June 9, 2025 • 17 mins
Step into the thrilling narrative of Hugh Walpoles Prelude to Adventure. The story unfolds around Olva Dune, a Cambridge undergraduate who commits a murder and in that moment, senses the divine presence. The novel masterfully encapsulates the essence of Francis Thompsons poem, The Hound of Heaven - a tale of a soul in dread, relentlessly pursued by Gods love. Its highly recommended to enrich your experience by familiarizing yourself with the poem prior to diving into the novel. The story intrigued Carl Jung so much that he praised it as a psychological masterpiece in a letter to Walpole. Hergesheimer likened the suspense and plot to that of a Poe masterpiece, yet grounded in the relatable human experience. The narrative is a riveting blend of suspense, love, fear, triumph, all set against the backdrop of the captivating Cornish sea.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of the Prelude to Adventure by Hugh Walpole.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, Chapter ten
craven one. That evening Ova was elected president of the Wolves.
It was a ceremony conducted with closed doors and a
much drinking of wine by a committee of four and
(00:22):
the last reigning president, who had the casting vote. The
college waited in suspense, and at eleven o'clock it was
understood that doone had been elected. According to custom. On
the day following in hall Olva would be cheered by
the assembled undergraduates, while the gods on the dais smiled
(00:43):
gently and murmured that boys will be boys. Meanwhile, the
question that agitated the saw line world was the way
that Cardiac would take it if it had been any
one else but Doon. But it couldn't have been any
one else, as no other possible rival, and cards like
the rest of the world, bowed to Doone's charm. The
(01:06):
Dublin match, to be played now in a fortnight's time,
would settle the football question. It was generally expected that
they would try Doune in that match and judge him finally.
Then on his play. There was a good deal of
betting on the matter, and those who remembered his earlier
games said that nothing could ever make Doon a reliable player,
(01:29):
and that it was a reliable player that was wanted.
When Olva came into hall that evening, he was conscious
of two pairs of eyes, Cravens and Bunning's, on either
side of the high vaulted hall. The tables were arranged,
and men shouting waving their glasses lined the benches. Olva's
place was at the end, farthest from the door and
(01:52):
nearest the high table, and he had therefore the whole
room to cross. He was smiling a little of faint
color in his cheeks. At his own end of the table,
Craven was standing silent, with his eyes gravely fixed upon
OVA's face. Half Way down the hall there was Bunning,
and Ova could see as he passed up the room
(02:14):
that the man was trembling and was pressing his hands
down upon the table to hold his body still. When
Ova had sat down and the cheering had passed again
into the cheerful arm that was customary, the first voice
that greeted him was Cardiac's congratulations, old man, I'm delighted.
There was no question of Cardiac's sincerity. Craven was sitting
(02:37):
four places lower down. He had turned the other way
and was talking eagerly to some man on his farther's side.
But the eyes that had met OVA's two minutes before
had been hostile. Cardiac went on come in to coffee afterwards,
Dane several men are coming in. Olva thanked him and
said that he would. The world was waiting to see
(02:58):
how Cards would take it, and beyond question, Cards was
taking it very well. Indeed, an observer might have noticed
that Cards was too absorbed by the way that doone
was taking it to take it himself consciously at all
Ovah's aloof surveying of the world about him, as a
man on a hill surveys the town in the valley
(03:21):
made of cards. Last year and a half a gaudy
and noisy thing. He had thought that his attitude had
been nicely adjusted. But now he saw that there were
still heights to be reached. Perhaps in this welcome that
he was giving to doone success he might attain his position.
Not in any way a bad fellow, this Cardiac, but
(03:41):
obsessed by a self conscious conviction that the world was
looking at him. The world never looks for more than
an instant at self consciousness, but it dearly loves self forgetfulness,
for that implies a compliment to itself. Afterwards, in Cardiac's
handsome and over careful rooms, there was an attempt at depth.
(04:03):
The set Lawrence, Gallian Craven and five or six more
never thought about life unless drink drove them to do so,
And drink drove them tonight. A long, thin man, Williamson
by name, with a half blue for rackets and a
pensive manner, had a favorite formula on these occasions. But
(04:23):
think of a rabbit now only conveying by the remark
that here was a proof of God's supreme, astounding carelessness.
