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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38624-h.zip b/38624-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c453bef --- /dev/null +++ b/38624-h.zip diff --git a/38624-h/36824-h.htm b/38624-h/36824-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41c7ae7 --- /dev/null +++ b/38624-h/36824-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6824 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + +<head> + + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of the Story Of Charles Strange Vol 2 Of 3, by Mrs. Henry Wood. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + blockquote { + text-align:justify; + } + + body { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + } + + .booktitle { + letter-spacing:3px; + } + + .border2 { + border-width:2px; + border-style:solid; + border-color:black; + } + + .center { + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + } + + div.center { + text-align:center; + } + + div.center table { + margin-left:auto; + margin-right:auto; + text-align:left; + } + + .dropimg { + float:left; + margin-right:.5em; + margin-bottom:0; + } + + .figcenter { + padding:1em; + text-align:center; + font-size:0.8em; + border:none; + margin:auto; + text-indent:1em; + } + + .h1 { + font-size:2em; + margin:.67em 0; + } + + .h1, .h2, .h3, .h4, .h5, .h6 { + font-weight:bolder; + text-align:center; + text-indent:0; + } + + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { + text-align:center; + } + + .h2 { + font-size:1.5em; + margin:.75em 0; + } + + .h3 { + font-size:1.17em; + margin:.83em 0; + } + + .h4 { + margin:1.12em 0 ; + } + + .h5 { + font-size:.83em; + margin:1.5em 0 ; + } + + h5 { + margin-bottom:1%; + margin-top:1%; + } + + .h6 { + font-size:.75em; + margin:1.67em 0; + } + + hr.chap { + margin-top:6em; + margin-bottom:4em; + clear:both; + } + + hr.tb { + margin:2em 25%; + width:50%; + } + + p { + text-align:justify; + margin-top:.75em; + margin-bottom:.75em; + text-indent:0; + } + + p.author { + text-align:right; + margin-right:5%; + } + + p.caption { + text-indent:0; + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + margin-bottom:2em; + } + + p.right { + text-align:right; + } + + p.spacer { + margin-top:2em; + margin-bottom:3em; + } + + .pagenum { + visibility:hidden; /* comment out to show page numbers */ + position:absolute; + right:2%; + font-size:75%; + color:gray; + background-color:inherit; + text-align:right; + text-indent:0; + font-style:normal; + font-weight:normal; + font-variant:normal; + } + + .poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + margin-bottom:1em; + text-align:left; + } + + .poem .stanza { + margin:1em 0em 1em 0em; + } + + .poem p { + margin:0; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i0 { + display:block; + margin-left:0em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i2 { + display:block; + margin-left:2em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .smcap { + font-variant:small-caps; + } + + span.hide { + display:none + } + + .tdlfirst { + text-align:left; + font-size:60%; + } + + .tdl { + text-align:left; + } + + .tdr { + text-align:right; + padding-right:1em; + } + + .tdrfirst { + text-align:right; + padding-right:1em; + font-size:60%; + } + + .trnote { + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + margin-top:5%; + margin-bottom:5%; + padding:1em; + background-color:#f6f2f2; + color:black; + border:1px dotted black; + } + + *.clearboth { + clear:both; + } + + </style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange Vol. 2 (of 3), by +Mrs. Henry Wood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Story of Charles Strange Vol. 2 (of 3) + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: January 20, 2012 [EBook #38624] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="621" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p class="caption">The Story of Charles Strange<br />Mrs. Henry Wood</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img class="border2" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="400" height="625" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h1 class="booktitle">THE<br />STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE</h1> + +<p class="h4">A Novel</p> + +<p class="h5">BY</p> + +<p class="h3">MRS. HENRY WOOD</p> + +<p class="h5">AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," ETC.</p> + +<p class="h5">IN THREE VOLUMES<br /> +VOL. II.</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h5">LONDON<br /> +RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON</p> + +<p class="h6">Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen<br /> +1888<br /> +[<i>All Rights Reserved</i>]</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i001a.jpg" width="400" height="114" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2>CONTENTS OF VOL. II</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + <td class="tdlfirst">CHAPTER</td> + <td class="tdrfirst">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">I</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">SUSPICION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">NOT LIFTED</a></td> + <td class="tdr">26</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET</a></td> + <td class="tdr">52</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">LEAH'S STORY</a></td> + <td class="tdr">75</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">LADY CLAVERING</a></td> + <td class="tdr">100</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">THE MISSING WILL</a></td> + <td class="tdr">130</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">ANNABEL</a></td> + <td class="tdr">154</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">PERRY'S REVELATION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">178</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">SOMEONE ELSE SEEN</a></td> + <td class="tdr">200</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">PROWLING ABOUT</a></td> + <td class="tdr">224</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">MRS. BRIGHTMAN</a></td> + <td class="tdr">247</td></tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">MY LORD AND MY LADY</a></td> + <td class="tdr">272</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i001b.jpg" width="150" height="200" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i002a.jpg" width="400" height="110" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="THE_STORY_OF_CHARLES_STRANGE">THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE.</h2> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="h3">SUSPICION.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-t.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">T</span>HE</b> church-clock of that small country place, Upper Marshdale, was +chiming half-past nine on a dark night, as the local inspector turned +out of the police-station and made his way with a fleet step across a +piece of waste land and some solitary fields beyond it. His name was +Poole, and he was hastening to Marshdale House, as Lord Level's place +was called. A mysterious occurrence had taken place there<span class="pagenum">[2]</span> the night +before: Lord Level, previously an invalid, had been stabbed in his +bed.</p> + +<p>The officer rang a loud peal at the outer gate, and a policeman, who +had been already sent on, came from the house to answer the summons. +He waited when they were both within the gate, knowing that he should +be questioned. His superior walked half-way up the avenue, and placed +his back against a tree.</p> + +<p>"What have you learnt, Jekyl? Any clue to the assassin?"</p> + +<p>The policeman dropped his voice to a whisper, as though afraid the +very trees might hear. "Speak up," sharply interrupted the inspector. +"The air carries no tales."</p> + +<p>"The case seems as clear, sir, as any we ever came across; a clear +case against Lady Level."</p> + +<p>It takes a great deal to astonish a police inspector, but this +announcement certainly astonished Mr. Inspector Poole. "Against Lady +Level?" he repeated.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[3]</span></p> + +<p>"She's the guilty one, sir, I fear. But who'd think it, to see her? +Only about twenty or so, and with beauty enough to knock you over, and +blue eyes that look you down in their pride. She's dressed out like +those high-born ladies do dress, in light silk that glistens as she +walks, her neck and arms uncovered. There's a gentleman with her now, +some friend of the family, and he won't let us go on with our +investigation. He came and stopped it, and said we were acting against +Lord Level's wishes."</p> + +<p>"But why do you suspect Lady Level?" inquired the inspector.</p> + +<p>"Listen, sir. It appears certain that no one got in; the doors and +windows were left safe, and were found so; hadn't been disturbed at +all; there has been no robbery, or anything of that sort, and no +suspicion attaches to any of the servants so far as I see. Then there +are the facts themselves. The servants were aroused in the middle of +the night by Lord Level's bell ringing violently, and my lady +screaming. When<span class="pagenum">[4]</span> they got to his room, there he lay, fainted dead off, +stabbed in two places, and she pretty near fainting too, and dropped +down in a chair in her silk dressing-gown——"</p> + +<p>"I am acquainted with the facts so far, Jekyl."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir. Not a sign or symptom was there of anybody else being +about, or of anybody's having been about. Her ladyship's version is, +that she was woke up by Lord Level calling to her, and she found him +stabbed and bleeding. That is all she will confess to."</p> + +<p>"And he?"</p> + +<p>"He says nothing, I hear, except that he will not have the police +called in. He did not even want to have a doctor. But his lordship is +off his head with fever, and may not know what he is saying."</p> + +<p>"How does Lady Level account for the knife being found in her room?"</p> + +<p>"There it is," cried the man. "Whenever these people, let them be high +or low, do an evil deed, they are certain to commit<span class="pagenum">[5]</span> some act of folly +which allows suspicion to creep in. They over-do it, or they under-do +it. If anyone else had done it and carried the weapon to her +ladyship's room, she must have seen who it was, and would surely have +denounced him. And why did <i>she</i> put it there of all places? There's a +fatality on them, I say, sir, and they can't escape it."</p> + +<p>"But her motive for attacking him?"</p> + +<p>"They were on bad terms, it seems. The servants heard them quarrelling +violently earlier in the evening."</p> + +<p>"Did the servants tell you this, to confirm their suspicions against +her?"</p> + +<p>"They don't suspect her, sir," replied Jekyl. "I and Cliff have drawn +our own deductions by what they have said, and by personal +observation."</p> + +<p>The inspector mused. He was a kindly-disposed man, possessed his share +of common sense, and did not feel so sure about the matter as his +subordinate. "It appears scarcely credible that a young woman like<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> +Lady Level, hardly six months married, should attempt her husband's +life, Jekyl. Where are these servants?"</p> + +<p>"In the kitchen, sir. This way. There's no establishment to speak of. +When my lord was detained here through damage to his knee, my lady +followed him down—against his will, it's whispered—and brought only +her maid and a man-servant."</p> + +<p>"I think you have been listening to a good deal of gossip," remarked +Inspector Poole, as he moved on to the house.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Lady Level, in deep agitation, stood at the window which she +had had thrown up for air, while she made the confession to Mr. +Ravensworth that she had been a witness to the attack on her husband. +This she had denied before; and it might never have been wrung from +her, but that she overheard the two policemen, already in the house, +whispering their suspicions against her.</p> + +<p>She was shocked, indignant, terrified. She leaned for support on the +window-frame,<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> panting for breath in the cold night air.</p> + +<p>"Arnold, am I to bear this?"</p> + +<p>He stood with folded arms. He felt for her deeply: were she connected +with him by near ties of blood, he could not have been more anxious to +protect her; but a strong doubt that she <i>might</i> be guilty was working +within him. He supposed she must have received some great provocation +from Lord Level.</p> + +<p>"How cruel they are to entertain such a suspicion! If they—if +they—— Oh, Arnold, they never will arrest me!—they never will +publicly accuse me!" she uttered, as a new possibility occurred to +her.</p> + +<p>"Blanche, listen," he rejoined, talking to her as he had talked when +she was a child. "All that can be done for you, I will do; but I +cannot work in this uncertainty. Tell me the truth; be it good or be +it ill, I will stand by you; but, if I am to be of service to you, I +must know it. Was it you who struck Lord Level?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[8]</span></p> + +<p>"No. Have I not just told you so?"</p> + +<p>"What you told me I do not understand. You say you saw it done——"</p> + +<p>"Then I did not see it done," she petulantly interrupted; and no more +questions would she answer.</p> + +<p>"Let me take you back to the fire," said Mr. Ravensworth, as he shut +down the window. "You are trembling with cold."</p> + +<p>"Not with cold," was her reply.</p> + +<p>Stirring the fire into a blaze, he drew the easy-chair near it for +her. He then stood by, saying nothing.</p> + +<p>"Suppose they should openly accuse me?" she began, after a silence. +"Would they arrest me?"</p> + +<p>"Blanche," he retorted, in sharp, ringing, imperative accents, "are +you guilty? Tell me, one way or the other, that I may know what to be +at."</p> + +<p>Lady Level rose and confronted him, her blue eyes wearing their most +haughty expression. "You have known me for many years, known me well; +how then can you repeat<span class="pagenum">[9]</span> that question? <i>I</i> guilty of attacking Lord +Level!"</p> + +<p>"I would rather believe myself—I could as soon believe my own wife +guilty of such a thing; but why have you equivocated with me? You have +not told me the truth, as to what passed that night."</p> + +<p>"My husband charged me not to tell anyone."</p> + +<p>"Five minutes ago you told me yourself that you saw it done; now you +say you did not see it. What am I to think?"</p> + +<p>"In saying I saw it done, I spoke hastily; what I ought to have said +was, that I saw who did it. And then, to-day, Lord Level insisted that +I had been dreaming," she abstractedly continued. "Arnold, do you +believe that we can see visions or dream dreams that afterwards wear +the semblance of realities?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not speak in riddles. The time is going on; those +men of the law may come in and accuse you, and what defence am I to +make for you? You know<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> that you may trust me. What you say shall +never pass my lips."</p> + +<p>Lady Level deliberated. "I will trust you," she said at length: "there +seems to be no help for it. I went to rest last night angry with Lord +Level, for we had spoken irritating words to each other. I lay awake, +I dare say for an hour, indulging bitter thoughts, and then I dropped +asleep. Suddenly something woke me; I cannot tell you what it was: +whether it was any noise, or whether it was the opening of the door, +which I had closed, between my room and Lord Level's. All I know is, +that door was wide open, and someone stood in the doorway with a +lighted candle. It was a strange-looking object, and seemed to be +dressed in flannel—either a long flannel shirt or a flannel gown. In +the confusion of the moment I believed it must be Lord Level, and I +was struck with amazement, for Lord Level is not able to get out of +bed without assistance, from the injury to his knee, and I thought how +long his hair was, and how<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> dark it had grown—that was, you know, +when I was between sleeping and waking. Then I saw that it had large, +flashing black eyes, so it could not be Lord Level. It crossed the +room——"</p> + +<p>"Blanche," he interrupted, "you speak just as if you were describing a +vision. It——"</p> + +<p>"That is what Lord Level now says it was. Let me go on. It crossed the +room as far as the dressing-table. I started up in bed then, and the +wild eyes turned upon me, and at the same moment Lord Level called out +from his own bed, apparently in agitation or pain. The figure dropped +something, turned round, and darted back again through the open door +to the other chamber. I saw the candle fall from its hand to the +floor, and the place was in darkness, except for the little light that +came from Lord Level's night-lamp. Terror overwhelmed me, and I cried +out, and then my husband called to me by name. I ran to his room, +flinging on my warm silk dressing-gown as<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> I went, and there I found +him hurt in some way, for he was bleeding from the arm and from the +side. Arnold, as I live, as I breathe, that is the whole truth," she +concluded with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Did you again see the figure? Was it in Lord Level's room?"</p> + +<p>"It was not there. I saw no trace of it. I remember I picked up the +candlestick, for it was right in my path, and I screamed when I saw +the blood upon my husband. He caught me to him by the other arm, as I +have told you, telling me not to be frightened, that he would protect +me; and I saw how white he looked, and that his brow was damp. +Presently I asked him who and what it was; and the question seemed to +excite him. 'Say nothing of what you have seen,' he cried; 'I charge +you, <i>nothing</i>.' I don't quite know what I replied; it was to the +effect that the household must be aroused, and the figure searched +for. 'Blanche, you are my wife,' he said solemnly; 'my interests are +yours; I charge you, by your duty and<span class="pagenum">[13]</span> obedience to me, that you say +nothing. Bury this in silence, as you value your life and mine.' Then +he fainted and his hold relaxed, and I screamed out and the servants +came. Had my life depended upon it I could not have helped screaming. +What the figure had dropped in my room proved to be the knife."</p> + +<p>"This is a very strange account!" exclaimed Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"It is so strange that I lose myself at times, wondering whether I was +dreaming or awake. But it was true; it was true; though I could not +proclaim it in defiance of my husband."</p> + +<p>"Do you think the figure, as you call it, could have been one of the +servants in disguise?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain it was not. Not one of them has that dark Italian face."</p> + +<p>"Italian face!" echoed Mr. Ravensworth. "Why do you call it an Italian +face?"</p> + +<p>Lady Level bent her head. "The thought somehow struck me," she +answered, after a<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> pause. "Not at the time, but since. I fancied it +not unlike the Italian faces that one sees in pictures."</p> + +<p>"Was it a man or a woman?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. At the time I took it to be a man, quite young. But +since, recalling the appearance—well, it seems to me that it is +impossible to decide which it was."</p> + +<p>"And you saw no signs of this mysterious figure afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever. There were no traces, I tell you, of its having been +there, except the injury to Lord Level, the knife, and the fallen +candlestick. The candlestick may have been left in Lord Level's room +the previous night, for it is precisely like those used in the +household, so that the figure may have lighted it from the +night-lamp."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth could not make much of all this. It puzzled him. "The +curious thing is," he said aloud, "where could the figure have come +from?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[15]</span></p> + +<p>"The curious thing is, that Lord Level wants to persuade me now that +this was only a dream of the imagination."</p> + +<p>"That his wounds are?"</p> + +<p>"Not his wounds, of course—or the knife, but a great deal of what I +told him. He ridicules the bare idea of its being a 'strange figure,' +'strangely dressed.' He says he caught a full view of the man who +attacked him; that he should know him again; that he was dressed in a +sort of soft light fustian, and was no more wild-looking than I am, +except such wildness as arose from his state of inebriation, and he +suspects he was a poacher who must have got in through one of the +windows."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth pondered over the tale: and he could not help deeming +it a most improbable one. But that traces of some mysterious presence +had been left behind, he would have regarded it as her husband +appeared partially to regard it—a midnight freak of Lady Level's +imagination. "Yet the wounds are realities," said Mr. Ravensworth,<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> +speaking aloud, in answer to his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Arnold, it is all a reality," she said impressively. "There are +moments, I say, when I am almost tempted to question it, but in my +sober reason I know it to have been true; and while I ask myself, 'Was +it a dream?' I hold a perfect, positive conviction that it was only +too terrible a reality."</p> + +<p>"You have spoken once or twice of its wild appearance. Did it look +like a madman?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw a madman, that I know of. This creature looked wild +enough to be mad. There was one thing I thought curious in connection +with finding the knife," proceeded Lady Level. "Timms, who picked it +up, while Sanders had gone down for some hot water, brought it into +Lord Level's room, calling out that she had found the weapon. 'Why, +that's Mr. Drewitt's knife!' exclaimed the housemaid, Deborah, as soon +as she saw it; and the steward, who had only just reached the room, +asked her how she could<span class="pagenum">[17]</span> make the assertion. 'It is yours, sir,' said +Deborah; 'it's your new knife; I have seen it on your table, and +should know it anywhere.' 'Deborah, if you repeat that again, I'll +have you punished,' sharply called out the housekeeper, without, you +understand, turning from Lord Level, to whom she was attending, to +ascertain whether it was or was not the knife. Now, Arnold," added +Lady Level, "ill and terrified as I felt at the moment, a conviction +came across me that it was Mr. Drewitt's knife, but that he and Mrs. +Edwards were purposely denying it."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to suspect them of attacking, or conniving at the +attack on Lord Level."</p> + +<p>"They attack Lord Level! They would rather attack the whole world +combined, than that a hair of his head should suffer. They are fondly, +devotedly attached to him. And Deborah, it appears, has been convinced +out of her assertion. Hark! who is that?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth opened the door to reconnoitre. The inspector was +prowling about<span class="pagenum">[18]</span> the house and passages, exploring the outlets and +inlets, followed by his two men, who had done the same before him.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had forbidden the men to search," cried Lady Level. +"Why are they disobeying you?"</p> + +<p>"Their chief is here now, and of course his orders go before mine. +Besides, after what you have told me, I consider there ought to be a +thorough search," added Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"In opposition to Lord Level?"</p> + +<p>"I think that Lord Level has not taken a sufficiently serious view of +the case. The only solution I can come to is, that some escaped madman +got into the house before it was closed for the night, and concealed +himself in it. If so, he may be in it now."</p> + +<p>"Now! In it now!" she exclaimed, turning pale.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I think it may be so. The doors and windows were all +found safely fastened, you see. Therefore he could not escape during +the night. And since the<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> doors were opened this morning, the +household, I take it, has been so constantly on the alert, that it +might be an extremely difficult matter for him to get away unseen. If +he, this madman, did enter yesterday evening, he must have found some +place of concealment and hidden himself in it for hours, since it was +not until one o'clock that he made the attack on Lord Level."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Arnold, that is all too improbable," she rejoined doubtingly. "A +madman could not plan and do all that."</p> + +<p>"Madmen are more cunning than sane ones, sometimes."</p> + +<p>"But I—I think it was a woman," said Lady Level, lowering her voice +and her eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth looked at her. And for the first time, a feeling +flashed into his mind that Lady Level had some suspicion which she +would not speak of.</p> + +<p>"Blanche," he said sharply, "do you know who it was? Tell me, if you +do."</p> + +<p>"I do not," she answered emphatically.<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> "I may imagine this and +imagine that, but I do not know anything."</p> + +<p>"You were speaking, then, from imagination?"</p> + +<p>"Y—es. In a case of mystery, such as this, imagination runs riot, and +you can't prevent its doing so."</p> + +<p>Again there was something about Lady Level that struck Mr. Ravensworth +as being not honestly true. Before more could be said, steps were +heard approaching the room; and Lady Level, afraid to meet the police, +made her escape from it.</p> + +<p>Running swiftly upstairs, she was passing Lord Level's door to enter +her own, when she heard his voice, speaking collectedly, and peeped +in. He saw her, and held out his hand. He appeared now quite rational, +though his fine gray eyes were glistening and his fair face was +flushed. Mrs. Edwards was standing by the bedside, and it was to her +he had been talking.</p> + +<p>Blanche advanced timidly. "Are you feeling better?" she softly asked.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[21]</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, much better; nearly well: but for my knee I should be up and +about," he answered, as he drew her towards him. "Mrs. Edwards, will +you close the door? I wish to speak with my wife."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Edwards, with a warning glance at her lady, which seemed to say, +"He is not fit for it"—at least Blanche so interpreted it—went out +and shut the door. Lord Level drew her closer to his side. He was +lying propped up by a mound of pillows, almost sitting up in bed, and +kept her standing there.</p> + +<p>"Blanche," he began in very quiet tones, "I hear the police are in the +house."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she was obliged to answer, quite taken aback and feeling very +much vexed that he had been told, as it was likely to excite him.</p> + +<p>"Who sent for them? You?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no."</p> + +<p>"Then it was your friend; that fellow Ravensworth. I thought as much."</p> + +<p>"But indeed it was not," she eagerly<span class="pagenum">[22]</span> answered, shrinking from her +husband's scornful tones. "When the two policemen came in—and we do +not know who it was sent them—Mr. Ravensworth went to them by my +desire to stop the search. I told him that you objected to it."</p> + +<p>"Objected to it! I forbade it," haughtily rejoined Lord Level. "And +if—if——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray, Archibald, do not excite yourself; do not, do not!" she +interrupted, frightened and anxious. "You know you will become worse +again if you do."</p> + +<p>"Will you go and end it in my name? End it, and send them away from +the house."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you tell me to do so; if you insist upon it," she answered. +"But I am afraid."</p> + +<p>"Why are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>Lady Level bent her head until it was on a level with his. "For this, +Archibald," she whispered: "that they might question me—and I should +be obliged to answer them."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p> + +<p>Lord Level gently drew her cool cheek nearer, that it might rest +against his fevered one, and remained silent, apparently pondering the +question.</p> + +<p>"After I told you all that I saw that night, you bade me be silent," +she resumed. "Well, I fear the police might draw it from me if they +questioned me."</p> + +<p>"But you must not allow them to draw it from you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but perhaps I could not help it," she sighed. "You know what the +police are—how they question and cross-question people."</p> + +<p>"Blanche, I reminded you last night that you were my wife, and you +owed me implicit obedience in all great things."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I am trying to obey you; I am indeed, Archibald," she +protested, almost torn by conflicting emotions; for, in spite of her +doubts and suspicions, and (as she put it to herself) her "wrongs," +she loved her husband yet.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, you must be brave for<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> my sake; ay, and for your own. +Listen, Blanche: you will tell the police <i>nothing</i>; and they <i>must +not search the house</i>. I don't care to see them myself to forbid it; I +don't want to see them. For one thing, I am hardly strong enough to +support the excitement it would cause me. But——"</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me something, Archibald?" she whispered. "Is +the—the—person—that attacked you in the house now?"</p> + +<p>Lord Level looked surprised. "In this house? Why, how could it be? +Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Was it—was it a woman?" she breathed, her voice low and tremulous.</p> + +<p>He turned angry. "How can you be so silly, Blanche? A woman! Oh yes," +changing to sarcasm, "of course it was a woman. It was you, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"That is what they are saying, Archibald."</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> are they saying?" he returned, in dangerous excitement—if +Blanche had only noticed the signs. For all this was agitating him.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> + +<p>"Why, that," she answered, bursting into tears. "The police are saying +so. They are saying that it was I who stabbed you."</p> + +<p>Lord Level cried out as a man in agony. And, with that, delirium came +on again.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="150" height="178" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[26]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i004a.jpg" width="400" height="114" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="h3">NOT LIFTED.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-m.jpg" width="80" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">M</span>Y</b> Lady Level sat at the open window of her husband's sitting-room, in +the dark, her hot face lifted to the cool night air. Only a moment ago +Lord Level had been calling out in his delirium, and Mrs. Edwards was +putting cool appliances to his head, and damp, hot bricks to his feet. +And Blanche knew that it was she who, by her indiscreet remarks and +questioning, had brought on the crisis. She had not meant to harm or +excite him; but she had done it; and she was very contrite.</p> + +<p>It was now between ten and eleven o'clock. She did not intend to go to +bed that night;<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> and she had already slipped off her evening dress, +and put on a morning one of soft gray cashmere. With his lordship in a +fresh attack of fever, and the police about, the household did not +think of going to rest.</p> + +<p>Blanche Level sat in a miserable reverie, her lovely face pressed upon +her slender hand, the tears standing in her blue eyes. She was +suspecting her husband of all kinds of unorthodox things—this has +been said before. Not the least disloyal of them being that an +individual named Nina, who wore long gold earrings to enhance her +charms, was concealed in that east wing, which might almost be called +a separate house, and which owned a separate entrance.</p> + +<p>And a conviction lay upon Lady Level—caught up since, not at the +time—that it was this Nina who had attacked Lord Level. She could not +drive away the impression.</p> + +<p>Naturally she was bitterly resentful. Not at the attack, but at all +the rest of it. She had said nothing yet to her husband, and she did +not know whether she ever should<span class="pagenum">[28]</span> say it; for even to speak upon such +a topic reflected on herself a shame that stung her. <i>Of course</i> he +forbade the search lest this visitor should be discovered, reasoned +she; that is, he told her to forbid it: but ought she to obey him? +Lady Level, cowering there in the darkness, would have served as a +perfect exemplification of a small portion of Collins's "Ode to the +Passions."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sad proof of thy distressful state;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of differing themes the veering song was mixed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now it courted love, now raving, called on hate.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Thus was it here. One moment she felt that she could—and should—put +Lord Level away from her for his falsity, his treachery; the next she +was conscious that life without him would be one long and bitter +penance, for she had learned to love him with her whole heart and +soul.</p> + +<p>And until that miserable sojourn at Pisa, she had deemed that he +returned her love, truly and passionately. Fie on the deceitful wiles +of man!</p><p><span class="pagenum">[29]</span></p> + +<p>A stir in the passage without. Was there any change in Lord Level, for +better or for worse? Despite her resentment, she was anxious, and she +opened the door. Mrs. Edwards had come out from the opposite chamber, +a basin in hand.</p> + +<p>"My lady, he is calmer," whispered the housekeeper, answering the +unspoken question which she read in her eyes. "If he could only be +kept so, if he had nothing to disturb him, he would soon be well +again. It is a most unlucky thing that these police should have come +here, where they are not wanted. That of itself must bring excitement +to his lordship."</p> + +<p>"It is unlucky that these tales should have been carried to him," +haughtily reproved the young lady. "I cannot think who does it, or +why."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lady, but when his lordship questions of this and that, he +must be answered."</p> + +<p>Closing the door of the sick-chamber very quietly, Mrs. Edwards passed +down the<span class="pagenum">[30]</span> stairs. At the same moment, covert steps were heard +ascending them. Lady Level caught a glimpse of Mr. Inspector Poole's +head, and stole back out of sight.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Ravensworth had been trying to gain a little explanation +from that official. "Do you know," he said to him, "that you are here +against Lord Level's wishes, and in direct opposition to his orders?"</p> + +<p>"No, I do not," replied the inspector. "I did not understand it in +that light. I certainly was told that his lordship had said he would +not have the case officially inquired into, but I understood that he +was lightheaded when he spoke, not at all conscious of what he was +saying."</p> + +<p>"From whom, then, did you receive your instructions, Mr. Poole?"</p> + +<p>"From Dr. Macferraty," was the ready answer. "He called in at the +station this evening."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Arnold Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"It would be a grave mistake, he said,<span class="pagenum">[31]</span> if so monstrous a thing—they +were the doctors own words—should be left uninvestigated, because his +lordship was off his head," added the inspector. "May I ask, sir, if +you entertain any suspicion—in any quarter?"</p> + +<p>"Not any," decisively replied Mr. Ravensworth. "The whole thing is to +me most mysterious."</p> + +<p>The speakers looked at one another. Mr. Poole was deliberating whether +he should give a hint of what Jekyl had said about Lady Level. But he +was saved the trouble.</p> + +<p>"I understand, through overhearing a word or two, that your men have +been wondering whether the culprit could have been Lady Level," spoke +Mr. Ravensworth in low tones. "The very idea is monstrous: you have +but now used the right word. <i>Believe me</i>, she is innocent as a child. +But she is most terribly frightened."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought it very unlikely," admitted the inspector.</p> + +<p>"But it seems," slowly continued Mr.<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> Ravensworth, weighing well his +words, "that she caught sight at the time, or thought she caught +sight, of a figure curiously attired in white flannel, who dropped, or +flung, the knife down in her chamber. Lord Level says it was not white +flannel, but light fustian, such as a countryman might wear. According +to that, he must also have seen the individual. The difficulty, +however, is, to know whether his lordship is speaking in his senses or +out of them."</p> + +<p>"Someone must have got in, then, after all; in spite of the doors +being found as they were left."</p> + +<p>"I think so. I cannot see any other loophole for suspicion to fall +back upon. Concealed himself in the house probably beforehand. And, +for all we know, may be concealed in it still. I gathered an +impression while Lady Level was talking to me that it might really be +some escaped madman. All the same, Lord Level persists in forbidding +the matter to be investigated."</p> + +<p>Keen and practical, the officer revolved<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> what he heard. The story was +a curious one altogether, and as yet he did not see his way in it.</p> + +<p>"I think, sir," he said with deliberation, "that I shall take the +affair into my hands, and act, in the uncertain state of his +lordship's mind, upon my own responsibility. First of all, we will +just go through the house."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth went with him: they two together. After a thorough +search, nothing wrong could they find or discover. The servants and +the two policemen remained below; Mrs. Edwards was in close attendance +upon his lordship; and the steward, who appeared most exceedingly to +resent the presence of these police in the house, had shut himself +into his rooms.</p> + +<p>In the course of time, the inspector and Mr. Ravensworth approached +these rooms. Passing Lord Level's chamber with soft footsteps, they +traversed the passages beyond it, until they found themselves stopped +by a door, which was fastened.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[34]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Poole shook it. "It must lead to some of the remote rooms," he +observed, "and they are uninhabited. Just the spot for an assassin to +conceal himself in—or to try to do so."</p> + +<p>"I think these may be the steward's apartments," spoke Arnold +Ravensworth doubtingly. "I remember Lady Level said they were only +divided from his lordship's chamber by a passage or two."</p> + +<p>Whose ever rooms they were, no one came to the door in answer to the +summons, and the inspector knocked again.</p> + +<p>This time it brought forth Mr. Drewitt. They heard him draw a chain, +and then he opened the door a few inches, as far as the chain +permitted him.</p> + +<p>"Will you let us in, Mr. Drewitt? I must search these rooms."</p> + +<p>"Search for what?" asked the old man. "It's you, is it, Poole! I +cannot have my rooms searched. This morning, after the alarm, I went +over them, to be quite sure, and that's sufficient."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[35]</span></p> + +<p>"Allow me to search for myself," returned the officer.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," answered the steward, with dignity. "No one shall come in +to search these rooms in opposition to the wish of my lord. His orders +to me were that the affair should be allowed to drop, and I for one +will not disobey him, or give help to those who would. His lordship +believed that whoever it might be that attacked him came in and went +out again. The country might be hunted over, he said, but not his +house."</p> + +<p>"I must enter here," was all the answer reiterated by the officer.</p> + +<p>"It shall be over my body, then," returned the steward, with emotion. +"My lord forbade a search, and you have no right whatever to proceed +with it."</p> + +<p>"My good man, I am a police inspector."</p> + +<p>"You may be inspector-general for all I care," retorted the old +gentleman, "but you don't come in here. Get my lord's authority<span class="pagenum">[36]</span> +first, and then you will be welcome. As to reminding me who you are, +Mr. Poole, you must know that to be superfluous. And I beg <i>your</i> +pardon, sir," he added, addressing Mr. Ravensworth, "but I would +inquire what authority you hold from my lord, that you, a stranger, +should set at naught his expressed wishes?"</p> + +<p>The door was shut and bolted in their faces, and the inspector leaned +against the wall in thought. "Did you notice his agitation?" he +whispered to Mr. Ravensworth. "There's more in this than meets the +eye."</p> + +<p>It certainly wore that appearance. However, for the present they were +foiled, and the steward remained master of the position. To attempt to +enter those rooms by force would create noise and commotion in the +house that might be disastrous to the health of Lord Level.</p> + +<p>"There's <i>something</i> in those rooms that has to be concealed," spoke +the astute inspector. "If it be the man who attacked Lord Level——"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[37]</span></p> + +<p>"But the steward, devoted as he is to his master, would not harbour +<i>him</i>," impulsively interrupted Arnold Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"True. Unless—unless, mind you, there exists some cause, which we +cannot even guess at, for his lordship's shielding him," said the +inspector. "I must say I should like to get into the rooms."</p> + +<p>"There is no other way of doing it; no other entrance."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that, sir. Unless I am mistaken, these rooms communicate +direct with the East Wing. By getting into that, we might find an +unsuspected entrance."</p> + +<p>He made his way downstairs in silence, musing as he went. At the foot +of the staircase he encountered Deborah.</p> + +<p>"Which are the passages in this lower part of the house that lead to +the East Wing?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Not any of them, sir," answered Deborah promptly. "At least, not any +that are ever opened. At the end of the stone passage there's a heavy +door, barred and bolted, that<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> leads to other passages, I believe, and +to other heavy bolted doors, and they lead into the East Wing. That's +what I have heard say. The only entrance in use is the one through Mr. +Drewitt's rooms."</p> + +<p>Opposition seemed only to strengthen the will of Mr. Inspector Poole. +"Into the rooms I mean to make my way," he said to Mr. Ravensworth, as +he retraced his steps up the staircase. "Could you not," he hastily +added, "get Lady Level to bring her authority to bear upon old +Drewitt?"</p> + +<p>It was the appearance of Lady Level that probably induced the thought. +She, looking pale, haggard and uneasy, was peeping down at them, and +did not escape in time.</p> + +<p>Arnold Ravensworth somewhat hesitatingly acceded. They wished to speak +to Mr. Drewitt—he put it to her in that way—but he had bolted +himself into his rooms; would she use her authority and bid him admit +them?</p> + +<p>She complied at once, unsuspiciously. Of all parts of the house, that +occupied by the<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> steward must be most free from concealment. And she +went with them to the barred-up door.</p> + +<p>The steward did not presume to dispute Lady Level's mandate, which she +gave somewhat imperiously. She entered with them. They found +themselves in the old gentleman's sitting-room, and he placed chairs +for them. "We have not come to sit down," said Mr. Poole; and he +passed into the other rooms in rapid succession: the two bed-chambers +and the unoccupied room that had nothing in it but a few trunks. A +very cursory inspection convinced him that no person was being +harboured there.</p> + +<p>"Why could you not have admitted us just now, Mr. Drewitt?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Because you brought not the authority of either my lord or my lady," +answered the faithful old retainer.</p> + +<p>The inspector strode to the end of the passage and stood before the +oaken door already spoken of, examining its heavy fastenings. The +others had followed him.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[40]</span></p> + +<p>"This must be the door communicating between the house and the East +Wing," he remarked. "Will you open it, Mr. Drewitt?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I will not."</p> + +<p>"But we must have it opened," interposed Arnold Ravensworth. "The fact +is, we have some reason to fear the midnight assassin may yet be +hiding himself on the premises. He does not appear to be in the house, +so he may be in the East Wing—and we mean to search it."</p> + +<p>"Are you an enemy of my lord's?" returned the old man, greatly +agitated.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I would rather be his friend. I have been the friend, +if I may so express it, of Lady Level since she was a child, and I +must see that she is protected, her husband being for the time laid +aside."</p> + +<p>"My lady," called out the old man, visibly trembling, "I appeal to +you, as my lord's second self, to forbid these gentlemen from +attempting to enter the East Wing."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[41]</span></p> + +<p>"Be firm, Blanche," whispered Mr. Ravensworth, as she came forward. +"We must search the East Wing, and it is for your sake."</p> + +<p>She turned to the steward. "I am sure that they are acting for the +best. Open the door."</p> + +<p>For one moment the old man hesitated, and then wrung his hands. "That +I should be forced to disobey the wife of my lord! My lady, I crave +your pardon, but I will not open these rooms unless I have the express +authority of his lordship to do so."</p> + +<p>"But I wish it done, Mr. Drewitt," she said, blushing hotly.</p> + +<p>Police inspectors have generally the means of carrying out their own +will. Mr. Poole, after critically regarding the fastenings, produced +one or two small instruments from his pockets and a bunch of keys. As +he was putting one of the keys into the lock for the purpose of trying +whether it would fit it, a curious revulsion came over Lady Level.<span class="pagenum">[42]</span> +Possibly the piteous, beseeching countenance of the steward induced +it. "He <i>is</i> my husband, after all," she whispered to her own heart.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she said aloud, pushing the key downwards. "I may not have the +right to sanction this in opposition to the wish of Lord Level. He has +forbidden any search to be made, and I must do the same."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. The inspector gazed at her.</p> + +<p>"When his lordship shall be sufficiently recovered to see you, sir, +you can take instructions from him if he sees well to give them," she +added to the officer civilly. "Until then, I must act for him, and I +forbid——"</p> + +<p>"Highty-tighty, and what's the matter here?" broke in a hearty voice +behind them, at which they all turned in surprise. Making his way +along the passage was a portly, but rather short man of sixty years, +with an intellectual brow and benevolent countenance, a red face and a +bald head. The change in<span class="pagenum">[43]</span> Mr. Drewitt's look was remarkable; its +piteousness had changed to radiance.