“Very well,” he said, “I will give up my time tomorrow to getting ready. I suppose now that you won’t want me to telegraph to the Hampshire place for the dogs?”
“Oh, I think you had better,” Ravenspur said. “One never knows what may turn up. And there is always the chance of the secret being discovered. And now let us go to bed, and try to get some sleep. I haven’t had a night’s rest for a week. I am longing to find myself on board a yacht again. I shall be safe there at all events. Good night, my boy.”
It was after lunch the following day that Vera came into the billiard-room in search of Walter. The latter had practically finished his preparations. He had done everything that his uncle had entrusted to him, and there was nothing now but to wait the turn of events. In a well-regulated establishment like that of Lord Ravenspur’s, everything had proceeded smoothly enough. By luncheon time the whole of the boxes and portmanteaux had been packed, and the luggage despatched. Still, there was a perplexed look in Vera’s eyes as she came into the billiard-room.
“I have been looking for you everywhere, Walter,” she said. “I want to know what is the meaning of all this mystery. I have seen enough baggage leave the house to supply us with all we want for a season in Scotland. When I asked my maid what she was doing, she simply said that she had been instructed by the housekeeper to get my things ready. Of course, I raised no objection, but I should certainly like to know what it all means.”
Walter looked a trifle embarrassed. He had quite forgotten that Vera might show a natural curiosity.
“We are going away for a little time,” he explained. “The fact of the matter is, your guardian has not been at all well lately. But you must have noticed that for yourself. He has had a great deal to try him, too, and he is afraid of a breakdown. We are going to Weymouth direct from Lord Ringmar’s House, and not a soul is to know anything about it. You see, if we stay and make elaborate preparations, it will take quite a week to make a start. It is far better to let people know afterwards that Lord Ravenspur has been ordered away peremptorily, and that he is to have perfect rest for the next month or so. Only I can’t sufficiently impress upon you the necessity of keeping this thing absolutely secret.”
“Even from Lady Ringmar?” Vera cried.
“From everybody,” Walter said, somewhat sternly. “Vera, your guardian is in great danger. You are in great danger yourself. I dare not tell you more now, but perhaps I shall be permitted to say it later on. Go about your business or pleasure today just as if nothing had happened.”
Vera asked no further questions. She was perhaps just a little hurt that Walter had refused to take her into his confidence. At the same time, she was young and vigorous, and the thought of a change was not displeasing. She passed out of the house presently with a view to a walk in the park. She stopped before a feeble, blind old man who was dolefully grinding out hymns on a dilapidated organ. A boy of some ten or twelve years was guiding the unfortunate man along the pavement. Vera took out her purse, and placed a shilling in the little tin cup which the boy was carrying.
“I have not seen you here before,” she said kindly.
The man murmured something to the effect that this was his first day with the organ. He seemed uneasy and undecided in his manner, and, naturally enough, Vera put this down to the strangeness of his surroundings. Then she hastened on to the park, and the little incident passed from her mind. She had tea subsequently with a friend in Grosvenor Square, and when she came back, barely in time to dress for dinner, she saw that the blind man was still in the Lane, grinding industriously at his melancholy airs.
“I suppose Walter has told you,” Ravenspur said as they sat down to dinner. “You know where we are going?”
“He told me part,” Vera said. “Really, I don’t quite understand what all this mystery means.”
“Indeed, it is absolutely necessary,” Ravenspur said gravely. “It is as necessary for your happiness as it is for mine. I have done my best to safeguard your welfare—”
“Oh, yes, yes,” Vera cried contritely. “I am a most ungrateful girl to speak in that way. After all, I am looking forward to the trip. It is probably the last happy time we shall have together. Yes; I have quite made up my mind to get my own living. But we won’t discuss that tonight.”
Dinner was over at length and the carriage was ordered round. Vera came downstairs presently; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling. She was very alluring and attractive in her white dress. She had made up her mind to be absolutely happy tonight. The dress was a special present from Lord Ravenspur, and Vera had been afraid to ask what the Paris house had charged for it. Still, it was the last extravagance she was going to put Lord Ravenspur to.
“I declare there is my old blind man still,” she said, as she got into the carriage. “He must have been here all day. I must make inquiries, and see what I can do for him.”
The door of the carriage was banged to, and the horses trotted away. As they passed the spot where the blind man was standing he suddenly ceased his doleful airs and whistled softly. A moment later and a shabby figure came shuffling down the Lane.
“That’s right, Stevens,”