Ten Star Clues Read Online Free Page B

Clinton blood a generation or two back, accounted for the favour with which old Earl Wych always seemed to regard the young man. But these were only whispers none dared repeat aloud, whispers without a shred of proved foundation. True, there were always those clear, rather pale-blue eyes characteristic in the Hoyle family, showing, for example, both in Anne and in Ralph, though in Ralph’s case the blue often seemed to be a grey, so that Sophy, at least, was never quite sure whether they were really blue or really grey.
    There advanced slowly the little group—the tall, commanding looking old man; the nervous young man; the handsome, youthful lawyer, looking as distinguished in his way as did the old earl himself. The group by the tea table were all on their feet now. Arthur had an air of complete bewilderment. Ralph waited, utterly expressionless. Anne gave the impression of holding herself in check, of being ready to spring at any moment, of a coiled-up spring indeed that the smallest touch might release. To Sophy’s mind the comparison between this advance of the three men with the advance of soldiers upon a firmly held position, grew still stronger. She became suddenly afraid. In a clear, loud voice, with little in it of the frequent shrillness of old age, Earl Wych said:—
    â€œThis is my grandson, Bertram, we all believed dead so long. I am sure you will welcome him. At first I failed to recognize him, but now I am convinced of his identity.”

CHAPTER II
CHIVALROUS OFFER
    There followed a bleak silence, broken only by a quick, deep-drawn breath from the claimant, the soi-disant Bertram Hoyle. It was almost as if he experienced a sudden relief, as if until then he had not been quite sure of what the old earl would say. No longer had he the appearance of being ready to run if any one said ‘Boo’ to him. Instead, and instantly, he took on an air of swaggering confidence, and, looking at the others, seemed to be asking them what they thought of that.
    What Ralph thought, it was not easy to tell. His features were utterly expressionless. The only change was that he no longer lolled against the parapet but straightened himself and stood upright. The earl was looking straight at him; and Sophy, watching, had an odd sensation that silently the old man was pleading with him, asking for sympathy and understanding, almost for help. But Ralph’s own gaze was averted, directed towards that wide expanse of countryside, of field and wood and pasture, of hedge and grove and spinney, all lying there in the quiet afternoon sunshine, all of it land over which for centuries the Hoyles had borne sway and rule.
    Arthur was still gaping, open-mouthed, open-eyed. The impression he gave was of a complete and indeed incredulous astonishment. One expected every moment to hear him burst out laughing and remark that it had been a good joke and now let’s be serious. Anne was leaning forward, her hands on the tea table, her eyes intent upon the claimant. There was questioning and doubt and anger in her gaze, and something else as well that Sophy, at least, did not understand, something of poise and calculation as at secret, unknown thoughts. Yet what Sophy remembered best in after days, when thinking over that strange scene, in the first moments at least so strangely silent, was neither the dark impassivity with which Ralph listened to his great-uncle’s declaration, nor the change in the claimant’s attitude from nervousness to swaggering assurance, nor the suggestion in Anne’s eyes of hidden, secret thoughts, nor Arthur Hoyle’s almost ludicrous surprise, nor yet that impression as of a pleading for sympathy, even for help, Earl Wych seemed to her somehow to convey, but rather the sharp intake just behind her of the lawyer’s breath, and of how when she turned for a moment to look she saw his strong white even teeth so firmly clamped upon his under lip that spots of blood showed here and