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Secret of the Silver Car

<h2>Chapter Six</h2> <h3>FRESH FIELDS</h3> If Anthony Trent thought he was to be the guest at a small luncheon party where he could meet Arthur under friendlier circumstances and talk to Daphne intimately, he was mistaken. Castoon was staying at the castle and a number of people motored over from Falmouth as well as the owner of a big yacht lying for the time in the Fowey river. Lord Rosecarrel was very amiable. He seemed intensely grateful that Trent gave up a morning's shooting to attend a luncheon. There was no trace of suspicion about him. He had been told that Mr. Trent, an American of means, had been a guest at Dereham Old Hall. His daughter had not informed him of Alicia Langley's letter. But he was most interested to know that his son had saved the visitor's life. It was the one good act in the black years which had given him so much sorrow. Also Daphne had told him that Arthur liked Trent and would be a good companion. The physicians who were watching Arthur's case recommended that he should be kept interested. They desired that the[Pg 102] apathy which threatened to take hold on him should be banished. The Earl was growing more and more to leave things to the girl. The death of his two sons had been a terrible blow and he was beginning to find in solitary yachting and fishing trips a certain refreshing solace. From the deference that most of the people paid to Rudolph Castoon it was evident that he was a man of great influence and promise. Trent sat next to a rather pretty dark girl, a Miss Barham, who had come over from her father's yacht. "Everybody seems to hang on his words," he said. "Why?" "He's phenomenally rich," she answered, "and he has a career. He'll probably be Chancellor of the Exchequer in the next cabinet. Finance is bred in the bone of his sort. Hasn't he a brother in your country?" "A great power in Wall Street," Trent told her, "but we suspect a capitalist; and while Rudolph may get a title and much honor, Alfred in America couldn't get a job as dog catcher." "Of course you've seen he's simply mad about Daphne?" Miss Barham said later. "I've seen his side of it," Trent said frowning a little, "but what about Lady Daphne?" "Power is always attractive," Miss Barham said wisely, "and we English women love politics. One can never tell. I think the earl would be furious but Daphne always gets her way and after all Mr. Castoon is a great catch whichever way you look at it.[Pg 103] There's nothing financially shady about him and if Daphne should ever get bitten with the idea of making a salon, he's the man to marry." "What a brutal way to look at it," he said gloomily. "Are you young enough to believe in those delightful love matches, Mr. Trent?" the girl asked. "I did till I was almost fifteen." Anthony Trent should have been amused to find himself on the side of the angels. As a rule life had provoked cynicism in him and here he was fighting for ideals. "I talked like that until I was fifteen," he smiled, "and I meant it." Ada Barham turned her dark brilliant eyes on him. She rather envied the girl who had captured him. She felt it was a lover talking. "Of course you are in love," she retorted. "I always meet the really nice men too late. Dare you confess it?" "I admit it," he said a little confused. "American girls are very charming," Miss Barham declared. "I stayed at Newport a month last year. Of course you know Newport?" "Fairly well," he admitted. Oddly enough the recollection of his Newport triumphs was not as pleasing as usual. He had made some of his richest hauls in the Rhode Island city. What an amazing thing, he reflected, that he was here as a guests among people on whom, as a class, he[Pg 104] had looked as his lawful prey. Castoon with his millions was the sort of man he would like to measure his wit against. When Castoon looked across the table at him with a kind of innocent stare he decided that it would be a delightful duel. He knew English women wore little jewelry during the day so he could not estimate the value of what they owned at a luncheon, but he was certain Miss Barham's mother, who was addressed as Lady Harriet, had family jewels worth the risk of seeking to get. A woman whose husband owned a two-hundred feet steam yacht was distinctly among those whom in former days he had been professionally eager to meet. Before the luncheon Lady Daphne had explained that her brother would not be at the table. The family was anxious that he should not be subjected to the confusion of professing ignorance of some man or event which he ought to know. By degrees he was getting his bearings and reading through files of old newspapers the main events of the years that had been wiped from his mind. Anthony Trent was taken to the big room by a footman, the same room he