give an eye to have the chance that lies before you. Why not stand aside and let them have the opportunity?"

Peggy dropped her voice to a low and pleading tone that shook Trevor to the centre of his being. To sit there and watch the tears gathering in her eyes and see the mute appeal on that lovely face of hers moved him strangely.

"Very well," he said at length. "I will see what can be done. I don't like the task at all, because I know exactly what the big men at the Air Ministry will think. And there are others who will think, too, who won't be nice in the way they express their thoughts. And those confounded newspapers will get hold of it, too, and my rivals. They will hint that I have successfully deceived the Ministry and that I am selling them a machine that I dare not fly myself. Can't you see this? Can't you see the position in which I am placed?"

Peggy bent her head lower and lower, like one of her own lilies. There was no blinding herself to the cruel logic of Trevor's words. Still, he had made a promise to her and, womanlike, she could only see that that promise must be carried out to the letter.

"Then you will go to London?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, I shall go to London," Trevor said. "But, first of all, I will get on to a friend of mine at the Ministry through the telephone. I shall be able to catch him before he goes to lunch if I put a call through now. But if there is any doubt about it, then, my dear, I shall have to go."

"I think that would be the best," Peggy whispered. "And I rely upon you, Trevor, to do all you can."

Capner rose hastily from his seat.

"Very well, darling," he said. "Very well. But it is going to be cruelly hard either way."