Jacob's Ladder Part 33

She rose, and he escorted her to the door.

"It's going to be such an adventure," she whispered, with a parting look.

Jacob called Dauncey into the office.

"Stroke of luck, d.i.c.k," the former announced. "I shall be able to do better than Marlingden--drop out of it altogether, in fact.

Felixstowe's people have asked me to go up and stay with them in Scotland for a fortnight."

"Capital!" Dauncey exclaimed. "You'll be well out of the way there."

"I shall leave my address with you and with no one else, d.i.c.k. For a fortnight you can consider me wiped off the face of the earth. Watch the investment accounts closely and act on your own initiative if necessary; but, above all things, see that Harris tries the new blight cure on 'Mrs. Fitzpatrick.'"

CHAPTER XX

Jacob, sleepy-eyed and desperately hungry, tumbled out of the train, a few mornings later, on to a lone stretch of platform, to find himself confronted by an exceedingly pleasant sight. Only a few yards away, on the other side of some white palings, Lady Mary, in a tartan skirt, light coat and tartan tam-o'-shanter, was seated in a four-wheeled dogcart, doing her best to control a pair of s.h.a.ggy, excited ponies.

"Come along, Mr. Pratt," she called out, "and jump in as quickly as you can. These little beggars aren't properly broken. The men here will look after your luggage."

Jacob vaulted lightly over the paling and clambered up by her side.

"Capital!" she laughed. "Now I shall see what your nerves are like."

Jacob took off his hat and drew in a long breath of the fresh morning air.

"I don't think you're going to frighten me," he said. "What a country!"

Almost directly they turned off the main road into what was little better than a cart track, across a great open moor, dotted everywhere with huge granite stones, marvellous clumps of heather and streaks of gorse. The sky was perfectly blue, and the wind came booming up from where the moorland seemed to drop into the sea. There were no rubber tyres on the wheels, and apparently no springs to speak of on the cart. They swayed from side to side in perilous fas.h.i.+on, went down into ruts, over small boulders of stone, through a stretch of swamp, across a patch of stones, always at the same half gallop. Lady Mary looked down and smiled at the enjoyment in her companion's face.

"You've pa.s.sed the first test," she declared, "but then I knew you would. I brought Mr. Montague along here yesterday morning, and he cried like a child."

"Mr. Who?" Jacob gasped.

"Mr. Montague and a friend of his. They came down with father last night. Perfectly abominable men. I hope you won't leave me to their tender mercies for a single moment, Mr. Pratt."

To Jacob, the warmth seemed to have gone from the sunlight, and the tearing wind was no longer bringing him joy. Up above him, the long white front of Kelsoton Castle had come into view. His wonderful holiday, then, had come to this--that he must walk, minute by minute, in fear of his liberty, perhaps his life. He was to spend the days he had looked forward to so much in this lonely spot with the men who were his sworn enemies. He looked behind him for a moment. The train by which he had come had disappeared long ago across a dark stretch of barren moor. Escape, even if he had thought of it, was cut off.

"I gather that you don't care much for Mr. Montague, either," she remarked, flicking one of the pony's ears.

Jacob roused himself.

"Not exactly my choice of a holiday companion," he admitted.

She leaned towards him.

"You are only going to have one companion," she told him. "I have demanded your head upon a charger--or rather your body in tennis flannels--for the rest of the day. The others are all going for a picnic."

"Is that fellow Maurice somebody coming down?" Jacob asked anxiously.

"He hasn't even been asked," she a.s.sured him, with a flash of her blue eyes. "Here we are at the first lodge. Now for a gallop up the avenue."

The Marquis in kilts, the very prototype of the somewhat worn Scottish chieftain of ancient lineage, welcomed his visitor on the threshold, from which the great oak doors had been thrown back.

