Читать книгу A Shadowed Love - Fred M. White - Страница 4

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"You'll get on," the cashier said with grim admiration, as he glanced at Mr. Spencer's card with its few pencilled lines. "There's your money."

"Thanks," Dick replied. "Would you mind giving me that card back? It's sentimental, of course, but I should like to keep it. And if I can do anything for you—"

"Well, you can, as it happens. There's your card. There's a letter come for the governor which is marked urgent. I've got nobody I can send without inconvenience, and if it is not too much out of your way perhaps you will take it?"

It was a little cooler now, a few drops of rain had fallen, but not more than sufficient to lay the dust. Cambria Square was getting dark, a brooding silence lay over the gardens. Dick delivered his letter to the surly hall porter, and then turned his face eastwards. A few drops of the late rain pattered from leaf to leaf; there was a pleasant smell of moist earth in the air. By shutting his eyes Dick could conjure up visions of Stanmere.

The sound of hurried footsteps brought him to earth again. As he re-crossed to the pavement a tall figure, with streaming beard and white agitated face came round the corner almost into his arms. On the impulse of the moment Dick shot out a strong arm and detained him.

"I hope there is nothing wrong, sir?" he asked, meaningly.

The tall man with the beard paused and rubbed his eyes. He had every appearance of one who flies in his sleep from some terror.

"Did you see anybody?" he whispered. "A man who had—but of course you didn't, the thing is utterly absurd. Sir, are you a man of imagination?"

Dick replied that unless he possessed imagination, he had cruelty mistaken his vocation in life. The strange man with the wild air was utterly unknown to him, and yet there was something in his voice that was familiar. The terror was gradually dying from his face; he was growing sane and quiet again. It was a fine, broad, kindly face, but there was the shadow of some great trouble haunting the deep-set grey eyes.

"I must have astonished you just now," he said. "As a matter or fact, I have had a great many years abroad. Sunstroke, you understand; since when I have never been quite the same. I can manage my property as well as anybody; for months I am quite myself, and then these attacks come suddenly. Always at night when I am alone in the dark; I come out to try and cure myself. At the same time, are you quite sure that you met nobody?"

"If you would like," Dick suggested, "I shall be glad to walk a little way—"

The stranger replied somewhat curtly to the effect that there was no occasion for anything of the kind. He passed on with a steady step, leaving Dick to his more or less amused thoughts. Such a character might be useful to him in fiction. The whole facts of the case appealed to the young novelist's imagination. Here was a rich and prosperous man, envied and flattered and admired, who was constantly pursued by some haunting terror. Perhaps in the early days he had committed some great crime; perhaps some dreadful vengeance was hanging over his head.

But the noble, kindly face belied all that. No doubt the explanation given was no more than the truth. The poor fellow suffered in that peculiar form, and he was doing his best to shame himself out of it.

"I'll take another turn round the square," Dick said to himself. "It's foolish, but I am too restless to go home quite yet."

It was very still there. Most of the lights were out in the staid houses by this time, a policeman clanked along and disappeared. Then a murmur of voices arose, the distant sound of laboured breathing, a shout and a strangled cry. It was all strange and dreamy for a moment, then the reality of tragedy flashed upon the listener. He might be in time to prevent outrage or worse.

He turned the corner quickly. As he did so, his tall friend with the beard came along. He was running fast, with the free and easy stride of the athlete, running with an ease surprising in one of his time of life, his beard streaming in the breeze caused by his own swift motion. He was without a hat; there was a certain ferocious furtiveness in his eyes, but the broad, noble face had not changed. It was not the face of a man in terror now, but the face of one who flies from some crime.

He dodged Dick, who stood to bar his progress, with the greatest ease. The smile on his face was of contempt. There was not the slightest sign of recognition on it. And Dick could have sworn that his late companion had worn a black tie, yet there he was again with a vivid red one.

Meanwhile the groans were still going on. Dick sped rapidly round the corner. The whole thing had happened so quickly that no time had been lost. Just by one of the pillars of the stout, square railings, was a patch of blood. From somewhere close by moaning could be heard.

"Where are you?" Dick whispered.

"Inside," came the reply. "When he struck me down I saw that there was somebody behind him. Then I turned and lifted up the second rail from the stone capital and crept inside here. It comes up from the bottom. You can get through that way."

Dick staggered back. The voice was quite familiar to him. It sounded just like the voice of the dangerous lunatic he had encountered half an hour ago. But that could not be, seeing that the madman in question had just passed him, flying apparently for his life, in another direction.

"I'll come to you," Dick Stammered. "It's quite safe."

"You are quite sure that he has gone?"

"Certain. He passed me running his best. Did you say the second rail? Yes, here it is. Now then."

The railing slid back in its socket, leaving a space large enough to admit a human body. Dick squeezed through, until presently he could see the dim outline of a figure prostrate on the grass.

"Are you very much hurt?" he asked.

"No," said the strangely familiar voice. "A mere flesh wound. What's that?"

"So far as I can judge, a belated policeman hurrying to the spot. Shall I call him?"

Dick's arm was grasped with passionate force.

"Not for worlds!" came a hoarse reply. "If you have any regard for more than one pure and innocent life you will be silent. Let the man search; he will find nothing. I found that loose rail by accident, and by this means I often come here late at night. Hush! that man is coming close."

The flashing zones of light ceased, the beat of footsteps died away. All was still and quiet once again.

"We can't stay here all night," Dick suggested.

His companion staggered to his feet, Dick helping him into the roadway. He stood under the lamplight the most astonished young man in London, for his companion was the man with the grey beard and the kindly face.

"You seem to be my guardian spirit to-night," he said, faintly.

Dick had no reply. He was too dazed to think as yet.