Till the Clock Stops Part 32

"Might have been lying in the shadow," Teddy suggested. "It's a new key."

"Oh, do try it in the box!"

"I think we may do that much." Alan lifted the box to the table. "Try it yourself, Miss Handyside."

"It fits!--it turns! Oh, Mr. Craig, just one little peep inside!"

"Against the rules," said Teddy, burning with curiosity.

"What rules?"

"We decided that it would be against my uncle's wishes to open the box before the clock stopped," Alan said reluctantly. Then brightly--"But, I say! we didn't take into account the fact that it had been already opened, though not by us--which alters the position considerably. Don't you agree, Teddy?"

"Oh, confound the thing, I'm dying to see inside, and yet--"

"I rather think--" began the doctor.

"Oh, don't think, father!" said Marjorie, her fingers on the edge of the lid. She looked to Alan. "May I?"

A tap, and Caw came in with a telegram for Alan.

"Excuse me," the host said, and opened it.

Caw caught sight of the key in the box, forgot his manners, and leapt forward, laying his hand on the lid.

And Alan went white as death. "Turn the key, Caw," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "and take it away." Partially recovering himself, he apologised to the girl.

"It was too rude of me, but something reminded me that I should be betraying a trust by opening the box now. Please try to forgive me."

She was very kind about it, for there was no mistaking his distress.

Presently she and the doctor departed. Alan dropped into a chair and handed the message to the wondering Teddy.

"Read it aloud. Listen Caw."

Teddy read:--

"Handed in at Fenchurch Street, 11:20 a. m. Alan Craig, Grey House, Loch Long. _For life's sake don't ever try to open Green Box--Friend_."

CHAPTER XXI

In the train, nearing London, Alan and Teddy yawned simultaneously, caught each other's eye, and grinned.

"We've had a deuce of a talk," said Alan, "and I hope you feel wiser, for I don't. How much simpler it would all have been had my uncle refrained from those explicit instructions respecting Bullard. We've actually got to be tender with the man until that blessed clock stops."

"But oh, what a difference afterwards!--though I doubt if we'll ever get anything like even with the beggar. By the way, about the Green Box--"

"Don't return to it!"

"I must, old chap. Do you still take that warning wire seriously? You don't think now that it was sent by Bullard for purposes of his own?"

"I feel that the warning was genuine and not Bullard's. Yet who could have sent it? Lancaster? Doris? ... But how should they know there was anything changed about the box? Also, was it Bullard who was in the house the night before last? It was certainly not he who went for Caw.... Oh, Lord, we're beginning all over again! Let's chuck it for the present.

And, I say, Teddy, won't you come with me to Earl's Gate after we've had some grub?"

"Thanks, no. I've made up my mind to have another dose of shadowing our friend. Ten to one I have no luck, but instinct calls."

"It's jolly good of you, and I'm afraid it's going to be a filthy night of fog. Well, when shall I see you?"

"Depends. Don't wait up for me. To-morrow is included in my leave, and the next day is Sunday, so we are not pressed for time."

"Consider what I said about your coming to Grey House for the winter.

You could help me in many ways. Of course, I don't want you to risk your prospects at the office, not to mention your person, and you must allow me to--"

"I'll see what can be done. You know I'm keen to see the thing through.

By the way, I needn't remind you to be mighty slim to-night so far as Mrs. Lancaster is concerned. She represents Bullard in that house. You spoke of inviting Lancaster to return North with you for a change of scene, and Heaven knows the old chap must need it; but don't you think such an invitation might simply mean upsetting the whole boiling of fat into the fire? Bullard--"

"And don't you think that the sooner we have the flare up the better?--Oh, hang! I keep on forgetting about that clock!"

"Lucky blighter! However, it's your affair, and the change might be Lancaster's salvation. He'll never get any peace for his poor weary soul where he is."

"You are fond of the man, Teddy?"

"Always liked him," Teddy answered, a trifle shortly. "Not so fond as you are, judging from what you're doing for him."

"Oh, drop that! I suppose there's no likelihood of getting them all to come North?"

"Can you imagine Mrs. Lancaster existing for a week without crowds of people and shops and theatres?"

"Well, we'll see," said Alan. "I--I'll consult Doris about it."

Ten minutes later they were in the Midland Hotel. Alan found a telegram from Caw--"Nothing doing,"--and received a legal-looking person who had been awaiting his arrival.

Time, the kindly concealer, is also the pitiless exposer. How often in the Arctic had Alan imagined, with his whole being athrill, this reunion with the girl who, in the last strained moment of parting, had promised to wait for him! How often had Doris, in the secrecy of her soul, even when the last hope of reunion had failed, repeated the promise as though the spirit of her lost lover could hear! And now fate had set these two once more face to face, and--neither was quite sure. Emotion indeed was theirs, joy and thankfulness, but pa.s.sionate rapture--no! A clasping of hands, a kiss after ever so slight a hesitation, and the embrace that both had dreamed of was somehow evaded.

"You haven't changed, Alan, except to look bigger and stronger," she remarked, after a little while.

"And you are more lovely than ever, Doris," he said; and now he could have embraced her just for her sheer grace and beauty. He was angry with himself and not a little humbled, for he had never really doubted his love for Doris. Her comparative calmness troubled rather than wounded him, for his faith in her was not yet faltering like his faith in himself, and he wondered whether her calmness was born of girl's pride or woman's insight. Nevertheless, amid all doubts and questionings his main purpose remained unwavering: he was here to ask Doris to marry him as soon as possible, so that he might rescue her and her father from the difficulties besetting them.

As for Doris, her mind was working almost at cross purposes with his.

Apart from the double barrier created by her father's unhappy position and her promise to Bullard, she knew that she could not willingly marry Alan, for at last it was given her to realise why the first news of his safety, as told by Teddy France, had failed to glorify her own little world.

She had seated herself, bidding him with a gesture to do the same, and now they were placed with the width of the hearth between them.

She was the first to break the silence that had followed a few rather conventional remarks from either side, and it cost her an effort. She was pale.

"Alan, I wish to thank you for your message to father in Teddy's telegram. I--I think it saved him. But--please let me go on--I want to be quite sure that Teddy told you everything that mattered."