Part 6

Mr. Field fared no better with the earl. A few cold words of welcome in response to the effusive greeting bestowed upon him by the millionaire, and Lord Monfort turned away to escort a new-comer to his wife's stall. It was pleasant, however, to feel that in spite of it all, he was undoubtedly considered a person of importance at the sale. Fair ladies crowded round to persuade him to buy absolutely useless things at utterly exorbitant prices, and his circuit of the hall was a sort of triumphal progress, delightful while it lasted, but leaving him somewhat exhausted at the close.

He had other business in Westmarket besides his social duties, which detained him there some hours, but he returned to the bazaar to have a cup of tea before leaving the town. He was resting comfortably in the refreshment marquee, enjoying the band, when a sudden drop in the music caused the voice of someone sitting at a distant table to resound distinctly across the room. Mr. Field would not have noticed his companions, had he not happened to look up hastily and so caught the eye of a young man, one of the group, who was facing him. He recognized him as the countess's nephew, and saw him give a quick sign to his friend to cease speaking, but not before a few isolated remarks had reached the listener's ear. He could not follow the whole sentence, but he was sure he heard the name of Judge Simmons mentioned in connection with a certain money affair. There was no doubt about the concluding words--"distinctly shady"--for the band stopped suddenly as they were uttered, and there was nothing to veil the unpleasant insinuation of the phrase.

"What possible reason could that young fellow have had in checking his companion when he saw me, unless it was because I was the subject of their conversation, and they did not want me to hear?" So he mused as he absently stirred his tea.

The band struck up once more, but to Mr. Field the music this time sounded intolerably harsh and grating. The jingle of the tune set his teeth on edge, and he felt he could endure it no longer. It was a relief when the crowded hall was left behind, and he felt the cool air again upon his brow.

It was nearly four o'clock now and the day was closing in. Heavy clouds were massed over the sea, looking black and thundery, and the dust blew in fitful eddies around.

"I think we're driving into a storm, sir," said the chauffeur.

The simple words jarred strangely on Mr. Field.

"Don't speak till you're spoken to," he snapped. "What you have got to do is to attend to your business and not make remarks about the weather."

At that moment the motor reached a steep part of the last hill, necessitating dropping into a lower gear. The chauffeur, irritated by the uncourteous taunt, plied pedal and lever with quite uncalled-for vehemence. There was a harsh grinding sound and the car stopped with a sudden jerk.

"It's no use, sir," he said, after a few moments tinkering at the machinery. "The gears are jambed and she won't move an inch. I'm afraid I'll have to get her towed home."

"Not here a fortnight, and you've broken the car already," exclaimed Mr. Field, his fury rising to boiling-point as he realized that he should have to yield to the inevitable and walk ignominiously back to Farncourt. "I give you warning on the spot, and no character; so you may leave when you choose."

Discarding his fur coat as too heavy, he turned his back on the damaged vehicle and set out upon the way home.

"Driving into a storm!" he repeated to himself as he plodded along the road. "I only hope not. If I was superstitious I should call it a horribly bad omen. Curious how nervous I feel to-day! It surely must be something in the air. But bad gales have been weathered before now, and I think I'm pretty safe, considering all things. I confess it was a nasty shock when Ben Green first turned up, but he evidently knows very little, or he would have had me in a hole long ago. There is no one else I need fear. I fancied Simmons had a queer look in his eye that day I saw him at the Abbey, but he's powerless to do any real harm. Even if he raked up unpleasant questions about the papers, not a soul was witness of what led up to it all. That is a secret known to no one in the wide world but myself. The past is too deeply buried by this time for any spectres to rise from the grave now."

As he spoke, a peal of thunder reverberated forth, so unexpectedly that it caused him to give an involuntary start.

"I shall take the short cut through the wood," he said, "and I must be quick about it, for it's looking rather bad all round."

The sky was becoming more and more threatening every moment, and darkness seemed to descend almost at once upon the land. Mr. Field shivered as the air grew chill, and regretted the warm garment he had left behind in the car.

