the vanished messenger-第7章

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fortunate　storm；　after　all；　I　think；　which　kept　Mr。　John　P。　Dunster
from　the　Harwich　boat　last　night。　　Leave　me；　Gerald；　for　a　time。
Stand　behind　my　chair；　Meekins；　and　see　that　no　one　enters。〃

Mr。　Fentolin　sat　in　his　chair；　his　hands　still　gripping　the　wonderful
document；　his　eyes　travelling　over　the　ocean　now　flecked　with
sunlight。　　His　eyes　were　fixed　upon　the　horizon。　　He　looked　steadily
eastward。



CHAPTER　VI

Mr。　John　P。　Dunster　opened　his　eyes　upon　strange　surroundings。　　He
found　himself　lying　upon　a　bed　deliciously　soft；　with　lace…edged
sheets　and　lavender…perfumed　bed　hangings。　　Through　the　discreetly
opened　upper　window　came　a　pleasant　and　ozone…laden　breeze。　　The
furniture　in　the　room　was　mostly　of　an　old…fashioned　type；　some　of
it　of　oak；　curiously　carved；　and　most　of　it　surmounted　with　a　coat
of　arms。　　The　apartment　was　lofty　and　of　almost　palatial　proportions。
The　whole　atmosphere　of　the　place　breathed　comfort　and　refinement。
The　only　thing　of　which　he　did　not　wholly　approve　was　the　face　of
the　nurse　who　rose　silently　to　her　feet　at　his　murmured　question：

〃Where　am　I？〃

She　felt　his　forehead；　altered　a　bandage　for　a　moment；　and　took　his
wrist　between　her　fingers。

〃You　have　been　ill；〃　she　said。　　〃There　was　a　railway　accident。　　You
are　to　lie　quite　still　and　not　say　a　word。　　I　am　going　to　fetch　the
doctor　now。　　He　wished　to　see　you　directly　you　spoke。〃

Mr。　Dunster　dozed　again　for　several　moments。　　When　he　reopened　his
eyes；　a　man　was　standing　by　his　bedside；　a　short　man　with　a　black
beard　and　gold…rimmed　glasses。　　Mr。　Dunster；　in　this　first　stage　of
his　convalescence；　was　perhaps　difficult　to　please；　for　he　did　not
like　the　look　of　the　doctor；　either。

〃Please　tell　me　where　I　am？〃　he　begged。

〃You　have　been　in　a　railway　accident；〃　the　doctor　told　him；　〃and
you　were　brought　here　afterwards。〃

〃In　a　railway　accident；〃　Mr。　Dunster　repeated。　　〃Ah；　yes；　I　remember！
I　took　a　special　to　Harwich　…　I　remember　now。　　Where　is　my
dressing…bag？〃

〃It　is　here　by　the　side　of　your　bed。〃

〃And　my　pocket…book？〃

〃It　is　on　your　dressing…table。〃

〃Have　any　of　my　things　been　looked　at？〃

〃Only　so　far　as　was　necessary　to　discover　your　identity；〃　the　doctor
assured　him。　　〃Don't　talk　too　much。　　The　nurse　is　bringing　you　some
beef　tea。〃

〃When；〃　Mr。　Dunster　enquired；　〃　shall　I　be　able　to　continue　my
journey？〃

〃That　depends　upon　many　things；〃　the　doctor　replied。

Mr。　Dunster　drank　his　beef　tea　and　felt　considerably　stronger。　　His
head　still　ached；　but　his　memory　was　returning。

〃There　was　a　young　man　in　the　carriage　with　me；〃　he　asked　presently。
〃Mr。　Gerald　something　or　other　I　think　he　said　his　name　was？〃

〃Fentolin；〃　the　doctor　said。　　〃He　is　unhurt。　　This　is　his　relative's
house　to　which　you　have　been　brought。〃

Mr。　Dunster　lay　for　a　time　with　knitted　brows。　　Once　more　the　name
of　Fentolin　seemed　somehow　familiar　to　him；　seemed　somehow　to　bring
with　it　to　his　memory　a　note　of　warning。　　He　looked　around　the　room
fretfully。　　He　looked　into　the　nurse's　face；　which　he　disliked
exceedingly；　and　he　looked　at　the　doctor；　whom　he　was　beginning　to
detest。

〃Whose　house　exactly　is　this？〃　he　demanded。

〃This　is　St。　David's　Hall　…　the　home　of　Mr。　Miles　Fentolin；〃　the
doctor　told　him。　　〃The　young　gentleman　with　whom　you　were　travelling
is　his　nephew。〃

〃Can　I　send　a　telegram？〃　Mr。　Dunster　asked；　a　little　abruptly。

〃Without　a　doubt；〃　the　doctor　replied。　　〃Mr。　Fentolin　desired　me　to
ask　you　if　there　was　any　one　whom　you　would　like　to　apprise　of　your
safety。〃

Again　the　man　upon　the　bed　lay　quite　still；　with　knitted　brows。
There　was　surely　something　familiar　about　that　name。　　Was　it　his
fevered　fancy　or　was　there　also　something　a　little　sinister？