You shoot it, you know, without turning a hair, no joke,
you rodder, And it breeds millions a week? And does
it think about it? That's what I want to know.
Where's its soul? Hasn't got it all? Well? What is
(04:45):
the soul? Anyway? There you are the things properly started.
And the more the set drinks, the vaguer it gets,
until finally it goes happily to bed and wakes with
a headache and a healthy opinion. That and that sort
of stuff is wrought in the morning. That is precisely
as far as intellect ever ventured in souls. There may
(05:07):
have been quaint, obscure fellows who sported their oaks every
night and talked cleverly on ginger beer, but they were
not admitted as part of the scheme of things. So
lines to quote Lawrence are not clever. They were not
especially clever tonight, thought Ova, as he sat in the shadow,
away from the light of the fire, and watched them
(05:29):
sitting back in enormous arm chairs with their legs stretched out,
blowing wreaths of smoke into the air, drinking whiskies and sodas. No,
not clever. Craven, the shadows blacker than ever under his eyes,
was on the opposite side of the room from Ova.
He sat with his head down and was silent. Think
(05:52):
of a rabbit, now, said Williamson. I suppose, said Galion,
who was not gifted, that they're happy enough, yes, but
what do they make of it all? At this moment,
Craven suddenly burst in with where's Carfax? This question was
felt by everyone to be tactless elaborately, with great care
(06:13):
and some considerable effort, Carfax had been forgotten, forgotten, it
seemed by everyone save Craven. He had been forgotten because
his death did not belong to the Cambridge order of things,
because it raised unpleasant ideas and made one morbid and neurotic.
It had, in fact nothing in common with cold baths, marmalade,
(06:35):
rugby football, and musical comedy. On the present occasion, the
remark was especially unpleasant because Craven had made it in
so odd a manner. During the last few weeks, it
had been very generally noticed that Craven had not been himself,
so pleasant and healthy a fellow he had always been,
(06:55):
but now this Carfax business was too much for him.
Look Out for Uncle had been the general warning implied,
if not expressed. Persons who threatened to be unusual were
always marked down in Cambridge, and now Craven had been unusual.
Where's Carfax? What a dreadful thing to say? And how tactless?
(07:18):
The note. Moreover, in Craven's voice, sounded a danger. There
was something in the air, as though the fellow might
at any moment burst into tears, fire a pistol into
the air, or jump out of the window. So unpleasant
and Carfax was much more real even now than an
abstract rabbit. Dear boy said cardiac easily. Carfax is dead.
(07:43):
We all miss him. It was a beastly horrible affair.
But there's no point in dwelling on things one only
gets morbid, and morbidity isn't what we're here for. It's
all very well, Craven was angrily muttering. But it's scandalous
the way you forget a man here. He was amongst
the whole lot of you, only a month or so ago,
(08:04):
and he was a friend of every one's. And then
some brute kills him. He's done for, and you don't
care a damn. It's beastly. It makes one sick. Where
do you think he is, craven Ova asked quietly from
his shadowy corner. Craven flung up his head. Perhaps you
can tell us, he cried. There was such hostility in
(08:26):
his voice that the whole room was startled. Poor Craven,
he really was very unwell. The sight of his tired
eyes and white cheeks, the shadow of his hand quivering
on his knee, here were signs that all was not
as it should be gone. Now at any rate, any
possibility of a comfortable evening. Craven said no more, but
(08:49):
still sat there with his head hanging. His only movement
the shaking of his hand. Gardiac tried to bring ease
back again. Williamson once more started his rabbits, but now
there was danger in that direction. Conversation fell heavily, helplessly
to the ground. Some man got up to go, and
(09:10):
some one else followed him. It was the wrong moment
for departure, for they had drunk enough to make it
desirable to drink more. But to escape from that white
face of Craven's was the thing out into the air.