"I'm feeling out of sorts," he added. "Those silly remarks at the bazaar upset me a good deal, though there is really no need for me to mind. I wish, however, I hadn't come by the wood, especially as I seem to have lost the right path, and wandered rather out of my way. It is eerie all by myself in the gloom, with such a tempest brewing too. Bother! There's the rain!" he exclaimed, as two or three big drops splashed against his face.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, revealing to his anxious gaze the rough hut which the boys had constructed with so much care, and which stood only a few paces from the narrow track.

"A woodman's shed, I suppose," he said. "I may as well take refuge inside, for it looks as if there was going to be a regular deluge."

He was right. Down came the rain, pattering loudly on the crisp autumn leaves, first with a sort of measured beat, then more rapidly, as if driven fiercely by an ever-compelling force from behind. Suddenly with a mighty rush, it seemed as though the cloud had burst overhead, and hissing torrents poured in straight unbroken lines from the clouds.

The little house was empty, and Mr. Field stood looking out of the door, while the lightning played about the tops of the trees, illuminating the depths of the dark copse as with the brightness of day. His was not a brave nature at the best, and the scene was terrific enough to strike awe into the heart of a bolder man than he claimed to be. He withdrew further into the shed, as the thunder continued to roll above him in long deafening crashes.

"Who is it says that thunder is the voice of the Almighty?" he muttered. "It is in the Bible, I believe. It sounds awful enough for anything."

Just then a flash of more than usually vivid character lit up the interior of the shelter, and to Mr. Field's consternation, words of fire appeared to blaze out before his eyes. For a moment, to his excited imagination it seemed like the writing on the wall at Belshazzar's feast. Could this be the Hand as well as the Voice of God?

It was the text which Robin had pinned up inside the hut--

"THE EYES OF THE LORD ARE IN EVERY PLACE, BEHOLDING THE EVIL AND THE GOOD."

It came like a message from an unseen Power, an answer to the thoughts which had so lately filled his mind, and the words burnt into his very soul.

"In every place--in every place. Beholding the evil--beholding the evil."

The sentence echoed through his brain until he could bear it no longer.

"Will that verse never cease to haunt me?" he exclaimed. "Is there truly a Witness in Heaven Who sees all--all--and Who can, when He wills, bring even our hidden sins into the light?"

He made as though he would leave the hut, when suddenly to his horrified gaze, a second flash revealed a pale emaciated face peering in through the door.

With a loud cry, Mr. Field rushed at the opening, and with superhuman strength hurled the apparition from him as he dashed past.

A dark form fell heavily into the bushes, but he stayed not to see. Scrambling, falling in the inky blackness, he at last gained the edge of the wood--how, he never knew. Drenched to the skin and with his eyes staring wildly before him, he reached his home. Speechless and trembling, he passed his astonished butler on the stairs, and paused not till he had locked himself into the safety of his own room.

There, at length, he was able to regain his composure, and think more calmly of the events of the preceding hour.

*CHAPTER XI*

*The Treacherous Shore*

It was about seven o'clock when a tap came at Mr. Field's door.

"Is that you, Burns?" was the response from within. "I am not feeling very well this evening, so I shall not come downstairs to dinner. You can bring me up something on a tray."

"Very good, sir," replied the butler, "but I wanted to ask you about master Julius. He has not been home all day, and we don't know where he's gone."

"Not been home all day," exclaimed Mr. Field, unlocking the door. "Surely with a houseful of servants you might have looked better after the boy than that."

Burns was relieved to find that his master appeared more like himself than when he had last encountered him, though still strangely perturbed, as if he had recently undergone some severe shock.

"Master Julius never turned up all the morning," answered Burns, "so we came to the conclusion that you must have met him as you were going down the drive, and taken him on with you to Westmarket. The chauffeur has only now returned with the car, and he says master Julius never accompanied you at all, so we thought it better to come and tell you at once."

