THE COMPLETE BULLDOG DRUMMOND SERIES (10 Novels in One Edition). H. C. McNeile / Sapper
taking in every detail of the sweet profile so near to him. Except for their first meeting at the Carlton, it was the only time he had ever had her completely to himself, and Hugh was determined to make the most of it. He felt as if he could go on driving for ever, just he and she alone. He had an overwhelming longing to put out his hand and touch a soft tendril of hair which was blowing loose just behind her ear; he had an overwhelming longing to take her in his arms, and ... It was then that the girl turned and looked at him. The car swerved dangerously....
"Let's stop," she said, with the suspicion of a smile. "Then you can tell me."
Hugh drew into the side of the road, and switched off the engine.
"You're not fair," he remarked, and if the girl saw his hand trembling a little as he opened the door, she gave no sign. Only her breath came a shade faster, but a mere man could hardly be expected to notice such a trifle as that....
He came and stood beside her, and his right arm lay along the seat just behind her shoulders.
"You're not fair," he repeated gravely. "I haven't swerved like that since I first started to drive."
"Tell me about this important thing," she said a little nervously.
He smiled, and no woman yet born could see Hugh Drummond smile without smiling too.
"You darling!" he whispered, under his breath—"you adorable darling!" His arm closed around her, and, almost before she realised it, she felt his lips on hers. For a moment she sat motionless, while the wonder of it surged over her, and the sky seemed more gloriously blue, and the woods a richer green. Then, with a little gasp, she pushed him away.
"You mustn't ... oh! you mustn't, Hugh," she whispered.
"And why not, little girl?" he said exultingly. "Don't you know I love you?"
"But look, there's a man over there, and he'll see."
Hugh glanced at the stolid labourer in question, and smiled.
"Go an absolute mucker over the cabbages, what! Plant carrots by mistake." His face was still very close to hers. "Well?"
"Well, what?" she murmured.
"It's your turn," he whispered. "I love you, Phyllis—just love you."
"But it's only two or three days since we met," she said feebly.
"And phwat the divil has that got to do with it, at all?" he demanded. "Would I be wanting longer to decide such an obvious fact? Tell me," he went on, and she felt his arm round her again forcing her to look at him—"tell me, don't you care ... a little?"
"What's the use?" She still struggled, but, even to her, it wasn't very convincing. "We've got other things to do.... We can't think of..."
And then this very determined young man settled matters in his usual straightforward fashion. She felt herself lifted bodily out of the car as if she had been a child: she found herself lying in his arms, with Hugh's eyes looking very tenderly into her own and a whimsical grin round his mouth.
"Cars pass here," he remarked, "with great regularity. I know you'd hate to be discovered in this position."
"Would I?" she whispered. "I wonder..."
She felt his heart pound madly against her; and with a sudden quick movement she put both her arms round his neck and kissed him on the mouth.
"Is that good enough?" she asked, very low: and just for a few moments, Time stood still.... Then, very gently, he put her back in the car.
"I suppose," he remarked resignedly, "that we had better descend to trivialities. We've had lots of fun and games since I last saw you a year or two ago."
"Idiot boy," she said happily. "It was yesterday morning."
"The interruption is considered trivial. Mere facts don't count when it's you and me." There was a further interlude of uncertain duration, followed rapidly by another because the first was so nice.
"To resume," continued Hugh. "I regret to state that they've got Potts."
The girl sat up quickly and stared at him.
"Got him? Oh, Hugh! how did they manage it?"
"I'm damned if I know," he answered grimly. "They found out that he was in my bungalow at Goring during the afternoon by sending round a man to see about the water. Somehow or other he must have doped the drink or the food, because after dinner we all fell asleep. I can just remember seeing Lakington's face outside in the garden, pressed against the window, and then everything went out. I don't remember anything more till I woke this morning with the most appalling head. Of course, Potts had gone."
"I heard the car drive up in the middle of the night," said the girl thoughtfully. "Do you think he's at The Elms now?"
"That is what I propose to find out to-night," answered Hugh. "We have staged a little comedy for Peterson's especial benefit, and we are hoping for the best.'"
"Oh, boy, do be careful!" She looked at him anxiously. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I'd feel it was all due to me, and I just couldn't bear it."
"Dear little girl," he whispered tenderly, "you're simply adorable when you look like that. But not even for you would I back out of this show now." His mouth set in a grim line. "It's gone altogether too far, and they've shown themselves to be so completely beyond the pale that it's got to be fought out. And when it has been," he caught both her hands in his ... "and we've won ... why, then girl o' mine, we'll get Peter Darrell to be best man."
Which was the cue for the commencement of the last and longest interlude, terminated only by the sudden and unwelcome appearance of a motor-'bus covered within and without by unromantic sightseers, and paper-bags containing bananas.
They drove slowly back to Guildford, and on the way he told her briefly of the murder of the American's secretary in Belfast, and his interview the preceding afternoon with the impostor at the Carlton.
"It's a tough proposition," he remarked quietly. "They're absolutely without scruple, and their power seems unlimited. I know they are after the Duchess of Lampshire's pearls: I found the beautiful Irma consuming tea with young Laidley yesterday—you know, the Duke's eldest son. But there's something more in the wind than that, Phyllis—something which, unless I'm a mug of the first water, is an infinitely larger proposition than that."
The car drew up at the station, and he strolled with her on to the platform. Trivialities were once more banished: vital questions concerning when it had first happened—by both; whether he was quite sure it would last for ever—by her; what she could possibly see in him—by him; and wasn't everything just too wonderful for words—mutual and carried nem. con.
Then the train came in, and he put her into a carriage. And two minutes later, with the touch of her lips warm on his, and her anxious little cry, "Take care, my darling!—take care!" still ringing in his ears, he got into his car and drove off to an hotel to get an early dinner. Love for the time was over; the next round of the other game was due. And it struck Drummond that it was going to be a round where a mistake would not be advisable.
IV
At a quarter to ten he backed his car into the shadow of some trees not far from the gate of The Elms. The sky was overcast, which suited his purpose, and through the gloom of the bushes he dodged rapidly towards the house. Save for a light in the sitting-room and one in a bedroom upstairs, the front of the house was in darkness, and, treading noiselessly on the turf, he explored all round it. From a downstairs room on one side came the hoarse sound of men's voices, and he placed that as the smoking-room of the gang of ex-convicts and blackguards who formed Peterson's staff. There was one bedroom light at the back of the house, and thrown on the blind he could see the shadow of a man. As he watched, the man got up and moved away, only to return in a moment or two and take up his old position.
"It's one of those two bedrooms," he muttered to himself, "if he's here at all."