Island in the Dawn Page 2

  While he listened, the slender man in dark glasses kept his hand on the dog’s head. The animal was not the type to be particularly friendly, as Felicity could tell from the way in which its eyes watched her, a hint of malevolence and strong suspicion in the fierce golden gaze. Its master was unable to see who was confronting him, but the dog could see anyone and anything that approached, and as its master’s eyes it was prepared to follow its instincts. And its instincts were to trust no one.

  Felicity made the mistake of putting out a hand to touch its massive head, and instantly the dog growled low in its throat. The man who appeared to have usurped the position of James Ferguson Menzies said at once: “Please don’t attempt to touch Bruno! He is not accustomed to strangers.”

  “I’m sorry,” Felicity said quickly, on a note of rather breathless apology, and the blind man seemed to consider carefully.

  “You say that you’ve just come off the steamer? That’s the one that touches here about once a fortnight, and unless you made special arrangements you were lucky to get a passage last night. Menzies Island is generally considered quite off the map, and for that reason we see few people.”

  He said ‘see’, although Felicity knew he could not see her—at least she strongly suspected it—and in a fascinated way she gazed at him. The man kept his beautifully formed hand on the dog, and his sleek dark head was inclined a little towards the animal. The faintly stooping attitude made him seem shorter than she afterwards discovered him to be, but she was never mistaken about the slenderness of his build, which was the first thing about him that had really struck her. It was a graceful slenderness, and in spite of his disability his movements were never clumsy. He had a tendency to grope a little, as if he had not yet become accustomed to finding his way by depending solely on his sense of touch, and was therefore hesitant and unsure. But behind the hesitancy there was a pantherish manner that was rather like a coiled spring, as if under normal circumstances there was just a touch of the showman in his everyday attitude to life. And his voice was crisp and alert, although never raised above a certain minor key.

  “You say that you have left your friend on the jetty, and that she has come to visit her uncle? Well, I’m sorry, but her uncle let me this place some time ago—it must be nearly two years ago now—and I have no real idea where he is at the moment But of course you must come in and rest, and Michael, you must go down to the jetty and see about the ladies’ luggage. Bring it all here, and if there is a lot of it get Moses to help you.”

  “But we can’t possibly trouble you like this—” Felicity was beginning, when he cut her short by lifting his hand.

  “Nonsense,” he said, with a kind of polite indifference. “Where else will you go if you don’t come here? There is no hotel on the island, the steamer will not call for another fortnight, and this is a very big house with plenty of rooms. You and your friend must certainly come here for the time being.”

  Felicity thought she had better explain.

  “Miss Wood is my employer.”

  “Then you and your employer must remain here for the time being,” he told her, in the same slightly monotonous voice. He stood aside, his restraining hand on the dog, so that she could pass into the cool room behind him, and when she had done so her admiration was aroused by the simplicity and beauty of the furnishings.

  It was a beautifully proportioned room, gleaming with highly polished furniture, and redolent of perfume. Scent stole out from the numerous bowls and vases that were filled with flowers; silver bowls, an enormous copper bowl, a great Satsuma vase. There were roses on what looked like an ancient refectory table; the rich patina of its surface spoke a tribute to the loving hands that had labored over it during the centuries. A carved ivory screen in a corner looked like a film of white lace, and a treasure-chest encrusted with mother-of-pearl was plainly a treasure in itself. There was a grandfather dock—a lovely thing in a rosewood case—ticking solemnly in another corner, and the mgs that lay on the solid block floor were the kind that men haggled for in remote eastern bazaars where their owners parted with them regretfully.

  Felicity was certain she had never before seen so many cherished objects collected together under one roof. A gallery ran Ugh up against the walls, and a staircase flowed downwards from the gallery—‘flowed’ was the appropriate word, for in itself it was a thing of beauty, the shining treads uncurling like a fan. Plainly the room was a kind of lounge-hall-cum-sitting-room, and a delightful foretaste of what the rest of the house must hold.

  Michael, before he departed for the jetty, received an order to bring refreshments, and although Felicity protested that this was not necessary, the man in the dark-glasses ignored her protest. The thought of Cassandra impatiently waiting on the jetty made the glass of ice-cooled lime Felicity was given seem like a reward she hadn’t earned. Her host indicated a chair that the Irishman had drawn forward for her, and she wondered how he knew that she was not seated, when that queer groping manner of his betrayed how sightless were the eyes behind the glasses.

  “Your Miss Wood cannot possibly be here for another ten minutes,” he said coolly, while the dog watched her with uncanny intentness, “and you can’t help her by remaining standing. If she wished to escape the glare she should have come with you through the plantation.”

  “She thought it best to remain with the luggage,” Felicity explained, and the curve of his lips struck her as a little odd.

  “The luggage would have been quite safe,” he said. “There are no thieves on the island,”

  Felicity instantly flushed, in a way that made her look infinitely attractive—although of course he couldn’t see that.

