The Crystal Claw by William Le Queux

It was evening when I alighted from the train at the clean, spick-and-span little town of Bexhill, which in summer and autumn is so animated, yet in spring and winter is practically deserted.

Darkness had already fallen and a rough easterly wind caused the leafless boughs of the trees to crack and sway. A heavy gale was blowing in the Channel that night and the boiling surf swept in upon the shingle.

As I walked towards Bedford Avenue, that quiet select thoroughfare of detached red-brick houses which lies close to the sea, I noticed, on the opposite side of the way, two persons -- a man and a girl -- walking slowly in the direction which I was taking.

As they passed beneath a street-lamp, I had a good view of them. It was Thelma walking with old Doctor Feng!

I halted amazed, and instinctively drew back into the shadow of a hedge which formed the boundary of a garden. They were walking engrossed in conversation, in the direction of Mrs. Shaylor's house.

I had no idea that they were on terms of friendship, and their apparently clandestine meeting was a complete surprise to me. Feng was bending to her, talking earnestly in an undertone, while she appeared to be listening attentively.

There flashed across my memory a moment in Mürren when I had seen the Doctor and Ruthen walking together in secret up a narrow snow-piled lane, though we all believed they were strangers. What could it possibly mean?

I allowed the pair to go ahead of me, following them at a distance and watching.

I thought I heard the girl cry "No! No! " in a distressed tone. But it might have been merely my fancy.

They walked together very slowly until they reached the corner of Bedford Avenue. Here they halted, and again I drew back into the shadow. From where I stood I could see them very plainly, for a lamp shone full upon them. No other person was in the vicinity. I could plainly see old Feng's face and beard as he spoke evidently in deep earnest, while Thelma, wrapped in her smart squirrel coat and wearing the little fur toque which I had admired so much, stood listening.

Suddenly she appeared to utter some appeal. But the old man shook his head relentlessly. He had apparently told her something which had staggered her.

I watched, scarcely daring to draw breath, in a mist of uncertainty, jealousy and dread.

How long they stood there I could not say, but it seemed a long time. I was utterly amazed at the sight of Thelma keeping what was clearly a secret appointment with this old fellow who had often warned me against a dangerous friendship. Were both of them, I wondered, in some plot to delude and play with me. Was Thelma, after all, in league with her husband and his mysterious friends. Was old Feng for some sinister reason a member of the same queer coterie?

At last he took her hand and held it in his for a long time. Then he raised his hat and bade her farewell. She seemed glad to get rid of his presence, for she turned away and flew towards her mother's house at the seaward end of the silent road, while he turned on his heel and strode in the direction of the station.

Rather than go direct to Mrs. Shaylor's I followed the Doctor at a distance up the town until I saw him hurry into the station yard. Here he had unbuttoned his overcoat and glanced at his watch. Evidently a train was due.

So I turned back, and a little later I opened the garden gate, walked up the path and rang the bell. "Jock," Mrs. Shaylor's Airedale barked loudly, and in a few moments the neat maid opened the door.

In the artistic little hall Thelma, who had divested herself of coat and hat, came forward exclaiming gladly --

"Well, Mr. Yelverton! Whoever expected to see you tonight? Come in. Mother is out at a friend's playing bridge, I think, and I am all alone."

She helped me off with my coat, took my hat, and ushered me into the charming drawing-room overlooking the sea.

She switched on more lights and handed me her cigarette case, then threw herself into a big chair before the fire opposite me.