At last, Craven himself got up. I must be off,
he said, heavily. So must i, Ova said, coming forward
(09:30):
from his corner. Craven flung him a frightened glance, and
then passed, stumbling out of the door. Ova caught him
up at the bottom of the dark stairs. He put
a hand on Craven's trembling arm and held him there.
I want to talk to you, Craven. Come up to
my room. Craven tried to wrench his arm away. No,
I'm tired. I want to go to bed. You haven't
(09:53):
been near me for weeks. Why, oh nothing, Let me go.
I'll come up another time. No, I must talk to you. Now. Come.
OVA's voice was stern, his face white and hard. No,
I won't you must, I won't keep you long. I
have something to tell you. Craven suddenly ceased to struggle.
(10:15):
He gazed straight into OVA's eyes, and the look that
he gave him was the strangest thing, something of terror,
something of anger, a great wonder, and even strangest of all,
a struggling affection. I'll come, he said. In Olva's room,
he stood a disturbed figure, facing the imperturbability of the
(10:37):
other man, with restless eyes and hands that moved up
and down against his goat. Ova commanded the situation with
stern eyes. He seemed to be the accuser. Sit down,
phil a pipe. No, I won't sit. What do you want?
Please sit? It's so much easier for us both to talk.
I can't say the things that I want to when
(10:57):
you're standing over me. Please sit down. Craven sat down.
Ova faced him. Now, look here, Craven, A little time
ago you came and wished that we should see a
good deal of one another. You came in here often,
and you took me to see your people. You were charming.
I was delighted to be with you. Ova paused, Craven
(11:19):
said nothing. Then suddenly, for no reason that I can understand,
this changed. Do you remember that afternoon when you had
tea with me here and I went to sleep. It
was after that you were never the same after that,
and it has been growing worse. Now you avoid me altogether.
You don't speak to me if you can help it.
(11:40):
I'm not a man of many friends, and I don't
wish to lose one without knowing first what it is
that I have done. Will you tell me what it is?
Craven made no answer. His eyes passed restlessly up and
down the room, as though searching for some way of escape.
He made little choking sounds in his throat. When Ova
had had no answer to his question, he went gravely on,
(12:03):
But it isn't only your attitude to me that matters,
although I do want you to explain that, but I
want you also to tell me what the damage is.
You're most awfully unwell. You're an utterly different man, changed
entirely during the last week or two, and we've all
noticed it. But it doesn't only worry us here it
(12:24):
worries your mother and sister too. You've no right to
keep it to yourself. There is nothing the matter, of
course there is. A man doesn't alter in a day
for nothing. And I dated all from that evening when
you had tea with me. And I can't help feeling
that it's something that I can clear up, if it
is anything that I can do, if I can clear
(12:46):
your bother up in any way, you have only to
tell me, And he added slowly, I think at least
that you owe me an explanation of your own personal
avoidance of me. No man has any right to drop
a friend without giving his reasons. You know that, Craven.
Craven suddenly raised his weary eyes. I never was a
(13:07):
friend of yours. We were acquaintances, that's all. You made
me a friend of your mother and sister. I'd demand
an explanation, Craven, there is no explanation. I'm not well
out of condition. Why why is a fellow ever out
of condition? I've been working too hard, I suppose. But
(13:27):
you said you've got something to tell me. What have
you got to tell me? Tell me first? What is
troubling you? No, you refuse, absolutely, Then I have nothing
to tell you. Then you brought me in here on
a lie. I should never have come if yes, if
I hadn't thought you had something to tell me, What
(13:48):
should I have to tell you? I don't know nothing.
There was a pause, and then with a sudden, surprising force,
Craven almost appealed Doom. You can help me. You can
make a great difference. I am ill, It's quite true.
I'm not myself a bit, and I'm tortured by imaginations,
(14:08):
awful things. I suppose Carfax has got on my nerves,
and I've had absurd fancies. You can help me if
you'll just answer me one question, only one. I don't
want to know anything else. I'll never ask you anything else.
Only this. Where were you on the afternoon that Carfax
was murdered? He brought it out at last, his hands
(14:30):
gripping the sides of his chair, all the agonized uncertainty
of the last few weeks in his voice. Ova faced him,
standing above him and looking down upon him. My dear Craven,
what an odd question. Why do you want to know? Well?
