CHAPTER XXXII
THE GREEN CAR
The atmosphere still held the chill of early morning as Sandy emerged,vigorous and glowing and amazingly hungry, from his daily swim in thesea. He dressed quickly in a small tent erected on the shore and then,whistling cheerfully and with his towel slung over his shoulders, tookhis way up the beach to where his bicycle stood propped against aboulder.
A few minutes' pedalling brought him into St. Wennys, where hedismounted to buy a packet of "gaspers" dispensed by the villagepostmistress.
It was a quaint little village, typical of the West Country, with itsdouble row of small houses climbing the side of a steep hill capped atthe summit by an ancient church of weather-beaten stone. The brightJune sunshine winked against the panes, of the cottage windows andflickered down upon the knobby surface of the cobbled pavements, whilein the dust of the wide road an indiscriminate group of children anddogs played joyously together.
The warning hoot of a motor-horn sent them scuttling to the side of theroad, and, as Sandy smilingly watched the grubby little crowd's hastyflight for safety, a big green car shot by and was swiftly lost tosight in a cloud of whirling dust.
But not before Sandy's keen eyes had noted its occupants.
"Nan and the artist fellow!" he muttered.
Then, remembering that Nan had promised to go with him that afternoonfor a run in the "stink-pot," he stepped out into the middle of thestreet and stood staring up the broad white road along which the carhad disappeared--the great road which led to London.
An ominous foreboding knocked at the door of his mind.
Where was Nan going with Rooke--driving at reckless speed at this hourof the day on the way to London, when, according to arrangement, sheshould have been ready later on to adventure herself in the "stink-pot"?
Of course it was just possible she had only gone out for a morning spinwith Maryon and proposed returning in time to keep her appointment withhim. But the hour was an unusually early one at which to make a start,and the green car was ripping along at a pace which rather precludedthe idea of a pleasure jaunt.
Sandy was obsessed by a sense of misgiving that would not be denied.Wheeling his bicycle round, he mounted and headed straight for MallowCourt at break-neck speed.
He arrived to find Kitty composedly dividing her attention between herbreakfast and an illustrated paper, and for a moment he felt reassured.She jumped up and greeted him joyfully.
"Hullo, Sandy! Been down to bathe? Come along and have some breakfastwith me. Or have you had it already?"
He shook his head.
"No, I've not been home yet."
"Then you must be famished. I'll ring for another cup. I'm all alonein my glory. Barry and the Fentons departed yesterday on their fishingtrip, and Nan--"
"Yes. Where's Nan?" For the life of him he could not check the eagerquestion.
"She's gone off for the day with Maryon. He's driving her over toClovelly--she's never been there, you know."
Sandy's heart sank. He knew the quickest route from St. Wennys toClovelly--and the green car's nose had been set in quite a differentdirection.
"She's fixed up to go out with me this afternoon," he said slowly.
"Tch!" Kitty clicked her tongue sharply against her teeth and,crossing to the chimneypiece, took down a letter which, was restingthere. "I'd forgotten this! She left it to be given to you when youcalled for her this afternoon. I wanted her to 'phone and put you off,but she said you would understand when you'd read the letter and thatthere was something she wanted you to do for her."
Sandy ripped open the envelope and his eyes flew down the page. Itscontents struck him like a blow--none the less hard because it had beenvaguely anticipated--and a half-stifled exclamation broke from him.
"Sandy dear"--it ran--"I'm going to vanish out of your life, but we'vebeen such good pals that I can't do it without just a word of good-bye,not of justification--I know there's none for what I'm going to do.But I know, too, that there'll be a little pity in your heart for me,and that you, at least, will understand in a way why I've had to dothis, and won't blame me quite so much as the rest of the world. I'mgoing away with Maryon, and by this afternoon, when you come to fetchme for our motor spin, I shall have taken the first step on the newroad. Nothing you could have said would have altered my determination,so you need never think that, Sandy boy. I know your first impulsewill be to put the 'stink-pot' along at forty miles an hour in wildpursuit of me. But you can spare your petrol. Be very sure that evenif you overtook me, I shouldn't come back.
"I don't expect to find happiness, but life with Maryon can never bedull. There'd never be anything to occupy my mind at Trenby--exceptsoup jellies. So it would just go running round and round incircles--with the memory of all I've missed as the pivot of the circle.I'm sure Maryon will at least be able to stop me from thinking incircles. He's always flying off at a tangent--and naturally I shallhave to go flying after him.
