The Broken Thread. William Le Queux
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William Le Queux
The Broken Thread
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4064066156862
Table of Contents
Chapter Two.
Presents a Curious Problem.
On entering old Mr. Mutimer’s house a telegram addressed to Raife lay upon the hall-table. Tearing it open, he read the brief summons. “Come at once, urgent.—Mother.”
The words were startling in their brevity. Turning to his friend, he exclaimed in alarmed accents: “Something serious has happened at home, old man. See what the mater has wired.” He handed the telegram to Teddy.
Teddy read it and gave it back. “I’m awfully sorry, Raife. There’s a good train in about an hour from now. While you are waiting, you might ring up home and find out what’s the matter.”
“A good idea,” said Raife. And at once he entered the study, and, taking up the telephone receiver, got a trunk call.
In less than five minutes he was speaking with Edgson, the old butler at Aldborough Park, his father’s fine place near Tunbridge Wells.
“Is Lady Remington there?” asked Raife, eagerly. “Tell her I want to speak to her.”
“She’s—oh, it’s you, Master Raife, sir! She’s—I’m sorry, sir, her ladyship’s not well, sir.”
“Not well? What’s the matter?” asked the young fellow, speaking eagerly into the mouthpiece.
“Oh, sir, I—I—I can’t tell you over the ’phone,” replied the old servant. “Her ladyship has forbidden us to say anything at all.”
“But, Edgson, surely I may know!” cried the young man, frantically.
“We thought you were on your way home, sir,” the butler replied. “Can’t you come, Master Raife?”
“Yes, of course, I’m leaving now—at once. But I’m anxious to know what has happened.”
“Come home, sir, and her ladyship will tell you.”
“Go at once and say that I am at the ’phone,” Raife ordered, angrily.
“I’m very sorry, sir, but I can’t,” was the response. “I have very strict orders from her ladyship, but I’m sorry to have to disobey you, sir.”
“Can’t you tell me anything? Can’t you give me an inkling of what’s the matter?” urged Raife.
“I’m very sorry, sir, I can’t,” replied the old man, quietly, but very firmly.
Raife knew Edgson of old. With him the word of either master or mistress was law. Edgson had been in his father’s service ever since his earliest recollection, and though fond of a glass of good port, as his ruddy nose betrayed, he was the most trusted servant of all the staff.
He would give no explanation of what had occurred, therefore, Raife, furiously angry with the old man, “rang off.”
The train journey from Southport seemed interminable. His mind was in a whirl. The brief words of the telegram, “Come home at once, urgent,” kept ringing in his ears, above the roar of the carriage wheels. He had the sensations of a man in a nightmare. What could have happened, and to whom? His mother had sent the “wire,” and therefore it most probably concerned his father.
And ever and again, at the back of his mind, racked with this horrible suspense and uncertainty, was the image of the mysterious girl whose acquaintance he had made on the Southport front. He could hear the low, sweet tones of her musical voice, he could see the grace of her dainty figure. Should he ever meet her again? Would she ever be to him more than a fascinating acquaintance?
When