Finding your match box like that there in Sannet Wood,
(14:50):
and I know you must have lost it just about then,
because I remember your looking for it here. I thought
perhaps you might have seen somebody had some kind of suspicion. Well,
I was, as a matter of fact, there that very afternoon.
I walked through the wood with Bunker rather late. I
met no one during the whole of the time. No one,
(15:13):
no one. You have no suspicion, no suspicion. The boy
relapsed from his eagerness into his heavy, dreary indifference. His
lips were working. Ova seemed to catch the words why
should it be? I? Why should it be I? Ova
came over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
(15:34):
Look here, old man, I don't know what's the matter
with you, but it's plain enough that you've got this
Carfax business on your nerves. Drop it. It does no good.
It's the worst thing in the world to brood about.
Carfax is dead. If I could help you to find
his murderer, I would, But I can't. Craven's whole body
was trembling under Olva's hand. Ova moved back to his chair. Craven,
(15:59):
listen to me. You must listen to me. Then, speaking
very slowly, he brought out I have a right to
speak to you, A great right I wish to marry
your sister, Craven started up from his chair. No, no,
he cried, you never, so long as I can prevent it.
(16:20):
You have no right to say that, Ulva answered him sternly,
until you have given me your reasons. I don't know
that she cares a pen about me. I don't suppose
that she does, but she will. I'm going to do
my very best to marry her. Craven broke away to
the middle of the room. His body was shaking with passion,
and he flung out his hand as though to ward
(16:43):
off Ova from him. You marry my sister, My God,
I will prevent it. I will tell her. He caught
himself up suddenly. What will you tell her? Then? Craven collapsed.
He stood there, rocking on his feet, his hands covering
his face. Oh it's all too awful, he moaned. It's
(17:05):
all too awful. For a wonderful moment, Ova felt that
he was about to tell Craven everything. A flood of
words rose to his lips. He seemed for an instant
to be rising with a great joyous freedom, as did
Christian when he had dropped his burden to a new honesty.
A high deliverance, and then he remembered Margaret Craven. You
(17:28):
take my advice, Craven, and get you nurse straight. You're
in a shocking condition. Craven went to the door and
turned You can tell nothing nothing. I will never rest
until I know who murdered Carfax. He closed the door
behind him and was gone. End of chapter ten.
Chapter ten of the Prelude to Adventure by Hugh Walpole.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, Chapter ten
craven one. That evening Ova was elected president of the Wolves.
It was a ceremony conducted with closed doors and a
much drinking of wine by a committee of four and
(00:22):
the last reigning president, who had the casting vote. The
college waited in suspense, and at eleven o'clock it was
understood that doone had been elected. According to custom. On
the day following in hall Olva would be cheered by
the assembled undergraduates, while the gods on the dais smiled
(00:43):
gently and murmured that boys will be boys. Meanwhile, the
question that agitated the saw line world was the way
that Cardiac would take it if it had been any
one else but Doon. But it couldn't have been any
one else, as no other possible rival, and cards like
the rest of the world, bowed to Doone's charm. The
(01:06):
Dublin match, to be played now in a fortnight's time,
would settle the football question. It was generally expected that
they would try Doune in that match and judge him finally.
Then on his play. There was a good deal of
betting on the matter, and those who remembered his earlier
games said that nothing could ever make Doon a reliable player,
(01:29):
and that it was a reliable player that was wanted.
When Olva came into hall that evening, he was conscious
of two pairs of eyes, Cravens and Bunning's, on either
side of the high vaulted hall. The tables were arranged,
and men shouting waving their glasses lined the benches. Olva's
place was at the end, farthest from the door and
(01:52):
nearest the high table, and he had therefore the whole
room to cross. He was smiling a little of faint
color in his cheeks. At his own end of the table,
Craven was standing silent, with his eyes gravely fixed upon
OVA's face. Half Way down the hall there was Bunning,
and Ova could see as he passed up the room
(02:14):
that the man was trembling and was pressing his hands
down upon the table to hold his body still. When
Ova had sat down and the cheering had passed again
into the cheerful arm that was customary, the first voice
that greeted him was Cardiac's congratulations, old man, I'm delighted.