</p> + +<p>The new-comer shook hands with him. Then he turned and affably shook +hands with the inspector, speaking gaily. "You look as if you had the +business of all the world on your shoulders, Poole."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen my lord, Mr. Hill?" asked the steward.</p> + +<p>"I got back home to-night and came on here at once, hearing of the +hubbub you are in, and I have seen my lord for a few minutes. And this +is my lady—and a very charming lady I am sure she is," he added, +bowing to Lady Level with an irresistible smile. "Will she shake hands +with the old man who has been doctor-in-ordinary to her lord's family +for ages and ages?"</p> + +<p>Blanche put her hand into his. She, as she was wont sometimes to tell +him in days to come, fell in love with him at once.</p> + +<p>"What a blessing that you are back again!" murmured the good old +steward.</p> + +<p>"Ay," assented Mr. Hill, perhaps purposely<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> misinterpreting the +remark: "we will have Lord Level up and about in no time now.—Mr. +Poole, I want a private word with you."</p> + +<p>The doctor drew him into the steward's sitting-room, and closed the +door. The conference did not last more than a minute or two, but it +was very effectual. For when Mr. Inspector Poole came forth, he +announced his decision of withdrawing all search at present. To be +resumed if necessary, he added, when his lordship should have +recovered sufficiently to give his own orders.</p> + +<p>The only one who did not appear to be altogether satisfied with this +summary check was Arnold Ravensworth. He did not understand it. Upon +some remark being made as to Lady Level's safety from any attack by +the midnight villain, Mr. Hill at once told her <i>he</i> would guarantee +that. And though he spoke with a laugh, as if making light of the +matter, there was an assurance in his eye and tone that she might +implicitly trust to.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> + +<p>"Then—as it seems I cannot be of any further use to you to-night, and +as I may just catch the midnight up-train, I will wish you good-bye, +Lady Level," said Mr. Ravensworth. "I am easy about you, now Mr. Hill +is here. But be sure to write for me if you think I can be of service +to you or to Lord Level."</p> + +<p>"I will, I will," she answered. "Thank you, Arnold, for coming."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Marshdale House returned to its usual monotony, and a day or two went +on. Nothing more was seen or heard of the unknown individual who had +so disturbed its peace; the very mention of it was avoided. +Nevertheless, Blanche, turning matters over in her mind, could only +look at it and at that detestable East Wing with an increased sense of +mystery. "But for knowing that someone was there who might not be +disclosed to the honest light of day, why should he have forbidden the +search?" ran the argument that she was for<span class="pagenum">[46]</span> ever holding with herself; +and she steeled her heart yet more against her husband.</p> + +<p>On this, the second afternoon after the commotion, she was sitting +reading a newspaper in the garden, where the sun was shining hotly, +when Mr. Hill, who had been up with Lord Level, appeared.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the doctor cheerily, halting before her, "he is a great +deal better, and the knee's ever so much stronger. I shall have him up +to-morrow. And in a couple of days after that he may venture to travel +to town, as he is so anxious to get there."</p> + +<p>"Your treatment seems to agree with him better than Dr. Macferraty's +did," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Ay: I know his constitution, you see. Good-day, Lady Level. I shall +be in again to-night."</p> + +<p>Soon after the doctor went out, there was heard a shrill whistle at +the gate, together with a kicking about of gravel by a pair of rough +boots. Lady Level looked up, and saw the boy from the station bringing +in a parcel.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[47]</span></p> + +<p>"Well, Sam," said she, as the lad approached. "What have you come +for?"</p> + +<p>"They sent me on with this here parcel—and precious heavy he is for +his size," replied Sam Doughty, as without ceremony he tumbled the +parcel on to the bench by Lady Level's side. It was addressed to her, +and she knew that it contained some books which Mr. Ravensworth had +promised to send down. "Come down by the mid-day train," curtly added +the boy for her information.</p> + +<p>"Do you get paid for delivering parcels, Sam?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Me</i> get paid!" returned the youth, with intense aggravation; "no +such luck. Unless," added he, a happy thought striking him, "anybody +likes to give me something for myself—knowing how weighty they be, +and what a lug it is for one's arms."</p> + +<p>"This parcel is not at all heavy," said Lady Level.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he is, then, for his size. You should lift, though, what I +have to drag<span class="pagenum">[48]</span> along sometimes. Why, yesterday that ever was, I brought +a parcel as big as a house to the next door; one that come from Lunnon +by the mid-day train just as this'n did; and Mother Snow she never +gave me nothing but a jam tart, no bigger nor the round o' your hand. +She were taking a tray on 'em out o' the oven."</p> + +<p>"Jam tarts for <i>her</i> delectation!" was the thought that flashed +through Lady Level's mind. "Who was the parcel for, Sam?" she asked +aloud.</p> + +<p>"'Twere directed to Mrs. Snow."</p> + +<p>"Oh. Not to that lady who is staying there?"</p> + +<p>"What lady be that?" questioned Sam.</p> + +<p>"The one you told me about. The lady with the long gold earrings."</p> + +<p>Sam's stolid countenance assumed a look of doubt, as if he did not +altogether understand. His eyes grew wider.</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> un! Her bain't there now, her bain't. Her didn't stop. Her +went right away again the next day after she come."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p> + +<p>"<i>Did</i> she?" exclaimed Lady Level, taken by surprise. "Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Be I sure as that's a newspaper in your hand?" retorted Sam. "In +course I be sure. The fly were ordered down here for her the next +morning, and she come on to the station in it, Mr. Snow a sitting +outside."</p> + +<p>"She went back to London, then!"</p> + +<p>"She went just t'other way," contradicted the boy. "Right on by the +down-train. Dover her ticket were took for."</p> + +<p>Lady Level fell into a passing reverie. All the conjectures she had +been indulging in lately—whither had they flown? At that moment Mrs. +Edwards, having seen the boy from the house, came out to ask what he +wanted. Sam put on his best behaviour instantly. The respect he failed +to show to the young lady was in full force before Mrs. Edwards.</p> + +<p>"I come to bring this here parcel, please, ma'am, for Lady Level," +said he, touching his old cap.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Edwards.<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> "I'll carry it indoors, my lady," +she added, taking it up. "You need not wait, Sam."</p> + +<p>Lady Level slipped a sixpence into his ready hand, and he went off +contented. Mrs. Edwards carried away the parcel.</p> + +<p>Presently Lady Level followed, her mind busy as she went upstairs. She +was taking some contrition to herself. What if—if it was all, or a +great deal of it, only her imagination—that her husband was not the +disloyal man she had deemed him?</p> + +<p>His chamber door was closed; she passed it and went into her own. Then +she opened the door separating the rooms and peeped in. He was lying +upon the bed, partly dressed, and wrapped in a warm dressing-gown; his +face was turned to the pillow, and he was apparently asleep.</p> + +<p>She stole up and stood looking at him. Not a trace of fever lingered +in his face now; his fine features looked wan and delicate. Her love +for him was making itself heard just then. Cautiously she stooped to +imprint<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> a soft, silent kiss upon his cheek; and then another.</p> + +<p>She would have lifted her face then, and found she could not do so. +His arm was round her in a trice, holding it there; his beautiful gray +eyes had opened and were fixed on hers.</p> + +<p>"So you care for me a little bit yet, Blanche," he fondly whispered. +"Better this than calling me hard names."</p> + +<p>She burst into tears. "I should care for you always, Archibald, +if—if—I were sure you cared for me."</p> + +<p>"You may be very sure of <i>that</i>," he emphatically answered. "Let there +be peace between us, at any rate, my dear wife. The clouds will pass +away in time."</p> + +<p>On the Monday morning following, Lord and Lady Level departed for +London. The peace, patched up between them, being honestly genuine and +hopeful on his lordship's part, but doubtful on that of my lady.</p> + +<p>Still nothing had been said or done to lift the mystery which hung +about Marshdale.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[52]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i005a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="h3">ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-w.jpg" width="82" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">W</span>E</b> go on now to the following year: and I, Charles Strange, take up +the narrative again.</p> + +<hr class="tb clearboth" /> + +<p>It has been said that the two rooms on the ground-floor of our house +in Essex Street were chiefly given over to the clerks. I had a desk in +the front office; the same desk that I had occupied as a boy; and I +frequently sat at it now. Mr. Lennard's desk stood opposite to mine. +On the first floor the large front room was furnished as a +sitting-room. It was called Mr. Brightman's room, and there he +received his<span class="pagenum">[53]</span> clients. The back room was called my room; but Mr. +Brightman had a desk in it, and I had another. His desk stood in the +middle of the room before the hearthrug; mine was under the window.</p> + +<p>One fine Saturday afternoon in February, when it was getting near five +o'clock, I was writing busily at my desk in this latter room, when Mr. +Brightman came in.</p> + +<p>"Rather dark for you, is it not, Charles?" he remarked, as he stirred +the fire and sat down in his arm-chair beside it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but I have almost finished."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow?" he presently +asked, when I was putting up my parchments.</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular, sir." I could not help sometimes retaining my +old way of addressing him, as from clerk to master. "Last Sunday I was +with my uncle Stillingfar."</p> + +<p>"Then you may as well come down to Clapham and dine with me. Mrs. +Brightman is away for a day or two, and I shall be alone. Come in time +for service."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[54]</span></p> + +<p>I promised, and drew a chair to the fire, ready to talk with Mr. +Brightman. He liked a little chat with me at times when the day's work +was over. It turned now on Lord Level, from whom I had heard that +morning. We were not his usual solicitors, but were doing a little +matter of business for him. He and Blanche had been abroad since the +previous November (when they had come up together from Marshdale), and +had now been in Paris for about a month.</p> + +<p>"Do they still get on pretty well?" asked Mr. Brightman: for he knew +that there had been differences between them.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well," I answered, rather hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>And, in truth, it was only pretty well, so far as I was able to form a +judgment. During this sojourn of theirs in Paris I had spent a few +days there with a client, and saw Blanche two or three times. That she +was living in a state of haughty resentment against her husband was +indisputable.<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> Why or wherefore, I knew not. She dropped a mysterious +word to me now and then, of which I could make nothing.</p> + +<p>While Mr. Brightman was saying this, a clerk came in, handed a letter +to him and retired.</p> + +<p>"What a nuisance!" cried he, as he read it by fire-light. I looked up +at the exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Sir Edmund Clavering's coming to town this evening, and wants me to +be here to see him!" he explained. "I can't go home to dinner now."</p> + +<p>"Which train is he coming by?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"One that is due at Euston Square at six o'clock," replied Mr. +Brightman, referring to the letter. "I wanted to be home early this +evening."</p> + +<p>"You are not obliged to wait, sir," I said. I wished to my heart +later—oh, how I wished it!—that he had not waited!</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must, Charles. He is a good client, and easily takes +offence. Recollect<span class="pagenum">[56]</span> that breeze we had with him three or four months +ago."</p> + +<p>The clocks struck five as he spoke, and we heard the clerks leaving as +usual. I have already stated that no difference was made in the +working hours on Saturdays in those days. Afterwards, Mr. Lennard came +up to ask whether there was anything more to be done.</p> + +<p>"Not now," replied Mr. Brightman. "But I tell you what, Lennard," he +added, as a thought seemed to occur to him, "you may as well look in +again to-night, about half-past seven or eight, if it won't +inconvenience you. Sir Edmund Clavering is coming up; I conclude it is +for something special; and I may have instructions to give for Monday +morning."</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied Lennard. "I will come."</p> + +<p>He went out as he spoke; a spare, gentlemanly man, with a fair +complexion and thin, careworn face. Edgar Lennard was a man<span class="pagenum">[57]</span> of few +words, but attentive and always at his post, a most efficient +superintendent of the office and of the clerks in general.</p> + +<p>He left and Mr. Brightman rose, saying he would go and get some dinner +at the Rainbow. I suggested that he should share my modest steak, +adding that Leah could as easily send up enough for two as for one: +but he preferred to go out. I rang the bell as I heard him close the +frontdoor. Watts answered it, and lighted the gas.</p> + +<p>"Tell your wife to prepare my dinner at once," I said to him; "or as +soon as possible: Mr. Brightman is coming back to-night. You are going +out, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, about that business. Mr. Lennard said I had better go as +soon as I had had my tea."</p> + +<p>"All right. It will take you two or three hours to get there and back +again. See to the fire in the next room; it is to be kept up. And, +Watts, tell Leah not to trouble about vegetables to-day: I can't wait +for them."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[58]</span></p> + +<p>In about twenty minutes Leah and the steak appeared. I could not help +looking at her as she placed the tray on the table and settled the +dishes. Thin, haggard, untidy, Leah presented a strange contrast to +the trim, well-dressed upper servant I had known at White Littleham +Rectory. It was Watts who generally waited upon me. When Leah knew +beforehand that she would have to wait, she put herself straight. +Today she had not known. My proper sitting-room upstairs was not much +used in winter. This one was warm and comfortable, with the large fire +kept in it all day, so I generally remained in it. I was not troubled +with clients after office hours.</p> + +<p>"I wonder you go such a figure, Leah!" I could not help saying so.</p> + +<p>"It is cleaning-day, Mr. Charles. And I did not know I should have to +come up here. Watts has just gone out."</p> + +<p>"It is a strange thing to me that you cannot get a woman in to help +you. I have said so before."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, nobody knows where the shoe pinches but he who wears it."</p> + +<p>With this remark, unintelligible as apropos to the question, and a +deep sigh, Leah withdrew. I had finished dinner, and the tray was +taken away before Mr. Brightman returned.</p> + +<p>"Now I hope Sir Edmund will be punctual," he cried, as we sat +together, talking over a glass of sherry. "It is half-past six: time +he was here."</p> + +<p>"And there he is!" I exclaimed, as a ring and a knock that shook the +house resounded in our ears. After five o'clock the front door was +always closed.</p> + +<p>Watts being out, we heard Leah answer the door in her charming +costume. But clients pay little attention to the attire of laundresses +in chambers.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! Can Sir Edmund have taken too much!" uttered Mr. +Brightman, halting as he was about to enter the other room to receive +him. Loud sounds in a man's voice arose from the passage; singing,<span class="pagenum">[60]</span> +laughing, joking with Leah. "Open the door, Charles."</p> + +<p>I had already opened it, and saw, not Sir Edmund Clavering, but the +young country client, George Coney, the son of a substantial and +respectable yeoman in Gloucestershire. He appeared to be in exalted +spirits, and had a little exceeded, but was very far from being +intoxicated.</p> + +<p>"What, is Mr. Brightman here? I only expected to see you," cried he, +shaking hands with both. "Look here!" holding out a small canvas bag, +and rattling it. "What does that sound like?"</p> + +<p>"It sounds like gold," said Mr. Brightman.</p> + +<p>"Right, Mr. Brightman; thirty golden sovereigns: and I am as delighted +with them as if they were thirty hundred," said he, opening the bag +and displaying its contents. "Last week I got swindled out of a horse +down at home. Thirty pounds I sold him for, and he and the purchaser +disappeared and forgot to pay. My father went on at<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> me, like our old +mill clacking; not so much for the loss of the thirty pounds, as at my +being done: and all the farmers round about clacked at me, like so +many more mills. Pleasant, that, for a fellow, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Very," said Mr. Brightman, while I laughed.</p> + +<p>"I did not care to stand it," went on George Coney. "I obtained a bit +of a clue, and the day before yesterday I came up to London—and I +have met with luck. This afternoon I dropped across the very chap, +where I had waited for him since the morning. He was going into a +public-house, and another with him, and I pinned them in the room, +with a policeman outside, and he pretty soon shelled out the thirty +pounds, rather than be taken. That's luck, I hope." He opened the bag +as he spoke, and displayed the gold.</p> + +<p>"Remarkable luck, to get the money," observed Mr. Brightman.</p> + +<p>"I expect they had been in luck themselves," continued young Coney, +"for they<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> had more gold with them, and several notes. They were for +paying me in notes, but 'No, thank ye,' said I, 'I know good gold when +I see it, and I'll take it in that.'"</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have been so fortunate," said Mr. Brightman. "When do +you return home?"</p> + +<p>"I did mean to go to-night, and I called to leave with you this small +deed that my father said I might as well bring up with me, as I was +coming"—producing a thin folded parchment from his capacious +pocketbook. "But I began thinking, as I came along, that I might as +well have a bit of a spree now I am here, and go down by Monday +night's train," added the young man, tying up the bag again, and +slipping it into his pocket. "I shall go to a theatre to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not with that bag of gold about you?" said Mr. Brightman.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Because you would have no trace of it left to-morrow +morning."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[63]</span></p> + +<p>George Coney laughed good-humouredly. "I can take care of myself, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so; but you can't take care of the gold. Come, hand it over +to me. Your father will thank me for being determined, and you also, +Mr. George, when you have cooled down from the seductions of London."</p> + +<p>"I may want to spend some of it," returned George Coney. "Let's see +how much I have," cried he, turning the loose money out of his +pockets. "Four pounds, seven shillings, and a few halfpence," he +concluded, counting it up.</p> + +<p>"A great deal too much to squander or lose in one night," remarked Mr. +Brightman. "Here," added he, unlocking a deep drawer in his desk, "put +your bag in here, and come for it on Monday."</p> + +<p>George Coney drew the bag from his pocket, but not without a few +remonstrative shakes of the head, and put it in the drawer. Mr. +Brightman locked it, and restored the bunch of keys to his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You are worse than my father is," cried<span class="pagenum">[64]</span> George Coney, half in jest, +half vexed at having yielded. "I wouldn't be as close and stingy for +anything."</p> + +<p>"In telling this story twenty years hence, Mr. George, you will say, +What a simpleton I should have made of myself, if that cautious old +lawyer Brightman had not been close and stingy!"</p> + +<p>George Coney winked at me and laughed. "Perhaps he's right, after +all."</p> + +<p>"I know I am," said Mr. Brightman. "Will you take a glass of sherry?"</p> + +<p>"Well; no, I think I had better not. I have had almost enough already, +and I want to carry clear eyes with me to the play. What time does it +begin?"</p> + +<p>"About seven, I think; but I am not a theatre-goer myself. Strange can +tell you."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be off," said he, shaking hands with us, as only a +hearty country yeoman knows how to.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely gone when Sir Edmund Clavering's knock was heard. Mr. +Brightman went with him into the front room, and<span class="pagenum">[65]</span> I sat reading the +<i>Times</i>. Leah, by the way, had made herself presentable, and looked +tidy enough in a clean white cap and apron.</p> + +<p>Sir Edmund did not stay long: he left about seven. I heard Mr. +Brightman go back after showing him out, and rake the fire out of the +grate—he was always timidly cautious about fire—and then he returned +to my room.</p> + +<p>"No wonder Sir Edmund wanted to see me," cried he. "There's the deuce +of a piece of work down at his place. His cousin wants to dispute the +will and to turn him out. They have been serving notices on the +tenants not to pay the rent."</p> + +<p>"What a curious woman she must be!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Brightman smiled slightly, but made no answer.</p> + +<p>"He did not stay long, sir."</p> + +<p>"No, he is going out to dinner."</p> + +<p>As Mr. Brightman spoke, he turned up the gas, drew his chair to the +desk and sat down, his back then being towards the fire. "I must look +over these letters and copies of notices which Sir Edmund brought +with<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> him, and has left with me," he remarked. "I don't care to go +home directly."</p> + +<p>The next minute he was absorbed in the papers. I put down the <i>Times</i>, +and rose. "You do not want me, I suppose, Mr. Brightman," I said. "I +promised Arthur Lake to go to his chambers for an hour."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you, Charles. Mind you are not late in coming down to me +to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>So I wished him good-night and departed. Arthur Lake, a full-fledged +barrister now of the Middle Temple, rented a couple of rooms in one of +the courts. His papers were in one room, his bed in the other. He was +a steady fellow, as he always had been, working hard and likely to get +on. We passed many of our evenings together over a quiet chat and a +cigar, I going round to him, or he coming in to me. He had grown up a +little, dandified sort of man, good-humouredly insolent as ever when +the fit took him: but sterling at heart.</p> + +<p>Lake was sitting at the fire waiting for<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> me, and began to grumble at +my being late. I mentioned what had hindered me.</p> + +<p>"And I have forgotten my cigar-case!" I exclaimed as I sat down. "I +had filled it, all ready, and left it on the table."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Lake. "I laid in a parcel to-day."</p> + +<p>But I did mind, for Lake's "parcels" were never good. He would buy his +cigars so dreadfully strong. Nothing pleased him but those +full-flavoured Lopez, whilst I liked mild Cabanas: so, generally +speaking, I kept to my own. However, I took one, and we sat, talking +and smoking. I smoked it out, abominable though it was, and took +another; but I couldn't stand a second.</p> + +<p>"Lake, I cannot smoke your cigars," I said, flinging it into the fire. +"You know I never can. I must run and fetch my own. There goes eight +o'clock."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with them?" asked Lake: his usual question.</p> + +<p>"Everything; they are bad all over. I shall be back in a trice."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[68]</span></p> + +<p>I went the quickest way, through the passages, which brought me into +Essex Street, and had my latch-key ready to open the door with as I +approached the house. There were three of these latchkeys. I had one; +Lennard another, for it sometimes happened that he had to come in +before or after business hours; and Leah had possession of the third. +But I had no use for mine now, for the door was open. A policeman, +standing by the area railings, recognised me, and wished me +good-evening.</p> + +<p>'Whose carelessness is this?' thought I, advancing to the top of the +kitchen stairs and calling to Leah.</p> + +<p>It appeared useless to call: no Leah made her appearance. I shut the +front door and went upstairs, wondering whether Mr. Brightman had +left.</p> + +<p>Left! I started back as I entered; for there lay Mr. Brightman on the +floor by his desk, as if he had pushed back his chair and fallen from +it.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" I exclaimed,<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> throwing my hat anywhere, and +hastening to raise him. But his head and shoulders were a dead weight +in my arms, and there was an awful look upon his face, as the gaslight +fell upon it. A look, in short, of death, and not of an easy death.</p> + +<p>My pulses beat quicker, man though I was, and my heart beat with them. +Was I alone in that large house with the dead? I let him fall again +and rang the bell violently. I rushed to the door and shouted over the +banisters for Leah; and just as I was leaping down for the policeman I +had seen outside, or any other help that might be at hand, I heard a +latch-key inserted into the lock, and Lennard came in with Dr. +Dickenson. I knew him well, for he had attended Miss Methold in the +days gone by.</p> + +<p>As he hastened to Mr. Brightman, Lennard turned to me, speaking in a +whisper:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strange, how did it happen? Was he ill?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it, Lennard. I came in a minute ago, and found +him lying<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> here. What do you know? Had you been here before?"</p> + +<p>"I came, as Mr. Brightman had directed," he replied. "It was a little +before eight; and when I got upstairs he was lying there as you see. I +tried to rouse him, but could not, and I went off for the doctor."</p> + +<p>"Did you leave the front door open?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I did, in my flurry and haste. I thought of it as I ran up +the street, but would not lose time in going back to shut it."</p> + +<p>"He is gone, Mr. Strange," said Dr. Dickenson, advancing towards me, +for I and Lennard had stood near the door. "It is a case of sudden +death."</p> + +<p>I sat down, bewildered. I could not believe it. How awfully sudden! +"Is it apoplexy?" I asked, lifting my head.</p> + +<p>"No, I should say not."</p> + +<p>"Then what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell; it may be the heart."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure he is dead? Beyond all hope?"</p> + +<p>"He is indeed."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p> + +<p>A disagreeable doubt rushed over my mind, and I spoke on the impulse +of the moment. "Has he come by his death fairly?"</p> + +<p>The surgeon paused before he answered. "I see no reason, as yet, to +infer otherwise. There are no signs of violence about him."</p> + +<p>I cannot describe my feelings as we stood looking down at him. Never +had I felt so before. What was I to do next?—how act? A hazy idea was +making itself heard that some weighty responsibility lay upon me.</p> + +<p>Just then a cab dashed up to the door; we heard it all too plainly in +the hushed silence; and someone knocked and rang. Lennard went down to +open it, and I told him to send in the policeman and fetch another +doctor. Looking over the banisters I saw George Coney come in.</p> + +<p>"Such a downfall to my plans, Mr. Strange," he began, seeing me as he +ascended the stairs. "I went round to my inn to brush myself up before +going to the play, and there I found a letter from my<span class="pagenum">[72]</span> father, which +they had forgotten to give me this morning. Our bailiff's been taken +ill, cannot leave his bed, and father writes that I had better let the +horse and the thirty pounds go for a bad job, and come home, for he +can't have me away longer. So my spree's done for, this time, and I am +on my way to the station, to catch the nine o'clock train."</p> + +<p>"Don't go in until you have heard what is there," I whispered, as he +was entering the room. "Mr. Brightman, whom you left well, is lying on +the floor, and——"</p> + +<p>"And what?" asked young Coney, looking at me.</p> + +<p>"I fear he is dead."</p> + +<p>After a dismayed pause he went gently into the room, taking off his +hat reverently and treading on tiptoe. "Poor fellow! poor gentleman!" +he uttered, after looking at him. "What an awful thing! How was he +taken?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know how. He was alone."</p> + +<p>"What, alone when he was taken! no<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> one to help him!" returned the +young man. "That was hard! What has he died of?"</p> + +<p>"Probably the heart," interposed Dr. Dickenson.</p> + +<p>"Last summer a carter of ours fell down as he was standing near us; my +father was giving him directions about a load of hay, and when we +picked him up he was dead," spoke the young man. "That was the heart, +they said. But he looked calm and quiet, not as Mr. Brightman looks. +He left seven children, poor chap!"</p> + +<p>At that juncture Mr. Lennard returned with the policeman. Another +doctor, he said, would be round directly. After some general +conversation, George Coney looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strange, my time's up. Would it be convenient to give me that +money again? I should like to take it down with me, you see, just to +have the laugh against the old folks at home."</p> + +<p>"I will give it you," I said.</p> + +<p>But for the very life of me, I could not<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> put my hand into the dead +man's pocket. I beckoned to Lennard. "Can you take out his keys?"</p> + +<p>"Let me do it," said Dr. Dickenson, for Lennard did not seem to relish +the task either. "I am more accustomed to death than you are. Which +pocket are they in?"</p> + +<p>"The right-hand pocket of his trousers; he always kept them there," +was my answer.</p> + +<p>Dr. Dickenson found the keys and handed them to me. I unlocked the +drawer, being obliged to bend over the dead to do so, and young Coney +stepped forward to receive the bag.</p> + +<p>But the bag was not there.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[75]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i007a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="h3">LEAH'S STORY.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-o.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">O</span>UR</b> dismayed faces might have formed a study for a painter, as we +stood in my room in Essex Street: the doctor, George Coney, Lennard +and myself. On the floor, between the hearthrug and the desk, lay the +dead man, the blaze of the fire and the gaslights playing on his +features. Mr. Brightman was dead. In my mental pain and emotion I +could not realize the fact; would not believe that it was true. He had +died thus suddenly, no one near him; no one, so far as was yet known, +in the house at the time. And to me, at least, there seemed to be some +mystery attaching to it.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[76]</span></p> + +<p>But, at this particular moment, we were looking for George Coney's +sovereigns, which Mr. Brightman, not much more than an hour before, +had locked up in the deep drawer of his desk, returning the keys to +his pocket. After Dr. Dickenson had handed me the keys I unlocked and +opened the drawer. But the bag was not there.</p> + +<p>If the desk itself had disappeared, I could not have been more +surprised. Lying in the drawer, close to where the bag had been, was a +gold watch belonging to Mrs. Brightman, which had been brought up to +town to be cleaned. That was undisturbed. "Coney," I exclaimed, "the +money is not here."</p> + +<p>"It was put there," replied young Coney. "Next to that watch."</p> + +<p>"I know it was," I answered. I opened the drawer on the other side, +but that was full of papers. I looked about on the desk; then on my +own desk, even unlocking the drawers, though I had had the key in my +own pocket; then on the tables and mantelpiece.<span class="pagenum">[77]</span> Not a trace could I +see of the canvas bag.</p> + +<p>"What bag is it?" inquired Dr. Dickenson, who, of course, had known +nothing of this. "What was in it?"</p> + +<p>"A small canvas bag containing some gold that Mr. George Coney had +wished to leave here until Monday," I answered.</p> + +<p>"'Twas one of our sample barley bags; I happened to have it in my +pocket when I left home," explained the young man. "My father's +initials were on it: S. C."</p> + +<p>"How much was in it?" asked Lennard.</p> + +<p>"Thirty pounds."</p> + +<p>"I fear you will be obliged to go without it, after all," I said, when +I had turned everything over, "for it is not to be found. I will remit +you thirty pounds on Monday. We send our spare cash to the bank on +Saturday afternoons, so that I have not so much in the house: and I +really do not know where Mr. Brightman has put the cheque-book. It is +strange that he should have taken the bag out of the drawer again."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[78]</span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps it may be in one of his pockets," suggested the doctor. +"Shall I search them?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," interposed George Coney. "I wouldn't have the poor gentleman +disturbed just for that. You'll remit it to me, Mr. Strange. Not to my +father," he added, with a smile: "to me."</p> + +<p>I went down with him, and there sat Leah at the bottom of the stairs, +leaning her head against the banisters, almost under the hall lamp. +"When did you come in, Leah?" I asked.</p> + +<p>She rose hastily, and faced me. "I thought you were out, sir. I have +come in only this instant."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" I continued, struck with the white, strange look +upon her face. "Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, not ill. Trouble is the lot of us all."</p> + +<p>I shook hands with George Coney as he got into his cab and departed, +and then returned indoors. Leah was hastening<span class="pagenum">[79]</span> along the passage to +the kitchen stairs. I called her back again. "Leah," I said, "do you +know what has happened to Mr. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," answered she. "What has happened to him?"</p> + +<p>"You must prepare for a shock. He is dead."</p> + +<p>She had a cloth and a plate in her hand, and laid them down on the +slab as she backed against the wall, staring in horror. Then her +features relaxed into a wan smile.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Master Charles, you are thinking to be a boy again to-night, and +are playing a trick upon me, as you used to do in the old days, sir."</p> + +<p>"I wish to my heart it was so, Leah. Mr. Brightman is lying upon the +floor in my room. I fear there can be no doubt that he is dead."</p> + +<p>"My poor master!" she slowly ejaculated. "Heaven have mercy upon +him!—and upon us! Why, it's not more than three-quarters of an hour +since I took up some water to him."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[80]</span></p> + +<p>"Did he ask for it?"</p> + +<p>"He rang the bell, sir, and asked for a decanter of water and a +tumbler."</p> + +<p>"How did he look then, Leah? Where was he sitting?"</p> + +<p>"He was sitting at his table, sir, and he looked as usual, for all I +saw, but his head was bent over something he was reading. I put some +coals on the fire and came away. Mr. Charles, who is up there with +him?"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Dickenson and——"</p> + +<p>A knock at the door interrupted me. It proved to be the other doctor I +had sent for.</p> + +<p>The medical men proceeded to examine Mr. Brightman more closely. I had +sent for the police, and they also were present. I then searched his +pockets, a policeman aiding me, and we put their contents carefully +away. But there was no bag containing gold amongst them. How had it +disappeared?</p> + +<p>A most unhappy circumstance was the fact that I could not send for +Mrs. Brightman, for I did not know where she was. Mr. Brightman<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> had +said she was out of town, but did not say where.</p> + +<p>When Watts came home, I despatched him to the house at Clapham, +allowing him no time to indulge his grief or his curiosity. Leah had +knelt down by Mr. Brightman, tears silently streaming from her eyes.</p> + +<p>The fire in the front room was relighted; the fire, the very coals, +which he, poor man, had so recently taken off; and I, Lennard and +Arthur Lake went in there to talk the matter over quietly.</p> + +<p>"Lennard," I said, "I am not satisfied that he has died a natural +death. I hope——"</p> + +<p>"There are no grounds for any other supposition, Mr. Strange," he +interrupted. "None whatever. <i>Are</i> there?" he added, looking at me.</p> + +<p>"I trust there are none—but I don't quite like the attendant +circumstances of the case. The loss of that bag of money causes all +sorts of unpleasant suspicions to arise. When you came to the house, +Lennard, did you go straight upstairs?" I added, after a pause.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[82]</span></p> + +<p>"No, I went into the front office," replied Lennard. "I thought Sir +Edmund Clavering might still be here."</p> + +<p>"Was Leah out or in?"</p> + +<p>"Leah was standing at the front door, looking—as it seemed to +me—down the steps leading to the Thames. While I was lighting my +candle by the hall-lamp, she shut the front door and came to me. She +was extremely agitated, and——"</p> + +<p>"Agitated?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Lennard; "I could not be mistaken. I stared at her, +wondering what could cause it, and why her face was so white—almost +as white as Mr. Brightman's is now. She asked—as earnestly as if she +were pleading for life—whether I would stop in the house for a few +minutes, as Mr. Brightman had not gone, while she ran out upon an +errand. I inquired whether Sir Edmund Clavering was upstairs, and she +said no; he had left; Mr. Strange was out, and Mr. Brightman was +alone."</p> + +<p>"Did she go out?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[83]</span></p> + +<p>"Immediately," replied Lennard; "just as she was, without bonnet or +shawl. I went up to your room, and tapped at the door. It was not +answered, and I went in. At first I thought the room was empty; but in +a moment I saw Mr. Brightman lying on the ground. He was dead even +then; I am certain of it," added Lennard, pausing from natural +emotion. "I raised his head, and put a little water to his temples, +but I saw that he was dead."</p> + +<p>"It is an awful thing!" exclaimed Lake.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you that I thought so," assented Lennard. "I knew that the +first thing must be to get in a doctor; but how I found my way up the +street to Dickenson's I hardly remember. No wonder I left the front +door open behind me."</p> + +<p>I turned all this over in my mind. There were two points I did not +like—Leah's agitation, and Lennard's carelessness in leaving the door +open. I called in one of the policemen from the other room, for they +were there still, with the medical men.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[84]</span></p> + +<p>"Williams," I began, "you saw me come down the street with my latch-key +in my hand?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir, and wished you good-evening," replied Williams. "It +wasn't long after the other gentleman," indicating Lennard, "had run +out."</p> + +<p>"I did not see you," cried Lennard, looking at him. "I wish I had seen +you. I wanted help, and there was not a soul in the street."</p> + +<p>"I was standing in shadow, at the top of the steps leading to the +water," said the man. "You came out, sir, all in a hurry, and went +rushing up the street, leaving the door open."</p> + +<p>"And it is that door's having been left open that I don't like," I +observed. "If this money does not turn up, I can only think some rogue +got in and took it."</p> + +<p>"Nobody got in, sir," said the policeman. "I had my eye on the door +the whole time till you came down. To see two folk running like mad +out of a quiet and respectable<span class="pagenum">[85]</span> house roused my suspicions; and I went +up to the door and stood near it till you entered."</p> + +<p>"How did you see two running out of it?" I inquired. "There was only +Mr. Lennard."</p> + +<p>"I had seen somebody before that—a woman," replied the officer. "She +came out, and went tearing down the steps towards the river, calling +to someone out of sight. I think it was your servant, Mrs. Watts, but +I was only half-way down the street then, and she was too quick for +me."</p> + +<p>"Then you are quite sure no one entered?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure, sir. I never moved from the door."</p> + +<p>"Setting aside Williams's testimony, there was scarcely time for +anyone to get in and do mischief," observed Lake. "And no one could +take that gold without first getting the keys out of Mr. Brightman's +pocket," he rejoined. "For such a purpose, who would dare rifle the +pockets of the dead?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[86]</span></p> + +<p>"And then replace the keys," added Lennard.</p> + +<p>"Besides," I said impulsively, "no one knew the money was there. Mr. +Brightman, myself, and George Coney were alone cognisant of the fact. +The more one thinks of it, the stranger it seems to grow."</p> + +<p>The moments passed. The doctors and the police had gone away, and +nothing remained but the sad burden in the next room. Lennard also +left me to go home, for there was nothing more to be done; and Arthur +Lake, who had gone round to his rooms, came in again. His conscience +was smiting him, he said, for having deserted me. We sat down in the +front room, as before, and began to discuss the mystery. I remarked, +to begin with, that there existed not the slightest loophole of +suspicion to guide us.</p> + +<p>"Except one," said Lake quietly. "And I may pain you, Charley, if I +venture to suggest it."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" I cried. "How could it pain me? Unless you think I took it +myself!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p> + +<p>"I fancy it was Leah."</p> + +<p>"Leah?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I do. She was the only person in the house, except Mr. +Brightman. And what did her agitation mean—the agitation Lennard has +referred to?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Arthur; it could not have been Leah. Admitting the doubt for +a moment, how could she have done it?"</p> + +<p>"Only in this way. I have been arguing it out with myself in my rooms: +and of course it may be all imagination. Leah took up some water, she +says, that Mr. Brightman rang for. Now, it may be that he had the +drawer open and she saw the money. Or it may even be that, for some +purpose or other, he had the bag upon the table. Was he taken ill +whilst she was in the room? and did she, overcome by temptation, steal +the money? I confess that this possibility presents itself forcibly to +me," concluded Lake. "Naturally she would afterwards be in a state of +agitation."</p> + +<p>I sat revolving what he said, but could<span class="pagenum">[88]</span> not bring my mind to admit +it. Circumstances—especially her agitation—might seem to tell +against her, but I believed the woman to be honest as the day.</p> + +<p>There is not the slightest doubt that almost every man born into the +world is adapted for one especial calling over all others; and it is +an unhappy fact that this peculiar tendency is very rarely discovered +and followed up. It is the misdirection of talent which causes so many +of the failures in life. In my own case this mistake had not occurred. +I believe that of all pursuits common to man, I was by nature most +fitted for that of a solicitor. At the Bar, as a pleader, I should +have failed, and ruined half the clients who entrusted me with briefs. +But for penetration, for seizing without effort the different points +of a case laid before me, few equalled me. I mention this only because +it is a fact: not from motives of self-praise and vanity. Vanity? I am +only thankful that my talents were directed into their proper channel. +And this judgment, exercised now,<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> told me that Leah was not guilty. I +said so to Arthur Lake.</p> + +<p>The return of Watts interrupted us. He had brought back with him Mr. +Brightman's butler, Perry—a respectable, trustworthy man, who had +been long in the family. I shall never forget his emotion as he stood +over his dead master, to whom he was much attached. Mrs. and Miss +Brightman had gone to Hastings for two or three days, he said, and I +determined to go there in the morning and break the sad tidings to +them.</p> + +<p>Sad tidings, indeed; a grievous calamity for us all. That night I +could not sleep, and in the morning I rose unrefreshed. The doubt +about Leah and the money also troubled me. Though in one sense +convinced that she could not have done it, the possibility that she +might be guilty kept presenting itself before me.</p> + +<p>She came into the room while I was at breakfast—earlier than I need +have been, so far as the train was concerned—and I detained her for a +moment.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[90]</span></p> + +<p>Very spruce and neat she looked this morning.</p> + +<p>"Leah," I began, "there is an unpleasant mystery attending this +affair."</p> + +<p>"As to what Mr. Brightman has died of, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I do not allude to that. But there is some money missing."</p> + +<p>"Money!" echoed Leah, in what looked like genuine surprise.</p> + +<p>"Last night, after Mr. Brightman came in from dinner, he put a small +canvas bag, containing thirty pounds in gold, in the deep drawer of +his desk in my room, locked it and put the keys in his pocket. I had +occasion to look for that gold immediately after he was found dead, +and it was gone."</p> + +<p>"Bag and all?" said Leah, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Bag and all."</p> + +<p>"Not stolen, surely?