The Betrayal Part 15

"How are you, sir?" the newcomer answered. "Sorry I didn't arrive in time to see you last night. We motored from King's Lynn, and the whole of this respectable household was in bed."

I knew at once who he was. The Duke looked towards me.

"Ducaine," he said, "this is my son, Lord Blenavon."

Lord Blenavon's smile was evidently meant to be friendly, but his expression belied it. He was slightly taller than his father, and his cast of features was altogether different. His cheeks were pale, almost sunken, his eyes were too close together, and they had the dimness of the _roue_ or the habitual dyspeptic. His lips were too full, his chin too receding, and he was almost bald.

"How are you, Mr. Ducaine?" he said. "Awful hour to be out of bed, isn't it? and all for the slaying of a few fat and innocent birds. Let me see, wasn't I at Magdalen with you?"

"I came up in your last year," I reminded him.

"Ah, yes, I remember," he drawled. "Terrible close worker you were, too. Are you breakfasting down stairs, sir?"

"I think that I had better," the Duke said. "I suppose you brought some men with you?"

"Half a dozen," Lord Blenavon answered, "including his Royal Highness."

The Duke thrust all his letters into his drawer, and locked them up with a little exclamation of relief.

"I will come down with you," he said. "Mr. Ducaine, you will join us."

I would have excused myself, for indeed I was weary, and the thought of a bath and rest at home was more attractive. But the Duke had a way of expressing his wishes in a manner which it was scarcely possible to mistake, and I gathered that he desired me to accept his invitation. We all descended the stairs together.

CHAPTER XI

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

The long dining-room was almost filled with a troop of guests who had arrived on the previous day. Most of the men were gathered round the huge sideboard, on which was a formidable array of silver-covered hot-water dishes. Places were laid along the flower-decked table for thirty or forty. I stood apart for a few moments whilst the Duke was greeting some of his guests. Ray, who was sitting alone, motioned me to a place by him.

"Come and sit here, Ducaine," he said; "that is," he added, with a sudden sarcastic gleam in his dark eyes, "unless you still have what the novelists call an unconquerable antipathy to me. I don't want to rob you of your appet.i.te."

"I did not expect to see you down here again so soon, Colonel Ray," I answered gravely. "I congratulate you upon your nerves."

Ray laughed softly to himself.

"You would have me go shuddering past the fatal spot, I suppose, with shaking knees and averted head, eh? On the contrary, I have been down on the sands for more than an hour this morning, and have returned with an excellent appet.i.te."

I looked at him curiously.

"I saw you returning," I said. "Your boots looked as though you had been wading in the wet sand. You were not there without a purpose."

"I was not," he admitted. "I seldom do anything without a purpose."

For a moment he abandoned the subject. He proceeded calmly with his breakfast, and addressed a few remarks to a man across the table, a man with short cropped hair and beard, and a shooting dress of sombre black.

"You are quite right," he said, turning towards me suddenly. "I had a purpose in going there. I thought that the gentleman whose untimely fate has enlisted your sympathies might have dropped something which would have been useful to me."

For the moment I forgot this man's kindness to me. I looked at him with a shudder.

"If you are in earnest," I said, "I trust that you were unsuccessful."

I fancied that there was that in his glance which suggested the St.

Bernard looking down on the terrier, and I chafed at it.

"It would have been better for you," he said, grimly, "had my search met with better result."

"For me?" I repeated.

"For you! Yes! The man came to see you. If he had been alive you might have been in his toils by now. He was a very cunning person, and those who sent him were devils."

"How do you know these things?" I asked, amazed.

"From the letters which I ripped from his coat," he answered.

"He came to Braster to see me, then?" I exclaimed.

"Precisely."

"And the letters which you took from him--were they addressed to me?"

"They were."

I was getting angry, but Ray remained imperturbable.

"I think," I said, "you will admit that I have a right to them."

"Not a shadow of a doubt of it," he answered. "In fact, it was so obvious that I destroyed them."

"Destroyed my letters!"

"Precisely! I chose that course rather than allow them to fall into your hands."

"You admit, then," I said, "that I had a right to them."

"Indubitably. But they do not exist."

"You read them, without doubt. You can acquaint me with their contents."

"Some day," he said, "I probably shall. But not yet. Believe me or not, as you choose, but there are certain positions in which ignorance is the only possible safe state. You are in such a position at the present moment."

"Are you," I asked, "my moral guardian?"

"I have at least," he said, "incurred certain responsibilities on your behalf. You could no longer hold your present post and be in communication with the sender of those letters."

My anger died away despite myself. The man's strength and honesty of purpose were things which I could not bring myself to doubt. I continued my breakfast in silence.