There was no question of Cardiac's sincerity. Craven was sitting
(02:37):
four places lower down. He had turned the other way
and was talking eagerly to some man on his farther's side.
But the eyes that had met OVA's two minutes before
had been hostile. Cardiac went on come in to coffee afterwards,
Dane several men are coming in. Olva thanked him and
said that he would. The world was waiting to see
(02:58):
how Cards would take it, and beyond question, Cards was
taking it very well. Indeed, an observer might have noticed
that Cards was too absorbed by the way that doone
was taking it to take it himself consciously at all
Ovah's aloof surveying of the world about him, as a
man on a hill surveys the town in the valley
(03:21):
made of cards. Last year and a half a gaudy
and noisy thing. He had thought that his attitude had
been nicely adjusted. But now he saw that there were
still heights to be reached. Perhaps in this welcome that
he was giving to doone success he might attain his position.
Not in any way a bad fellow, this Cardiac, but
(03:41):
obsessed by a self conscious conviction that the world was
looking at him. The world never looks for more than
an instant at self consciousness, but it dearly loves self forgetfulness,
for that implies a compliment to itself. Afterwards, in Cardiac's
handsome and over careful rooms, there was an attempt at depth.
(04:03):
The set Lawrence, Gallian Craven and five or six more
never thought about life unless drink drove them to do so,
And drink drove them tonight. A long, thin man, Williamson
by name, with a half blue for rackets and a
pensive manner, had a favorite formula on these occasions. But
(04:23):
think of a rabbit now only conveying by the remark
that here was a proof of God's supreme, astounding carelessness.
You shoot it, you know, without turning a hair, no joke,
you rodder, And it breeds millions a week? And does
it think about it? That's what I want to know.
Where's its soul? Hasn't got it all? Well? What is
(04:45):
the soul? Anyway? There you are the things properly started.
And the more the set drinks, the vaguer it gets,
until finally it goes happily to bed and wakes with
a headache and a healthy opinion. That and that sort
of stuff is wrought in the morning. That is precisely
as far as intellect ever ventured in souls. There may
(05:07):
have been quaint, obscure fellows who sported their oaks every
night and talked cleverly on ginger beer, but they were
not admitted as part of the scheme of things. So
lines to quote Lawrence are not clever. They were not
especially clever tonight, thought Ova, as he sat in the shadow,
away from the light of the fire, and watched them
(05:29):
sitting back in enormous arm chairs with their legs stretched out,
blowing wreaths of smoke into the air, drinking whiskies and sodas. No,
not clever. Craven, the shadows blacker than ever under his eyes,
was on the opposite side of the room from Ova.
He sat with his head down and was silent. Think
(05:52):
of a rabbit, now, said Williamson. I suppose, said Galion,
who was not gifted, that they're happy enough, yes, but
what do they make of it all? At this moment,
Craven suddenly burst in with where's Carfax? This question was
felt by everyone to be tactless elaborately, with great care
(06:13):
and some considerable effort, Carfax had been forgotten, forgotten, it
seemed by everyone save Craven. He had been forgotten because
his death did not belong to the Cambridge order of things,
because it raised unpleasant ideas and made one morbid and neurotic.
It had, in fact nothing in common with cold baths, marmalade,
(06:35):
rugby football, and musical comedy. On the present occasion, the
remark was especially unpleasant because Craven had made it in
so odd a manner. During the last few weeks, it
had been very generally noticed that Craven had not been himself,
so pleasant and healthy a fellow he had always been,
(06:55):
but now this Carfax business was too much for him.
Look Out for Uncle had been the general warning implied,
if not expressed. Persons who threatened to be unusual were
always marked down in Cambridge, and now Craven had been unusual.
Where's Carfax? What a dreadful thing to say? And how tactless?
