Wrayson

“ Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden vision of a man's face—a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his fellow-guest? ”

“ The cigar slipped from his fingers and fell unheeded on to the grass. His mouth trembled and twitched pitifully.
"My—my daughter Louise!" he faltered. "Wrayson, you are not serious!"
"It is God's truth," Wrayson answered. "I would stake my soul upon it that the girl—I told you about—was the original of that picture! When I look at your daughter Edith I can see the likeness." ”

“ The Baron looked a little dubiously at the stream of people passing backwards and forwards.
"Are we not a little conspicuous?" he remarked.
"Does it really matter?" Wrayson asked. "It is only for this evening. I shall leave for London tomorrow, in any event. Besides, it is part of the bargain that we take coffee with these ladies. Here they are."
Wrayson introduced his friends with perfect gravity. Chairs were found, and coffee and liqueurs ordered. Wrayson contrived to sit on the outside, and next to his copper-haired friend. ”

“ For he had the air of one who sees beyond the world of visible objects, of one who sees things dimmed to those of only natural powers. With what figures, Wrayson wondered, idly, was he peopling that empty avenue, what were the fancies which had crept out from his brain and held him spellbound? He had admitted a more or less intimate acquaintance with the place: was he, perhaps, a former lover of the Baroness, when she had been simply Amy de St. Étarpe? Wrayson forgot, for a while, his own affairs, in following out these mild speculations. The soft twilight stole down upon them ”

“ For a time Wrayson had escaped. He swore to himself that he would go back no more into bondage; that he would dwell no more upon the horrors through which he had lived. He would take hold of the pleasant things of life with both hands, and grip them tightly. A man should be master of his thoughts, not the slave of unwilling memories. He would choose for himself whither they should lead him; he would fight with all his nerve and will against the unholy fascination of those few thrilling hours. ”

“ But, as yet, there was no sound or sign of human life! That was to come.
Wrayson came to a pause at last. He had passed from the shelter of the woods into a laurel walk, but further than this he could not go without being plainly visible to any one in the château. So he waited and watched. There were lights, he could see now, behind many of the ground floor windows of the chateâu, and more than once he fancied that he could catch the sound of music. He tried to fancy in which room she was, to project his passionate will through the twilight, so that she should come to him. ”

“ The park was uncultivated but picturesque, becoming more wooded as they climbed the hill leading to the chateâu. Wrayson smiled to himself as he remembered that this magnificent home and estate belonged to the woman who was his neighbour at Battersea, and whom he himself had been more than half inclined to put down as an adventuress.
A major-domo in quiet black clothes, who seemed to reflect in his tone and manner the subdued splendour of the place, received him at the door, passing him on at once to a footman in powdered hair and resplendent livery. ”

“ Wrayson. Is he, too, an editor?"
Wrayson shook his head.
"To tell you the truth," he said, "I know very little about him. He is one of those men who seldom talk about themselves. He is a barrister, and he has written a volume of travels. A clever fellow, I believe, but possibly without ambition. At any rate, one never hears of his doing anything now."
"Perhaps," the Baroness remarked, with her eyes upon the stage, "he is one of those who keep their own counsel, in more ways than one. He does not look like a man who has no object in life." ”

“ Wrayson," he said, "but there is a—lady at your right who seems anxious to attract your attention. We are none of us anxious to advertise our presence here. Is she, by any chance, a friend of yours?"
Wrayson looked quickly round. He understood at once the Baron's slight pause. The ladies of the French half-world are skilled enough, when necessary, in concealing their profession: their English sister, if she attempts it at all, attempts a hopeless task. ”

“ Wrayson was evidently perplexed. The Baroness adopted a persuasive attitude.
"My dear girl," she said, "we don't any of us know who killed your husband. After all, what does it matter? It is terribly sad, of course, but he can't be brought back to life again. You have yourself to think of, and how you are to live in the future. Give me that packet, I will destroy it before your eyes, and I promise you that you shall have no more anxiety about your future." ”

