Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
She started to her feet. It occurred to Alban that the speediest way of
pacifying her might be by means of the pipe. Mere words would exercise
no persuasive influence over that bewildered mind. Instant action, of
some kind, would be far more likely to have the right effect. He put his
pipe and his tobacco pouch into her hands, and so mastered her attention
before he spoke.
“Do you know how to fill a man’s pipe for him?” he asked.
“Haven’t I filled my husband’s pipe hundreds of times?” she answered
sharply.
“Very well. Now do it for me.”
She took her chair again instantly, and filled the pipe. He lighted it,
and seated himself on the grass, quietly smoking. “Do you think I’m in
league with her now?” he asked, purposely adopting the rough tone of a
man in her own rank of life.
She answered him as she might have answered her husband, in the days of
her unhappy marriage.
“Oh, don’t gird at me, there’s a good man! If I’ve been off my head for
a minute or two, please not to notice me. It’s cool and quiet here,”
the poor woman said gratefully. “Bless God for the darkness; there’s
something comforting in the darkness--along with a good man like you.
Give me a word of advice. You are my friend in need. What am I to do? I
daren’t go back to the house!”
She was quiet enough now, to suggest the hope that she might be able
to give Alban some information “Were you with Miss de Sor,” he asked,
“before you came out here? What did she do to frighten you?”
There was no answer; Mrs. Ellmother had abruptly risen once more.
“Hush!” she whispered. “Don’t I hear somebody near us?”
Alban at once went back, along the winding path which they had followed.
No creature was visible in the gardens or on the terrace. On returning,
he found it impossible to use his eyes to any good purpose in the
obscurity among the trees. He waited a while, listening intently. No
sound was audible: there was not even air enough to stir the leaves.
As he returned to the place that he had left, the silence was broken by
the chimes of the distant church clock, striking the three-quarters past
ten.
Even that familiar sound jarred on Mrs. Ellmother’s shattered nerves. In
her state of mind and body, she was evidently at the mercy of any false
alarm which might be raised by her own fears. Relieved of the feeling
of distrust which had thus far troubled him, Alban sat down by her
again--opened his match-box to relight his pipe--and changed his mind.
Mrs. Ellmother had unconsciously warned him to be cautious.
For the first time, he thought it likely that the heat in the house
might induce some of the inmates to try the cooler atmosphere in the
grounds. If this happened, and if he continued to smoke, curiosity might
tempt them to follow the scent of tobacco hanging on the stagnant air.
“Is there nobody near us?” Mrs. Ellmother asked. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. Now tell me, did you really mean it, when you said just now
that you wanted my advice?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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