The Quiet Gentleman

“I went to sleep!” Martin said. “I think I must have slept for hours, because it was very little past dawn when I got that sack off my head, and it was past noon when I woke up, judging from the sun. I felt better then, and I set out to get to the nearest village. Such a figure as I must have looked! I could see they took me for a common vagrant, at the ale-house. They had no post there, of course, and the landlord said he had no horse I might hire, but I might be accommodated at Guyhirne, which was not far.”

“And were you?”

“No. That is — ” Martin stole a glance from his brother’s face to Miss Morville’s. “I didn’t go there. I know this was folly, but — I fell in with some country-fellow driving a waggon, and he took me up, and that was when I learned what had happened to you, St. Erth!”

“Learned it from a waggoner?”

“I might have learned it from a dozen such, I daresay! Some carrier who was at Cheringham this morning spread the story everywhere he went! The waggoner told me that you had been murdered and that I had disappeared, and was being everywhere looked-for! Of course, I might have guessed it wasn’t as bad as that, but — well, I — ”

“Took fright?”

“I didn’t know what to do!” Martin blurted out. “I thought if anyone recognized me — or guessed who I was — I should find myself hustled off to gaol — I, Martin Frant! All I could think of to do was to get back here without being seen, and — and discover how it was, and think what I must do. But that fellow, Chard, was hunting for me, and I had been seen, of course, though no one knew me, all that way from Stanyon, and in such a rig! But I suppose when he described me, and what I was wearing, those curst bumpkins set him on my track. He came up with me in that village — driving my gig, tool — and — and then I heard how it was, and he brought me home as though I had been a felon, and he my gaoler, bringing me up to the Assize, or something! And after that, there was Theo — and Ulverston! — not believing a word I said, and declaring I should not see you! But I had to see you, and tell you — !”

Miss Morville, who had been watching the weary face against the pillow, said: “Well, Martin, now that you have done so, I shall be very much obliged to you if you will go away again, and leave his lordship to sleep! There is nothing more to be done tonight, you know, and I daresay, if you wish it, your brother will see you again tomorrow.”

She wished then that she had not said this, for the Earl moved his head in a gesture of dissent, and his lips framed the one word: “No.”

Martin saw it too, and said sharply: “St. Erth, you can’t mean — St. Erth, you’ll let me come and see you tomorrow, surely!”

“No. You can have nothing more to say to me. Keep away from this room! When I am on my feet again — we will see.”

A frightened look, almost one of panic, came into Martin’s face. He started forward involuntarily, exclaiming: “Gervase, you don’t mean, to accuse me of this? You can’t think I would commit murder!”

A queer little smile flitted across the Earl’s eyes. “You haven’t murdered me.”

“I never tried to! You must believe me! We’re — we’re half-brothers! Only think of the scandal!”

“I have thought of it. I told Theo I had caught a glimpse of a thick-set fellow, dressed in homespuns, hiding in the thicket.”

Martin drew a shuddering sigh. “I knew you could not — did you see such a fellow?”

“I saw no one.”

“Are you sure of that?” Martin asked, frowning down at him. “Because — Well, never mind!” He caught Miss Morville’s eye, and said: “Oh, very well! I’m going! Only if you are afraid to let me enter your room, and I am to have Chard standing guard over me in this way — ”

“You shall be relieved of Chard. Before you go, tell me how that panel works!”

“I wonder you should never have been shown! I remember when my father first showed it to me: I can’t have been more than ten years old.”

“Very likely. I had not the felicity of standing upon such easy terms with him. How is it opened?”

“Oh, it is quite a knacky thing! It has a queer latch upon the inside, with a stop on it, so that when it is down the panel cannot slide back. You may open it from this side by twisting one of the bosses at the head of that pillar.” He stepped up to the wall, and laid his hand on the boss. “This one. It has a device which lifts the latch, if you turn it — like this!”

“Ingenious! May I ask now the panel is secured from this room?”

“It ain’t. You may only secure it from the inside. That’s very simply done: you have only to thrust a wedge between the latch and the guard, so that it can’t be raised. If that’s done, the boss won’t move, of course. I daresay that when they came spying out priests’ holes, in the old days, they used to try if any of the mouldings of the wainscots could be moved. This would have baffled them!”

“No doubt. Is there no means of securing the entrance at the bottom of the stair?”

“No, but the cupboard is kept locked. We don’t use it nowadays.”