CHAPTER XXVI
RUXTON WINS A TRICK
It was the close of a long and busy day for both of them, and fatherand son, in the interim preceding dinner, under a bright moon, pacedtogether the broad stone paths of the formal terrace gardens of DorbyTowers. For Ruxton the confined spaces of the house were suffocating.His nerves were on edge. His father, with the calm philosophy of hisyears, merely sought the fresh air which the work in his office deniedhim, even though it possessed the damp chill of an English autumn night.
"Anybody else besides Caistor coming for the week-end?" Sir Andrew'ssidelong glance was penetrating.
"Lordburgh and Reginald Steele. There will be others--whom they maychoose to bring."
His father's scrutiny was lost upon Ruxton, who seemed to have littleinclination to talk. His interest in the week-end gathering seemed ofthe slightest.
"Well, Caistor and Steele will find plenty to interest them," SirAndrew went on. "Lordburgh will probably content himself with the golflinks."
"Lordburgh will spend his time at the yards," Ruxton said. Then hedisplayed an increased interest. "He's a Foreign Secretary who seesfurther than mere international policies. He's a man who believes thatan adequate foreign policy can only be built on the foundations of asound internal economic basis. Caistor and Steele are armament men ofdiverging opinions. Caistor pins his faith to weight of metal insurface craft, while Steele places the submarine before the heaviestguns. Both have sound enough reasoning, but, as I said, they arearmament men. They cannot conceive that a non-military defence can everoffer sound possibilities. Both have been shaken up by the mercantilesubmersible project. But I think Lordburgh is the more impressed by it."
"I should have preferred their coming next week," Sir Andrew went on, alittle wearily. "We should be under full work then. We are nearly clearnow, and the naval mechanics are replacing the civil men next week.It's been hard work for us all. I shall be glad when everything hassettled down again."
Ruxton glanced round at the speaker. There was a flash of anxiety inhis eyes. It was the first time he had ever heard his father complainof the arduous nature of his work. A wave of contrition swept over him.
"I feel I've left too much on your shoulders, Dad," he exclaimed. "I'mafraid I've been very selfish. I've burdened you with theresponsibility of this thing, and given you no support. Somehow, Inever thought--and you have never complained."
"Tut, tut, boy," his father retorted, in his gruff, hearty way. "I haveyet to learn that I am too old for my work. It's work I've been bornand bred to. Without it I should be a decaying man. Don't think of it.Your work is far more responsible, far more harassing. You are amongthose active thinkers whose life's work is the welfare of our country.Leave me to Dorby. Mark out the work you demand from me, and restassured it will be thoroughly carried out. I haven't the imaginativebrain that sees into the future and formulates plans whereby thatfuture may be safeguarded. But I can build any fleet you canplan--single-handed."
There was pride and admiration in the smile with which Ruxton listenedto his father's words. But the man was serious. He knew hislimitations, and he also knew his capacity. Besides, he had nointention of admitting the strain of the work in hand.
Ruxton shook his head.
"I'm not even doing that, Dad," he protested. "My time's given up toother affairs. I've simply abandoned everything for one selfishpurpose."
Again came his father's sidelong glance.
"Selfish?"
"Yes; Vita. I must find her. I must help her. I must unravel themystery of it all, or--what is the use of all that I had hoped toachieve? Dad, I no longer blind myself. I have only just awakened tolife. All the hopes and longings of the past belong to a time when Istill remained slumbering to the real meaning of life. Now, comparedwith the meaning of life which I have just awakened to, they are merecold, meaningless products of the brain. They are nothing, simplynothing to this new vista which has just opened out to me. I doubt ifyou'll understand, if any one can understand but myself."
"No?" There was that twinkling smile in the old man's eyes.
"No. There is only one thought in me now. I must save Vita; I must saveVita from our enemies. Perhaps, even, I must save her from herself. Howcan I expect any one to understand all it means to me, how absurd seemall those other things which I had counted as vital?"
"And yet I loved your mother."
Ruxton walked on a few steps without reply. A flush had mounted to hishandsome cheeks. Then he abruptly paused, and in the depths of his eyeswas a shamefaced smile.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he cried. "Forgive the egoism of a man--in love."
