Anthony Lyveden Part 46

What? Have I whipped up a puppet without advising you? Bear with me, sirs. 'Tis but the rustle of a gown--a silk knee against satin--upon the staircase. In another moment I shall have opened the door.

The more Monseigneur Forest thought upon the matter, so suddenly thrust smoking before him, the more uneasy he became. The kindest of men, he found the picture of the poor legatee fighting for existence when, but for another's remissness, he would have had a goodly heritage, inexpressibly distressing. Indeed, could he have started for Rome that night he would have done so. But for the knowledge that he was about to do all in his power to rectify the wrong, he could not have slept.

As it was, the reflection that Anthony Lyveden had yet to be found worried him greatly. It was, of course, most unfortunate that the business had not cropped up before. Here he was on his way to Hamps.h.i.+re, in response to a cry so instant that he had set everything on one side, and now, however sore her need of him, his niece, Miss Valerie French, would have to wait. Blood might be thicker than water, but the poor pinched ghost that had been knocking so long upon his door took vaulting precedence of any flesh and blood. In the good man's eyes this stranger, Anthony Lyveden, had earned and must be accorded the privileges of the dead.

Directly he reached his hotel he sat down at his bed-room table and indited a letter.

_1st March, 1921._

_My DEAR VALERIE,_

_I am, as you see, in London._

_Till an hour ago I was on my way to you. Now I must leave again for Rome to-morrow morning._

_By accident there has come to me the knowledge of a grievous wrong, for which I am largely responsible. This, mercifully, it may be in my power to repair. To attempt to do so, however, necessitates my immediate return in quest of a paper which none but I can procure._

_You can guess, my dear, how very much distressed I am that I must keep you waiting, but, if I told you the case, you would be the first to hale me to the station._

_I shall return straightway to England--that is, so soon as my years permit--and, all being well, I shall be here again one week from to-day, and with you at Bell Hammer one week from to-morrow._

_You did not tell me the nature of your trouble, so that I can offer no counsel; if, as I suspect, it concerns the man of whom you have already written to me, remember, for what it is worth, that my faith in him has never wavered from the moment you told me that he had won your love._

_Your affectionate uncle, JOHN FOREST._

To the prelate, who framed it, that letter was the best he could do: to Miss Valerie French, who received it, it was a great disappointment: and to an eminent brain-specialist, who had never heard of it, it was worth exactly three guineas.

"I should have come to you before," said Valerie, "but I was expecting my uncle, and wanted to ask his advice before I took such a step. But now he's delayed, and I can't wait any longer."

Sir Willoughby Sperm leaned forward and picked up a pen.

"One moment," he said, taking a sheet from a drawer. "Now then. What is the patient's name?"

"Major Anthony Lyveden, D.S.O.," said Valerie. "L-Y-V-E-D-E-N."

The name was entered.

"Yes. Address?"

Valerie hesitated. Then--

"Gramarye, Chipping Norton," she said.

The address went down.

"Age?"

"I think about thirty."

"Wounded?"

"Not that I know of."

"When did you see him last?"

"Eleven days ago."

"And before that?"

"Not for three months."

"And his demeanour had changed in the interval?"

"Exactly."

"Are you engaged to him?"

"No."

"Were you engaged to him?"

"Practically."

"And it was broken off?"

"I broke it off."

"Why?"

"I suspected him of inconstancy."

"Did you tell him so?"

"No."

"And he?"

"He left the neighbourhood."

"That was three months ago?"

"Yes."

"Was your meeting eleven days ago accidental or by arrangement?"