The　nurse；　who　had　glided　from　the　room；　came　back　presently　with
some　telegraph　forms。　　Mr。　Dunster　held　out　his　hand　for　them　and
then　hesitated。

〃Can　you　tell　me　any　date；　Doctor；　upon　which　I　can　rely　upon
leaving　here？〃

〃You　will　probably　be　well　enough　to　travel　on　the　third　day　from
now；〃　the　doctor　assured　him。

〃The　third　day；〃　Mr。　Dunster　muttered。　　〃Very　well。〃

He　wrote　out　three　telegrams　and　passed　them　over。

〃One；〃　he　said；　〃is　to　New　York；　one　to　The　Hague；　and　one　to　London。
There　was　plenty　of　money　in　my　pocket。　　Perhaps　you　will　find　it
and　pay　for　these。〃

〃Is　there　anything　more；〃　the　doctor　asked；　〃that　can　be　done　for
your　comfort？〃

〃Nothing　at　present；〃　Mr。　Dunster　replied。　　〃My　head　aches　now；　but
I　think　that　I　shall　want　to　leave　before　three　days　are　up。　　Are
you　the　doctor　in　the　neighbourhood？〃

Sarson　shook　his　head。

〃I　am　physician　to　Mr。　Fentolin's　household；〃　he　answered　quietly。
〃I　live　here。　　Mr。　Fentolin　is　himself　somewhat　of　an　invalid　and
requires　constant　medical　attention。〃

Mr。　Dunster　contemplated　the　speaker　steadfastly。

〃You　will　forgive　me；〃　he　said。　　〃I　am　an　American　and　I　am　used　to
plain　speech。　　I　am　quite　unused　to　being　attended　by　strange
doctors。　　I　understand　that　you　are　not　in　general　practice　now。
Might　I　ask　if　you　are　fully　qualified？〃

〃I　am　an　M。D。　of　London；〃　the　doctor　replied。　　〃You　can　make
yourself　quite　easy　as　to　my　qualifications。　　It　would　not　suit
Mr。　Fentolin's　purpose　to　entrust　himself　to　the　care　of　any　one
without　a　reputation。〃

He　left　the　room；　and　Mr。　Dunster　closed　his　eyes。　　His　slumbers；
however；　were　not　altogether　peaceful　ones。　　All　the　time　there
seemed　to　be　a　hammering　inside　his　head；　and　from　somewhere　back
in　his　obscured　memory　the　name　of　Fentolin　seemed　to　be　continually
asserting　itself。　　From　somewhere　or　other；　the　amazing　sense　which
sometimes　gives　warning　of　danger　to　men　of　adventure；　seemed　to
have　opened　its　feelers。　　He　rested　because　he　was　exhausted；　but
even　in　his　sleep　he　was　ill　at　ease。

The　doctor；　with　the　telegrams　in　his　hand；　made　his　way　down　a
splendid　staircase；　past　the　long　picture　gallery　where　masterpieces
of　Van　Dyck　and　Rubens　frowned　and　leered　down　upon　him；　descended
the　final　stretch　of　broad　oak　stairs；　crossed　the　hail；　and　entered
his　master's　rooms。　　Mr。　Fentolin　was　sitting　before　the　open　window；
an　easel　in　front　of　him；　a　palette　in　his　left　hand；　painting　with
deft；　swift　touches。

〃Ah！〃　he　exclaimed；　without　looking　around；　〃it　is　my　friend　the
doctor；　my　friend　Sarson；　M。D。　　of　London；　L。R。C。P。　　and　all　the
rest　of　it。　　He　brings　with　him　the　odour　of　the　sick　room。　　For　a
moment　or　two；　just　for　a　moment；　dear　friend；　do　not　disturb　me。
Do　not　bring　any　alien　thoughts　into　my　brain。　　I　am　absorbed；　you
see　…　absorbed。　　It　is　a　strange　problem　of　colour；　this。〃

He　was　silent　for　several　moments；　glancing　repeatedly　out　of　the
window　and　back　to　his　canvas；　painting　all　the　time　with　swift　and
delicate　precision。

〃Meekins；　who　stands　behind　my　chair；〃　Mr。　Fentolin　continued；　〃even
Meekins　is　entranced。　　He　has　a　soul；　my　friend　Sarson；　although　you
might　not　think　it。　　He；　too；　sees　sometimes　the　colour　in　the　skies；
the　glitter　upon　the　sands；　the　clear；　sweet　purity　of　those　long
stretches　of　virgin　water。　　Meekins；　I　believe；　has　a　soul；　only　he
likes　better　to　see　these　things　grow　under　his　master's　touch　than
to　wander　about　and　solve　their　riddles　for　himself。〃

The　man　remained　perfectly　immovable。　　Not　a　feature　twitched。　　Yet
it　was　a　fact　that；　although　he　stood　where　Mr。　Fentolin　could　not
possibly　observe　him；　he　never　removed　his　gaze　from　the　canvas。