had entered unannounced. "You must have thought me awfully rude," Arthur Grenvil said cordially, "but my sister had told you the reason. She says I used to know you." Grenvil looked at him wistfully, "I think she said I had saved your life." "You did," Trent answered promptly. And then,[Pg 105] because he was sorry for the ex-"Tommy" but more because he loved the other's sister, he plunged into a stirring account of the incident omitting the part of the exchange of confidences. "Apparently," said Grenvil, "it was the only decent thing I did during those dreadful forgotten years. If you knew the agony of not knowing what I did and dreading every day to learn something more of my career you'd pity me. I couldn't meet Castoon. They say I was a sort of secretary to him for six months and he had to send me away. All I remember of him is that he was my father's private secretary when I was a small boy of ten and my father ambassador at Constantinople. I'm afraid to see any of the people who come here." "That will pass," Trent said reassuringly, "you'll get a grip on yourself as your health improves." "That's what Daphne says," Arthur answered, "Isn't she splendid?" "Indeed she is," Trent said not daring to put the fervor in his voice that he felt. There was almost an uncanny feeling in talking with this new Arthur Grenvil. As a judge of men, and as a man who had met a great number of criminals and could estimate them accurately, Trent had known even in the darkness of the dug-out that Private William Smith was bad. Despite the absence of coarseness from the speech of the unseen man Trent had felt that he was evil and dangerous, a man to watch carefully. And this same man stripped of his mantle of black deeds was[Pg 106] now sitting talking to him with the deferential air of the junior listening with respect to his superior in years and his superior in knowledge. What a rôle for Anthony Trent, master criminal! But he played it as well as any of the parts he had set himself to enact. He became the elder brother, the sage counsellor, the arbiter, the physical trainer and the constant companion. In the beginning he cheerfully set out to play the part in order to win Daphne's approval. Later he really liked Arthur. He taught him to drive the high powered Lion car that was seldom used by the earl's chauffeurs and discovered in him an aptitude for mechanics which delighted his father. "You have done more for my son than I imagined could be done by anyone," Lord Rosecarrel said gratefully. "I owe him no small debt," Anthony Trent retorted, "and it's a very pleasant way of trying to pay it." It was not often that he saw the earl. Occasionally they played a game of billiards after dinner but the elder man was constantly occupied with reading when he was not aboard his boat. Since he had come to Cornwall, Trent had discovered what an important personage Lord Rosecarrel had been in the political life of his country until his sudden resignation a year before the war. Every now and then Trent would see regret expressed in a London paper or weekly review that he would not place his vast knowledge of the near East at his country's disposal. [Pg 107] There was still considerable trouble centering about the Balkans; and since the earl had been minister or ambassador at Belgrade, Bucharest and Constantinople he knew the country as few could hope to do without his experience. The prime minister himself, snatching a few days of golf at Newquay, motored over to the castle to lunch and asked his host personally to come from his retirement. It happened that Trent was lunching at the castle and heard the earl's decision not to leave private life. There was an incident in connection with this which made a curious impression on the American. When he had declined to represent his country finally, Lord Rosecarrel looked over the table at his son who was talking gaily and did not observe the glance. It was a look almost of hate that the earl flashed at him. Then it passed and was succeeded by the melancholy which the old aristocrat's face habitually wore. Trent was certain none had seen but he and he had never seen an evidence of it before. He reflected that Arthur was never wholly at ease in his father's company. Again and again he had caught a certain shamed look when the earl was speaking. Of course it was the knowledge of how in the forgotten years he had disgraced an honored name. That was understandable. But why should the father who knew all and had forgiven suddenly throw this look of hate over the table at the unconscious son? [Pg 108] "Arthur," said Trent one day to Lady Daphne, "looks as if he were still begging forgiveness. Why?" "It must be fancy on your part," she said and changed the subject instantly. He supposed it was some other skeleton, from that full closet, whose rattling bones had not been