The Shadow of Tyburn Tree (17 page)

He knew from her tone that she meant it and that it would be futile to argue with her; yet his whole nature cried out in protest against tamely accepting the present situation. With a scowl upon his face he continued to pace to and fro, vainly seeking a way out of the snare in which they had been caught.

She watched him narrowly, praying that her ultimatum would prove a sufficient deterrent to prevent him from risking his life afresh, in a desperate attempt to relieve her of the hateful thing to which she was committed.

For a long time neither of them spoke. She could almost see his brain seething with revolt, as he thought up idea after idea only to reject each in turn as either useless or impractical; but she dared not break in upon his deliberations for fear of precipitating a decision on his part to adopt some desperate course. She was hoping, that given a little time, he would become calmer and accept the inevitable.

At last he spoke. ‘So be it, then. You shall give the Russian the assignation he demands; but not in your chamber. There are pens and paper in your secretaire. I pray you sit down here and write as I shall dictate.'

‘Roger, what have you in mind?' she asked nervously.

‘Oblige me by doing as I say,' he replied with a hard note in his voice; and when she had seated herself he went on. ‘No superscription is necessary. Simply write as follows:

‘
Privacy is essential to our meeting, and any interruption of it would prove most dangerous to you as well as to myself. For reasons which you will guess, it is beyond my power to ensure our remaining undisturbed together in my apartments. Therefore,
I pray you, be in the Orangery at midnight, and when all is quiet I will join you there
.'

In a bold, flowing hand Georgina wrote as she was bid. When she had done Roger said, with a thoughtful narrowing of his eyes. ‘You need say no more. On reading that he will assume that you have not dared to tell me of the demand he has made upon you, and can think of no means to guard with certainty against my coming to you myself sometime during the night. He will have the sense to see that in such a case bloody murder would result; so, albeit somewhat reluctantly, he will accept the rendezvous you offer him in the Orangery instead of coming to your room.'

‘How will that serve us, apart from the postponement of the meeting shortening by an hour the time that I must spend in his company?'

A sudden smile lit up Roger's face. ‘If he reacts as I have forecast, my pet, you will not be called on to spend a single moment in his company. 'Tis I, not you, who will keep this midnight rendezvous.'

She started up from her desk. ‘I have already vowed that if you kill him….'

‘Nay, I seek but an opportunity to converse with him secure from interruption.'

‘Why waste your breath? Neither prayers nor threats will move him from his purpose; and your intervention will serve only to irritate him further.'

‘That we shall see. If Jenny is still up I pray you send him the note by her.'

‘Georgina hesitated. ‘I—I can scarce believe that you intend no more than to talk with the Russian. I'll not send this note unless you pledge me your honour that you meditate no attempt upon his life.'

‘I give you my word that at this interview I will not seek to draw him into a fight, or by any other means shed one drop of his pestiferous blood. Is that enough?'

She smiled, rather wanly. ‘I know the clever brain that lies behind those seemingly innocent blue eyes of yours too well not to suspect that it has fomulated some audacious scheme. Yet I must take your word, lest I drive you to some more desperate measure. When may I hope to learn the outcome of the meeting?'

‘Persuading him to see reason may take some time, and I should be loath to rouse you from your sleep.'

She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘How can you think I'd find it possible to sleep, until I know what to expect?'

‘Then I will look in upon you on my way to bed. But be not anxious for me if the hour grows late before my coming.'

‘No matter the hour, I'll thank God on my knees if it be you who comes at all. I'll not believe that I've escaped him till I see you.'

Roger took her hand. ‘Be not so despondent, sweet; but send the note, and put your trust in me.'

‘I will. I beg you, though, to have a care for your dear self. He is a monstrous tricky beast and may seek to do you some injury if you detain him overlong.'

‘I'll keep good watch against that,' he promised. Then, after a single kiss, he left her.

