Mr. Standfast | Page 8

was in mortal fear lest I should lose my
temper and spoil everything. I stood up with my back against the
mantelpiece for as long as a man may smoke a cigarette, and I let him
yarn to me, while I looked steadily at his face. By this time I was very
clear that Wake was not the fellow to give me my instructions. He
wasn't playing a game. He was a perfectly honest crank, but not a
fanatic, for he wasn't sure of himself. He had somehow lost his
self-respect and was trying to argue himself back into it. He had
considerable brains, for the reasons he gave for differing from most of
his countrymen were good so far as they went. I shouldn't have cared to
take him on in public argument. If you had told me about such a fellow
a week before I should have been sick at the thought of him. But now I
didn't dislike him. I was bored by him and I was also tremendously
sorry for him. You could see he was as restless as a hen.

When we went back to the hall he announced that he must get on the
road, and commandeered Miss Lamington to help him find his bicycle.
It appeared he was staying at an inn a dozen miles off for a couple of
days' fishing, and the news somehow made me like him better.
Presently the ladies of the house departed to bed for their beauty sleep
and I was left to my own devices.
For some time I sat smoking in the hall wondering when the messenger
would arrive. It was getting late and there seemed to be no preparation
in the house to receive anybody. The butler came in with a tray of
drinks and I asked him if he expected another guest that night.
'I 'adn't 'eard of it, sir,' was his answer. 'There 'asn't been a telegram that
I know of, and I 'ave received no instructions.'
I lit my pipe and sat for twenty minutes reading a weekly paper. Then I
got up and looked at the family portraits. The moon coming through the
lattice invited me out-of-doors as a cure for my anxiety. It was after
eleven o'clock, and I was still without any knowledge of my next step.
It is a maddening business to be screwed up for an unpleasant job and
to have the wheels of the confounded thing tarry.
Outside the house beyond a flagged terrace the lawn fell away, white in
the moonshine, to the edge of the stream, which here had expanded into
a miniature lake. By the water's edge was a little formal garden with
grey stone parapets which now gleamed like dusky marble. Great wafts
of scent rose from it, for the lilacs were scarcely over and the may was
in full blossom. Out from the shade of it came suddenly a voice like a
nightingale.
It was singing the old song 'Cherry Ripe', a common enough thing
which I had chiefly known from barrel-organs. But heard in the scented
moonlight it seemed to hold all the lingering magic of an elder England
and of this hallowed countryside. I stepped inside the garden bounds
and saw the head of the girl Mary.
She was conscious of my presence, for she turned towards me.

'I was coming to look for you,' she said, 'now that the house is quiet. I
have something to say to you, General Hannay.'
She knew my name and must be somehow in the business. The thought
entranced me.
'Thank God I can speak to you freely,' I cried. 'Who and what are
you--living in that house in that kind of company?'
'My good aunts!' She laughed softly. 'They talk a great deal about their
souls, but they really mean their nerves. Why, they are what you call
my camouflage, and a very good one too.'
'And that cadaverous young prig?'
'Poor Launcelot! Yes--camouflage too--perhaps something a little more.
You must not judge him too harshly.'
'But... but--' I did not know how to put it, and stammered in my
eagerness. 'How can I tell that you are the right person for me to speak
to? You see I am under orders, and I have got none about you.'
'I will give You Proof,' she said. 'Three days ago Sir Walter Bullivant
and Mr Macgillivray told you to come here tonight and to wait here for
further instructions. You met them in the little smoking-room at the
back of the Rota Club. You were bidden take the name of Cornelius
Brand, and turn yourself from a successful general into a pacifist South
African engineer. Is that correct?'
'Perfectly.'
'You have been restless all evening looking for the messenger to give
you these