The Man from the Clouds

Paris. Her hair was dressed as fashionably as the rest of her, and her face was of precisely the kind I had least expected to see, rather thin with neatly chiselled features and delicate eyebrows, and an entirely sophisticated expression. There was no doubt she was decidedly pretty, and quite delightfully fresh and trim looking. But her eyes were her best feature. As I looked straight into them for an instant I could scarcely bring myself to play the part I had arranged. They seemed as though they would be a little difficult to deceive.

However, thank Heaven I have lived down most of the virtues that embarrass the young. I had lied before, been found out, and lived through it; so I clicked my heels together, bowed, and enquired,

“Is Master Rindall in?”

(My accent wasn’t really quite as bad as that, but I should have to invent fresh vowels to illustrate what it actually sounded like.)

I had expected some slight symptoms of alarm, but she answered with perfect composure and in a voice that matched the hair and blouse,

“Yes, he is. Will you come in?”

I bowed again and entered the mansion of Mr. Rendall.

VII

At the Mansion House

As I followed the girl through the hall, a man’s voice asked,

“Is that O’Brien?”

“No,” she said, “it’s someone to see you, father.”

She showed me into a room and closed the door, and in the course of the next few minutes I came to one or two pretty obvious conclusions. She was clearly Mr. Rendall’s daughter, and they were equally clearly in the habit of receiving visits at odd times from Mr. O’Brien; in fact they evidently concluded it was he, or Miss Rendall herself would scarcely have opened the door to me. Also, her reply might be taken as implying that if Mr. O’Brien had been the visitor, it would not have been her father he had come to see. But whether or no this were the true interpretation, I so thoroughly disliked and suspected O’Brien that any suggestion of intimacy was alone enough to make me glad I had started on the defensive.

“Otherwise,” said I to myself, “what a charming girl to find in such a place!”

However, I reminded myself that I had not come here to be charmed, and proceeded next to take stock of the room.

It was not large, but pleasantly proportioned, low in the ceiling, and pervaded with a delicate yet distinct flavour of the past, I found myself instinctively wondering how one could reproduce this particular flavour on the stage; no armour or tapestry or any of the usual antique paraphernalia to be allowed, for beyond the thick walls and rather small windows, it was so difficult to lay one’s finger on any one specific thing that palpably suggested age. Finally I decided that it was impossible to recreate such an atmosphere. It was compounded of stillness within and the glimpses of primeval quiet without, of a touch of comfortable shabbiness, of plenty of elderly books, and of a faint odour of the dampness of centuries mingled with the scent of honeysuckle. My suspicions were suddenly lulled, and with that prompt decision which has landed me in and pulled me out of so many holes, I decided to drop my German accent. That the charming Miss Rendall might miss it, and wonder what had become of it, was (I must confess) a reflection which did not occur to me till afterwards.

Just as I had come to this decision, in walked the laird, and in two minutes I had come to another decision, which was to adhere to the plan of campaign I had thought of as I walked, in so far as keeping my business to myself was concerned. My first impression of Mr. Rendall was of height, and a certain quiet, formidable quality. He was grey-haired, with a close-clipped grizzled moustache, loose clothes as though he had shrunk a little in girth, and the unmistakable air of a man who had seen considerably more of the world than the island of Ransay. He received me quite politely and hospitably, but with every moment that passed I grew more acutely conscious of something deterrent behind his courtesy. A sense of a strong personality in the background, not actually hostile as yet, but ironic and critical, set me instinctively and instantly on guard. Not that I actually suspected the man; but to take him straightway into my confidence was simply impossible. A man of another temperament might have done so⁠—and quite possibly have been right; but his effect on me was like tapping a limpet.

I gave him my name and then I said in a quiet confidential way,

“Forgive this intrusion, Mr. Rendall, but the fact is my ship has evidently been called away.”

I glanced towards the window, and following my look he could see the smoke of the cruiser just visible on the horizon. He gave a little nod but said nothing.

“I was landed last night on a certain piece of business,” I went on, “and it is no part of that business to make myself conspicuous, and so I have taken the liberty of coming to your house.”

“You wish to wait here till your ship returns?” he enquired.

“I thought perhaps you might know of some lodging where I might remain quietly.”

He smiled slightly.

“You had better stay here. There is no other lodging.”

I began to thank him, but he cut me short.

“It is Hobson’s choice,” said he, “and my house is not overcrowded at present. Have you lunched?”

“I am afraid I haven’t.”

“Come and join us. My daughter and I had just sat down.”

He moved towards the door.

“I have no luggage,” I said.

“I can lend you what you want.”

I thanked him again, and said brazenly,

“May I ask for the loan of a coat. I am anxious not to exhibit my uniform coat in the island if I can help it.”

I thought he looked a trifle surprised (it must be remembered that all this time I