His father's smiling eyes were full of a deep sympathy.
"No, no, boy; no apologies. You are no different from the rest of us.We all feel the same at some time in our lives, and we all believe noone else has ever felt as we do. Work out your plans, boy. ForgetDorby; forget everything else for the time. Give your whole heart andtime to straightening out the tangle your love affairs seem to be in.And when you have succeeded, bring her to me. For the rest, I am yourdeputy in the work which must still go on; and, believe me, I shall notfail you. There goes the gong."
The deep note of the gong seemed to rise out of its metal bowels; itcrescendoed, and finally died away. The two men passed silently intothe house and removed their light overcoats. Ruxton's emotion was toodeep for words. His father's sympathy and loyalty were almostoverpowering to a nature as sensitive as his. He wanted to tell him allhe felt. He wanted to pour out his gratitude. He wanted to show himsomething of the great love he had always borne him. But it wasimpossible. He did none of these things because they were men--men of atemperament and schooling that made such a display impossible. So, insilence, they prepared to make their way to the dining-room.
But affairs were busier than either of them knew. In a very few minutesevery other emotion became lost in the surge of events.
Just as they were about to leave the hall a man-servant appeared fromthe direction of the servants' quarters. He was about to passup-stairs, bearing a tray. The quick eyes of Sir Andrew observed thepile of letters he was carrying up to the library. Without regard forthe moment he stayed him.
"Is that the post just in?" he demanded.
The man promptly returned.
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, let me see."
The letters were divided into two small piles: those that wereaddressed to Sir Andrew, and those for his son. Sir Andrew picked hisup. He glanced at the superscription on each envelope, and dealt themback on the tray as though he were dealing playing-cards. At the lastone he paused. It was the largest envelope.
"That will do," he said, and glanced across at Ruxton as the man passedon up the staircase.
He tore the envelope open and stood with the contents of it poised inhis hand.
"Ruxton."
The younger man turned from the fireplace. His eyes were expectant. Hisfather's tone had been sharp.
"Yes."
"You'd better deal with this." He handed him the lesser envelope, whichhad been enclosed in the other.
Ruxton took it and glanced at it. His father's eyes were watching himclosely; they were twinkling.
"It is tempting, eh?"
Ruxton shook his head.
"But Vita trusts us," he said simply.
Once again Ruxton found himself looking into the wide eyes andremarkable face of Prince von Hertzwohl. With the simple courtesy whichwas so much a part of him, the latter had thrust his guest into theonly chair his uninviting quarters afforded. For himself, he was morethan content with the doubtful flock bed, with its frowsy patchworkquilt. The chair creaked under Ruxton's weight, but he said no word. Hewas waiting, waiting while the other read the letter he had just putinto his hands.
Ruxton was disguised in a suit of clothes that left nothing to bedesired. Mrs. Clark, the landlady, could have possessed no doubts as tohis calling. She knew the type of mechanic too well. Von Hertzwohl wasstill arrayed in his work-soiled suit
, which his intellectual featuresdenied as the yellow lamp-rays fell upon them. Ruxton's outward seemingwas calm, but inwardly his active thoughts were teeming. Theopportunity which otherwise must have been made had been afforded himwithout his personal effort. He knew that the crisis in all his planshad arrived. It was for him to turn the course of affairs in his ownfavor, or accept almost certain defeat. So he waited, coordinatingevery mental force he could make available.
It was a serious, almost pathetic pair of eyes which were at lastraised from the letter, which was in Vita's handwriting. There wassomething almost like dismay in their wide depths as they encounteredthe steady gaze of Ruxton's. It was a moment of graveembarrassment--but only for Von Hertzwohl. He felt like a man huntedbefore the gaze of the younger man's dark eyes.
But Ruxton had no desire to discompose him. His mind was clear, hiscourse marked out. He saw with perfect understanding the only road bywhich he could achieve his end. The night when, in the midst of all hisdoubts 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 itwas obviously directed towards secrecy to which he must not beadmitted. His hope lay in admitting its inviolability.