“ Wrayson said, "I am glad to see you. It was obvious, from your message, that you knew of some danger which was threatening Morris Barnes that night. It is therefore only fair to presume that you are also aware of its source."
"You go a little fast, sir," Mr. Bentham objected.
"My presumption is a fair one," Wrayson declared. "You are perhaps aware of my unfortunate connection with this affair. If so, you will understand that I am particularly anxious to have it cleared up."
"It is not at all certain that I can help you," his visitor said precisely. "It depends entirely upon yourself. ”

“ Wrayson turned away, and at that moment the Baroness re-entered the room.
"My friend," she said, addressing Wrayson, "I can do nothing for you. Whether you have offended Louise or made her too happy, I cannot say. But she will not come down. You will not see her again to-night." ”

“ A gold-foiled bottle appeared, and a packet of hastily cut sandwiches. Wrayson found himself mechanically eating and drinking before he knew where he was. Then in an instant the sandwiches had become delicious, and the wine was rushing through his veins like a new elixir of life. He was himself again, the banging of anvils in his head had ceased; he was shaken perhaps, but a sane man. His eyes filled with tears, and he gripped the Colonel by the hand.
"Colonel, you're—you're—God knows what you are," he murmured. "All the ordinary things sound commonplace. ”

“ Even if your suspicions are correct—and you scarcely know what you suspect, do you?—the Baroness is much too clever a woman to allow herself to be pumped by either you or me."
Wrayson felt himself subjected for several moments to the scrutinizing stare of those blinking, unpleasant eyes.
"You're not taking her side against me, are you?" Barnes asked distrustfully.
"Certainly not," Wrayson answered impatiently. "You must be reasonable, my young friend. I have done what I can to put you in the way of helping yourself, but I am a busy man. ”

“ Yet Wrayson thought that he had never seen her look more beautiful. She gave him her hand with a faint smile of welcome, and permitted him to raise it to his lips.
"This is very, very foolish," she said softly, "and I know that I ought to be ashamed of myself."
"On the contrary," he answered, "I think that it is very natural. But, seriously, I feel a little overpowered. You won't want to live always in a castle, will you, Louise?" ”

“ Wrayson said. "Who are you, and where are you ringing up from?"
"Remember you have promised!" was the only reply.
"All right! Tell me your name," Wrayson demanded.
No answer. Wrayson turned the handle of the instrument viciously.
"Exchange," he asked, "who was that talking to me just now?"
"Don't know," was the prompt answer. "We can't remember all the calls we get. Ring off, please!"
Wrayson laid down the receiver and turned round with a sudden sense of apprehension. There was a feeling of emptiness in the room. He had not heard a sound, but he knew very well what had happened. ”

“ Wrayson, is it not?" she asked, in a very sweet voice, but with a strong foreign accent. "We have so few visitors that one can scarcely make a mistake. You are very welcome."
She did not offer to shake hands, and Wrayson contented himself with a low bow. ”

“ But if I were you, I would have as little to do as possible with that man."
"We do not often meet," Wrayson answered, "and ours is only a club acquaintanceship. It is never likely to be more."
"So much the better," the Baroness declared. "Don't you agree with me, Louise?"
"I do not like Mr. Heneage," the girl answered. "But then, I have never spoken a dozen words to him in my life."
"You have known him intimately?" Wrayson asked the Baroness. ”

“ Wrayson began, "I returned home about twelve o'clock, let myself in with my own latch-key, and found a woman standing before my open desk going through my papers."
"A friend?" the Colonel asked.
"A complete stranger!" Wrayson answered. "Her surprise at seeing me was at least equal to my own. I gathered that she had believed herself to be in the flat of Morris Barnes, which is the corresponding one above." ”

“ A little girl of his down in the country, he told me. Then, do you know this? He was never in London for Sunday. Every week-end he went off somewhere; and I never heard of any one who ever saw him or knew where he went to."
"This is very interesting," Wrayson admitted; "but if he was married, surely his wife would have turned up by now!"
"Why should she?" the lady answered. "Don't you see that she very likely has what all you gentlemen seem to be so anxious about—his income?"
"By Jove!" Wrayson exclaimed softly. ”

