CHAPTER XXI.
Trouble
When Lorraine looked back upon those few warm days in July, she decidedthat they had contained more concentrated adventure than had beenprovided in the whole course of her life. Events seemed to followquickly one upon another.
On the day after her exciting experience at St. Cyr she went to schoolas usual. It was an effort to do so, for she was tired, but she had arecord for punctual attendance, and did not wish to break it unlessunder special compulsion. To her surprise, Claudia was absent. Shemissed her chum, and kept looking anxiously towards the door, expectingthe golden head to pop in at the eleventh hour. But nine o'clock and theroll-call came, and no sign of Claudia. Miss Turner marked her absent,and put back the book inside the desk. The girls took out their copiesof Moliere, in preparation for the French lesson. Miss Turner collectedsome papers from her desk, and walked away to instruct the Third Form onthe subject of Roman history. The Sixth sat with their books before themand waited. Under ordinary circumstances Madame Bertier was punctualitypersonified. She was generally in the schoolroom before Miss Turner madeher exit. What had happened to her to-day? At twenty minutes past nineMiss Janet entered, looking flurried.
"I fear Madame must be unwell, as she has not come or sent a note," sheexplained briefly. "You had better go on with your preparation and writeyour exercises. I suppose you know what to do next? Then get to work,and of course I put you on your honour as seniors to keep the silencerule."
Lorraine, sitting scribbling away at her desk, felt in no mood to breakthe rule by entering into conversation with either Dorothy or Audrey,who sat respectively to right and left of her. Her thoughts were faraway from the pen which was automatically writing her exercise. What hadbecome of Madame Bertier? Was her absence in any way connected with theevents of yesterday? That was the question which kept forcing itselfupon her brain. She wondered whether Miss Janet had ever harbouredsuspicions of the attractive Russian. She had never fallen under hersway so completely as her sister had done. Something in Miss Janet'sworried expression made Lorraine think her surmise a correct one.Lorraine's French grammar went to the winds that morning, and she wrotedown mistakes, which, in calmer moments, would have caused her toshudder.
At the eleven o'clock interval, Claudia walked into the cloak-room.Lorraine, who had come for her packet of lunch, greeted her withsurprised enthusiasm.
"Here you are at last! Why are you so late? I've simply loads to tellyou! Do you know that Madame Bertier's never turned up to-day?"
"Hasn't she?" said Claudia abstractedly. "I've loads to tell you too,Lorraine. Come into the garden; I don't want anyone to overhear."
When they were out of reach of the ears of prying juniors, Claudiacontinued:
"I'm in dreadful trouble; that's why I'm so late. Everything's gonewrong. Yesterday afternoon I had a telegram from Morland: 'Take parcelimmediately to the George'."
"That case that the officer lost? I always thought Morland ought to havegiven it back to him at once. Well! Did you go to the cave and fetchit?"
"I went," said Claudia slowly, "but, when I looked in the littlecupboard, it wasn't there."
"Not there!" Lorraine's tone was horror-stricken.
"No. I hunted all round the cave, but it had gone, absolutely."
"Great Scott! What are we to do?"
"I don't know. I telegraphed to Morland that it was lost. I hope hewon't get into trouble about it."
"I hope not." Lorraine's face was very grave.
"And to make things worse, Landry is ill in bed to-day. He's in one ofhis most fractious moods, and won't have anybody near him but me. I onlyran down to school for a few minutes to tell you that the dispatch caseis lost, then I must go back to him. I've explained to Miss Janet thathe's ill, and I have to nurse him. There's the bell, and you must go in.What a nuisance! Come and see me after four, if you can."
"I'll try. Good-bye till then."
Claudia and Lorraine hurried in opposite directions, the one home andthe other into school. Lorraine was in a ferment of emotion. Who couldpossibly have taken the pocket case? Some intruder must have discoveredtheir cave and have stolen it from the cupboard. Was it some chancetourist who had climbed up the rocks, or was it--could it be--MadameBertier?
Lorraine had always suspected that Morland had told her the secret ofthe grotto. What if she had gone there, found the officer's privatepapers, and made treasonable use of them? There were so many doubtfulepisodes in connection with her--the cut telephone wire; her meeting onthe shore with the man arrested only yesterday as a spy, who had claimedher portrait at the Academy as that of his wife.
