the vanished messenger-第13章

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His　voice　was　pleasant；　and　he　had　the　easy　self…confidence　of　a
person　sure　of　himself　in　the　world。　　She　put　him　down　as　a　colonial
…　perhaps　an　American　…　but　his　rank　in　life　mystified　her。

〃This　seems　the　queerest　stretch　of　country；〃　he　went　on；　〃long
spits　of　sand　jutting　right　out　into　the　sea；　dikes　and　creeks
…　miles　and　miles　of　them。　　Now；　I　wonder；　is　it　low　tide　or　high？
　Low；　I　should　think；　because　of　the　sea…shine　on　the　sand　there。〃

She　glanced　out　of　the　window。

〃The　tide；〃　she　told　him；　〃is　almost　at　its　lowest。〃

〃You　live　in　this　neighbourhood；　perhaps？〃　he　enquired。

〃I　do；〃　she　assented。

〃Sort　of　country　one　might　get　very　fond　of；〃　he　ventured。

She　glanced　at　him　from　the　depths　of　her　grey　eyes。

〃Do　you　think　so？〃　she　rejoined　coldly。　　〃For　my　part；　I　hate　it。〃

He　was　surprised　at　the　unexpected　emphasis　of　her　tone　…　the　first
time；　indeed；　that　she　had　shown　any　signs　of　interest　in　the
conversation。

〃Kind　of　dull　I　suppose　you　find　it；〃　he　remarked　pensively；　looking
out　across　the　waste　of　lavender…grown　marshes；　sand　hummocks　piled
with　seaweed；　and　a　far　distant　line　of　pebbled　shore。　　〃And　yet；　I
don't　know。　　I　have　lived　by　the　sea　a　good　deal；　and　however
monotonous　it　may　seem　at　first；　there's　always　plenty　of　change；
really。　　Tide　and　wind　do　such　wonderful　work。〃

She；　too；　was　looking　out　now　towards　the　sea。

〃Oh；　it　isn't　exactly　that；〃　she　said　quietly。　　〃I　am　quite　willing
to　admit　what　all　the　tourists　and　chance　visitors　call　the
fascination　of　these　places。　　I　happen　to　dislike　them；　that　is　all。
Perhaps　it　is　because　I　live　here；　because　I　see　them　day　by　day；
perhaps　because　the　sight　of　them　and　the　thought　of　them　have
become　woven　into　my　life。〃

She　was　talking　half　to　herself。　　For　a　moment；　even　the　knowledge
of　his　presence　had　escaped　her。　　Hamel；　however；　did　not　realise
that　fact。　　He　welcomed　her　confidence　as　a　sign　of　relaxation　from
the　frigidity　of　her　earlier　demeanour。

〃That　seems　hard；〃　he　observed　sympathetically。　　〃It　seems　odd　to
hear　you　talk　like　that；　too。　　Your　life；　surely；　ought　to　be
pleasant　enough。〃

She　looked　away　from　the　sea　into　his　face。　　Although　the　genuine
interest　which　she　saw　there　and　the　kindly　expression　of　his　eyes
disarmed　annoyance；　she　still　stiffened　slightly。

〃Why　ought　it？。〃

The　question　was　a　little　bewildering。

〃Why；　because　you　are　young　and　a　girl；〃　he　replied。　　〃It's　natural
to　be　cheerful；　isn't　it？〃

〃Is　it？〃　she　answered　listlessly。　　〃I　cannot　tell。　　I　have　not　had
much　experience。〃

〃How　old　are　you？〃　he　asked　bluntly。

This　time　it　certainly　seemed　as　though　her　reply　would　contain
some　rebuke　for　his　curiosity。　　She　glanced　once　more　into　his
face；　however；　and　the　instinctive　desire　to　administer　that
well…deserved　snub　passed　away。　　He　was　so　obviously　interested；
his　question　was　asked　so　naturally；　that　its　spice　of
impertinence　was　as　though　it　had　not　existed。

〃I　am　twenty…one；〃　she　told　him。

〃And　how　long　have　you　lived　here？　　

〃Since　I　left　boarding…school；　four　years　ago。〃

〃Anywhere　near　where　I　am　going　to　bury　myself　for　a　time；　I　wonder？〃
he　went　on。

〃That　depends；〃　she　replied。　　〃Our　only　neighbours　are　the
Lorneybrookes　of　Market　Burnham。　　Are　you　going　there？〃

He　shook　his　head。

〃I've　got　a　little　shanty　of　my　own；〃　he　explained；　〃quite　close　to
St。　David's　Station。　　I've　never　even　seen　it　yet。〃

She　vouchsafed　some　slight　show　of　curiosity。

〃Where　is　this　shanty；　as　you　call　it？〃　she　asked　him。

〃I　really　haven't　the　faintest　idea；〃　he　replied。　　〃I　am　looking
for　it　now。　　All　I　can　tell　you　is　that　it　stands　just　out　of　reach
of　the　full　tides；　on　a　piece　of　rock；　dead　on　the　beach　and　about
a　mile　from　the　station。　　It　was　built　originally　for　a　coastguard
station　and　meant　to　hold　a　lifeboat；　but　they　found　they　could
never　launch　the　lifeboat　when　they　had　it；　so　the　man　to　whom　all
the　foreshore　and　most　of　the　land　around　here　belongs　…　a　Mr。
Fentolin；　I　believe　…　sold　it　to　my　father。　　I　expect　the　place　has
tumbled　to　pieces　by　this　time；　but　I　thought　I'd　have　a　look　at　it。〃

