We sauntered on through the kitchen garden. A constant whispering in the trees told of moisture dripping from leaf to leaf. But the air was sweet and the path already dry. Rima's unrest was no matter for wonder, considering the experiences she had passed through. And when Sir Lionel had suggested our leaving London for the peace of his place in Norfolk, no one had welcomed the idea more heartily than I. In spite of intense activity on the part of Inspector Yale and his associates, all traces ofMadame Ingomar-- and other yet more formidable father--had vanished.
But Nayland Smith considered that Sir Lionel, having served Fah Lo Suee's purpose --might now be considered safe from molestation and we had settled down in Abbots Hold for a spell of rest.
'The queer thing is,' Rima went on, a deep, earnest note coming into her voice, 'that since Sir Denis joined us I have felt not more but less secure! '
'That's very curious,' I murmured, 'because I've had an extraordinary feeling of the sort, myself. '
'I suppose I'm very jumpy,' Rima confessed. 'But did you notice that family of gypsies who've camped beyond the big plantation? '
'Yes, dear. I passed them to-day. I saw a boy--rather a good-looking boy he seemed to be, but I was some distance off--and an awful old hag of a woman. Do they worry you?'
Rima laughed, unnaturally.
'Not really. I haven't seen the boy. But the woman and man I met in the lane simply gave me the creeps--'
She broke off; then:
'Oh, Shan! what's that!' she whispered.
A deep purring sound came to my ears-- continuous and strange. For a moment I stood still, whilst Rima's fingers clung close to mine. Then an explanation occurred to me.
Not noticing our direction, we had reached the comer of a sort of out-house connected by a covered passage with part of the servants' quarters.
'You understand now, darling,' I said, and drew Rima forward to an iron-barred window.
Bright moonlight made the interior visible; and coiled on the floor, his wicked little head raised to watch us, lay a graceful catlike creature whose black-spotted coat of gold gleamed through the dusk.
It was Sir Lionel's Indian cheetah-- although fairly tame, at times a dangerous pet. Practical zoology had always been one of the chiefs hobbies.
'Oh, thank heaven!' Rima exclaimed, looking down into the beautiful savage eyes which were raised to hers--'I might have guessed! But I never heard him purring before. '
'He is evidently in a good humour,' I said, as the great cat, with what I suppose was a friendly snarl, stood up with slow, feline grace, yawned, snarled again, and seemed to collapse wearily on the floor. The idea flashed through my mind that it was not a bad imitation of a drunken man! This idea was even better than I realized at the time.
We walked on, round the west wing of the rambling old building, and finally entered the library by way of the french windows. Sir Lionel had certainly changed the atmosphere of this room. The spacious apartment with its oak-panelled walls and the great ceiling beams displayed the influences of the Orientalist in the form of numberless Eastern relics and curiosities, which seemed strangely out of place. Memories of the cloister clung more tenaciously here--the old refectory-- than to any other room in Abbots Hold.
A magnificent Chinese lacquer cabinet, fully six feet high, which stood like a grotesque sentry-box just below the newel post of the staircase, struck perhaps the most blatant discord of all.
The library was empty, but I could hear the chief's loud voice in the study upstairs, and I knew that Nayland Smith was there with him. Petrie and his wife had been expected to dinner, but they had telephoned from Norwich to notify us that they would be detained overnight, owing to engine trouble.
Mrs. Oram, Sir Lionel's white-haired old housekeeper, presently came in; and leaving her chatting with Rima, I went up the open oak staircase and joined the chief in his study.
'Hullo, old scout!' he greeted me as I entered. 'If you're going to work with me in future, you'll either have to chuck Rima or marry her!'
He was standing on the hearthrug, domi- nating that small room, which was so laden with relics of his extensive and unusual travels that it resembled the shop of a very untidy antique dealer.
Nayland Smith, seated on a comer of the littered writing-table, was tugging at the lobe of his left ear and staring critically at the big brown-skinned man with his untidy, grey- white hair and keen blue eyes who was England's most intrepid explorer and fore- most Orientalist. It was a toss-up which of these two contained more volcanic energy.
'Smith's worried,' Sir Lionel went on in his loud rapid manner. 'He thinks our Chinese friends are up to their monkey tricks again and he doesn't like Petrie's delay. '
'I don't,' snapped Nayland Smith. 'It may be an accident. But, coming to-night, I wonder-- '
'Why to-night?' I asked.
Nayland Smith stared at me intently; then:
'Because to-night I caught a glimpse of the Abbots Hold ghost. '
'Rot!' shouted Sir Lionel.
'The monk?' I asked excitedly.
Nayland Smith shook his head.
'No! Didn't look like a monk to me,' he said. 'And I don't believe in ghosts!' he added.
2
When I rejoined Rima, her restless mood had grown more marked.
'I'm so glad you're here, Shan,' she said. 'Dear old Mrs. Oram has gone to bed; and although I could hear your voices in the study I felt quite ridiculously nervous. I'm terribly disappointed about the Petries.'
During their short acquaintance Rima and Mrs. Petrie had established one of those rare feminine friendships which a man can welcome. In Mrs. Petrie's complex character there was a marked streak of Oriental mysticism-- although from her appearance I should never have suspected Eastern blood; and Rima had that Celtic leaning towards a fairyland beyond the common ken which was part and parcel other birthright.
'So am I, darling,' I said. 'But they'll be here in the mom-ing. Have you been imagining things again?' I glanced at the french windows. 'Peters has locked up, I see. So you can't have been nervous about gypsies!'
It was strange that Rima, who had shared our queer life out in the Valley of the Kings, should be so timorous in a Norfolk country house; should fear wandering gypsies who had never feared Bedouins!
'No.' She looked at me in her serious way, apparently reading my thoughts. 'I'm not afraid of gypsies--really. I have spent too many nights out there in the wadi in Egypt to be afraid of anything like that. It is a sort of silly, unreal fear, Shan! Will you please do something? '
'Anything! What?'
Rima pointed to the Chinese cabinet at the foot of the stairs.
'Please open it!'
I crossed to the ornate piece of furniture and flung its gold-lined doors open. The cabinet was empty--as I had expected.
Rima thanked me with a smile, and:
'I've been fighting a horrible temptation to do just that,' she confessed, 'for a long time! Thank you, Shan dear. Don't think I'm mad but, truly'--she held out the book she had on her knees--'for ever so long past I have been sitting here reading and re-reading this one line--and glancing sideways at the cabinet. You seemed to wake me out of a trance!'
I took the book--a modem novel--and glanced at the line upon which Rima's finger rested. It was:
'I am near you.... '
'Could anything be more absurd?' she asked pathetically. 'What's wrong with me?'
I could find no answer, then--except a lover's answer. But I was to leam later.
When at last we said good night, I noticed as Rima stood up that she had a scent spray on the cushions beside her, and laughingly:
'What's the idea?' I asked.
She considered my question in an oddly serious way. In fact, her mood was distrait in an unusual degree; but finally:
