Full Moon (Marriott Watson)

by H. B. Marriott Watson

FULL MOON.

By H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON.

"DO you happen to have any particular feeling for Rushworth?" Severne inquired.

Hollis, standing by him, directed a leisurely glance across the large drawing-room at the piano, where a man sat in a low chair strumming on a banjo.

"Yes," he said slowly, "I have."

"Ah, so have I," said Severne.

"It also appears that Miss Herrick has," remarked Hollis, stealing a glance at his neighbour.

Severne's face took on a slight shadow. "I wonder?" he said. And then: "We ought not to be talking. This is music."

"I think it's rather hard after musical chairs," said George Hollis, shifting his big frame. "I'm in disgrace. I sat in Mrs. Colchester's lap the last round but one."

"My dear friend, my sympathies," exclaimed Severne. "But I don't recollect that she has any."

"We call it so, for short," said Hollis, his impassive clean-shaven face turned towards the mobile countenance of the other. Severne was thirty, and of a nervous, active temperament; Hollis was nearly forty, and imperturbable.

"I wonder why the dickens we're not playing bridge?" said Severne restlessly, watching Miss Herrick at the piano. "Don't you hate a man who banjos?"

"I do. We're not playing bridge, if you will allow me to invert the order of your questions, because Mrs. Raymond has a fancy to return to the soil—I mean, of course, the nursery. Peace and good will, you know—musical chairs and muffins."

"Did anyone say muffins? I've not tasted a muffin for years. I suppose we're all mad to-night, Hollis. Who did you say sat on your knee?"

"I can't remember how many exactly."

"Hollis, do you see Mrs. Raymond? I believe she's making for us now Rushworth's row's finished. Hadn't we better——"

It was too late. "Oh, Mr. Severne, Mr. Hollis," their hostess's voice challenged them, "we're going to play at dumb crambo. Will you make up a party to go out?"

"Make me a child again just for to-night," murmured Hollis.

"It's a mad world, my mistress," said Severne, with a little bow, "but I'm glad to be mad with it. I choose Lady Smedley, Miss Herrick, Miss Fetherstone, Miss Peggy Fetherstone, and—and Miss Carr; also, to wit, viz., namely, item, Hollis here, Durnford, and, oh, Lord Alec Lee!"

"Thank you so much. I do like decision," said Mrs. Raymond. "Now please get your party out into the billiard-room, and wait there. We'll soon settle on something."

"There is a private access between the billiard-room and the supper-table, isn't there?" whispered Hollis in an important voice.

"If you desert me!" threatened Severne, as he bustled off to shepherd his flock out of the room.

"Time for a game?" inquired Hollis, pointing to the billiard table, as they stood waiting for the keyword.

"Certainly not," said Severne severely. "Why"—he broke off as the door opened—"what's the——"

"Oh, they haven't settled anything yet," said the new-comer. "I only thought I'd join you."

"Did you?" said Hollis. "Then you'd better think something else. We are seven. Go away, Rushworth."

Rushworth hesitated, and Hollis took him by the shoulders. "Go back to your dirty conspiracy. We have no room for traitors and renegades."

Julia Herrick glanced from one to the other, as if she would have said something, but she refrained. Severne watched her, with the shadow on his face.

"As a matter of fact, we are nine," observed Hollis, closing the door—"the exact number of the Graces."

"Pardon me, Muses," corrected Severne.

"Excuse me, Graces," insisted Hollis.

"Allow me, Muses," persisted Severne.

"My dear sir, if you only knew how absurd your contention——"

At this juncture the door opened, and a head emerged into the room.

"It rhymes with 'view,'" said the head, grinning, and was swiftly withdrawn, as if afraid of retaliation.

Severne threw up his hands in dismay.

"I knew it," he said. "That was Banks, wasn't it? I thought so—the grimacing—I knew he'd do something devilish."

"But 'view'! It's quite easy, Mr. Severne," protested Lady Smedley. "There's 'shoe' and 'Jew' and——"

"Oh, there are lots of rhymes!" said Peggy Fetherstone eagerly.

"That's just it," said Severne gloomily. "I've been thinking, since that malevolent Banks put his anthropomorphic face in, and I calculate there are either two hundred and seventy or three hundred and one words rhyming with 'view.'"

"Oh," said Evelyn Carr, "but you haven't had time to count them."

"It just came to me," he explained.