"And now there's just one thing I want you still to do for me. _TellKitty_. I couldn't leave a letter for her, as it might have been foundalmost at once. You won't get this till you come over for me in theafternoon, and by that time Maryon and I shall be far enough away.Give Kitty all my love, and tell her I feel a beast to leave her likethis after her angel goodness to me. And say to her, too, that I willwrite very soon.
"Good-bye, Sandy boy."
"Well? Well?" Kitty's patience was getting exhausted. Moreover therewas something in the set look on Sandy's face that frightened her.
He handed her the letter.
"She's bolted with Maryon Rooke," he said simply.
When Kitty had absorbed the contents of the letter she looked up at himblankly. The shock of it held her momentarily speechless. Then, afterwhat seemed to her an endless silence, she stammered out:
"Nan--gone! And it's too late to stop her!"
"It's not!" The words leapt from Sandy's lips. "We _must_ stop her!"
The absolute determination in his voice infected Kitty. She felt hercourage rising to the emergency.
"What can we do?" she asked quietly. She was as steady as a rock now.
Sandy dropped into a chair, absent-mindedly lighting one of the"gaspers" he had so recently purchased.
"We must work it out," he said slowly. "Rooke told you they were goingto Clovelly, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Well, they're not going anywhere near. That was just a blind. Theytook the London road."
"Even that mightn't mean they were going to London. They could branchoff anywhere."
"They could," agreed Sandy, puffing thoughtfully at his cigarette."But we've got to remember Rooke has a house in Westminster--nicelittle backwater. It's just on the cards they might go therefirst--wherever else they intended going on to afterwards--just to pickup anything Rooke might want, arrange about letters and so on."
"Yes?" There was a keen light in Kitty's eyes. She was followingSandy's thought with all a woman's quickness. "And you think you mightovertake them there?"
"I must do more than that. I must _be there first_--to receive them."
"Can you do it in the time?"
"Yes. By train. They're travelling by car, remember."
Kitty glanced at the clock.
"It's too late for you to catch the early train from St. Wennys Halt.And there's no other till the afternoon."
"I shan't risk the afternoon train. It stops at every little waysidestation and if it were ten minutes late I'd miss the express fromExeter."
"Then you'll motor?"
"Yes, I'll drive to Exeter, and catch the train that gets in to townabout half-past seven. Maryon isn't likely to reach London till aboutan hour or so after that."
"That's settled, then. The next thing is breakfast for two," saidKitty practically. "I'd only just begun when you came, and I--I'llstart again to keep you company. You must be absolutely starving bynow."
She rang the bell and gave her orders t
o the servant who appeared inanswer.
"What about Aunt Eliza?" she went on when they were alone again. "I'll'phone her you're having breakfast here, shall I?"
"Yes. And, look here, we've got to make things appear quite ordinary.The mater knows I'm supposed to be taking Nan for a run this afternoon.You'd better say I'm coming straight back to fetch the car, as we'restarting earlier."
Kitty nodded and hurried off to the telephone.
"It's all right," she announced, when she returned. "Aunt Eliza tookit all in, and merely remarked that I spoilt you!" She succeeded insummoning up a faint smile.
"Then that coast's clear," said Sandy. "Who else? There's Roger.What shall you do if he comes over to-day?"
"He won't. Lady Gertrude had a heart attack yesterday, and as IsobelCarson's away, Roger, of course, has to stay with his mother. He'phoned Nan last night."
"I think that safeguards everything this end, then," replied Sandy,heaving a sigh of relief. "Allah is very good!"
After that, being a man with a long journey in front of him, hesensibly applied himself to the consumption of bacon and eggs, whileKitty, being a woman, made a poor attempt at swallowing a cup of tea.
Half an hour later he was ready to start for home.
"It's the slenderest chance, Kitty," he reminded, her gravely. "Theymay not go near London. . . . But it's the _only_ chance!"
"I know," she assented with equal gravity.
"And in any case I can't get her back here till the morning. . . .Good heavens!"--a new thought striking him. "What about the mater?She'll be scared stiff if I don't turn up in the evening! Probablyshe'll ring up the police, thinking we've had a smash-up in the car.That would settle everything!"
"Don't worry about it," urged Kitty. "I'll invent something--'phoneher later on to say you're stopping here for the night."
Sandy nodded soberly.
"That'll do it, and I'll--Oh, hang! What about your servants? They'lltalk."
"And I shall lie," replied Kitty valiantly. "Nan will be staying thenight with friends. . . . Each of you stopping just where youaren't!"--with a short strained laugh. "Oh, leave things to me at thisend! I'll manage, somehow. Only bring her back--bring her back,Sandy!"