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see how else it can have disappeared. It could not go without +hands; and the question is, did anyone get into the house and take +it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[91]</span></p> + +<p>She looked at me, and I at her: she was apparently thinking. "But how +could anyone get in, sir?" she asked in tones of remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"I do not see how, unless it was when you went out, Leah. You were out +some time, you know. You ran out of the house and down the steps +leading to the river, and you were in great agitation. What did it +mean?"</p> + +<p>Leah threw up her hands in distress. "Oh, Mr. Charles!" she gasped. +"Please don't question me, sir. I cannot tell you anything about +that."</p> + +<p>"I must know it, Leah."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. Her tears had begun to fall.</p> + +<p>"Indeed you must explain it to me," I continued, speaking gently. +"There is no help for it. Don't you see that this will have to be +investigated, and——"</p> + +<p>"You never suspect me of taking the money, sir?" she exclaimed +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"No, I do not," I replied firmly. "It is<span class="pagenum">[92]</span> one thing to be sure of +honesty, and quite another thing to wish mysterious circumstances +cleared up, where the necessity for doing so exists. What was your +mystery last night, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"Must I tell you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed you must. I dare say to tell it will not hurt you, or to hear +it hurt me."</p> + +<p>"I would die rather than Watts should know of it," she exclaimed, in +low, impassioned tones, glancing towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Watts is in the kitchen, Leah, and cannot hear you. Speak out."</p> + +<p>"I never committed but one grave fault in my life," she began, "and +that was telling a deliberate lie. The consequences have clung to me +ever since, and if things go on as they are going on now, they'll just +drive me into the churchyard. When I lived with your people I was a +young widow, as you may remember, sir; but perhaps you did not know +that I had a little child. Your mamma knew it, but I don't think the +servants did, for I was never one to talk of my own affairs.<span class="pagenum">[93]</span> Just +your age, Master Charles, was my little Nancy, and when her father +died his sister took to her; old Miss Williams—for she was a deal +older than him. She had a bit of a farm in Dorsetshire, and I'm afraid +Nancy had to work hard at it. But it failed after a time, and Miss +Williams died; and Nancy, then about seventeen, had come, I heard, to +London. I was at Dover then, not long returned from abroad, and was +just married to James Watts; and I found—I found," Leah dropped her +voice, "that Nancy had gone wrong. Someone had turned her brain with +his vows and his promises, and she had come up to London with him."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you sit down whilst you talk, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"I had told Watts I had no children," she continued, disregarding my +injunction. "And that was the lie, Mr. Charles. More than once he had +said in my hearing that he would never marry a ready-made family. For +very shame I could not tell him, when I found how things were with +Nancy. After<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> we came to London, I searched her out and went to her in +secret, begging her to leave the man, but she would not."</p> + +<p>A burst of emotion stopped Leah. She soon resumed:</p> + +<p>"She would not leave him. In spite of all I could say or do, though I +went down on my knees to her, and sobbed and prayed my heart out, she +remained with him. And she is with him still."</p> + +<p>"All this time?"</p> + +<p>"All this time, sir; seven years. He was once superior to her in +position, but he has fallen from it now, is unsteady, and drinks half +his time away. Sometimes he is in work; oftener without it; and the +misery and privation she goes through no tongue can tell. He beats +her, abuses her——"</p> + +<p>"Why does she not leave him?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, why don't we do many things that we ought? Partly because +she's afraid he would keep the children. There are three of them. Many +a time she would<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> have died of hunger but for me. I help her all I +can; she's my own child. Sir, you asked me, only yesterday, why I went +shabby; but, instead of buying clothes for myself, I scrape and save +to keep her poor body and soul together. I go without food to take it +to her; many a day I put my dinner away, telling Watts I don't feel +inclined for it then and will eat it by-and-by. He thinks I do so. She +does not beg of me; she has never entered this house; she has never +told that tyrant of hers that I am her mother. 'Mother,' she has said +to me, 'never fear. I would rather die than bring trouble on you.'"</p> + +<p>"But about last night?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I was at work in the kitchen when a little gravel was thrown against +the window. I guessed who it was, and went up to the door. If Watts +had been at home, I should have taken no notice, but just have said, +'Drat those street boys again!' or something of that sort. There she +was, leaning against the opposite railings, and she crossed over<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> when +she saw me. She said she was beside herself with misery and trouble, +and I believe she was. He had been beating her, and she had not tasted +food since the previous day; not a crumb. She kept looking towards the +steps leading to the Thames, and I thought she might have got it in +her head, what with her weak condition of body and her misery of mind, +to put an end to herself. I tried, sir, to soothe and reason with her; +what else could I do? I said I would fetch her some food, and give her +sevenpence to buy a loaf to take home to her children."</p> + +<p>"Where does she live?" I interposed.</p> + +<p>"In this parish, St. Clement Danes; and there are some parts of this +parish, you know, sir, as bad as any in London. When I offered to +fetch her food, she said, No, she would not take it; her life was too +wretched to bear, and she should end it; she had come out to do so. It +was just what I feared. I scolded her. I told her to stay there at the +door, and I shut it and ran down for the food. But when I got<span class="pagenum">[97]</span> back to +the door, I couldn't see her anywhere. Then I heard a voice from the +steps call out 'Good-bye!' and I knew she was going to the water. At +that moment Mr. Lennard came up, and I asked him to remain in the +house whilst I went out for a minute. I was almost frightened out of +my senses."</p> + +<p>"Did you find her?"</p> + +<p>"I found her, sir, looking down at the river. I reasoned her into a +little better mood, and she ate a little of the food, and I brought +her back up the steps, gave her the sevenpence, and led her up the +street and across the Strand, on her way home. And that's the whole +truth, Mr. Charles, of what took me out last night; and I declare I +know no more of the missing money than a babe unborn. I had just come +back with the empty plate and cloth when you saw me sitting on the +stairs."</p> + +<p>The whole truth I felt sure it was. Every word, every look of Leah's +proclaimed it.</p> + +<p>"And that's my sad secret," she added;<span class="pagenum">[98]</span> "one I have to bear about with +me at all times, in my work and out of my work. Watts is a good +husband to me, but he prides himself on his respectability, and I +wouldn't have him know that I have deceived him for the universe. I +wouldn't have him know that <i>she</i>, being what she is, was my daughter. +He said he'd treat me to Ashley's Circus last winter, and gave me two +shillings, and I pretended to go. But I gave it to her, poor thing, +and walked about in the cold, looking at the late shops, till it was +time to come home. Watts asked me what I had seen, and I told him such +marvels that he said he'd go the next night himself, for he had never +heard the like, and he supposed it must be a benefit night. You will +not tell him my secret, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, Leah, I will not tell him. It is safe with me."</p> + +<p>With a long drawn sigh she turned to leave the room. But I stopped +her.</p> + +<p>"A moment yet, Leah. Can you remember<span class="pagenum">[99]</span> at what time you took up the +water to Mr. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>"It was some time before the stone came to the window. About ten +minutes, maybe, sir, after you went out. I heard you come downstairs +whistling, and go out."</p> + +<p>"No one came to the house during my absence?"</p> + +<p>"No one at all, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice whether Mr. Brightman had either of the drawers of his +desk open when you took up the water?"</p> + +<p>Leah shook her head. "I can't say, sir," she answered. "I did not +notice one way or the other."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i008.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[100]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i009a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="h3">LADY CLAVERING.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-t.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">T</span>HE</b> people were coming out of the various churches when I reached +Hastings. Going straight to the Queen's Hotel, I asked for Mrs. +Brightman. Perry had said she was staying there. It was, I believe, +the only good hotel in the place in those days. Hatch, Mrs. +Brightman's maid, came to me at once. Her mistress was not yet up, she +said, having a bad headache.</p> + +<p>Hatch and I had become quite confidential friends during these past +years. She was not a whit altered since I first saw her, and to me did +not look a day older. The flaming<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> ringlets adorned her face as usual, +and sky-blue cap-strings flowed behind them this morning. Hatch was +glaringly plain; Hatch had a wonderful tongue, and was ever ready to +exercise it, and Hatch's diction and grammar were unique; +nevertheless, you could not help liking Hatch.</p> + +<p>But to hear that Mrs. Brightman was ill in bed rather checkmated me. I +really did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>"My business with your mistress is of very great importance, Hatch," I +observed. "I ought to see her. I have come down on purpose to see +her."</p> + +<p>"You might see her this afternoon, Mr. Charles; not before," spoke +Hatch decisively. "These headaches is uncommon bad while they last. +Perhaps Miss Annabel would do? She is not here, though; but is staying +with her aunt Lucy."</p> + +<p>"I have brought down bad news, Hatch. I should not like Miss Annabel +to be the first to hear it."</p> + +<p>"Bad news!" repeated Hatch quickly, as<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> she stared at me with her +great green eyes. "Our house ain't burnt down, surely! Is that the +news, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Worse than that, Hatch. It concerns Mr. Brightman."</p> + +<p>Hatch's manner changed in a moment. Her voice became timid. "For +goodness' sake, Mr. Charles! he is not ill, is he?"</p> + +<p>"Worse, Hatch. He is dead," I whispered.</p> + +<p>Hatch backed to a chair and dropped into it: we were in Mrs. +Brightman's sitting-room. "The Lord be good to us!" she exclaimed, in +all reverence. Her red cheeks turned white, her eloquence for once +deserted her.</p> + +<p>I sat down and gave her the details in a few brief words: she was a +confidential, trusted servant, and had lived with her mistress many +years. It affected her even more than I had expected. She wrung her +hands, her tears coursed freely.</p> + +<p>"My poor master—my poor mistress!" she exclaimed. "What on +earth—Mr.<span class="pagenum">[103]</span> Charles, is it <i>sure</i> he is dead? quite dead?" she broke +off to ask.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Hatch, I have told you."</p> + +<p>Presently she got up, and seemed to rally her courage. "Anyway, Mr. +Charles, we shall have to meet this, and deal with it as we best may. +I mean the family, sir, what's left of 'em. And missis must be +told—and, pardon me, sir, but I think I'd best be the one to tell +her. She is so used to me, you see," added Hatch, looking at me +keenly. "She might take it better from me than from you; that is, it +might seem less hard."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I should be only too glad to be spared the task," was my +answer.</p> + +<p>"But you must tell Miss Brightman, sir, and Miss Annabel. Perhaps if +you were to go now, Mr. Charles, while I do the best I can with my +missis, we might be ready for the afternoon train. That, you say, will +be best to travel by——"</p> + +<p>"I said the train would be the best of the trains to-day, Hatch. It is +for Mrs.<span class="pagenum">[104]</span> Brightman to consider whether she will go up to-day or +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, Mr. Charles, that's what I mean. My head's almost +moithered. But I think she is sure to go up to-day."</p> + +<p>Miss Brightman, who was Mr. Brightman's only sister, lived in a +handsome house facing the sea. Annabel visited her a good deal, +staying with her sometimes for weeks together. Mr. Brightman had +sanctioned it, Mrs. Brightman did not object to it.</p> + +<p>Upon reaching the house, the footman said Miss Brightman was not yet +in from church, and ushered me into the drawing-room. Annabel was +there. And really, like Hatch, she was not much altered, except in +height and years, since the day I first saw her, when she had +chattered to me so freely and lent me her favourite book, "The Old +English Baron." She was fourteen then: a graceful, pretty child, with +charming manners; her dark brown eyes, sweet and tender and bright +like her father's, her features delicately carved like<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> her mother's, +a rose-blush on her dimpled cheeks. She was twenty now, and a +graceful, pretty woman. No, not one whit altered.</p> + +<p>She was standing by the fire in her silk attire, just as she had come +in from church, only her bonnet-strings untied. Bonnets were really +bonnets then, and rendered a lovely face all the more attractive. +Annabel's bonnet that day was pink, and its border intermingled, as it +seemed, with the waves of her soft brown hair. She quite started with +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Is it <i>you</i>, Charley!" she exclaimed, coming forward, the sweet +rose-blush deepening and the sweet eyes brightening. "Have you come to +Hastings? Is papa with you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Annabel, he is not with me," I answered gravely, as I clasped her +hand. "I wanted to see Miss Brightman."</p> + +<p>"She will be here directly. She called in to see old Mrs. Day, who is +ill: a great friend of Aunt Lucy's. Did papa——"</p> + +<p>But we were interrupted by the return<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> of Miss Brightman, a small, +fragile woman, with delicate lungs. Annabel left us together.</p> + +<p>How I accomplished my unhappy task I hardly knew. How Miss Brightman +subsequently imparted it to Annabel I did not know at all. It must be +enough to say that we went to London by an afternoon train, bearing +our weight of care. All, except Miss Brightman. Hatch travelled in the +carriage with us.</p> + +<p>In appearance, at any rate, the news had most affected Mrs. Brightman. +Her frame trembled, her pale face and restless hands twitched with +nervousness. Of course, her headache went for something.</p> + +<p>"I have them so very badly," she moaned to me once during the journey. +"They unfit me for everything."</p> + +<p>And, indeed, these headaches of Mrs. Brightman's were nothing new to +me. She had always suffered from them. But of late, that is to say +during the past few months, when by chance I went to Clapham,<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> I more +often than not found her ill and invisible from this distressing pain. +My intimacy with Mrs. Brightman had not made much progress. The same +proud, haughty woman she was when I first saw her, she had remained. +Coldly civil to me, as to others; and that was all that could be said.</p> + +<p>When about half-way up, whilst waiting for an express to pass, or +something of that sort, and we were for some minutes at a standstill, +I told Mrs. Brightman about the missing money belonging to George +Coney.</p> + +<p>"It is of little consequence if it be lost," was her indifferent and +no doubt thoughtless comment. "What is thirty pounds?"</p> + +<p>Little, I knew, to a firm like ours, but the uncertainty it left us in +was a great deal. "Setting aside the mystery attaching to the loss," I +remarked, "there remains a suspicion that we may have a thief about +us; and that is not a pleasant feeling. Other things may go next."</p> + +<p>Upon reaching London we drove to Essex<span class="pagenum">[108]</span> Street. What a painful visit +it was! Even now I cannot bear to think of it. Poor Mrs. Brightman +grew nervously excited. As she looked down upon him, in his +death-stillness, I thought she would have wept her heart away. Annabel +strove to be calm for her mother's sake.</p> + +<p>After some tea, which Leah and Hatch brought up to us, I saw them +safely to Clapham, and then returned home.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Monday morning rose, and its work with it: the immediate work +connected with our painful loss, and the future work that was to fall +upon me. The chief weight and responsibility of the business had +hitherto been his share; now it must be all mine. In the course of the +day I sent a cheque to George Coney.</p> + +<p>An inquest had to be held, and took place early on Tuesday morning. +Mr. Brightman's death was proved, beyond doubt, to have occurred from +natural causes, though not from disease of the heart. He had died<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> by +the visitation of God. But for the disappearance of the money, my +thoughts would never have dwelt on any other issue.</p> + +<p>After it was over, Lennard was standing with me in the front-room, +from which the jury had just gone out, when we fell to talking about +the missing money and its unaccountable loss. It lay heavily upon my +mind. Fathom it I could not, turn it about as I would. Edgar Lennard +was above suspicion, and he was the only one, so far as he and I knew, +who had been in the room after the bag was put there, Leah excepted. +Of her I felt equally certain. Lennard began saying how heartily he +wished he had not been told to come back that night; but I requested +him to be at ease, for he had quite as much reason to suspect me, as I +him.</p> + +<p>"Not quite," answered he, smiling; "considering that you had to make +it good."</p> + +<p>"Well, Lennard, I dare say the mystery will be solved some time or +other. Robberies, like murders, generally come out. The<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> worst is, we +cannot feel assured that other losses may not follow."</p> + +<p>"Not they," returned Lennard, too confidently. "This one has been +enough for us."</p> + +<p>"Did it ever strike you, Lennard, that Mr. Brightman had been in +failing health lately?"</p> + +<p>"Often," emphatically spoke Lennard. "I think he had something on his +mind."</p> + +<p>"On his mind? I should say it was on his health. There were times when +he seemed to have neither energy nor spirits for anything. You don't +know how much business he has of late left to me that he used to do +himself."</p> + +<p>"Well," contended Lennard, "it used to strike me he was not at ease; +that something or other was troubling him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and now that this fatal termination has ensued, we see that the +trouble may have been health," I maintained. "Possibly he knew that +something was dangerously wrong with him."</p> + +<p>"Possibly so," conceded Lennard.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[111]</span></p> + +<p>He was leaving the room for his own, when a clerk met him and said +that Sir Edmund Clavering was asking for Mr. Strange. I bade him show +up Sir Edmund.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brightman had for years been confidential solicitor to Sir Ralph +Clavering, a physician, whose baronetcy was a new one. When Sir Ralph +gave up practice, and retired to an estate he bought in the country, a +Mrs. Clavering, a widow, whose husband had been a distant cousin of +Sir Ralph's, entered it with him as his companion and housekeeper. It +ended in his marrying her, as these companionships so often end, +especially where the man is old, and the woman young, attractive and +wily. Mrs. Clavering was poor, and no doubt played for the stake she +won. The heir-presumptive to Sir Ralph's title was his nephew, Edmund +Clavering, but his fortune he could leave to whom he would.</p> + +<p>Sir Ralph Clavering died—only about ten days before Mr. Brightman's +own death. The funeral took place on the Tuesday—this<span class="pagenum">[112]</span> very day week +of which I am writing. After attending it, Mr. Brightman returned to +the office in the evening. The clerks had left, and he came up to my +room.</p> + +<p>"Take this off my hat, will you, Charles?" he said. "I can't go home +in it, of course: and Mrs. Brightman had a superstition against +hat-scarves going into the house."</p> + +<p>I undid the black silk and laid it on the table. "What am I to do with +it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Anything. Give it to Leah for a Sunday apron. My lady treated us to a +specimen of her temper when the will was read," he added. "She +expected to inherit all, and is not satisfied with the competency left +to her."</p> + +<p>"Who does inherit?" I asked: for Mr. Brightman had never enlightened +me, although I knew that he had made Sir Ralph's will.</p> + +<p>"Edmund Clavering. And quite right that he should do so: the estate +ought to go with the title. Besides, setting aside that consideration, +Sir Edmund is entitled to it<span class="pagenum">[113]</span> quite as much as my lady. More so, I +think. There's the will, Charles; you can read it."</p> + +<p>I glanced over the will, which Mr. Brightman had brought back with +him. Lady Clavering had certainly a competency, but the bulk of the +property was left to Sir Edmund, the inheritor of the title. I was +very much surprised.</p> + +<p>"I thought she would have had it all, Mr. Brightman. Living estranged +as Sir Ralph did from his brother, even refusing to be reconciled when +the latter was dying, the estrangement extended to the son, Edmund, I +certainly thought Lady Clavering would have come in for all. You +thought so too, sir."</p> + +<p>"I did, until I made the will. And at one time it was Sir Ralph's +intention to leave most of it to her. But for certain reasons which +arose, he altered his plans. Sufficient reasons," added Mr. Brightman, +in a marked, emphatic manner. "He imparted them to me when he gave +instructions<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> for his will. <i>I</i> should have left her less."</p> + +<p>"May I know them?"</p> + +<p>"No, Charles. They were told to me in confidence, and they concern +neither you nor me. Is the gas out in the next room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Shall I light it?"</p> + +<p>"It is not worth while. That hand-lamp of yours will do. I only want +to put up the will."</p> + +<p>I took the lamp, and lighted Mr. Brightman into the front room, his +own exclusively. He opened the iron safe, and there deposited Sir +Ralph Clavering's will, to be left there until it should be proved.</p> + +<p>That is sufficient explanation for the present. Sir Edmund Clavering, +shown up by Lennard himself, came into the room. I had never acted for +him; Mr. Brightman had invariably done so.</p> + +<p>"Can you carry my business through, Mr. Strange?" he asked, after +expressing his shock and regret at Mr. Brightman's sudden fate.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[115]</span></p> + +<p>"I hope so. Why not, Sir Edmund?"</p> + +<p>"You have not Mr. Brightman's legal knowledge and experience."</p> + +<p>"Not his experience, certainly; because he was an old man and I am a +young one. But, as far as practice goes, I have for some time had +chief control of the business. Mr. Brightman almost confined himself +to seeing clients. You may trust me, Sir Edmund."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I dare say it will be all right," he rejoined. "Do you know +that Lady Clavering and her cousin John—my cousin also—mean to +dispute the will?"</p> + +<p>"Upon what grounds?"</p> + +<p>"Upon Sir Ralph's incompetency to make one, I suppose—as foul a plea +as ever false woman or man invented. Mr. Brightman can prove—— Good +heavens! every moment I forget that he is dead," broke off Sir Edmund. +"How unfortunate that he should have gone just now!"</p> + +<p>"But there cannot fail to be ample proof of Sir Ralph's competency. +The servants<span class="pagenum">[116]</span> about him must know that he was of sane and healthy +mind."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what her schemes may be," rejoined Sir Edmund; "but I do +know that she will not leave a stone unturned to wrest my rights from +me. I am more bitter than gall and wormwood to her."</p> + +<p>"Because you have inherited most of the money."</p> + +<p>"Ay, for one thing. But there's another reason, more galling to her +even than that."</p> + +<p>Sir Edmund looked at me with a peculiar expression. He was about my +own age, and would have been an exceedingly pleasant man but for his +pride. When he could so far forget that as to throw it off, he was +warm and cordial.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship is a scheming woman, Mr. Strange. She flung off into a +fit of resentment at first, which Mr. Brightman witnessed, but very +shortly her tactics changed. Before Sir Ralph had been three days in +his grave, she contrived to intimate<span class="pagenum">[117]</span> to me that we had better join +interests. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>I did not know whether to understand or not. It was inconceivable.</p> + +<p>"And I feel ashamed to enlighten you," said Sir Edmund passionately. +"She offered herself to me; my willing wife. 'If you will wed no other +woman, I will wed no other man——' How runs the old ballad? +Not in so many words, but in terms sufficiently plain to be +deciphered. I answered as plainly, and declined. Declined to join +interests—declined <i>her</i>—and so made her my mortal enemy for ever. +Do you know her?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw her."</p> + +<p>"Take care of yourself, then, should you be brought into contact with +her," laughed Sir Edmund. "She is a Jezebel. All the same, she is one +of the most fascinating of women: irresistibly so, no doubt, to many +people. Had she been any but my uncle's wife—widow—I don't know how +it might have gone with me. By the way, Mr. Strange, did Mr. Brightman +impart to you Sir Ralph's<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> reason for devising his property to me? He +had always said, you know, that he would not do it. Mr. Brightman +would not tell me the reason for the change."</p> + +<p>"No, he did not. Sir Ralph intended, I believe, to bequeath most of it +to his wife, and altered his mind quite suddenly. So much Mr. +Brightman told me."</p> + +<p>"Found out Jezebel, perhaps, at some trick or other."</p> + +<p>That I thought all too likely; but did not say so. Sir Edmund +continued to speak a little longer upon business matters, and then +rose.</p> + +<p>"The will had better be proved without delay," he paused to say.</p> + +<p>"I will see about it the first thing next week, Sir Edmund. It would +have been done this week but for Mr. Brightman's unexpected death."</p> + +<p>"Why do you sink your voice to a whisper?" asked Sir Edmund, as we +were quitting the room. "Do you fear eavesdroppers?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[119]</span></p> + +<p>I was not conscious that I had sunk it, until recalled to the fact. +"Every time I approach this door," I said, pointing to the one opening +into the other room, "I feel as if I were in the presence of the dead. +He is still lying there."</p> + +<p>"What—Mr. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>"It is where he died. He will be removed to his late residence +to-night."</p> + +<p>"I think I will see him," cried Sir Edmund, laying his hand on the +door.</p> + +<p>"As you please. I would not advise you." And he apparently thought +better of it, and went down.</p> + +<p>I had to attend the Vice-Chancellor's Court; law business goes on +without respect to the dead. Upon my return in the afternoon, I was in +the front office, speaking to Lennard, when a carriage drove down the +street, and stopped at the door. Our blinds were down, but one of the +clerks peeped out. "A gentleman's chariot, painted black," he +announced: "the servants in deep mourning."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[120]</span></p> + +<p>Allen went out and brought back a card. "The lady wishes to see you, +sir."</p> + +<p>I cast my eyes on it—"Lady Clavering." And an involuntary smile +crossed my face, at the remembrance of Sir Edmund's caution, should I +ever be brought into contact with her. But what could Lady Clavering +want with me?</p> + +<p>She was conducted upstairs, and I followed, leaving my business with +Lennard until afterwards. She was already seated in the very chair +that, not two hours ago, had held her opponent, Sir Edmund: a very +handsome woman, dressed as coquettishly as her widow's weeds allowed. +Her face was beautiful as to form and colouring, but its free and vain +expression spoiled it. Every glance of her coal-black eye, every +movement of her head and hands, every word that fell from her lips, +was a purposed display of her charms, a demand for admiration. Sir +Edmund need not have cautioned me to keep heart-whole. One so vain and +foolish would repel rather than attract me, even<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> though gifted with +beauty rarely accorded to woman. A Jezebel? Yes, I agreed with him—a +very Jezebel.</p> + +<p>"I have the honour of speaking to Mr. Strange? Charles Strange, as I +have heard Mr. Brightman call you," she said, with a smile of +fascination.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am Charles Strange. What can I do for you, madam?"</p> + +<p>"Will you promise to do what I have come to ask you?"</p> + +<p>The more she spoke, the less I liked her. I am naturally frank in +manner, but I grew reserved with her. "I cannot make a promise without +knowing its nature, Lady Clavering."</p> + +<p>She picked up her long jet chain, and twirled it about in her fingers. +"What a frightfully sudden death Mr. Brightman's has been!" she +resumed. "Did he lie ill at all?"</p> + +<p>"No. He died suddenly, as he was sitting at his desk. And to render it +still more painful, no one was with him."</p> + +<p>"I read the account in this morning's<span class="pagenum">[122]</span> paper, and came up at once to +see you," resumed Lady Clavering. "He was my husband's confidential +adviser. Were you in his confidence also?"</p> + +<p>I presumed that she meant Mr. Brightman's, and answered accordingly. +"Partially so."</p> + +<p>"You are aware how very unjustly my poor childish husband strove to +will away his property. Of course the will cannot be allowed to stand. +At the time of Sir Ralph's funeral, I informed Mr. Brightman that I +should take some steps to assert my rights, and I wished him to be my +solicitor in the matter. But no; he refused, and went over to the +enemy, Edmund Clavering."</p> + +<p>"We were solicitors to Mr. Edmund Clavering before he came into the +title."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brightman was; you never did anything for him," she hastily +interrupted; "therefore no obligation can lie on you to act for him +now. I want you to act for me, and I have come all this way to request +you to do so."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[123]</span></p> + +<p>"I cannot do so, Lady Clavering. I have seen Sir Edmund since Mr. +Brightman's death, and have undertaken to carry on his business."</p> + +<p>"Seen Sir Edmund since Mr. Brightman's death!"</p> + +<p>"I have indeed."</p> + +<p>She threw herself back in her chair, and looked at me from under her +vain eyelids. "Leave him, Mr. Strange; you can easily make an excuse, +if you will. Mr. Brightman held all my husband's papers, knew all +about his property, and no one is so fitted to act for me as you, his +partner. I will make it worth your while."</p> + +<p>"What you suggest is impossible, Lady Clavering. We are enlisted in +the interests—I speak professionally—of the other side, and have +already advised with Sir Edmund as to the steps to be taken in the +suit you purpose to enter against him. To leave him for you, after +doing so, would be dishonourable and impossible."</p> + +<p>She shot another glance at me from those<span class="pagenum">[124]</span> mischievous eyes. "I will +make it well worth your while, I repeat, Mr. Strange."</p> + +<p>I could look mischievous too, if I pleased; perhaps did on occasion; +but she could read nothing in my gaze then, as it met hers, that was +not sober as old Time.</p> + +<p>"I can only repeat my answer, Lady Clavering."</p> + +<p>Not a word spoke she; only made play with her eyes. Did the woman mean +to subdue me? Her gaze dropped.</p> + +<p>"I have heard Mr. Brightman speak of Charles Strange not only as a +thorough lawyer, but as a <i>gentleman</i>—very fond of the world's +vanities."</p> + +<p>"Not very fond, Lady Clavering. Joining in them occasionally, in +proper time and place."</p> + +<p>"I met you once at a large evening party. It was at old Judge +Tartar's," she ran on.</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" I answered, not remembering it.</p> + +<p>"It was before I married Sir Ralph. You came in with your relative, +Serjeant<span class="pagenum">[125]</span> Stillingfar. What a charming man he is! I heard you tell +someone you had just come down from Oxford. <i>Won't</i> you act for me, +Mr. Strange?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it does not lie in my power."</p> + +<p>"Well, I did not think a gentleman"—with another stress upon the +word—"would have refused to act on my behalf."</p> + +<p>"Lady Clavering must perceive that I have no alternative."</p> + +<p>"Who is Edmund Clavering that he should be preferred to me?" she +demanded with some vehemence.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Lady Clavering, circumstances compel the preference."</p> + +<p>A silence ensued, and I glanced at my watch—the lawyer's hint. She +did not take it.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me whether, amidst the papers Mr. Brightman held +belonging to Sir Ralph, there are any letters of mine?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say."</p> + +<p>"Some of my letters, to Sir Ralph and others, are missing, and I think +they must<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> have got amongst the papers by mistake. Will you look?"</p> + +<p>"I will take an early opportunity of doing so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I mean now. I want them. Why cannot you search now?"</p> + +<p>I did not tell her why. In the first place, most of the Clavering +papers were in the room where Mr. Brightman was lying—and there were +other reasons also.</p> + +<p>"I cannot spare the time, Lady Clavering: I have an appointment out of +doors which I must keep. I will search for you in a day or two. But +should any letters of yours be here—of which I assure you I am +ignorant—you will pardon my intimating that it may not be expedient +to give them up."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Should they bear at all upon the cause at issue between you and Sir +Edmund Clavering——"</p> + +<p>"But they don't," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Then, if they do not, I shall be happy to enclose them to you."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[127]</span></p> + +<p>"It is of the utmost consequence to me that I should regain possession +of them," she said, with suppressed agitation.</p> + +<p>"And, if possible, you shall do so." I rose as I spoke, and waited for +her to rise. She did so, but advanced to the window and pulled the +blind aside.</p> + +<p>"My carriage is not back yet, Mr. Strange. A friend who came up with +me has gone to do a commission for herself. It will be here in a few +minutes. I suppose I can wait."</p> + +<p>I begged her to remain as long as she pleased, but to excuse me, for I +was already behind time. She drew up the blind a little and sat down +at the window as I left her.</p> + +<p>After giving some directions to Lennard, I hastened to keep my +appointment, which was at the Temple with a chamber-counsel.</p> + +<p>The interview lasted about twenty minutes. As I turned into Essex +Street again, Lady Clavering's carriage was bowling up it. I raised my +hat, and she bowed to me, leaning before another lady, who sat with +her, but<span class="pagenum">[128]</span> she looked white and frightened. What had taken her +brilliant colour? At the door, when I reached it, stood the clerks, +Lennard amongst them, some with a laugh on their countenances, some +looking as white and scared as Lady Clavering.</p> + +<p>"Why, what is this?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>They went back to their desks, and Lennard explained.</p> + +<p>"You must have seen Lady Clavering's carriage," he began.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Just before it came for her, cries and shrieks were heard above; +startling shrieks, terrifying us all. We hastened up with one accord, +and found that Lady Clavering——"</p> + +<p>"Well?" I impatiently cried, looking at Lennard.</p> + +<p>"Had gone into the next room, and seen Mr. Brightman," he whispered. +"It took three of us to hold her, and it ended with hysterics. Leah +came flying from the kitchen, took off her bonnet, and brought some +water."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[129]</span></p> + +<p>I was sorry to hear it; sorry that any woman should have been exposed +to so unpleasant a fright. "But it was her own fault," I said to +Lennard. "How could she think of entering a room of which the door was +locked?"</p> + +<p>"What right had she to attempt to enter it at all, locked or unlocked, +I should say, Mr. Strange!" returned Lennard severely. "And the best +of it was, she laid the blame upon us, asking what business we had to +put dead people into public rooms."</p> + +<p>"She is a curious sort of woman, I fancy, Lennard."</p> + +<p>And the more I thought of her, the more curious I found her. The door +between the two rooms had been locked, and the key was lying in the +corner of the mantelpiece. Lady Clavering must have searched for the +key before she could open the door and enter the room.</p> + +<p>With what motive had she entered it?</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[130]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i010a.jpg" width="400" height="117" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="h3">THE MISSING WILL.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-m.jpg" width="80" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">M</span>R. BRIGHTMAN</b> was buried on the Thursday, and Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar +came up from circuit for the funeral. Three or four other gentlemen +attended, and myself. It was all done very quietly. After that the +will was read.</p> + +<p>He had not left as much money as might have been expected. I suppose +the rate at which they lived had absorbed it. Nearly the whole of it +was vested in trustees, who would pay the interest to Mrs. Brightman +until her death, when it would all descend unconditionally to Annabel. +If she married<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> again, one half the yearly income at once went to +Annabel. To my surprise, I was left executor. Mr. Brightman had never +told me so. Of the two executors originally appointed—for the will +had been made many years—one had recently died, and Mr. Brightman had +inserted my name in his place. That all the work would fall upon my +shoulders I knew, for the other executor had become a confirmed +invalid.</p> + +<p>With regard to our own articles of partnership, provided for by a +recent codicil, they were very favourable to me, though somewhat +peculiar. If Mr. Brightman died before I was thirty years of age, +two-thirds of the net profits of the business were to be paid to Mrs. +Brightman for three years; but if I had passed my thirtieth year when +he died, only half the profits would go to her. After the first three +years, one-third of the profits would be hers for three years more; +and then all would revert to me absolutely.</p> + +<p>I wanted some years yet of thirty. But<span class="pagenum">[132]</span> it was an excellent and +lucrative practice. Few men fall into so good a thing when they are +still young.</p> + +<p>"So there you are, Charles, the head of one of the best professional +houses in London," remarked my uncle Stillingfar, as he took my arm +when we were leaving the house. "Rather different from what your fate +might have been, had you carried out your wish of going to the Bar. My +boy, you may be thankful that you know nothing of the struggles I had +to go through."</p> + +<p>"Do you still feel quite well and strong, uncle?" I asked, after a +bit.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Charles. I suppose you think I am growing old. But I +believe I am more capable of work than are many of my juniors who are +now on circuit with me. With a sound constitution, never played with, +and a temperate way of life, we retain our energies, by God's +blessing, to an older age than mine."</p> + +<p>That was no doubt true. True also that he must be making heaps of +money. I<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> wondered what he meant to do with it. He had been very +liberal to me as long as I needed help, but that time was over.</p> + +<p>The sad week passed away. On the following Monday I set to +professional business in earnest: the previous week had been much +given to matters not professional. One of the first things to be +attended to was to prove the will of Sir Ralph Clavering, and, in the +course of the morning, I unlocked the iron safe in the front room to +get it. Nothing was ever placed in that safe but wills and +title-deeds, and these were never placed anywhere else. But where this +particular will was hiding itself, I could not tell, for I turned over +every paper the place contained without coming to it. "More haste less +speed," cried I to myself, for I had been doing it in a hurry. "I must +have overlooked it."</p> + +<p>So I began again and went through the papers carefully, paper by +paper. I had not overlooked it, for Sir Ralph's will was certainly not +there.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[134]</span></p> + +<p>Now, was I awake or dreaming? Was there a fairy in the walls to remove +things, or was the house bewitched?—or what was it? I went and +examined the Clavering papers, which were in Mr. Brightman's desk in +the adjoining room—my room, which had been cleaned and put straight +again. But the will was not amongst them. I searched other drawers and +desks in vain. Then I called up Lennard.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of Sir Ralph Clavering's will? I cannot find +it."</p> + +<p>"It must be in the safe," he replied.</p> + +<p>"It is not in the safe. Lennard, this is very strange: first that bag +of money, and now the will."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it cannot be," returned Lennard, after a pause. "That the +gold went, appears to be too plain, but who would take a will? Money +might be a temptation, if any stranger did enter Mr. Brightman's room +that night, but——"</p> + +<p>"It has been proved almost beyond doubt that no one entered, and yet +the money<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> went. Lennard, there's something not canny at work in the +house, as the Scotch say."</p> + +<p>"Do not think it, Mr. Strange," he replied warmly. "The gold appears +to have gone in some mysterious manner, but the will cannot be gone. +Depend upon it, it is in the safe."</p> + +<p>I had a great respect for Lennard's judgment, but I had as great +confidence in my own eyesight. I unlocked the safe again, and, taking +out the parchments, one by one, handed them to Lennard that he might +read their titles. "There," said I, when we had reached the last; "is +the will amongst them?"</p> + +<p>Lennard's face had turned grave. "This is very extraordinary!" he +exclaimed. "Mr. Brightman would not put it anywhere else."</p> + +<p>"He never put a will up in any other place than this since I have been +with him, Lennard; and I myself saw him put it in; held the light for +him: it was in the evening of last Tuesday week, after he came back +from Sir Ralph's funeral. It has gone after the gold."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[136]</span></p> + +<p>"No, no," he cried, almost in agitation; "it has not, it has not: I +will never believe it."</p> + +<p>One very slight hope came to me. Mr. Brightman might have given it +into the custody of Sir Edmund Clavering. But then Sir Edmund would +surely have said so when he spoke to me about proving the will. The +loss of the money was nothing to this, for that had been easily +replaced, and there was an end of the matter; but this loss could not +be replaced, and there was no knowing what the end would be. It might +be little short of ruin to Sir Edmund Clavering, and nothing short of +ruin to me: for who would continue to employ a firm liable to lose +wills?</p> + +<p>I was greatly occupied that day, but the missing will lay upon me as a +nightmare, and I forced time for a dash up to Sir Edmund Clavering's +hotel in the afternoon, bribing the cabman to double speed. By good +luck, I found Sir Edmund in, and inquired if he held possession of the +will.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Brightman holds the will," he replied. "Held, I should say: I +cannot yet speak of him in the past tense, you see. He took it home +with him after Sir Ralph's funeral."</p> + +<p>"I know he brought it home, Sir Edmund; but I thought it possible he +might since then have given it into your possession. I hoped he had, +for I cannot find the will. I have searched for it everywhere."</p> + +<p>"Not find the will!" he echoed. "Perhaps you have looked in every +place but the right one," he added, with a slight laugh. "I can tell +you where it is."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In the iron safe in Mr. Brightman's room."</p> + +<p>"It was placed there—we never put wills anywhere else; never—but it +is not there now. May I ask how you knew it was there, Sir Edmund?"</p> + +<p>"Because on the day but one following the funeral I came to town and +had an interview with Mr. Brightman in his room. It<span class="pagenum">[138]</span> was on the +Thursday. Perhaps you remember that I was with him that day?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well."</p> + +<p>"During our consultation we differed in opinion as to a certain clause +in the will, and Mr. Brightman took it out of the safe to convince me. +He was right, and I was wrong; as, indeed, I might have known, +considering that he had made the will. He put it back into the safe at +once and locked it up. When are you going to prove the will? It ought +to be done now."</p> + +<p>"I was going to set about it this very day; but, as I say, I cannot +find the will."</p> + +<p>"It must be easy enough to find a big parchment like that. If not in +the safe, Mr. Brightman must have put it elsewhere. Look in all his +pigeon-holes and places."</p> + +<p>"I have looked: I have looked everywhere.—— Just as I looked some +days before for the bag of sovereigns," I mentally added.</p> + +<p>But Sir Edmund Clavering was determined to treat the matter lightly: +he evidently attached no importance to it whatever,<span class="pagenum">[139]</span> believing that +Mr. Brightman had only changed its place.</p> + +<p>I went home again, feeling as uncomfortable as I had ever felt in my +life. An undefined idea, a doubt, had flashed into my mind whilst I +had been talking to Lennard. Imagination is quicker with me, I know, +than with many people; and the moment a thing puzzles me, I must dive +into its why and wherefore: its various bearings and phases, probable +and improbable, natural and unnatural. This doubt—which I had driven +away at the time, had been driving away during my gallop to Sir +Edmund's, and whilst I was conversing with him—now grew into +suspicion.</p> + +<p>Let me explain how I arrived at this suspicion. When I found the will +had disappeared from the safe—when I searched and searched in vain—I +could only come to the conclusion that it had been stolen. But why was +it taken? From what motive? Why should that one particular parchment +be abstracted, and the others left? Obviously,<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> it could only have +been from interested motives. Now, who had an interest in getting +possession of the will—so that it might not be proved and acted upon? +Only one person in the whole world—Lady Clavering. And Lady Clavering +had been alone in the room where the safe was for nearly half an hour.</p> + +<p>If she had obtained possession of the will, there was farewell to our +ever getting it again. I saw through her character at that first +interview: she was a woman absolutely without scruple.</p> + +<p>But how could she have got at it? Even supposing she knew the will was +in the iron safe, she could not have opened it without the key; and +how could she have obtained the key?</p> + +<p>Again—if Lady Clavering were the guilty party, what became of my very +natural suspicions that the will and the gold were both taken by the +same hand? And with the gold Lady Clavering could have had nothing to +do. Look at it as I would,<span class="pagenum">[141]</span> perplexities arose; points difficult, if +not impossible, to reconcile.</p> + +<p>Lennard met me in the passage on my return. "Is it all right? Has Sir +Edmund got it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; I told you it was a forlorn hope. Come upstairs, Lennard. Sir +Edmund has not the will," I continued, as we entered the front room. +"He says that when he was here last Thursday week, Mr. Brightman had +occasion to refer to the will, took it from the safe, and put it back +again. Therefore it is since that period that the theft has taken +place."</p> + +<p>"Can you really look upon it as <i>stolen</i>?" Lennard uttered, with +emphasis. "Who would steal so valueless a thing as a will?"</p> + +<p>"Not valueless to everyone."</p> + +<p>"No one in the house would do such a thing. You have a suspicion?" he +added.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have, Lennard."</p> + +<p>He began to pace the room. Lennard was, in truth, completely upset by +this<span class="pagenum">[142]</span> loss. "Of whom?" he presently jerked out. "Surely not of Leah!"</p> + +<p>"Of Leah! Oh no!"</p> + +<p>"I fancied you suspected her in the matter of the money. I feel sure +she was innocent."</p> + +<p>"So do I. Leah no more took the money than you or I did, Lennard. And +what should she want with the will? If I made her a present of all the +wills in the safe, she would only light her fires with them as useless +lumber. Try again."</p> + +<p>But he only shook his head. "I cannot catch your drift, sir."</p> + +<p>"To all persons, two excepted, the will would be as useless as to +Leah. One of those two is Sir Edmund; and he has it not: the other is +Lady Clavering."</p> + +<p>"But surely you cannot suspect her!" exclaimed Lennard. "You cannot +suspect Lady Clavering!"</p> + +<p>"To say that I suspect her would perhaps be too strong a word, +Lennard. If my doubts rest upon her at all, it is because<span class="pagenum">[143]</span> she is the +only person who could have an interest in getting possession of the +will; and she is the only stranger, as far as I can recollect, who has +been alone in this room sufficiently long to take it from the safe."</p> + +<p>Lennard was incredulous. "But she had not the key of the safe. She +could not have opened it without it."</p> + +<p>"I know—I see the improbabilities that encompass my doubts; but I can +think of nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Where was the key of the safe?" asked Lennard.</p> + +<p>"In that back room; and in Mr. Brightman's deep drawer—the drawer +from which the gold was taken," was my grave answer. "And she could +not have got at it without—without passing him."</p> + +<p>Lennard's face grew hot.</p> + +<p>"And the key of that drawer was here, in my own pocket, on the bunch." +I took out the bunch of keys as I spoke—Mr. Brightman's bunch until +within a few days—and shook it before him.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[144]</span></p> + +<p>"What mystery has come over the house, about keys, and locks, and +things disappearing?" Lennard murmured, as a man bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Lennard, it is the question I am asking myself."</p> + +<p>"She could never have gone in there and passed him; and stood there +while she got the key. A young and beautiful woman like Lady +Clavering! Sir, it would be unnatural."</p> + +<p>"No more unnatural for beauty than for ugliness, Lennard. Unnatural +for most women, though, whether pretty or plain."</p> + +<p>"But how could she have divined that the key of the safe was in that +drawer, or in that room?" urged Lennard. "For the matter of that, how +could she have known that the will was in the safe?"</p> + +<p>Truly the affair presented grave perplexities. "One curious part of it +is that she should have called you up with her screams, Lennard," I +remarked. "If she had only that moment opened the door, and +seen<span class="pagenum">[145]</span>—what frightened her, she could not have been already in the +room hunting for the key. Were the screams assumed? Was it all a piece +of acting?"</p> + +<p>"It would take a subtle actress to counterfeit her terror," replied +Lennard; "and the best actress breathing could not have assumed her +ghastly look. No, Mr. Strange, I believe what she said was the fact: +that, weary of waiting for her carriage, she had walked about the +room, then opened the door, and passed into the other without any +thought except that of distracting her ennui."</p> + +<p>"She must have looked about for the key of the door, mind you, +Lennard."</p> + +<p>A man has rarely been placed in a more disagreeable predicament than I +felt to be in then. It was of no use temporising with the matter: I +could only meet it boldly, and I sent that evening for Sir Edmund +Clavering, and laid it before him. I told him of Lady Clavering's +visit, and hinted at the doubt which had forced itself on my<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> mind. +Sir Edmund jumped to the conclusion (and into a passion at the same +time) that she was the culprit, and declared he would apply for a +warrant at Bow Street on the morrow, to take her into custody. With +extreme difficulty I got him to hear reason against anything of the +sort.</p> + +<p>Lennard, who had remained, came round to Sir Edmund's opinion that it +must inevitably have been Lady Clavering. Failing her, no shadow of +suspicion could attach itself to anyone, sift and search into the +matter as we would.</p> + +<p>"But neither was there as to the gold," was my rejoinder.</p> + +<p>Then after they were gone, and I sat by the fire in the front room, +and went over the details dispassionately and carefully, and lay awake +the best part of the night, going over them still, my suspicions of +Lady Clavering lessened, and I arrived at the conclusion that they +were too improbable to be well founded.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I intended to pursue the<span class="pagenum">[147]</span> course I had decided on: and +that was to call upon her. She, like Sir Edmund, was now staying in +London, at an hotel. Not to accuse her, but to see if I could not, +indirectly, make out something that would confirm or dissipate my +suspicion.</p> + +<p>I went up in the course of the morning. Lady Clavering was sitting +alone, her widow's cap on the sofa beside her. She hurried it on to +her head, when the waiter announced me.</p> + +<p>"It is so hot and ugly," she exclaimed, in tones of excuse. "I sit +without it when I am alone. So you have condescended to return my +visit, Mr. Strange. I thought you gentlemen of the law took refuge in +your plea of occupation to ignore etiquette."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is not out of deference to etiquette that I have called +upon you to-day, Lady Clavering, but——"</p> + +<p>"You have thought better of your refusal: you have come to say you +will undertake my business!" she interrupted, eyes and looks full of +eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Nor yet that," I was forced to reply,<span class="pagenum">[148]</span> though, in truth, I should +have been glad to conciliate her. "I am sure you will find many an +advocate quite as efficient as I should be. The day you were at our +house, did you happen to see——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strange, I must beg you, as a gentleman, not to allude to what I +saw," she interposed, in tones of alarm. "I think it was inexcusable +on your part not to have informed me what was in the next room."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Lady Clavering; it would have been an unnecessary and +unpleasant piece of information to volunteer: for how could I possibly +foresee that you would be likely to enter that room?" I might have +added—look for the key, unlock it, and go into it.</p> + +<p>"I never saw a dead person in my life," she rejoined; "not even my +husband; and I shall not easily recover from the shock. I would give +anything rather than have been exposed to it."</p> + +<p>"And so would I, and I shall always regret it," was my warm apology.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[149]</span></p> + +<p>"Then why do you introduce the subject?"</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to allude to that; but to your having sat in the +front room I must allude; and I know you will excuse my asking you the +question I am about to put to you. Did you happen to see a parchment +lying in that front room: on the table, or the side-tables, +or—anywhere, in short? We have missed one: and if you chanced to have +noticed it, it would be a great assistance to us, as a proof that we +need not carry our researches further back than that day."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember that I saw any parchment," she carelessly rejoined. +"I saw some papers, tied round with pink tape, on the table; I did not +notice them particularly. I pray you not to make me think about that +afternoon, or you will have me in hysterics again."</p> + +<p>"It is not possible—your ladyship will pardon me—that it can have +caught your dress in any way, and so have been carried downstairs and +out of the house, and—perhaps—lost<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> in the street?" I persisted +slowly, looking at her.</p> + +<p>Looking at her: but I could detect no emotion on her face; no drooping +of the eye; no rise or fall of colour, such as one guilty would have +been likely to display. She appeared to take my question literally, +and to see nothing beyond it.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell anything about it, Mr. Strange. Had my dress been +covered with parchments, I was in too much terror to notice them. Your +clerks would be more able to answer you than I, for they had to assist +me down to my carriage. But how should a parchment become attached to +a lady's dress?" she added, shaking out the folds of her ample skirts. +"The crape is quite soft, you perceive. Touch it."</p> + +<p>"Quite so," I assented, advancing for a half-moment the extreme tip of +my forefinger.</p> + +<p>"You will take a glass of wine? Now don't say no. Why can't you be +sociable?"</p> + +<p>"Not any wine, thank you," I answered<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> with a laugh. "We lawyers have +to keep our heads clear, Lady Clavering: we should not do that if we +took wine in the daytime."</p> + +<p>"Sit still, pray. You have scarcely been here five minutes. I want to +speak to you, too, upon a matter of business."</p> + +<p>So I resumed my seat, and waited. She was looking at me very +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"It is about those missing letters of mine. Have you searched for +them, Mr. Strange?"</p> + +<p>"Partially. I do not think we hold any. There are none amongst the +Clavering papers."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say 'partially'?" she questioned.</p> + +<p>"I have not had time to search amongst the packets of letters in Mr. +Brightman's cupboards and places. But I think if there were any of +your letters in our possession they would have been with the Clavering +papers."</p> + +<p>Her gaze again sought mine for a moment, and then faded to vacancy. +"I<span class="pagenum">[152]</span> wonder if he burnt them," she dreamily uttered.</p> + +<p>"Who? Mr. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>"No; my husband. You must look <i>everywhere</i>, Mr. Strange. If those +letters are in existence, I must have them. You will look?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will."</p> + +<p>"I shall remain in town until I hear from you. You <i>will</i> go, then!"</p> + +<p>"One more question ere I do go, Lady Clavering. Have you positively no +recollection of seeing this lost parchment?"</p> + +<p>She looked surprised at my pertinacity. "If I had, I should say so. I +do not think I saw anything of the sort. But if I had seen it, the +subsequent fright would have taken it clean out of my memory."</p> + +<p>So I wished her good-morning and departed. "It is not Lady Clavering," +I exclaimed to Lennard, when I reached home.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that, Mr. Strange?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. I judge by her manner: it is only consistent with perfect +innocence.<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> In truth, Lennard, I begin to see that I was foolish to +have doubted her at all, the circumstances surrounding it are so +intensely improbable."</p> + +<p>And yet, even while I spoke, something of the suspicion crept into my +mind again. So prone to inconsistency is the human heart.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="150" height="172" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[154]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i012a.jpg" width="400" height="110" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">ANNABEL.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-m.jpg" width="80" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">M</span>OST</b> men have their romance in life sooner or later. Mine had come in +due course, and she who made it for me was Annabel Brightman.</p> + +<p>After my first meeting with her, when she was a child of fourteen, and +I not much more than a lad of twenty, I had continued to see her from +time to time, for Mr. Brightman's first invitation to me was only the +prelude to others. I watched her grow up into a good, unaffected +woman, lovable and charming as she was when a child. Childhood had +passed away now, and thought and gentleness had taken its place; and +to my<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> eyes and my heart no other girl in the world could compare with +Annabel Brightman.</p> + +<p>Her father suspected it. Had he lived only a little longer, he would +have learned it beyond doubt, for I should have spoken out more fully +upon the matter.</p> + +<p>A little less than a year before his death—it was on a Good Friday—I +was spending the day at his house, and was in the garden with Annabel. +She had taken my arm, and we were pacing the broad walk to the left of +the lawn, thinking only of ourselves, when, raising my eyes, I saw Mr. +Brightman looking attentively at us from one of the French windows. He +beckoned to me, and I went in.</p> + +<p>"Charles," said he, when I had stepped inside, "no <i>nonsense</i>. You and +Annabel are too young for anything of that sort."</p> + +<p>I felt that his eyes were full upon me as I stood before him, and my +face flushed to the roots of my hair. But I took courage to ask a +question.</p> + +<p>"Sir, every year passing over our heads<span class="pagenum">[156]</span> will lessen that objection. +Would there be any other?"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Charles. Time enough to talk of these things when the years +shall have passed. You are too young for them, I say."</p> + +<p>"I am twenty-five, sir; and Miss Brightman——"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five?" he interrupted. "I was past forty when I thought of +marriage. You must not turn Annabel's head with visions of what the +years may bring forth, for if you do I will not have you here. Leave +that to the future."</p> + +<p>But there was sufficient in Mr. Brightman's manner to prove that he +had not been blind to the attachment springing up between us, and +undoubtedly regarded me as the possible future husband of his +daughter. At any rate he continued to invite me to his house. During +the past year Annabel had been a great deal at Hastings with Miss +Brightman; I wondered that her father and mother would spare her so +much.</p> + +<p>But Annabel knew nothing of that conversation,<span class="pagenum">[157]</span> and I had never yet +spoken of love to her. And now Mr. Brightman, who would, or at least +might, have sanctioned it, was gone; and Mrs. Brightman, who would +certainly, as I believed, oppose it, remained.</p> + +<p>In the days immediately following Mr. Brightman's death, I was +literally overwhelmed with business. Apart from the additional work +that naturally fell upon me—his share as well as mine—no end of +clients came pouring in; and for no earthly purpose, that I could see, +excepting curiosity. Besides this, there was the frightful search for +Sir Ralph Clavering's will, and the anxiety its loss entailed on me.</p> + +<p>On the Wednesday afternoon, just as I had got rid of two clients, +Lennard came up with the news that someone else was there. I was then +in the front room, seated at Mr. Brightman's desk. Too impatient to +hear Lennard out, I told him I could see no one; could not, and would +not.</p> + +<p>"It is Miss Annabel Brightman," rejoined Lennard quietly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[158]</span></p> + +<p>"Miss Annabel Brightman? Oh, that's very different; I will see her."</p> + +<p>Annabel came in, throwing back her crape veil. She had driven up alone +in the carriage to bring me a message from her mother. Mrs. Brightman +had made an appointment with me for that evening at her house; she had +now sent to tell me not to keep it, as she was not well enough to +attend to business.</p> + +<p>"Mamma wishes you to come to-morrow instead of to-day; early in the +afternoon," added Annabel.</p> + +<p>That would be impossible, and I said so; my engagements would not at +present permit me to give up an afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps to-morrow evening will do," I suggested. "In fact it must do, +Annabel. I don't know when I shall have leisure to come down to you in +the daytime."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it will do," assented Annabel. "At any rate, you can come +to us. If mamma is not able to enter into business matters, another +time can be appointed."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[159]</span></p> + +<p>"Is your mamma so very ill?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I think so—but she fluctuates," replied Annabel. "She is +extremely weak, and her spirits are depressed. She will pass whole +hours shut up in her room in solitude. When I ask to go in, Hatch +brings out a message that mamma is not able to see even me."</p> + +<p>"Her illness must be on the nerves."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. Yesterday she came down and walked with me in the +garden in the sunshine. She seemed pretty well then, but not strong. +In the evening she shut herself up again."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would sit down, Annabel," I said, offering her a chair for +the third time.</p> + +<p>"I would if I could stay. Mamma charged me to go straight back after +leaving the message with you. Are you well?" she continued with +hesitation. "You look harassed."</p> + +<p>"I am well, Annabel. But you have used the right word—I am harassed; +terribly so."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[160]</span></p> + +<p>"Poor papa!" she sighed. "It has brought a world of work and care upon +you, as well as of grief to us."</p> + +<p>"I should not mind work. But—we have had another loss, Annabel. A +loss as mysterious as that of the gold; and far more important."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked. "More money?"</p> + +<p>"No; I wish it were. A will, deposited in the safe there, has +disappeared. I cannot even guess at the consequences; ruin probably to +me and to one of our best clients. Not only that. If things are to +vanish so unaccountably from our strongholds, we must have an enemy at +work, and it is impossible to foresee where it may end."</p> + +<p>"How very strange! What was the will like? I mean, what did it look +like? I have a reason for asking you."</p> + +<p>"It was a folded parchment. You saw your father's will, Annabel: it +looked very much like that. Why do you ask?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[161]</span></p> + +<p>"Because I remember papa's bringing home a parchment exactly like the +one you describe. It was an evening or two before he died: the evening +before I and mamma went to Hastings. We left on Saturday, so it must +have been Friday. Do you think it could be the missing will?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. I have known Mr. Brightman—though very rarely—take home +deeds which required studying; but he was not likely to take home Sir +Ralph Clavering's will. He made it himself, and knew every word it +contained. Annabel, I did not intend to let out the name, but it will +be safe with you."</p> + +<p>"Perfectly so; as safe as with yourself. I will not repeat it, even to +mamma."</p> + +<p>"And what I shall do I cannot tell," I concluded, as I attended her +down to the carriage. "I would give every shilling I possess to find +it."</p> + +<p>More work, and then the afternoon came to an end, my dinner came up, +and I was at liberty to enjoy a little rest. I had taken to the front +room as my sitting-room, and<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> should speedily remove the desk and iron +safe into the other, making that exclusively a business-room, and +seeing clients in it. After dinner, the fire clear, my reading-lamp +lighted, I took up the newspaper. But for habits of order and +self-denying rules, I should never have attained to the position I +enjoyed. One of those rules was, never to read the <i>Times</i> or any work +of relaxation until my work was over for the day. I could then enjoy +my paper and my cigar, and feel that I had earned both.</p> + +<p>I took up the <i>Times</i>, and almost the very first paragraph my eye fell +upon was the following:</p> + +<p>"We hear that the convict ship <i>Vengeance</i>, after encountering stormy +weather and contrary winds on her passage out, has been wrecked upon +an uninhabited island. It is said that some of the convicts have +escaped."</p> + +<p>I started up almost as if I had been shot. Tom Heriot had gone out in +the <i>Vengeance</i>: was he one of those who had escaped? If so, where was +he? and what would be his ultimate fate?</p><p><span class="pagenum">[163]</span></p> + +<p>The ship had sailed from our shores in August; this was February: +therefore the reader may think that the news had been long enough in +reaching England. But it must be remembered that sailing-vessels were +at the mercy of the winds and waves, and in those days telegrams and +cablegrams had not been invented.</p> + +<p>Throwing my cigar into the fire and the newspaper on the table, I fell +into an unpleasant reverie. My lucky star did not seem in the +ascendant just now. Mr. Brightman's unhappy death; this fresh +uncertainty about Tom Heriot; the certain loss of the gold, and the +disappearance of the will——</p> + +<p>A ring at the visitors' bell aroused me. I listened, as Leah opened +the door, curious to know who could be coming after office hours, +unless it was Sir Edmund Clavering. Lake was in the country.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Strange in, Leah?" And the sound of the sweet voice set my +heart beating.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[164]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Brightman. Please go up."</p> + +<p>A light foot on the stairs, and Annabel entered, holding up a +parchment with its endorsement towards me. "Will of Sir Ralph +Clavering."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Annabel! you are my guardian angel!"</p> + +<p>I seized the deed and her hands together. She smiled, and drew away +the latter.</p> + +<p>"I still thought the parchment I spoke of might be the missing one," +she explained, "and when I got home I looked in papa's secretaire. +There it was."</p> + +<p>"And you have come back to bring it to me!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I have. It would have been cruel to let you pass another +night of suspense. I came as soon as I had dined."</p> + +<p>"Who is with you?"</p> + +<p>"No one; I came in by the omnibus. In two omnibuses really, for the +first one only brought me as far as Charing Cross."</p> + +<p>"You came in by omnibus! And alone?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Who was to know me, or<span class="pagenum">[165]</span> what could harm me? I kept my veil +down. I would not order the carriage out again. It might have +disturbed mamma, and she is in bed with one of her worst headaches. +And now, Charles, I must hasten back again."</p> + +<p>"Wait one moment, Annabel, whilst I lock up this doubly-precious +will."</p> + +<p>"Why? You are not going to trouble yourself to accompany me, when you +are so busy? It is not in the least necessary. I shall return home +just as safely as I came here."</p> + +<p>"You silly child! That you have come here at night and alone, I cannot +help; but what would Mrs. Brightman say to me if I suffered you to go +back in the same manner?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was not quite right," she returned laughingly; "but I +only thought of the pleasure of restoring the will."</p> + +<p>I locked it up in the safe, and went downstairs with her. Why Mr. +Brightman should have taken the will home puzzled me considerably; but +the relief to my mind was<span class="pagenum">[166]</span> inexpressible, and I felt quite a gush of +remorse towards Lady Clavering for having unjustly suspected her.</p> + +<p>The prosy old omnibus, as it sped on its way to Clapham, was to me as +an Elysian chariot. And we had it to ourselves the whole way, but +never a word passed between us that might not have been spoken before +a committee of dowagers. In fact, we talked chiefly of Miss Brightman. +I began it by asking how she was.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Lucy is very delicate indeed," replied Annabel. "Papa's death +has tried her greatly: and anything that tries her at once affects her +chest. She says she shall not be able to risk another winter in +England, even at Hastings."</p> + +<p>"Where would she go?"</p> + +<p>"To Madeira. At least, she thinks so now. In a letter mamma received +from her yesterday, Aunt Lucy said she should go there in the autumn."</p> + +<p>"She will find it very dull and lonely—all by herself."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[167]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes," sighed Annabel. "Mamma said she should send me with her. But of +course I could not go—and leave mamma. I wish I had a sister! One of +us might then accompany Aunt Lucy, and the other remain at home. What +do you think that stupid Hatch said?" cried Annabel, running on. "We +were talking about it at lunch, and Hatch was in the room. 'It's just +the best thing you can do, Miss Annabel, to go with your aunt,' she +declared, following up mamma's remark."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Mrs. Brightman may take it into her head to go to Madeira +also?"</p> + +<p>Annabel made a movement of dissent. "No, I don't think she would do +that, Charles. She and Aunt Lucy used to be the very best of friends, +but lately there has been some coolness between them. The reason is +not known to me, but I fancy Hatch knows it."</p> + +<p>"Hatch seems to be quite a confidential attendant on your mamma."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[168]</span></p> + +<p>"Oh yes, she is so. She has lived with us so long, you see; and mamma, +when she was Miss Chantry, knew Hatch when she was quite a child. They +both come from the same place—near Malvern, in Worcestershire. Aunt +Lucy and mamma were intimate in early days, and it was through that +intimacy that papa first knew Miss Chantry. Why she and Aunt Lucy +should have grown cool to one another now, I cannot tell; but they +have done so—and oh, I am sorry for it. I love Aunt Lucy very, very +much," added the girl enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure I love the name—Lucy," I said, laughing. "It was my +mother's."</p> + +<p>The evening was yet early when we reached Mrs. Brightman's, for eight +o'clock was striking. Hatch, in her new mourning, came stealing down +the stairs with a quiet footfall, her black cap-strings flying as +usual.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Annabel, where have you been?" she cried. "I couldn't +<i>imagine</i> what had become of you."</p> + +<p>"I had to go out, Hatch—to take a deed<span class="pagenum">[169]</span> to the office that poor papa +had brought home and left here. Why? Has mamma wanted me?"</p> + +<p>"Not she," returned Hatch. "She has just dropped off into a doze, and +I am trying to keep the house free from noise. I thought you had been +spirited away, Miss Annabel, and that's the truth."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Brightman has one of her bad headaches?" I remarked.</p> + +<p>Hatch looked at me; then quickly at her young mistress: as much as to +say: "You've been telling him that, Miss Annabel."</p> + +<p>"It is that bad to-night, Mr. Charles, that her temples is fit to +split," she answered. "Since master's death she have had 'em a'most +constant—and no wonder, with all the worry and the shock it brought +her. Are you going already, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Will you not stay for tea?" asked Annabel.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, thank you," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I'll let you out quietly," said Hatch,<span class="pagenum">[170]</span> advancing towards the +hall-door. "And mind, Miss Annabel, you are not to go anigh your +mamma's room to waken her," she added, looking back dictatorially. +"When one is racked with pain, body and mind, sleep is more precious +than gold."</p> + +<p>Hatch had lived there during the whole of Annabel's life, and could +not always lay aside the authoritative manner she had exercised +towards the child; possibly did not try to do so.</p> + +<p>Great sway was held by Hatch in the household, and Mrs. Brightman +appeared to sanction it. Certainly she never in any way interfered +with it. But Hatch, always kindly, was a favourite with the servants.</p> + +<p>With her shrewdness, capability and strong sense, it seemed a marvel +that she should not have improved in manners and in her way of +speaking. But she remained very much the same rough diamond that she +had always been. Strangers were wont to feel surprise that Mrs. +Brightman, herself so refined a woman, should put up with Hatch<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> as +her personal attendant; and in her attacks of illness Hatch would be +in her mistress's room for hours together. At this time I knew nothing +of Hatch's antecedents, very little of Mrs. Brightman's; or of matters +relating to the past; and when circumstances brought me into Hatch's +confidence, she enlightened me upon some points of the family history. +A few of her communications I cannot do better than insert here, +improving somewhat upon her parts of speech.</p> + +<p>I recall the scene now. It was a lovely moonlit evening, not long +after the time of which I am writing. I had gone to Clapham to inquire +after Mrs. Brightman, who was then seriously ill, and kept her +chamber. Strolling about the garden in the soft twilight, wishing +Annabel was at home instead of at Hastings, Hatch came out and joined +me, and at once fell to chatting without ceremony. I made a remark, +quite by chance, that touched upon the subject of Mrs. Brightman's +early life; it was immediately taken up by Hatch and enlarged upon. I +heard<span class="pagenum">[172]</span> much to which I had hitherto been a stranger.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Chantry and his wife, who was the daughter of Lord Onyx, +lived at their seat, Chantry Hall, a beautiful place not far from +Malvern in Worcestershire. They had three children—George, Frederic +and Emma, who were reared in all the pride and pomp of the Chantry +family. The property was strictly entailed. It would descend to George +Chantry at his father's death; and as Colonel Chantry had no other +property whatever, and as he lived not only up to his income but +beyond it, the future look-out for the younger son and the daughter +was not a very great one.</p> + +<p>"Such a dash they kept up," said Hatch, warming with her subject. "The +Colonel liked show and parade, and Madam, as we always called her, had +been born to it. She was the Honourable Mrs. Chantry, you see, sir, +and chose to live according. They visited all the noble families round +about, and were visited back again. The Somers' at Eastnor Castle, the +Lyons' at Maddresfield, the<span class="pagenum">[173]</span> Foleys at Whitley, the other Foleys at +Stoke Edith, the Coventrys over at Croome, the Lechmeres at the Rhydd, +the Hornyholds at Blacknore Park, and the Parkingtons at +Ombersley—but there'd be no end if I stopped to tell you the half of +'em. Besides that, Mrs. Chantry counted a near relative in one of the +cathedral prebendaries at Worcester—and for pride and exclusiveness +some of those old prebendaries capped the world. So that——"</p> + +<p>"But, Hatch, why are you telling me this?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"To give you a notion of what my mistress was accustomed to when she +was Miss Emma Chantry," promptly replied Hatch. "Well, Mr. Charles, +they grew up, those three children, and I watched 'em grow; not that I +was as old as they were; and I looked upon 'em as the finest and +grandest young people in the world. The two sons spent a good deal +more than they ought. Mr. Frederic especially, and the Colonel had to +find a lot o' money, for 'twas wanted on<span class="pagenum">[174]</span> all sides, and folks +wondered how he did it. The end to it came all on a sudden—death."</p> + +<p>"Whose death?"</p> + +<p>"The Colonel's, sir. Mr. George, who was then Captain Chantry, and +about twenty-seven years old, took the estate. But it was frightfully +encumbered, and he complained bitterly to his mother that he should be +a poor man for years and years to come. Madam resented what he said, +and a quarrel ensued. She would not remain at the Hall, as he had +expected her to do, but took a cottage at Malvern, and went into it +with her daughter, with a parade of humility. She did not live very +long after that, and Miss Emma was thrown on the world. Captain +Chantry was married, then, to an earl's daughter; but his wife and +Miss Emma did not get on together. Miss Emma refused to make her home +at the Hall with Lady Grace, and she came to London on a visit to Miss +Lucy Brightman, whose mother was living there. She and Miss Lucy had +been at a finishing school together years<span class="pagenum">[175]</span> before, and they had kept +up their friendship. It was there she first saw Mr. Brightman, who was +a great many years older than his sister; and it ended in their being +married."</p> + +<p>"And you came into their service, I suppose, Hatch?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir. They had been married near upon twelve months when young +Mrs. Brightman found occasion to discharge two or three of her +servants: and she wrote to the late housekeeper at Chantry Hall, +asking her to find her some from our neighbourhood. London servants +were <i>frightful</i>, she said: fine, lazy, extravagant and insolent. +Mother heard about it, and spoke for me to go as under-housemaid. +Well, I was engaged, Mr. Charles, and I came up here to Clapham: and I +was called 'Hatch' from the beginning, because my Christian name, +Emma, was the same as my lady's. Soon after this, Miss Annabel was +born. It was my duty to wait upon the nurse and the sick-room; and my +lady—who was ill and<span class="pagenum">[176]</span> weakly for a long while—grew to like to have +me there. She would talk about the old place to me, for you see I knew +all the people in it as well as she did. Next, she made me +upper-housemaid; and in a very few years, for she had found out how +clever I was at dressmaking and with the needle generally, I became +her maid."</p> + +<p>"And you are in her confidence, Hatch?" I rejoined. "Deservedly so, I +am sure."</p> + +<p>"In a measure I am, Mr. Charles. A lady like my Missis, who never +loses her pride day nor night, cannot descend to be over-confidential +with an inferior. But I know she values me—and so did my poor master. +I mayn't be polished, Mr. Charles, but I'd go through fire and water +for them any day."</p> + +<p>And I am sure she would have done so.</p> + +<p>Well, this was a portion of what Hatch told me. But I must now go back +to the night whose events were interrupted for the purpose of +recording these details. Not that there is anything more to relate of +the night<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> in question. Leaving a message that I would call on Mrs. +Brightman in good time the following evening, wishing Annabel +good-night, and Hatch also, I returned home.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="150" height="159" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[178]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i014a.jpg" width="400" height="110" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">PERRY'S REVELATION.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-d-quote.jpg" width="92" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">D</span>EAR STRANGE</b>,—Have you seen the news in to-day's paper? I have just +caught sight of it. If the <i>Vengeance</i> has foundered, or whatever the +mishap may be, and Tom Heriot should be one of the escaped prisoners, +he will be sure to make his way home. Rely upon it he has not grown +less reckless than he was, but probably has become more so. What +trouble may not come of it? Do try and get at the particulars +officially, as to whether there's truth in the report, or not; and let +me know without delay.</p> + +<p class="author">Very truly yours,</p> + +<p class="right smcap">Level.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p> + +<p>Letters from Paris and the Continent generally were then usually +delivered about mid-day. I was talking with Lennard in the front +office when this one arrived. The clerks had gone to dinner.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard the rumour about the ship <i>Vengeance</i>, Lennard?" I +asked, laying down Lord Level's letter.</p> + +<p>"I read it yesterday," he answered.</p> + +<p>"I wonder how I could learn whether there's any foundation for it?"</p> + +<p>Before he could answer me, we were interrupted by Major Carlen. He was +in his usual state of excitement; his face lengthened, his arms thrown +about, and his everlasting blue cloak trailing about him. I slipped +the letter into my desk.</p> + +<p>"Here's a pretty go, Charles!" he exclaimed. "Have you heard of it +yet? That convict ship's gone to the bottom, and Tom Heriot has +escaped."</p> + +<p>"You should not assert that so positively, Major Carlen," I +remonstrated. "It is not<span class="pagenum">[180]</span> certain that any of the men have escaped, I +suppose. If they have, Tom Heriot may not be one of them."</p> + +<p>"But they have escaped," stuttered the gray old man, plumping himself +down on a stool, around which his cloak fell like so much drapery. +"Five have got off, and Tom is one of them."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know it? How could I tell you if I didn't know it? Half an +hour ago I met Percival in Downing Street, and he told me."</p> + +<p>What little hope had been left within me took wings and flew away. +Percival was First Lord of the Admiralty. He would certainly know the +truth.</p> + +<p>"Government has had official news of it," went on the Major gloomily; +"and with it a list of the fugitives."</p> + +<p>"And Tom's name is amongst them?"</p> + +<p>"Tom's name is amongst them."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Lennard had gone into the other room. Major Carlen +rose,<span class="pagenum">[181]</span> saying something about lunch waiting for him at his club.</p> + +<p>"Mark you, Charles: if Tom takes it into that rattle-pate of his to +worm his way back to these shores, there may be the devil to pay. I +hope with all my heart Level won't hear of this. The disgrace has been +a precious thorn to him from the first."</p> + +<p>"Blanche knows nothing at all of the matter as yet. She thinks Tom is +with his regiment in India. The last time I saw her in Paris, not long +before Mr. Brightman's death, she asked me what could be the reason +Tom did not write to her."</p> + +<p>"Much better tell her, and get it over," spoke the Major. "I should, +if I were Level. He is more careful of her than she deserves—silly +chit!"</p> + +<p>Major Carlen and his cloak swung out again, the clerks came back, and +the day and its duties went on. I wrote to Lord Level; giving him the +substance of what the Major had heard, and telling him that I thought +there could be little fear of Tom Heriot's<span class="pagenum">[182]</span> venturing back to England. +He could never be so reckless as to risk the danger.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, I started for Mrs. Brightman's, and was admitted by the +butler, who told me, in answer to my inquiry, that his mistress had +been ill all day and had not come down. Tea waited on the drawing-room +table, but no one was in the room. Presently Annabel entered.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you should have had the trouble to come, when perhaps you +could not spare the time," she said. "Mamma is not well enough to see +you."</p> + +<p>"I was not busy to-night, Annabel. Perry has just told me your mamma +has not been down to-day. Is her illness anything more than would be +caused by these bad headaches? Do you fear anything serious?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—no. I—I hope not."</p> + +<p>Her voice and manner were excessively subdued, as if she could +scarcely speak from fear of breaking down. She turned to the table, +evidently to avoid my notice, and busied herself with the teacups.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[183]</span></p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Annabel?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she faintly answered, though her tears were even then +falling. But I knew that some great trouble must be upon her.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Brightman vexed with you for having come up last night with +that deed?"</p> + +<p>"No; oh no! I told mamma about it this morning, and she said I had +done quite right to take it up, but that I ought to have gone in the +carriage."</p> + +<p>"What, then, is causing you this grief?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot expect me to be in very good spirits as yet," she replied: +which was a decided evasion. "There are times—when I feel—the +loss——"</p> + +<p>She fairly broke down, and, sinking into a chair, cried bitterly and +without concealment. I waited until she had become calmer.</p> + +<p>"Annabel, my dear, sorrow for your loss is not all that disturbs your +peace to-night. What else is there?"</p> + +<p>"It is true that I have had something to<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> vex me," she admitted after +a pause. "But I cannot tell you about it."</p> + +<p>"It is a momentary trouble, I hope; one that will pass away——"</p> + +<p>"It will never pass away," she interrupted, with another burst of +emotion. "It will be a weight and a grief upon me as long as life +shall last. I almost wish I had died with my father, rather than have +to live and bear it."</p> + +<p>I took her hands in mine, and spoke deliberately. "If it be so serious +a trouble as that, I must know it, Annabel."</p> + +<p>"And if it were of a nature to be spoken of, you should know it. But +it is not, and I can tell you nothing."</p> + +<p>"Could you speak of it to your father, were he still living?"</p> + +<p>"We should be compelled to speak of it, I fear. But——"</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, you can speak of it to me. From henceforth you must +look upon me as in his place; your protector; your best friend: one +who will share your cares, perhaps more closely than he could have<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> +done; who will strive to soothe them with a love that could not have +been his. In a short time, Annabel, I shall ask you to give me the +legal right to be and do this."</p> + +<p>"It can never be," she replied, lifting her tearful eyes to mine.</p> + +<p>I looked at her with an amused smile. I knew she loved me—and what +other obstacle could exist? Mrs. Brightman might oppose it at first, +but I did not despair of winning her over in the end.</p> + +<p>"Not quite yet, I know," I answered her. "In a few months' time."</p> + +<p>"Charles, you misunderstand me. I said it could never be. <i>Never.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I certainly do not understand that. Had your father lived, it would +have been; and I do not say this without reason for the assertion. I +believe that he would have given you to me, Annabel, heartily, with +all his good will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that may be true; I think you are right; but——"</p> + +<p>"But what, then? One word, Annabel:<span class="pagenum">[186]</span> the objection would not surely +come from your heart?"</p> + +<p>"No, it would not," she softly answered, blushing deeply. "Please do +not speak of these things."</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to speak of them so soon. But I wish to remind you +that I do possess a right to share your troubles, of whatever nature +those troubles may be. Come, my darling, tell me your grief."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I cannot," she answered, "and you know I am not one to refuse +anything from caprice. Let me go, Charles; I must make the tea."</p> + +<p>I did let her go; but I bent over her first, without warning, and +kissed her fervently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charles!"</p> + +<p>"As an earnest of a brother's love and care for you, Annabel, if you +object for the present to the other," I whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; be a brother to me," she returned, with strange yearning. +"No other tie can now be ours."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[187]</span></p> + +<p>"My love, it <i>shall</i> be."</p> + +<p>She rang for the urn, which Perry brought in, and then sat down to the +table. I placed myself opposite to her and drew the dry toast towards +me. "Mrs. Brightman prefers this, I believe; shall I prepare some for +her?"</p> + +<p>Annabel did not answer, and I looked up. She was struggling with her +tears again. "I fear mamma is not well enough to eat," she said, in a +stifled voice.</p> + +<p>"Annabel!" I suddenly exclaimed, a light flashing upon me: "your +mother is worse than you have confessed: it is her illness which is +causing you this pain."