In the kitchen the doctor was kneeling beside the first patient, forcing brandy between the blue lips. He got up when Tregellis entered carrying the girl, but was forestalled by Mrs. Lorrimer, who bustled forward, making little sounds of pity. It was she who drove them all out save the doctor, while she stripped the saturated clothing from the slim body and wrapped her in a warm blanket.
When Tony came in again the two castaways were lying side by side in front of the great range, and Gaunt was ministering to them both.
“How are they, Doctor?” he asked.
“They’ll be all right. There’s nothing seriously wrong now except for exposure and exhaustion. You undoubtedly saved the girl’s life, though; she was nearly gone, Tregellis tells me.”
“Good!” said Tony, and peered closer at the faces of the couple. He uttered a great cry, and sprang erect.
“Why, Doctor, it’s John Hamilton! You remember —?”
“Of course I remember,” Gaunt replied quietly, “I recognized him at once.”
“But what an extraordinary thing — ”
“Is it, Tony? Nothing is extraordinary in this fantastic world. I might have anticipated something like this.”
“What do you mean, Doctor?”
“Nothing. Help me get them to bed. Mrs. Lorrimer is preparing two rooms over here. They will be warmer than anywhere else.”
So that night Hamilton and Valerie lay on Kestrel isle, in a deep coma of utter exhaustion, unaware that they had been miraculously saved from a watery grave.
When Valerie awoke she found herself in a low, cosy room with stone walls and narrow, uncurtained windows, and a cheerful fire making dancing patterns on the ceiling. A grey light was struggling in from outside, but a lamp still burnt beside the bed.
She looked round in drowsy wonder, and a kind-faced, grey-haired woman came to her side, carrying a great bowl of soup.
“Drink this, my dear, and don’t talk.”
Valerie obeyed both commands, and lay back, feeling deliciously lazy, and far too sleepy to think. A tall, dark man, with silver-streaked hair and piercing eyes, came in and sat by the bedside, feeling her pulse. She supposed she had been ill and that this was the doctor, but where she was she hadn’t the faintest notion. Then the doctor told her to go to sleep, and without more ado she did so.
Gaunt got up and went into the adjoining room, where he sat down beside the still-sleeping Hamilton, gently taking the young man’s hands in his.
For a long time he sat thus, his look withdrawn and his lips moving slightly. Then he called to Mrs. Lorrimer, who came in with another bowl of soup. Hamilton opened his eyes and sat up, staring around. He recognized them both, and remembered instantly — the boat, the storm, the rocks and —
“Valerie! Is she safe?”
“Quite safe, my boy,” answered Gaunt, “asleep in the next room. Now drink this, and try to get some more sleep.”
Reassured, Hamilton obediently drank his soup, and was soon asleep once more.
The doctor went back to Valerie, and repeated the process he had performed with her companion-in-distress, holding her hands and whispering softly, his glittering eyes fixed upon her quiet face.
When he joined his colleague Vaughan in the great hall he was smiling with satisfaction. The other noticed this at once and asked:
“You have been successful, then?”
Gaunt laughed softly.
“Eminently so, my friend,” he said. “They knew a little, and suspected — much. When they wake again they will know nothing and suspect less. All is well.”
“Did you have any difficulty with Hamilton?”
“Very little. He was so exhausted that I overcame his will almost at once. The girl was easy.”
Chapter XIV
When Hamilton woke again he found Tony sitting beside him. As soon as he opened his eyes the other spoke.
“Well, John, feeling better?”
Hamilton stretched luxuriously.
“I feel fine now, Tony, thanks. How is Valerie — Miss Bennett?”
“The girl who was with you? She’d doing very well. Who is she, John?”
“Niece of the rector at Pentock. An awfully nice girl.”
“So I should imagine. How on earth did you come to be out in that storm?”
Hamilton related the story, and then Tony told him how they had been saved from the deep.
“It’s little short of miraculous that you’re here at all, John,” he concluded.
“Yes. And we owe our lives to you and your servants, Tony. If they hadn’t fished us out of the harbour we should certainly have been drowned. Is the storm over yet?”
Tony went to the window and looked out. It was late afternoon, but the sky was a uniform slate colour, and the gale was still raging furiously. The continuous thunder of the surf could be plainly heard.
“It’s still very rough, John,” said he. “I suppose you want to get back as soon as possible?”
“Yes, or at least to get a message to Father Bennett.”
“No chance of that yet, I’m afraid,” answered Tony. “We couldn’t possibly get across in the launch. It may be days before we can get in touch. We’ve been cut off here before after a storm like yesterday’s.”
“That’s awkward. The rector will have given us up for lost. However, it can’t be helped. We shall have to trespass still further on your hospitality for a while, that’s all.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, John. Now I must be off. You mustn’t talk too much yet.”
After the door had closed behind his friend Hamilton lay thinking how fortunate they were to have fallen into such good hands. For a moment a vague recollection of something unpleasant that he had read or heard — he couldn’t be sure which — about Kestrel rose in his mind, but he dismissed it at once. It was very good to lie here, warm and comfortable, after the hell of the previous night, watching the cheerful glow of the fire, and knowing that Valerie was safe in the next room.
At about the same hour Valerie also woke to find Mrs. Lorrimer still with her. At first she was just as puzzled as on the occasion of her first awakening, and asked where she was.
Mrs. Lorrimer put down her sewing and turned towards her.
“Ah, so, you’re awake now, my dear,” she said. “Don’t worry, you’re quite safe. You’re on Kestrel Island; my husband helped pull you and Mr. Hamilton out of the sea last night.”
Recollection came back with a rush, and the girl’s face whitened.
“John — is he safe?” she breathed.
“Yes, my dear. Quite safe and sound. You’re both very fortunate to be alive at all. You were in God’s hands last night.”
Valerie lay and contemplated the wonder of it. They were safe, and here she was, on Kestrel Island, actually within the walls of the Abbey, that fairy castle of romance which she had so often gazed at longingly from the mainland. It was almost too good to be true.
“Is old Sir Anthony here?” she asked.
“No, my dear; he’s dead now, you know, and his son is master of Kestrel.”
“Yes, of course. How silly of me! John’s friend — I had forgotten.”
It was not the only thing she had forgotten, for all memory of the dark mystery which surrounded Tony and his associates had been blotted out of her mind, as out of Hamilton’s, by the iron will of Dr. Gaunt.