She had only just given the note to Jenny when her father came in. As he stopped to kiss her cheek his lean face broke into a smile, and he said:

‘ 'Tis good to learn that you are already sufficiently recovered to receive visitors, m'dear; as I had felt that in any case this evening 'twould be as well for us to have a talk.' Then he made himself comfortable in an armchair opposite her.

Father and daughter were so close in heart and mind that he was fully aware how matters had lain between her and her late husband, so she felt no restraint in talking to him about her marriage, and made no secret of the fact that she was thoroughly glad to be rid of Sir Humphrey.

The Colonel added his assurances to those Roger had already given her, that the inquest would be no more than a formality; then they dropped the subject and talked for a while of interesting places that they might visit when next they went abroad together.

His easy manner and charming humour did much to soothe her nerves and take her mind off her anxieties. He had not been with her for ten minutes before she mentally blessed his coming, and it was not until nearly two hours later, when he stood up to go, that she realised how the time had flown.

Just as he was about to kiss her good-night he paused, and said with unwonted gravity. ‘Georgina. If there is anything else about this morning's events which you think I ought to know, now is your opportunity to tell me of it.'

She looked him straight in the eyes and shook her head. ‘No, papa. I have nought to add to what I have already said.'

He took a pinch of snuff and nodded. ‘You are old enough now to use your own judgment, m'dear. But no one knows better than myself the impulsiveness of your nature, and the sort of trouble into which it may lead you. I have every confidence in Roger's level-headedness and you have no doubt had the benefit of his guidance. Do nothing contrary to that, I
beg, and say as little as possible tomorrow. Good-night, my love, and may God have you in his keeping.'

As he left her she wondered just how much he suspected. He knew, of course, that Roger was her lover, since she had never sought to conceal such matters from him; but the way he had looked at her suggested that he believed her to be concealing something concerning her husband's death. She thought that he had been silently inviting her to tell him the truth, and that perhaps she ought to have done so; but she had instinctively acted on his own teaching—that one must bear one's own burdens in life, and that it was a mark of cowardice to seek to unload them on to the other people.

‘Man-made laws,' he had once told her. ‘Are but a rough guide to conduct, for the general protection of society. They should be disregarded when they are no longer in keeping with one's sense of right. Do what you will, provided that you can square it with your own conscience. But even if you fail in that you must endeavour to regain your own integrity by finding the courage to face the consequence of your act without whimpering about your lot to others, and involving them in your troubles.'

She had lived by that philosophy and felt that now was no time to go back upon it. If her father suspected anything it was because he believed that Roger had been with her. Had he had it in his power to help her, that would have been different. It was legitimate to ask a friend for any concrete aid that he could render. That was the essence of friendship and a high compliment to the friend concerned; but it was not right to confess one's sins merely for the squalid luxury of weeping on a friend's shoulder.

Convinced that she had acted rightly Georgina sought her bed. It was now just on eleven o'clock, the hour that Vorontzoff had intended to come to her; but she felt fairly certain now that Roger had been right in asserting that the Russian would prefer to accept a later assignation rather than risk being suprised in her room.

She took her time undressing and doing her hair so that it was midnight before she doused the candles on her dressing-table and got into bed.

With a little shudder she thought of all that had happened since she had lain there, so secure and happy, snugly curled in Roger's arms. She wondered if he and the Russian had yet met in the Orangery and what would be the outcome of the meeting. She had no great hopes for it as regards herself; as she could not believe that Vorontzoff would pay the least regard to any appeal Roger might make to his better nature; neither
could she imagine any way in which Roger could strike a bargain with the Russian, or coerce him, short of using force.

Vorontzoff, she felt certain, would mearly laugh at him and within a few moments openly declare his intention of coming up to her. That would be the crucial point upon which everything hung. Would Roger stand aside and let him? Would his promise to her weigh sufficiently with him to restrain him from some act of violence? Her life as well as his would depend upon it, and, ruthless as he might be once he let himself go, she had never known him lose his head in a crisis.