(07:18):
The note. Moreover, in Craven's voice, sounded a danger. There
was something in the air, as though the fellow might
at any moment burst into tears, fire a pistol into
the air, or jump out of the window. So unpleasant
and Carfax was much more real even now than an
abstract rabbit. Dear boy said cardiac easily. Carfax is dead.
(07:43):
We all miss him. It was a beastly horrible affair.
But there's no point in dwelling on things one only
gets morbid, and morbidity isn't what we're here for. It's
all very well, Craven was angrily muttering. But it's scandalous
the way you forget a man here. He was amongst
the whole lot of you, only a month or so ago,
(08:04):
and he was a friend of every one's. And then
some brute kills him. He's done for, and you don't
care a damn. It's beastly. It makes one sick. Where
do you think he is, craven Ova asked quietly from
his shadowy corner. Craven flung up his head. Perhaps you
can tell us, he cried. There was such hostility in
(08:26):
his voice that the whole room was startled. Poor Craven,
he really was very unwell. The sight of his tired
eyes and white cheeks, the shadow of his hand quivering
on his knee, here were signs that all was not
as it should be gone. Now at any rate, any
possibility of a comfortable evening. Craven said no more, but
(08:49):
still sat there with his head hanging. His only movement
the shaking of his hand. Gardiac tried to bring ease
back again. Williamson once more started his rabbits, but now
there was danger in that direction. Conversation fell heavily, helplessly
to the ground. Some man got up to go, and
(09:10):
some one else followed him. It was the wrong moment
for departure, for they had drunk enough to make it
desirable to drink more. But to escape from that white
face of Craven's was the thing out into the air.
At last, Craven himself got up. I must be off,
he said, heavily. So must i, Ova said, coming forward
(09:30):
from his corner. Craven flung him a frightened glance, and
then passed, stumbling out of the door. Ova caught him
up at the bottom of the dark stairs. He put
a hand on Craven's trembling arm and held him there.
I want to talk to you, Craven. Come up to
my room. Craven tried to wrench his arm away. No,
I'm tired. I want to go to bed. You haven't
(09:53):
been near me for weeks. Why, oh nothing, Let me go.
I'll come up another time. No, I must talk to you. Now. Come.
OVA's voice was stern, his face white and hard. No,
I won't you must, I won't keep you long. I
have something to tell you. Craven suddenly ceased to struggle.
(10:15):
He gazed straight into OVA's eyes, and the look that
he gave him was the strangest thing, something of terror,
something of anger, a great wonder, and even strangest of all,
a struggling affection. I'll come, he said. In Olva's room,
he stood a disturbed figure, facing the imperturbability of the
(10:37):
other man, with restless eyes and hands that moved up
and down against his goat. Ova commanded the situation with
stern eyes. He seemed to be the accuser. Sit down,
phil a pipe. No, I won't sit. What do you want?
Please sit? It's so much easier for us both to talk.
I can't say the things that I want to when
(10:57):
you're standing over me. Please sit down. Craven sat down.
Ova faced him. Now, look here, Craven, A little time
ago you came and wished that we should see a
good deal of one another. You came in here often,
and you took me to see your people. You were charming.
I was delighted to be with you. Ova paused, Craven
(11:19):
said nothing. Then suddenly, for no reason that I can understand,
this changed. Do you remember that afternoon when you had
tea with me here and I went to sleep. It
was after that you were never the same after that,
and it has been growing worse. Now you avoid me altogether.
You don't speak to me if you can help it.
(11:40):
I'm not a man of many friends, and I don't
wish to lose one without knowing first what it is
that I have done. Will you tell me what it is?
Craven made no answer. His eyes passed restlessly up and
down the room, as though searching for some way of escape.
He made little choking sounds in his throat. When Ova
had had no answer to his question, he went gravely on,
(12:03):
But it isn't only your attitude to me that matters,
although I do want you to explain that, but I
want you also to tell me what the damage is.
