II
Thursday
Friday morning (very early).—The events of yesterday and last night have left me with more to think about than I seem to have wits to think with. Mein Gott, if I could see daylight through everything! What is ahead, Heaven knows, but here is what is behind.
Yesterday morning passed as the afternoon before had passed, in further discussion of naval statistics with Tiel—with a background of Eileen. Then we had lunch, and soon afterwards Tiel put on an oilskin coat and went out. A thin fine drizzle still filled the air, drifting in clouds before a rising wind and blotting out the view of the sea almost completely. Behind it the ships were doing we knew not what; certainly they were not firing, but we could see nothing of them at all.
A little later Eileen insisted on putting on a waterproof and going out too. As the minister’s sister she had to visit a farm, she said. I believed her, of course, though I had ceased to pay much attention to Tiel’s statements as to his movements. I knew that he knew his own business thoroughly, and I had ceased to mind if he had not the courtesy to take me into his confidence. After all, if I come safely out of this business, I am not likely to meet such as Tiel again!
Left to myself, I picked up a book and had been reading for about a quarter of an hour when I was conscious of a shadow crossing the window and heard a step on the gravel. Never doubting that it was either Eileen or Tiel, I still sat reading until I was roused by the sound of voices in the hall, just outside the parlour door. One I recognised as our servant’s, the other was a stranger’s. I dropped my book and started hastily to my feet, and as I did so I heard the stranger say—
“I tell you I recognise her coat. My good woman, d’ye think I’m blind? I’m coming in to wait for her, I tell you.”
The door opened, and a very large stout gentleman appeared, talking over his shoulder as he entered.
“When Miss Holland comes in, tell her Mr. Craigie is waiting to see her,” said he; and with that he closed the door and became aware of my presence.
For a moment we looked at one another. My visitor, I saw, had a grey beard, a large rosy face, and twinkling blue eyes. He looked harmless enough, but I eyed him very warily, as you can readily believe.
“It’s an awful wet day,” said he in a most friendly and affable tone.
I agreed that it was detestable.
“It’s fine for the crops all the same. The oats is looking very well; do you not think so?”
I perceived that my friend was an agriculturist, and endeavoured to humour him.
“They are looking splendid!” I said with enthusiasm.
He sat down, and we exchanged a few more remarks on the weather and the crops, in the course of which he had filled and lit a pipe and made himself entirely at home.
“Are you staying with the minister?” he inquired presently.
“I am visiting him,” I replied evasively,
“I understand Miss Holland’s here too,” said he, with an extra twinkle in his eye.
I knew, of course, that he must mean Eileen, and I must confess that I was devoured with curiosity.
“She is,” I said. “Do you know her?”
“Know her? She was my governess! Has she not told you the joke of how she left me in the lurch?”
It flashed across my mind that it might seem odd if I were to admit that “Miss Holland” had said nothing about this mysterious adventure.
“Oh yes, she has told us all about it,” I replied with assurance.
Mr. Craigie laughed heartily at what was evidently a highly humorous recollection.
“I was as near being annoyed at the time as I ever was in my life,” said he. “But, man, I’ve had some proper laughs over it since.”
He suddenly grew a trifle graver.
“Mrs. Craigie isn’t laughing, though. Between ourselves, it’s she that’s sent me on this errand today.”
He winked and nodded and relit his pipe, while I endeavoured to see a little light through the extraordinary confusion of ideas which his remarks had caused in my mind.
“Miss Holland came up to the islands as your governess, I understand,” I said in as matter-of-fact tone as I could compass.
“We got her through a Mrs. Armitage in Kensington,” said Mr. Craigie. “It seemed all right—and mind you, I’m not saying it isn’t all right now! Only between you and me, Mr.—?”
“Wilson,” I said promptly, breathing my thanks to Tiel at the same time.
“You’ll be a relation of the minister’s too, perhaps?”
“I am on government business,” I replied in a suitable tone of grave mystery.
“Damn it, Mr. Wilson,” exclaimed my friend with surprising energy, “everyone in the country seems to be on government business nowadays—except myself! And I’ve got to pay their salaries! We’re asked in the catechism what’s our business in this weary world, and damn it, I can answer that conundrum now! It’s just to pay government officials their wages, and build a dozen or two new Dreadnoughts, and send six million peaceable men into the army, and fill a pile of shells with trinitrol-globule-paralysis, or whatever they call the stuff, and all this on the rental of an estate which was just keeping me comfortably in tobacco before this infernal murdering business began! Do you know what I’d do with that Kaiser if I caught him?”
I looked as interested as possible, and begged for information.
“I’d give him my wife and my income, and see how he liked the mess he’s landed me in!”
Though Mr. Craigie had spoken with considerable vehemence, he had not looked at all fierce, and now his not usually very intellectual face began to assume a thoughtful expression.
“He’s an awful fool, yon man!” he
