Chapter 51
"Without fail."
"Then come in the study and have a cup of coffee and a cigar first."
"To be sure. I am with you there."
Gartram threw open the door; they crossed the hall and entered the study, where a shaded lamp was burning, the window, wide open, and the soft subdued light of the moon, as it rose slowly over the glistening sea, flooded the room.
"What a glorious night!" said the doctor, as he went to the table, filled a cup with coffee, and then took a cigar and cut off the end before looking round, and then walking to the chimney-piece, while Glyddyr threw himself in a chair and began to help himself.
"Give me a cup too, my dear boy," said Gartram, as he took a cigar.
"Doctor does not cut down my smoking yet. No matches?"
"All right; here they are on the chimney-piece," said the doctor, and as he spoke the flame of the little wax match gave his face a peculiar aspect in the dim room. "But, hallo! What have we here? Secret drinking. What is this?" and, as he spoke, he took up a gla.s.s standing on the chimney-piece.
"Secret drinking, indeed!" grunted Gartram. "It's your confounded tonic, put there ready for me to take by-and-by."
"A thousand pardons," said the doctor, coming forward and taking up his coffee, while Glyddyr lay back in an easy-chair, gazing at the dimly-seen gla.s.s upon the mantelpiece, and smoking thoughtfully.
"You've no light, Glyddyr," said Gartram, rising and going to the chimney-piece, where, with his back to his guests, he took up the wine gla.s.s, but uttered an impatient e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, set it down again, and took up the match stand, which he placed beside Glyddyr, and then tossed off his coffee. "What do you say to finis.h.i.+ng our smoking out on the terrace?"
"To be sure; yes," said the doctor. "A most glorious night."
He moved with his host toward the open French window, where the two men stood for a few moments darkening the room, and looking like two huge silhouettes to Glyddyr, as he lay back in his chair with his cigar half out.
Then suddenly Gartram turned and looked at him with a peculiar smile.
"You won't join us, I suppose?" he said.
"I--thanks--if you will excuse me," said Glyddyr, in a faltering voice.
"Excuse you, my dear boy? of course. Come along, Asher, the sea looks lovely from the upper seat."
Glyddyr's whole manner changed, and grew cat-like in its quick, soft movements as the pair walked away from the window along the granite terrace, Gartram's boots creaking loudly as they walked.
There was a death-like silence then in the room, which made Glyddyr's long-drawn, catching breath sound strangely loud as he rose from his seat and walked silently over the thick carpet to stand listening by the window, his figure in turn looking perfectly black against the moonlight; and as he stood there, from outside there came the low murmur of the men's voices, and from the house, all m.u.f.fled, the music of the piano in the drawing-room.
With a quick, gliding movement Glyddyr walked to the chimney-piece, thrusting his hand into his breast-pocket. Then, taking up the gla.s.s, he crossed to the window, and with a quick movement threw its contents sharply away, the liquid breaking up into a tiny sparkling shower in the soft yellow moonlight, and then it was gone.
Quickly and silently Glyddyr stole back to the chimney-piece, and replaced the gla.s.s. There was a faint, squeaking noise, as of a cork being removed from a phial, then the tap of gla.s.s upon gla.s.s, a faint gurgling, and another tapping of gla.s.s upon gla.s.s, as if his hand trembled.
A low, catching sigh followed,
There was the quick rustle and jerk of clothes, then silence; then a faint sound, and Glyddyr drew a long breath, as if of satisfaction as he felt that all had gone as he wished, and the bottle had s.h.i.+vered to atoms on the rocks far below, while the next tide would cover the fragments, and wash them into crevices among the granite boulders as it destroyed all trace of the contents.
Glyddyr stood thinking for a few moments, and then he gulped down his coffee, and went out into the hall, which he crossed, hesitated again for a few minutes, and then entered the drawing-room, where, as the door closed, a low fresh murmuring arose, and was succeeded a minute later by the sound of the piano and Claude's voice, which came sweet and pure to the hall, as a _portiere_ was drawn aside, and the dark figure of Sarah Woodham came forward into the light.