</p> + +<p>Far greater than any that had gone before was the storm of emotion +that shook her now. I rose in consternation and approached her, and +she buried her face in her hands. It was very singular. Annabel +Brightman was calm, sensible, open as the day. She seemed to-night to +have borrowed another character. Suddenly she rose, and nervously +putting my hand aside, walked once or twice<span class="pagenum">[188]</span> up and down the room, +evidently to obtain calmness. Then she dried her eyes, and sat down +again to the tea-tray. I confess that I looked on in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Will you be kind enough to ring, Charles? Twice, please. It is for +Hatch."</p> + +<p>I did so, and returned to my seat. Hatch appeared in answer to her +signal. Annabel held the cup of tea she had poured out.</p> + +<p>"Mamma's tea, Hatch."</p> + +<p>"She won't take none, miss."</p> + +<p>It is impossible to resist the temptation of now and then giving the +grammar and idioms Hatch had brought from her country home, and had +never since attempted to alter or improve. But what Hatch lacked in +accuracy she made up in fluency, for a greater talker never flourished +under the sun.</p> + +<p>"If you could get her to drink a cup, it might do her good," pursued +Hatch's young mistress. "Take it up, and try."</p> + +<p>Hatch flirted round, giving me full view of her black streamers, and +brought forward<span class="pagenum">[189]</span> a small silver waiter. "But 'twon't be of no manner +of use, Miss Annabel."</p> + +<p>"And here's some toast, Hatch," cried I.</p> + +<p>"Toast, sir! Missis wouldn't look at it. I might as well offer her a +piece of Ingy-rubbins to eat. Miss Annabel knows——"</p> + +<p>"The tea will be cold, Hatch; take it at once," interposed Miss +Annabel.</p> + +<p>"Annabel, who is attending your mamma? Mr. Close, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Close. She never will have anyone else. I fear mamma must have +been ill for some time; but I have been so much away with Aunt Lucy +that I never noticed it before."</p> + +<p>"Ay; Hastings and your aunt will miss you. I suppose Mrs. Brightman +will not spare you now as she has hitherto done."</p> + +<p>Annabel bent her head over the tea-tray, and a burning colour dyed her +face. What had my words contained to call up the emotion? Presently +she suddenly rose and left the room, saying she must see whether the +tea had been taken. She returned with the<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> empty cup, looking somewhat +more cheerful.</p> + +<p>"See, Charles, mamma <i>has</i> taken it: I do believe she would take more +nourishment, if Hatch would only press it upon her. She is so very +weak and depressed."</p> + +<p>Annabel filled the cup again, and Hatch came in for it. "Suppose you +were to take up a little toast as well; mamma might eat it," suggested +Annabel, placing the cup on the waiter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, not to contrairy you, Miss Annabel," returned Hatch. "I +know what use it will be, though."</p> + +<p>She held out the waiter, and I was putting the small plate of toast +upon it, when screams arose from the floor above. Loud, piercing +screams; screams of fear or terror; and I felt sure that they came +from Mrs. Brightman. Hatch dropped the waiter on to the table, +upsetting the tea, and dashed out of the room.</p> + +<p>I thought nothing less than that Mrs. Brightman was on fire, and +should have been<span class="pagenum">[191]</span> upstairs as speedily as Hatch; but Annabel darted +before me, closed the drawing-room door, and stood against it to +prevent my exit, her arms clasping mine in the extremity of agitation, +the shrieks above still sounding in our ears.</p> + +<p>"Charles, you must not go! Charles, stay here! I ask it of you in my +father's name."</p> + +<p>"Annabel, are you in your senses? Your mother may be on fire! She must +be on fire: do you not hear her screams?"</p> + +<p>"No; it is nothing of that sort. I know what it is. You could do no +good; only harm. I am in my own house—its mistress just now—and I +tell you that you must not go up."</p> + +<p>I looked down at Annabel. Her face was the hue of death, and though +she shook from head to foot, her voice was painfully imperative. The +screams died away.</p> + +<p>A sound of servants was heard in the hall, and Annabel turned to open +the door. "You will not take advantage of my being obliged<span class="pagenum">[192]</span> to do so, +Charles?" she hurriedly whispered. "You will not attempt to go up?"</p> + +<p>She glided out and stood before the servants, arresting their progress +as she had arrested mine. "It is only a similar attack to the one +mamma had last night," she said, addressing them. "You know that it +arises from nervousness, and your going up would only increase it. She +prefers that Hatch alone should be with her; and if Hatch requires +help, she will ring."</p> + +<p>They moved away again slowly; and Annabel came back to the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Charles," she said, "I am going upstairs. Pray continue your tea +without waiting for me; I will return as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>And all this time she was looking like a ghost and shaking like an +aspen leaf.</p> + +<p>I crossed to the fire almost in a dream and stood with my back to it. +My eyes were on the tea-table, but they were eyes that saw not. All +this seemed very strange. Something attracted my attention. It was the +tea that Hatch had spilt, slowly filtering<span class="pagenum">[193]</span> down to the carpet. I rang +the bell to have it attended to.</p> + +<p>Perry answered the ring. Seeing what was wrong, he brought a cloth and +knelt down upon the carpet. I stood where I was, and looked on, my +mind far away.</p> + +<p>"Curious thing, sir, this illness of mistress's," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" I dreamily replied.</p> + +<p>"The worst is, sir, I don't know how we shall pacify the maids," he +continued. "I and Hatch both told them last night what stupids they +were to take it up so, and that what missis saw could not affect them. +But now that she has seen it a second time—and of course there was no +mistaking the screams just now—they are turning rebellious over it. +The cook's the most senseless old thing in the world! She vows she +won't sleep in the house to-night; and if she carries out her threat, +sir, and goes away, she'll spread it all over the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>Was Perry talking Sanscrit? It was about as intelligible to me as +though he had<span class="pagenum">[194]</span> been. He was still over the carpet, and in +matter-of-fact tones which shook with his exertion, for he was a fat +man, and was rubbing vehemently, he continued:</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I couldn't have believed it. I wouldn't have believed it, +sir, but that I have been in the house and a witness to it, as one may +say; at any rate, heard the screams. For a more quieter, amiabler, and +peaceabler man never lived than my master, kind to all about him, and +doing no harm to anybody; and why he should 'Walk' is beyond our +comprehension."</p> + +<p>"Why he should--what?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Walk, sir," repeated Perry. "Hatch says it's no doubt on account of +his dying a sudden death; that he must have left something untold, and +won't be laid till he has told it. It's apparent, I take it, that it +concerns Mrs. Brightman, by his appearing to her."</p> + +<p>"What is it that has appeared to Mrs. Brightman?" I asked, doubting my +ears.</p> + +<p>Perry arrested his occupation, and raised himself to look at me. "My +dead master,<span class="pagenum">[195]</span> sir," he whispered mysteriously. "Master's ghost."</p> + +<p>"Your master's—ghost!" I echoed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. But I thought my young lady had told you."</p> + +<p>I felt an irreverent inclination to laugh, in spite of the serious +surroundings of the topic. Ghosts and I had never had any affinity +with each other. I had refused to believe in them as a child, and most +unhesitatingly did so as a man. When I returned "The Old English +Baron" to Annabel, some years before, she wished she had never lent it +to me, because I declined to accept the ghost.</p> + +<p>"I am sure, sir, I never supposed but what Miss Annabel must have +imparted it to you," repeated Perry, as if doubting his own discretion +in having done so. "But somebody ought to know it, if it's only to +advise; and who so fit as you, sir, master's friend and partner? <i>I</i> +should send for a clergyman, and let him try to lay it; that's what I +should do."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[196]</span></p> + +<p>"Perry, my good man," and I looked at his bald head and rotund form, +"you are too old, and I should have thought too sensible, to believe +in ghosts. How can you possibly listen for a moment to stories so +absurd as these?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," argued Perry, "my mistress did see it or she didn't; and +if she didn't, why should she scream and say she did? You heard her +screams just now; and they were worse yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Did you see the ghost?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I was not up there. Hatch thought she saw it as she went +into the room. It was in a corner, and wore its shroud: but when we +got up there it was gone."</p> + +<p>"When was all this?"</p> + +<p>"Last night, sir. When you left, Miss Annabel took off her bonnet in +the drawing-room and rang for tea, which I carried in. Presently Hatch +ran in at the front door, and Miss Annabel told me to call her in. +'Has mamma had her tea, Hatch?' said<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> my young lady. 'Yes, she has,' +returned Hatch; which was a downright falsehood, for she had not had +any. But Hatch is master and missis too, as far as we servants go, and +nobody dares contradict her. Perhaps she only said it to keep Mrs. +Brightman undisturbed, for she knows her ailments and her wants and +ways better than Miss Annabel. So, sir, I went down, and Hatch went +up, but not, it seems, into Mrs. Brightman's room, for she thought she +was asleep. In two or three minutes, sir, the most frightful shrieks +echoed through the house; those to-night were nothing half as bad. +Hatch was first in the chamber, Miss Annabel next, and we servants +last. My mistress stood at the foot of the bed, which she must have +left——"</p> + +<p>"Was she dressed?" I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; she was in her night-gown, or a dressing-gown it might have +been. She looked like—like—I don't hardly know what to say she +looked like, Mr. Strange, but as one might suppose anybody would look +who<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> had seen a ghost. She was not a bit like herself. Her eyes were +starting and her face was red with terror; almost all alight, as one +may say; indeed, she looked mad. As to her precise words, sir, I can't +tell you what they were, for when we gathered that it was master's +ghost which she had seen, appearing in its shroud in the corner by the +wardrobe, the women servants set up a cry and ran away. That stupid +cook went into hysterics, and declared she wouldn't stop another night +in the house."</p> + +<p>"What was done with Mrs. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Annabel—she seemed terrified out of her senses, too, poor young +lady—bade me hasten for Mr. Close; but Hatch put in her word and +stopped me, and said the first thing to be done was to get those +shrieking maids downstairs. Before I and John had well done it—and +you'd never have forgot it, sir, had you seen 'em hanging on to our +coat tails—Hatch followed us down, bringing her mistress's orders +that Mr. Close was not to be fetched; and indeed, as Hatch<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> remarked, +of what use could a doctor be in a ghost affair? But this morning Miss +Annabel sent for him."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Brightman must have had a dream, Perry."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I don't know; it might have been; but she is not one given +to dreams and fancies. And she must have had the same dream again +now."</p> + +<p>"Not unlikely. But there's no ghost, Perry; take my word for it."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will be found so, sir," returned Perry, shaking his head as +he retired; for he had done his work and had no further pretext for +lingering.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i015.jpg" width="150" height="178" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[200]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i016a.jpg" width="400" height="114" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="h3">SOMEONE ELSE SEEN.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-s.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">S</span>TANDING</b> with my back to the fire in the drawing-room, waiting for +Annabel's return, the tea growing cold on the table, I puzzled over +what I had just heard, and could make nothing of it. That Mr. +Brightman's spirit should appear to his wife seemed to be utterly +incomprehensible; was, of course, incredible. That many people +believed in the reappearance of the dead, I well knew; but I had not +yet made up my mind to become one of them.</p> + +<p>It was inexplicable that a woman in this enlightened age, moving in +Mrs. Brightman's<span class="pagenum">[201]</span> station, could yield to so strange a delusion. But, +allowing that she had done so, did this sufficiently explain Annabel's +deep-seated grief? or the remark that her grief would end only with +her life? or the hint that she could never be my wife? And why should +she refuse to confide these facts to me? why, indeed, have prevented +my going upstairs? I might have reassured Mrs. Brightman far more +effectually than Hatch; who, by Perry's account, was one of the +believers in the ghost theory. It was altogether past comprehension, +and I was trying hard to arrive at a solution when Hatch came in, her +idioms in full play.</p> + +<p>"My young lady's complemens, sir, and will you excuse her coming down +again to-night? she is not equal to seeing nobody. And she says truth, +poor child," added Hatch, "for she's quite done over."</p> + +<p>"How is your mistress now, Hatch?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's better, she is. Her nerves have been shook, sir, of late, +you know, through the shock of master's unexpected<span class="pagenum">[202]</span> death, and in +course she starts at shadders. I won't leave the room again, without +the gas a-burning full on."</p> + +<p>"What is this tale about Mr. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>Hatch and her streamers swung round, and she closed the door before +answering. "Miss Annabel never told you <i>that</i>; did she, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I have heard a word or two elsewhere. You fancy you saw a +ghost?"</p> + +<p>"Missis do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought you did also."</p> + +<p>"I just believe it's a delusion of hers, Mr. Charles, and nothing +more," returned Hatch confidently. "If master had been a bad sort of +character, or had taken his own life, or anything of that, why, the +likelihood is that he might have walked, dying sudden. But being what +he was, a Christian gentleman that never missed church, and said his +own prayers at home on his knees regular—which I see him a doing of +once, when I went bolt into his dressing-room, not beknowing<span class="pagenum">[203]</span> he was +in it—why, it is not likely, sir, that he comes again. I don't say as +much to them downstairs; better let them be frightened at his ghost +than at—at—anybody else's. I wish it was master's ghost, and nothing +worse," abruptly concluded Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Nothing worse! Some of you would think that bad enough, were it +possible for it to appear."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, ghosts is bad enough, no doubt. But realities is worse."</p> + +<p>So it was of no use waiting. I finished my cup of cold tea, and turned +to go, telling Hatch that I would come again the following evening to +see how things were progressing.</p> + +<p>"Yes, do, Mr. Charles; you had better," assented Hatch, who had a +habit, not arising from want of respect, but from her long and +confidential services, and the plenitude of her attachment, of +identifying herself with the family in the most unceremonious manner. +"Miss Annabel's life hasn't been a bed of roses since this ghost +appeared,<span class="pagenum">[204]</span> and I fear it is not likely to be, and if there's anybody +that can say a word to comfort her, it must be you, sir; for in course +I've not had my eyes quite blinded. Eyes is eyes, sir, and has their +sight in 'em, and we can't always shut 'em, if we would."</p> + +<p>Hatch was crossing the hall to open the door for me, and I had taken +my great-coat from the stand, when Annabel flew down the stairs, her +face white, her voice sharp with terror.</p> + +<p>"Hatch! Hatch! mamma is frightened again!"</p> + +<p>Hatch ran up, two stairs at a time, and I went after her. Mrs. +Brightman had followed Annabel, and now stood outside her chamber-door +in her white dressing-gown, trembling violently. "He is watching me +again," she panted: "he stands there in his grave-clothes!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you come," cried Hatch, putting Annabel back unceremoniously. +"I shall get my missis round best alone; I'm not afraid of no +ghostesses, not I. Give a look<span class="pagenum">[205]</span> to her, sir," she added, pointing to +Annabel, as she drew Mrs. Brightman into her chamber, and fastened the +door.</p> + +<p>Annabel, her hands clasped on her chest, shook as she stood. I put my +arm round her waist and took her down to the drawing-room. I closed +the door, and Annabel sat down on the sofa near the fire.</p> + +<p>"My darling, how can I comfort you?"</p> + +<p>A burst of grief prevented her from replying—grief that I had rarely +witnessed. I let it spend itself; you can do nothing else with emotion +so violent: and when it was over I sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>"Annabel, you might have confided this to me at first. It can be +nothing but a temporary delusion of Mrs. Brightman's, arising from a +relaxed state of the nervous system. Imaginary spectral +appearances——"</p> + +<p>"Who told you about that?" she interrupted, in agitation. "How came +you to hear it?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I heard it from Perry. But<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> he did not break faith in +speaking of it, for he thought you had already told me. There can be +no reason why I should not know it; but I am sorry that it has +penetrated to the servants."</p> + +<p>Poor Annabel laid her head on the arm of the sofa, and moaned.</p> + +<p>"I do not like to leave you or Mrs. Brightman either, in this +distress. Shall I remain in the house to-night? I can send a message +to Leah——"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no," she hastily interrupted, as if the proposal had startled +her. And then she continued slowly, hesitatingly, pausing between her +words: "You do not—of course—believe that—that papa——"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do not," was my hearty reply, relieving her from her +embarrassing question. "Nor you either, Annabel: although, as a child, +you devoured every ghost-story you came near."</p> + +<p>She made no confirmatory reply, only looked down, and kept silence. I +gazed at her wonderingly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[207]</span></p> + +<p>"It terrified me so much last night," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"What terrified you, Annabel?"</p> + +<p>"I was terrified altogether; at mamma's screams, at her words, at the +nervous state she was in. Mr. Close has helped to frighten me, too, +for I heard him say this morning to Hatch that such cases have been +known to end in madness."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Close is not worth a rush," cried I, suppressing what I had been +about to utter impulsively. "So he knows of this fancy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hatch told him. Indeed, Charles, I do not see that there was any +help for it."</p> + +<p>"He will observe discretion, I suppose. Still, I almost wish you had +called in someone who is a stranger to the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"Mamma will not have a stranger, and you know we must not act in +opposition to her will. She seemed so much better this morning; quite +herself again."</p> + +<p>"Of course. With the return of daylight<span class="pagenum">[208]</span> these fancies subside. But as +it seems there is nothing I can do for you, Annabel, I must be going, +and will come again to-morrow evening."</p> + +<p>The conclusion seemed to startle her. "Had—you—better come?" she +cried, with much hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Annabel, I had better come," I firmly replied. "And I cannot +understand why you should wish me not to do so, as I can see you do."</p> + +<p>"Only—if mamma should be ill again—it is all so uncomfortable. I +dare say you never even finished your tea," glancing at the table. All +trivial excuses, to conceal her real and inexplicable motive, I felt +certain. "Good-night, Charles."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand to me. I did not take it: I took her instead, +and held her to my heart. "You are not yourself to-night, Annabel, for +there is some further mystery in all this, and you will not tell it +me. But the time will soon come, my dearest, when our mysteries and +our sorrows must be shared<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> in common." And all the answer I received +was a look of despair.</p> + +<p>In passing through the iron gates, I met Mr. Close. The moon to-night +was obscured by clouds, but the gas-lamps revealed us plainly to each +other. "How is Mrs. Brightman?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Very ill and very strange," I answered. "Do you apprehend any serious +result?"</p> + +<p>"Well—no," said he; "not immediately. Of course, it will tell upon +her in the long-run."</p> + +<p>"She has had another attack of nervous terror to-night; in fact, two +attacks."</p> + +<p>"Ay; seen the ghost again, I suppose. I suspected she would, so +thought I would just call in."</p> + +<p>"Would it not be as well—excuse me, Mr. Close, but you are aware how +intimately connected I was with Mr. Brightman—to call in a +consultation? Not that there is the slightest doubt of your skill and +competency, but it appears to be so singular a malady; and in the +multitude of counsellors there is safety, you know."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[210]</span></p> + +<p>"It is the commonest malady we have to deal with," returned he; and +the answer was so unexpected that I could only stare in silence.</p> + +<p>"Have a consultation if you think it more satisfactory, Mr. Strange. +But it will not produce the slightest benefit; and the less this +matter is allowed to transpire the better. I assure you that all the +faculty combined could not do more for Mrs. Brightman than I am doing. +It is a lamentable disease, but it is one that must run its course."</p> + +<p>He went on to the house, and I got outside an omnibus that was passing +the end of the road, and lighted my cigar, more at sea than ever. If +seeing ghosts was the commonest malady doctors had to deal with, where +had I lived all my life not to have learned it?</p> + +<p>The next afternoon I was surprised by a visit from Perry. He brought +word from his mistress that she was very much better, though not yet +able to see me on business matters; when she felt equal to it, she +would<span class="pagenum">[211]</span> let me know. Miss Annabel, concluded the butler, was gone to +Hastings.</p> + +<p>"To Hastings!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, sir. My mistress decided upon it this morning, and I have +just seen her off by train, with Sarah in attendance on her. Fact is, +sir," added Perry, dropping his voice to a confidential key: "Hatch +whispered to me that it was thought best the poor young lady should be +out of the house while it is so troubled."</p> + +<p>"Troubled!" I repeated, half in scorn.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, sir, you know what it is that's in it," rejoined Perry +simply. "Mr. Close, too, he said Miss Annabel ought to be away from it +just now."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>When every hour of the day is occupied, time glides on insensibly. A +week passed. I heard no news of or from Mrs. Brightman, and did not +altogether care to intrude upon her, unbidden. But when the second +week was also quickly passing, I determined to take an evening to go +to Clapham. Dinner<span class="pagenum">[212]</span> over, I was going downstairs, and met Leah coming +up.</p> + +<p>"If anyone calls, I am out for the evening, Leah," I said to her. "And +tell Watts when he comes in that I have left the <i>Law Times</i> on the +table for Mr. Lake. He must take it round to him."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir."</p> + +<p>I was nearing the top of Essex Street when I met the postman.</p> + +<p>"Anything for me?" I inquired, for I had expected an important letter +all day.</p> + +<p>"I think there is, sir," he replied, looking over his letters under +the gas-lamp. "'Messrs. Brightman and Strange;' there it is, sir."</p> + +<p>I opened it by the same light. It was the expected letter, and +required an immediate answer. So I returned, and letting myself in +with my latch-key, went into the front office to write it.</p> + +<p>Leah had not heard me come in. She was upstairs, deep in one of the +two favourite ballads which now appeared to comprise all<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> her +collection. During office hours Leah was quiet as a mute; but in the +evening she would generally croon over one of these old songs in an +undertone, if she thought that I was out and she had the house to +herself. As she was thinking now, for she sang out in full key, but in +a doleful, monotonous sort of chant. Her voice was still very sweet, +but had lost much of the power of its earlier days. One of these two +songs was a Scotch fragment, beginning "Woe's me, for my heart is +breaking;" the other was "Barbara Allen." Fragmentary also, +apparently; for as Leah sang it there appeared to be neither beginning +nor ending to it.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And as she wandered up and down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She heard the bells a-ringing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as they rang they seemed to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She turned her body round and round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She saw his corpse a-coming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Oh, put him down by this blade's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I may gaze upon him!'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The more she looked, the more she laughed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The further she went from him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her friends they all cried out, 'For shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hard-hearted Barbara Allen!'"<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum">[214]</span></div></div> + +<p>Whether this is the correct version of the ballad or not, I do not +know; it was Leah's version. Many and many a time had I heard it; and +I was hearing it again this evening, when there came a quiet ring at +the door bell. My door was pushed to but not closed, and Leah came +bustling down. Barbara Allen was going on still, but in a more subdued +voice.</p> + +<p>"Do Mr. Strange live here?" was asked, when the door was opened.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he does," responded Leah. "He is out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't want him, ma'am. I only wanted to know if he lived here. +What sort of a man is he?"</p> + +<p>"What sort of a man?" repeated Leah. "A very nice man."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but in looks, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Well, he is very good-looking. Blue eyes, and dark hair, and straight +features. Why do you want to know?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's him. But I don't know about the colour of his eyes; I +thought<span class="pagenum">[215]</span> they was dark. Blue in one light and brown in another, maybe. +A tallish, thinnish man."</p> + +<p>"He's pretty tall; not what can be called a maypole. A little taller +than Mr. Brightman was."</p> + +<p>"Brightman and Strange, that's it? T'other's an old gent, I suppose?" +was the next remark; while I sat, amused at the colloquy.</p> + +<p>"He was not old. He is just dead. Have you any message?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want to leave a message; that's not my business. He told +me he lived here, and I came to make sure of it. A pleasant, sociable +man, ain't he; no pride about him, though he is well off and goes +cruising about in his own yacht."</p> + +<p>"No pride at all with those he knows, whether it's friends or +servants," returned Leah, forgetting her own pride, or at any rate her +discretion, in singing my praises. "Never was anybody pleasanter than +he. But as to a yacht——"</p> + +<p>"Needn't say any more, ma'am; it's the<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> same man. Takes a short pipe +and a social dram occasionally, and makes no bones over it."</p> + +<p>"What?" retorted Leah indignantly. "Mr. Strange doesn't take drams or +smoke short pipes. If he just lights a cigar at night, when business +is over, it's as much as he does. He's a gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Ah," returned the visitor, his tones expressing a patronizing sort of +contempt for Leah's belief in Mr. Strange: "gents that is gents +indoors be not always gents out. Though I don't see why a man need be +reproached with not being a gent because he smokes a honest clay pipe, +and takes a drop short; and Mr. Strange does both, I can tell ye."</p> + +<p>"Then I know he does not," repeated Leah. "And if you knew Mr. +Strange, you wouldn't say it."</p> + +<p>"If I knew Mr. Strange! Perhaps I know him as well as you do, ma'am. +He don't come courting our Betsy without my knowing of him."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[217]</span></p> + +<p>"What do you say he does?" demanded Leah, suppressing her wrath.</p> + +<p>"Why, I say he comes after our Betsy; leastways, I'm a'most sure of +it. And that's why I wanted to know whether this was his house or not, +for I'm not a-going to have her trifled with. She's my only daughter, +and as good as he is. And now that I've got my information I'll say +good-night, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Leah shut the door, and I opened mine. "Who was that, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"My patience, Mr. Charles!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "I thought +you were out, sir."</p> + +<p>"I came in again. Who was that man at the door?"</p> + +<p>"Who's to know, sir—and what does it matter?" cried Leah. "Some +half-tipsy fellow who must have mistaken the house."</p> + +<p>"He did not speak as though he were tipsy at all."</p> + +<p>"You must have heard what he said, sir."</p> + +<p>"I heard."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p> + +<p>Leah turned away, but came back hesitatingly, a wistful expression in +her eyes. I believe she looked upon me as a boy still, and cared for +me as she did when I had been one. "It is not true, Mr. Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is not true, Leah. I neither take drams short, nor go +courting Miss Betsys."</p> + +<p>"Why, no, sir, of course not. I believe I must be getting old and +foolish, Mr. Charles. I should just like to wring that man's neck for +his impudence!" she concluded, as she went upstairs again.</p> + +<p>But what struck me was this: either that one of my clerks was playing +pranks in my name—passing himself off as Mr. Strange, to appear great +and consequential; and if so, I should uncommonly like to know which +of them it was—or else that something was being enacted by those +people who made the sorrow of Leah's life; that daughter of hers and +the husband—as we will call him. For the voice at the door had +sounded honest and the application genuine.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[219]</span></p> + +<p>Posting my letter, I made the best of my way to Clapham. But I had my +journey for nothing, and saw only Perry. His mistress had been getting +much better, he said, but a day or two ago she had a relapse and was +again confined to her room, unable to see anyone. Mr. Close had +ordered her to be kept perfectly quiet. Annabel remained at Hastings.</p> + +<p>"And what about that fright, Perry, that you were all so scared with a +fortnight ago?" I asked, as he strolled by my side back to the iron +gates: for it was useless for me to go in if I could not see Mrs. +Brightman. "Has the house got over it yet?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, it is in the house still," he gravely answered.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the scare?"</p> + +<p>"I mean the ghost, sir. Poor master's spirit."</p> + +<p>I turned to look at his face, plainly enough to be discerned in the +dimness of the foggy night. It was no less grave than his words had +been.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[220]</span></p> + +<p>"The figure does not appear every night, sir; only occasionally," he +resumed; "and always in the same place—in the corner by the wardrobe +in Mrs. Brightman's bedroom. It stands there in its grave-clothes."</p> + +<p>What with the dark trees about us, the weird evening, and Perry's +shrinking tones, I slightly shivered, for all my unbelief.</p> + +<p>"But, Perry, it is <i>impossible</i>, you know. There must be delusion +somewhere. Mrs. Brightman's nerves have been unstrung by her husband's +death."</p> + +<p>"Hatch has seen it twice, Mr. Strange," he rejoined. "Nobody can +suspect Hatch of having nerves. The last time was on Sunday night. It +stood in its shroud, gazing at them—her and the mistress—with a +mournful face. Master's very own face, sir, Hatch says, just as it +used to be in life; only white and ghastly."</p> + +<p>It was a ghastly subject, and the words haunted me all the way back to +town. Once or twice I could have declared that I saw Mr. Brightman's +face, pale and wan, gazing<span class="pagenum">[221]</span> at me through the fog. Certainly Hatch had +neither nerves nor fancies; no living woman within my circle of +acquaintance possessed less. What did it all mean? Where could the +mystery lie?</p> + +<p>Stirring the fire into a blaze when I got into my room, I sat before +it, and tried to think out the problem. But the more I tried, the more +effectually it seemed to elude me.</p> + +<p>With the whir-r-r that it always made, the clock on the mantelpiece +began to strike ten. I started. At the same moment, the door opened +slowly and noiselessly, and Leah glided in. Mysteriously, if I may so +express it: my chamber candlestick carried in one hand, her shoes in +the other. She was barefooted; and, unless I strangely mistook, her +face was as ghastly as the one Perry had been speaking of that night.</p> + +<p>Putting the candlestick on a side-table, slipping her feet into her +shoes, and softly closing the door, she turned to me. Her lips +trembled, her hands worked nervously; she seemed unable to speak.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[222]</span></p> + +<p>"Why, Leah!" I exclaimed, "what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," she then said, in the deepest agitation; "I have seen to-night +that which has almost frightened me to death. I don't know how to tell +you about it. Watts has dropped asleep in his chair in the kitchen, +and I took the opportunity to steal up here. I wouldn't let him hear +it for the world. He is growing suspicious, fancying I'm a bit odd at +times. He'd be true in this, I know, but it may be as well to keep it +from him."</p> + +<p>"But what is it, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"When I saw him, I thought I should have dropped down dead," she went +on, paying no attention to the question. "He stood there with just the +same smile on his face that it used to wear. It was <i>himself</i>, sir; it +was, indeed."</p> + +<p>May I be forgiven for the folly that flashed over me. Occupied as my +mind was with the apparition haunting the house at Clapham, what could +I think but that Leah must have seen the same?</p><p><span class="pagenum">[223]</span></p> + +<p>"You mean Mr. Brightman," I whispered.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, approaching nearer to me, whilst +glancing over her shoulder as if in dread that the ghost were +following her: "does <i>he</i> come again, Mr. Charles? Have you seen him? +Is he in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; but I thought you meant that, Leah. Who is it that you have +seen?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i017.jpg" width="150" height="148" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[224]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i018a.jpg" width="400" height="111" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="h3">PROWLING ABOUT.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-s.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">S</span>O</b> the blow had fallen. What we were dreading had come to pass. Tom +Heriot was back again.</p> + +<p>I sat half-paralyzed with terror. Leah stood before me on the +hearthrug, pouring out her unwelcome disclosure with eager words now +that her first emotion had subsided. She went on with her tale more +coherently, but in undertones.</p> + +<p>"After you had gone out this evening, Mr. Charles, I was in the +kitchen, when one of those small handfuls of gravel I dread to hear +rattled against the window. 'Nancy,' I groaned, my heart failing me. I +could<span class="pagenum">[225]</span> not go to the door, lest Watts should come up and see me, for I +expected him back every minute; and, sure enough, just then I heard +his ring. I gave him the <i>Law Times</i>, as you bade me, sir, telling him +he was to take it round to Mr. Lake at once. When he was gone I ran up +to the door and looked about, and saw Nancy in the shadow of the +opposite house, where she mostly stands when waiting for me. I could +not speak to her then, but told her I would try and come out +presently. Her eldest boy, strolling away with others at play, had +been run over by a cab somewhere in Lambeth; he was thought to be +dying; and Nancy had come begging and praying me with tears to go with +her to see him."</p> + +<p>"And you went, I suppose, Leah. Go on."</p> + +<p>"You know her dreadful life, Mr. Charles, its sorrows and its misery; +how could I find it in my heart to deny her? When Watts came back from +Mr. Lake's, I had my bonnet and shawl on. 'What, going out?' said he,<span class="pagenum">[226]</span> +in surprise, and rather crossly—for I had promised him a game at +cribbage. 'Well,' I answered, 'I've just remembered that I have to +fetch those curtains home to-night that went to be dyed; and I must +hasten or the shop may be shut up. I've put your supper ready in case +they keep me waiting, but I dare say I shall not be long.'"</p> + +<p>To attempt to hurry Leah through her stories when once she had entered +upon them, was simply waste of words; so I listened with all the +patience I had at command.</p> + +<p>"The boy had been carried into a house down Lambeth way, and the +doctor said he must not be moved; but the damage was not as bad, sir, +as was at first thought, and I cheered Nancy up a bit by saying he +would get all right and well. I think he will. Leaving her with the +lad, I was coming back alone, when I missed my way. The streets are +puzzling just there, and I am not familiar with them. I thought I'd +ask at a book-stall, and went towards it. A<span class="pagenum">[227]</span> sailor was standing +outside, fingering the books and talking to somebody inside that I +couldn't see. Mr. Charles, I had got within a yard of him, when I saw +who it was—and the fright turned me sick and faint."</p> + +<p>"You mean the sailor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, the sailor. It was Captain Heriot, disguised. Oh, sir, what +is to be done? The boy that I have often nursed upon my knee—what +will become of him if he should be recognised?"</p> + +<p>The very thought almost turned me sick and faint also, as Leah +expressed it. How could Tom be so foolhardy? An escaped convict, +openly walking about the streets of London!</p> + +<p>"Did he see you, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I stole away quickly; and the next turning brought me into +the right road again."</p> + +<p>"How did he look?"</p> + +<p>"I saw no change in him, sir. He wore a round glazed hat, and rough +blue clothes, with a large sailor collar, open at the throat.<span class="pagenum">[228]</span> His +face was not hidden at all. It used to be clean-shaved, you know, +except the whiskers; but now the whiskers are gone, and he wears a +beard. That's all the difference I could see in him."</p> + +<p>Could this possibly be Tom? I scarcely thought so; scarcely thought +that even he would be as reckless of consequences.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Charles, do you suppose I could be mistaken in him?" cried +Leah, in answer to my doubt. "Indeed, sir, it was Captain Heriot. He +and the man inside—the master of the shop, I suppose—seemed talking +as if they knew one another, so Mr. Tom may have been there before. +Perhaps he is hiding in the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"Hiding!" I repeated, in pain.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir——"</p> + +<p>"Leah! have you gone up to bed?"</p> + +<p>The words came floating up the staircase in Watts's deep voice. Leah +hurried to the door.</p> + +<p>"I came up to bring the master's candle," she called out, as she went +down. "If you<span class="pagenum">[229]</span> hadn't gone to sleep, you might have heard him ring for +it."</p> + +<p>All night I lay awake, tormented on the score of Tom Heriot. Now +looking at the worst side of things, now trying to see them at their +best, the hours dragged along, one after the other, until daybreak. In +spite of Leah's statement and her own certainty in the matter, my mind +refused to believe that the sailor she had seen could be Tom. Tom was +inconceivably daring; but not daring enough for this. He would have +put on a more complete disguise. At least, I thought so.</p> + +<p>But if indeed it was Tom—why, then there was no hope. He would +inevitably be recaptured. And this meant I knew not what of heavier +punishment for himself; and for the rest of us further exposure, +reflected disgrace, and mental pain.</p> + +<p>Resolving to go myself at night and reconnoitre, I turned to my day's +work. In the course of the morning a somewhat curious thing happened. +The old saying<span class="pagenum">[230]</span> says that "In looking for one thing you find another," +and it was exemplified in the present instance. I was searching Mr. +Brightman's small desk for a paper that I thought might be there, and, +as I suppose, accidentally touched a spring, for the lower part of the +desk suddenly loosened, and I found it had a false bottom to it. +Lifting the upper portion, I found several small deeds of importance, +letters and other papers; and lying on the top of all was a small +packet, inscribed "Lady Clavering," in Mr. Brightman's writing.</p> + +<p>No doubt the letters she was uneasy about, and which I had hitherto +failed to find. But now, what was I to do? Give them back to her? +Well, no, I thought not. At any rate, not until I had glanced over +them. Their being in this secret division proved the importance +attaching to them.</p> + +<p>Untying the narrow pink ribbon that held them together, there fell out +a note of Sir Ralph Clavering's, addressed to Mr. Brightman.<span class="pagenum">[231]</span> It was +dated just before his death, and ran as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I send you the letters I told you I had discovered. Read them, +and keep them safely. Should trouble arise with her after my +death, confront her with them. Use your own discretion about +showing them or not to my nephew Edmund. But should she +acquiesce in the just will I have made, and when all things are +settled on a sure foundation, then destroy the letters, unseen +by any eye save your own; I do not wish to expose her +needlessly.—R. C."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Lady Clavering had not acquiesced in the will, and she was still going +on with her threatened and most foolish action. I examined the +letters. Some were written <i>to</i> her; not by her husband, though; some +were written <i>by</i> her: and, take them for all in all, they were about +as damaging a series as any it was ever my fate to see.</p> + +<p>"The senseless things these women are!"<span class="pagenum">[232]</span> thought I. "How on earth came +she to preserve such letters as these?"</p> + +<p>I sent a messenger for Sir Edmund Clavering. Mr. Brightman was to use +his own discretion: I hardly thought any was left to me. It was more +Sir Edmund's place to see them than mine. He came at once.</p> + +<p>"By George!" he exclaimed, when he had read two or three of them, his +handsome face flushing, his brow knit in condemnation. "What a +despicable woman! We have the cause in our own hands now."</p> + +<p>"Yes; she cannot attempt to carry it further."</p> + +<p>We consulted a little as to the best means of making the truth known +to Lady Clavering—an unthankful office that would fall to me—and Sir +Edmund rose to leave.</p> + +<p>"Keep the letters safely," he said; almost in the very words Sir Ralph +had written. "Do not bring them within a mile of her hands: copies, if +she pleases, as many as she likes. And when things are upon a<span class="pagenum">[233]</span> safe +footing, as my uncle says, and there's no longer anything to fear from +her, then they can be destroyed."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Of course, Sir Edmund," I continued, in some hesitation, "she +must be spared to the world. This discovery must be held sacred +between us——"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that as a caution?" he interrupted in surprise. "Why, +Strange, what do you take me for?"</p> + +<p>He clasped my hand with a half-laugh, and went out. Yes, Lady +Clavering had contrived to damage herself, but it would never +transpire to her friends or her enemies.</p> + +<p>Leah had noticed the name of the street containing the book-stall, and +when night came I put on a discarded old great-coat and slouching hat, +and set out for it. It was soon found: a narrow, well-frequented +street, leading out of the main thoroughfare, full of poor shops, +patronized by still poorer customers.</p> + +<p>The book-stall was on the right, about half-way down the street. +Numbers of old<span class="pagenum">[234]</span> books lay upon a board outside, lighted by a flaring, +smoking tin lamp. Inside the shop they seemed chiefly to deal in +tobacco and snuff. Every now and then the master of the shop—whose +name, according to the announcement above the shop, must be Caleb +Lee—came to the door to look about him, or to answer the questions of +some outside customer touching the books. But as yet I saw no sign of +Tom Heriot.</p> + +<p>Opposite the shop, on the other side the way, was a dark entry; into +that entry I ensconced myself to watch.</p> + +<p>Tired of this at last, I marched to the end of the street, crossed +over, strolled back on the other side the way, and halted at the +book-stall. There I began to turn the books about: anything to while +away the time.</p> + +<p>"Looking for any book in particular, sir?"</p> + +<p>I turned sharply at the question, which came from the man Lee. The +voice sounded familiar to my ear. Where had I heard it?</p><p><span class="pagenum">[235]</span></p> + +<p>"You have not an old copy of the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' I +suppose?"—the work flashing into my mind by chance.