A fine lace-work of mist lay over the salt meadows; the fairy trilling
of the little owl had ceased. Marsh-fowl were sleepily astir; the last
firefly floated low into the shrouded bushes and its lamp glimmered a
moment and went out.
Where the east was growing grey long lines of wild-ducks went
stringing out to sea; a few birds sang loudly in meadows still
obscure; cattle in foggy upland pastures were awake.
When the first cock-crow rang, cow-bells had been clanking for an hour
or more; the rising sun turned land and sea to palest gold; every
hedge and thicket became noisy with birds; bay-men stepped spars and
hoisted sail, and their long sweeps dripped liquid fire as they pulled
away into the blinding glory of the east.
And Clive rose wearily from his window chair, care-worn and haggard,
with nothing determined, nothing solved of this new and imminent peril
which was already menacing Athalie with disgrace and threatening him
with that unwholesome notoriety which men usually survive but under
which a woman droops and perishes.
He bathed, dressed again, dully uneasy in the garments of yesterday,
uncomfortable for lack of fresh linen and toilet requisites; little
things indeed to add such undue weight to his depression. And only
yesterday he had laughed at inconvenience and had still found charm to
thrill him in the happy unconventionality of that day and night.
Connor was already weeding in the garden when he went out; and the
dull surprise in the Irishman's sunburnt visage sent a swift and
painful colour into his own pallid face.
"Miss Greensleeve was kind enough to put me up last night," he said
briefly.
Connor stood silent, slowly combing the soil from the claw of his
weeder with work-worn fingers.
Clive said: "Since I have been coming down here to watch the progress
on Miss Greensleeve's house have you happened to notice any strangers
hanging about the grounds?"
Connor's grey eyes narrowed and became fixed on nothing.
Presently he nodded to himself: "There was inquiries made, sorr, I'm minded now that ye mention it."
"About me?"
"Yes, sorr. There was strangers askin' f'r to know was it you that owns
the house or what."
"What was said?"
"I axed them would they chase themselves,--it being none o' their
business. 'Twas no satisfaction they had of me, Misther Bailey, sorr."
"Who were they, Connor?"
"I just disremember now. Maybe there was a big wan and a little
wan.... Yes, sorr; there was two of them hangin' about on and off
these six weeks past, like they was minded to take a job and then
again not minded. Sure there was the two o' thim, now I think of it.
Wan was big and thin and wan was a little scutt wid a big nose."