Chapter Thirty-three

Mr. Chesney Praye was a welcome visitor. He had parked his machine in the forecourt, and now, sitting before the small wood fire, was warming his chilled hands, for the night had turned unusually cold and he had come at full speed across the windy downs.

“Br-r-r!” he said, as he held his hands before the blaze. “And this is what they call an English summer! I’ll be glad to get back to India.”

“Do you think of going?”

“I may. Everything depends----”

“You were lucky to find me in,” said the doctor, putting glasses on the table.

“Why?” asked the other, in surprise. “I thought you wouldn’t leave this abode of peace, at any rate not now.”

Briefly the doctor related the cause of his excursion and Chesney looked serious.

“Is there any likelihood of Dorn coming back?” he asked.

Tappatt’s merriment reassured him.

“He’s back! In fact, he is practically under this roof!”

Chesney sprang to his feet.

“What the devil do you mean?” he asked roughly.

“Sit down. There’s nothing to be alarmed about. He is behind a two-inch door, with handcuffs on his wrists and a pain in his head that will take a lot of moving. I’d have telephoned, only I don’t trust the exchange.”

And then he told the visitor of his encounter with Dorn.

“It was a question of foresight, and I saw farthest,” he said. “It is as good as a bottle of sparkling wine to match your brain against the mind of a man like that, to look ahead and see what he will do in given circumstances, and to counter and recounter his plans. Somebody had to come out on top--he or I. He failed to take an elementary precaution--the veriest amateur would have known that, if his attention was distracted for a moment, I’d doctor his drink; and it was absurdly simple. I don’t even take the credit for it. He played so completely into my hands.”

Chesney pursed his lips.

“Has he recovered from the drug?” he asked, a little apprehensively.

Tappatt nodded.

“Oh yes, I’ve had quite an interesting conversation with him through the door. There’s a little spyhole that makes it easy to exchange pleasant badinage. Captain Michael Dorn is a pretty sick man at this moment.”

Chesney Praye was pacing up and down the room, a worried frown on his face. This was a development that he had not looked for.

“Perhaps it is better,” he said. “I shall be taking away the girl to-night.”

“The countess didn’t----” began the doctor.

“You needn’t worry about the countess. She’d have telephoned, but she shared your fear of the exchange. The girl and Mrs. Pinder are to be moved. The risk of keeping them here is too great. Dorn has people working for him and you’ll wake one morning to find a cordon of police round the house.”

“Where will you go?”

“I shall take her abroad.”

“And the other woman?”

Chesney looked at him oddly.

“I may want the other woman--later,” he said.

“I had better bring Reddle down,” said the doctor, rising and going to the door, but Praye beckoned him back.

“There is no hurry,” he said.

He evidently had something which he had hesitated to say.

“What are your plans, Tappatt?”

“Mine? I shall have to flit, I suppose. They’re striking me off the register, at least Dorn told me so.”

“What will you do with him?”

An ugly smile showed for a second on the doctor’s face.

“I don’t know. He is going to be a difficulty. I’ve seen that from the first. I could leave him, and that is what I shall probably do. Nobody would come near the farm perhaps for months, perhaps for a year.”

Chesney Praye’s face was ashen.

“Leave him to starve?” he whispered.

“Why not?” asked the other coolly. “Who would know? I thought of going to Australia. And I’d take my nurse with me. She would think that I had let Dorn out, and anyway she’s not the kind of person to ask questions. This place is Lady Moron’s property. Who would visit it if I left? It might be empty for years.”

Chesney Praye’s mouth was dry, the hand that went to his lips shook.

“I don’t know--it seems pretty awful,” he said irresolutely. “To leave a man--to starve!”

“What will happen if he gets after me?” asked the doctor, stirring the fire that had almost gone out. “I should either starve or get my meals too regularly! I understand the food is fairly good at Dartmoor, but I am willing to take anybody’s word for it. I do not want to have a personal experience. And anyway, there’s always a way out for a medical man. I owe Dorn something. He hounded me from India, and he’s not exactly a friend of yours, is he, Chesney?”

“No,” said the other shortly, “only----”

“Only what? You’re chicken-hearted! What do you think is going to happen to you and me if that gets out?” He pointed to the ceiling. “It would mean the best part of a lifetime for you--more than a lifetime for me. No, sir, I am well aware of the risks I am taking and more than determined what further risks I’ll accept. You’d better have the girl down. I suppose you want to be alone?”

He nodded and the doctor went out of the room, and was gone for a long while. When the door opened, Lois Reddle stood framed against the dark background of the passage. At the sight of Praye she stopped.

“You!” she said in wonder.

“Good evening, Miss Reddle. Won’t you sit down?”

Chesney was politeness itself and his manners were unimpeachable.

“I’m afraid you’ve had a very unhappy experience,” he said. “I only learnt about it this afternoon and I came down immediately to do whatever I could. The doctor tells me that you have been certified.”

“That is not true,” she said hotly. “I know very little about the law, but I have been in Mr. Shaddles’ office too long to suppose that any person can be certified as mad by one doctor! Are you going to take me away?”

He nodded.

“And that other unfortunate woman?”

“She may go too,” he said slowly, “on conditions.”

She looked at him steadily.

“I don’t quite understand you, Mr. Praye.”

He motioned her to a chair, but she did not move.

“Now listen to me, Miss Reddle. I am taking big risks for your sake. I needn’t particularise them, but if I fail this evening, my future, and probably”--he hesitated to say “liberty”--“at any rate, my future is seriously jeopardised. I’ve made this journey without the knowledge of a person who shall be nameless and I am betraying the trust she has in me. She will not forgive me.”

“You mean the Countess of Moron?” she asked quietly.

“There is no use in beating about the bush. I refer to the Countess of Moron.”

“Am I here by her orders?”

He nodded.

“But why? What have I ever done to her that she should wish to injure me?”

“You will know one of these days,” he said impatiently, “but that is beside the point. I can save you and your mother----”

She fell back a pace.

“My mother?” she breathed. “That woman,” she pointed her trembling finger to the door--“not my mother?” He nodded. “Here? Oh, my God! Why?”

“She’s here for the same reason that you are here,” was his cool reply. “Now, Miss Reddle, you’ve got to be an intelligent being. I want you to be sensible and recognise the sacrifices I am making for you, and to agree to my conditions for taking your mother away from this place.”

“What are the conditions?” she asked slowly.

“The first is that you marry me!” said Chesney Praye.