Almost the elder man had been betrayed into a confidence. Guy, realising this, again felt a thrill of distaste for the task he had in hand. Then he wondered if the thoughts from which the King's messenger desired to escape were in any way connected with the events which were responsible for the Commandatore's hatred. After all, this man was the enemy of his, Guy Hora's father. The enemy through whose actions Lynton Hora had found himself in conflict with the world. Guy hardened his heart. Most possibly the genial mask of friendship which Captain Marven wore was the ordinary disguise of hypocrisy. Guile should be met with guile.
It was with a manner as frank and a smile as confiding as his own that Marven found his questions responded to.
Indeed, he was genuinely interested in the young man. He had already discovered at their first meeting that he was of an intelligence beyond the ordinary. He had observed that Guy had been strongly attracted by the niece whom his wife was chaperoning for her first London season, and he thought that it would be well if he could know more of her admirer. But, beyond all that, Captain Marven had observed what Guy's younger eyes had missed. He saw in the younger man something which reminded him of himself in his own youthful days. A likeness of feature, of carriage, of manner. The belief that one day the son, his only child, would be restored to him had been an abiding one. It had been partly responsible for his adoption of his present profession. Somewhere his son was growing into manhood. Any day he might meet him.
He made the most of his wide knowledge of the world to secure the young man's confidence, and flattered himself that he had succeeded. He was quite unaware that Guy, though wondering at his curiosity, was responding to his advances in furtherance of his own objects. Guy talked freely of his boyhood. He spoke with filial affection of his father, and of the mother he could just remember, and, as he revealed the particulars of his parentage, Captain Marven's half-formed hopes withered, and he told himself that his expectancy had given to the young man a family likeness which had no existence outside his own imagination. So the train rushed on through the night, bearing father and son, sitting face to face, yet unrevealed, and while the son plotted to rob his father of the despatches which honour bade him guard with his life, the father looked at him again and again, saddened with the thought of another hope shattered.
The train sped on, stopping now and again to pick up the mails. Conversation languished. Guy had decided on his course of action. He determined to try a plan which if unsuccessful, would leave him time for a second attempt, a plan, the feasibility of which, he had frequently discussed with his mentor, Lynton Hora.
He surprised Captain Marven in a yawn. "Getting sleepy?" he asked.
Marven smiled. "I don't sleep to-night until my journey is ended."
"What martyrdom to duty," scoffed Guy. "I am almost inclined to save you from yourself."
Marven looked at him questioningly.
"By demonstrating the power of hypnotism," explained Guy briefly.