"Wait a bit—something's coming to me," said Hollis, solemnly putting up a warning hand. "Then it will take us exactly nineteen hours and twenty minutes to act them all, if we do it artistically, of course."

"But——" began Lady Smedley in perplexity.

"Hadn't we better start, then?" asked Miss Herrick dryly.

"That's not a bad notion," said Severne thoughtfully.

"Oh, let's get to work, Severne! I say, what do you say to 'zoo'?" Lord Alec Lee, a very live animal indeed, pushed his forceful way into the conversation. He was burning with rude vitality, and he plumed himself on his qualities as an actor.

"Excellent," said Severne, examining him. "You shall be the boar. Miss Herrick shall be the hen pheasant, Lady Smedley a cockatoo, Miss Fetherstone a gazelle, Miss Peggy a—a love-bird, and you must all make suitable noises."

"What am I to be?" demanded Hollis.

"You? Oh, a gorilla, I think!" said Severne.

"What about me, Mr. Severne?" inquired young Ashley Durnford, who was talking with Miss Fetherstone.

"Sorry I've given the principal part to Hollis," said Severne apologetically, "but you can be a monkey. Now let us rehearse."

"But I don't know how to be a cockatoo," wailed Lady Smedley. "What does a cockatoo say?"

"Say 'Pretty Polly!' in an insinuating voice," suggested George Hollis, with his impassive humorous countenance. "I'm going to say 'Grrrr-r-r!'"

"But this is dumb crambo," said Julia Herrick in protest. "We can't make noises."

"Well, how the dickens can we act 'zoo' if we don't?" demanded Severne.

"I don't believe it's 'zoo' at all," said Lady Smedley. "'View' and 'zoo' don't really rhyme."

"Let's try 'stew.' Lady Smedley shall go on with a pot, and we'll pretend to taste it," said Severne.

"I say, Severne, I've been practising my roar as a boar," put in Lord Alec, who had been moaning in a corner by himself and making low and unnatural noises. "Aren't we ready?"

"We're not going to do 'zoo'; it doesn't rhyme," said Severne hastily. "It's going to be 'stew.'"

"I say, but can't I get off my roar?"

"My dear fellow—yes, of course. You can roar for the stew, or you can have a pain after you've tasted it."

"I wish," said Miss Herrick, speaking generally, "that we could get to work."

"If someone will get a pot, we can," said Hollis.

Someone got a pot from a waylaid servant, and the procession streamed into the long drawing-room. Hollis stirred the pot, and ladled out portions into the palms of the cave men and women.

"It is not 'stew'!" roared the audience, and the discomforted retired with a rush.

"It was that creature Rushworth who found it out," declared Hollis, with darkling brow.

"But anyone could tell," said Miss Peggy.

"Well, they oughtn't to. What are we there for, if not to puzzle them?" asked Hollis.

"I say, what price 'Loo'?" broke in Lord Alec.

"I should prefer 'Ju,'" said Severne lightly.

"I mean unlimited loo, don't you know," explained Lee.

"I mean unlimited Jew, don't you know," explained Severne, faintly aflush as he felt Julia Herrick's wondering eyes on him.

"I've got it," announced Hollis solemnly. "Don't all clap me on the back at once. 'To.'"

"To what?" asked Severne peevishly.

"Simply 'to;'" said Hollis.

Severne flung himself down in a chair. "Would you mind seeing if there's any brandy in the supper-room, Miss Carr?" he said weakly. "Is the man insane?"

"I think 'too' isn't a bad idea," put in Ashley Durnford, rather self-conscious and quite young. "Too utter, you know."

"How exactly you express my feelings!" murmured Severne. "More brandy, please!"

"Why not try 'woo'?" inquired Lady Smedley.

"Why not?" said Severne, getting to his feet. "I've been wanting to try it for——"

"Do shut up, my dear fellow, or tell us how we're to woo. 'Tell me, Mary, how to woo thee.' Does anyone here know how to woo?" demanded Hollis loudly.

There was a silence.

"Lady Smedley?" he asked.

"Good gracious me," said that lady, flushing, "do you suppose I——"

"No, of course not—stupid of me! Severne?"

Severne was conscious that Julia Herrick's eyes were on him; the others' also may have been, for all he knew.

"I've long wanted to have a try at it," he said modestly, "but I don't know if I should be successful."