Messengers were sent out to make enquiries whether the lad had been seen by anyone during the day, but neither garden, stables, nor farm could contribute even the slightest clue to his movements.

Mr. Field was standing in the hall making arrangements to send search-parties in other directions, when there was a ring at the bell, and a lady was ushered in. She was dripping wet, and the light veil over her head clung closely round her troubled and agitated face.

"I must apologize for intruding in this manner," she said, "but I am dreadfully anxious about my little boy. He and your son left me about two o'clock, and I have seen neither of them since. I hoped he might have taken shelter here from the storm, so I just came up to see."

"It is Mrs. Power, sir, from Sea View Cottage," explained the butler, in answer to Mr. Field's mystified look. "I believe master Julius often goes to play with the young gentleman."

"The impertinent rascal sets all my commands at defiance, it appears," was the angry reply. "It is directly against my wishes, madam, that Julius has made your acquaintance, and I have not the slightest notion where either of the two lads have gone. Your son is certainly not here, and neither is mine, for that matter."

"It is a dreadful night for anybody to be out," said Mrs. Power. "I could scarcely battle against the wind and rain as I came along. The lightning has ceased, but there is a regular hurricane blowing from the sea. Robin would not willingly keep me in suspense, as he knows how disturbed I should be, and I can't help fearing some accident may have happened to them both."

All at once Mr. Field's heart seemed to well up with a sudden rush of fatherly love, such as he had not experienced for years. He had allowed such a thick crust of ambition and avarice to overgrow the softer qualities of his character, that they had been well-nigh extinguished.

"What would all my wealth be without my little lad?" was the thought that flashed across him as Mrs. Power spoke, and an agony of apprehension filled his mind. "We must rouse the place at once," he said aloud, "and I will turn out all my men. Surely it can't be long before we discover the runaways."

The wood was thoroughly searched first, but with no result, and every cottage in the village was applied to, but all in vain.

Suddenly a sickening fear seized Mrs. Power. "Was it possible that they could have gone upon the beach?"

A brawny fisherman shrugged his shoulders hopelessly as he heard her question.

"We've thought of that before," he replied, "but we didn't like to suggest it to you, m'am. Some of us have been along the top of the cliff already, to see if we could make out anything. They're beyond help now if they went there, poor little chaps."

"Let us go to the shore," said Mrs. Power, but the men shook their heads as they accompanied her upon her fruitless errand.

The long wall of cliff which extended for so many miles towards the south came to an abrupt termination near the hamlet, and a flat extent of coast reached thence to the next headland. A narrow lane at right angles to the sea, and bordered by high hedges, led direct to the beach at the point where the cliff ended. So long as the search-party kept within the comparative shelter of this lane, all went well, but when they emerged from it, they were met by the full strength of the gale.

The rain was over now, though the wind still raged with tempestuous force. A full moon peeped out now and then through the rapidly driving clouds, lighting up the wild expanse of waters which heaved and surged in ceaseless turmoil as far as eye could reach.

"Could the boys have been caught between the cliff and the sea?" gasped Mrs. Power. "Shall we go a little way along the shore in case they may have taken refuge somewhere, and are afraid to move on?"

For answer one of the men pointed silently in the direction she had indicated.

It was enough--no words were needed to prove the impossibility of the task.

The moon gave sufficient light to show up the long dark line, at the foot of which the yellow ribbon of sand was wont to lie. In its place now tumbled a white mass of foaming waves. Here and there great billows, lashed by the wind, would hurl themselves half-way up the steep incline, breaking with thunderous noise upon the rampart which barred their way, and sending up sheets of spray into the air, like the steam from a boiling cauldron.

Mrs. Power covered her face with her hands.

"My boy!" she said. "Oh, my boy!"

Unresisting, she allowed herself to be led back to the silent cottage, where all that long dreary night she sat, a pale and broken-hearted watcher, waiting with dread for the only tidings which it seemed possible could reach her now.