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I had one, but it was bought last week. There's 'Fatherless +Fanny,' sir; that's a very nice book; it was thought a deal of some +years ago. And there's the 'Water Witch,' by Cooper. That's good, +too."</p> + +<p>I remembered the voice now. It was that of Leah's mysterious visitor +of the night before, who had been curiously inquisitive about me. +Recognition came upon me with a shock, and opened up a new fear.</p> + +<p>Taking the "Water Witch"—for which I paid fourpence—I walked on +again. Could it be possible that <i>Tom Heriot</i> was passing himself off +for me? Why, this would be the veriest folly of all. But no; that was +altogether impossible.</p> + +<p>Anxious and uneasy, I turned about again and again. The matter ought +to be set at rest, yet I knew not how to do it.</p> + +<p>I entered the shop, which contained two<span class="pagenum">[236]</span> small counters: the one +covered with papers, the other with smoking gear. Lee stood behind the +former, serving a customer, who was inquiring for last week's number +of the <i>Fireside Friend</i>. Behind the other counter sat a young girl, +pretty and modest. I turned to her.</p> + +<p>"Will you give me a packet of bird's-eye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," she answered in pleasant tones; and, opening a drawer, +handed me the tobacco, ready wrapped up. It would do for Watts. +Bird's-eye, I knew, was his favourite mixture.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," she said, returning me the change out of a florin. +"Anything else, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; a box of wax matches."</p> + +<p>But the matches were not to be found, and the girl appealed to her +father.</p> + +<p>"Wax matches," returned the man from across the shop. "Why, they are +on the shelf behind you, Betsy."</p> + +<p>The matches were found, the girl took<span class="pagenum">[237]</span> the money for them, and thanked +me again. All very properly and modestly. The girl was evidently as +modest and well-behaved as a girl could be.</p> + +<p>So that was Betsy! But who was it that was courting her in my name? +One of my office clerks—or Captain Thomas Heriot?</p> + +<p>Captain Thomas Heriot did not make his appearance, and I began to hope +that Leah had been mistaken. It grew late. I was heartily tired, and +turned to make my way home.</p> + +<p>Why I should have looked round I cannot tell, but I did look round +just as I reached the end of the street. Looming slowly up in the +distance was a sailor, with a sailor's swaying walk, and he turned +into the shop.</p> + +<p>I turned back also, all my pulses quickened. I did not follow him in, +for we might have betrayed ourselves. I stood outside, occupied with +the old books again, and pulled the collar of my coat well up, and my +hat well down. Not here must there be any mutual recognition.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[238]</span></p> + +<p>How long did he mean to stay there? For ever? He and Lee seemed to be +at the back of the shop, talking together. I could not hear the voices +sufficiently to judge whether one of them was that of Tom Heriot.</p> + +<p>He was coming now! Out he came, puffing at a fresh-lighted pipe, his +glazed hat at the back of his head, his face lifted to the world.</p> + +<p>"Tell you we shall, master. Fine to-morrow? not a bit of it. Rain as +sure as a gun. This dampness in the air is a safe sign on't. Let a +sailor alone for knowing the weather."</p> + +<p>"At sea, maybe," retorted Caleb Lee. "But I never yet knew a sailor +who wasn't wrong about the weather on shore. Good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Good-night to you, master," responded the sailor.</p> + +<p>He lounged slowly away. It was not Tom Heriot. About his build and his +fair complexion, but shorter than Tom. A real,<span class="pagenum">[239]</span> genuine Jack-tar, +this, unmistakably. Was he the man Leah had seen? This one wore no +beard, but bushy, drooping whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Looking for another book, sir?"</p> + +<p>In momentary confusion, I caught up the book nearest to hand. It +proved to be "Fatherless Fanny," and I said I'd take it. While +searching for the money, I remarked that the sailor, just gone away, +had said we should have rain to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that he is obliged to be right, though he was so positive +over it," returned the man. "I hate a rainy day: spoils our custom. +Thankye, sir. Sixpence this time. That's right."</p> + +<p>"Do many sailors frequent this neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"Not many; we've a sprinkling of 'em sometimes. They come over here +from the Kent Road way."</p> + +<p>Well, and what else could I ask? Nothing. And just then a voice came +from the shop.</p> + +<p>"Father," called out Miss Betsy, "is it not time to shut up?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[240]</span></p> + +<p>"What do you ask? Getting a little deaf, sir, in my old age. Coming, +Betsy."</p> + +<p>He turned into the shop, and I walked away for the night: hoping, ah! +how earnestly, that Leah had been mistaken.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>"Mr. Strange, my lord."</p> + +<p>It was the following evening. Restlessly anxious about Tom Heriot, I +betook myself to Gloucester Place as soon as dinner was over, to ask +Major Carlen whether he had learnt anything further. The disreputable +old man was in some way intimate with one or two members of the +Government. To my surprise, Sanders, Lord Level's servant, opened the +door to me, and showed me to the dining-room. Lord Level sat there +alone over his after-dinner claret.</p> + +<p>"You look as if you hardly believed your eyes, Charles," he laughed as +he shook hands. "Sit down. Glasses, Sanders."</p> + +<p>"And surprised I may well look to see you here, when I thought you +were in Paris," was my answer.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[241]</span></p> + +<p>"We came over to-day; got here an hour ago. Blanche was very ill in +crossing and has gone to bed."</p> + +<p>"Where is Major Carlen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is off to Jersey to see his sister, Mrs. Guy. At least, that +is what he said; but he is not famous for veracity, you know, and it +is just as likely that he may be catching the mail train at London +Bridge <i>en route</i> for Homburg, as the Southampton train from Waterloo. +Had you been half an hour earlier, you might have had the pleasure of +assisting at his departure. I have taken this house for a month, and +paid him in advance," added Lord Level, as much as to say that the +Major was not altogether out of funds.</p> + +<p>A short silence ensued. The thoughts of both of us were no doubt busy. +Level, his head bent, was slowly turning his wine-glass round by its +stem.</p> + +<p>"Charles," he suddenly said, in a half-whisper, "what of Tom Heriot?"</p> + +<p>I hardly knew how to take the question.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[242]</span></p> + +<p>"I know nothing more of him," was my answer.</p> + +<p>"Is he in London, think you? Have you heard news of him, in any way?"</p> + +<p>Now I could not say that I had heard news: for Leah's information was +not news, if (as I hoped) she was mistaken. And I judged it better not +to speak of it to Lord Level until the question was set at rest. Why +torment him needlessly?</p> + +<p>"I wrote you word what Major Carlen said: that Tom was one of those +who escaped. The ship was wrecked upon an uninhabited island, believed +to be that of Tristan d'Acunha. After a few days some of the convicts +contrived to steal a boat and make good their escape. Of course they +were in hope of being picked up by some homeward-bound ship, and may +already have reached England."</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Lord Level, after a pause: "that island lies, no +doubt, in the track of ships bound to the colonies, but not in the +track of those homeward-bound.<span class="pagenum">[243]</span> So the probability is, that if the +convicts were sighted and picked up, they would be carried further +from England, not brought back to it."</p> + +<p>I confess that this view had not occurred to me; in fact, I knew very +little about navigation, or the courses taken by ships. It served to +strengthen my impression that Leah had been in error.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"Sure of what?" returned Lord Level.</p> + +<p>"That the island would be out of the track of homeward-bound vessels."</p> + +<p>"Quite sure. Homeward-bound vessels come round Cape Horn. Those bound +for the colonies go by way of the Cape of Good Hope."</p> + +<p>"My visit here to-night was to ask Major Carlen whether he had heard +any further particulars."</p> + +<p>"I think he heard a few more to-day," said Lord Level. "The +<i>Vengeance</i> was wrecked, it seems, on this island. It is often sighted +by ships going to the colonies, and<span class="pagenum">[244]</span> the captain was in hope that his +signals from the island would be seen, and some ship would bear down +to them. In vain. After the convicts—five of them, I believe—had +made their escape, he determined to send off the long-boat, in charge +of the chief officer, to the nearest Australian coast, for assistance. +On the 10th of December the boat set sail, and on Christmas Day was +picked up by the <i>Vernon</i>, which reached Melbourne the last day of the +year."</p> + +<p>"But how do you know all these details?" I interrupted in surprise.</p> + +<p>"They have been furnished to the Government, and Carlen was informed +of them this morning," replied Lord Level. "On the following day, the +1st of January, the ship <i>Lightning</i> sailed from Melbourne for +England; she was furnished with a full account of the wreck of the +<i>Vengeance</i> and what succeeded to it. The <i>Lightning</i> made a good +passage home, and on her arrival laid her reports before the +Government. That's how it is."</p> + +<p>"And what of the escaped convicts?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p> + +<p>"Nothing is known of them. The probability is that they were picked up +by an outward-bound ship and landed in one of the colonies. If not, +they must have perished at sea."</p> + +<p>"And if they were so picked up and landed, I suppose they would have +reached England by this time?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly—seeing that the <i>Lightning</i> has arrived. And the convicts +had some days' start of the long-boat. I hope Tom Heriot will not make +his way here!" fervently spoke Lord Level. "The consequences would +three-parts kill my wife. No chance of keeping it from her in such a +hullabaloo as would attend his recapture."</p> + +<p>"I cannot think how you have managed to keep it from her as it is."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have been watchful and cautious—and we have not mixed much +with the gossiping English. What! are you going, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have an engagement," I answered, as we both rose. "Good-night. +Give my<span class="pagenum">[246]</span> love to Blanche. Tell her that Charley will see her to-morrow +if he can squeeze out a minute's leisure for it."</p> + +<p>Taking up the old coat I had left in the passage, I went out with it +on my arm, hailed a cab that was crossing Portman Square and was +driven to Lambeth. There I recommenced my watch upon the book-stall +and the street containing it, not, however, disclosing myself to Lee +that night. But nothing was to be seen of Tom Heriot.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i019.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[247]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i020a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p class="h3">MRS. BRIGHTMAN.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-s-quote.jpg" width="90" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">S</span>UR</b> this coms hoppin youle excuse blundurs bein no skollerd sur +missis is worse and if youle com ive got som things to tell you I +darnt keep um any longer your unbil servint emma hatch but doant say +to peri as i sent."</p> + +<p>This remarkable missive was delivered to me by the late afternoon +post. The schoolmaster must have been abroad when Hatch received her +education.</p> + +<p>I had intended to spend the evening with Blanche. It was the day +subsequent to her arrival from France with Lord Level,<span class="pagenum">[248]</span> and I had not +yet seen her. But this appeared to be something like an imperative +summons, and I resolved to attend to it.</p> + +<p>"The more haste, the less speed." The proverb exemplifies itself very +frequently in real life. Ordering my dinner to be served half an hour +earlier than usual, I had no sooner eaten it than a gentleman called +and detained me. It was close upon eight o'clock when I reached +Clapham.</p> + +<p>Perry, the butler, received me as usual. "Oh, sir, such a house of +sickness as it is!" he exclaimed, leading the way to the drawing-room. +"My mistress is in bed with brain-fever. They were afraid of it +yesterday, but it has quite shown itself to-day. And Miss Annabel is +still at Hastings. I say she ought to be sent for; Hatch says not, and +tells me to mind my own business: but——"</p> + +<p>Hatch herself interrupted the sentence. She came into the room and +ordered Perry out of it. The servants, even Perry, had grown into the +habit of obeying her. Closing<span class="pagenum">[249]</span> the door, she advanced to me as I stood +warming my hands at the fire, for it was a sharp night.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strange, sir," she began in a low tone, "did you get that epistle +from me?"</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"You've not been down here much lately, sir. Last night I thought you +might come, the night afore I thought it. The last time you did come +you never stepped inside the door."</p> + +<p>"Where is the use of coming, Hatch, when I am always told that Mrs. +Brightman cannot see me—and that Miss Annabel remains at Hastings?"</p> + +<p>"And a good thing that she do remain there," returned Hatch. "Perry, +the gaby, says, 'Send for Miss Annabel: why don't you write for Miss +Annabel?' But that his brains is no bigger than one o' them +she-gooses' on Newland Common, he'd have found out why afore now. +Sir," continued Hatch, changing her tone, "I want to know what I be to +do. I'm not a person of<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> edication or book-learning, but my wits is +alive, and they serves me instead. For this two or three days past, +sir, I've been thinking that I ought to tell out to somebody +responsible what it is that's the matter with my missis, and I know of +nobody nearer the family than you, sir. There's her brother, in +course, at the Hall, Captain Chantrey, but my missis has held herself +aloof from him and Lady Grace, and I know she'd be in a fine way if I +spoke to him. Three or four days ago I said to myself, 'The first time +I see Mr. Strange, I'll tell him the truth.' Last night she was worse +than she has been at all, quite raving. I got frightened, which is a +complaint I'm not given to, and resolved not to let another day pass, +and then, whether she lived or died, the responsibility would not lie +upon my back."</p> + +<p>Straightening myself, I stood gazing at Hatch. She had spoken rapidly. +If I had caught all the words, I did not catch their meaning.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" I said mechanically.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[251]</span></p> + +<p>"And so, with morning light, sir, I wrote you that epistle."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; never mind all that. What about Mrs. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>Hatch dropped her voice to a lower and more mysterious whisper. "Sir, +my missis gives way, she do."</p> + +<p>"Gives way," I repeated, gazing at Hatch, and still unable to see any +meaning in the words. "What do you say she does?"</p> + +<p>Hatch took a step forward, which brought her on the hearthrug, close +to me. "Yes, sir; missis gives way."</p> + +<p>"Gives way to what?" I reiterated. "To her superstitious fancies?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, to stimilinks."</p> + +<p>"To——" The meaning, in spite of Hatch's obscure English, dawned upon +me now. A cold shiver ran through me. Annabel's mother! and honoured +Henry Brightman's wife!</p> + +<p>"She takes stimulants!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; stimilinks," proceeded Hatch. "A'most any sort that comes +anigh her.<span class="pagenum">[252]</span> She likes wine and brandy best; but failing them, she'll +drink others."</p> + +<p>Question upon question rose to my mind. Had it been known to Mr. +Brightman? Had it been a prolonged habit? Was it deeply indulged in? +But Annabel was her child, and my lips refused to utter them.</p> + +<p>"It has been the very plague of my life and my master's to keep it +private these many months past," continued Hatch. "'Hatch does this in +the house, and Hatch does the other,' the servants cry. Yes; but my +master knew why I set up my authority; and missis knew it too. It was +to screen her."</p> + +<p>"How could she have fallen into the habit?"</p> + +<p>"It has grown upon her by degrees, sir. A little at first, and a +little, and then a little more. As long as master was here, she was +kept tolerably in check, but since his death there has been nobody to +restrain her, except me. Whole days she has been in her room, shutting +out Miss Annabel,<span class="pagenum">[253]</span> under the excuse of headaches or lowness, drinking +all the time; and me there to keep the door. I'm sure the black +stories I have gone and invented, to pacify Miss Annabel and put her +off the right scent, would drive a parson to his prayers."</p> + +<p>"Then Miss Annabel does not know it?"</p> + +<p>"She do now," returned Hatch. "The first night there was that +disturbance in the house about missis seeing the ghost, her room was +thrown open in the fright, and all the house got in. I turned the +servants out: I dared not turn out Miss Annabel, and she couldn't fail +to see that her mother was the worse for drink. So then I told her +some, and Mr. Close told her more next morning."</p> + +<p>Annabel's strange grief, so mysterious to me, was accounted for now. +Hatch continued:</p> + +<p>"You see now, sir, why Miss Annabel has been kept so much at Hastings. +Master would never have her at home for long together, afeared her +mother might betray<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> herself. He wanted to keep the child in ignorance +of it, as long as it was possible. Miss Brightman knew it. She found +it out the last time she was visiting here; and she begged my missis +on her bended knees to be true to herself and leave it off. Missis +promised—and such a bout of crying they two had together afore Miss +Lucy went away! For a time she did get better; but it all came back +again. And then came master's death—and the shock and grief of that +has made her give way more than she ever did. And there it is, sir. +The secret's got too weighty for me; I couldn't keep it to myself any +longer."</p> + +<p>"Perry says Mrs. Brightman is now lying ill with brain-fever."</p> + +<p>"We call it brain-fever to the servants, me and Mr. Close; it's near +enough for them," was Hatch's cool reply. "The curious thing is that +Perry don't seem to suspect; he sees more of his missis than the rest +do, and many a time must have noticed her shaking. Last night her fit +of shaking<span class="pagenum">[255]</span> was dreadful—and her fever too, for the matter of that. +She is as close as she well can be upon that disorder that comes of +drink. If it goes on to a climax, nothing can save the disgrace from +coming out downstairs."</p> + +<p>Nothing could or would save it, in my opinion, downstairs or up, +indoors or out. What a calamity!</p> + +<p>"But she is a trifle better to-night," continued Hatch. "The medicines +have taken effect at last, and put her into a deep sleep, or else I +couldn't be talking here."</p> + +<p>"Did you invent the episode of Mr. Brightman's ghost, Hatch, by way of +accounting for Mrs. Brightman's state to the servants?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> invent it!" returned Hatch. "I didn't invent it. My missis did +see it. Not, I take it, that there was any ghost to see, in one sense; +but when these poor creatures is in the shakes, they fancy they see +all kinds of things—monkeys and demons, and such-like. I can't +believe it was master.<span class="pagenum">[256]</span> I don't see why he should come back, being a +good man; and good men that die in peace be pretty sure to rest in +their graves. Still, I'd not be too sure. It may be that he comes +back, as my missis fancies, to silently reproach her. It's odd that +she always sees him in the same place, and in his shroud. Several +times she has seen him now, and her description of how he looks never +varies. Nothing will ever persuade her, sick or well, that it is +fancy."</p> + +<p>"You have seen him also, I hear?"</p> + +<p>"Not I," said Hatch. "I have upheld what my missis says. For which was +best, Mr. Strange, sir—to let the servants think she is shaking and +raving from fear of a ghost, or to let 'em get to suspect her the +worse for drink?"</p> + +<p>Hatch's policy had no doubt been wise in this. I told her so.</p> + +<p>"I have seen the shakes before to-day; was used to 'em when a child, +as may be said," resumed Hatch. "I had a step-uncle, sir, mother's +half-brother, who lived<span class="pagenum">[257]</span> next door to us; he was give to drink, and he +had 'em now and then. Beer were his chief weakness; wine is missis's. +If that step-uncle of mine had been put to stand head downwards in a +beer barrel, Mr. Charles, he'd not have thought he had enough. He'd be +always seeing things, he would; blue and red and green imps that +crawled up his bed-posts, and horrid little black devils. He used to +start out of doors and run away for fear of 'em. Once he ran out stark +naked, all but his shoes; he tore past the cottages all down the +village, and flung himself into the pond opposite the stocks. All the +women watching him from their doors and windows followed after him. +The men thought it were at least a mad dog broke loose, seeing the +women in pursuit like that; whereas it were nothing but my step-uncle +in one of his bouts—stripped. Mrs. Brightman would never do such a +thing as that, being a lady; but they be all pretty much alike for +sense when the fit is on 'em."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[258]</span></p> + +<p>"And Mr. Brightman knew of this, you say? Knew that she was given +to—to like stimulants?"</p> + +<p>"He couldn't be off knowing of it, sir, habiting, as he did, the same +rooms: and it has just bittered his life out. She has never had a +downright bad attack, like this one, therefore we could hide it from +the servants and from Miss Annabel, but it couldn't be hided from him. +He first spoke to me about it six or seven months ago, when he was +having an iron bedstead put up in the little room close to hers; until +then he had made believe to me not to see it. Sometimes I know he +talked to her, all lovingly and persuasively, and I would see her with +red eyes afterwards. I once heard her say, 'I will try, Henry; indeed +I will;' and I do believe she did. But she got worse, and then master +spoke to Mr. Close."</p> + +<p>"Has it been long growing upon her?" I asked, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Sir," returned Hatch, looking at me with her powerful eyes, "it has +been growing<span class="pagenum">[259]</span> for years and years. I think it came on, first, from +idleness——"</p> + +<p>"From idleness!"</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say, sir. She married master for a home, as it were, +and she didn't care for him. She cared for somebody else—but things +wouldn't work convenient, and they had to part. Miss Emma Chantrey was +high-born and beautiful, but she had no money, and the gentleman had +no money either, so it would not do. It was all over and done with +long before she knew Mr. Brightman. Well, sir, she married and come +home here. But she never liked the place; commercial, she said, these +neighbourhoods was, round London, and the people were beneath her. So +she wouldn't visit, and she wouldn't sew nor read; she'd just sit all +day long with her hands afore her, a-doing of nothing. I saw that as +soon as I took service here. 'Wait,' said I to myself, 'till the baby +comes.' Well, it came, sweet little Miss Annabel, but it didn't make a +pin's difference: missis got a maid for it,<span class="pagenum">[260]</span> and then a governess, and +turned her over to them. No more babies followed; pity but what a +score of 'em had; they might have roused her from her apathy."</p> + +<p>"But surely she did not give way, as you call it, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, not then. She was just ate up with weariness; she found no +pleasure in life, and she did no work in it; when morning broke she'd +wish the day was over; and when night came she'd wish it was morning; +and so the years went by. Then she got to say—it come on quite +imperceptible—'Hatch, get me a glass of wine; I'm so low and +exhausted.' And I used to get her one, thinking nothing. She took it +then, just because she wanted something to rouse her, and didn't know +what. That was the beginning of it, Mr. Charles."</p> + +<p>"A very unfortunate beginning."</p> + +<p>"But," continued Hatch, "after a while, she got to like the wine, and +in course o' time she couldn't do without it; a glass now and a glass +then between her meals,<span class="pagenum">[261]</span> besides what she took with them, and it was a +great deal; pretty nigh a bottle a-day I fancy, altogether. Master +couldn't make out how it was his wine went, and he spoke sharp to +Perry; and when missis found that, she took to have some in on her own +account, unbeknowing to him. Then it grew to brandy. Upon the +slightest excuse, just a stitch in her side, or her finger aching, she +would say, 'Hatch, I must have half a glass of hot brandy-and-water.' +Folks don't stop at the first liquor, sir, when it gets to that pitch; +my step-uncle would have swallowed vitriol sooner than have kept to +beer."</p> + +<p>"Hatch, this is a painful tale."</p> + +<p>"And I've not finished of it," was Hatch's response. "Missis had an +illness a year or eighteen months back; I dare say you remember it, +sir. Weak enough she was when she began to get about; some people +thought she wouldn't live. 'She must take stimilinks to strengthen +her,' says Close. 'She don't want stimilinks,' says I; 'she'll get +better without 'em;' for she was a taking<span class="pagenum">[262]</span> of 'em then in secret, +though he didn't know it. 'Mrs. Brightman must take stimilinks,' says +he to master. 'Whatever you thinks necessary,' returns master—though +if he hadn't begun to suspect then, it's odd to me. And my missis was +not backward to take Close's stimilinks, and she took her own as well; +and that I look upon as the true foundation of it all; it might never +have grown into a habit but for that; and since then matters have been +going from bad to worse. It's a dangerous plan for doctors to order +stimilinks to weak people," added Hatch reflectively; "evil comes of +it sometimes."</p> + +<p>I had heard that opinion before; more than once. I had heard Mr. +Brightman express it to a client, who was recovering from an illness. +Was he thinking of his wife?</p> + +<p>"And for the last six months or so my missis has been getting almost +beyond control," resumed Hatch; "one could hardly keep her within +bounds. Me and master tried everything. We got Miss Annabel<span class="pagenum">[263]</span> out of +the way, not letting her come home but for two or three days at a +time, and them days—my patience! if I hadn't to watch missis like a +cat! She didn't wish to exceed in the daytime when Miss Annabel was +here, though she would at night; but you know, sir, these poor +creatures can't keep their resolves; and if she once got a glass +early, then all her prudence went to the winds. I did my best; master +did his best; and she'd listen, and be reasonable, and say she'd touch +nothing. But upon the least temptation she'd give way. My belief is, +she couldn't help it; when it comes to this stage it's just a disease. +A disease, Mr. Charles, like the measles or the yellow jaundice, and +they can't put it from 'em if they would."</p> + +<p>True.</p> + +<p>"On the Thursday night, it was the Thursday before the master died, +there was a quarrel," Hatch went on. "Mrs. Brightman was not fit to +appear at the dinner-table, and her dinner was sent up to her<span class="pagenum">[264]</span> room, +and master came upstairs afterwards, and they had words. Master said +he should send Miss Annabel to Hastings in the morning and keep her +there, for it would be impossible to hide matters from her longer if +she stayed at home. Mrs. Brightman, who was not very bad, resented +that, and called him harsh names: generally speaking, she was as +humble as could be, knowing herself in the wrong and feeling ashamed +of it. They parted in anger. Master was as good as his word; he sent +Miss Annabel with Sarah down to Hastings on the Friday morning to Miss +Brightman. In the evening, when he came home to dinner, missis was +again the worse for drink. But on the Saturday morning she was up +betimes, afore the household even, and had ordered the carriage, and +went whirling off with me to the station to take the first train for +Hastings. 'I shall return on Monday and bring back Annabel,' she said +to master, when she was stepping into the carriage at the door, and he +ran out to ask where she<span class="pagenum">[265]</span> was going, for he had not seen nor heard +nothing about it. 'Very well,' said he in a whisper; 'only come back +as you ought to come.' Mr. Charles, I think those were the only words +that passed between them after the quarrel."</p> + +<p>"You mean the quarrel on the Thursday night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; there was no other quarrel. We went to the Queen's Hotel. +And on the Sunday, if you remember, you came down to tell us of the +master's sudden death. Mrs. Brightman was ill that morning, really +ill, I mean, with one of her dreadful headaches—which she did have at +times, and when she didn't they was uncommon convenient things for me +to fall back upon if I needed an excuse for her. She had meant to go +to church, but was not able. She had had too much on the Saturday +night, though she was always more prudent out than at home, and was +worried in mind besides. But, to be sure, how she did take on about +master's death when alone with me. They<span class="pagenum">[266]</span> had parted bad friends: +leastways had not made it up after the quarrel; she knew how +aggravating she had been to him in it, and a notion got hold of her +that he might have poisoned himself. When she learnt the rights of it, +that he had died peaceful and natural, she didn't get much happier. +She was perpetually saying to me, as the days went on, that her +conduct had made him miserable. She drank then to drown care; she +fancied she saw all sorts of things, and when it came to master's +ghost——"</p> + +<p>"She could not have been sober when she fancied that."</p> + +<p>"Nor was she," returned Hatch. "Half-and-half like; had enough to +betray herself to Miss Annabel. 'Now don't you go and contradict about +the ghost,' I says to her, poor child; 'better let the kitchen think +it's a ghost than brandy-and-water.' Frightful vexed and ashamed +missis was, when she grew sober, to find that Miss Annabel knew the +truth. She told her she must go to her aunt at Hastings for a time: +Mr. Close, he<span class="pagenum">[267]</span> said the same. Miss Annabel would not go; she said it +was not right that she should leave her mother, and there was a scene; +miss sobbing and crying, mistress angry and commanding; but it ended +in her going. 'I don't want no spies upon me,' says missis to me, 'and +she shall stop at Hastings for good.' Since then she has been giving +way unbearable, and the end of it is, she has got the shakes."</p> + +<p>What a life! What a life it had been for Mr. Brightman! Lennard had +thought of late that he appeared as a man who bore about him some +hidden grief! Once, when he had seemed low-spirited, I asked whether +anything was amiss. "We all have our trials, Charles; some more, some +less," was the answer, in tones that rather shut me up.</p> + +<p>Hatch would fain have talked until now: if wine was her mistress's +weakness, talking was hers; but she was interrupted by the arrival of +Mr. Close, and had to attend him upstairs. On his return he came into +the drawing-room.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[268]</span></p> + +<p>"This is a disagreeable business, Mr. Strange. Hatch tells me she has +informed you of the true nature of the case."</p> + +<p>A disagreeable business! The light words, the matter-of-fact tone +seemed as a mockery. The business nearly overwhelmed <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p>"When you met me the other night, at the gate, and spoke of Mrs. +Brightman's illness, I was uncertain how to answer you," continued Mr. +Close. "I thought it probable you might be behind the curtain, +connected as you are with the family, but I was not sure."</p> + +<p>"I never had the faintest suspicion of such a thing, until Hatch's +communication to me to-night. She says her young mistress, even, did +not know of it."</p> + +<p>"No; they have contrived to keep it from Annabel."</p> + +<p>"Will Mrs. Brightman recover?"</p> + +<p>"From this illness? oh dear yes! She is already in a fair way for it, +having dropped into the needed sleep; which is all we want. If you +mean will she recover from the habit<span class="pagenum">[269]</span>—why, I cannot answer you. It +has obtained a safe hold upon her."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"What can be done?" returned the surgeon. "Mrs. Brightman is her own +mistress, subject to no control, and has a good income at command. She +may go on drinking to the end."</p> + +<p>Go on drinking to the end! What a fearful thought! what a fearful +life! Could <i>nothing</i> be done to prevent it; to recall her to herself; +to her responsibility for this world and the next?</p> + +<p>"I have seen much of these cases," continued Mr. Close; "few medical +men more. Before I came into this practice I was assistant-surgeon to +one of the debtors' prisons up in town: no school equal to that in all +Europe for initiating a man into the mysteries of the disorder."</p> + +<p>"Ay, so I believe. But can Mrs. Brightman's case be like those cases?"</p> + +<p>"Why should it differ from them? The same habits have induced it. Of +course, she<span class="pagenum">[270]</span> is not yet as bad as some of them are, but unless she +pulls up she will become so. Her great chance, her one chance, I may +say, would be to place herself under some proper control. But this +would require firm resolution and self-denial. To begin with, she +would have to leave her home."</p> + +<p>"This cannot be a desirable home for Annabel."</p> + +<p>"No. Were she my child, she should not return to it."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done when she recovers from this attack?"</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>In what way, truly! My brain was at work over the difficulties of the +future. Was Mrs. Brightman to live on in this, her home, amidst her +household of curious servants, amidst the prying neighbours, all of +whom would revel in a tale of scandal?</p> + +<p>"When she is sufficiently well she should have change of air," +proceeded the doctor, "and get her nerves braced up. Otherwise she may +be seeing that ghost for six months<span class="pagenum">[271]</span> to come. A strange fancy that, +for her to take up—and yet, perhaps, not so very strange, taking all +things into consideration. She is full of remorse, thinking she might +have done her duty better by her husband, made him less unhappy, and +all that. Mrs. Brightman is a gentlewoman of proud, elevated +instincts: she would be only too thankful to leave off this +demoralizing habit; in a way, I believe she strives to do it, but it +is stronger than she is."</p> + +<p>"It has become worse, Hatch says, since Mr. Brightman died."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," concluded Mr. Close. "She had taken it to drown care."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i021.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[272]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i022a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">MY LORD AND MY LADY.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-t.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">T</span>HE</b> breakfast-table was laid in Gloucester Place, waiting for Lord and +Lady Level. It was the day following the one recorded in the last +chapter. A clear, bright morning, the sun shining hotly.</p> + +<p>Blanche came in, wearing a dainty white dress. Her face, though thin, +was fair and lovely as ever; her eyes were as blue and brilliant. +Ringing for the coffee to be brought in, she began turning over the +letters on the table: one for herself, which she saw was from Mrs. +Guy; three for her<span class="pagenum">[273]</span> husband. Of these, one bore the Paris postmark.</p> + +<p>"Here is a letter from Paris, Archibald," she said to him as he +entered. "I think from Madame Sauvage; it is like her writing. I hope +it is to say that she has sent off the box."</p> + +<p>"That you may regain possession of your finery," rejoined Lord Level, +with a light, pleasant laugh. "Eh, Blanche?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my new lace mantle is in it. So stupid of Timms to have made +the mistake!"</p> + +<p>"So it was. I dare say the box is on its road by this time."</p> + +<p>Blanche began to pour out the coffee. Lord Level had gone to the +window, and was looking up and down the street. As he took his seat to +begin breakfast, he pushed the letters away idly without opening them, +and remarked upon the fineness of the morning.</p> + +<p>They were fairly good friends, these two; always courteous, save when +Blanche was seized with a fit of jealousy, persuading herself,<span class="pagenum">[274]</span> +rightly or wrongly, that she had cause for it. Then she would be +cross, bitter, snappish. Once in a way Lord Level retorted in kind; +though on the whole he was patient and gentle with her. In the midst +of it all she loved him passionately at heart, and sometimes let him +know it.</p> + +<p>"As it is so fine a day, Archibald, you might take me to Kensington, +to call on Mrs. Page Reid, this afternoon. She sent us her address, +you know."</p> + +<p>"I would rather not, Blanche, unless you particularly wish it. I don't +care to keep up Mrs. Page Reid's acquaintance. She's good for nothing +but to talk scandal."</p> + +<p>"I do not much care for her either," acknowledged Blanche. "We are not +in the least obliged to renew her acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"I will take you somewhere else instead," said he, pleased at her +acquiescence. "We will go out after luncheon and make an afternoon of +it—like Darby and Joan."</p> + +<p>Presently, when breakfast was nearly over, Blanche opened her letter +from Mrs.<span class="pagenum">[275]</span> Guy; reading out scraps of it to her husband. It told of +Major Carlen's arrival—so that he had really gone to Jersey. Then she +took up the <i>Times</i>. An unusual thing for her to do. She did not care +for newspapers, and Lord Level did not have them sent to him when in +Paris: he saw the English journals at the club. No doubt he had his +reasons for so doing.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he was opening his own letters. The one from Paris came +last. Had his wife been looking at him, she might have seen a sudden +change pass over his face as he read it, as though startled by some +doubt or perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Archibald, what can this mean?" exclaimed Blanche in breathless +tones. "Listen: 'The names of the five convicts said to have escaped +from the ship <i>Vengeance</i> after her wreck on the island, supposed to +be that of Tristan d'Acunha, are the following: George Ford, Walter +Green, John Andison, Nathaniel Markham, and Thomas Heriot.' That is +Tom's name."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[276]</span></p> + +<p>Cramming all his letters into his breastpocket with a hurried +movement, Lord Level quietly took the paper from his wife's hands. +This was the very contretemps he had so long striven to guard against.</p> + +<p>"My dear Blanche, do you suppose there is only one Thomas Heriot in +the world?" cried he carelessly. "'Ship <i>Vengeance</i>?' 'Escape of +convicts?' Oh, it is something that has happened over at Botany Bay."</p> + +<p>"Well, the name startled me, at the moment. I'm sure Tom might as well +be a convict as anything else for all the news he sends us of +himself."</p> + +<p>"He was always careless, you know, and detested letter-writing."</p> + +<p>Carrying away the paper, Lord Level left the room and went to the one +behind it, of which he made a sort of study. There he sat down, spread +the letter from Paris before him on the table, and reperused it.</p> + +<p>"Confound the woman!" remarked his lordship. "I shall have to go down +there now!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[277]</span></p> + +<p>Breakfast removed, Blanche began at once to write to Mrs. Guy, whose +letter required an answer. That over, she put on her bonnet to call on +Mrs. Arnold Ravensworth in Langham Place. She had called on the +previous day, but found Mr. and Mrs. Ravensworth out of town: they +were expected home that evening. So now Blanche went again.</p> + +<p>Yes, they had arrived; and had brought with them Blanche's old friend, +Cecilia Ravensworth, from White Littleham Rectory.</p> + +<p>How happy they were together, these two! It seemed an age since they +had parted, and yet it was not in reality so very long ago. Lady Level +remained the best part of the morning, talking of the old days of her +happy, yet uneventful, girlhood.</p> + +<p>Strolling leisurely through Cavendish Square on her way home, Blanche +fell to thinking of the afternoon: speculating where it might be that +her husband meant to take her. Perhaps to Hampton Court: she had<span class="pagenum">[278]</span> +never seen it, and would like to do so: she would ask him to take her +there. Quickening her pace, she soon reached her own door, and saw an +empty cab drawn up before it.</p> + +<p>"Is any visitor here?" she asked of Sanders, when admitted.</p> + +<p>"No, my lady. I have just called the cab for his lordship."</p> + +<p>Lord Level came out of the study at the sound of her voice, and turned +with her into the front room. She thought he looked vexed—hurried.</p> + +<p>"Blanche," he began, "I find I have to run down to Marshdale. But I +shall not be away more than a night if I can help it. I shall be back +to-morrow if possible; if not, you may expect me the next day for +certain."</p> + +<p>"To Marshdale!" she repeated, in surprise and vexation. "Then you will +not be able to take me out this afternoon! I was hoping it might be to +Hampton Court."</p> + +<p>"You shall go to Hampton Court when I return."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[279]</span></p> + +<p>"Take me with you to Marshdale."</p> + +<p>"I cannot," he replied decisively. "I am going down on business."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not tell me of it this morning? Why have proposed to——"</p> + +<p>"I did not know of it then," he interrupted. "How dismayed you look, +Blanche!" he added, half laughing.</p> + +<p>"I shall be very lonely, Archibald—all by myself here!"</p> + +<p>He said no more, but stooped to kiss her, and left the room, looking +at his watch.</p> + +<p>"I did not think it was quite so late!" he exclaimed. Turning sharply, +for he had been about to enter the study, he approached the front +door, hesitated, then turned again, and went into the study.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't stop," he said, coming to a final decision, as he once +more came forth, shut the study door after him, and locked it, but did +not take out the key. "Blanche, don't let anyone come in here; I have +left all my papers at sixes and sevens. If<span class="pagenum">[280]</span> I wait to put them up I +shall not catch Jenning."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to the train now, Archibald?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; I want to see Jenning. I shall come back before going to the +train."</p> + +<p>Getting into the cab, Lord Level was whirled away. Sanders closed the +house-door. And Blanche, ascending the stairs to her chamber, in the +slow manner we are apt to assume after experiencing some unexpected +check, and untying her bonnet as she went up, came upon her maid, +Timms. Timms appeared to be in trouble: her face was gloomy and wet +with tears.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" exclaimed her mistress.</p> + +<p>"My lady, I can't understand it. My belief is she has <i>stole</i> it, and +nothing less. But for that dreadful sea-passage, there and back, I'd +go over myself to-day, if your ladyship would spare me."</p> + +<p>"Now, Timms, what are you talking about?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[281]</span></p> + +<p>"Why, of the box, my lady. I was that vexed at its being left behind +that I scribbled a few lines to Victorine from Dover, telling her to +get Sauvage not to delay in sending it on. And I've got her answer +this morning, denying that any box has been left. Leastways, saying +that she can't see it."</p> + +<p>While Timms was speaking, she had pulled a note out of her pocket, and +offered it to her mistress. It was from their late chambermaid, and +written in curious English for Timms' benefit, who was no French +scholar, and it certainly denied that the box inquired for, or any +other box, had been left behind, so far as she, Victorine, could +ascertain.</p> + +<p>When departing from Paris three days before, Timms, counting over the +luggage with Sanders, discovered at the station that one of the boxes +was missing, left behind in their apartments by her own carelessness. +The train was on the point of starting, and there was no time to +return; but Lord Level despatched a message by a commissionaire<span class="pagenum">[282]</span> to +the concierge, Sauvage, to send it on to London by grande vitesse. The +box contained wearing apparel belonging to Lady Level, and amidst it a +certain dark silk dress which Timms had long coveted. Altogether she +was in a state of melancholy self-reproach and had written to +Victorine from Dover, urging speed. Victorine's answer, delivered this +morning, had completely upset Timms.</p> + +<p>Lady Level laughed gaily. "Cheer up, Timms," she said; "the box is on +its road. His lordship has had a letter from Madame Sauvage this +morning." The concierge himself was no scribe, and his wife always did +the writing for him.</p> + +<p>Timms dashed her tears away. "Oh, my lady, how thankful I am! What +could Victorine mean, I wonder? When was the box sent off? Does your +ladyship know?"</p> + +<p>"No—o. I—don't know what the letter does say," added Lady Level, +calling to mind that she was as yet ignorant of its<span class="pagenum">[283]</span> contents. "I +forgot all about it after Lord Level opened it."</p> + +<p>Timms did not quite comprehend. "But—I beg your pardon, my lady—I +suppose Madame Sauvage does say they have sent it off?"</p> + +<p>"I dare say she does. What else should she write for?"</p> + +<p>The maid's countenance fell considerably.</p> + +<p>"But, my lady," she remonstrated, wise in her superior age and +experience, "if—if your ladyship has not read the letter, it may be +just the opposite. To pretend, like Victorine, that they have not +found the box. Victorine may have spirited it away without their +knowledge. She would uncommonly like to get some of those dresses for +herself."</p> + +<p>This view scarcely appeared feasible to Lady Level. "How silly you +are, Timms!" she cried. "You can only look at the dark side of the +case. As if Lord Level would not have told me had it been <i>that</i> news! +I wonder where he put the letter? I will look for it."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[284]</span></p> + +<p>"If you would be so kind, my lady! so as to set the doubt at rest."