He lowered his folding cot, but the flood tide had covered the flats, and the yacht was rolling gently on the swell it brought in before he went to sleep.
Farther up the narrowing Firth the wind was faint, and Elsie, lying awake toward high-water, heard the murmur of the sea. It throbbed in a deep monotone through the stillness that brooded over the fog-wrapped countryside. Elsie listened to it for a time, wondering what Andrew was doing as she glanced at the obscurity outside her window, for the Firth was dangerous to navigate in thick weather. He had promised to return the next day, and she wanted him back at Appleyard. She felt safer when Andrew was about. He was not clever, but he was practical, and one could trust him to do the right thing in a difficulty.
Elsie was glad to remember this, because she had difficulties to contend with. Dick had been restless and depressed, and his occasional efforts at rather boisterous gaiety had emphasized his general moodiness. He was obviously not well; but Elsie thought this did not account for everything. Then her mother had been quieter than usual, and her manner seemed to indicate secret anxiety.
Elsie felt that things were going very wrong at Appleyard. Something mysterious and sinister threatened the household, but she could not combat the danger, because she did not know what it was. Even now, when every one was probably asleep, she had an instinctive feeling that there was mischief on foot. She told herself that she was highly strung and imaginative, but her uneasiness would not be banished. Anyway, she could not sleep. Seeing that the fire had not quite gone out, she got up, finally, and, putting on her slippers and kimono, lighted a small reading lamp. She drew a thick curtain across the window, and then opened a book; but she found that her thoughts would dwell on Andrew, somewhere out in the fog.
With a gesture of impatience, Elsie closed the book and threw it down. It had not made her sleepy, and the room was getting cold, but she did not want to go back to bed and lie awake. Sitting still, she mused and listened. The wind always moaned round Appleyard, and when the nights were still one could hear the hoarse murmur of the Solway tide. Then there were the mysterious sounds that occur in old houses: creaking floors, boards cracking, and now and then the rattle of a door. Elsie was used to these noises, but for no obvious reason her senses were alert.
Suddenly she sat upright. Somewhere downstairs a door was being opened cautiously. Her clock showed that it was just half-past two.
CHAPTER XXI
THE LOST PAPER
The sound of the opening door did not startle Elsie, because of her curious feeling that something unusual was going to happen. With a quick glance at the window she decided not to put out the light. The thick curtain would probably hide it, and, if not, to darken the window suddenly would show that some one was watching. Then it struck her that she had not heard a key being turned or a bolt drawn; but the door fastenings were carefully oiled. Staffer had had this seen to, after having had difficulty with his latchkey one night.
Elsie was curious and highly strung, but not alarmed, for there were no burglars in Annandale. Prompted by the suspicions that had filled her mind lately, she determined to find out who had come in; so, slipping quietly out of her room, she pulled her door to softly and walked to the top of the stairs. The cold draught that came up from the hall showed that the door was open, and she stopped when she had gone down a few steps. So far, she had not paused to reflect, but she recognized now that she had not acted altogether on an unreasoning impulse. Dick and Staffer were at home; but she did not wish to warn Staffer, and she felt it might be better if Dick did not go down.
Leaning over the banister, she heard a low voice in the darkness and it gave her a strange, disturbing thrill. She could catch no words, but the accent reminded her of Munich. Then a ray of light flickered about the hall, and Elsie shrank back, her heart beating fast, as the beam ran up the wall. Some one was using an electric torch. She began to feel that she was in danger; but the light stopped and streamed back again, leaving her in the shadow. After that it flashed round and fell upon two men near the door. They had made no noise, and there was something startling in the way their figures sprang out of the gloom. Both were dressed in oilskins and rubber sea-boots.
One was Williamson; the other a stranger, who in spite of his dress, did not look like a fisherman. He had blue eyes and a stiff, red mustache; but he vanished as the light traveled past him to rest on the door of the library, which opened out of the hall. Then, though Elsie heard no sound, she knew the men had gone in. What was more, she knew that Staffer carried the torch. This was the most disturbing thing; and she leaned upon the banister while she tried to think.
