Devil's Tor by David Lindsay

Author:David Lindsay [Lindsay, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter XIX

ARRIVAL OF ARSINAL

Saltfleet descended to the coffee-room for breakfast next morning, to be confronted by the surprising vision of the very man he was to wire, who must have travelled down from Oxford by the night train, reaching Belhill on the first connection from Plymouth. Arsinal looked thoroughly pale and fagged, having shadowy patches of exhaustion under his eyes; but otherwise seemed to have found time to shave and tub, and was sitting alone in the room in dark indoor clothes, pensively reading the Western Morning News by the window. He sighted Saltfleet quickly, and got up with his habitual unpretending dignity.

They met.

"I wished not to hurry your movements, so refrained from sending my name up," explained Arsinal. "In fact, but for a strange chance in a thousand, I would not be here at all. I was pressed to dine last evening by one of the professors I know very well, who desired me to meet his wife, and though I had work enough to do, I could see no way out, so went. After dinner they put on the wireless for half an hour, and among the news items broadcast happened to be this sensational death of Drapier's on a Dartmoor tor. Accordingly, as soon as I could decently get away, I motored to Swindon, and there caught the night express going west. … I thought I should be on the spot, in case of any hitch. At the station below they directed me to this hotel as the leading establishment, so I tried for you here at a venture. Now tell me, Saltfleet—did you get to meet Drapier before his tragical death?"

"No. But I was the one to find him lying dead. And as, quite amazingly, his hand chanced to be clutching our article, I made no bones about it, but took it; and have it. It is upstairs."

A gleam of astonishment and satisfaction crossed Arsinal’s face.

"That saves much trouble. … I am to breakfast with you, I believe. And afterwards we can adjourn to your room."

"I have a sitting-room."

"You can show it to me there. But why didn't you wire me, Saltfleet? You knew my anxiety."

"Things happened, and I left it too late; but this morning I was going to."

"There is no complication?"

"There's a development, but we had better leave it till after breakfast, with the other."

"Nothing awkward, I trust?"

"With luck, just the reverse."

"Then I cannot imagine," said Arsinal.

"I can only set things before you in their right order, so pray have the patience. And while I think of it, I must send off a line. Your coming is expected, and I must notify that you are here."

"I am still to be told nothing?"

"I can't tell you piecemeal. We're to attend a meeting during the day at the place in the village of a man called Copping. To him I am now to write."

Seating himself before the writing-table, he penned swiftly

"DEAR MR. COPPING,

A. is already come, so will you fix up a time as soon as possible, and send me word?

Sincerely yours,

HENRY SALTFLEET.

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