"It looks bad!" thought Lorraine. "Oh, why didn't we persuade Morland togive that wretched case back at once to his captain? What will he dowhen he gets Claudia's telegram?"
The answer to this question came later on in the day. She was walkingback to school at a quarter past two that afternoon, when just by thewindmill she met Morland himself on a motor bicycle. He dismounted atonce.
"Lorraine! The very person in all the world I want to see. I say, I'mgoing to ask to leave the bike at the windmill here, then will you walkup the hill with me?"
"It's nearly school time!" demurred Lorraine.
"Hang school for once! I tell you I _must_ talk to you. I'm in the mostawful mess I've ever got into in my life. Is it true what Claudiatelegraphed? Is that pocket book really gone from the grotto?"
He spoke rapidly, catching his breath. Lorraine felt that, as in thecase of yesterday, school must yield to weightier matters. She could notdesert Morland now for the sake of a botany class. His business wasurgent.
"Leave your bike then, and I'll come," she consented.
So they walked up the hill together towards Windy Howe, and he pouredout his story.
"It seems there were most important papers in that pocket case," heconfided. "The captain's kicked up an awful shindy at losing them. He'sinquired and advertised, and put it into the hands of the police. Atfirst I was like Brer Rabbit, I just 'lay low and said nuffin', andchuckled to think I was leading him such a dance. Then one of the chapstold me he'd heard that a coast-guard at Porthkeverne had seen a Tommypicking something up on the road. I can tell you that made me sit up.I'd forgotten we were close to that wretched coast-guard station. Itwigged in a flash that I was in the greatest danger of discovery. Blakewould remember passing me on the moor. I stood aside and saluted. Therewas no other Tommy near. Lorraine, if they fix this on to me I shall becourt-martialled! I tell you I simply can't face it!"
It seemed indeed the most desperate problem with which they had everdealt. Unless the case were found, ruin stared Morland in the face.Captain Blake, strictest of martinets, would not be likely to overlookso grave an offence.
"How did you manage to come over here to-day?" asked Lorraine.
"Pitched it strong about urgent business and got a few extra hours off,borrowed a motor-bike and pelted here for all I was worth. I felt Ididn't care whether I broke my neck or not."
"Oh, Morland!"
"Well, I tell you I didn't! I rode part of the way at sixty miles anhour, and I whizzed down that long hill to St. Cyr simply like ahurricane. Look here, I don't want to show up at home for fear Dad orViolet ask questions. What's to be done?"
"Wait at the bottom of the orchard and I'll run up to the house andfetch Claudia. She's at home to-day nursing Landry, who's in bed."
"You mascot! The very thing!"
Leaving Morland sitting under the elder bushes by the orchard gate,Lorraine made her way into the garden, and, finding one of the numerouslittle Castletons playing about, despatched her with a message toClaudia. The latter came out at once, Lorraine explained hurriedly, andthe two girls, with some difficulty evading the curiosity of Beata,Romola and Madox, whisked down a side path into the orchard, and joinedMorland. They held a very agitated council of three under the elderbushes.
"Are you _certain_ the case isn't there?" urged Morland.
"Absolutely. I hunted for half an hou
r round the cave," declaredClaudia.
"Then who's taken it? If it's some chance tourist who's got it, it maybe returned."
Lorraine shook her head.
"I'm terribly afraid it's Madame Bertier. I believe she's mixed up in avery queer piece of business here. I want to tell you what happenedyesterday."
As Lorraine recounted her adventures at St. Cyr, and the connection ofthe foreigner, whom she had helped to identify, with the fascinatingRussian, Morland's face darkened.
"Great Heavens! Was the woman a spy after all?" he groaned. "It's thelimit! What an infernal ass I've been! If she's caught with those paperson her, and they're traced to me, I'm done for--once and for all! Lookhere, I'm going out to the cave to have one last hunt for the case. Itmight have slipped behind something. Will you girls come with me?"