She had frankly distrusted Williamson, feeling that he threatened Dick, and she knew now that she had never really trusted Staffer. He had treated her well; but she imagined this was for her mother's sake; and instead of affection she felt a curious, half-instinctive antagonism for him. After all, she had really not been his guest, but Dick's; Appleyard, which she had come to love, belonged to the Johnstones and not to her uncle. She felt that its peace was threatened; and she determined to find out what the men were doing.
Moving noiselessly, she crept down to the hall, and as she reached it a faint but steady light streamed out of the library door. This was not the torch; Staffer had lighted one of the lamps. For a few moments she stopped and hesitated, trying to master her fears. She knew that she must not be discovered; though it was not Williamson but her uncle she dreaded most. This, however, was not all of her trouble: the stranger's accent had awakened a flood of disturbing memories. She had been kindly treated in Munich, where she had learned her mother's native tongue, and the sound of it had stirred strong, deep-rooted feelings. The man with the red mustache had a look of command, in spite of his rough clothes. She knew the stamp, for she had seen it on officers whose wives had, for a time, been her friends. Some were men she had admired; but now they were her country's enemies.
That was the trouble: one could not belong to two nations, and she was Scotch. Appleyard was her home, and Dick and Andrew, although not her kin, were dearer than any one except her mother; yet her mother's blood was in her veins, and she felt it stirring now. But this must not be allowed. She was her father's daughter, too, and belonged by adoption to the Johnstones. She had accepted their traditions, and now she must side with the men she loved; she felt that they were hers.
Having reached this decision, she realized that she must find a hiding-place from which she could see into the library. She crept across the hall, feeling her way to a tall, old clock that stood against the wall. Its oak case did not project far, but by standing straight behind it she would be in the gloom, and the half-opened hall-door would help to conceal her.
Leaning forward from the corner, she found her view commanded the end of the library table, where Staffer sat beside a shaded lamp, with some documents spread out in front of him. The men bent over the table, examining the papers with eager attention.
For a few moments no one spoke, and then the stranger with the red mustache said something which Elsie did not catch.
"Yes," Staffer returned gruffly, "Rankine is an obstacle, but he doesn't interfere with my part of the business."
Elsie could not hear what followed; but Williamson and the stranger spoke in quiet, earnest tones that suggested that what they had to say was important. Being accustomed to Staffer's voice, she could more easily catch his remarks. Presently he stopped the stranger with an impatient movement of his hand.
"No; you must get into the habit of calling him Sanders!"
The man's face was hidden, but Elsie thought his pose stiffened as if he resented Staffer's tone. This seemed to indicate that he was a man of rank, which something in his bearing had already hinted.
"Well," he said in English, speaking a trifle louder, "if he is watched, as he suspects, you may have some trouble in getting his instructions. To visit him in Edinburgh might lead – "
Elsie could not hear the rest, but she could see Staffer's smile as he answered:
"We have a suitable messenger." He turned to Williamson. "Nobody would suspect Dick, and he'd be safe, because he'd have no idea of what he was doing. He's going up with me in the car to-morrow."
"I'm not sure – " Williamson began; but they had gradually ceased to lower their voices, and Staffer stopped him with a warning sign.
Elsie caught her breath as Staffer suddenly turned in his chair; but he was only looking for a map which was buried beneath the other papers. When he opened it, he spoke quietly, and the others listened with close attention. At first Elsie could not catch a word; but as their caution lessened with their intense interest, an occasional word or phrase reached her.
".. submarine.. coast of.. this line marks."
Staffer's voice dropped to a murmur again; until finally he folded the papers and handed them to the stranger.
"Now it's up to you," he said, quite distinctly. "You know what will happen to you if you fail!"
Elsie crouched back as the men straightened up. She knew the interview was over, but she did not dare risk crossing the hall to the staircase. A clink of glass reached her; and then she stood straight against the wall, pressed close against the old clock, for she knew the men were coming out.
Williamson entered the hall first, and as he pushed the door back the light touched the clock. Its tall case was shallow, and when Williamson turned partly round Elsie's heart beat fast. He went on, however, and the stranger followed, putting the papers Staffer had given him into a pocket under his oilskin coat. He wore thick woolen gloves, but perhaps his hands were cold, for an envelope dropped out at the bottom of the oilskin. It fell a foot or two from where Elsie stood, and she thought she could not escape discovery if he stooped to pick it up; but the next moment the library went suddenly dark. The man passed on, and Staffer flashed on the electric torch as he came out, but its light did not fall near the corner. He extinguished it when the men reached the house door, and Elsie stood very still with tingling nerves.