Among other things her father had taught her was, that one can pray every bit as effectually either standing up or lying down as one can when kneeling; and also that prayer is far more potent when offered up for another than for oneself. So she began to pray; silently, fervently, not that she should be spared the ordeal that she now dreaded so terribly, but that Roger be given sagacity, restraint and wisdom.

After a time her prayers gave place to a conscious effort to co-ordinate the power of her will with his. She did not seek to dominate him, but to strengthen all his best qualities by letting her own flow out of her towards him. Suddenly it came to her as clearly as a light in the darkness that they were
en rapport,
and she knew without a shadow of doubt that Roger was laughing.

It was so. Despite the grimness of the task upon which he was engaged, Roger found something irresistibly comic in the sight of the Russian Ambassador's limp body spreadeagled in a wheelbarrow. Probably it was the absurd, puppet-like way in which his enemy's legs and arms dangled helplessly over the sides of the barrow, and waggled at its every movement; but he could not help chuckling to himself as he wheeled his unconscious human load along a shadowy path through the shrubberies of the moonlit garden.

The Orangery had also been lit only by the moon, and ten minutes earlier Vorontzoff had swaggered into it exuding his usual self-complaisance. He had been annoyed by the postponing of his anticipated triumph, even for an hour; although conceding that there appeared to be an adequate reason, for the alteration of the rendezvous. But he was in no mood to let Georgina get away with a brief encounter among the ill-lit semi-tropical greenery. He was an epicure in women and wanted to gaze his fill at her, in comfort and at his leisure; so he had determined to insist that, since in her own room they might be liable to interruption, she should accompany him to his.

Instead, he had been standing there awaiting her coming for
barely a minute when Roger stepped softly from behind a banana-palm, and slugged him heavily on the back of the head with a small bag containing four pounds of wet sand.

It was over two hours since Roger had left Georgina, so he had had ample time to make his preparations; and, so far, his plan had gone with the smoothness of clockwork. As the sandbag hit Vorontzoff he had given a single grunt, his knees collapsed and he slumped unconscious on to the mosaic pavement. Picking him up, Roger carried him outside to the wheelbarrow which he had placed there for the purpose. In it there was already a small portmanteau containing various things that he might require. Bracing his muscles he had lifted the shafts and set off cheerfully down a garden path that led away from the back of the house.

On emerging from the shrubberies he followed the east side of the walled fruit garden, then, with no small effort, pulled the barrow over a steeply curved Chinese bridge that spanned a small stream. On its far side the garden ended, but the path continued, winding its way through semi-cultivated woodlands that had been planted with many thousands of bulbs and clumps of rhododendrons. A quarter of a mile farther on the tops of a group of tall Scotch pines, rising high above the other trees, stood out clearly against the night sky. Their prominence was due to the fact that they had been planted on a great artificial mound several hundred yards in circumference. In its interior, under many feet of earth, lay a large, low, circular chamber, to which access could be gained by a short passage, ending at a stout wooden door set in one side of the mound.

Nearly all large country houses of the period had in their, grounds similar man-made wooded knolls with a subterranean chamber underneath. Many of them were of great antiquity, as they were an ingenious Roman device for ensuring a supply of ice right through the summer. When the lakes froze in winter hundreds of big blocks of ice were cut from them and stored, after which the change of temperature above ground affected them hardly at all, as even in the height of summer, the shade of the trees kept cool the thick layer of earth beneath which they were stacked.

Having visited the mound during one of his walks with Georgina a few days before, Roger knew that the door of the chamber was not kept locked. Halting the wheelbarrow at the bottom of the slope he pulled the Russian across his shoulders, carried him to the entrance, opened the door, from which there issued a blast of cold air, and pushed him inside. He then returned for the portmanteau, rejoined his victim and, producing a dark lantern, lit it from his tinder-box.