"I want you to listen to me, Prince, for some moments," he began atonce. "I have one or two things to put before you, simply andstraightforwardly. In doing so I want you to realize my motive. I havetold you, her father, of my love for Vita. That love burns as deeply inmy soul for her now as it has done ever since I first met her. I wantyou to know that I am fighting for that love now, that I shall continueto 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 directdismissal. This is my motive, simple and honest. I have not come hereto ask you the contents of your letter from her. I do not want to knowthem. I have not come here to press you in any direction which yourhonor, your loyalty to your daughter denies. I have come here to tellyou 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 embarrassment in the deep, shining eyes beneath the shaggy greybrows was growing. To Ruxton they were almost a child's eyes, so simpleand earnest, and so full of unconcealed trouble.
"It is an ominous prelude," the Pole replied, with a poor attempt at asmile.
"But not so ominous as the _denouement_ which, I fear, is likely tocome when you attempt to leave these shores."
Ruxton's retort came with a quiet emphasis and directness whichcompletely took the other aback.
"I do not see---- Is that a threat, Mr. Farlow?" All the childliketrouble had vanished from the man's luminous eyes. They were shiningwith 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 thereinterest 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 myline of argument upon you, because it is less argument than conviction.I can only tell you those things which I know, and assure you of myconviction."
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 haswritten them, but she has not written them from Redwithy. That I canswear to. Vita has not been near Redwithy since the day of your arrivalhere."
"And that is--true?"
There was a slight change in the Prince's manner, but it was anundefinable change.
"I will stake my honor upon it. Now," Ruxton went on after a fractionalpause, "let us leave that. It could be explained--if for someinscrutable 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 hadpromised ardently to be my wife, waiting, in a fever of apprehension,for a message from me of your safe arrival. That message was promptlysent, and it reached Redwithy. But before it arrived Vita had left herhome with her maid, Francella, in a strange motorcar, for a destinationunnamed. And yet in a perfect fever of anxiety she had been awaitingthat message. One moment," as the old man, with eyes wide withastonishment, was about to break in. "When I arrived at Redwithy thatmessage was lying amongst a pile of correspondence, all of which hadbeen secretly opened and re-sealed. Would Vita have arranged for thateven if she wished to avoid me? Would she not simply have written me anote 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 wishto know them. But they prove she is aware of your safe arrival. And Ijudge they are urging you to leave the country, since you expressed noidea of doing so till you received the first letter. Now, sir, one lastword and I have told you all I know and all I believe. Either thoseletters are forgeries or they are written by Vita under pressure. Vitais aware you are here at Dorby. Therefore she has been told, for I donot believe she has seen my message. She has communicated with you bythe only means either she or any one else could think of--through myfather. She does not know where you are, so she cannot be forced tobetray you. But she can be forced to decoy you, or you can be decoyedin her name. Prince, a trick is being played--a clever trick; and myconviction of it is all the greater, since I would stake my life onVita's loyalty to you--and to me."
The Prince remained silent for some moments. Ruxton had risen from hisprotesting chair and moved across the room. He refrained from evenglancing in the old man's direction. He wanted him to have time. Hewanted to exercise no moral influence by appearing to await urgentlyhis reply.
He had outlined the plain facts without studied effect. The wholepurpose of his visit was still to be achieved.
He turned at last and came back to his chair as the other cleared histhroat.
