The Men Who Wrought Part 47

Ruxton was disguised in a suit of clothes that left nothing to be desired. Mrs. Clark, the landlady, could have possessed no doubts as to his calling. She knew the type of mechanic too well. Von Hertzwohl was still arrayed in his work-soiled suit, which his intellectual features denied as the yellow lamp-rays fell upon them. Ruxton's outward seeming was calm, but inwardly his active thoughts were teeming. The opportunity which otherwise must have been made had been afforded him without his personal effort. He knew that the crisis in all his plans had arrived. It was for him to turn the course of affairs in his own favor, or accept almost certain defeat. So he waited, coordinating every mental force he could make available.

It was a serious, almost pathetic pair of eyes which were at last raised from the letter, which was in Vita's handwriting. There was something almost like dismay in their wide depths as they encountered the steady gaze of Ruxton's. It was a moment of grave embarra.s.sment--but only for Von Hertzwohl. He felt like a man hunted before the gaze of the younger man's dark eyes.

But Ruxton had no desire to discompose him. His mind was clear, his course marked out. He saw with perfect understanding the only road by which he could achieve his end. The night when, in the midst of all his doubts and difficulties, he had suddenly caught a glimpse of daylight, he had realized that Vita's father sat under pledge to his daughter.

The nature of that pledge was difficult to appraise definitely, but it was obviously directed towards secrecy to which he must not be admitted. His hope lay in admitting its inviolability.

"I want you to listen to me, Prince, for some moments," he began at once. "I have one or two things to put before you, simply and straightforwardly. In doing so I want you to realize my motive. I have told you, her father, of my love for Vita. That love burns as deeply in my soul for her now as it has done ever since I first met her. I want you to know that I am fighting for that love now, that I shall continue to fight for it so long as I have the power. Nothing will deter me; nothing our enemies can do, nothing Vita can say, short of a direct dismissal. This is my motive, simple and honest. I have not come here to ask you the contents of your letter from her. I do not want to know them. I have not come here to press you in any direction which your honor, your loyalty to your daughter denies. I have come here to tell you the things I know, and the things I believe, without exaggeration, and to obtain your consent to a small favor, which, in common fairness, you cannot deny me."

The embarra.s.sment in the deep, s.h.i.+ning eyes beneath the s.h.a.ggy grey brows was growing. To Ruxton they were almost a child's eyes, so simple and earnest, and so full of unconcealed trouble.

"It is an ominous prelude," the Pole replied, with a poor attempt at a smile.

"But not so ominous as the _denouement_ which, I fear, is likely to come when you attempt to leave these sh.o.r.es."

Ruxton's retort came with a quiet emphasis and directness which completely took the other aback.

"I do not see---- Is that a threat, Mr. Farlow?" All the childlike trouble had vanished from the man's luminous eyes. They were s.h.i.+ning with a definite challenge which revealed the ready spirit of the man, which Vita always told of.

Ruxton smiled.

"Not from me, sir."

"Then from whom?" The words were incisive.

"From your--our enemies across the water."

All the fire had departed out of Von Hertzwohl's eyes; only was there interest in them.

"Tell me," he said simply.

Ruxton drew a deep breath.

"There is so little--and yet, to me, so much to tell. I cannot force my line of argument upon you, because it is less argument than conviction.

I can only tell you those things which I know, and a.s.sure you of my conviction."

The Prince inclined his head in a non-committal manner.

"This is the second letter you have had from Vita, in her handwriting, and addressed from her home. These letters have come through my father, just as you have received them. I am prepared to believe Vita has written them, but she has not written them from Redwithy. That I can swear to. Vita has not been near Redwithy since the day of your arrival here."

"And that is--true?"

There was a slight change in the Prince's manner, but it was an undefinable change.

"I will stake my honor upon it. Now," Ruxton went on after a fractional pause, "let us leave that. It could be explained--if for some inscrutable reason she wished to avoid me. Let me point something else.

When I came up here to meet you on your arrival I left Vita, who had promised ardently to be my wife, waiting, in a fever of apprehension, for a message from me of your safe arrival. That message was promptly sent, and it reached Redwithy. But before it arrived Vita had left her home with her maid, Francella, in a strange motorcar, for a destination unnamed. And yet in a perfect fever of anxiety she had been awaiting that message. One moment," as the old man, with eyes wide with astonishment, was about to break in. "When I arrived at Redwithy that message was lying amongst a pile of correspondence, all of which had been secretly opened and re-sealed. Would Vita have arranged for that even if she wished to avoid me? Would she not simply have written me a note of dismissal? It is the commonest of common sense." He paused, with brows raised questioningly. "Now come these letters to you, sir,"

he went on a moment later. "I do not know their contents; I do not wish to know them. But they prove she is aware of your safe arrival. And I judge they are urging you to leave the country, since you expressed no idea of doing so till you received the first letter. Now, sir, one last word and I have told you all I know and all I believe. Either those letters are forgeries or they are written by Vita under pressure. Vita is aware you are here at Dorby. Therefore she has been told, for I do not believe she has seen my message. She has communicated with you by the only means either she or any one else could think of--through my father. She does not know where you are, so she cannot be forced to betray you. But she can be forced to decoy you, or you can be decoyed in her name. Prince, a trick is being played--a clever trick; and my conviction of it is all the greater, since I would stake my life on Vita's loyalty to you--and to me."