  “I think she was a little exhausted ... This heat is rather sudden for us, and she couldn’t remember quite how far it was to the house.”

  “So you decided to be the pioneer and look for it? And James Menzies! Well, unhappily for Miss Wood he is probably at the opposite end of the world at this precise moment—when he left here he was planning a leisurely and extended tour of the globe—and if she’s been looking forward to meeting him it will be a bit of a disappointment. But she can’t have been in very close touch with him for some time.”

  “Not very close touch,” Felicity had to admit “But she—she planned to give him a surprise!”

  “Not always a wise thing to do,” the man returned on a note of dryness, “not even when you’re certain the person you plan to surprise is where you expect to find him—or her, as the case may be!”

  Felicity was silent, sipping her drink, and it struck her that the dryness in his voice was particularly noticeable when he uttered those last words.

  She felt nervous because he was standing quite near to her, and he seemed to be studying her through the dark glasses. He was elegantly dressed, in an immaculate light grey suit, and Felicity noticed how his linen emphasized the attractive bronze of his skin. He might be without the use of his eyes, but he looked very fit; once again she was reminded of the coiled spring.

  “Please help yourself to the lime juice,” he said. “The jug is at your elbow.”

  “‘Thank you.” Once again she glanced at him, wondering how he knew that. “Can’t I—can’t I pour you some?”

  “No, thank you. When your friend—I beg your pardon, your employer—gets here with Michael, we’ll have breakfast. I don’t suppose you breakfasted on the steamer, did you? They’re not very civilized vessels, and in any case it was a little early for that.”

  Felicity found herself agreeing with him once again.

  “I can hardly believe that not very many hours ago I was in London! All this is a great change for me.”

  “You flew out?”

  “As far as we could—yes.”

  “And now that you’re here, how do you like it? How does Menzies Island strike you?”

  “Oh, I think it’s indescribably beautiful! So beautiful that I can’t take it in—not yet!”

  “As impressive as all that?”

  Yet a
gain the dryness in his voice seemed unnatural, until all at once she realized that he had probably never seen the beauty that was out there under the blazing run, and a fresh sensation of horror smote her, a feeling almost of guilt.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m so sorry!”

  He moved to a chair that was a little far away, and hastily she left her own chair to help him. In her impulsiveness she caught his arm, and the dog growled.

  “Quiet, Bruno!” said the dark man, with a whimsical expression on his face which Felicity in her anxiety didn’t see, and as he dropped into the chair he thanked her courteously, and at the same time removed his glasses. A pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen in her life regarded her with that same whimsicality, and some faultless white teeth flashed as he smiled at her.

  “I am not blind, Miss—?”

  “Harding,” she supplied, almost abjectly.

  “I am no longer blind, I should say,” he corrected himself—“no longer entirely blind, that is! A year ago, when I came here, I had little hope of recovering my sight, but I have been undergoing treatment during recent months, and the sight is returning! I can see you quite clearly—I could even see you out there in the glare of the sun, when you first appeared, but my dark glasses must have misled you. I’m afraid you thought I was quite blind, and that Bruno was my guide-dog—that is what he was, as a matter of fact, while I needed him to guide me.”

  Felicity felt as if the rush of color to her cheeks was actually burning her skin, although at the same time she was conscious of an extraordinary rush of relief because this slender dark man could see. The horror that had enveloped her when she was certain he was quite blind, was something that she was to puzzle over for weeks afterwards.

  “Come here, Bruno,” the man said, extending an inviting hand to the dog. “Come and be introduced to Miss Harding, and in future I shall not expect you to growl at her—ever, do you understand?”

  His voice was quiet but incisive, and the handsome Alsatian stood absolutely still for a moment, and then moved to a position midway between the two humans.

  “First I will introduce myself,” the slim man said. “I am Paul Halloran.” He stood up and restored his glasses, so that the amazing blue eyes were no longer looking directly at her, which was in some curious way a relief. “And this is Bruno, who has served me faithfully for two years! Bruno,” he commanded, “put up your paw, and let Miss Harding shake it!”

  Felicity had never had any fear of animals, and she had already forgotten that Bruno had growled at her more than once. Without hesitation she extended her own hand and grasped the guide-dog’s paw.

  Paul Halloran nodded in a satisfied way.

  “Now you can consider yourselves acquainted!”

  There was the sound of footsteps outside on the veranda—the quick tap of very high heels. Cassandra swept through the open french windows and looked very pettishly at Felicity. It was quite plain that her wait on the jetty had not improved her temper. Although she had never looked more beautiful, with her red hair flaming under her straw hat, and the thickly pleated skirt of her white silk suit swinging with every graceful movement she made—even in a state of vexation she was as graceful as a willow-wand—she also looked as if it wanted little more for her patience to disintegrate.

  “What’s this I hear about Uncle James?” she demanded, when she caught sight of the man who was once more standing with his hand resting on the neck of the big Alsatian. His dark-glasses, and perhaps more than anything his motionless attitude—instantly impressed upon her the fact that this was a man who could not see.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, as if she was actually engulfed by horror. She even retreated a little. “Your servant didn’t warn me, but he should have done so! You’re blind, aren't you? Oh, you must forgive me, but I’ve always been terrified of blind people!”

