E-text prepared by MRK
by
1921
Andrew Tallente stepped out of the quaint little train on to theflower-bedecked platform of this Devonshire hamlet amongst the hills, toreceive a surprise so immeasurable that for a moment he could do nothingbut gaze silently at the tall, ungainly figure whose unpleasant smilebetrayed the fact that this meeting was not altogether accidental so faras he was concerned.
"Miller!" he exclaimed, a little aimlessly.
"Why not?" was the almost challenging reply. "You are not the onlygreat statesman who needs to step off the treadmill now and then."
There was a certain quiet contempt in Tallente's uplifted eyebrows. Thecontrast between the two men, momentarily isolated on the littleplatform, was striking and extreme. Tallente had the bearing, the voiceand the manner which were his by heritage, education and naturalculture. Miller, who was the son of a postman in a small Scotch town,an exhibitioner so far as regards his education, and a mimic wheresocial gifts were concerned, had all the aggressive bumptiousness of thesuccessful man who has wit enough to perceive his shortcomings. In hisill-chosen tourist clothes, untidy collar and badly arranged tie, hepresented a contrast to his companion of which he seemed, in a way,bitterly conscious.
"You are staying near here?" Tallente enquired civilly.
"Over near Lynton. Dartrey has a cottage there. I came downyesterday."
"Surely you were in Hellesfield the day before yesterday?"
Miller smiled ill-naturedly.
"I was," he admitted, "and I flatter myself that I was able to make thespeech which settled your chances in that direction."
Tallente permitted a slight note of scorn to creep into his tone.
"It was not your eloquence," he said, "or your arguments, which broughtfailure upon me. It was partly your lies and partly your tactics."
An unwholesome flush rose in the other's face.
"Lies?" he repeated, a little truculently.
Tallente looked him up and down. The station master was approachingnow, the whistle had blown, their conversation was at an end.
"I said lies," Tallente observed, "most advisedly." The train wasalready on the move, and the departing passenger was compelled to stephurriedly into a carriage. Tallente, waited upon by the obsequiousstation master, strolled across the line to where his car was waiting.It was not until his arrival there that he realised that Miller hadoffered him no explanation as to his presence on the platform of thistiny wayside station.
"Did you notice the person with whom I was talking?" he asked thestation master.
"A tall, thin gentleman in knickerbockers? Yes, sir," the man replied.
"Part of your description is correct," Tallente remarked drily. "Do youknow what he was doing here?"
"Been down to your house, I believe, sir. He arrived by the early trainthis morning and asked the way to the Manor."
"To my house?" Tallente repeated incredulously.
"It was the Manor he asked for, sir," the station master assured hisquestioner. "Begging your pardon, sir, is it true that he was Miller,the Socialist M.P.?"
"True enough," was the brief reply. "What of it?"
The man coughed as he deposited the dispatc