</p> + +<p>That she should find the letter on her husband's table, Blanche no +more doubted than that it was written by Madame Sauvage to announce +the despatch of the box. She ran down to the study, unlocked the door, +and entered.</p> + +<p>The table was covered with quite a confused mass of papers, heaped one +upon another. It seemed as though Lord Level must have been looking +for some deed or other. A despatch-box, usually crammed full of +papers, stood on the table, open and empty. At the opposite corner was +his desk; but that was locked.</p> + +<p>For a moment Blanche thought she would abandon her search. The +confusion looked too formidable to be meddled with. Well for her own +peace of mind that she had not done so!</p> + +<p>Bending forward, for papers lay on the carpet as well as the table, +she let her eyes range over the litter, slightly lifting with<span class="pagenum">[285]</span> her +thumb and forefinger a paper here and there, hoping to discern the +required letter. Quite by a stroke of good fortune she came upon it. +Good fortune or ill—which?</p> + +<p>It lay, together with the two letters which had come with it, under an +open parchment, close before Lord Level's chair. One of these letters +was from Mr. Jenning, his confidential solicitor, requesting his +lordship to be with him at twelve o'clock that morning on a special +matter; but that had nothing to do with Blanche, or with us either. +She opened the envelope of the one she wished to see, and took out its +letter.</p> + +<p>But it was not a letter; not, at least, as letters run in general. It +was only a piece of thin paper folded once, which bore a few lines in +a fine, pointed Italian hand, and in faint-coloured ink, somewhat +difficult to decipher.</p> + +<p>Now it must be premised that Lady Level had no more thought of prying +into what concerned her husband, and did not concern herself, than a +child could have had.<span class="pagenum">[286]</span> She would not have been guilty of such a thing +for the world. Any one of those parchments or papers, lying open +before her eyes, she would have deemed it the height of dishonour to +read a word of. This letter from the wife of their late concierge, +containing news of her own lost box, was a different matter.</p> + +<p>But though the address to Lord Level was undoubtedly in the +handwriting of Madame Sauvage, the inside was not. Blanche strained +her eyes over it.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I arrive to-day at Paris, and find you departed for England +with your wife and servants. I come straight on from Pisa, +without halting, to inform you of a discovery we have made; +there was no time to write. As I am so near, it is well to use +the opportunity to pay a short visit to Marshdale to see the +child, and I start this evening for it; you can join me there. +Pardon the trouble I give you.—<span class="smcap">Nina.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>With her face flaming, with trembling<span class="pagenum">[287]</span> hands, and shortened breath, +Lady Level gathered in the words and their meaning. Nina! It was the +Italian girl, the base woman who had troubled before her peace of +mind, and who must have got Madame Sauvage to address the letter. +Evidently she did not mean, the shameless siren, to let Lord Level be +at rest. And—and—and what was the meaning of that allusion about +"the child"?</p> + +<p>Leaving the letter precisely as she had found it, under the sheet of +parchment, Lady Level quitted the room and turned the key in the door +again. Not for very shame, now that this shameful secret had been +revealed to her, would she let her husband know that she had entered. +Had she found only what she sought, she would have said openly to him +on his return: "Archibald, I went in for Madame Sauvage's note, and I +found it. I hope you don't mind—we were anxious about the box." But +somehow her eyes were now opened to the fact that she had been guilty +of a dishonourable<span class="pagenum">[288]</span> action, one that could not be excused or +justified. Had he not locked his door against intruders—herself as +well as others?</p> + +<p>Passing into the front room, where the table was now being laid for +luncheon, which they took at one o'clock, she drew a chair near the +fire, mechanically watching Sanders as he placed the dishes on the +table, in reality seeing nothing; her mind was in a tumult, very +painful and rebellious.</p> + +<p>Timms came stealing in. How any lady could be so indifferent as her +lady when a box of beautiful clothes was at stake, Timms could not +understand: sitting quietly there over the fire, and never coming back +to set a body's mind at rest with yes or no.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon for intruding," began Timms, with deprecation, "but did +your ladyship find Madame Sauvage's letter?"</p> + +<p>"No," curtly replied Lady Level. "I dare say the box is lost. Not much +matter if it is."</p> + +<p>Timms withdrew, lifting her hands in<span class="pagenum">[289]</span> condemning displeasure when she +got outside. "Not much matter! if ever I heard the like of that! A +whole trunk <i>full</i>! and some of 'em <i>lovely</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Will you sit down, now, my lady, or wait for his lordship?" inquired +Sanders.</p> + +<p>Lady Level answered the question by taking her place at table. She +felt as though she should never care to wait for his lordship again, +for luncheon or anything else. In a few minutes a cab dashed up to the +door, bringing him.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Blanche; I am glad you did not wait for me," he began. +"Sanders, is my hand-bag ready?"</p> + +<p>"Quite, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Put it into the cab, then."</p> + +<p>He hastened into the study as he spoke, and began putting things +straight there with a deft and rapid hand. In an incredibly short +time, the papers were all in order, locked up in their various +receptacles, and the table was cleared.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[290]</span></p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my love," said he, returning to the front room.</p> + +<p>"Do you not take anything to eat?" asked Blanche, in short and sullen +tones, which he was in too great a hurry to notice.</p> + +<p>"No: or I should lose the train."</p> + +<p>He caught her to him. Blanche turned her face away.</p> + +<p>"You silly child! you are cross with me for leaving you. My dear, +believe me, <i>I could not help it</i>. Charley is coming up to dine with +you this evening."</p> + +<p>Leaving his kisses on her lips, but getting none in return, Lord Level +went out to the cab. As it drove away, there came up to the door a +railway luggage van. The lost box had arrived from Paris. Timms knelt +down with extra fervour that night to offer up her thanksgivings.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Lord Level had snatched a moment to look in upon me, and ask me to +dine with Blanche that evening.</p> + +<p>"She is not pleased at being left alone," he<span class="pagenum">[291]</span> said; "but I am obliged +to run down to Marshdale. And, Charley, she saw something about Tom in +the paper this morning: I had to turn it off in the best way I could: +so be cautious if she mentions it to you."</p> + +<p>I had meant to look again after Tom Heriot that evening, but could not +refuse this. Blanche was unusually silent throughout dinner.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter, Blanche?" I asked her, when we were in the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"A great deal is the matter," she replied resentfully. "I am not going +to put up with it."</p> + +<p>"Put up with what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—with Lord Level. With his—his deceit. But I can't tell you now, +Charles: I shall speak to himself first."</p> + +<p>I laughed. "More jealousy cropping up! What has he done now, Blanche?"</p> + +<p>"What has he gone to Marshdale for?" retorted Blanche, her cheeks +flaming. "And<span class="pagenum">[292]</span> what did he go to Pisa for when we were last in Paris?" +continued she, without any pause. "He <i>did</i> go. It was in December; +and he was away ten days."</p> + +<p>"Well,' I suppose some matter or other called him there," I said. "As +to Marshdale—it is his place; his home. Why should this annoy you, +Blanche? A man cannot carry his wife with him everywhere."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> know," she said, catching up her fan, and beginning to use it +sharply. "I know more than you do, Charles. More than he thinks for—a +great deal more."</p> + +<p>"It strikes me, my dear, that you are doing your best to estrange your +husband from you—if you speak to him as you are speaking now. That +will not enhance your own happiness, Blanche."</p> + +<p>"The fault is his," she cried, turning her hot face defiantly upon me.</p> + +<p>"It may be. I don't think so."</p> + +<p>"He does not care for me <i>at all</i>. He cares for—for—somebody else."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[293]</span></p> + +<p>"You may be mistaken. I should be sorry to believe it. But, even +should it be so—listen, Blanche—even should it be so, you will do +well to change your tactics. <i>Try and win him back to you.</i> I tell it +you for the sake of your own happiness."</p> + +<p>Blanche tossed back her golden curls, and rose. "How old-fashioned you +are, Charles! it is of no use talking to you. Will you sing our old +duet with me—'I've wandered in dreams'?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. But I am out of practice."</p> + +<p>She had taken her place on the music-stool, and was playing the first +bars of the song, when a thought struck her, and she turned round.</p> + +<p>"Charley, such a curious thing happened this morning. I saw in the +<i>Times</i> a list of some escaped convicts, who had been on their way to +Van Diemen's Land, and amongst them was the name of Thomas Heriot. For +a moment it startled and frightened me."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were upon my face, so was the<span class="pagenum">[294]</span> light. Having a piece of music +in my hand, I let it fall, and stooped to pick it up.</p> + +<p>"Was it not strange, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly so. There may be a hundred Tom Heriots in the +world."</p> + +<p>"That's what Archibald said—or something to the same effect. But, do +you know, I cannot get it out of my head. And Tom's not writing to us +from India has seemed to me all day more strangely odd than it did +before."</p> + +<p>"India is a regular lazy place. The heat makes people indolent and +indifferent."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. Besides, as papa said to me in the few minutes we were +talking together before he went away, Tom may have written, and the +letters not have reached us. The mail from India is by no means a safe +one, he says; letters often get lost by it."</p> + +<p>"By no means safe: no end of letters are lost continually," I +murmured, seconding old Carlen's invention, knowing not what else to +say. "Let us go on, Blanche. It<span class="pagenum">[295]</span> is I who begin, I think—'I've +wandered in dreams.'"</p> + +<p>Wandered in dreams! If this misery connected with Tom Heriot were only +a dream, and not a reality!</p> + +<p class="h3">END OF VOL. II.</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h6">BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</p> + +<p class="h6"><i>S. & H.</i></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="trnote"> +<p class="h3">Transcriber's Notes:</p> + +<p>Inconsistent spelling such as Chantry and Chantrey retained.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange Vol. 2 +(of 3), by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + +***** This file should be named 38624-h.htm or 38624-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/6/2/38624/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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b/38624-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..79b6bb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/38624-h/images/titlepage.jpg diff --git a/38624.txt b/38624.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0ba675 --- /dev/null +++ b/38624.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6380 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange Vol. 2 (of 3), by +Mrs. Henry Wood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Story of Charles Strange Vol. 2 (of 3) + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: January 20, 2012 [EBook #38624] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE + + A Novel + + BY + + MRS. HENRY WOOD + + AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," ETC. + + IN THREE VOLUMES + + VOL. II. + + LONDON + + RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen + 1888 + [_All Rights Reserved_] + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOL. II. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. SUSPICION 1 + + II. NOT LIFTED 26 + + III. ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET 52 + + IV. LEAH'S STORY 75 + + V. LADY CLAVERING 100 + + VI. THE MISSING WILL 130 + + VII. ANNABEL 154 + + VIII. PERRY'S REVELATION 178 + + IX. SOMEONE ELSE SEEN 200 + + X. PROWLING ABOUT 224 + + XI. MRS. BRIGHTMAN 247 + + XII. MY LORD AND MY LADY 272 + + + + +THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SUSPICION. + + +The church-clock of that small country place, Upper Marshdale, was +chiming half-past nine on a dark night, as the local inspector turned +out of the police-station and made his way with a fleet step across a +piece of waste land and some solitary fields beyond it. His name was +Poole, and he was hastening to Marshdale House, as Lord Level's place +was called. A mysterious occurrence had taken place there the night +before: Lord Level, previously an invalid, had been stabbed in his +bed. + +The officer rang a loud peal at the outer gate, and a policeman, who +had been already sent on, came from the house to answer the summons. +He waited when they were both within the gate, knowing that he should +be questioned. His superior walked half-way up the avenue, and placed +his back against a tree. + +"What have you learnt, Jekyl? Any clue to the assassin?" + +The policeman dropped his voice to a whisper, as though afraid the +very trees might hear. "Speak up," sharply interrupted the inspector. +"The air carries no tales." + +"The case seems as clear, sir, as any we ever came across; a clear +case against Lady Level." + +It takes a great deal to astonish a police inspector, but this +announcement certainly astonished Mr. Inspector Poole. "Against Lady +Level?" he repeated. + +"She's the guilty one, sir, I fear. But who'd think it, to see her? +Only about twenty or so, and with beauty enough to knock you over, and +blue eyes that look you down in their pride. She's dressed out like +those high-born ladies do dress, in light silk that glistens as she +walks, her neck and arms uncovered. There's a gentleman with her now, +some friend of the family, and he won't let us go on with our +investigation. He came and stopped it, and said we were acting against +Lord Level's wishes." + +"But why do you suspect Lady Level?" inquired the inspector. + +"Listen, sir. It appears certain that no one got in; the doors and +windows were left safe, and were found so; hadn't been disturbed at +all; there has been no robbery, or anything of that sort, and no +suspicion attaches to any of the servants so far as I see. Then there +are the facts themselves. The servants were aroused in the middle of +the night by Lord Level's bell ringing violently, and my lady +screaming. When they got to his room, there he lay, fainted dead off, +stabbed in two places, and she pretty near fainting too, and dropped +down in a chair in her silk dressing-gown----" + +"I am acquainted with the facts so far, Jekyl." + +"Well, sir. Not a sign or symptom was there of anybody else being +about, or of anybody's having been about. Her ladyship's version is, +that she was woke up by Lord Level calling to her, and she found him +stabbed and bleeding. That is all she will confess to." + +"And he?" + +"He says nothing, I hear, except that he will not have the police +called in. He did not even want to have a doctor. But his lordship is +off his head with fever, and may not know what he is saying." + +"How does Lady Level account for the knife being found in her room?" + +"There it is," cried the man. "Whenever these people, let them be high +or low, do an evil deed, they are certain to commit some act of folly +which allows suspicion to creep in. They over-do it, or they under-do +it. If anyone else had done it and carried the weapon to her +ladyship's room, she must have seen who it was, and would surely have +denounced him. And why did _she_ put it there of all places? There's a +fatality on them, I say, sir, and they can't escape it." + +"But her motive for attacking him?" + +"They were on bad terms, it seems. The servants heard them quarrelling +violently earlier in the evening." + +"Did the servants tell you this, to confirm their suspicions against +her?" + +"They don't suspect her, sir," replied Jekyl. "I and Cliff have drawn +our own deductions by what they have said, and by personal +observation." + +The inspector mused. He was a kindly-disposed man, possessed his share +of common sense, and did not feel so sure about the matter as his +subordinate. "It appears scarcely credible that a young woman like +Lady Level, hardly six months married, should attempt her husband's +life, Jekyl. Where are these servants?" + +"In the kitchen, sir. This way. There's no establishment to speak of. +When my lord was detained here through damage to his knee, my lady +followed him down--against his will, it's whispered--and brought only +her maid and a man-servant." + +"I think you have been listening to a good deal of gossip," remarked +Inspector Poole, as he moved on to the house. + +Meanwhile Lady Level, in deep agitation, stood at the window which she +had had thrown up for air, while she made the confession to Mr. +Ravensworth that she had been a witness to the attack on her husband. +This she had denied before; and it might never have been wrung from +her, but that she overheard the two policemen, already in the house, +whispering their suspicions against her. + +She was shocked, indignant, terrified. She leaned for support on the +window-frame, panting for breath in the cold night air. + +"Arnold, am I to bear this?" + +He stood with folded arms. He felt for her deeply: were she connected +with him by near ties of blood, he could not have been more anxious to +protect her; but a strong doubt that she _might_ be guilty was working +within him. He supposed she must have received some great provocation +from Lord Level. + +"How cruel they are to entertain such a suspicion! If they--if +they---- Oh, Arnold, they never will arrest me!--they never will +publicly accuse me!" she uttered, as a new possibility occurred to +her. + +"Blanche, listen," he rejoined, talking to her as he had talked when +she was a child. "All that can be done for you, I will do; but I +cannot work in this uncertainty. Tell me the truth; be it good or be +it ill, I will stand by you; but, if I am to be of service to you, I +must know it. Was it you who struck Lord Level?" + +"No. Have I not just told you so?" + +"What you told me I do not understand. You say you saw it done----" + +"Then I did not see it done," she petulantly interrupted; and no more +questions would she answer. + +"Let me take you back to the fire," said Mr. Ravensworth, as he shut +down the window. "You are trembling with cold." + +"Not with cold," was her reply. + +Stirring the fire into a blaze, he drew the easy-chair near it for +her. He then stood by, saying nothing. + +"Suppose they should openly accuse me?" she began, after a silence. +"Would they arrest me?" + +"Blanche," he retorted, in sharp, ringing, imperative accents, "are +you guilty? Tell me, one way or the other, that I may know what to be +at." + +Lady Level rose and confronted him, her blue eyes wearing their most +haughty expression. "You have known me for many years, known me well; +how then can you repeat that question? _I_ guilty of attacking Lord +Level!" + +"I would rather believe myself--I could as soon believe my own wife +guilty of such a thing; but why have you equivocated with me? You have +not told me the truth, as to what passed that night." + +"My husband charged me not to tell anyone." + +"Five minutes ago you told me yourself that you saw it done; now you +say you did not see it. What am I to think?" + +"In saying I saw it done, I spoke hastily; what I ought to have said +was, that I saw who did it. And then, to-day, Lord Level insisted that +I had been dreaming," she abstractedly continued. "Arnold, do you +believe that we can see visions or dream dreams that afterwards wear +the semblance of realities?" + +"I wish you would not speak in riddles. The time is going on; those +men of the law may come in and accuse you, and what defence am I to +make for you? You know that you may trust me. What you say shall +never pass my lips." + +Lady Level deliberated. "I will trust you," she said at length: "there +seems to be no help for it. I went to rest last night angry with Lord +Level, for we had spoken irritating words to each other. I lay awake, +I dare say for an hour, indulging bitter thoughts, and then I dropped +asleep. Suddenly something woke me; I cannot tell you what it was: +whether it was any noise, or whether it was the opening of the door, +which I had closed, between my room and Lord Level's. All I know is, +that door was wide open, and someone stood in the doorway with a +lighted candle. It was a strange-looking object, and seemed to be +dressed in flannel--either a long flannel shirt or a flannel gown. In +the confusion of the moment I believed it must be Lord Level, and I +was struck with amazement, for Lord Level is not able to get out of +bed without assistance, from the injury to his knee, and I thought how +long his hair was, and how dark it had grown--that was, you know, +when I was between sleeping and waking. Then I saw that it had large, +flashing black eyes, so it could not be Lord Level. It crossed the +room----" + +"Blanche," he interrupted, "you speak just as if you were describing a +vision. It----" + +"That is what Lord Level now says it was. Let me go on. It crossed the +room as far as the dressing-table. I started up in bed then, and the +wild eyes turned upon me, and at the same moment Lord Level called out +from his own bed, apparently in agitation or pain. The figure dropped +something, turned round, and darted back again through the open door +to the other chamber. I saw the candle fall from its hand to the +floor, and the place was in darkness, except for the little light that +came from Lord Level's night-lamp. Terror overwhelmed me, and I cried +out, and then my husband called to me by name. I ran to his room, +flinging on my warm silk dressing-gown as I went, and there I found +him hurt in some way, for he was bleeding from the arm and from the +side. Arnold, as I live, as I breathe, that is the whole truth," she +concluded with emotion. + +"Did you again see the figure? Was it in Lord Level's room?" + +"It was not there. I saw no trace of it. I remember I picked up the +candlestick, for it was right in my path, and I screamed when I saw +the blood upon my husband. He caught me to him by the other arm, as I +have told you, telling me not to be frightened, that he would protect +me; and I saw how white he looked, and that his brow was damp. +Presently I asked him who and what it was; and the question seemed to +excite him. 'Say nothing of what you have seen,' he cried; 'I charge +you, _nothing_.' I don't quite know what I replied; it was to the +effect that the household must be aroused, and the figure searched +for. 'Blanche, you are my wife,' he said solemnly; 'my interests are +yours; I charge you, by your duty and obedience to me, that you say +nothing. Bury this in silence, as you value your life and mine.' Then +he fainted and his hold relaxed, and I screamed out and the servants +came. Had my life depended upon it I could not have helped screaming. +What the figure had dropped in my room proved to be the knife." + +"This is a very strange account!" exclaimed Mr. Ravensworth. + +"It is so strange that I lose myself at times, wondering whether I was +dreaming or awake. But it was true; it was true; though I could not +proclaim it in defiance of my husband." + +"Do you think the figure, as you call it, could have been one of the +servants in disguise?" + +"I am certain it was not. Not one of them has that dark Italian face." + +"Italian face!" echoed Mr. Ravensworth. "Why do you call it an Italian +face?" + +Lady Level bent her head. "The thought somehow struck me," she +answered, after a pause. "Not at the time, but since. I fancied it +not unlike the Italian faces that one sees in pictures." + +"Was it a man or a woman?" + +"I do not know. At the time I took it to be a man, quite young. But +since, recalling the appearance--well, it seems to me that it is +impossible to decide which it was." + +"And you saw no signs of this mysterious figure afterwards?" + +"None whatever. There were no traces, I tell you, of its having been +there, except the injury to Lord Level, the knife, and the fallen +candlestick. The candlestick may have been left in Lord Level's room +the previous night, for it is precisely like those used in the +household, so that the figure may have lighted it from the +night-lamp." + +Mr. Ravensworth could not make much of all this. It puzzled him. "The +curious thing is," he said aloud, "where could the figure have come +from?" + +"The curious thing is, that Lord Level wants to persuade me now that +this was only a dream of the imagination." + +"That his wounds are?" + +"Not his wounds, of course--or the knife, but a great deal of what I +told him. He ridicules the bare idea of its being a 'strange figure,' +'strangely dressed.' He says he caught a full view of the man who +attacked him; that he should know him again; that he was dressed in a +sort of soft light fustian, and was no more wild-looking than I am, +except such wildness as arose from his state of inebriation, and he +suspects he was a poacher who must have got in through one of the +windows." + +Mr. Ravensworth pondered over the tale: and he could not help deeming +it a most improbable one. But that traces of some mysterious presence +had been left behind, he would have regarded it as her husband +appeared partially to regard it--a midnight freak of Lady Level's +imagination. "Yet the wounds are realities," said Mr. Ravensworth, +speaking aloud, in answer to his own thoughts. + +"Arnold, it is all a reality," she said impressively. "There are +moments, I say, when I am almost tempted to question it, but in my +sober reason I know it to have been true; and while I ask myself, 'Was +it a dream?' I hold a perfect, positive conviction that it was only +too terrible a reality." + +"You have spoken once or twice of its wild appearance. Did it look +like a madman?" + +"I never saw a madman, that I know of. This creature looked wild +enough to be mad. There was one thing I thought curious in connection +with finding the knife," proceeded Lady Level. "Timms, who picked it +up, while Sanders had gone down for some hot water, brought it into +Lord Level's room, calling out that she had found the weapon. 'Why, +that's Mr. Drewitt's knife!' exclaimed the housemaid, Deborah, as soon +as she saw it; and the steward, who had only just reached the room, +asked her how she could make the assertion. 'It is yours, sir,' said +Deborah; 'it's your new knife; I have seen it on your table, and +should know it anywhere.' 'Deborah, if you repeat that again, I'll +have you punished,' sharply called out the housekeeper, without, you +understand, turning from Lord Level, to whom she was attending, to +ascertain whether it was or was not the knife. Now, Arnold," added +Lady Level, "ill and terrified as I felt at the moment, a conviction +came across me that it was Mr. Drewitt's knife, but that he and Mrs. +Edwards were purposely denying it." + +"It is impossible to suspect them of attacking, or conniving at the +attack on Lord Level." + +"They attack Lord Level! They would rather attack the whole world +combined, than that a hair of his head should suffer. They are fondly, +devotedly attached to him. And Deborah, it appears, has been convinced +out of her assertion. Hark! who is that?" + +Mr. Ravensworth opened the door to reconnoitre. The inspector was +prowling about the house and passages, exploring the outlets and +inlets, followed by his two men, who had done the same before him. + +"I thought you had forbidden the men to search," cried Lady Level. +"Why are they disobeying you?" + +"Their chief is here now, and of course his orders go before mine. +Besides, after what you have told me, I consider there ought to be a +thorough search," added Mr. Ravensworth. + +"In opposition to Lord Level?" + +"I think that Lord Level has not taken a sufficiently serious view of +the case. The only solution I can come to is, that some escaped madman +got into the house before it was closed for the night, and concealed +himself in it. If so, he may be in it now." + +"Now! In it now!" she exclaimed, turning pale. + +"Upon my word, I think it may be so. The doors and windows were all +found safely fastened, you see. Therefore he could not escape during +the night. And since the doors were opened this morning, the +household, I take it, has been so constantly on the alert, that it +might be an extremely difficult matter for him to get away unseen. If +he, this madman, did enter yesterday evening, he must have found some +place of concealment and hidden himself in it for hours, since it was +not until one o'clock that he made the attack on Lord Level." + +"Oh, Arnold, that is all too improbable," she rejoined doubtingly. "A +madman could not plan and do all that." + +"Madmen are more cunning than sane ones, sometimes." + +"But I--I think it was a woman," said Lady Level, lowering her voice +and her eyes. + +Mr. Ravensworth looked at her. And for the first time, a feeling +flashed into his mind that Lady Level had some suspicion which she +would not speak of. + +"Blanche," he said sharply, "do you know who it was? Tell me, if you +do." + +"I do not," she answered emphatically. "I may imagine this and +imagine that, but I do not know anything." + +"You were speaking, then, from imagination?" + +"Y--es. In a case of mystery, such as this, imagination runs riot, and +you can't prevent its doing so." + +Again there was something about Lady Level that struck Mr. Ravensworth +as being not honestly true. Before more could be said, steps were +heard approaching the room; and Lady Level, afraid to meet the police, +made her escape from it. + +Running swiftly upstairs, she was passing Lord Level's door to enter +her own, when she heard his voice, speaking collectedly, and peeped +in. He saw her, and held out his hand. He appeared now quite rational, +though his fine gray eyes were glistening and his fair face was +flushed. Mrs. Edwards was standing by the bedside, and it was to her +he had been talking. + +Blanche advanced timidly. "Are you feeling better?" she softly asked. + +"Oh, much better; nearly well: but for my knee I should be up and +about," he answered, as he drew her towards him. "Mrs. Edwards, will +you close the door? I wish to speak with my wife." + +Mrs. Edwards, with a warning glance at her lady, which seemed to say, +"He is not fit for it"--at least Blanche so interpreted it--went out +and shut the door. Lord Level drew her closer to his side. He was +lying propped up by a mound of pillows, almost sitting up in bed, and +kept her standing there. + +"Blanche," he began in very quiet tones, "I hear the police are in the +house." + +"Yes," she was obliged to answer, quite taken aback and feeling very +much vexed that he had been told, as it was likely to excite him. + +"Who sent for them? You?" + +"Oh no." + +"Then it was your friend; that fellow Ravensworth. I thought as much." + +"But indeed it was not," she eagerly answered, shrinking from her +husband's scornful tones. "When the two policemen came in--and we do +not know who it was sent them--Mr. Ravensworth went to them by my +desire to stop the search. I told him that you objected to it." + +"Objected to it! I forbade it," haughtily rejoined Lord Level. "And +if--if----" + +"Oh, pray, Archibald, do not excite yourself; do not, do not!" she +interrupted, frightened and anxious. "You know you will become worse +again if you do." + +"Will you go and end it in my name? End it, and send them away from +the house." + +"Yes, if you tell me to do so; if you insist upon it," she answered. +"But I am afraid." + +"Why are you afraid?" + +Lady Level bent her head until it was on a level with his. "For this, +Archibald," she whispered: "that they might question me--and I should +be obliged to answer them." + +Lord Level gently drew her cool cheek nearer, that it might rest +against his fevered one, and remained silent, apparently pondering the +question. + +"After I told you all that I saw that night, you bade me be silent," +she resumed. "Well, I fear the police might draw it from me if they +questioned me." + +"But you must not allow them to draw it from you." + +"Oh, but perhaps I could not help it," she sighed. "You know what the +police are--how they question and cross-question people." + +"Blanche, I reminded you last night that you were my wife, and you +owed me implicit obedience in all great things." + +"Yes, and I am trying to obey you; I am indeed, Archibald," she +protested, almost torn by conflicting emotions; for, in spite of her +doubts and suspicions, and (as she put it to herself) her "wrongs," +she loved her husband yet. + +"Well, my dear, you must be brave for my sake; ay, and for your own. +Listen, Blanche: you will tell the police _nothing_; and they _must +not search the house_. I don't care to see them myself to forbid it; I +don't want to see them. For one thing, I am hardly strong enough to +support the excitement it would cause me. But----" + +"Will you tell me something, Archibald?" she whispered. "Is +the--the--person--that attacked you in the house now?" + +Lord Level looked surprised. "In this house? Why, how could it be? +Certainly not." + +"Was it--was it a woman?" she breathed, her voice low and tremulous. + +He turned angry. "How can you be so silly, Blanche? A woman! Oh yes," +changing to sarcasm, "of course it was a woman. It was you, perhaps." + +"That is what they are saying, Archibald." + +"_What_ are they saying?" he returned, in dangerous excitement--if +Blanche had only noticed the signs. For all this was agitating him. + +"Why, that," she answered, bursting into tears. "The police are saying +so. They are saying that it was I who stabbed you." + +Lord Level cried out as a man in agony. And, with that, delirium came +on again. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +NOT LIFTED. + + +My Lady Level sat at the open window of her husband's sitting-room, in +the dark, her hot face lifted to the cool night air. Only a moment ago +Lord Level had been calling out in his delirium, and Mrs. Edwards was +putting cool appliances to his head, and damp, hot bricks to his feet. +And Blanche knew that it was she who, by her indiscreet remarks and +questioning, had brought on the crisis. She had not meant to harm or +excite him; but she had done it; and she was very contrite. + +It was now between ten and eleven o'clock. She did not intend to go to +bed that night; and she had already slipped off her evening dress, +and put on a morning one of soft gray cashmere. With his lordship in a +fresh attack of fever, and the police about, the household did not +think of going to rest. + +Blanche Level sat in a miserable reverie, her lovely face pressed upon +her slender hand, the tears standing in her blue eyes. She was +suspecting her husband of all kinds of unorthodox things--this has +been said before. Not the least disloyal of them being that an +individual named Nina, who wore long gold earrings to enhance her +charms, was concealed in that east wing, which might almost be called +a separate house, and which owned a separate entrance. + +And a conviction lay upon Lady Level--caught up since, not at the +time--that it was this Nina who had attacked Lord Level. She could not +drive away the impression. + +Naturally she was bitterly resentful. Not at the attack, but at all +the rest of it. She had said nothing yet to her husband, and she did +not know whether she ever should say it; for even to speak upon such +a topic reflected on herself a shame that stung her. _Of course_ he +forbade the search lest this visitor should be discovered, reasoned +she; that is, he told her to forbid it: but ought she to obey him? +Lady Level, cowering there in the darkness, would have served as a +perfect exemplification of a small portion of Collins's "Ode to the +Passions." + + 'Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed, + Sad proof of thy distressful state; + Of differing themes the veering song was mixed, + And now it courted love, now raving, called on hate.' + +Thus was it here. One moment she felt that she could--and should--put +Lord Level away from her for his falsity, his treachery; the next she +was conscious that life without him would be one long and bitter +penance, for she had learned to love him with her whole heart and +soul. + +And until that miserable sojourn at Pisa, she had deemed that he +returned her love, truly and passionately. Fie on the deceitful wiles +of man! + +A stir in the passage without. Was there any change in Lord Level, for +better or for worse? Despite her resentment, she was anxious, and she +opened the door. Mrs. Edwards had come out from the opposite chamber, +a basin in hand. + +"My lady, he is calmer," whispered the housekeeper, answering the +unspoken question which she read in her eyes. "If he could only be +kept so, if he had nothing to disturb him, he would soon be well +again. It is a most unlucky thing that these police should have come +here, where they are not wanted. That of itself must bring excitement +to his lordship." + +"It is unlucky that these tales should have been carried to him," +haughtily reproved the young lady. "I cannot think who does it, or +why." + +"Nay, my lady, but when his lordship questions of this and that, he +must be answered." + +Closing the door of the sick-chamber very quietly, Mrs. Edwards passed +down the stairs. At the same moment, covert steps were heard +ascending them. Lady Level caught a glimpse of Mr. Inspector Poole's +head, and stole back out of sight. + +Meanwhile Mr. Ravensworth had been trying to gain a little explanation +from that official. "Do you know," he said to him, "that you are here +against Lord Level's wishes, and in direct opposition to his orders?" + +"No, I do not," replied the inspector. "I did not understand it in +that light. I certainly was told that his lordship had said he would +not have the case officially inquired into, but I understood that he +was lightheaded when he spoke, not at all conscious of what he was +saying." + +"From whom, then, did you receive your instructions, Mr. Poole?" + +"From Dr. Macferraty," was the ready answer. "He called in at the +station this evening." + +"Ah!" cried Arnold Ravensworth. + +"It would be a grave mistake, he said, if so monstrous a thing--they +were the doctors own words--should be left uninvestigated, because his +lordship was off his head," added the inspector. "May I ask, sir, if +you entertain any suspicion--in any quarter?" + +"Not any," decisively replied Mr. Ravensworth. "The whole thing is to +me most mysterious." + +The speakers looked at one another. Mr. Poole was deliberating whether +he should give a hint of what Jekyl had said about Lady Level. But he +was saved the trouble. + +"I understand, through overhearing a word or two, that your men have +been wondering whether the culprit could have been Lady Level," spoke +Mr. Ravensworth in low tones. "The very idea is monstrous: you have +but now used the right word. _Believe me_, she is innocent as a child. +But she is most terribly frightened." + +"Well, I thought it very unlikely," admitted the inspector. + +"But it seems," slowly continued Mr. Ravensworth, weighing well his +words, "that she caught sight at the time, or thought she caught +sight, of a figure curiously attired in white flannel, who dropped, or +flung, the knife down in her chamber. Lord Level says it was not white +flannel, but light fustian, such as a countryman might wear. According +to that, he must also have seen the individual. The difficulty, +however, is, to know whether his lordship is speaking in his senses or +out of them." + +"Someone must have got in, then, after all; in spite of the doors +being found as they were left." + +"I think so. I cannot see any other loophole for suspicion to fall +back upon. Concealed himself in the house probably beforehand. And, +for all we know, may be concealed in it still. I gathered an +impression while Lady Level was talking to me that it might really be +some escaped madman. All the same, Lord Level persists in forbidding +the matter to be investigated." + +Keen and practical, the officer revolved what he heard. The story was +a curious one altogether, and as yet he did not see his way in it. + +"I think, sir," he said with deliberation, "that I shall take the +affair into my hands, and act, in the uncertain state of his +lordship's mind, upon my own responsibility. First of all, we will +just go through the house." + +Mr. Ravensworth went with him: they two together. After a thorough +search, nothing wrong could they find or discover. The servants and +the two policemen remained below; Mrs. Edwards was in close attendance +upon his lordship; and the steward, who appeared most exceedingly to +resent the presence of these police in the house, had shut himself +into his rooms. + +In the course of time, the inspector and Mr. Ravensworth approached +these rooms. Passing Lord Level's chamber with soft footsteps, they +traversed the passages beyond it, until they found themselves stopped +by a door, which was fastened. + +Mr. Poole shook it. "It must lead to some of the remote rooms," he +observed, "and they are uninhabited. Just the spot for an assassin to +conceal himself in--or to try to do so." + +"I think these may be the steward's apartments," spoke Arnold +Ravensworth doubtingly. "I remember Lady Level said they were only +divided from his lordship's chamber by a passage or two." + +Whose ever rooms they were, no one came to the door in answer to the +summons, and the inspector knocked again. + +This time it brought forth Mr. Drewitt. They heard him draw a chain, +and then he opened the door a few inches, as far as the chain +permitted him. + +"Will you let us in, Mr. Drewitt? I must search these rooms." + +"Search for what?" asked the old man. "It's you, is it, Poole! I +cannot have my rooms searched. This morning, after the alarm, I went +over them, to be quite sure, and that's sufficient." + +"Allow me to search for myself," returned the officer. + +"No, sir," answered the steward, with dignity. "No one shall come in +to search these rooms in opposition to the wish of my lord. His orders +to me were that the affair should be allowed to drop, and I for one +will not disobey him, or give help to those who would. His lordship +believed that whoever it might be that attacked him came in and went +out again. The country might be hunted over, he said, but not his +house." + +"I must enter here," was all the answer reiterated by the officer. + +"It shall be over my body, then," returned the steward, with emotion. +"My lord forbade a search, and you have no right whatever to proceed +with it." + +"My good man, I am a police inspector." + +"You may be inspector-general for all I care," retorted the old +gentleman, "but you don't come in here. Get my lord's authority +first, and then you will be welcome. As to reminding me who you are, +Mr. Poole, you must know that to be superfluous. And I beg _your_ +pardon, sir," he added, addressing Mr. Ravensworth, "but I would +inquire what authority you hold from my lord, that you, a stranger, +should set at naught his expressed wishes?" + +The door was shut and bolted in their faces, and the inspector leaned +against the wall in thought. "Did you notice his agitation?" he +whispered to Mr. Ravensworth. "There's more in this than meets the +eye." + +It certainly wore that appearance. However, for the present they were +foiled, and the steward remained master of the position. To attempt to +enter those rooms by force would create noise and commotion in the +house that might be disastrous to the health of Lord Level. + +"There's _something_ in those rooms that has to be concealed," spoke +the astute inspector. "If it be the man who attacked Lord Level----" + +"But the steward, devoted as he is to his master, would not harbour +_him_," impulsively interrupted Arnold Ravensworth. + +"True. Unless--unless, mind you, there exists some cause, which we +cannot even guess at, for his lordship's shielding him," said the +inspector. "I must say I should like to get into the rooms." + +"There is no other way of doing it; no other entrance." + +"I don't know that, sir. Unless I am mistaken, these rooms communicate +direct with the East Wing. By getting into that, we might find an +unsuspected entrance." + +He made his way downstairs in silence, musing as he went. At the foot +of the staircase he encountered Deborah. + +"Which are the passages in this lower part of the house that lead to +the East Wing?" he inquired. + +"Not any of them, sir," answered Deborah promptly. "At least, not any +that are ever opened. At the end of the stone passage there's a heavy +door, barred and bolted, that leads to other passages, I believe, and +to other heavy bolted doors, and they lead into the East Wing. That's +what I have heard say. The only entrance in use is the one through Mr. +Drewitt's rooms." + +Opposition seemed only to strengthen the will of Mr. Inspector Poole. +"Into the rooms I mean to make my way," he said to Mr. Ravensworth, as +he retraced his steps up the staircase. "Could you not," he hastily +added, "get Lady Level to bring her authority to bear upon old +Drewitt?" + +It was the appearance of Lady Level that probably induced the thought. +She, looking pale, haggard and uneasy, was peeping down at them, and +did not escape in time. + +Arnold Ravensworth somewhat hesitatingly acceded. They wished to speak +to Mr. Drewitt--he put it to her in that way--but he had bolted +himself into his rooms; would she use her authority and bid him admit +them? + +She complied at once, unsuspiciously. Of all parts of the house, that +occupied by the steward must be most free from concealment. And she +went with them to the barred-up door. + +The steward did not presume to dispute Lady Level's mandate, which she +gave somewhat imperiously. She entered with them. They found +themselves in the old gentleman's sitting-room, and he placed chairs +for them. "We have not come to sit down," said Mr. Poole; and he +passed into the other rooms in rapid succession: the two bed-chambers +and the unoccupied room that had nothing in it but a few trunks. A +very cursory inspection convinced him that no person was being +harboured there. + +"Why could you not have admitted us just now, Mr. Drewitt?" he asked. + +"Because you brought not the authority of either my lord or my lady," +answered the faithful old retainer. + +The inspector strode to the end of the passage and stood before the +oaken door already spoken of, examining its heavy fastenings. The +others had followed him. + +"This must be the door communicating between the house and the East +Wing," he remarked. "Will you open it, Mr. Drewitt?" + +"No, sir, I will not." + +"But we must have it opened," interposed Arnold Ravensworth. "The fact +is, we have some reason to fear the midnight assassin may yet be +hiding himself on the premises. He does not appear to be in the house, +so he may be in the East Wing--and we mean to search it." + +"Are you an enemy of my lord's?" returned the old man, greatly +agitated. + +"Certainly not. I would rather be his friend. I have been the friend, +if I may so express it, of Lady Level since she was a child, and I +must see that she is protected, her husband being for the time laid +aside." + +"My lady," called out the old man, visibly trembling, "I appeal to +you, as my lord's second self, to forbid these gentlemen from +attempting to enter the East Wing." + +"Be firm, Blanche," whispered Mr. Ravensworth, as she came forward. +"We must search the East Wing, and it is for your sake." + +She turned to the steward. "I am sure that they are acting for the +best. Open the door." + +For one moment the old man hesitated, and then wrung his hands. "That +I should be forced to disobey the wife of my lord! My lady, I crave +your pardon, but I will not open these rooms unless I have the express +authority of his lordship to do so." + +"But I wish it done, Mr. Drewitt," she said, blushing hotly. + +Police inspectors have generally the means of carrying out their own +will. Mr. Poole, after critically regarding the fastenings, produced +one or two small instruments from his pockets and a bunch of keys. As +he was putting one of the keys into the lock for the purpose of trying +whether it would fit it, a curious revulsion came over Lady Level. +Possibly the piteous, beseeching countenance of the steward induced +it. "He _is_ my husband, after all," she whispered to her own heart. + +"Stop!" she said aloud, pushing the key downwards. "I may not have the +right to sanction this in opposition to the wish of Lord Level. He has +forbidden any search to be made, and I must do the same." + +There was a moment's silence. The inspector gazed at her. + +"When his lordship shall be sufficiently recovered to see you, sir, +you can take instructions from him if he sees well to give them," she +added to the officer civilly. "Until then, I must act for him, and I +forbid----" + +"Highty-tighty, and what's the matter here?" broke in a hearty voice +behind them, at which they all turned in surprise. Making his way +along the passage was a portly, but rather short man of sixty years, +with an intellectual brow and benevolent countenance, a red face and a +bald head. The change in Mr. Drewitt's look was remarkable; its +piteousness had changed to radiance. + +The new-comer shook hands with him. Then he turned and affably shook +hands with the inspector, speaking gaily. "You look as if you had the +business of all the world on your shoulders, Poole." + +"Have you seen my lord, Mr. Hill?" asked the steward. + +"I got back home to-night and came on here at once, hearing of the +hubbub you are in, and I have seen my lord for a few minutes. And this +is my lady--and a very charming lady I am sure she is," he added, +bowing to Lady Level with an irresistible smile. "Will she shake hands +with the old man who has been doctor-in-ordinary to her lord's family +for ages and ages?" + +Blanche put her hand into his. She, as she was wont sometimes to tell +him in days to come, fell in love with him at once. + +"What a blessing that you are back again!" murmured the good old +steward. + +"Ay," assented Mr. Hill, perhaps purposely misinterpreting the +remark: "we will have Lord Level up and about in no time now.