She　was　gazing　at　him　steadfastly　now；　with　parted　lips。

〃What　is　your　name？〃　she　demanded。

〃Richard　Hamel。〃

〃Hamel。〃

She　repeated　it　lingeringly。　　It　seemed　quite　unfamiliar。

〃Was　your　father　a　great　friend　of　Mr。　Fentolin's；　then？〃　she　asked。

〃I　believe　so；　in　a　sort　of　way；〃　he　answered。　　〃My　father　was　Hamel
the　artist；　you　know。　　They　made　him　an　R。A。　some　time　before　he
died。　　He　used　to　come　out　here　and　live　in　a　tent。　　Then　Mr。
Fentolin　let　him　use　this　place　and　finally　sold　it　to　him。　　My
father　used　often　to　speak　to　me　about　it　before　he　died。〃

〃Tell　me；〃　she　enquired；　〃I　do　not　know　much　about　these　matters；
but　have　you　any　papers　to　prove　that　it　was　sold　to　your　father
and　that　you　have　the　right　to　occupy　it　now　when　you　choose？〃

He　smiled。

〃Of　course　I　have；〃　he　assured　her。　　〃As　a　matter　of　fact；　as　none
of　us　have　been　here　for　so　long；　I　thought　I'd　better　bring　the
title…deed；　or　whatever　they　call　it；　along　with　me。　　It's　with　the
rest　of　my　traps　at　Norwich。　　Oh；　the　place　belongs　to　me；　right
enough！〃　he　went　on；　smiling。　　〃Don't　tell　me　that　any　one's　pulled
it　down；　or　that　it's　disappeared　from　the　face　of　the　earth？〃

〃No；〃　she　said；　〃it　still　remains　there。　　When　we　are　round　the　next
curve；　I　think　I　can　show　it　to　you。　　But　every　one　has　forgotten；
I　think；　that　it　doesn't　belong　to　Mr。　Fentolin　still。　　He　uses　it
himself　very　often。〃

〃What　for？〃

She　looked　at　her　questioner　quite　steadfastly；　quite　quietly；
speechlessly。　　A　curious　uneasiness　crept　into　his　thoughts。　　There
were　mysterious　tbings　in　her　face。　　He　knew　from　that　moment　that
she；　too；　directly　or　indirectly；　was　concerned　with　those　strange
happenings　at　which　Kinsley　had　hinted。　　He　knew　that　there　were
things　which　she　was　keeping　from　him　now。

〃Mr。　Fentolin　uses　one　of　the　rooms　as　a　studio。　　He　likes　to　paint
there　and　be　near　the　sea；〃　she　explained。　　〃But　for　the　rest；　I　do
not　know。　　I　never　go　near　the　place。〃

〃I　am　afraid；〃　he　remarked；　after　a　few　moments　of　silence；　〃that　I
shall　be　a　little　unpopular　with　Mr。　Fentolin。　　Perhaps　I　ought　to
have　written　first；　but　then；　of　course；　I　had　no　idea　that　any　one
was　making　use　of　the　place。〃

〃I　do　not　understand；〃　she　said；　〃how　you　can　possibly　expect　to
come　down　like　this　and　live　there；　without　any　preparation。〃

〃Why　not？　　〃

〃You　haven't　any　servants　nor　any　furniture　nor　things　to　cook　with。〃

He　laughed。

〃Oh！　I　am　an　old　campaigner；〃　he　assured　her。　　〃I　meant　to　pick　up
a　few　oddments　in　the　village。　　I　don't　suppose　I　shall　stay　very
long；　anyhow；　but　I　thought　I'd　like　to　have　a　look　at　the　place。
By…the…by；　what　sort　of　a　man　is　Mr。　Fentolin？〃

Again　there　was　that　curious　expression　in　her　eyes；　an　expression
almost　of　secret　terror；　this　time　not　wholly　concealed。　　He　could
have　sworn　that　her　hands　were　cold。

〃He　met　with　an　accident　many　years　ago；〃　she　said　slowly。　　〃Both
his　legs　were　amputated。　　He　spends　his　life　in　a　little　carriage
which　he　wheels　about　himself。〃

〃Poor　fellow！〃　Hamel　exclaimed；　with　a　strong　man's　ready　sympathy
for　suffering。　　〃That　is　just　as　much　as　I　have　heard　about　him。
Is　he　a　decent　sort　of　fellow　in　other　ways？　　I　suppose；　anyhow；
if　he　has　really　taken　a　fancy　to　my　little　shanty；　I　shall　have
to　give　it　up。〃

Then；　as　it　seemed　to　him；　for　the　first　time　real　life　leaped　into
her　face。　　She　leaned　towards　him。　　Her　tone　was　half　commanding；
half　imploring；　her　manner　entirely　confidential。

〃Don't！〃　she　begged。　　〃It　is　yours。　　Claim　it。　　Live　in　it。　　Do
anything　you　like　with　it；　but　take　it　away　from　Mr。　Fentolin！〃

Hamel　was　speechless。　　He　sat　a　little　forward；　a　hand　on　either
knee；　his　mouth　ungracefully　open；　an　expression　of　blank　and
utter　bewilderment　in　his　face。　　For　the　first　time　he　began　to
have　vague　doubts　concerning　this　young　lady。　　Everything　about
her　had　been　so　strange：　her　quiet　entrance　into　the　carriage；
her　unusual　manner　of　talking；　and　finally　this　last　passionate；
i