The Aerodrome: A Love Story Read Online Free PDF

Rector began to speak again, more slowly and in a low voice. "Even tonight," he was saying, "O God, my God, when I was speaking to that boy, even then I was unable to tell the truth. The reasons for my silence, Lord, were weighty, thou knowest; but in thy sight is not truth the weightiest thing? Might I not have told him?" He paused, bowed his head, and then raised it as though about to speak again. My heart was beating quickly as I strained after the words that were never spoken. For, just as he had opened his mouth to speak, I saw his wife slip from the alcove where she had been hidden, steal quickly across the room and take her stand by the door close to the Rector's elbow. She stood there motionless, with her hand on the doorknob, so self-possessed in her manner that even I might have imagined that she had that instant entered the room from the corridor outside. The Rector turned to her with a start, and I saw him looking sternly at her. She spoke first and said: "I am so sorry for disturbing you, but won't you come to bed now, dear?" He remained kneeling, looking at her as though he had awakened from a dream. She carried on her face that calm and contented smile which I knew so well, and so they gazed at each other for some seconds, until there was heard the sound of stumbling feet and voices from outside the study windows. It seemed, to judge from the noise, that several men were gathering into a group. Feet stamped; there were whispers, gruff ejaculations, and then silence. We in the room still listened and suddenly a peal of hand bells sounded shrill and cold and loud at such a short distance. The Rector's wife turned to her husband. "It is the bellringers," she said, "who are doing this in honour of Roy's birthday. Someone told me that we might expect them." She still smiled as the Rector rose unsteadily to his feet. "Go and see if he is in his room," she said and, opening the door, she laid her hand on his shoulder as he went through it. Then she crossed the room to the curtain which concealed me. She smiled at me, with one hand patting my cheek, and said: "When he returns I'll tell him that you have just come in through the kitchen window." The bells pealed out, often discordantly, and I guessed that the ringers must be mostly drunk. The Rector came back into the room. His face was slightly paler than usual, but his expression quite different from that which I had recently observed. Without waiting for any explanation he clapped me on the shoulder and said: "Well, Roy, so you're back at last. Now just listen to those bells." We listened, and I have seldom heard our village players give a worse performance. Soon we drew back the curtains and opened the windows. A final jangling, and the bells were still. Outside I saw the big figure of George Birkett, the chief ringer. Behind him were the others, among them were Fred and Mac, red-faced and grinning, both swaying slowly on their feet. They and some of the others guffawed apologetically, while George touched his cap and said: "Long life to Mr Roy, Your Reverence! And to you, too, and to your lady, Sir." We asked them into the hall and gave them beer and sandwiches. There was much laughter, I remember, and both the Rector and his wife played their parts well. Finally Mac had to leave the room hurriedly, and the others began to follow him. We all shook hands, and when they had gone the Rector's wife kissed me on the cheek, and then took her husband's arm. "Quickly to bed everyone now," she said. "Remember that tomorrow we have the Agricultural Show."
    CHAPTER III
    The Agricultural Show
    IT WAS, oddly enough, the expressions I had seen on the face of the Rector's wife, her resource and self-confidence, that I thought of most when I had retired to bed, and during wakeful intervals of the night, and when I woke up in the morning. The fact that my guardian was a murderer neither shocked me much, nor, when I came to think of it, greatly surprised me. The crime had been done