The Prince remained silent for some moments. Ruxton had risen from his protesting chair and moved across the room. He refrained from even glancing in the old man's direction. He wanted him to have time. He wanted to exercise no moral influence by appearing to await urgently his reply.

He had outlined the plain facts without studied effect. The whole purpose of his visit was still to be achieved.

He turned at last and came back to his chair as the other cleared his throat.

"There is sense--common sense in what you say." The big eyes of the man were clear and luminous, but they were not looking at his visitor. They were gazing at the oil-lamp on the table. "But you have not read Vita's letters, or you would see that much of your statement becomes impossible. I have not the right to show you those letters, therefore you must accept, or not, what I say. I a.s.sure you if there is a trick, or plot, it is so deeply laid that Vita cannot see it; and, in view of her letters, neither can I. Had I not received her letters I could have accepted your beliefs, but those letters put the idea beyond possibility. Mr. Farlow, I am sorry. I could think of no greater delight, or honor, than having you for my son. If what Vita has done, if her course has been arranged with a view to breaking with you, then I can only say I regret more deeply than you can ever dream. All you have done, and are doing, and have dared in my interests have endeared you to an old man's heart just as surely as though you were my son. It is only very, very rarely that men meet _men_. In you and your father I have been doubly fortunate. Will you believe me when I say it? But for the rest it is not for me to decide. Your love for my daughter I realize is deep and sincere. It is for you two to settle it. But that she is in the hands of our enemies I truly and sensibly cannot believe.

I a.s.sure you there is no hint of it in her letters. One final word. You fear that I am running headlong into a trap. Do not fear for me. I have none. My submersible will convey me to safety as it has done before."

The old man's words, so kindly spoken, so full of regard, and loyalty and courage, came without any shock or disappointment to the other. Not a muscle of his strong face moved. Nor was there a shadow of change from the determination in his dark eyes. When he began to speak, however, a dawn of a smile grew in them. It was a smile of confidence.

The att.i.tude of the other had made his purpose a shade easier.

"Then, in face of my beliefs, you will go, Prince?" he asked.

The direct challenge seemed to slightly disconcert the other. Von Hertzwohl had spoken the truth when he said that his regard for Ruxton had become as that of a parent. He felt that his reply must hurt him.

"It must be," he said. Then he endeavored to soften his decision. "It is best so. Best for our work; for you; for--Vita. Ach! I would like to tell you all I have in here"--he tapped his broad brow with a forefinger. "But I cannot. I may not. Dorby has been a haven to me, and I longed to be near and witness the growth of that work which is to make impossible the vile cruelty of men, all the horrors of an indefensible slaughter. I told myself I would sit here and see my dream slowly, step by step, fulfilled. I said that you and your father were the laboring genius setting up the defence which was to serve humanity in the days to come. And in the pride and joy of my heart I told myself that mine was the brain that had conceived this merciful weapon, which I should watch grow to its final triumph. But now I know that it is not so. I may not witness the triumph of my labor here, where it is to be achieved. My presence adds jeopardy to it. It adds jeopardy to you all.

It must not be. I have made my mind up. I must go."

Ruxton inclined his head as though in a measure of agreement.

"If it can be done in safety perhaps it is as well," he said.

"Safety?" The wide eyes s.h.i.+ning beneath the s.h.a.ggy white brows were smiling and full of a boyish delight at the thought of adventure. "Show me. How can it be otherwise? Have we not held the secret of our landing? Who is to know the secrets of our cove? The tides--is there a Teuton spy who would face the entrance of that cove and believe that it is free to us to enter or leave it at will? No one would believe it could serve a landing."

"No. And you will go that way?"

"Yes. I shall leave on Sunday night. The tide will serve us at half-past six. It is then dark."

The old man's spirits were rising at the thought of cheating his enemies. His eyes were full of guileless delight. Ruxton was regarding him with something of the same spirit lighting his own smiling eyes.

"It would seem safe enough. I can offer no objection. And yet----"

"Ach! you still fear for me," cried the other impulsively. "It is the obstinate English in you. Yes, yes. That temperament. You bite hard and will not let go. So."

But Ruxton suddenly bestirred himself. He pa.s.sed the simple levity of the other by. His eyes had become serious.

"Look at it my way, sir," he said in a deep, urgent tone. "I have told you all I feel and fear. Suppose it was my own father, for some day I hope and believe you will become my other father. Can you not see all it means to me--your safety? I feel you are my trust, and I dare not risk unduly. Will you grant me a favor, sir--a trifling favor from your point of view? Allow me to take such measures to safeguard your going as I see fit. You shall not be made aware of that safeguarding, I promise you--except in case of the treachery I antic.i.p.ate. I shall not interfere with any plan you may have made. I will, as our naval men say, 'carry on' and 'stand by,' unseen by you and by our enemies--unless danger threatens you. It is not much to ask, and it means so much to me."

The Prince's smile was very gentle as he watched the eager face of the other. The genuine anxiety of Ruxton appealed to him in a degree which was only reached out of his own deep regard. From any other such an appeal might have been met with ridicule. But in Ruxton it became something to be delighted in.

"Have your way," he cried cordially. "Do as you will, and I thank you from my heart for your solicitude. But it is needless. Believe me, it is needless."

But Ruxton ignored his comment. His sanction was all he needed.

"Thank you, sir," he said simply. "Have you given your man his orders for the submersible?"

The Prince glanced down at his letter unconsciously.

"No," he said; "not yet."

And Ruxton understood that his letter had decided the time of departure for him.