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Both at Oxford and at Martinhoe, in North Devon, where he spent some time during the vacations, Hannington preserved his reputation for fun and love of adventure. At Oxford he took part in practical jokes innumerable; at Martinhoe cliff-climbing and adventurous scrambles occupied some little of his time.
When she looked up, her face seemed pinched and older. Her voice, however, was steady. "Let us have an understanding," she said. "You do not desire my return to Martinhoe?" "I do not," he agreed. "And what about Cheverton House here?" "I have nothing to do with it," he replied. "You persuaded me to allow you to take it and I have lived with you there.
Christopher Badcock was a tenant farmer, in the parish of Martinhoe, renting some fifty acres of land, with a right of common attached to them; and at this particular time, being now the month of February, and fine open weather, he was hard at work ploughing and preparing for spring corn.
The car stopped. Tallente held Lady Alice's hand as he had seldom held the hand of a woman in his life. A curious incapacity for speech checked the words even upon his lips. "Thank you," he faltered. Upon the moor above Martinhoe and the farm lands adjoining, spring had fallen that year as gently as the warm rain of April.
The young man's subtle intimation was a shock in more ways than one. "The manuscript to which you refer," he said at last, "was stolen from my study at Martinhoe under somewhat peculiar conditions." "Perhaps you would like to explain those conditions to Mr. Horlock," Williams suggested. Tallente held open the door.
De Wichehalse was strongly attached to his nephew, and failed to see any good reason why a certain large farm near Martinhoe, quite a huge cantle from the Ley estates, which by a prior devise must fall to Albert upon his own demise, should be allowed to depart in that way from his posthumous control.
"You would not understand the situation, but its interest and my danger centres round a certain document which was stolen from my study at Martinhoe on or just before the day of my arrival from London last August." "How dull!" she murmured. "That document," he went on, "was purloined by Anthony Palliser from the safe in my study.
The mist, which had hung like a spectral curtain over the little demesne of Martinhoe Manor, had almost entirely disappeared when, at a few minutes before eight, with all traces of his long journey obliterated, Andrew Tallente stepped out on to the stone-flagged terrace and looked out across the little bay below.
Life at Martinhoe Manor, with a faithful but terrified manservant, bookshelves ready to afford him the phantasmal satisfaction of another man's thoughts, sea and winds, beauties of landscape and colour, to bring him to the threshold of an epicurean pleasure which needed yet that one pulsating link with humanity to yield the full meed of joy and content.
I speak to you now only as a friend and as a well-wisher. Did I understand Williams to say that the document was stolen from your study at Martinhoe?" "It was stolen," Tallente replied, "by my secretary, Anthony Palliser, who disappeared with it one night in August." "'Disappeared' seems rather a vague term," Horlock remarked. "A trifle melodramatic, I admit," Tallente assented.
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