The Guinea Stamp (19 page)

FOURTEEN - Miss Feniton’s Suspicions are Verified

Mr. Cholcombe had been two days absent from Shalbeare House when Lady Feniton came into the morning room where Joanna and Kitty were sitting alone after breakfast. She looked flustered, a thing unusual with her.

“Such a to-do!” she began. “Here’s your grandfather almost beside himself with rage, Joanna, over what he terms a most outrageous act of vandalism!”

Joanna looked up in amazement, while Kitty Lodge could not help staring at her hostess.

“Grandpapa vexed?” asked Joanna, incredulously. “Pray, ma’am, whatever can have happened to put him into a taking? He is in general the most placid person of my acquaintance!”

“You should see him at the moment,” recommended her grandmother, “and you would not say so! And all over a book, too! Mind you, I think it a great deal too bad of whoever is responsible; but it is only one of those stupid travel books, after all—nothing of the least value!”

“But what exactly has happened?” persisted Miss Feniton. “Can it be—can someone possibly have torn up one of my grandfather’s books, then? I cannot imagine who would do such a thing!”

“It has not exactly been torn,” said Lady Feniton. “Only a piece cut out of it, neatly, as if with scissors. Indeed, I defy anyone to notice it, unless they should happen to be paying particular attention to the text—and who would be likely to, with a book of that kind? No one but your grandfather, I’ll be bound!”

Joanna’s heart missed a beat. “Do I understand you to say that it is simply one page of the book which has been mutilated?” she asked.

“Not even one whole page!” exclaimed Lady Feniton. “A single word is what has put Feniton in such a bother! Why, whatever is amiss, Joanna? Do not tell me that you are to fall into a taking over the stupid affair, too!”

These words caused Kitty to eye her friend sharply. She was just in time to catch Joanna’s quickly controlled look of concern.

“Is there anything wrong, Jo?” she asked, curiously.

“Only that I cannot at all understand the whole silly affair,” replied Miss Feniton, lightly. “Has Grandpapa made any effort to discover who is responsible for the outrage, ma’am?”

“You may be sure that he has! Never have I seen him bestir himself so over any matter in my recollection! He is even now questioning all the servants in turn. I came away, for I cannot waste half the morning in such a foolish commotion! For all we can know, it may have been done many years since—perhaps, even, Geoffrey may—but, there, I do not really credit such a notion!”

“Possibly Mr. Cholcombe may have done it when he was on a visit here as a boy,” suggested Kitty, with a mischievous look in Joanna’s direction.

“Mm!” Lady Feniton considered this for a moment in silence.

“I doubt if there would be enough devilment in such an action to appeal to the boy that he was in those days,” she said, at last. “In any event, it’s of no consequence that I can see. The thing is done, and no one a mite the worse for it, except for your grandfather’s choler.”

She swept out of the room, leaving Kitty and Joanna sharing an amused glance.

“What a silly trick!” said Kitty. “Do you suppose. someone can have meant to spite Sir Walter, Jo?”

Joanna shook her head, hesitating to reply. She was saved the necessity of thinking of something to say by the sudden entrance of three other members of their party. It was evident from the expressions on their faces that they had something of special interest to impart.

“Here is the most splendid news!” exclaimed Georgina Masterman, radiant in a morning gown of white muslin trimmed with blue ribbons and lace. “They tell me that there are five or six men-of-war at anchor in the Bay!”

“If it is true,” said Guy Dorlais, “I must go down and take a look. If it should chance to be some of Cornwallis’s lot, many of them are known to me, and I should not like to miss the opportunity of renewing our acquaintance. What do you say, Masterman? Shall we step down to the quay, presently?”

“I should like it extremely,” replied Captain Masterman, in an apologetic tone, “but for the fact that I am engaged to accompany my sister to Totnes today. We must leave soon after luncheon, Georgina,” he added, turning to her with a smile.

She did not return it. “But, William, surely there can be no occasion to leave today! I am promised to the Radletts for any time during the rest of the week—there is nothing definite—tomorrow, or the day after, will suit me just as well. There is no need of haste.”

He looked a trifle put out, but soon overcame the emotion.

“I believe that it must be today,” he said, with quiet insistence. “I am sorry, Georgie, but I really must look in on Colonel Kellaway to see if there is anything he wishes me to be doing. I have had a long spell of leave, you know.”

“Oh, you and your stupid playing at soldiers!” she said, with a petulant shrug. “As though they may not manage very well without you!”

This waspish speech caused Joanna to look at Masterman with a hint of sympathy.

“I am afraid I must insist,” he said, in a different tone. “Perhaps you had best start your packing now, my dear sister.”

Somewhat to the surprise of everyone present, Miss Masterman raised no further objection, and very soon left the room to do as her brother suggested. Guy Dorlais repeated his intention of going down to the quay. He did not request Kitty to accompany him, and she tried not to look as if she had expected such an invitation.

When Captain Masterman left the room in order to see about transport for himself and his sister, Guy accompanied him. After sitting still for a moment, moodily gazing into the fire, Kitty sprang suddenly to her feet.

“I am going to walk for a little in the shrubbery, Jo,” she announced with a flurried air.

“Should you like me to come, too?” asked her friend, starting from her chair.

“No—no, thank you,” said Kitty, hurriedly. “The fact is, Joanna, I wish to be alone for a space. I—I want to think.”

Miss Feniton gave her a compassionate look. “I understand, my dear. But be sure and wrap up warmly, for the wind is very keen today, and we must not have you taking cold.”

The tears came suddenly to Kitty’s eyes.

“You—you are so good, Jo!” she stammered, incoherently, and made a dash from the room.