〃You　see；　my　medical　friend；　that　there　has　been　a　great　tide　in　the
night；　following　upon　the　flood？　　Even　our　small　landmarks　are
shifted。　　Soon；　in　my　little　carriage；　I　shall　ride　down　to　the
Tower。　　I　shall　sit　there；　and　I　shall　watch　the　sea。　　I　think　that
this　evening；　with　the　turn　of　the　tide；　the　spray　may　reach　even
to　my　windows　there。　　I　shall　paint　again。　　There　is　always
something　fresh　in　the　sea；　you　know　…　always　something　fresh　in
the　sea。　　Like　a　human　face　…　angry　or　pleased；　sullen　or　joyful。
Some　people　like　to　paint　the　sea　at　its　calmest　and　most　beautiful。
Some　people　like　to　see　happy　faces　around　them。　　It　is　not　every
one　who　appreciates　the　other　things。　　It　is　not　quite　like　that
with　me；　eh；　Sarson？〃

His　hand　fell　to　his　side。　　Momentarily　he　had　finished　his　work。
He　turned　around　and　eyed　the　doctor；　who　stood　in　taciturn　silence。

〃Answer。　　Answer　me；〃　he　insisted。

The　doctor's　gloomy　face　seemed　darker　still。

〃You　have　spoken　the　truth；　Mr。　Fentolin；〃　he　admitted。　　〃You　are
not　one　of　the　vulgar　herd　who　love　to　consort　with　pleasure　and
happiness。　　You　are　one　of　those　who　understand　the　beauty　of
unhappiness　…　in　others；〃　he　added；　with　faint　emphasis。

Mr。　Fentolin　smiled。　　His　face　became　almost　like　the　face　of　one
of　those　angels　of　the　great　Italian　master。

〃How　well　you　know　me！〃　he　murmured。　　〃My　humble　effort；　Doctor
…　how　do　you　like　it？〃

The　doctor　bent　over　the　canvas。

〃I　know　nothing　about　art；〃　he　said；　a　little　roughly。　　〃Your　work
seems　to　me　clever　…　a　little　grotesque；　perhaps；　a　little　straining
after　the　hard；　plain　things　which　threaten。　　Nothing　of　the
idealist　in　your　work；　Mr。　Fentolin。〃

Mr。　Fentolin　studied　the　canvas　himself　for　a　moment。

〃A　clever　man；　Sarson；〃　he　remarked　coolly；　〃but　no　courtier。　　Never
mind；　my　work　pleases　me。　　It　gives　me　a　passing　sensation　of
happiness。　　Now；　what　about　our　patient？〃

〃He　recovers；〃　the　doctor　pronounced。　　〃From　my　short　examination；
I　should　say　that　he　had　the　constitution　of　an　ox。　　I　have　told
him　that　he　will　be　up　in　three　days。　　As　a　matter　of　fact；　he　will
be　able；　if　he　wants　to；　to　walk　out　of　the　house　to…morrow。〃

Mr。　Fentolin　shook　his　head。

〃We　cannot　spare　him　quite　so　soon；〃　he　declared。　　〃We　must　avail
ourselves　of　this　wonderful　chance　afforded　us　by　my　brilliant　young
nephew。　　We　must　keep　him　with　us　for　a　little　time。　　What　is　it
that　you　have　in　your　hands；　Doctor？　　Telegrams；　I　think。　　Let　me
look　at　them。〃

The　doctor　held　them　out。　　Mr。　Fentolin　took　them　eagerly　between
his　thin；　delicate　fingers。　　Suddenly　his　face　darkened；　and　became
like　the　face　of　a　spoilt　and　angry　child。

〃Cipher！〃　he　exclaimed　furiously。　　〃A　cipher　which　he　knows　so　well
as　to　remember　it；　too！　　Never　mind；　it　will　be　easy　to　decode。　　It
will　amuse　me　during　the　afternoon。　　Very　good；　Sarson。　　I　will　take
charge　of　these。〃

〃You　do　not　wish　anything　dispatched？〃

〃Nothing　at　present；〃　Mr。　Fentolin　sighed。　　〃It　will　be　well；　I
think；　for　the　poor　man　to　remain　undisturbed　by　any　communications
from　his　friends。　　Is　he　restless　at　all？〃

〃He　wants　to　get　on　with　his　journey。〃

〃We　shall　see；〃　Mr。　Fentolin　remarked。　　〃Now　feel　my　pulse；　Sarson。
How　am　I　this　morning？〃

The　doctor　held　the　thin　wrist　for　a　moment　between　his　fingers；
and　let　it　go。

〃In　perfect　health；　as　usual；〃　he　announced　grimly。

〃Ah；　but　you　cannot　be　sure！〃　Mr。　Fentolin　protested。　　〃My　tongue；
if　you　please。〃

He　put　it　out。

〃Excellent！〃

〃We　must　make　quite　certain；〃　Mr。　Fentolin　continued。　　〃There　are
so　many　people　who　would　miss　me。　　My　place　in　the　world　would　not
be　easily　filed。　　Undo　my　waistcoat；　Sarson。　　Feel　my　heart；　please。
Feel　carefully。　　I　can　se