To understand what had happened to the boys, we must follow Julius as he ran off to the wood on the morning of that long day. To do him justice he had really meant to be back in time to go with his father in the car; but an hour is short in the days of youth, and the time went all too rapidly.

He had just passed the lodge gates on his return when he heard the motor approaching, and quick as thought he had hidden himself behind the laurels at the entrance of the drive. His heart beat as he meditated on the punishment which doubtless awaited him for his disobedience, but a reckless feeling soon intervened. "In for a penny, in for a pound." He knew his father was not to return till dusk, for he had heard him tell the butler so, therefore he might as well have a jolly day before the reckoning came.

"I'll go back to Robin," he said, "and see if I can't do something specially nice, as I needn't be home for ages."

It was with rather forced merriment, however, that he joined in the games, for an uncomfortable feeling would obtrude itself even in the most exciting moments, that something was hanging over him which sooner or later must be faced.

Mrs. Power had asked him to stay for lunch, hearing that his father was away for the day, and not knowing of the interdict which had been laid upon the boy.

"Let us go for a walk, Robin," said Julius afterwards, the restless mood increasing as the day wore on. "The tide is coming in strong, and I shouldn't wonder if we found some buckles and things washed up on the beach. You know the fishermen pick up lots of treasures along the shore."

"Yes," answered Robin, "it is just like a fairy tale to hear of that ancient city which once stood where the ocean now rolls. Old Timothy has been telling me all about it--how there were churches, and streets, and battlements there in the days of old, but the waves gradually ate away the cliff, just as they are doing now, until one after another the buildings fell into the sea, and the whole town was buried beneath the water."

"I know a man who got quite a number of things which had been washed up," remarked Julius, "seals, with people's names on them, and rings, and dear little bronze brooches, besides crowds of coins. Couldn't we go and have a hunt now?"

"I simply ache to find something," said Robin, "even if it is only an old pin, but I'm not sure whether mother would like me to go without her, as it is rather a dangerous beach when the tide is coming in."

"We're not babies," answered Julius, "surely we can keep a look-out so as to get back in plenty of time. Besides, we needn't go far. The man told me that the best place to find the things is just under the ruined church, and it won't take us ten minutes to walk there."

"Well, if we only go a very little way," said Robin, "and come back when the waves get at all near the cliff, I don't think there can be any harm. Mother has never forbidden me to go, and I should like awfully to find a brooch for her to wear."

Did no friendly eye watch the two young figures as they wandered further and further along the treacherous shore? Time and tide were forgotten in the excitement of searching for the spoil. When at length the gloom of the coming storm caused them to look up, to their distress, they saw that the white line of breakers had almost closed the pathway of their return.

"Run, Julius," said Robin. "We may just do it, but the wind seems to be driving the waves in fast, and there is not a minute to lose."

Their feet sank in the loose pebbles and sand! as they hurried along, impeding their progress so that the inflowing tide gained upon them every moment.

"I didn't know we had come so far," panted Julius. "I feel as if my legs were made of lead. I don't think I can run any more."

They glanced up at the cliff, hoping against hope that some way might reveal itself by which they could scramble up its face, out of the danger zone below, but the sheer and crumbling surface offered no foothold.

By this time some of the foremost waves were sweeping up in long cruel rushes right across their track. It was only by waiting till they sank back again and then making a dash before another came up, that the boys were able to get on at all. Even then they were overtaken again and again by the relentless waters, and had to wade as best they could through the surf, the strong receding current threatening to carry them off their feet into the sea.

To add to their terror, the storm which had surprised Mr. Field, now burst above their heads, and the crash of thunder drowned even the roar of the breakers upon the beach. It suddenly grew so dark that they were unable to distinguish anything more than a few yards away, and the rain coming down in torrents soon completed the drenching which the waves had begun.

Just as they were about to give up in despair, Robin caught sight of a feeble light glimmering upon the cliff above.

"I do believe it is Timothy's cottage," he exclaimed, "and if so, we must be quite near the stair. Yes, here it is, Julius, I am holding the railing in my hand."

