Read Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) Online
Authors: Travelers In Time
Captain
Brayton
nodded
his
head.
"Perhaps
I
should
say
that
I
did
know
him
well,"
he
returned.
"We were
at
the
same
school,
we
passed
through
Chatham
together,
but since
he
has
relinquished
actual
service
we
have
seen
very
little
of
one another."
Here
he
hesitated,
but
eventually
made
up
his
mind
to continue
in
a
guarded
fashion.
"Also,
I
am
bound
to
admit
that
there has
been
cause
for
disagreement.
We
quarrelled."
Mr.
Twiss
was
disappointed.
"Then
you
can
tell
me
nothing
of
him recently?"
he
asked,
and
Captain
Brayton
shrugged
his
shoulders.
"Nothing
but
what
all
the
little
world
of
his
acquaintances
already knows.
He
has
grown
solitary,
forbidding
in
his
manner,
and,
what
is most
noticeable,
sly—extraordinarily
sly.
While
he
is
speaking
with you,
he
will
smile
at
some
secret
thought
of
his;
the
affairs
of
the world
have
lost
their
interest
for
him;
he
hardly
listens
and
seldom speaks.
He
is
concerned
with
some
private
matter,
and
he
hides
it
cunningly.
That
is
the
character,
at
all
events,
which
his
friends
give
of him."
They
had
now
reached
the
corner
of
St.
James's
Street,
and
as
they turned
up
the
hill,
Mr.
Twiss
took
up
the
tale.
"I
am
not
surprised
at
what
you
tell
me.
It
is
a
great
pity,
for
we both
remember
him
ambitious
and
a
good
soldier.
I
am
inclined
to blame
the
house
in
the
country
for
the
change
in
him."
Captain
Brayton,
however,
did
not
agree.
"It
goes
deeper
than
that,"
he
said.
"Men
who
live
alone
in
the country
may
show
furtive
ways
in
towns,
no
doubt.
But
why
does
he live
alone
in
the
country?
No,
that
will
not
do";
and
at
the
top
of St.
James's
Street
the
two
men
parted.
Mr.
Twiss
walked
up
Bond
Street,
and
the
memory
of
that
house
in the
country
in
which
Archie
Cranfield
chose
to
bury
himself
kept
him company.
Mr.
Twiss
had
travelled
down
into
the
eastern
counties
to see
it
for
himself
one
Saturday
afternoon
when
Cranfield
was
away from
home,
and
a
walk
of
six
miles
from
the
station
had
taken
him
to its
door.
It
stood
upon
the
borders
of
Essex
and
Suffolk,
a
small
Eliza-
bethan
house
backed
upon
the
Stour,
a
place
of
black
beams
and
low ceilings
and
great
fireplaces.
It
had
been
buttressed
behind,
where
the ground
ran
down
to
the
river
bank,
and
hardly
a
window
was
on
a level
with
its
neighbour.
A
picturesque
place
enough,
but
Mr.
Twiss was
a
lover
of
towns
and
of
paved
footways
and
illuminated
streets. He
imagined
it
on
such
an
evening
as
this,
dark,
and
the
rain
dripping cheerlessly
from
the
trees.
He
imagined
its
inmate
crouching
over
the fire
with
his
sly
smile
upon
his
face,
and
of
a
sudden
the
picture
took on
a
sinister
look,
and
a
strong
sense
of
discomfort
made
Mr.
Twiss cast
an
uneasy
glance
behind
him.
He
had
in
his
pocket
a
letter
of instructions
from
Archie
Cranfield,
bidding
him
buy
the
house
outright
with
its
furniture,
since
it
had
now
all
come
into
the
market.
It
was
a
week
after
this
when
next
Captain
Brayton
came
to
Mr. Twiss's
office,
and,
their
business
done,
he
spoke
of
his
own
accord
of Archie
Cranfield.
"I
am
going
to
stay
with
him,"
he
said.
"He
wrote
to
me
on
the night
of
the
day
when
we
passed
him
in
Pall
Mall.
He
told
me
that he
would
make
up
a
small
bachelor
party.
I
am
very
glad,
for,
to
tell the
truth,
our
quarrel
was
a
sufficiently
serious
one,
and
here,
it
seems, is
the
end
to
it."
Mr.
Twiss
was
delighted,
and
shook
his
client
warmly
by
the
hand.
"You
shall
bring
me
news
of
Archie
Cranfield,"
he
said—"better news
than
I
have,"
he
added,
with
a
sudden
gravity
upon
his
face.
For in
making
the
arrangements
for
the
purchase
of
the
house,
he
had come
into
contact
with
various
neighbours
of
Archie
Cranfield,
and from
all
of
them
he
had
had
but
one
report.
Cranfield
had
a
bad
name in
those
parts.
There
were
no
particular
facts
given
to
account
for
his reputation.
It
was
all
elusive
and
vague,
an
impression
conveyed
by Archie
Cranfield
himself,
by
something
strange
and
sly
in
his
demeanour.
He
would
sit
chuckling
in
a
sort
of
triumph,
to
which
no one
had
the
clue,
or,
on
the
other
hand,
he
fell
into
deep
silences
like a
man
with
a
trouble
on
his
mind.
"Be
sure
you
come
to
see
me
when
you
return,"
said
Mr.
Twiss,
and Captain
Brayton
replied
heartily:
"Surely
I
will."
But
he
never
did. For
in
a
few
days
the
newspapers
were
busy
with
the
strange
enigma of
his
death.
The
first
hint
of
this
enigma
was
conveyed
to
Mr.
Twiss
late
one night
at
his
private
address.
It
came
in
the
shape
of
a
telegram
from