CHAPTER XXI--GREEN LIGHT
When old Mr. Salton had retired for the night, Adam and Sir
Nathaniel returned to the study. Things went with great regularity
at Lesser Hill, so they knew that there would be no interruption to
their talk.
When their cigars were lighted, Sir Nathaniel began.
"I hope, Adam, that you do not think me either slack or changeable
of purpose. I mean to go through this business to the bitter end--
whatever it may be. Be satisfied that my first care is, and shall
be, the protection of Mimi Watford. To that I am pledged; my dear
boy, we who are interested are all in the same danger. That semi-
human monster out of the pit hates and means to destroy us all--you
and me certainly, and probably your uncle. I wanted especially to
talk with you to-night, for I cannot help thinking that the time is
fast coming--if it has not come already--when we must take your
uncle into our confidence. It was one thing when fancied evils
threatened, but now he is probably marked for death, and it is only
right that he should know all."
"I am with you, sir. Things have changed since we agreed to keep
him out of the trouble. Now we dare not; consideration for his
feelings might cost his life. It is a duty--and no light or
pleasant one, either. I have not a shadow of doubt that he will
want to be one with us in this. But remember, we are his guests;
his name, his honour, have to be thought of as well as his safety."
"All shall be as you wish, Adam. And now as to what we are to do?
We cannot murder Lady Arabella off-hand. Therefore we shall have to
put things in order for the killing, and in such a way that we
cannot be taxed with a crime."
"It seems to me, sir, that we are in an exceedingly tight place.
Our first difficulty is to know where to begin. I never thought
this fighting an antediluvian monster would be such a complicated
job. This one is a woman, with all a woman's wit, combined with the
heartlessness of a COCOTTE. She has the strength and impregnability
of a diplodocus. We may be sure that in the fight that is before us
there will be no semblance of fair-play. Also that our unscrupulous
opponent will not betray herself!"
"That is so--but being feminine, she will probably over-reach
herself. Now, Adam, it strikes me that, as we have to protect
ourselves and others against feminine nature, our strong game will
be to play our masculine against her feminine. Perhaps we had
better sleep on it. She is a thing of the night; and the night may
give us some ideas."
So they both turned in.
Adam knocked at Sir Nathaniel's door in the grey of the morning,
and, on being bidden, came into the room. He had several letters in
his hand. Sir Nathaniel sat up in bed.
"Well!"
"I should like to read you a few letters, but, of course, I shall
not send them unless you approve. In fact"--with a smile and a
blush--"there are several things which I want to do; but I hold my
hand and my tongue till I have your approval."
"Go on!" said the other kindly. "Tell me all, and count at any rate
on my sympathy, and on my approval and help if I can see my way."
Accordingly Adam proceeded:
"When I told you the conclusions at which I had arrived, I put in
the foreground that Mimi Watford should, for the sake of her own
safety, be removed--and that the monster which had wrought all the
harm should be destroyed."
"Yes, that is so."
"To carry this into practice, sir, one preliminary is required--
unless harm of another kind is to be faced. Mimi should have some
protector whom all the world would recognise. The only form
recognised by convention is marriage!"
Sir Nathaniel smiled in a fatherly way.
"To marry, a husband is required. And that husband should be you."
"Yes, yes."
"And the marriage should be immediate and secret--or, at least, not
spoken of outside ourselves. Would the young lady be agreeable to
that proceeding?"
"I do not know, sir!"
"Then how are we to proceed?"
"I suppose that we--or one of us--must ask her."
"Is this a sudden idea, Adam, a sudden resolution?"
"A sudden resolution, sir, but not a sudden idea. If she agrees,
all is well and good. The sequence is obvious."
"And it is to be kept a secret amongst ourselves?"
"I want no secret, sir, except for Mimi's good. For myself, I
should like to shout it from the house-tops! But we must be
discreet; untimely knowledge to our enemy might work incalculable
harm."
"And how would you suggest, Adam, that we could combine the
momentous question with secrecy?"
Adam grew red and moved uneasily.
"Someone must ask her--as soon as possible!"
"And that someone?"
"I thought that you, sir, would be so good!"
"God bless my soul! This is a new kind of duty to take on--at my
time of life. Adam, I hope you know that you can count on me to
help in any way I can!"
"I have already counted on you, sir, when I ventured to make such a
suggestion. I can only ask," he added, "that you will be more than
ever kind to me--to us--and look on the painful duty as a voluntary
act of grace, prompted by kindness and affection."
"Painful duty!"
"Yes," said Adam boldly. "Painful to you, though to me it would be
all joyful."
"It is a strange job for an early morning! Well, we all live and
learn. I suppose the sooner I go the better. You had better write
a line for me to take with me. For, you see, this is to be a
somewhat unusual transaction, and it may be embarrassing to the
lady, even to myself. So we ought to have some sort of warrant,
something to show that we have been mindful of her feelings. It
will not do to take acquiescence for granted--although we act for
her good."
"Sir Nathaniel, you are a true friend; I am sure that both Mimi and
I shall be grateful to you for all our lives--however long they may
be!"
