his elbows on the table.
"He'll want a lot of health to carry him through this, won't he?" he
asked.
He drank his glass of port like water, and Mr. Taynton instantly filled
it up again for him.
"Ah, I remember you don't like port," he said. "What else can I
offer you?"
"Oh, this will do very well," said Morris. "I am so thirsty."
"You have dined?" asked his host quietly.
"No; I don't think I did. I wasn't hungry."
The Cromwellian clock chimed a remnant half hour.
"Half-past," said Morris, filling his glass again. "You expect him then,
don't you?"
"Mills is not always very punctual," said Mr. Taynton.
For the next quarter of an hour the two sat with hardly the interchange
of a word. From outside came the swift steady hiss of the rain on to
the shrubs in the garden, and again the clock chimed. Morris who at
first had sat very quiet had begun to fidget and stir in his chair;
occasionally when he happened to notice it, he drank off the port with
which Mr. Taynton hospitably kept his glass supplied. Sometimes he
relit a cigarette only to let it go out again. But when the clock
struck he got up.
"I wonder what has happened," he said. "Can he have missed his train?
What time ought he to have got in?"
"He was to have got to Falmer," said Mr. Taynton with a little
emphasis on the last word, "at a quarter to seven. He spoke of walking
from there."
Morris looked at him with a furtive sidelong glance.
"Why, I—I might have met him there," he said. "I went up there again
after I left you to tell Sir Richard you would call to-morrow."
"You saw nothing of him?" asked the lawyer.
"No, of course not. Otherwise—There was scarcely a soul on the road; the
storm was coming up. But he would go by the downs, would he not?"
"The path over the downs doesn't branch off for a quarter of a mile below
Falmer station," said Mr. Taynton.
The minutes ticked on till ten. Then Morris went to the door.
"I shall go round to his rooms to see if he is there," he said.
"There is no need," said his host, "I will telephone."
The instrument hung in a corner of the room, and with very little delay,
Mills's servant was rung up. His master had not yet returned, but he had
said that he should very likely be late.
"And he made an appointment with you for half-past nine?" asked
Morris again.
"Yes. I cannot think what has happened to detain him."
Morris went quickly to the door again.
"I believe it is all a trick," he said, "and you don't want me to meet
him. I believe he is in his rooms the whole time. I shall go and see."
Before Mr. Taynton could stop him he had opened the front-door and banged
it behind him, and was off hatless and coatless through the pouring
perpendicular rain.
Mr. Taynton ran to the door, as if to stop him, but Morris was already
halfway down the street, and he went upstairs to the drawing-room. Morris
was altogether unlike himself; this discovery of Mills's treachery seemed
to have changed his nature. Violent and quick he always was, but to-night
he was suspicious, he seemed to distrust Mr. Taynton himself. And, a
thing which his host had never known him do before, he had drunk in that
half hour when they sat waiting, close on a bottle of port.
The evening paper lay ready cut for him in its accustomed place, but for
some five minutes Mr. Taynton did not appear to notice it, though evening
papers, on the money-market page, might contain news so frightfully
momentous to him. But something, this strangeness in Morris, no doubt,
and his general anxiety and suspense as to how this dreadful knot could
unravel itself, preoccupied him now, and even when he did take up the
paper and turn to the reports of Stock Exchange dealings, he was
conscious of no more than a sort of subaqueous thrill of satisfaction.
For Boston Copper had gone up nearly a point since the closing price of
last night.
It was not many minutes, however before Morris returned with matted and
streaming hair and drenched clothes.
"He has not come back," he said.
"He'll want a lot of health to carry him through this, won't he?" he
asked.
He drank his glass of port like water, and Mr. Taynton instantly filled
it up again for him.
"Ah, I remember you don't like port," he said. "What else can I
offer you?"
"Oh, this will do very well," said Morris. "I am so thirsty."
"You have dined?" asked his host quietly.
"No; I don't think I did. I wasn't hungry."
The Cromwellian clock chimed a remnant half hour.
"Half-past," said Morris, filling his glass again. "You expect him then,
don't you?"
"Mills is not always very punctual," said Mr. Taynton.
For the next quarter of an hour the two sat with hardly the interchange
of a word. From outside came the swift steady hiss of the rain on to
the shrubs in the garden, and again the clock chimed. Morris who at
first had sat very quiet had begun to fidget and stir in his chair;
occasionally when he happened to notice it, he drank off the port with
which Mr. Taynton hospitably kept his glass supplied. Sometimes he
relit a cigarette only to let it go out again. But when the clock
struck he got up.
"I wonder what has happened," he said. "Can he have missed his train?
What time ought he to have got in?"
"He was to have got to Falmer," said Mr. Taynton with a little
emphasis on the last word, "at a quarter to seven. He spoke of walking
from there."
Morris looked at him with a furtive sidelong glance.
"Why, I—I might have met him there," he said. "I went up there again
after I left you to tell Sir Richard you would call to-morrow."
"You saw nothing of him?" asked the lawyer.
"No, of course not. Otherwise—There was scarcely a soul on the road; the
storm was coming up. But he would go by the downs, would he not?"
"The path over the downs doesn't branch off for a quarter of a mile below
Falmer station," said Mr. Taynton.
The minutes ticked on till ten. Then Morris went to the door.
"I shall go round to his rooms to see if he is there," he said.
"There is no need," said his host, "I will telephone."
The instrument hung in a corner of the room, and with very little delay,
Mills's servant was rung up. His master had not yet returned, but he had
said that he should very likely be late.
"And he made an appointment with you for half-past nine?" asked
Morris again.
"Yes. I cannot think what has happened to detain him."
Morris went quickly to the door again.
"I believe it is all a trick," he said, "and you don't want me to meet
him. I believe he is in his rooms the whole time. I shall go and see."
Before Mr. Taynton could stop him he had opened the front-door and banged
it behind him, and was off hatless and coatless through the pouring
perpendicular rain.
Mr. Taynton ran to the door, as if to stop him, but Morris was already
halfway down the street, and he went upstairs to the drawing-room. Morris
was altogether unlike himself; this discovery of Mills's treachery seemed
to have changed his nature. Violent and quick he always was, but to-night
he was suspicious, he seemed to distrust Mr. Taynton himself. And, a
thing which his host had never known him do before, he had drunk in that
half hour when they sat waiting, close on a bottle of port.
The evening paper lay ready cut for him in its accustomed place, but for
some five minutes Mr. Taynton did not appear to notice it, though evening
papers, on the money-market page, might contain news so frightfully
momentous to him. But something, this strangeness in Morris, no doubt,
and his general anxiety and suspense as to how this dreadful knot could
unravel itself, preoccupied him now, and even when he did take up the
paper and turn to the reports of Stock Exchange dealings, he was
conscious of no more than a sort of subaqueous thrill of satisfaction.
For Boston Copper had gone up nearly a point since the closing price of
last night.
It was not many minutes, however before Morris returned with matted and
streaming hair and drenched clothes.
"He has not come back," he said.
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