“ Wrayson?"
"We have not come across any letters at all answering to that description," Wrayson assured her.
The Baroness glanced across at Barnes, who was certainly regarding her in somewhat peculiar fashion.
"Why does Mr. Sydney look at me like that?" she asked, with a little shrug of the shoulders. "He does not think that I came here to steal? Why, Mr. Sydney," she added, "I am very, very much richer than ever your brother was."
"Richer—than he was! Richer than two thousand a year!" ”

“ By seven o'clock the last carriage was rolling down the avenue. The Colonel, with a huge smile of relief, and a large cigar, came and took Wrayson's arm.
"Good man!" he exclaimed. "You've worked like a Trojan. We'll have one whisky and soda, eh? and then I'll show you your room. Say when!"
"I've enjoyed myself immensely," Wrayson declared. "Miss Edith has been very kind to me."
"I'm glad you've made friends with her," the Colonel said. "She's a harum-scarum lot, I'm afraid, and a sad chatterbox, but she's the right sort of a person for a man with nerves like you! ”

“ Wrayson was silent for a few seconds.
"Look here," he said, "this is a matter of common sense after all. If you were not deceived by a likeness, it was the man himself! That goes without saying. What reasons had you for supposing that he was dead?"
"The newspapers, the War Office, even the return of his effects."
"From where?" Wrayson asked.
"From South Africa. He was shot through the lungs in Natal!"
"Men have turned up before, after having been reported dead," he remarked sententiously. ”

“ Wrayson remarked thoughtfully, "is not a stern parent by any means."
"I should think not," she answered, smiling. "Dear old dad! I have never heard him say an unkind word to any one in my life."
"And yet——" Wrayson began, hesitatingly.
"Do you mind if we don't talk any more about it?" she interrupted simply. "I think you can understand that it is not a very pleasant subject. Do you feel like another set, or would you rather do something else?"
"Tennis, by all means, if you are rested," he answered. "We will find our old opponents and challenge them again." ”

“ WRAYSON was greeted enthusiastically, as he entered the club billiard-room, by a little circle of friends, unbroken except for the absence of Stephen Heneage. The Colonel came across and laid his hand affectionately on his arm.
"How goes it, Herbert?" he asked. "The sea-breezes haven't tanned you much."
"I'm all right," Wrayson declared. "Had a capital time."
"You'll dine here to-night, Herbert?"
Wrayson shook his head.
"I meant to," he declared, "but another engagement's turned up. No! I don't want to play pool, Mason. Can't stop. Colonel, do me a favour." ”

“ The Baroness beamed upon him amiably, and rose to her feet.
"You have come," she avowed, "in time to save me from despair. I am not used to go about so much unescorted, and I am not so independent as Louise. See," she added, pushing a gold purse towards him, "you shall pay our bill while we put on our cloaks. And will you ask afterwards for my carriage, and we will meet in the portico?"
"With pleasure!" Wrayson answered, rising to his feet as they left the table. "I will telephone for a box to the Alhambra. There is a wonderful new ballet which every one is going to see." ”

“ Étarpe. Wrayson looked long at the fertile and beautiful country, which seemed to fade so softly away in the horizon; but he looked longest at the chateâu amongst the woods.
"I wonder who lives there," he remarked. "I meant to have asked the waiter."
"I can tell you," the stranger said. "The château belongs to the Baroness de Sturm."
"A Frenchwoman?" Wrayson asked.
"Half French, half Belgian. She has estates in both countries, I believe," his companion answered. "As a matter of fact, I believe that this château is hers in her own right as a daughter of the Étarpes. ”

“ Wrayson answered.
"It makes nothing. For the present, villagers and every one are forbidden to enter. There are visitors at the château."
Wrayson turned away.
"Very well," he said. "Good night!"
The man did not answer him. Wrayson continued to climb the hill which skirted the park. He did not turn round, but he heard the gates open, and he was convinced that he was being watched, if he was not followed. He kept on, however, until he came to some more iron gates, from which stretched the grass avenue which led straight to the gardens of the château. ”