You're most awfully unwell. You're an utterly different man, changed
entirely during the last week or two, and we've all
noticed it. But it doesn't only worry us here it
(12:24):
worries your mother and sister too. You've no right to
keep it to yourself. There is nothing the matter, of
course there is. A man doesn't alter in a day
for nothing. And I dated all from that evening when
you had tea with me. And I can't help feeling
that it's something that I can clear up, if it
is anything that I can do, if I can clear
(12:46):
your bother up in any way, you have only to
tell me, And he added slowly, I think at least
that you owe me an explanation of your own personal
avoidance of me. No man has any right to drop
a friend without giving his reasons. You know that, Craven.
Craven suddenly raised his weary eyes. I never was a
(13:07):
friend of yours. We were acquaintances, that's all. You made
me a friend of your mother and sister. I'd demand
an explanation, Craven, there is no explanation. I'm not well
out of condition. Why why is a fellow ever out
of condition? I've been working too hard, I suppose. But
(13:27):
you said you've got something to tell me. What have
you got to tell me? Tell me first? What is
troubling you? No, you refuse, absolutely, Then I have nothing
to tell you. Then you brought me in here on
a lie. I should never have come if yes, if
I hadn't thought you had something to tell me, What
(13:48):
should I have to tell you? I don't know nothing.
There was a pause, and then with a sudden, surprising force,
Craven almost appealed Doom. You can help me. You can
make a great difference. I am ill, It's quite true.
I'm not myself a bit, and I'm tortured by imaginations,
(14:08):
awful things. I suppose Carfax has got on my nerves,
and I've had absurd fancies. You can help me if
you'll just answer me one question, only one. I don't
want to know anything else. I'll never ask you anything else.
Only this. Where were you on the afternoon that Carfax
was murdered? He brought it out at last, his hands
(14:30):
gripping the sides of his chair, all the agonized uncertainty
of the last few weeks in his voice. Ova faced him,
standing above him and looking down upon him. My dear Craven,
what an odd question. Why do you want to know? Well?
Finding your match box like that there in Sannet Wood,
(14:50):
and I know you must have lost it just about then,
because I remember your looking for it here. I thought
perhaps you might have seen somebody had some kind of suspicion. Well,
I was, as a matter of fact, there that very afternoon.
I walked through the wood with Bunker rather late. I
met no one during the whole of the time. No one,
(15:13):
no one. You have no suspicion, no suspicion. The boy
relapsed from his eagerness into his heavy, dreary indifference. His
lips were working. Ova seemed to catch the words why
should it be? I? Why should it be I? Ova
came over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
(15:34):
Look here, old man, I don't know what's the matter
with you, but it's plain enough that you've got this
Carfax business on your nerves. Drop it. It does no good.
It's the worst thing in the world to brood about.
Carfax is dead. If I could help you to find
his murderer, I would, But I can't. Craven's whole body
was trembling under Olva's hand. Ova moved back to his chair. Craven,
(15:59):
listen to me. You must listen to me. Then, speaking
very slowly, he brought out I have a right to
speak to you, A great right I wish to marry
your sister, Craven started up from his chair. No, no,
he cried, you never, so long as I can prevent it.
(16:20):
You have no right to say that, Ulva answered him sternly,
until you have given me your reasons. I don't know
that she cares a pen about me. I don't suppose
that she does, but she will. I'm going to do
my very best to marry her. Craven broke away to
the middle of the room. His body was shaking with passion,
and he flung out his hand as though to ward
(16:43):
off Ova from him. You marry my sister, My God,
I will prevent it. I will tell her. He caught
himself up suddenly. What will you tell her? Then? Craven collapsed.
He stood there, rocking on his feet, his hands covering
his face. Oh it's all too awful, he moaned. It's
(17:05):
all too awful. For a wonderful moment, Ova felt that
he was about to tell Craven everything. A flood of
words rose to his lips. He seemed for an instant
to be rising with a great joyous freedom, as did
Christian when he had dropped his burden to a new honesty.
A high deliverance, and then he remembered Margaret Craven. You
(17:28):
take my advice, Craven, and get you nurse straight. You're
in a shocking condition. Craven went to the door and
turned You can tell nothing nothing. I will never rest
until I know who murdered Carfax. He closed the door
behind him and was gone. End of chapter ten.
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