"Oh, we don't care if you're rejected; we only want to know how it's done!" said Hollis brutally.

"There are several ways," said Severne. "If you play an instrument like the mandoline or the banjo, for example, you——"

"Oh, let's do it this way!" broke in Lord Alec, flinging himself impetuously on his knee and raising clasped hands, while his eyes streamed entreaties.

"Do you recommend this way, Severne?" asked Hollis impressively.

"Better ask the ladies," said Severne moodily.

Hollis inquired of them with a gesture.

"I say, aren't you ever coming in?" inquired a head in the doorway.

"Seize that Banks! Suppress that Banks!" commanded Hollis. "Go away; we're rehearsing."

The door shut.

"Oh, let's go in and do it just anyhow!" said Lady Smedley impatiently.

"There's a lady apiece," said Hollis, counting. "Oh, no, there's one over. Someone will have to woo two!"

"Two!" said Severne, frowning. "How would 'two' do?"

"I suggested 'too,'" put in Durnford eagerly.

"Suppose two of us go on," said Severne thoughtfully.

"An idea has just come to me," said Hollis. "How would you do 'do'?"

"Thanks very much, I'm quite well. How do you do?" responded Severne.

"I said, how would you do 'do'?"

"I believe Rostand——"

"I say, what about 'cock-a-doodle-do'?" asked Lord Alec excitedly.

"If we're not going in, I'm going out," said Lady Smedley wearily.

"You woo two, Severne," enjoined Hollis, as they made a general movement to the door.

It was Lord Alec, however, who claimed the two, of whom one was Miss Herrick. To Severne's lot fell Peggy Fetherstone.

"Let's see. Do I woo you, or you woo me?" he asked in a whisper. "If the latter, 'ask me no more, or at a touch I yield.'"

A storm of hissing abruptly concluded this "show," and the players were in a huddled retreat at once.

"It's no use," said Hollis, wiping his fevered brow. "I feel positively vicious when I think of those two hundred and seventy words. Phew!"

"Good Heavens, that's another! I hadn't reckoned that one," remarked Severne sadly.

"What one?"

"Why, 'phew,' of course."

"I say," broke in Lord Alec tempestuously, "why, that's it—'few,' you know, 'f-e-w.'"

"Oh!" said Hollis coldly. "And pray how are you going to act that?"

"Why, a few of us could go on, you know."

"So you could. Lee, go on. You're few!"

"No, hang it—one can't be few!"

"There can't be fewer than one," declared Hollis.

"I'll go on—with Miss Carr," said Lord Alec.

"Thank Heaven for a respite!" said Hollis, sinking into a chair. "Where did you say the supper-room was?"

"Don't let him go, Miss Herrick. He's a poor thing, but our own."

"Do you know, I've just thought of another," said Miss Fetherstone brightly. "'Flu'—the influenza, you know."

Hollis groaned.

"How jolly!" exclaimed Severne. "We can all go about sneezing."

"I thought you hadn't to make a noise," said Lady Smedley.

"There are the geese. Out comes Lee with his little lot," said Hollis vulgarly.

The door burst open. "I thought of it when I was on the stage, being 'few,'" broke out Lord Alec breathlessly. "It's a brilliant idea, and quite spoiled my acting of 'few.' Did I act badly?" he inquired anxiously of Miss Carr.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," urged Severne.

"It's 'glue.' And, I say, I'll stick to a chair, and some of you can pull me off it, don't you know. Miss Herrick, you'll——"

"Indeed, I won't stick to a chair for anyone!" protested Miss Herrick indignantly.

"No; I want you to help pull me off. Don't you see? I'm sure we've got it this time."

"Let him stick to a chair, and let the ladies pull him off," murmured Hollis to Severne, "pending that supper-room you spoke of."

"Hush!" enjoined Severne, as the rest of the company sidled out of the door. "As we are alone and unobserved, I don't mind if I do, but positively only one sandwich and one glass of sherry."

"Port!" pleaded Hollis.

"Well, port! On your head be it!"

When Alec Lee headed his routed rabble back from the drawing-room, the desertion of the traitors was noted, and search was duly made. They were discovered comfortably ensconced in the supper-room, talking of "Elektra."