In another moment two woebegone little objects were standing before the old man's fire, too exhausted and miserable even to explain what had brought them there in such a plight.

*CHAPTER XII*

*Death and the Tide*

The grey dawn was creeping in through the windows of Sea View Cottage, eclipsing the yellow glow of the lamp which had burned all night in the little sitting-room.

Madelaine rose from her chair and pulled up the blind. The wind had abated somewhat, though a stiff breeze still blew from the sea. Dead twigs and fallen leaves were littered over the lawn, and the plants in the border were bent and broken from the effects of the late gale. A great sheaf of white chrysanthemums lay prostrate on the ground just in front of where she stood, the pure blossoms all draggled and smirched.

"How Robin admired those flowers yesterday," she said to herself. "I think I can see him now as he stood beside them, looking back at me with his own bright, happy smile. Shall I never see him run to meet me again--my precious little son!"

As she spoke, she heard the click of the garden gate, and there, right before her on the path, was Robin himself--a pale, rather dishevelled Robin, it is true, but there was no doubt about the reality of the sight.

Madelaine felt almost delirious with joy as she held him in her arms, and showered kisses upon his cheeks, his hands, his hair. She could scarcely believe that the terrible dream of the night had passed away, and that her treasure had been restored to her again.

"Mother," he said, looking anxiously up into her face, "I wish you would go to Julius. I'm sure he is very ill, he looks so funny, and he is talking such nonsense too. I couldn't get him even to sit up."

"Where is he, Robin, and what have you been doing with yourselves all this time?"

"I was afraid you'd be worrying about us," answered the boy. "I wanted to come on to you at once, after we had got rested a little in the cottage, but the wind was so bad, I really don't think I could have walked along the cliff by myself, even if it had been daylight. Then my clothes were so sopping wet, old Timothy made me take them off and get into his bed. I was dreadfully tired, mother, and I fell asleep in about a minute, and didn't wake up until it was morning."

"Old Timothy!" repeated Mrs. Power. "Have you been in his house all night, then?"

"Yes," replied Robin, "but I don't think it's at all safe for him and Julius to be there now. A great piece of the wall fell down just as it began to get light. I rather fancy it was that which woke me. There is only one end of the cottage left, and a big hole came in the ceiling of the kitchen just as I was going out at the door."

Mrs. Power rose to her feet.

"I must go to the village at once and rouse the men," she said. "The rest of the house may fall at any minute. Oh, Robin my boy, to think what you have escaped! It makes me shudder, even to imagine it!"

"It was nothing to the awful time we had upon the beach, before we got into shelter," answered the child, "but I'll tell you all about it, mother, after you come back. I do so want you to go and look at Julius."

Leaving Robin to be fed and cared for by Mrs. Sheppard, Madelaine Power sallied forth without further delay.

Only one or two were stirring in the hamlet at that early hour, but among these she gladly recognized Benjamin Green as he opportunely issued from "The Bull." He had wakened that morning with a strange feeling of guilt upon his conscience. It seemed to lie like a heavy burden, not to be easily shaken off. For a moment he was unable to account for such an unwonted sensation, when suddenly recollection returned to him, and leaping up, he hastily put on his clothes.

"I ought to have gone last night," he said. "Such a storm as it was, and poor old father all alone up there in that dangerous place!"

Tardy thoughts of duty rose within his breast, and faint pulses of filial affection, long passed away, began once more to make themselves felt. He willingly joined Mrs. Power as with rapid steps she trod the narrow path which led along the top of the cliff.

The storm had passed away, but the sea still flung itself sullenly upon the shore. As they neared the spot, Madelaine gave an exclamation of distress.

"Look what a huge piece of the crag has gone!" she said. "I thought Robin was exaggerating when he told me half the cottage had fallen down, but it is much worse than I expected."

"It's a good thing the kitchen is at the landward end," remarked Ben. "I see it is standing yet."