Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell - Страница 28
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did Doctor Syn break silence:
“I warrant, Tony, that when I ask ed you to accompany me upon with the
first stage of my Odyssey, you made up your mind that it would mean a
ride to Oxford.”
“I expect you to speak of Oxford, certainly,” answered Tony; “and now
you mention it, I can speak out the easier. I propose that I shall ride
there in your stead. There are certain things to be done there. That
villain’s pack-horse is still in my father’s stables, and should be
returned to Iffley. You have many personal possessions left at Queen’s,
and there is the question of money owing at White Friars. All these
things I can settle for you, if you will give me authority.”
“To save me pain, you think,” he answered. “But there is no more
misery in the whole world that can affect me now. Reading her letter, I
received my deat h-blow, and a dead man cannot suffer. No, I must go to
Oxford personally, for I have many odd preparations to be made there
against my ultimate sea-faring.”
“You are intending to leave England?” asked Tony sadly. “I feared you
would say so.”
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“But not yet, Tony. No, not yet. Eventually, of course. But there must
be no haste. Haste flusters a man, and I have sworn that through it all
I shall remain most calm, and most deliberate. That devil, with his
damned guitar and Spanish songs, expects me, as a man of spirit, to
sweep to my revenge. I shall not sweep to please him, but creep to it.
Yes, inch by inch, along the million miles, if needs be. Slowly, calmly
and deliberately, but always very surely. I’ll play the cat to his
pathetic mouse. And when at last he fawns at me to kill, I’ll whisper,
‘No. Not yet. It is not quite time yet.’”
Moved by his friend’s emotion, and resenting all that caused it, Tony
leant forward, caught his companion’s bridle and forced him to the halt.
“Christopher,” he said, “if you really wish revenge, leave this
affair to m e, and you shall have it fully. Suppose I follow them. Kill
him, and bring her back to you repentant. Would you forgive her then?”
And at this, Syn laughed, but not kindly. Gently he released his
friend’s hand from his bridle, and slowly pressed his horse into a walk,
saying through his laughter:
“Oh, my good Tony, you almost persuade me to think that there is a
little niceness in this dreadful world. But no, Tony, I have loved as
maybe only you could love. But I have lost. And now I chase another
mistress, and I find her most alluring. Her name is Revenge.”
When they reached the old attorney’s house, Tony tactfully insisted
that he would remain outside and hold the horses.
“I shall not keep you long, I promise you,” said Syn. “I have my
business at my fingertips, which will please Uncle Solomon, since I
interrupt his working hours.”
“You must not hurry on my account,” replied Tony. “Besides your
business, you will have family affairs to discuss.”
“There will be no discussion,” returned Syn. “I can tell him the
bare facts in a sentence, and then make my business request. A few
minutes will suffice for all I have to say.”
He was as good as his word, for in a few minutes the front door was
opened again, not by the man -servant, but by Solomon Syn himself. He
saluted Tony cordially, and assisted his nephew in arranging two bulky
banker’s bags across the saddle.
“Aye, Christopher,” said the old man, “they will ride there safe
enough, for the webbing is strong, and you know how to tie a knot. If
you meet a highwayman, avoid him.”
“We should be two to one, Uncle,” laughed the Doctor. “We are both
armed, and can take care of ourselves, I think.”
As they rode away he tapped the bags before him and explained:
“Guineas, Tony. I knew my uncle kept a store of them locked in his
vault. On our return to Dymchurch, old Wraight the builder is to meet
me at the Vicarage. I wish to settle his account today. It is the
first step of my Odyssey. Each hour I must do something to advance it.
I wonder, now, how many years it will take, and how many land and sea
miles I shall cover?”
“I still hope,” said Tony sadly, “that God will show you there is
something better than revenge.”
But the Doctor shook his head and answered, “There can be nothing
better in the world.”
When they had handed their horses to the Court-House grooms, Tony
insisted upon carrying the guinea-bags to the Vicarage, where they found
the good old builder awaiting their pleasure.
“There was not this need of hasty payment, sir, as far as I’m
concerned,” said the old man respectfully.
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“I know, but I wish to get it settled,” replied Syn. “I see that you
have the detailed list of items with you. Give it to Mr. Cobtree to
look over, while you and I take a final look at the improvements.”
So Tony sat down to the library table and checked the inventory,
while Wraight followed the Vicar from room to room, and out into the
garden, the builder talking proudly of the various results of his work,
and the Doctor vouchsafing not a word of comment. Neither praise nor
censure did he speak, till his silence worried the old man. Unable to
stand it longer, he asked:
“I hope, sir, that my work meets with your approval?”
“Of course. Of course,” replied Syn, but in a tone that showed the
builder that his mind was elsewhere. “The work has been faithfully
carried out, according to my instructions, and whatever mistake has been
made, it is mine, and not yours, and I will take the blame.”
“Mistake? The blame?” repeated Wraight. “I beg, sir, that you will
point out any mistake, that I can rectify it.”
The Doctor changed the subject suddenly, and pointing to a ladder
that leaned against the new wing in which Imogene had planned her
nurseries, he asked what it was there for. “I see it gives access to
the roof. Is it not finished?”
Wraight explained that he had been up there before the Doctor’s
arrival to inspect the new red tiles.
“Did you find them satisfactory?” asked the Doctor.
“I did, sir. Very pleased with them I was. I wager they’ll keep out
wind and water for a century.”
“I wonder now,” said Syn, with a smile.
Bridled that his work should be thus criticized, the old man was
anger, but before he could speak, Syn left him abruptly, and walked
quickly to a tool shed from which he brought a heavy pick-ax. Then he
climbed the ladder and stood upon the gently sloping tiles. Suddenly he
laughed, and, to Wraight’s astonishment and indignation, he swung the
pick above his head and brought the flat blade of it down with a
sweeping blow. Using the implement as a lever, he forced the tiles from
their pegs and sent them crashing down into the garden below. In a
minute he had torn a hole in the roof through which he cast the pick,
and with such force that it tore its way with falling plaster into the
room below which was to have been the nursery. Dusting his clothes
deliberately, he climbed down the ladder and told the amazed Wraight to
follow him into the house.
Tony, who had heaped up the requisite pile of guineas on the table,
crossed to the window to find out the cause of the noise, but seeing the
grim expression upon the two men’s faces as they entered, he kept
silence and waited for an explanation.
“I have thoroughly satisfied myself, Tony,” said the Doctor, “that
Mr. Wraight has carried out the work I gave him faithfully. I see you
have the guineas waiting for him, so if you will count it, Mr. Wraight,
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