She stood listening by the drawing-room door for a few minutes, and then her dress rustled softly as she went across to the study, listened, tapped lightly, turned the handle and entered, closing the door after her.
The murmur of voices came from the terrace, and the woman replaced the coffee cups on the silver tray, and was in the act of lifting it, gazing out through the open window the while, but she set the tray down again, walked to the window, listened, and then went quickly to the chimney-piece. Then there was an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n that was almost a moan as she raised the gla.s.s, and then, after listening intently, she held it up to the light, uttered a piteous sigh, and crossing quickly to the tray, emptied the contents into one of the fresh-used coffee cups, and replaced the gla.s.s on the chimney-piece. Then once more there was the faint squeaking of a cork in a bottle neck, the low gurgling of fluid being poured out, the replacing of the cork; and as the woman glided to the table, where the coffee tray remained, the light of the moon shone upon her dark dress and white ap.r.o.n, and showed her hurried movements as she thrust a bottle into the pocket among the folds of her dress.
A low sigh once more escaped her lips, and she muttered softly as she took up the tray and left the room.
"Not more than half an hour," said a voice, which echoed from the terrace wall, and there were approaching steps.
"Make all the haste you can. I'll have my nap while you are gone. I say, doctor."
"Yes," said Asher, pausing in the moonlight by the open window.
"Don't disturb them in the drawing-room."
"No, no, I understand," said the doctor; and he stepped softly into the room, smiling as he went to the table, helped himself to a cigar, bit off and spat out the end, then took up the match stand, struck a light, and walked slowly across the room as he lit his cigar, stopping for a few moments puffing heavily to get it well alight before he set down the matches in their old place.
Five minutes after, Gartram's creaking boots were heard as he came along the terrace, entered the room, went straight to the chimney-piece, tossed off the contents of the gla.s.s, and then threw himself in an easy-chair.
"There, Master Glyddyr," he said; "you have the field to yourself, and you will not mind my having a nap."
Claude played well, and after a little entreaty she sang an old ballad, in a sweet low voice that would have thrilled some men, but to which Glyddyr listened in an abstracted way, as if his attention was more taken up by what was going on without.
After a time the urn was brought in, and Claude was about to rise from the piano, but Glyddyr seemed to become all at once deeply interested, and begged so very earnestly that she stayed, a duet was produced, and Mary Dillon, directly after the prelude, took the first part in a voice so clear and piercing, so birdlike in its purity and strength, that for a few moments the visitor sat gazing at her in admiration.
But he soon became abstracted again, and as the final notes of the combined voices rang out, he rose with a sigh, and walked to the window, while Claude proceeded to make the tea.
"And never said 'thank you,'" whispered Mary. "Poor young man. He is terribly in love."
At that moment steps were heard pa.s.sing down the stone pathway toward the gate.
"Doctor Asher gone to give some poor creature physic," said Mary merrily; and Glyddyr came slowly back toward the table.
"You will take some tea, Mr Glyddyr?" said Claude.
"I? No, thanks; I rarely take it," he replied. "I'm afraid I am rather a burden upon you two ladies, and if you will excuse me I will go and have a chat with Mr Gartram, as he is alone."
"I am afraid you will not find papa very conversational," said Claude gravely. "He will be having his after-dinner nap."
"Ah, well, I shall not disturb him. I will go and have a cigar."
He left the room in a hurried way, and as soon as the door was closed, Mary burst into a merry fit of laughter.
"Mary!"
"Well, I can't help it, Claude," she said. "Oh, how grateful you ought to be to me. I have saved you from no end of love-making. Did you see how wistfully he kept on looking at us?"
"No," said Claude, with a sigh of relief.
"But he did, dear. Talk about the language of the eye; you could read his without a dictionary. It was, 'do go, my dear Miss Mary. I do want a _tete-a-tete_ with Claude so very, very badly.'"
"Pray be silent, Mary."