The Great Impersonation, E. Phillips Oppenheim [finding audrey TXT] 📗

me hear what you have to say for yourself, sir? So far as I can see, you’ve been quite sweet to your wife, and she adores you. If you want to have an affair with the Princess, don’t begin it here. You’ll have your wife ill again if you make her jealous.”

“My dear Caroline, there will be no affair between Stephanie and me. Of that you may rest assured.”

“You mean to say that this is altogether on her side, then?” Caroline persisted.

“You exaggerate her demeanour,” he replied, “but even if what you suggest were true⁠—”

“Oh, I don’t want a lot of protestations!” she interrupted. “I am not saying that you encourage her much, because I don’t believe you do. All I want to point out is that, having really brought your wife back almost to health, you must be extraordinarily and wonderfully careful. If you want to talk nonsense with Stephanie, do it in Belgrave Square.”

Dominey was watching the gyrations of a falling pheasant. His left hand was stretched out towards the cartridge bag which Caroline was holding. He clasped her fingers for a moment before he helped himself.

“You are rather a dear,” he said. “I would not do anything to hurt Rosamund for the world.”

“If you can’t get rid of your old tricks altogether and must flirt,” she remarked, “well, I’m always somewhere about. Rosamund wouldn’t mind me, because there are a few grey hairs in my sandy ones.⁠—And here comes your man across the park⁠—looks as though he had a message for you. So long as nothing has happened to your cook, I feel that I could face ill tidings with composure.”

Dominey found himself watching with fixed eyes the approach of his rather sad-faced manservant through the snow. Parkins was not dressed for such an enterprise, nor did he seem in any way to relish it. His was the stern march of duty, and, curiously enough, Dominey felt from the moment he caught sight of him that he was in some respects a messenger of Fate. Yet the message which he delivered, when at last he reached his master’s side, was in no way alarming.

“A person of the name of Miller has arrived here, sir,” he announced, “from Norwich. He is, I understand, a foreigner of some sort, who has recently landed in this country. I found it a little difficult to understand him, but her Highness’s maid conversed with him in German, and I understand that he either is or brings you a message from a certain Doctor Schmidt, with whom you were acquainted in Africa.”

The warning whistle blew at that moment, and Dominey swung round and stood at attention. His behaviour was perfectly normal. He let a hen pheasant pass over his head, and brought down a cock from very nearly the limit distance. He reloaded before he turned to Parkins.

“Is this person in a hurry?” he said.

“By no means, sir,” the man replied. “I told him that you would not be back until three or four o’clock, and he is quite content to wait.”

Dominey nodded.

“Look after him yourself then, Parkins,” he directed. “We shall not be shooting late today. Very likely I will send Mr. Seaman back to talk to him.”

The man raised his hat respectfully and turned back towards the house. Caroline was watching her companion curiously.

“Do you find many of your acquaintances in Africa look you up, Everard?” she asked.

“Except for Seaman,” Dominey replied, looking through the barrels of his gun, “who really does not count because we crossed together, this is my first visitor from the land of fortune. I expect there will be plenty of them by and by, though. Colonials have a wonderful habit of sticking to one another.”

XXI

There was nothing in the least alarming about the appearance of Mr. Ludwig Miller. He had been exceedingly well entertained in the butler’s private sitting-room and had the air of having done full justice to the hospitality which had been offered him. He rose to his feet at Dominey’s entrance and stood at attention. But for some slight indications of military training, he would have passed anywhere as a highly respectable retired tradesman.

“Sir Everard Dominey?” he enquired.

Dominey nodded assent. “That is my name. Have I seen you before?”

The man shook his head. “I am a cousin of Doctor Schmidt. I arrived in the Colony from Rhodesia, after your Excellency had left.”

“And how is the doctor?”

“My cousin is, as always, busy but in excellent health,” was the reply. “He sends his respectful compliments and his good wishes. Also this letter.”

With a little flourish the man produced an envelope inscribed:

To Sir Everard Dominey, Baronet,
Dominey Hall,
In the County of Norfolk,
England.

Dominey broke the seal just as Seaman entered.

“A messenger here from Doctor Schmidt, an acquaintance of mine in East Africa,” he announced. “Mr. Seaman came home from South Africa with me,” he explained to his visitor.

The two men looked steadily into each other’s eyes. Dominey watched them, fascinated. Neither betrayed himself by even the fall of an eyelid. Yet Dominey, his perceptive powers at their very keenest in this moment which instinct told him was one of crisis, felt the unspoken, unbetokened recognition which passed between them. Some commonplace remark was uttered and responded to. Dominey read the few lines which seemed to take him back for a moment to another world:

Honoured and Honourable Sir,

I send you my heartiest and most respectful greeting. Of the progress of all matters here you will learn from another source.

I recommend to your notice and kindness my cousin, the bearer of this letter⁠—Mr. Ludwig Miller. He will lay before you certain circumstances of which it is advisable for you to have knowledge. You may speak freely with him. He is in all respects to be trusted.

(Signed) Karl Schmidt.

“Your cousin is a little mysterious,” Dominey remarked, as he passed the letter to Seaman. “Come, what about these circumstances?”

Ludwig Miller looked around the little room and then at Seaman. Dominey affected to misunderstand his