第8章
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  “Gerald!“Mr。Fentolinrepeated。

  Thenitwasobviousthattherewassomethingbetweenthosetwo,somememoryorsomelivingthing,seldom,ifever,tobespokenof,andyetalwayspresent。Theboybegantotremble。

  “You’realittleoverwrought,Gerald,“Mr。Fentolindeclared。

  “Sitquietlyinmyeasy-chairforafewmoments。WaltuntilIhaveexaminedMr。Dunster’sbelongings。Ah!Meekinshasbeenprompt,indeed。“

  Therewasastealthytapatthedoor。Meekinsenteredwiththesmalldressing-caseinhishand。Hebroughtitovertohismaster’schair。Mr。Fentolinpointedtothefloor。

  “Openitthere,Meekins,“hedirected。“Ifancythatthepocket-bookyouarecarryingwillprovemoreinteresting。Wewilljustglancethroughthedressing-casefirst。Thankyou。Yes,youcanlaythethingsuponthefloor。AmanofSpartan-likelife,IshouldimagineMr。Dunster。Asparetoothbrush,though,Iamgladtosee。Pyjamasofmostunattractivepattern。Andwhatatasteinshirts!Nothingbutwearingapparelandsingularlylittleofthat,Ifancy。“

  Thedressing-casewasempty,itscontentsuponthefloor。Mr。

  Fentolinheldouthishandandtookthepocket-bookwhichMeekinshadbeencarrying。Itwasanordinarymoroccoaffair,similartothoseissuedbyAmericanbankinghousestoencloselettersofcredit。

  Onesideofitwasfilledwithnotes。Mr。Fentolinwithdrewthemandglancedthemthrough。

  “Dearme!“hemurmured。“Nowonderourfriendengagesspecialtrains!Hetravelslikeaprince,indeed。Twothousandpounds,ornearit,inthislittlecompartment。Andhere,Isee,aletter,asealedletterwithnoaddress。“

  Hehelditoutinfrontofhim。Itwasalongcommercialenvelopeofordinarytype,andalthoughtheflapwassecuredwithablobofsealingwax,therewasnoparticularimpressionuponit。

  “Wecanmatchthisenvelope,Ithink,“Mr。Fentolinsaidsoftly。

  “Thesealwecancopy。Ithinkthat,forthesakeofothers,wemustdiscoverthecauseforthishurriedjourneyonthepartofMr。

  JohnP。Dunster。“

  Withhislong,delicateforefingerMr。Fentolinslittheenvelopeandwithdrewthesinglesheetofpaperwhichitcontained。Therewereadozenlinesofwrittenmatter,andwhatappearedtobeadozensignaturesappended。Mr。Fentolinreadit,atfirstwithordinaryinterest。Thenachangecame。Thelookofamandrawnoutofhimself,drawnoutofallknowledgeofhissurroundingsorhispresentstate,stoleintohisface。Literallyhebecametransfixed。Thedelicatefingersofhis,lefthandgrippedthesidesofhislittlecarriage。Hiseyesshoneasthoughthosefewwrittenlinesuponwhichtheywererivetedwereindeedsomemessagefromanunknown,anunimaginedworld。Yetnowordeverpassedhislips。Therecameatimewhenthetensionseemedalittlerelaxed。

  Withfingerswhichstilltrembled,hefoldedupthesheetandreplaceditintheenvelope。Heguardeditwithbothhishandsandsatquitestill。NeitherGeraldnorhisservantmoved。Somehow,thesenseofMr。Fentolin’ssuppressedexcitementseemedtohavebecomecommunicatedtothem。Itwasalittletableau,brokenatlastbyMr。Fentolinhimself。

  “Ishouldlike,“hesaid,turningtoGerald,“tobealone。ItmayinterestyoutoknowthatthisdocuwhichMr。Dunsterhasbroughtacrosstheseas,andwhichIholdinmyhands,isthemostamazingmessageofmoderntimes。“

  Geraldrosetohisfeet。

  “Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?“heaskedabruptly。“Doyouwantanyoneinfromthetelegraphroom?“

  Mr。Fentolinshookhisheadslowly。

  “Atpresent,“heannounced,“Iamgoingtoreflect。Meekins,mychairtothenorthwindow-so。Iamgoingtosithere,“hewenton,“andIamgoingtolookacrossthesea_andreflect。Averyfortunatestorm,afterall,Ithink,whichkeptMr。JohnP。DunsterfromtheHarwichboatlastnight。Leaveme,Gerald,foratime。

  Standbehindmychair,Meekins,andseethatnooneenters。“

  Mr。Fentolinsatinhischair,hishandsstillgrippingthewonderfuldocument,hiseyestravellingovertheoceannowfleckedwithsunlight。Hiseyeswerefixeduponthehorizon。Helookedsteadilyeastward。