"So sorry we haven't the bagpipes," he apologised, as he shook Jacob's hand. "We shall get into form in a day or two. Now you'll have a bath and some breakfast, won't you? Your things will be up in a few moments. You'll find some old friends here," he added, as he piloted Jacob across the huge, bare hall, "but my daughter tells me that she claims you for tennis--to-day, at any rate."

Everything seemed cheerful and rea.s.suring. His room looked straight out on to a magnificent, rock-strewn sea. The bathroom which opened from it was a model of comfort and even luxury. The Marchioness welcomed him cordially, later on, and Mr. Dane Montague and Mr.

Hartwell seemed very harmless in their ill-chosen country clothes, and ingratiating almost to the point of fulsomeness. Lady Mary glanced approvingly at Jacob's tennis flannels.

"I'm sure you'll be far too good for me," she sighed, as she gave him his coffee. "My racquet's simply horrible, too. It's three years old and wants restringing badly."

"I hope you won't think it a liberty," Jacob said simply, "but I had to call at Tate's to get one of mine which I'd had restrung, and I saw such a delightfully balanced lady's racquet that I ventured to bring it down. I thought you might play with it, at any rate, if you didn't feel like doing me the honour of accepting it."

"You dear person!" she exclaimed joyfully. "If father and mother weren't here, and my mouth weren't full of scone, I believe I should kiss you. There isn't anything in the world I wanted so much as a Tate racquet."

"Very thoughtful and kind of Mr. Pratt, I am sure," the Marchioness echoed graciously.

Jacob was never quite sure as to the meaning of that day, on which he and Lady Mary were left almost entirely alone, and the others, starting for an excursion soon after breakfast, did not return until an hour before dinner. They played tennis, bathed, played tennis again, lounged in a wonderful corner of a many-hundred-year-old garden, and afterwards sailed for a couple of hours in a little skiff which Lady Mary managed with the utmost skill. Sunburnt, tired, but completely happy, Jacob watched the returning carriages with scarcely an atom of apprehension.

"I think," he declared, "that this has been one of the happiest days of my life."

"That is a great deal to say, Mr. Pratt," said Lady Mary.

She seemed suddenly to have lost her high spirits. He looked at her almost in surprise. A queer little impulse of jealousy crept into his brain.

"You are tired," he said,--"or is it that you are thinking of some one else?"

She shook her head.

"I felt a little s.h.i.+ver," she confided. "I don't know why. I loathe those two men father has here, and I have an idea, somehow, that they don't like you."

"I have more than an idea about that," he answered half lightly. "I believe they'd murder me if they could. You'll protect me, won't you, Lady Mary?"

"I will," she answered quite gravely.

Nevertheless, the rest of the day pa.s.sed without any untoward event.

No one could have been more polite or harmless than Mr. Dane Montague at dinner; no one, except that he drank a little more wine than was good for him, more genial than Joe Hartwell. They played snooker pool, a game at which Jacob excelled, after dinner, and not one of the party made the least objection when Jacob excused himself early and retired to his room. He locked his door, and, sitting down by the open window, lit a last cigarette before turning in. Before him was the bay with its rock-strewn sh.o.r.e, and the quaint little tower, said to be six hundred years old, situated on a little island about fifty yards from the sh.o.r.e. On either side two heather-covered slopes, strewn with rocks, tumbled almost to the sea; and beyond, the ocean. The view was wonderful, the air soft and delicious. It was an hour or more later before Jacob turned reluctantly away. He was about to take off his dinner coat when he heard a soft yet firm knocking at his door. The old fears rushed back. It was well past midnight. The great house seemed strangely silent. The servants' wing was far out of hearing.

Jacob felt a curious sensation of friendlessness. The knocking was repeated. He hesitated for a moment and then crossed the room.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"I, your host," was the low reply,--"Delchester. Let me in for a moment, Pratt."

Jacob unlocked the door, opened it to admit his host, and closed it again. Somewhat to his surprise, the Marquis himself turned the key.

He was looking grave and a little perturbed.