"There is sense--common sense in what you say." The big eyes of the manwere clear and luminous, but they were not looking at his visitor. Theywere gazing at the oil-lamp on the table. "But you have not read Vita'sletters, or you would see that much of your statement becomesimpossible. I have not the right to show you those letters, thereforeyou must accept, or not, what I say. I assure you if there is a trick,or plot, it is so deeply laid that Vita cannot see it; and, in view ofher letters, neither can I. Had I not received her letters I could haveaccepted your beliefs, but those letters put the idea beyondpossibility. Mr. Farlow, I am sorry. I could think of no greaterdelight, 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, thenI can only say I regret more deeply than you can ever dream. All youhave done, and are doing, and have dared in my interests have endearedyou to an old man's heart just as surely as though you were my son. Itis only very, very rarely that men meet _men_. In you and your father Ihave been doubly fortunate. Will you believe me when I say it? But forthe rest it is not for me to decide. Your love for my daughter Irealize is deep and sincere. It is for you two to settle it. But thatshe is in the hands of our enemies I truly and sensibly cannot believe.I assure you there is no hint of it in her letters. One final word. Youfear that I am running headlong into a trap. Do not fear for me. I havenone. 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 loyaltyand courage, came without any shock or disappointment to the other. Nota muscle of his strong face moved. Nor was there a shadow of changefrom 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 attitude 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. VonHertzwohl had spoken the truth when he said that his regard for Ruxtonhad 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. "Itis best so. Best for our work; for you; for--Vita. Ach! I would like totell you all I have in here"--he tapped his broad brow with aforefinger. "But I cannot. I may not. Dorby has been a haven to me, andI longed to be near and witness the growth of that work which is tomake impossible the vile cruelty of men, all the horrors of anindefensible slaughter. I told myself I would sit here and see my dreamslowly, step by step, fulfilled. I said that you and your father werethe laboring genius setting up the defence which was to serve humanityin the days to come. And in the pride and joy of my heart I told myselfthat mine was the brain that had conceived this merciful weapon, whichI should watch grow to its final triumph. But now I know that it is notso. I may not witness the triumph of my labor here, where it is to beachieved. 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 shining beneath the shaggy white brows weresmiling and full of a boyish delight at the thought of adventure. "Showme. How can it be otherwise? Have we not held the secret of ourlanding? Who is to know the secrets of our cove? The tides--is there aTeuton spy who would face the entrance of that cove and believe that itis free to us to enter or leave it at will? No one would believe itcould serve a landing."
"No. And you will go that way?"
"Yes. I shall leave on Sunday night. The tide will serve us athalf-past six. It is then dark."
The old man's spirits were rising at the thought of cheating hisenemies. His eyes were full of guileless delight. Ruxton was regardinghim 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 theobstinate English in you. Yes, yes. That temperament. You bite hard andwill not let go. So."
But Ruxton suddenly bestirred himself. He passed the simple levity ofthe other by. His eyes had become serious.
"Look at it my way, sir," he said in a deep, urgent tone. "I have toldyou all I feel and fear. Suppose it was my own father, for some day Ihope and believe you will become my other father. Can you not see allit means to me--your safety? I feel you are my trust, and I dare notrisk unduly. Will you grant me a favor, sir--a trifling favor from yourpoint of view? Allow me to take such measures to safeguard your goingas I see fit. You shall not be made aware of that safeguarding, Ipromise you--except in case of the treachery I anticipate. I shall notinterfere with any plan you may have made. I will, as our naval mensay, 'carry on' and 'stand by,' unseen by you and by ourenemies--unless danger threatens you. It is not much to ask, and itmeans so much to me."
The Prince's smile was very gentle as he watched the eager face of theother. The genuine anxiety of Ruxton appealed to him in a degree whichwas only reached out of his own deep regard. From any other such anappeal might have been met with ridicule. But in Ruxton it becamesomething to be delighted in.
"Have your way," he cried cordially. "Do as you will, and I thank youfrom my heart for your solicitude. But it is needless. Believe me, itis needless."
But Ruxton ignored his comment. His sanction was all he needed.
"Thank you, sir," he said simply. "Have you given your man his ordersfor 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 departurefor him.
"May I convey them, Prince?"
"Why?" The smiling eyes were keenly questioning.
Ruxton laughed.
"Because I would like to make a small arrangement with him, which willin no way interfere with any orders you may give him."
"I see." The Prince was silent for some moments, pondering deeply.Then, quite abruptly, he seemed to reach a decision. "Yes," he said atlast, "I will send him his orders in writing, with permission toreceive certain instructions from you. But my orders must be obeyedimplicitly. Remember that. You must not change them in one singledetail. Your word of honor, and I will thank you for conveying them."
"My word of honor," said Ruxton solemnly.