Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (242 page)

Archie
Cranfield,
which
seemed
to
the
agitated
solicitor
rather
a
cry of
distress
than
a
message
sent
across
the
wires.

Come
at
once.
I
am
in
terrible
need.

Cranfield

There
were
no
trains
at
so
late
an
hour
by
which
Mr.
Twiss
could reach
his
client;
he
must
needs
wait
until
the
morning.
He
travelled, however,
by
the
first
train
from
Liverpool
Street.
Although
the
newspapers
were
set
out
upon
the
bookstall,
not
one
of
them
contained
a word
of
anything
amiss
at
Archie
Cranfield's
house,
and
Mr.
Twiss began
to
breathe
more
freely.
It
was
too
early
for
a
cab
to
be
in
waiting
at
the
station,
and
Mr.
Twiss
set
out
to
walk
the
six
miles.
It
was a
fine,
clear
morning
of
November;
but
for
the
want
of
leaves
and birds,
and
the
dull
look
of
the
countryside,
Mr.
Twiss
might
have believed
the
season
to
be
June.
His
spirits
rose
as
he
walked,
his
blood warmed
to
a
comfortable
glow,
and
by
the
time
he
came
to
the
gates of
the
house,
Cranfield's
summons
had
become
a
trifling
thing.
As
he walked
up
to
the
door,
however,
his
mood
changed,
for
every
blind in
the
house
was
drawn.
The
door
was
opened
before
he
could
touch the
bell,
and
it
was
opened
by
Cranfield
himself.
His
face
was
pale and
disordered,
his
manner
that
of
a
man
at
his
wits'
end.

"What
has
happened?"
asked
Mr.
Twiss
as
he
entered
the
hall.

"A
terrible
thing!"
replied
Cranfield.
"It's
Brayton.
Have
you
breakfasted?
I
suppose
not.
Come,
and
I
will
tell
you
while
you
eat."

He
walked
up
and
down
the
room
while
Mr.
Twiss
ate
his
breakfast,
and
gradually,
by
question
and
by
answer,
the
story
took
shape. Corroboration
was
easy
and
was
secured.
There
was
no
real
dispute about
the
facts;
they
were
simple
and
clear.

There
were
two
other
visitors
in
the
house
besides
Captain
Brayton, one
a
barrister
named
Henry
Chalmers,
and
the
second,
William Linfield,
a
man
about
town,
as
the
phrase
goes.
Both
men
stood
in much
the
same
relationship
to
Archie
Cranfield
as
Captain
Brayton did—that
is
to
say,
they
were
old
friends
who
had
seen
little
of
their host
of
late,
and
were
somewhat
surprised
to
receive
his
invitation after
so
long
an
interval.
They
had
accepted
it
in
the
same
spirit
as Brayton,
and
the
three
men
arrived
together
on
Wednesday
evening. On
Thursday
the
party
of
four
shot
over
some
turnip
fields
and
a
few clumps
of
wood
which
belonged
to
the
house,
and
played
a
game
of bridge
in
the
evening.
In
the
opinion
of
all,
Brayton
was
never
in better
spirits.
On
Friday
the
four
men
shot
again
and
returned
to
the house
as
darkness
was
coming
on.
They
took
tea
in
the
smoking
room, and
after
tea
Brayton
declared
his
intention
to
write
some
letters
before
dinner.
He
went
upstairs
to
his
room
for
that
purpose.