So the two talked it over and agreed as to points to be borne in
mind by the ambassador. It was striking ten when Sir Nathaniel left
the house, Adam seeing him quietly off.
As the young man followed him with wistful eyes--almost jealous of
the privilege which his kind deed was about to bring him--he felt
that his own heart was in his friend's breast.
The memory of that morning was like a dream to all those concerned
in it. Sir Nathaniel had a confused recollection of detail and
sequence, though the main facts stood out in his memory boldly and
clearly. Adam Salton's recollection was of an illimitable wait,
filled with anxiety, hope, and chagrin, all dominated by a sense of
the slow passage of time and accompanied by vague fears. Mimi could
not for a long time think at all, or recollect anything, except that
Adam loved her and was saving her from a terrible danger. When she
had time to think, later on, she wondered when she had any ignorance
of the fact that Adam loved her, and that she loved him with all her
heart. Everything, every recollection however small, every feeling,
seemed to fit into those elemental facts as though they had all been
moulded together. The main and crowning recollection was her saying
goodbye to Sir Nathaniel, and entrusting to him loving messages,
straight from her heart, to Adam Salton, and of his bearing when--
with an impulse which she could not check--she put her lips to his
and kissed him. Later, when she was alone and had time to think, it
was a passing grief to her that she would have to be silent, for a
time, to Lilla on the happy events of that strange mission.
She had, of course, agreed to keep all secret until Adam should give
her leave to speak.
The advice and assistance of Sir Nathaniel was a great help to Adam
in carrying out his idea of marrying Mimi Watford without publicity.
He went with him to London, and, with his influence, the young man
obtained the license of the Archbishop of Canterbury for a private
marriage. Sir Nathaniel then persuaded old Mr. Salton to allow his
nephew to spend a few weeks with him at Doom Tower, and it was here
that Mimi became Adam's wife. But that was only the first step in
their plans; before going further, however, Adam took his bride off
to the Isle of Man. He wished to place a stretch of sea between
Mimi and the White Worm, while things matured. On their return, Sir
Nathaniel met them and drove them at once to Doom, taking care to
avoid any one that he knew on the journey.
Sir Nathaniel had taken care to have the doors and windows shut and
locked--all but the door used for their entry. The shutters were up
and the blinds down. Moreover, heavy curtains were drawn across the
windows. When Adam commented on this, Sir Nathaniel said in a
whisper:
"Wait till we are alone, and I'll tell you why this is done; in the
meantime not a word or a sign. You will approve when we have had a
talk together."
They said no more on the subject till after dinner, when they were
ensconced in Sir Nathaniel's study, which was on the top storey.
Doom Tower was a lofty structure, situated on an eminence high up in
the Peak. The top commanded a wide prospect, ranging from the hills
above the Ribble to the near side of the Brow, which marked the
northern bound of ancient Mercia. It was of the early Norman
period, less than a century younger than Castra Regis. The windows
of the study were barred and locked, and heavy dark curtains closed
them in. When this was done not a gleam of light from the tower
could be seen from outside.
When they were alone, Sir Nathaniel explained that he had taken his
old friend, Mr. Salton, into full confidence, and that in future all
would work together.
"It is important for you to be extremely careful. In spite of the
fact that our marriage was kept secret, as also your temporary
absence, both are known."
"How? To whom?"
"How, I know not; but I am beginning to have an idea."
"To her?" asked Adam, in momentary consternation.
Sir Nathaniel shivered perceptibly.
"The White Worm--yes!"
Adam noticed that from now on, his friend never spoke of Lady
Arabella otherwise, except when he wished to divert the suspicion of
others.
Sir Nathaniel switched off the electric light, and when the room was
pitch dark, he came to Adam, took him by the hand, and led him to a
seat set in the southern window. Then he softly drew back a piece
of the curtain and motioned his companion to look out.
Adam did so, and immediately shrank back as though his eyes had
opened on pressing danger. His companion set his mind at rest by
saying in a low voice:
"It is all right; you may speak, but speak low. There is no danger
here--at present!"
Adam leaned forward, taking care, however, not to press his face
against the glass. What he saw would not under ordinary
circumstances have caused concern to anybody. With his special
knowledge, it was appalling--though the night was now so dark that
in reality there was little to be seen.
On the western side of the tower stood a grove of old trees, of
forest dimensions. They were not grouped closely, but stood a
little apart from each other, producing the effect of a row widely
planted. Over the tops of them was seen a green light, something
like the danger signal at a railway-crossing. It seemed at first
quite still; but presently, when Adam's eye became accustomed to it,
he could see that it moved as if trembling. This at once recalled
to Adam's mind the light quivering above the well-hole in the
darkness of that inner room at Diana's Grove, Oolanga's awful
shriek, and the hideous black face, now grown grey with terror,
disappearing into the impenetrable gloom of the mysterious orifice.
Instinctively he laid his hand on his revolver, and stood up ready
to protect his wife. Then, seeing that nothing happened, and that
the light and all outside the tower remained the same, he softly
pulled the curtain over the window.
Sir Nathaniel switched on the light again, and in its comforting
glow they began to talk freely.
