Nobodys Man | Page 5

said. "Well, Andrew, I did my best according
to my lights, and I failed. Will you shake hands?"
He shook his head.
"I cannot, Stella. Let us agree to part here. We know all there is to be
known of one another, and we shall be able to say good-by without
regret."
She drifted slowly away from him. He watched her figure pass in and
out among the trees. She was unashamed, perhaps relieved,--probably,
he reflected, as he watched her enter the house, already making her
plans for a more successful future. He turned away and looked
downwards. The darkness seemed, if possible, to have become a little
more intense, the moaning of the sea more insistent. Little showers of
white spray enlaced the sombre rocks. The owl came back from his
mysterious journey, hovered for a moment over the cliff and entered his
secret home. Behind him, the lights in the house went out, one by one.
Suddenly he felt a grip upon his shoulder, a hot breath upon his cheek.
It was Stella, returned dishevelled, her lace scarf streaming behind, her
eyes lit with horror. "Andrew!" she cried. "It came over me--just as I
entered the house! What have you done with Anthony?"
CHAPTER II
Tallente's first impressions of Jane Partington were that an exceedingly
attractive but somewhat imperious young woman had surprised him in
a most undignified position. She had come cantering down the drive on
a horse which, by comparison with the Exmoor ponies which every one
rode in those parts, had seemed gigantic, and, finding a difficulty in

making her presence known, had motioned to him with her whip. He
climbed down from the steps where he had been busy fastening up
some roses, removed a nail from his mouth and came towards her.
"How is it that I can make no one hear?" she asked. "Do you know if
Mrs. Tallente is at home?"
Tallente was in no hurry to reply. He was busy taking in a variety of
pleasant impressions. Notwithstanding the severely cut riding habit and
the hard little hat, he decided that he had never looked into a more
attractively feminine face. For some occult reason, unconnected, he
was sure, with the use of any skin food or face cream, this young
woman who had the reputation of living out of doors, winter and
summer, had a complexion which, notwithstanding its faint shade of
tan, would have passed muster for delicacy and clearness in any
Mayfair drawing-room. Her eyes were soft and brown, her hair a darker
shade of the same colour. Her mouth, for all its firmness, was soft and
pleasantly curved. Her tone, though a trifle imperative, was kindly,
gracious and full of musical quality. Her figure was moderately slim,
but indistinguishable at that moment under her long coat. She
possessed a curious air of physical well-being, the well-being of a
woman who has found and is enjoying what she seeks in life.
"Won't you tell me why I can make no one hear?" she repeated, still
good-naturedly but frowning slightly at his silence.
"Mrs. Tallente is in London," he announced. "She has taken most of the
establishment with her."
The visitor fumbled in her side pocket and produced a diminutive ivory
case. She withdrew a card and handed it to Tallente, with a glance at
his gloved hands.
"Will you give this to the butler?" she begged. "Tell him to tell his
mistress that I was sorry not to find her at home."
"The butler," Tallente explained, "has gone for the milk. He shall have
the card immediately on his return."

She looked at him for a moment and then smiled.
"Do forgive me," she said. "I believe you are Mr. Tallente?"
He drew off his gloves and shook hands.
"How did you guess that?" he asked.
"From the illustrated papers, of course," she answered. "I have come to
the conclusion that you must be a very vain man, I have seen so many
pictures of you lately."
"A matter of snapshots," he replied, "for which, as a rule, the victim is
not responsible. You should abjure such a journalistic vice as picture
papers."
"Why?" she laughed. "They lead to such pleasant surprises. I had been
led to believe, for instance, by studying the Daily Mirror, that you were
quite an elderly person with a squint."
"I am becoming self-conscious," he confessed. "Won't you come in?
There is a boy somewhere about the premises who can look after your
horse, and I shall be able to give you some tea as soon as Robert gets
back with the milk."
He cooeed to the boy, who came up from one of the lower shelves of
garden, and she followed him into the hall. He looked around him for a
moment in