"What's the use? I know we shan't find it," said Claudia. "Besides, Ican't leave Landry. He's in bed, and very troublesome. He talks rubbishthe whole time, mostly about you, Morland! He keeps suddenly laughingand saying he's stopped your going to the war, and isn't it clever ofhim, but he gets angry if I ask how, and shouts out that it's his secretand he won't tell me. Violet's fed up with him. I left her in his room,but if I'm not quick back, she'll be sending one of the children to huntfor me."
Morland rose hurriedly.
"I'd best scoot before the kids find me out. Lorraine, will you come?"
It seemed cruel to desert the poor boy at such a pinch, so Lorraineconsented, but by the time they had walked down the steep lane toPettington Church she changed her mind. At the lychgate she stopped.
"I'm so tired to-day, Morland! I don't think I _can_ trudge all that wayto Tangy Point! Time's important, and you'll walk so much faster withoutme. You hurry on, and I'll wait for you here."
"Right oh! I'm a selfish beast to ask you to go. Good-bye, old girl! IfI don't find that case, perhaps you'll never see me again!"
"Morland! Morland!" called Lorraine.
But his khaki-clad figure was already tearing along the steep track upthe cliff, and he did not look round. In another moment he had vanishedbehind a turn of the rocks.
Lorraine sank down on the seat inside the lychgate. She felt mean atnot walking with him, but the afternoon was sultry and hot, and she wasvery tired after her yesterday's adventures. She knew that he had goneon a fruitless errand, and that, though it might satisfy him to look onhis own account, he would certainly not find the missing pocket-caseinside the cave.
"Oh! why didn't I make a stand at the time, and insist on his giving itback to Captain Blake at once!" she fretted. "I wish I'd more strengthof mind! I was a weak jelly-fish. He'd have done it if I'd held outmore. What's going to happen now, goodness only knows! When he sees thatthe case really isn't there, I'm afraid he'll do something reallydesperate, run away, or jump into the sea, or anything. It's the worstfix I've ever been in, in all my life. Could I take the blame on myself?It was as much my fault as his. I'm certainly what would be called anaccomplice. I wish I could ask Detective Scott about it, but I daren't.Morland might be arrested, like that spy. Oh! it's too horrible to thinkhe may be court-martialled! Will they put him in prison? Shoot him,even?"
Lorraine's notions of military discipline were hazy, but she knew thatthe keeping back of important papers was an offence of the utmostseriousness, and that if they had fallen into the hands of a spy itmight mean a charge of treason. Wild visions of saving Morland at anycost floated through her mind. She felt almost prepared to give herselfup to the police and make a confession. Yet how could she do so withoutinvolving her friends? She would certainly be asked if she had picked upthe case herself, and why she had not returned it immediately to itsowner. What would she answer?
"They'd have it all out of me in five minutes when they begancross-questioning, and I should only land Morland in a worse mess thanever," she decided gloomily. "Could Uncle Barton help, I wonder? No, asa special constable he'd be bound to give information. He's no more usethan Detective Scott!"
Lorraine sighed, and moved farther along the seat into the shade. It wasa broiling afternoon. The sun was pouring down on the grey tower of thelittle church, and on the mildewed grave stones and the bushes ofrosemary and lavender, and the box edging that led to the Normandoorway. A rambler rose rioted over the railings of a monument; itscrimson trusses of blossom veiled the broken urn inside. Over the wallthe green cliff-side stood out against the gleaming sea. Bees werehumming under the archway of the roof. Some swallows scintillated bywith gleaming wings. Not a soul was near. She was alone with thesunshine and the birds and the flowers. There flashed across her astrong memory of the day when she and Claudia and Morland had takentheir first walk to the cave, and had stopped to look at the church--theForsaken Merman Church, as Claudia always called it. How happy they hadbeen then, with no terrible shadow hanging over them! She could almosthear Claudia's voice quoting the poem:--
"From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold blowing airs."
It was just the opposite now, for she sat without in the heat, andthere was nobody inside saying prayers. The door stood open--not shut.Something urged her to enter--some impulse so strong and so overpoweringthat instinctively she rose and walked up the little path between thelines of box edging. It was almost as if an invisible hand led her on,under the groined porch and through the carved Norman doorway. How cooland peaceful it was inside, in the soft, diffused golden light fallingon the sandstone pillars through the saint-filled windows.
