Chapter XXXVIII: A Man and a Maid

The five o’clock west-bound mail carried a saloon in which were fifteen men and one woman, who did not usually undertake a journey to the West of England. Bullott was taking no chances. He had been allowed to select his own posse, and when, at eight o’clock that night, they reached Newton Abbot, he was confident that, whatever the search of the Priory might produce, he would not fail through lack of able assistance.

Four big cars left at intervals for Two Bridges, partly because this made a convenient halting-place, and partly by reason of Bullott’s knowledge that Pawter usually spent the night at the hotel when his duties brought him to the Priory.

The first car carried Betty and her uncle, with Bill Holbrook, Inspector Bullott, and a detective at the driver’s side.

“I’m beginning to get thrilled,” she said in a low voice, as the car came down to Buckfastleigh-in-the-Moor, and the severe splendour of the new Abbey showed for a second in the paling light. “And you are also, Mr. Holbrook--you’ve spoken hardly a word since we left town.”

“No.” Bill roused himself with an effort. “I’ve got a thinking fit to-day. When are you leaving?”

“On Saturday,” she said. “I’m looking forward to that trip tremendously. The _Escorial_ is the biggest ship in the new American line, isn’t it, Mr. Stone?”

“The biggest and the best,” he said stoutly. “We’re going to show these Europeans that we can run ships as well as the best organisations in England or Germany.”

He spoke of the great social halls, of the swimming-pool, the wonderful suites, the Florentine restaurant and the palm court, and Bill grew more dismal in inverse ratio to his companion’s enthusiasm.

“Why don’t you come along? I’m making up a party for my camp in the Adirondacks.”

Bill sighed heavily.

“Get thee behind me, Lambert Stone,” he groaned.

“Why don’t you come, Mr. Holbrook?” asked Betty, to her uncle’s surprise. “You were one of the first people Mr. Stone suggested, but I--I thought you wouldn’t like to join us.”

“Who’s going?” asked Bill, and the first name damped any enthusiasm that was developing. “You’ll enjoy it, anyway,” he said. “We’re getting near Two Bridges,” with this he abruptly turned the subject.

The car pulled up before the hotel and Bullott went to see Pawter. He came out very shortly afterwards, and in his voice was a note of concern.

“Pawter hasn’t returned,” he said. “They say he is usually back by half-past nine, and it’s past ten now.”

“He isn’t that much behind his time that you need worry,” said Stone. “What do you intend doing--I mean, what is the object of raiding the Priory?”

“Primarily to take a good look at the gentlemen who are in control,” said Bullott. “I wish to satisfy myself that Mr. Leiff Stone is what he appears to be--the head of a perfectly harmless organisation.”

Lambert Stone was looking at him intently.

“That isn’t your object, Mr. Bullott,” he said quietly, “there is some other reason. My brother would not be a party to any illegal practices. Do you think that the Order has got into the hands of lawless men and that he is there too?”

“I think a good many things. I am scared about more,” he said.

The half-hour that followed afforded two members of the party an opportunity which one at least desired. Bill had strolled a little way along the dark road when he heard footsteps behind him, and, turning, discerned the figure of the girl.

“Mr. Holbrook,” she called, “I want to speak to you. Have I offended you?”

“Offended me?” said Bill in amazement. “Why, no, Miss Carew.”

“Or is it your natural repugnance to compromise?”

He did not see her smile, but he heard the laughter in her voice.

“You aren’t very friendly, are you? I remember not so long ago, when I walked a long way to avoid you. I am more shameless now. Are you very angry with me?”

“Why should I be?”

“Why won’t you come to America? My uncle would have really liked to ask you; it was I who stopped him writing you an invitation. You see, Mr. Holbrook,” she said as she walked by his side, “I was rather scared of you; I couldn’t understand what part you were playing in that horrible scheme to put me in a shop window, and I told Clive----”

“Shall we leave Lord Lowbridge out of account?” he said, with inexplicable exasperation.

“You don’t like Lord Lowbridge?”

“I like him all right,” said Bill. “I’m sorry I was so irritable.”

“Why don’t you like him?” she insisted.

“I don’t know. Does anybody like the perfect man--any other man, I mean?”

He heard her soft laughter and grinned a little sheepishly.

“You’re jealous!”

The astounding charge took his breath away.

“Jealous?” he stammered. “What do you mean? How can I be jealous?”

“You’re jealous,” she said again, “that is, if you’re human.”

He had no words to answer her.

“I’ve been on the stage--lived in an atmosphere where love and infatuation and the other pleasant mysteries of life are discussed so naturally and so persistently that even I can discuss them without--without embarrassment. A woman loses a great deal when she becomes sophisticated, but she gains in knowledge. Mr. Holbrook, you’re falling in love, and you mustn’t!”

Never before in his life had he felt at such a disadvantage, so incapable of pert rejoinder. She was telling him something that consciously he had not known.

“Why mustn’t I?” he said. His voice was husky as he went on quickly, “Of course, I know you’re frantically rich, and you’re in love with another man, but they’re the merest items, and anyway, there’s nothing to prevent my loving you--if I want.”

“Except that I’m married,” she said.

He stopped dead.

“To Lowbridge?” he asked, scarcely recognising his own voice.

“No, to Dr. Laffin. I think you ought to know this. I am married in the sense that I have been through a ceremony before the registrar. I don’t know why he did it, but--yes, I do.”

“Does Mr. Stone know?”

“No,” she said in a low voice, “I do not wish him to know--yet.”

They were nearing the hotel again when he halted.

“Suppose you weren’t married?” he asked, and it required all his courage to put the question. “Would that make a whole lot of difference to--to me, or to Lowbridge?”

“Let us go in,” she said, turning. “I thought I heard the inspector call.”

But he would not move.

“To whom would this make most difference?”

“To both of you, I think,” she said lightly, and then her arm was in his. “I shall never marry Clive,” she said.