buried yet. There was something which still rankled in the earl's memory. He knew he would never find its origin from Daphne. His intimacy with the Grenvils began to alarm him. It was a fellowship which must sooner or later come to an end. He was utterly without vanity when it came to his relationship with Lady Daphne; but his love for her gave him such an insight and sympathy with her that he could not but be conscious that of late a softer mood had come to her when they were alone together. He knew that she looked for his presence where before she had been indifferent. Sometimes when they touched hands at parting there was the faint, lingering hold which said more than looks or spoken words. It distressed him to hear that she had defended him valiantly when the wife of a nearby landowner had referred to him as an American adventurer and fortune hunter. Daphne had sprung to his rescue in a flash. Half the country gossiped about it. It was very loyal of her, he felt, but also very unwise. The earl had heard of it and was displeased. But he trusted his daughter and Trent was working amazing changes with Arthur. It was only when[Pg 109] the prime minister spoke of the American that Lord Rosecarrel knew he must not ignore the thing any longer. "And who is the good looking lad upon whose words your daughter hangs?" "A delightful fellow," the earl said, "I don't know what Arthur would have done without him. He is reconstructing the poor boy." And indeed the earl was fond of the stranger. But his daughter must marry into her own station in life. His other girl's home was in France and he wanted Daphne to remain in England. It occurred to him as very strange that he had made so few inquiries into Trent's antecedents. He supposed it was the man's personal charm and the fact that he was himself not in good health that had allowed him to be careless. One day at a dinner that came in the week after the prime minister's visit, a dinner to which Trent alone was bidden, he said: "We shall miss you very much when you have to go, Mr. Trent, but I suppose your affairs in America call you imperatively." Anthony Trent made no answer for the moment. It was as though sentence of death had been passed upon him. He could only admit that this was the logical if long-delayed end to the pleasantest days of his life. He had brought it on himself by his own weakness. For all his strength he was in some ways deplorably weak. He had been weak to leave the ways of honest men. Primarily he had none of those grudges against organized society which drive some[Pg 110] men to crime. He had fallen because he was tired of narrow ways of life and a toil which offered few high rewards. And, more than all, he had been weak in that he had encouraged an intimacy with a family of this type. The Lady Daphne was not for him. He called to mind a phrase that Miss Barham had said about Castoon at this very table. She had said there was nothing financially shady about him which might prevent marriage between him and Daphne. No matter how much Anthony Trent sought to deceive himself about his way of crime and comfort himself with the reflection he never despoiled the poor or worthy but inevitably set himself against the rich and undeserving, he knew he stood condemned in the eyes of decent men and women. He was aware that Daphne and Arthur were listening for his answer. Daphne's face was white. "I shall miss you all, sir," he said, "more than I can say." "You are not really going?" Arthur cried. "I must," he said. "My affairs at home need looking after and I have lingered on here forgetting everything." Lady Daphne said nothing. He did not dare to look at her. He knew she was thinking that but for her father's mention of his leaving she might not have known until he chose to tell; and he had told another first. Because he was grateful that Trent had been quick to take the hint the Earl of Rosecarrel was particularly[Pg 111] gracious to his guest and proposed a game of billiards. It was while the old nobleman was making a break that Daphne dropped into a chair at Trent's side. "Are you really going?" she asked. "I ought never to have stayed so long," he answered. "Do you want to go?" "You know I don't," he said passionately. "And is your business so important?" "Wait," he said rising to his feet when his opponent had finished a break of fifty-three. "It's my turn." "I have never," said the earl, chalking his cue, "seen you miss that particular shot before." Anthony Trent came to the girl's side. "We can't talk here," he whispered. "The hounds meet at Michaelstowe tomorrow and draw the Trenewth covers. Will you be out?" "Yes," she said, "but what chance shall we have to talk there?" "We can lose the field," he said, "and ride back over the moors alone." <hr class="tb" /> Arthur Grenvil had taken the mastership of the North Cornwall