Though no service was in progress, she had a sense that the prayers ofmany generations lingered in the place, and made it holy. The haloedsaints in the east window smiled down at her with calm eyes. Had theyever been in trouble as she was to-day? In their white robes and withpalms in their hands, they looked so infinitely removed from thetwentieth century. Yet their own times must have seemed absolutelymodern to them. There was nothing in their lives which could not be alsoin ours. The same All-Father who gave them that perfect peace could giveit surely to us.
In the dim shadow of the chancel she dropped on her knees andprayed--not a stilted, formal prayer, but a sort of intense, white-hot,wordless passion of entreaty for that bright-haired boy whose life wasgoing so wrong.
As she rose to her feet again her eyes fell on the carved oakbalustrade of the gallery at the west end. It was the place where Landryhad been wont to sit and listen when Morland played the organ. She couldalmost see him now, with his parted lips and far-away blue eyes, and thesunlight from the window behind making a halo of his hair. She wonderedhow the church looked from his vantage point. She had never been intothe gallery. She walked slowly down the nave and up the dusty,worm-eaten flight of stairs into the cobwebby regions above. There was alow bench facing the balustrade. She moved along it, and sat down inLandry's seat. There was no dreamy, haunting music to-day from theorgan, filling the church like the murmur of the sea. Morland hadsterner work to do in the world now than to improvise nocturnes. Howrapt his face had been as the grand harmonies came thrilling from hisfingers! Was this the exact angle from which Landry had viewed him? Shemoved slightly farther along, and in doing so kicked some object withher foot. She stooped to pick it up. It was something quite small, andcovered with dust. She held it up to look at it by the light from thewindow. Then, with a little gasping sob, she fell back on to the seat.
It was nothing more nor less than the lost pocket-case.
Landry! They had never thought of Landry! He had been with them in thecave when they hid it inside the cupboard. Lorraine remembered now howhe had made confused reference to papers and Morland going to the war,and how Claudia had soothed him, and told him to pick shells on thebeach. Without doubt he must have taken the case with some dazed beliefthat by so doing he was hindering the authorities from sending hisbrother to the front. Perhaps that was the mysterious secret he wasbabbling about in bed to-day. The case might have lain for months in thedust, if Lorraine had not chanced to come into the gallery thisafternoon. Chanced!
There was no such thing as chance! Surely it was theanswer to that intense, voiceless thought-wave of prayer, in which hergroping spirit had for a moment soared into a higher plane and touchedthe fringes of the eternal world.
Morland was saved--saved from the shadow of a terrible disgrace. Shemust let him know at once, for by this time he must have reached thecave and ransacked it in vain. Suppose in his despair he were to carryout his threat and never return! The horror of the thought sent Lorrainetearing down the gallery steps and out into the sunshine. She mustfollow Morland and find him and tell him. She was rested now, and thewalk would seem nothing. Besides, it was cooler, and a breeze had sprungup from the sea. When the heart is light our feet seem literally todance along. The distance to Tangy Point to-day seemed halved. Sheclimbed down the steep little track from the cairn on to the shore.Seated on a rock below the cave was a depressed-looking figure in khaki.Morland did not stir till she came near, then he rose with a haggardface and wild eyes.
"Lorraine, it's all U P with me!" he said breathlessly.
But for answer she waved the pocket-case.
They decided on the way home that the safest and wisest plan was to makeit into a parcel, address it to Captain Blake at the Camp, and post itto him from Porthkeverne. He would receive it the next morning, andwould probably be satisfied and make no more enquiries as to who hadfound it and forwarded it.
"So it wasn't Madame Bertier who took it after all!" commented Lorraine.
"No," said Morland thoughtfully. "But I believe she would have done itif she'd had the chance. I've had my eyes opened to-day. I've been afool, Lorraine. I'm going to start a fresh page, and try to be worthy ofmy best friends. I simply can't express what I owe you. You're the sortof girl that keeps a fellow straight--some women send them on the rocks.When I think of you, I think of everything that is true and good."
"I'm not much to boast of, I'm afraid," said Lorraine humbly, "but I'mtrying--trying hard, like many other people who are a great deal better,and nicer, and sweeter tempered than I am."