She had escaped, but the envelope lay on the floor, and she felt that Appleyard was threatened by some plot in which Dick was to be involved. Both must be protected; she must get the paper. Its loss would no doubt embarrass the conspirators, and would probably not be discovered for some time, but she must be quick. Their footsteps were almost noiseless, but she heard them go down the steps. Stooping swiftly, she drew her hand across the floor, found the envelope and thrust it inside her kimono. Then she darted across to the stairs, and when she reached the landing she stopped to listen. It was possible that the stranger might feel if he had all the papers before he left.
No sound reached her, and she breathed a sigh of relief; but she forgot that the others had moved silently, and a flash of light swept up the stairs and struck her face. She was dazzled and alarmed; but with an effort she kept her self-control. It would be dangerous to be seen trying to steal away, but if she remained, looking down over the banisters, her presence might be accounted for.
"Who's there?" she asked in a sharp voice.
For a moment or two the light rested on her face, and she was glad to remember that she would not be expected to look composed.
Staffer laughed as he turned the beam on Williamson.
"Our friend and I," he answered. "I'm sorry we startled you. Perhaps I'd better get a candle."
He looked cool. That was comforting, for it suggested that he did not know she had been in the hall; but she thought it wiser to wait a minute. Staffer struck a match; then he put out the torch and gave the lighted candle to Williamson.
"If you don't want supper, we may as well go upstairs. The room you generally use is ready."
Elsie imagined that Williamson had not meant to stay, but he came up in front of Staffer, carrying the candle. She noted that he wore rubber knee-boots and that Staffer had only his stockings on his feet. When they reached the landing, Williamson looked rather keenly at her, but his face was inscrutable. She could not be sure that he had not seen her behind the clock; and Staffer's attitude might be intended to hide some plan for her embarrassment. But she must keep cool.
"I think we could find Mr. Williamson some cold meat if he is hungry," she said.
"He'd rather have sleep," Staffer answered. "He meant to stay at Langholm, so as to get home early to-morrow; but you can never rely on a motorcycle." He turned to Williamson. "How far did you have to walk when it broke down?"
"Four or five miles, after I'd spent some time trying to put it right," Williamson answered, and made his excuses for disturbing them; but Elsie thought he was taking Staffer's cue, and she knew that they were both watching her. For all that, she smiled as she replied with conventional politeness.
"Well," resumed Staffer, "it's getting cold, and I'll look after Williamson. If you hear a door open another time, you'd better call me instead of going down." He paused a moment, and there was a slight change in his tone. "We know your pluck, but I can't allow you to run a risk."
Elsie turned away with keen relief, and on reaching her room she locked the door before she took out the envelope. The name Thorkelsen was written across it. That suggested a Norwegian or a Dane, and was not what she had expected, but she sat for a time with the envelope in her hand. She had no doubt that it contained some dangerous secret. A plausible excuse had been made for Williamson's visit; but she had noticed his clothes, and deck-boots, which were not what one generally wore when motor-cycling. Then, why had the man in oilskins come to Appleyard when he might have expected every one to be asleep? It looked as if her uncle had a part, and a leading part, in some plot in which Williamson was engaged; but she could not reason the matter out. Now that the strain had gone, she suddenly felt limp.
With an effort she roused herself and threw the envelope into the fire. She could not betray her uncle, to whom she owed much; but he should not lead Dick into trouble, and Appleyard must not be used by her country's enemies. The situation, however, was embarrassing, and she felt that she could not ask Andrew's help. She longed to do so, because she instinctively turned to him when she was in a difficulty, and he had never failed her. But it was impossible now. She must wait and trust to finding some way of baffling the conspirators without staining the family honor.
At last she went to bed, and presently fell asleep; but she got up early in the morning and found Dick outside, watching Watson clean the car.
"Are you going to Edinburgh to-day?" she asked, as they turned back to the house.
"Yes," said Dick. "A bit of a change is bracing."