"Severne and I have been maturing a scheme," explained Hollis deprecatingly. "We think we're on the track. We've got a clue, anyway. Clue!" he repeated, with an uneasy frown. "At least, we present it to your consideration as a matter of tactics. I am partly of Scottish extraction, as you are aware, and the following interesting dialogue has occurred to me as possibly bearing on the situation. The scene is on a wool market; persons of the drama, two, buyer and seller. Dialogue as under—

"'Oo?'

"'Ay, oo.'

"'A oo?'

"'Ay, a oo.'

"'A ae oo?'

"'Ay, a ae oo.'"

"I beg pardon," said Severne, "will you say that again?"

"I'm not quite sure if I can remember it," said Hollis, "but it is interpreted thus—

"'Wool?'

"'Yes, wool.'

"'All wool?'

"'Yes, all wool.'

"'All one wool?'

"'Yes, all one wool.'

"Now, I should like to suggest that we act 'oo.'"

"They would never guess it," objected Alec Lee.

"Precisely. We should have the fun of watching their distress. They are even now rejoicing in the fact of having set us a teaser, if you will pardon the vulgarism. Now is our chance to set them a teaser. Let me remind the company that we stay on that platform until they do guess it, and that there are chairs. In fact, from being the tortured we become the torturers."

This speech was greeted with enthusiastic applause, and it was resolved to put the plan into operation forthwith.

Headed by Hollis, solemnly impassive, the party filed into the drawing-room and began. They spun wool, they carded wool, they bought and sold wool, they wore wool, and they tore wool. Wool was admired and appraised, wool was priced; the whole operations connected with wool, from the sheep's back to the man's back, were gone through. The audience looked on puzzled. It ventured tentative guesses.

"It isn't 'dew'?"

The party solemnly continued to exchange wool.

"It isn't 'grew'?" … "It isn't 'crew'?" came in isolated shots from the wondering crowd.

The party on the platform was now engaged in making woollen garments of various sorts. Whispering started in the audience, and flew across it like a flame. Doubt, impatience, irritation—the calm performers saw all these emotions passing over the faces of their victims. They rested on chairs, while the audience shouted guesses to which no heed was paid. Indeed, it was as if no audience existed for these serene and lofty players on the platform. It looked as if a deadlock had been reached, when, as Lord Alec frantically and with exceeding definition was clipping wool from a struggling sheep, a Scot in the audience had an inspiration, and roared out—

"It's not 'oo,' and it isn't fair!"

The players retired amid a storm of booing.

"Sharp practice, I admit," said Hollis complacently, "but I flatter myself we've done well by it. We have now had something like two hundred words repudiated. In fact, I don't know that there are any left."

"But the one must be left," argued Lady Smedley. "I'm sure I'm tired of it all."

"There's 'pooh,'" suggested Miss Fetherstone.

"We haven't had 'blue,'" said Miss Peggy.

"Oh, could it be 'Hugh'?" asked Miss Carr eagerly.

"Who?" asked Hollis, and suddenly stood, brought up. gazing into space with dreamy eyes. " At last! I feel it in my bones. Habet! I mean Habemus, otherwise Eureka. Alone I did it! Ladies and gentlemen—'who'!"

"Well, go on—finish your sentence!" said Severne querulously. "Who what?"

"Simply 'who,'" said Hollis. "Let us go and enact 'who.'"

"I thought we'd just done it," said Severne.

"We are not all aitchless Cockneys!" retorted Hollis. "Come, children, you must each go about seeming to ask that enthralling question—who?"

"Where's Miss Herrick?" inquired Lady Smedley, as they trailed through the door.

"Probably in the supper-room," said Hollis wistfully.

But she wasn't. Severne detected her in the audience. She had basely deserted them in their—— He saw Rushworth join her at the back of the room, offering her a seat, and whispering confidentially. How wonderfully beautiful she looked in her cream gown!

"Sorry!" he murmured, as he observed Hollis scowling. "Who? I mean——" He rehearsed the grotesque gesture which was passing current among them for the interrogative pronoun. Out of the tail of his eye he saw Rushworth's head bent towards Julia Herrick. A sound of clapping struck on his ears. George Hollis beamed.

"I told you so," he said to his company. "If you want an acting manager, or a puzzle editor, you know where to apply."

"But what was the answer?" inquired Severne, his gaze wandering. "Surely this is a strange house. How long have we been out in the wilderness? Me thinks that is Mrs. Raymond yonder—grown older, no doubt, but even handsomer. Will someone reintroduce me? Is my hair grey?"