  Mr。JohnP。Dunsteropenedhiseyesuponstrangesurroundings。Hefoundhimselflyinguponabeddeliciouslysoft,withlace-edgedsheetsandlavender-perfumedbedhangings。Throughthediscreetlyopenedupperwindowcameapleasantandozone-ladenbreeze。Thefurnitureintheroomwasmostlyofanold-fashionedtype,someofitofoak,curiouslycarved,andmostofitsurmountedwithacoatofarms。Theapartmentwasloftyandofalmostpalatialproportions。

  Thewholeatmosphereoftheplacebreathedcomfortandrefinement。

  Theonlythingofwhichhedidnotwhollyapprovewasthefaceofthenursewhorosesilentlytoherfeetathismurmuredquestion:

  “WhereamI?“

  Shefelthisforehead,alteredabandageforamoment,andtookhiswristbetweenherfingers。

  “Youhavebeenill,“shesaid。“Therewasarailwayaccident。Youaretoliequitestillandnotsayaword。Iamgoingtofetchthedoctornow。Hewishedtoseeyoudirectlyyouspoke。“

  Mr。Dunsterdozedagainforseveralmoments。Whenhereopenedhiseyes,amanwasstandingbyhisbedside,ashortmanwithablackbeardandgold-rimmedglasses。Mr。Dunster,inthisfirststageofhisconvalescence,wasperhapsdifficulttoplease,forhedidnotlikethelookofthedoctor,either。

  “PleasetellmewhereIam?“hebegged。

  “Youhavebeeninarailwayaccident,“thedoctortoldhim,“andyouwerebroughthereafterwards。“

  “Inarailwayaccident,“Mr。Dunsterrepeated。“Ah,yes,Iremember!

  ItookaspecialtoHarwich-Iremembernow。Whereismydressing-bag?“

  “Itisherebythesideofyourbed。“

  “Andmypocket-book?“

  “Itisonyourdressing-table。“

  “Haveanyofmythingsbeenlookedat?“

  “Onlysofaraswasnecessarytodiscoveryouridentity,“thedoctorassuredhim。“Don’ttalktoomuch。Thenurseisbringingyousomebeeftea。“

  “When,“Mr。Dunsterenquired,“shallIbeabletocontinuemyjourney?“

  “Thatdependsuponmanythings,“thedoctorreplied。

  Mr。Dunsterdrankhisbeefteaandfeltconsiderablystronger。Hisheadstillached,buthismemorywasreturning。

  “Therewasayoungmaninthecarriagewithme,“heaskedpresently。

  “Mr。GeraldsomethingorotherIthinkhesaidhisnamewas?“

  “Fentolin,“thedoctorsaid。“Heisunhurt。Thisishisrelative’shousetowhichyouhavebeenbrought。“

  Mr。Dunsterlayforatimewithknittedbrows。OncemorethenameofFentolinseemedsomehowfamiliartohim,seemedsomehowtobringwithittohismemoryanoteofwarning。Helookedaroundtheroomfretfully。Helookedintothenurse’sface,whichhedislikedexceedingly,andhelookedatthedoctor,whomhewasbeginningtodetest。

  “Whosehouseexactlyisthis?“hedemanded。

  “ThisisSt。David’sHall-thehomeofMr。MilesFentolin,“thedoctortoldhim。“Theyounggentlemanwithwhomyouweretravellingishisnephew。“

  “CanIsendatelegram?“Mr。Dunsterasked,alittleabruptly。

  “Withoutadoubt,“thedoctorreplied。“Mr。Fentolindesiredmetoaskyouiftherewasanyonewhomyouwouldliketoappriseofyoursafety。“

  Againthemanuponthebedlayquitestill,withknittedbrows。

  Therewassurelysomethingfamiliaraboutthatname。Wasithisfeveredfancyorwastherealsosomethingalittlesinister?

  Thenurse,whohadglidedfromtheroom,camebackpresentlywithsometelegraphforms。Mr。Dunsterheldouthishandforthemandthenhesitated。

  “Canyoutellmeanydate,Doctor,uponwhichIcanrelyuponleavinghere?“

  “Youwillprobablybewellenoughtotravelonthethirddayfromnow,“thedoctorassuredhim。

  “Thethirdday,“Mr。Dunstermuttered。“Verywell。“

  Hewroteoutthreetelegramsandpassedthemover。

  “One,“hesaid,“istoNewYork,onetoTheHague,andonetoLondon。

  Therewasplentyofmoneyinmypocket。Perhapsyouwillfinditandpayforthese。“

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