Foxhounds and persuaded Trent to follow them. The American had added a couple of better-bred faster horses to his hack and now enjoyed the gallop after a fox as much as any hardened foxhunter of them all. A fox was discovered almost immediately when[Pg 112] the Trenewth covers were drawn and got well away making in a westerly direction for the Wadebridge road. Daphne and Trent made a pretense of following but soon drew apart from the rest. The music of hounds became fainter and they turned back to the moors. "You might have told me," she said reproachfully. "I didn't know," he answered, "I only realized when your father spoke that it was more or less a command." "My father may be the lord-lieutenant of the county," she said, "but he has no power to send a man away if the man doesn't want to go." "Can you think I want to go?" he demanded. "I only know you are not going to stay." She touched her horse lightly on the shoulder and put him to a canter. Trent saw that she was heading for Rough Tor, one of the two mountains guarding the moorlands. Once or twice they had ridden to its rocky top and looked at the hamlets through whose chimneys the peat smoke rose, and those strange hut circles of a prehistoric people. The path along which she went was too narrow to permit him to ride by her side and he was forced to ride in silence for almost an hour. When she dismounted at Rough Tor and he tethered the horses to a short wind shorn tree he could see she was not the same cheerful girl of yesterday. "Why did you stay here so long?" she asked presently. [Pg 113] "Because I love you," he answered. "Why do you go away?" "Because I love you better than I knew." She looked at him with a faint smile. "That is very hard to understand, Tony." It was the first time she had ever called him by the name her brother used. He took one of her gauntleted hands and kissed it. "My dear," he said tenderly, "it is crucifixion for me." She looked at him still with the little wistful smile on her face. "And are you the only one to suffer?" The knowledge that she cared as much as he did brought a look of misery to his face where only triumph should have reigned. "Ada Barham told me about the girl in America," she continued. "Of course I imagined there would be a girl somewhere whom you cared for but I think you might have confided in me. Weren't we good friends enough for that?" "There is no girl anywhere," he said. "I told Miss Barham that because I didn't want her to suspect it was you." "Then why must you go away?" There was almost a wail in her voice. "I have told you," he answered, trying desperately to keep his voice even, "I must go because I love you better than anything else in life." She laughed a little bitterly. "And so that is how men behave when they are in love!" [Pg 114] "When a man really loves a girl he should think first of her happiness." She looked at him simply. There was none of the false shame that lesser natures might feel in avowing love. "Don't you understand," she said in a low voice, "that you are my happiness?" For a moment the devil tempted him even as the Son of Man had been tempted upon a mountain top. Why should he think of the future when today was so sweet? In the big Lion car in the castle garage he could make Southampton in time enough for the White Star liner which went out tomorrow. They could be married on board or at any rate directly they reached America. Then with the money he had saved they could be happy. She was the woman he wanted, the woman he worshipped. Then the other side of the picture presented itself. He saw them married on board and radiantly happy as they approached the land that was to be her home. Then the hard-faced men who showed official badges and informed him he was wanted for a series of crimes which would keep him away from wife and home and liberty until she was an old woman. One ending to the trip was just as likely as the other. Situated as he was he could never be certain of safety. This period in quiet Cornwall was the first time since he had taken to crime that he had become almost careless. He would break Daphne's heart for she was of the kind who would never love another man. And the disgrace he would[Pg 115] bring upon this kindly family of hers which had suffered enough already. The screeching headlines in the press of the earl's daughter who married a crook. It was not to be thought of. "Dear," he said softly, "if there were any obstacles which could be removed by human effort I should not say goodbye like this. Please don't ask me to tell you anything more." "You said at Dereham that you felt you could sell your soul for a past. Is that it?" "That is the irrevocable thing," he told her. "Pasts can be lived down," she whispered. "Not mine," he said dismally. "Daphne I have not been here all this time without knowing you and the sort