"I'll tell you what," said Hollis gravely, "your head's wrong. Better come and have a drink. I'm warm after all that 'whoing.' I seem to remember having been interrupted in the middle of a drink."

He linked his arm in Severne's, and was making for the door. The hostess intervened.

"No." Hollis shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but it's out of the question, Mrs. Raymond. We're going into the supper-room to drown care in the bowl—Severne because he's a bore, and has just had it revealed to him; I because Miss Peggy won't have me. Good-bye! Think of us both kindly. By the way, have you the key to the cellar?"

Severne tore himself away. "I've just thought of something," he said apologetically.

"Don't say you've just remembered you were married to-day!" urged Hollis. "Well," he added with a sigh, as Severne disappeared, "I shall have to get drunk all alone."

Severne fled through the length and breadth of the drawing-room. Where was Miss Herrick? She and Rushworth had vanished. In the billiard-room Alec Lee was engaged in teaching several girls how not to dig holes in the cloth. He opened the long French windows that gave on the terrace, and looked out. White moonlight silvered the lawn, and shone on the shoulder of quivered and sandalled Artemis in the distance.

"Isn't it a beautiful night?" said a nice voice in his ear.

"Divine!" He turned to face Peggy Fetherstone, and behind her the unfathomable countenance of George Hollis.

"We're just making up a party to sacrifice to the goddess yonder," explained Hollis. "There are several young ladies anxious to do so—taking vows, don't you know. We shall be glad of your assistance as under-priest. I'm chief priest."

Where was Julia Herrick? Was that a flutter of skirts in the moonlight?

"Sir Priest, I am at your disposal," said Severne, bowing.

"My children, advance into the night. The omens are favourable," said Hollis in a hollow voice. "Inspector Lee, don't barge like that; you'll have me over. I call him 'Inspector,' because he inspects the victims," he explained to the others.

Along the white paths the procession wended its way. Severne noted Evelyn Carr and young Durnford were constituents in it, besides Miss Fetherstone and Miss Peggy and Lord Alec.

"You may have imagined," Hollis was saying, "that supper was the most important fixture in to-night's entertainment. You are wrong," he said severely. "The climax of to-night's affair is in the sacrifice to Artemis."

"What are we going to sacrifice?" asked Miss Peggy with a little giggle.

"Hush!" said Hollis, suddenly halting before the stone statue. The moonlight illuminated it—Diana, tall and lissom, with the quiver on her shoulder. "Please tell me," said Hollis in a troubled voice—"I see a bow and arrows. This isn't Cupid, by any chance?"

"Oh, no!" three feminine voices assured him.

"That's a relief," said he, sighing. "It would never have done. So long as it's Artemis, we're all right." He explained in a loud aside to Severne: "These young ladies have promised to vow themselves to Artemis. We're not safe until they do, you know."

"I know," said Severne moodily. "I've always had my fears."

Miss Carr and Miss Peggy were giggling happily at this nonsense. Hollis produced matches from his pocket. "I forgot," he suddenly exclaimed; "we ought to have a maiden to sacrifice." He looked round. "Miss Peggy——"

"Indeed, I'm not!" protested Miss Peggy.

"Well, Miss Carr?" suggested Hollis hopefully.

That young lady shook her head in laughter.

Hollis gazed helplessly about him, and then brightened.

"I know," he said, "and this is rather complicated. You remember the dumb crambo business? Well, the fact is, we never solve it."

"Yes, we said 'who,'" said Miss Fetherstone.

"I ask you," replied Hollis contemptuously, "is 'who' an answer to a question? I ask you without prejudice—can an interrogation be an answer or a solution? I answer myself emphatically: 'No, it cannot.' Very well, then. That being so, on whom does the responsibility rest of having produced this situation?"

"What situation?" inquired Lord Alec.

"Inspector, be quiet; the High Priest speaks. I ask you again—on whom does the responsibility rest? I pause for an answer … There is none. Thank you. Once more, I answer myself, oracularly—on whom but upon that one who traitorously went over to the enemy?"

"Miss Herrick!" exclaimed Miss Peggy.

"Our youngest postulant, looking through white clear eyes of innocence, sees it at once," pursued Hollis, waving his hand. "Justice demands the traitorous one to be offered in sacrifice. Let the knives be sharpened! Where are my matches?"