Joanna made as if to follow her, but subsided into her chair again. It was of no use for her to try and advise Kitty. Her friend must come to terms with herself. Besides, she had another idea in mind, though for a time she struggled to resist it. It offended all her notions of propriety, but she was almost certain that this was one time when what was proper must yield to what was necessary. She reflected that if the man Jackson had been available, she could have left such an unpleasant undertaking in his hands. There was no saying where he might be, and meanwhile she was the only person on the spot. She must act, little as she liked it.

She had been seriously disturbed by Lady Feniton’s account of the mishap to one of Grandfather’s books. Idle act of vandalism though it must seem to her grandparents, to her it wore a very different and more sinister appearance. She had not forgotten Captain Jackson’s description of the orders left for him in the Cove by the enemy; judging by the evidence, it would appear that the man responsible for composing those orders must have been at some time under her very own roof.

She fancied, too, that she knew who he was. All her former suspicions of Guy Dorlais came rushing back in full force. She felt that she must make some push to confirm or deny them, and now was her opportunity to do this. With Guy Dorlais and Kitty out of the house, and Captain Masterman and his sister busily engaged in their own concerns, it should be possible for her to gain access unseen to Guy Dorlais’s bedchamber. Sir George Lodge would no doubt be assisting her grandfather in the inquiry which was being conducted in the library, while Lady Lodge had not yet risen. As for her grandmother, at this hour of day she was usually closeted with the housekeeper.

The glimpse which she caught through the window of Kitty toiling along against the wind on the path which led through the shrubbery, hardened her resolve. For Kitty’s sake, she must try to discover the truth.

She rose quickly from her chair and took her way upstairs, before she could change her mind. Even now, she was not fully convinced that she ought to pry. Had there been the least difficulty over gaining access to Guy’s room, she might have faltered in her purpose; but when she reached his door, there was not a soul in sight in the passage.

She opened the door, heart beating fast, and slipped quickly into the room. Then she paused, heartily disliking her self-appointed task.

The room allotted to Guy Dorlais was large, and had evidently recently received the attentions of a housemaid. A bright red silk coverlet was disposed neatly over the bed, the fire had been tended, the hearth swept, and the contents of the room set in order. The flap of the dressing table was shut down, and nothing stood on its brightly polished surface.

It was to this article of furniture that Joanna went first, timorously lifting the hinged leaf which held the looking glass. She set it upright, revealing the space beneath. It contained the usual articles for a gentleman’s toilet—razors, brushes, a comb, a bottle of Macassar oil and a pair of nail scissors. The only thing which Joanna had any difficulty in identifying was a small bottle of dark brown liquid with which she did not concern herself for more than a second, as it seemed little to the purpose of her quest. A few moment’s search was sufficient to convince her that there was nothing more sinister here than she might find in her own grandfather’s dressing table. She closed the leaf again, and opened the drawers of the table one by one.

Here again, she found nothing unexpected. Cravats, handkerchieves, hose, all were lifted and carefully replaced without anything of the least interest being uncovered.

She was again assailed by a violent dislike of her task, and was half minded to give it up then and there. Supposing anyone should enter the room, and find her there? What possible excuse could she make? Supposing she had been mistaken about Mr. Dorlais, and he was in reality innocent of any traitorous activities?

She squared her shoulders, in that moment looking, had she but known it, very like her grandmother. She might as well finish what she had come to do. If Mr. Dorlais were innocent, then he had nothing to hide. If not, then it was plainly her duty to try and unmask him.

There was a closet set in one wall of the bedchamber. She walked towards it, and resolutely pulled open the door.

It was here that Mr. Dorlais kept his suits and outdoor garments. She passed them all in review, wondering where to start. It seemed improbable that she would have time to look through every pocket of all those coats, waistcoats and small clothes. Neither did the notion of tackling such a task appeal very greatly to her. There was something so particularly repulsive about searching in the pockets of a guest.

Perhaps that was why she picked up one of a pair of boots which was standing in a rack to one side of the closet. She could have had no notion of finding anything of interest in a boot. Yet that is what happened. She caught hold of the boot by its heel, and it swung in her hand. Amazed, she turned the boot upside down, and subjected the heel to a long scrutiny.

She made the unexpected discovery that it was screwed on to the boot. A second’s thought, and she was unscrewing it feverishly. It came off in her hand, revealing a small opening underneath. She caught the glint of something metallic inside, and probed with an exploratory finger. She produced what she took to be a large coin.

She dropped the boot, and, stepping outside the closet, walked over to an adjacent window. Holding the object to the light, she studied it carefully.

Suddenly, all her senses became alert. She had heard the tiniest of sounds from the direction of the door to the room. She glanced across, and saw to her horror that the doorknob was slowly turning.

Quick as thought, she slipped behind the thick folds of the full length red damask curtains. Her heart was beating so loudly that she was certain it must be heard by whoever was now about to enter the room.

She did not dare to look, but she heard the soft closing of the door, and the quiet footfall of the newcomer on the thick pile of the carpet. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, hoping against hope that it was not Guy Dorlais returned. This seemed scarcely likely if he had carried out his original intention of going down to the quay. She could not imagine, though, who else it could be. The housemaids had evidently done their rounds, and it was unlikely that they would return again until the evening.

It seemed that she waited there for an eternity. She could hear the newcomer padding about the room, and finally stepping through the open door of the closet. A smothered exclamation reached her ears, then a quick footstep.

Before she could open her mouth to let out the startled ejaculation which rose to her lips, the curtain which concealed her had been dragged ruthlessly aside. She found herself looking into the surprised eyes of Captain Masterman.

There was a moment’s silence. He was the first to break it.

“Miss Feniton! What are you doing here?”

She did not ask what business it was of his: instead, she echoed his question.