of people from whom you spring. It is because of your tradition of honor that you felt Arthur's misfortunes so much. I can bring upon you and yours a greater disgrace than he could." "I won't believe it," she cried. "I don't want you to," he said gratefully. "I remember the thing said about your family, 'the Grenvils for Loyalty' and I love you for it, but Lady Polruan was right when she called me an unknown adventurer from America. The other countrymen of mine you meet here, like Conington Warren for instance, have their place at home. I haven't. I am without the pale. They don't know me and I can't know them. There is that great gulf fixed which you can never understand. I want to go away leaving you still my friend. If you ask me questions about myself and I answer them truly I[Pg 116] may have to carry away with me the picture of your scorn. Be kind, Daphne and don't ask any more." "I should never scorn you," she cried. He put his arms about her and kissed her. "My dear," he whispered, "my sweet, believe always that there is something God himself could not alter or I would never give you up like this." "It is very hard," she said presently, "to have found love and then to know it must only be a little dream that passes." "It is my just punishment," he answered. "When do you go?" "Tomorrow." She put her arms about his neck and looked him full in the eyes. "Darling," she said, "I shall never love anybody but you. Girls always say that, I know, but I have always been a little afraid of love and its exactions and the sorrow it brings. You see I was right in being afraid for directly I find you I must lose you." She leaned forward, one elbow on her knee, and looked at the countryside spread out at her feet. "I shall probably live here to be an old woman and look after other old women and see they have tea and warm wraps for the bad weather, and give the old men tobacco. That's all I look forward to. Tony, Tony, why is it one can't die on the day when one is killed?" He sat in silence. Bitterly as he regretted his past which had risen to prevent happiness, he regretted[Pg 117] his staying here in Cornwall even more. If he alone had suffered it were well enough, part indeed of the punishment he merited. But to have dragged this girl into it and to have made her love a man who could never marry her was the blackest of all. Perhaps she suspected it for she turned to him and put her hand on his. "Poor Tony," she said caressingly, "it's no good blaming yourself. It had to be. I think I've always loved you. Before it is too late and you are gone away, are you sure this thing that stands between us cannot be banished or atoned or paid for in money? You know I have a large fortune of my own and it is all yours if you need it. Don't let any little thing stand between us. Where one loves wholly one can forgive all. I shall not ask you again; but, my dear, if any human agency can give you to me let me know." Anthony Trent thought of the view he once had of a great penitentiary in which a man he used to know was serving a life sentence. The prison was set among arid country in sandy plains. Along the top of the stone walls sentries were placed at intervals, men with sawed-off shot guns waiting the opportunity to kill such as sought to escape the dreary days and dreadful nights. His friend made the desperate attempt and died as warders crowded about him and congratulated the guard on his markmanship. It was this place which might at any moment receive the person of Anthony Trent. He could not think of the law as a human agency.[Pg 118] That was one of the differences between the Anthony Trent, writer and Anthony Trent, crook. The writer regarded the law and its officers with a certain meed of respect but the criminal hated them. "There is nothing that can help me," he said. There was silence for a little; then she rose to her feet and pointed out scarlet coated men in the distance and galloping horses. Arthur's hounds had lost their fox in Tregenna woods and had found another stout dog fox headed for his earth on the moors. "We can follow after all," she said, with an attempt to be cheerful. They kissed silently and then remounted the impatient hunters. By devious ways they joined the field again. The moorland was a dangerous country to ride. Great stone walls divided small fields and there were sunken roads and paths by which, thousands of years before, the Ph&oelig;nicians had taken their way. It was observed with what recklessness the American rode. "He'll break his neck if he isn't careful," said a rosy faced old "hunting parson," as Trent set his horse at a great granite barrier. He was not to know that Anthony Trent would have welcomed just such an end. <hr class="chap" />[Pg 119] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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