He struck one, and let the flame shine on the calm face of the statue. "The hour is auspicious. Assistant priest Severne, bring the victim. Methinks she will be found in this vicinity, probably hiding from her just fate in the adjacent summer-house."

With empressement he indicated the dome of a building through the trees. Severne took a step as if he would have gone, hesitated a moment, and then disappeared.

"In the meantime," said the High Priest, "let us have a little refreshment." He produced a box of chocolates from a pocket, and handed them round the company. Meanwhile Severne had reached the garden-house, and for an appreciable point of time paused. Voices emerged on the night air. He ground his teeth and moved into the moonlight before the open door.

"Miss Herrick, I believe?" he said, bowing. "I have been sent to acquaint you that your attendance is instantly requested at the statue of Artemis."

"Statue … Artemis!" exclaimed Miss Herrick in wonder.

"Will you allow me?" he persisted.

A man's figure rose with hers, and he knew who it was before they emerged.

"Who wants me?" asked Julia Herrick.

"Good Heavens, as if I didn't!" said Severne to himself; but aloud: "A whole company, whose identity will be revealed to you when you join them."

Miss Herrick laughed. "Oh, come on, then!" she said, but her words had a certain nervousness in them.

They swung off upon the gravel path, fringed with the lilacs and syringas. The walk passed through a patch of deep blackness a little farther on, where the cypresses engulphed it. Rushworth was walking on the lawn side, and at the patch of darkness Severne drew up, with a detaining hand on Miss Herrick's arm.

"Would you mind—are there steps there?" he asked.

"I'll see," said Rushworth, plunging into the shadows.

Severne twirled about. "Come," he whispered to Miss Herrick. "There's only one chance for you. You are in danger, though you don't know it. Trust yourself to me, and run."

"But—but——" She was bewildered. It had such a serious sound. Was he in fun?

An exclamation came from the distance. "I say, there aren't any steps, but I've barked my shins on an infernal—I believe it's a tool-shed, or potting-shed, or something!"

"It is," whispered Severne in the girl's ear. "Come—the sands are running out!"

She allowed him to take her arm in his grasp, and then she found she was slipping across the moonlit spaces of the lawn at a quick pace.

"Oh, but I can't—my feet!" she panted. Severne came to a pause near a little gate which opened into the rose-garden.

"What have I done?" he asked in remorse, stooping to take her foot in his hands.

"No, please don't; it hasn't come off. But the dew—I was afraid—— Why did you run away like that from poor Mr. Rushworth?" she asked.

"Do you know what they were going to do with you?" he asked, trying to keep his heart from beating so fiercely.

"No. Who? What?"

"They were going to force you to take vows before the shrine of Artemis," he said portentously.

Miss Herrick laughed. "Were they? How interesting! Well, why shouldn't I?"

"It would be monstrous! said Severne.

Julia Herrick seemed to be regarding her feet. "You've made my shoes horribly wet coming across that wretched lawn," she protested.

"What are wet feet when hearts bleed?" he demanded.

"You're foolish," said Miss Herrick. "We must go back and find Mr. Rushworth. I think it was abominable of you to let him fall over!"

Severne touched her arm with his fingers, and thrilled to do so. "Hist!" he whispered. "Do you notice a figure, rather saturnine, yonder by the laurels?"

"Yes; is it——"

"My own belief is that it is Alec Lee sent out to find both of us. The High Priest—Hollis—is determined."

"Well, what does it matter?" she asked lightly.

"My dear lady, forgive me," pursued Severne in intense earnest. "I have deceived you. They don't want you to take vows to Artemis. They want you for something worse even—for a sacrifice!"

Julia Herrick repeated wonderingly: "Sacrifice!"

He nodded. "Yes, they are awaiting the victim. I came to warn you. Come. If that is the Inspector of Omens, we had better flit."

She laughed and passed into the rosary with him. Night had one moon and a thousand blinded stars. The figure by the laurels caught a glimpse of them, and sped after them.

"Come! We are seen! We must escape! The thought of you lying on that altar——" Severne caught her by the arm that thrilled him, and they went lightly across the flags of the walks by the sun-dial, which was now a moon-dial, and so into the wold garden beyond. The pursuer followed.

"One more effort and we are free!" exclaimed Severne, making a dash into the hazel copse.

Julia Herrick found herself breathless, a little dishevelled, and between laughter and protest, in the darkness of the grove. Severne pushed on quickly by a pathway, and, turning at right angles, slipped out again into the open, and drew his charge with him up into the shadows of the hazels. Footsteps and the cracking of twigs could be heard within the copse.