  And she looked as if she was about to flee from the room.

  Felicity stood up instantly.

  “Cassandra!” she protested.

  Cassandra looked as if this was the last straw.

  “This heat is impossible,” she gasped, “and Uncle James isn’t here, and I don’t know that I want to stay! ... Felicity, we’ll have to get back to the mainland somehow! You’ll have to do something..

  Paul Halloran removed his glasses and stepped forward.

  “There is no need for Miss Harding to act instantly,” he remarked, with so much dryness in his voice now that it actually grated a little. “I’m not blind, Miss Wood, although as the result of an accident I was deprived of my sight for many months. The habit of wearing these glasses clings ... but you need not allow it to frighten you away!”

  Cassandra stood staring at him as if hypnotized. His eyes were like blue water—the bluest water she had ever seen in her life—and she had the queer feeling that it reached out and engulfed her, so that she was swimming about in it helplessly. All at once she knew that he no longer terrified her—that far from terrifying her, he fascinated her!

  He was the handsomest man she had ever seen in her life. There was a slight scar above his right eyebrow, but otherwise his face was unmarked and the features were curiously perfect. His eyelashes were thick and black, lending a queer intensity to the jewel-like eyes, and his hair was blue-black. In the dimness of the room it shone. By contrast his skin was a clear, pale bronze. His slim hand rested gracefully on the dog’s neck.

  “I’ve seen you before!” she exclaimed suddenly. She didn’t beg his pardon for what she had said—she wanted him to tell her where she had seen him before. There had been a lot of people all collected together. He was in an evening dress suit, and all the women in the audience were spell bound by his looks, and by those slim, graceful movements of his hands. One hand upheld a baton ... There was a great deal of applause ... “I know!” Her voice was triumphant. “You’re Paul Halloran, aren’t you? The conductor who vanished...? Your mother was an Italian opera singer, and your father was Irish—an Irish landowner, I think! Your last concert was in Milan, and I saw you before that in London! ... The place was packed, and you were as big a success as if you were a film star! No, you had a much more wonderful reception than a film star! And after that you flew to Milan, and then something happened...”

  “A car crash on the way to Rome!” He bowed to her ironically. “I am flattered that you should be able to recall so much about me! I had thought my past was dead and buried!”

  “Of course not—and it’s only a year ago, anyway! You can’t expect to be forgotten in so short a time!” All at once the color was flooding her cheeks, drawing attention to the perfection of the skin, and she was smiling at him brilliantly. “Everyone said it was the Irish-Italian mixture that made you such a success—Irish charm plus Italian musical genius! Obviously you inherited the latter from your mother!”

  “Obviously.” But his voice was cool as withered leaves. “But nowadays music doesn’t have very much part in my life.”

  “You mean because you lost your sight?”

  “That—and there is another reason. But I’m sure you would like to be shown to a room that will be yours for so long as you care to remain here—after all, the house is your uncle’s, and I’m sure he would wish me to act host in his place!—and as soon as you are ready for it breakfast will be served to you either in your room, or on the veranda here, where it will be very pleasant in another half hour or so, when the sun leaves it.”

  “And you are quite sure our arrival isn’t terribly inconvenient?”

  “Quite sure.”

  But, as Felicity reflected, standing there and feeling as if her whole body was one large blush of embarrassment because Cassandra had not merely said something inexcusable the instant she entered the room, but followed it up with a blithe impertinence that had actually taken Felicity’s breath away a little, he was not the sort of man to admit to inconvenience under the circumstances. There was no hotel on the island, no other house where they could stay, and no boat for a fortnight.
Even if he was appalled at the prospect of having to entertain them, unlike Cassandra, he would never let them guess.

  Felicity had never before realized that Cassandra could be so crude.

  "I’m terrified of blind people!...

  It was inexcusable, and yet now she was not merely turning on the charm ... She looked as if she was preparing to enjoy her stay!

  Across the dimness of the lovely room Felicity met their host’s vivid blue eyes, and the expression in them was quite unreadable. His glance was fixed on her, on her small, abashed face. She thought there was an element of humor in it, and something that attempted to reassure her a little. Cassandra’s words had not hurt him ... Perhaps he was not easily hurt! Perhaps he had been hurt too much in the past, and now he was immune!

  Yet he admitted recovering his sight ... Surely he had everything to look forward to? Within a short while Life, with a capital L, could, and would, open out before him again!

  Michael returned with the luggage, and they were shown up to two rooms adjoining one another where it would be pleasant to settle themselves in for a fortnight. Cassandra looked round her with approval, commenting on the fact that the rooms were far more luxuriously furnished than in Uncle James’s day.

  “Our musician may not do much entertaining,” she said, “but he is prepared for it! He has obviously spent a lot of money on this place. I wonder why?”