"We are safe," said Severne.

"I believe," said Miss Herrick suspiciously, "that it was Mr. Rushworth. What is he doing?"

"Exploring the grove of nuts," said Severne coolly. "I hope he is enjoying it. The beauty of the hazels is that one is so like another that you never know where you are."

"It's a shame!" declared Miss Herrick.

"Do you still hear him?" said Severne.

Miss Herrick listened. "Yes," she said. There was a tremendous crack, and upon that exclamations followed.

"I hope you don't hear what he is saying," said Severne coolly.

"Mr. Severne, you must get him out," she said firmly.

"Well, he is bound to find his way out in time," said Severne. "If he only keeps on, the copse doesn't last for ever—unless, of course, he were to go round in a circle, which is possible. Oh, and there's the pond!"

"What pond?" asked Miss Herrick severely.

"In the centre of the grove is a pond. Of course, if he didn't happen to notice it, and if he were in a hurry——"

"Mr. Severne, I insist upon your getting him out. It's—it's not fair."

"All is fair——" said he, and paused. Miss Herrick, too, was silent. "I will get him out if you promise me something," he went on.

"I will promise nothing," she replied hastily. "I can't think how you can—— I'll call to him myself."

"Then he'll probably fall right into the pond. It must be just about where he is."

"Hullo!" called Hollis's voice. "Is anyone there? What's happening? Is it a circus?"

"Stand in the shadow," said Severne to Miss Herrick. "It's the Artemis gang. I will save you yet. No, it's only Rushworth," he explained to the approaching group. "He's practising for the obstacle race. Are these Diana's wood nymphs?"

"Not a bit of it, my dear fellow," returned the Arch-priest. "Do you know, they all turned turtle when it came to the point—swore off. They're still at large, worse luck."

"Mr. Hollis, I insist on someone going in to rescue Mr. Rushworth," said Julia Herrick, showing herself.

"Hear the predestined victim," said Hollis. "But, alas, I forgot.

 

'Authority forgets a dying priest …
Laid widowed of the power within the eye.

 

I'm nobody now. Would any of you young ladies like to rescue Rushworth?"

"Wasn't that a plop? I believe he's fallen in," said Severne.

"Mr. Hollis—Lord Alec—someone!" cried Miss Herrick impatiently.

"I'm always afraid of the dark, and particularly of copses," said Hollis. "Nymphs haunt them. Still, if someone will take my hand—Miss Peggy. Let us all advance together. First door on the left, please. En avant!"

The procession moved off, but Severne did not join it, nor did Miss Herrick.

"Now that we've got rid of them so comfortably, let us go," said he.

Miss Herrick looked at him in the moonlight. "Really!" she said, protesting, and laughed.

"I want to tell you the real answer to our dumb crambo," he said pleadingly. "You know we didn't get it."

"Oh, but you did—'who.'" They had begun to walk in the direction of the house.

"Ah, that was the mistake. The interrogative never can be an answer to anything."

"Can't it?" she said. "I thought——"

"Never," he interrupted with decision. "Now, Miss Herrick, let me tell you the real answer. Shall I? 'Who' leads up to it."

"Well?" They had reached the long walk, and came to a pause in the moonlight. The statue of Artemis, rigid and austerely virginal, overshadowed them.

"I begged of an answer. The only answer for me in the universe is—'you.'"

"Indeed!" she said, after a tiny pause.

"Julia!" He took that arm that had thrilled him.

"I think we are all mad to-night. We shall be sensible to-morrow," she protested.

"Would you have taken the oath, then?" he asked, pointing to the statue.

"I don't know. No—yes. Why do you ask me?" she inquired in some confusion.

"I have told you my answer. Please tell me yours," he asked softly.

"I thought you knew," she answered as softly.

"Rushworth——"

"Is a very nice performer on the banjo," she said, and laughed a little unevenly.

"Thank Heaven!" he ejaculated. "How I love you, dearest! Come!" He took her in his arms, and pressed her face to his. "And now I can defy Artemis the ruthless." Sounds issued from the distance. "And Rushworth and all," he said triumphantly. "I wonder if he did fall in?"

"Oh, I hope not!" said Julia, but she laughed.

Copyright, 1910, by H. B. Marriott Watson, in the United States of America.