--Mr. +Poole, I want a private word with you." + +The doctor drew him into the steward's sitting-room, and closed the +door. The conference did not last more than a minute or two, but it +was very effectual. For when Mr. Inspector Poole came forth, he +announced his decision of withdrawing all search at present. To be +resumed if necessary, he added, when his lordship should have +recovered sufficiently to give his own orders. + +The only one who did not appear to be altogether satisfied with this +summary check was Arnold Ravensworth. He did not understand it. Upon +some remark being made as to Lady Level's safety from any attack by +the midnight villain, Mr. Hill at once told her _he_ would guarantee +that. And though he spoke with a laugh, as if making light of the +matter, there was an assurance in his eye and tone that she might +implicitly trust to. + +"Then--as it seems I cannot be of any further use to you to-night, and +as I may just catch the midnight up-train, I will wish you good-bye, +Lady Level," said Mr. Ravensworth. "I am easy about you, now Mr. Hill +is here. But be sure to write for me if you think I can be of service +to you or to Lord Level." + +"I will, I will," she answered. "Thank you, Arnold, for coming." + + * * * * * + +Marshdale House returned to its usual monotony, and a day or two went +on. Nothing more was seen or heard of the unknown individual who had +so disturbed its peace; the very mention of it was avoided. +Nevertheless, Blanche, turning matters over in her mind, could only +look at it and at that detestable East Wing with an increased sense of +mystery. "But for knowing that someone was there who might not be +disclosed to the honest light of day, why should he have forbidden the +search?" ran the argument that she was for ever holding with herself; +and she steeled her heart yet more against her husband. + +On this, the second afternoon after the commotion, she was sitting +reading a newspaper in the garden, where the sun was shining hotly, +when Mr. Hill, who had been up with Lord Level, appeared. + +"Well," said the doctor cheerily, halting before her, "he is a great +deal better, and the knee's ever so much stronger. I shall have him up +to-morrow. And in a couple of days after that he may venture to travel +to town, as he is so anxious to get there." + +"Your treatment seems to agree with him better than Dr. Macferraty's +did," she answered. + +"Ay: I know his constitution, you see. Good-day, Lady Level. I shall +be in again to-night." + +Soon after the doctor went out, there was heard a shrill whistle at +the gate, together with a kicking about of gravel by a pair of rough +boots. Lady Level looked up, and saw the boy from the station bringing +in a parcel. + +"Well, Sam," said she, as the lad approached. "What have you come +for?" + +"They sent me on with this here parcel--and precious heavy he is for +his size," replied Sam Doughty, as without ceremony he tumbled the +parcel on to the bench by Lady Level's side. It was addressed to her, +and she knew that it contained some books which Mr. Ravensworth had +promised to send down. "Come down by the mid-day train," curtly added +the boy for her information. + +"Do you get paid for delivering parcels, Sam?" + +"_Me_ get paid!" returned the youth, with intense aggravation; "no +such luck. Unless," added he, a happy thought striking him, "anybody +likes to give me something for myself--knowing how weighty they be, +and what a lug it is for one's arms." + +"This parcel is not at all heavy," said Lady Level. + +"I'm sure he is, then, for his size. You should lift, though, what I +have to drag along sometimes. Why, yesterday that ever was, I brought +a parcel as big as a house to the next door; one that come from Lunnon +by the mid-day train just as this'n did; and Mother Snow she never +gave me nothing but a jam tart, no bigger nor the round o' your hand. +She were taking a tray on 'em out o' the oven." + +"Jam tarts for _her_ delectation!" was the thought that flashed +through Lady Level's mind. "Who was the parcel for, Sam?" she asked +aloud. + +"'Twere directed to Mrs. Snow." + +"Oh. Not to that lady who is staying there?" + +"What lady be that?" questioned Sam. + +"The one you told me about. The lady with the long gold earrings." + +Sam's stolid countenance assumed a look of doubt, as if he did not +altogether understand. His eyes grew wider. + +"_That_ un! Her bain't there now, her bain't. Her didn't stop. Her +went right away again the next day after she come." + +"_Did_ she?" exclaimed Lady Level, taken by surprise. "Are you sure?" + +"Be I sure as that's a newspaper in your hand?" retorted Sam. "In +course I be sure. The fly were ordered down here for her the next +morning, and she come on to the station in it, Mr. Snow a sitting +outside." + +"She went back to London, then!" + +"She went just t'other way," contradicted the boy. "Right on by the +down-train. Dover her ticket were took for." + +Lady Level fell into a passing reverie. All the conjectures she had +been indulging in lately--whither had they flown? At that moment Mrs. +Edwards, having seen the boy from the house, came out to ask what he +wanted. Sam put on his best behaviour instantly. The respect he failed +to show to the young lady was in full force before Mrs. Edwards. + +"I come to bring this here parcel, please, ma'am, for Lady Level," +said he, touching his old cap. + +"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Edwards. "I'll carry it indoors, my lady," +she added, taking it up. "You need not wait, Sam." + +Lady Level slipped a sixpence into his ready hand, and he went off +contented. Mrs. Edwards carried away the parcel. + +Presently Lady Level followed, her mind busy as she went upstairs. She +was taking some contrition to herself. What if--if it was all, or a +great deal of it, only her imagination--that her husband was not the +disloyal man she had deemed him? + +His chamber door was closed; she passed it and went into her own. Then +she opened the door separating the rooms and peeped in. He was lying +upon the bed, partly dressed, and wrapped in a warm dressing-gown; his +face was turned to the pillow, and he was apparently asleep. + +She stole up and stood looking at him. Not a trace of fever lingered +in his face now; his fine features looked wan and delicate. Her love +for him was making itself heard just then. Cautiously she stooped to +imprint a soft, silent kiss upon his cheek; and then another. + +She would have lifted her face then, and found she could not do so. +His arm was round her in a trice, holding it there; his beautiful gray +eyes had opened and were fixed on hers. + +"So you care for me a little bit yet, Blanche," he fondly whispered. +"Better this than calling me hard names." + +She burst into tears. "I should care for you always, Archibald, +if--if--I were sure you cared for me." + +"You may be very sure of _that_," he emphatically answered. "Let there +be peace between us, at any rate, my dear wife. The clouds will pass +away in time." + +On the Monday morning following, Lord and Lady Level departed for +London. The peace, patched up between them, being honestly genuine and +hopeful on his lordship's part, but doubtful on that of my lady. + +Still nothing had been said or done to lift the mystery which hung +about Marshdale. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET. + + +We go on now to the following year: and I, Charles Strange, take up +the narrative again. + + * * * * * + +It has been said that the two rooms on the ground-floor of our house +in Essex Street were chiefly given over to the clerks. I had a desk in +the front office; the same desk that I had occupied as a boy; and I +frequently sat at it now. Mr. Lennard's desk stood opposite to mine. +On the first floor the large front room was furnished as a +sitting-room. It was called Mr. Brightman's room, and there he +received his clients. The back room was called my room; but Mr. +Brightman had a desk in it, and I had another. His desk stood in the +middle of the room before the hearthrug; mine was under the window. + +One fine Saturday afternoon in February, when it was getting near five +o'clock, I was writing busily at my desk in this latter room, when Mr. +Brightman came in. + +"Rather dark for you, is it not, Charles?" he remarked, as he stirred +the fire and sat down in his arm-chair beside it. + +"Yes, sir; but I have almost finished." + +"What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow?" he presently +asked, when I was putting up my parchments. + +"Nothing in particular, sir." I could not help sometimes retaining my +old way of addressing him, as from clerk to master. "Last Sunday I was +with my uncle Stillingfar." + +"Then you may as well come down to Clapham and dine with me. Mrs. +Brightman is away for a day or two, and I shall be alone. Come in time +for service." + +I promised, and drew a chair to the fire, ready to talk with Mr. +Brightman. He liked a little chat with me at times when the day's work +was over. It turned now on Lord Level, from whom I had heard that +morning. We were not his usual solicitors, but were doing a little +matter of business for him. He and Blanche had been abroad since the +previous November (when they had come up together from Marshdale), and +had now been in Paris for about a month. + +"Do they still get on pretty well?" asked Mr. Brightman: for he knew +that there had been differences between them. + +"Pretty well," I answered, rather hesitatingly. + +And, in truth, it was only pretty well, so far as I was able to form a +judgment. During this sojourn of theirs in Paris I had spent a few +days there with a client, and saw Blanche two or three times. That she +was living in a state of haughty resentment against her husband was +indisputable. Why or wherefore, I knew not. She dropped a mysterious +word to me now and then, of which I could make nothing. + +While Mr. Brightman was saying this, a clerk came in, handed a letter +to him and retired. + +"What a nuisance!" cried he, as he read it by fire-light. I looked up +at the exclamation. + +"Sir Edmund Clavering's coming to town this evening, and wants me to +be here to see him!" he explained. "I can't go home to dinner now." + +"Which train is he coming by?" I asked. + +"One that is due at Euston Square at six o'clock," replied Mr. +Brightman, referring to the letter. "I wanted to be home early this +evening." + +"You are not obliged to wait, sir," I said. I wished to my heart +later--oh, how I wished it!--that he had not waited! + +"I suppose I must, Charles. He is a good client, and easily takes +offence. Recollect that breeze we had with him three or four months +ago." + +The clocks struck five as he spoke, and we heard the clerks leaving as +usual. I have already stated that no difference was made in the +working hours on Saturdays in those days. Afterwards, Mr. Lennard came +up to ask whether there was anything more to be done. + +"Not now," replied Mr. Brightman. "But I tell you what, Lennard," he +added, as a thought seemed to occur to him, "you may as well look in +again to-night, about half-past seven or eight, if it won't +inconvenience you. Sir Edmund Clavering is coming up; I conclude it is +for something special; and I may have instructions to give for Monday +morning." + +"Very well," replied Lennard. "I will come." + +He went out as he spoke; a spare, gentlemanly man, with a fair +complexion and thin, careworn face. Edgar Lennard was a man of few +words, but attentive and always at his post, a most efficient +superintendent of the office and of the clerks in general. + +He left and Mr. Brightman rose, saying he would go and get some dinner +at the Rainbow. I suggested that he should share my modest steak, +adding that Leah could as easily send up enough for two as for one: +but he preferred to go out. I rang the bell as I heard him close the +frontdoor. Watts answered it, and lighted the gas. + +"Tell your wife to prepare my dinner at once," I said to him; "or as +soon as possible: Mr. Brightman is coming back to-night. You are going +out, are you not?" + +"Yes, sir, about that business. Mr. Lennard said I had better go as +soon as I had had my tea." + +"All right. It will take you two or three hours to get there and back +again. See to the fire in the next room; it is to be kept up. And, +Watts, tell Leah not to trouble about vegetables to-day: I can't wait +for them." + +In about twenty minutes Leah and the steak appeared. I could not help +looking at her as she placed the tray on the table and settled the +dishes. Thin, haggard, untidy, Leah presented a strange contrast to +the trim, well-dressed upper servant I had known at White Littleham +Rectory. It was Watts who generally waited upon me. When Leah knew +beforehand that she would have to wait, she put herself straight. +Today she had not known. My proper sitting-room upstairs was not much +used in winter. This one was warm and comfortable, with the large fire +kept in it all day, so I generally remained in it. I was not troubled +with clients after office hours. + +"I wonder you go such a figure, Leah!" I could not help saying so. + +"It is cleaning-day, Mr. Charles. And I did not know I should have to +come up here. Watts has just gone out." + +"It is a strange thing to me that you cannot get a woman in to help +you. I have said so before." + +"Ah, sir, nobody knows where the shoe pinches but he who wears it." + +With this remark, unintelligible as apropos to the question, and a +deep sigh, Leah withdrew. I had finished dinner, and the tray was +taken away before Mr. Brightman returned. + +"Now I hope Sir Edmund will be punctual," he cried, as we sat +together, talking over a glass of sherry. "It is half-past six: time +he was here." + +"And there he is!" I exclaimed, as a ring and a knock that shook the +house resounded in our ears. After five o'clock the front door was +always closed. + +Watts being out, we heard Leah answer the door in her charming +costume. But clients pay little attention to the attire of laundresses +in chambers. + +"Good heavens! Can Sir Edmund have taken too much!" uttered Mr. +Brightman, halting as he was about to enter the other room to receive +him. Loud sounds in a man's voice arose from the passage; singing, +laughing, joking with Leah. "Open the door, Charles." + +I had already opened it, and saw, not Sir Edmund Clavering, but the +young country client, George Coney, the son of a substantial and +respectable yeoman in Gloucestershire. He appeared to be in exalted +spirits, and had a little exceeded, but was very far from being +intoxicated. + +"What, is Mr. Brightman here? I only expected to see you," cried he, +shaking hands with both. "Look here!" holding out a small canvas bag, +and rattling it. "What does that sound like?" + +"It sounds like gold," said Mr. Brightman. + +"Right, Mr. Brightman; thirty golden sovereigns: and I am as delighted +with them as if they were thirty hundred," said he, opening the bag +and displaying its contents. "Last week I got swindled out of a horse +down at home. Thirty pounds I sold him for, and he and the purchaser +disappeared and forgot to pay. My father went on at me, like our old +mill clacking; not so much for the loss of the thirty pounds, as at my +being done: and all the farmers round about clacked at me, like so +many more mills. Pleasant, that, for a fellow, was it not?" + +"Very," said Mr. Brightman, while I laughed. + +"I did not care to stand it," went on George Coney. "I obtained a bit +of a clue, and the day before yesterday I came up to London--and I +have met with luck. This afternoon I dropped across the very chap, +where I had waited for him since the morning. He was going into a +public-house, and another with him, and I pinned them in the room, +with a policeman outside, and he pretty soon shelled out the thirty +pounds, rather than be taken. That's luck, I hope." He opened the bag +as he spoke, and displayed the gold. + +"Remarkable luck, to get the money," observed Mr. Brightman. + +"I expect they had been in luck themselves," continued young Coney, +"for they had more gold with them, and several notes. They were for +paying me in notes, but 'No, thank ye,' said I, 'I know good gold when +I see it, and I'll take it in that.'" + +"I am glad you have been so fortunate," said Mr. Brightman. "When do +you return home?" + +"I did mean to go to-night, and I called to leave with you this small +deed that my father said I might as well bring up with me, as I was +coming"--producing a thin folded parchment from his capacious +pocketbook. "But I began thinking, as I came along, that I might as +well have a bit of a spree now I am here, and go down by Monday +night's train," added the young man, tying up the bag again, and +slipping it into his pocket. "I shall go to a theatre to-night." + +"Not with that bag of gold about you?" said Mr. Brightman. + +"Why not?" + +"Why not? Because you would have no trace of it left to-morrow +morning." + +George Coney laughed good-humouredly. "I can take care of myself, +sir." + +"Perhaps so; but you can't take care of the gold. Come, hand it over +to me. Your father will thank me for being determined, and you also, +Mr. George, when you have cooled down from the seductions of London." + +"I may want to spend some of it," returned George Coney. "Let's see +how much I have," cried he, turning the loose money out of his +pockets. "Four pounds, seven shillings, and a few halfpence," he +concluded, counting it up. + +"A great deal too much to squander or lose in one night," remarked Mr. +Brightman. "Here," added he, unlocking a deep drawer in his desk, "put +your bag in here, and come for it on Monday." + +George Coney drew the bag from his pocket, but not without a few +remonstrative shakes of the head, and put it in the drawer. Mr. +Brightman locked it, and restored the bunch of keys to his pocket. + +"You are worse than my father is," cried George Coney, half in jest, +half vexed at having yielded. "I wouldn't be as close and stingy for +anything." + +"In telling this story twenty years hence, Mr. George, you will say, +What a simpleton I should have made of myself, if that cautious old +lawyer Brightman had not been close and stingy!" + +George Coney winked at me and laughed. "Perhaps he's right, after +all." + +"I know I am," said Mr. Brightman. "Will you take a glass of sherry?" + +"Well; no, I think I had better not. I have had almost enough already, +and I want to carry clear eyes with me to the play. What time does it +begin?" + +"About seven, I think; but I am not a theatre-goer myself. Strange can +tell you." + +"Then I shall be off," said he, shaking hands with us, as only a +hearty country yeoman knows how to. + +He had scarcely gone when Sir Edmund Clavering's knock was heard. Mr. +Brightman went with him into the front room, and I sat reading the +_Times_. Leah, by the way, had made herself presentable, and looked +tidy enough in a clean white cap and apron. + +Sir Edmund did not stay long: he left about seven. I heard Mr. +Brightman go back after showing him out, and rake the fire out of the +grate--he was always timidly cautious about fire--and then he returned +to my room. + +"No wonder Sir Edmund wanted to see me," cried he. "There's the deuce +of a piece of work down at his place. His cousin wants to dispute the +will and to turn him out. They have been serving notices on the +tenants not to pay the rent." + +"What a curious woman she must be!" + +Mr. Brightman smiled slightly, but made no answer. + +"He did not stay long, sir." + +"No, he is going out to dinner." + +As Mr. Brightman spoke, he turned up the gas, drew his chair to the +desk and sat down, his back then being towards the fire. "I must look +over these letters and copies of notices which Sir Edmund brought +with him, and has left with me," he remarked. "I don't care to go +home directly." + +The next minute he was absorbed in the papers. I put down the _Times_, +and rose. "You do not want me, I suppose, Mr. Brightman," I said. "I +promised Arthur Lake to go to his chambers for an hour." + +"I don't want you, Charles. Mind you are not late in coming down to me +to-morrow morning." + +So I wished him good-night and departed. Arthur Lake, a full-fledged +barrister now of the Middle Temple, rented a couple of rooms in one of +the courts. His papers were in one room, his bed in the other. He was +a steady fellow, as he always had been, working hard and likely to get +on. We passed many of our evenings together over a quiet chat and a +cigar, I going round to him, or he coming in to me. He had grown up a +little, dandified sort of man, good-humouredly insolent as ever when +the fit took him: but sterling at heart. + +Lake was sitting at the fire waiting for me, and began to grumble at +my being late. I mentioned what had hindered me. + +"And I have forgotten my cigar-case!" I exclaimed as I sat down. "I +had filled it, all ready, and left it on the table." + +"Never mind," said Lake. "I laid in a parcel to-day." + +But I did mind, for Lake's "parcels" were never good. He would buy his +cigars so dreadfully strong. Nothing pleased him but those +full-flavoured Lopez, whilst I liked mild Cabanas: so, generally +speaking, I kept to my own. However, I took one, and we sat, talking +and smoking. I smoked it out, abominable though it was, and took +another; but I couldn't stand a second. + +"Lake, I cannot smoke your cigars," I said, flinging it into the fire. +"You know I never can. I must run and fetch my own. There goes eight +o'clock." + +"What's the matter with them?" asked Lake: his usual question. + +"Everything; they are bad all over. I shall be back in a trice." + +I went the quickest way, through the passages, which brought me into +Essex Street, and had my latch-key ready to open the door with as I +approached the house. There were three of these latchkeys. I had one; +Lennard another, for it sometimes happened that he had to come in +before or after business hours; and Leah had possession of the third. +But I had no use for mine now, for the door was open. A policeman, +standing by the area railings, recognised me, and wished me +good-evening. + +'Whose carelessness is this?' thought I, advancing to the top of the +kitchen stairs and calling to Leah. + +It appeared useless to call: no Leah made her appearance. I shut the +front door and went upstairs, wondering whether Mr. Brightman had +left. + +Left! I started back as I entered; for there lay Mr. Brightman on the +floor by his desk, as if he had pushed back his chair and fallen from +it. + +"What is the matter?" I exclaimed, throwing my hat anywhere, and +hastening to raise him. But his head and shoulders were a dead weight +in my arms, and there was an awful look upon his face, as the gaslight +fell upon it. A look, in short, of death, and not of an easy death. + +My pulses beat quicker, man though I was, and my heart beat with them. +Was I alone in that large house with the dead? I let him fall again +and rang the bell violently. I rushed to the door and shouted over the +banisters for Leah; and just as I was leaping down for the policeman I +had seen outside, or any other help that might be at hand, I heard a +latch-key inserted into the lock, and Lennard came in with Dr. +Dickenson. I knew him well, for he had attended Miss Methold in the +days gone by. + +As he hastened to Mr. Brightman, Lennard turned to me, speaking in a +whisper: + +"Mr. Strange, how did it happen? Was he ill?" + +"I know nothing about it, Lennard. I came in a minute ago, and found +him lying here. What do you know? Had you been here before?" + +"I came, as Mr. Brightman had directed," he replied. "It was a little +before eight; and when I got upstairs he was lying there as you see. I +tried to rouse him, but could not, and I went off for the doctor." + +"Did you leave the front door open?" + +"I believe I did, in my flurry and haste. I thought of it as I ran up +the street, but would not lose time in going back to shut it." + +"He is gone, Mr. Strange," said Dr. Dickenson, advancing towards me, +for I and Lennard had stood near the door. "It is a case of sudden +death." + +I sat down, bewildered. I could not believe it. How awfully sudden! +"Is it apoplexy?" I asked, lifting my head. + +"No, I should say not." + +"Then what is it?" + +"I cannot tell; it may be the heart." + +"Are you sure he is dead? Beyond all hope?" + +"He is indeed." + +A disagreeable doubt rushed over my mind, and I spoke on the impulse +of the moment. "Has he come by his death fairly?" + +The surgeon paused before he answered. "I see no reason, as yet, to +infer otherwise. There are no signs of violence about him." + +I cannot describe my feelings as we stood looking down at him. Never +had I felt so before. What was I to do next?--how act? A hazy idea was +making itself heard that some weighty responsibility lay upon me. + +Just then a cab dashed up to the door; we heard it all too plainly in +the hushed silence; and someone knocked and rang. Lennard went down to +open it, and I told him to send in the policeman and fetch another +doctor. Looking over the banisters I saw George Coney come in. + +"Such a downfall to my plans, Mr. Strange," he began, seeing me as he +ascended the stairs. "I went round to my inn to brush myself up before +going to the play, and there I found a letter from my father, which +they had forgotten to give me this morning. Our bailiff's been taken +ill, cannot leave his bed, and father writes that I had better let the +horse and the thirty pounds go for a bad job, and come home, for he +can't have me away longer. So my spree's done for, this time, and I am +on my way to the station, to catch the nine o'clock train." + +"Don't go in until you have heard what is there," I whispered, as he +was entering the room. "Mr. Brightman, whom you left well, is lying on +the floor, and----" + +"And what?" asked young Coney, looking at me. + +"I fear he is dead." + +After a dismayed pause he went gently into the room, taking off his +hat reverently and treading on tiptoe. "Poor fellow! poor gentleman!" +he uttered, after looking at him. "What an awful thing! How was he +taken?" + +"We do not know how. He was alone." + +"What, alone when he was taken! no one to help him!" returned the +young man. "That was hard! What has he died of?" + +"Probably the heart," interposed Dr. Dickenson. + +"Last summer a carter of ours fell down as he was standing near us; my +father was giving him directions about a load of hay, and when we +picked him up he was dead," spoke the young man. "That was the heart, +they said. But he looked calm and quiet, not as Mr. Brightman looks. +He left seven children, poor chap!" + +At that juncture Mr. Lennard returned with the policeman. Another +doctor, he said, would be round directly. After some general +conversation, George Coney looked at his watch. + +"Mr. Strange, my time's up. Would it be convenient to give me that +money again? I should like to take it down with me, you see, just to +have the laugh against the old folks at home." + +"I will give it you," I said. + +But for the very life of me, I could not put my hand into the dead +man's pocket. I beckoned to Lennard. "Can you take out his keys?" + +"Let me do it," said Dr. Dickenson, for Lennard did not seem to relish +the task either. "I am more accustomed to death than you are. Which +pocket are they in?" + +"The right-hand pocket of his trousers; he always kept them there," +was my answer. + +Dr. Dickenson found the keys and handed them to me. I unlocked the +drawer, being obliged to bend over the dead to do so, and young Coney +stepped forward to receive the bag. + +But the bag was not there. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LEAH'S STORY. + + +Our dismayed faces might have formed a study for a painter, as we +stood in my room in Essex Street: the doctor, George Coney, Lennard +and myself. On the floor, between the hearthrug and the desk, lay the +dead man, the blaze of the fire and the gaslights playing on his +features. Mr. Brightman was dead. In my mental pain and emotion I +could not realize the fact; would not believe that it was true. He had +died thus suddenly, no one near him; no one, so far as was yet known, +in the house at the time. And to me, at least, there seemed to be some +mystery attaching to it. + +But, at this particular moment, we were looking for George Coney's +sovereigns, which Mr. Brightman, not much more than an hour before, +had locked up in the deep drawer of his desk, returning the keys to +his pocket. After Dr. Dickenson had handed me the keys I unlocked and +opened the drawer. But the bag was not there. + +If the desk itself had disappeared, I could not have been more +surprised. Lying in the drawer, close to where the bag had been, was a +gold watch belonging to Mrs. Brightman, which had been brought up to +town to be cleaned. That was undisturbed. "Coney," I exclaimed, "the +money is not here." + +"It was put there," replied young Coney. "Next to that watch." + +"I know it was," I answered. I opened the drawer on the other side, +but that was full of papers. I looked about on the desk; then on my +own desk, even unlocking the drawers, though I had had the key in my +own pocket; then on the tables and mantelpiece. Not a trace could I +see of the canvas bag. + +"What bag is it?" inquired Dr. Dickenson, who, of course, had known +nothing of this. "What was in it?" + +"A small canvas bag containing some gold that Mr. George Coney had +wished to leave here until Monday," I answered. + +"'Twas one of our sample barley bags; I happened to have it in my +pocket when I left home," explained the young man. "My father's +initials were on it: S. C." + +"How much was in it?" asked Lennard. + +"Thirty pounds." + +"I fear you will be obliged to go without it, after all," I said, when +I had turned everything over, "for it is not to be found. I will remit +you thirty pounds on Monday. We send our spare cash to the bank on +Saturday afternoons, so that I have not so much in the house: and I +really do not know where Mr. Brightman has put the cheque-book. It is +strange that he should have taken the bag out of the drawer again." + +"Perhaps it may be in one of his pockets," suggested the doctor. +"Shall I search them?" + +"No, no," interposed George Coney. "I wouldn't have the poor gentleman +disturbed just for that. You'll remit it to me, Mr. Strange. Not to my +father," he added, with a smile: "to me." + +I went down with him, and there sat Leah at the bottom of the stairs, +leaning her head against the banisters, almost under the hall lamp. +"When did you come in, Leah?" I asked. + +She rose hastily, and faced me. "I thought you were out, sir. I have +come in only this instant." + +"What is the matter?" I continued, struck with the white, strange look +upon her face. "Are you ill?" + +"No, sir, not ill. Trouble is the lot of us all." + +I shook hands with George Coney as he got into his cab and departed, +and then returned indoors. Leah was hastening along the passage to +the kitchen stairs. I called her back again. "Leah," I said, "do you +know what has happened to Mr. Brightman?" + +"No, sir," answered she. "What has happened to him?" + +"You must prepare for a shock. He is dead." + +She had a cloth and a plate in her hand, and laid them down on the +slab as she backed against the wall, staring in horror. Then her +features relaxed into a wan smile. + +"Ah, Master Charles, you are thinking to be a boy again to-night, and +are playing a trick upon me, as you used to do in the old days, sir." + +"I wish to my heart it was so, Leah. Mr. Brightman is lying upon the +floor in my room. I fear there can be no doubt that he is dead." + +"My poor master!" she slowly ejaculated. "Heaven have mercy upon +him!--and upon us! Why, it's not more than three-quarters of an hour +since I took up some water to him." + +"Did he ask for it?" + +"He rang the bell, sir, and asked for a decanter of water and a +tumbler." + +"How did he look then, Leah? Where was he sitting?" + +"He was sitting at his table, sir, and he looked as usual, for all I +saw, but his head was bent over something he was reading. I put some +coals on the fire and came away. Mr. Charles, who is up there with +him?" + +"Dr. Dickenson and----" + +A knock at the door interrupted me. It proved to be the other doctor I +had sent for. + +The medical men proceeded to examine Mr. Brightman more closely. I had +sent for the police, and they also were present. I then searched his +pockets, a policeman aiding me, and we put their contents carefully +away. But there was no bag containing gold amongst them. How had it +disappeared? + +A most unhappy circumstance was the fact that I could not send for +Mrs. Brightman, for I did not know where she was. Mr. Brightman had +said she was out of town, but did not say where. + +When Watts came home, I despatched him to the house at Clapham, +allowing him no time to indulge his grief or his curiosity. Leah had +knelt down by Mr. Brightman, tears silently streaming from her eyes. + +The fire in the front room was relighted; the fire, the very coals, +which he, poor man, had so recently taken off; and I, Lennard and +Arthur Lake went in there to talk the matter over quietly. + +"Lennard," I said, "I am not satisfied that he has died a natural +death. I hope----" + +"There are no grounds for any other supposition, Mr. Strange," he +interrupted. "None whatever. _Are_ there?" he added, looking at me. + +"I trust there are none--but I don't quite like the attendant +circumstances of the case. The loss of that bag of money causes all +sorts of unpleasant suspicions to arise. When you came to the house, +Lennard, did you go straight upstairs?" I added, after a pause. + +"No, I went into the front office," replied Lennard. "I thought Sir +Edmund Clavering might still be here." + +"Was Leah out or in?" + +"Leah was standing at the front door, looking--as it seemed to +me--down the steps leading to the Thames. While I was lighting my +candle by the hall-lamp, she shut the front door and came to me. She +was extremely agitated, and----" + +"Agitated?" I interrupted. + +"Yes," said Lennard; "I could not be mistaken. I stared at her, +wondering what could cause it, and why her face was so white--almost +as white as Mr. Brightman's is now. She asked--as earnestly as if she +were pleading for life--whether I would stop in the house for a few +minutes, as Mr. Brightman had not gone, while she ran out upon an +errand. I inquired whether Sir Edmund Clavering was upstairs, and she +said no; he had left; Mr. Strange was out, and Mr. Brightman was +alone." + +"Did she go out?" + +"Immediately," replied Lennard; "just as she was, without bonnet or +shawl. I went up to your room, and tapped at the door. It was not +answered, and I went in. At first I thought the room was empty; but in +a moment I saw Mr. Brightman lying on the ground. He was dead even +then; I am certain of it," added Lennard, pausing from natural +emotion. "I raised his head, and put a little water to his temples, +but I saw that he was dead." + +"It is an awful thing!" exclaimed Lake. + +"I can tell you that I thought so," assented Lennard. "I knew that the +first thing must be to get in a doctor; but how I found my way up the +street to Dickenson's I hardly remember. No wonder I left the front +door open behind me." + +I turned all this over in my mind. There were two points I did not +like--Leah's agitation, and Lennard's carelessness in leaving the door +open. I called in one of the policemen from the other room, for they +were there still, with the medical men. + +"Williams," I began, "you saw me come down the street with my latch-key +in my hand?" + +"I did, sir, and wished you good-evening," replied Williams. "It +wasn't long after the other gentleman," indicating Lennard, "had run +out." + +"I did not see you," cried Lennard, looking at him. "I wish I had seen +you. I wanted help, and there was not a soul in the street." + +"I was standing in shadow, at the top of the steps leading to the +water," said the man. "You came out, sir, all in a hurry, and went +rushing up the street, leaving the door open." + +"And it is that door's having been left open that I don't like," I +observed. "If this money does not turn up, I can only think some rogue +got in and took it." + +"Nobody got in, sir," said the policeman. "I had my eye on the door +the whole time till you came down. To see two folk running like mad +out of a quiet and respectable house roused my suspicions; and I went +up to the door and stood near it till you entered." + +"How did you see two running out of it?" I inquired. "There was only +Mr. Lennard." + +"I had seen somebody before that--a woman," replied the officer. "She +came out, and went tearing down the steps towards the river, calling +to someone out of sight. I think it was your servant, Mrs. Watts, but +I was only half-way down the street then, and she was too quick for +me." + +"Then you are quite sure no one entered?" + +"Quite sure, sir. I never moved from the door." + +"Setting aside Williams's testimony, there was scarcely time for +anyone to get in and do mischief," observed Lake. "And no one could +take that gold without first getting the keys out of Mr. Brightman's +pocket," he rejoined. "For such a purpose, who would dare rifle the +pockets of the dead?" + +"And then replace the keys," added Lennard. + +"Besides," I said impulsively, "no one knew the money was there. Mr. +Brightman, myself, and George Coney were alone cognisant of the fact. +The more one thinks of it, the stranger it seems to grow." + +The moments passed. The doctors and the police had gone away, and +nothing remained but the sad burden in the next room. Lennard also +left me to go home, for there was nothing more to be done; and Arthur +Lake, who had gone round to his rooms, came in again. His conscience +was smiting him, he said, for having deserted me. We sat down in the +front room, as before, and began to discuss the mystery. I remarked, +to begin with, that there existed not the slightest loophole of +suspicion to guide us. + +"Except one," said Lake quietly. "And I may pain you, Charley, if I +venture to suggest it." + +"Nonsense!" I cried. "How could it pain me? Unless you think I took it +myself!" + +"I fancy it was Leah." + +"Leah?" + +"Well, I do. She was the only person in the house, except Mr. +Brightman. And what did her agitation mean--the agitation Lennard has +referred to?" + +"No, no, Arthur; it could not have been Leah. Admitting the doubt for +a moment, how could she have done it?" + +"Only in this way. I have been arguing it out with myself in my rooms: +and of course it may be all imagination. Leah took up some water, she +says, that Mr. Brightman rang for. Now, it may be that he had the +drawer open and she saw the money. Or it may even be that, for some +purpose or other, he had the bag upon the table. Was he taken ill +whilst she was in the room? and did she, overcome by temptation, steal +the money? I confess that this possibility presents itself forcibly to +me," concluded Lake. "Naturally she would afterwards be in a state of +agitation." + +I sat revolving what he said, but could not bring my mind to admit +it. Circumstances--especially her agitation--might seem to tell +against her, but I believed the woman to be honest as the day. + +There is not the slightest doubt that almost every man born into the +world is adapted for one especial calling over all others; and it is +an unhappy fact that this peculiar tendency is very rarely discovered +and followed up. It is the misdirection of talent which causes so many +of the failures in life. In my own case this mistake had not occurred. +I believe that of all pursuits common to man, I was by nature most +fitted for that of a solicitor. At the Bar, as a pleader, I should +have failed, and ruined half the clients who entrusted me with briefs. +But for penetration, for seizing without effort the different points +of a case laid before me, few equalled me. I mention this only because +it is a fact: not from motives of self-praise and vanity. Vanity? I am +only thankful that my talents were directed into their proper channel. +And this judgment, exercised now, told me that Leah was not guilty. I +said so to Arthur Lake. + +The return of Watts interrupted us. He had brought back with him Mr. +Brightman's butler, Perry--a respectable, trustworthy man, who had +been long in the family. I shall never forget his emotion as he stood +over his dead master, to whom he was much attached. Mrs. and Miss +Brightman had gone to Hastings for two or three days, he said, and I +determined to go there in the morning and break the sad tidings to +them. + +Sad tidings, indeed; a grievous calamity for us all. That night I +could not sleep, and in the morning I rose unrefreshed. The doubt +about Leah and the money also troubled me. Though in one sense +convinced that she could not have done it, the possibility that she +might be guilty kept presenting itself before me. + +She came into the room while I was at breakfast--earlier than I need +have been, so far as the train was concerned--and I detained her for a +moment. + +Very spruce and neat she looked this morning. + +"Leah," I began, "there is an unpleasant mystery attending this +affair." + +"As to what Mr. Brightman has died of, sir?" + +"I do not allude to that. But there is some money missing." + +"Money!" echoed Leah, in what looked like genuine surprise. + +"Last night, after Mr. Brightman came in from dinner, he put a small +canvas bag, containing thirty pounds in gold, in the deep drawer of +his desk in my room, locked it and put the keys in his pocket. I had +occasion to look for that gold immediately after he was found dead, +and it was gone." + +"Bag and all?" said Leah, after a pause. + +"Bag and all." + +"Not stolen, surely?" + +"I don't see how else it can have disappeared. It could not go without +hands; and the question is, did anyone get into the house and take +it?" + +She looked at me, and I at her: she was apparently thinking. "But how +could anyone get in, sir?" she asked in tones of remonstrance. + +"I do not see how, unless it was when you went out, Leah. You were out +some time, you know. You ran out of the house and down the steps +leading to the river, and you were in great agitation. What did it +mean?" + +Leah threw up her hands in distress. "Oh, Mr. Charles!" she gasped. +"Please don't question me, sir. I cannot tell you anything about +that." + +"I must know it, Leah." + +She shook her head. Her tears had begun to fall. + +"Indeed you must explain it to me," I continued, speaking gently. +"There is no help for it. Don't you see that this will have to be +investigated, and----" + +"You never suspect me of taking the money, sir?" she exclaimed +breathlessly. + +"No, I do not," I replied firmly. "It is one thing to be sure of +honesty, and quite another thing to wish mysterious circumstances +cleared up, where the necessity for doing so exists. What was your +mystery last night, Leah?" + +"Must I tell you, sir?" + +"Indeed you must. I dare say to tell it will not hurt you, or to hear +it hurt me." + +"I would die rather than Watts should know of it," she exclaimed, in +low, impassioned tones, glancing towards the door. + +"Watts is in the kitchen, Leah, and cannot hear you. Speak out." + +"I never committed but one grave fault in my life," she began, "and +that was telling a deliberate lie. The consequences have clung to me +ever since, and if things go on as they are going on now, they'll just +drive me into the churchyard. When I lived with your people I was a +young widow, as you may remember, sir; but perhaps you did not know +that I had a little child. Your mamma knew it, but I don't think the +servants did, for I was never one to talk of my own affairs. Just +your age, Master Charles, was my little Nancy, and when her father +died his sister took to her; old Miss Williams--for she was a deal +older than him. She had a bit of a farm in Dorsetshire, and I'm afraid +Nancy had to work hard at it. But it failed after a time, and Miss +Williams died; and Nancy, then about seventeen, had come, I heard, to +London. I was at Dover then, not long returned from abroad, and was +just married to James Watts; and I found--I found," Leah dropped her +voice, "that Nancy had gone wrong. Someone had turned her brain with +his vows and his promises, and she had come up to London with him." + +"Why don't you sit down whilst you talk, Leah?" + +"I had told Watts I had no children," she continued, disregarding my +injunction. "And that was the lie, Mr. Charles. More than once he had +said in my hearing that he would never marry a ready-made family. For +very shame I could not tell him, when I found how things were with +Nancy. After we came to London, I searched her out and went to her in +secret, begging her to leave the man, but she would not." + +A burst of emotion stopped Leah. She soon resumed: + +"She would not leave him. In spite of all I could say or do, though I +went down on my knees to her, and sobbed and prayed my heart out, she +remained with him. And she is with him still." + +"All this time?" + +"All this time, sir; seven years. He was once superior to her in +position, but he has fallen from it now, is unsteady, and drinks half +his time away. Sometimes he is in work; oftener without it; and the +misery and privation she goes through no tongue can tell. He beats +her, abuses her----" + +"Why does she not leave him?" + +"Ah, sir, why don't we do many things that we ought? Partly because +she's afraid he would keep the children. There are three of them. Many +a time she would have died of hunger but for me. I help her all I +can; she's my own child. Sir, you asked me, only yesterday, why I went +shabby; but, instead of buying clothes for myself, I scrape and save +to keep her poor body and soul together. I go without food to take it +to her; many a day I put my dinner away, telling Watts I don't feel +inclined for it then and will eat it by-and-by. He thinks I do so. She +does not beg of me; she has never entered this house; she has never +told that tyrant of hers that I am her mother. 'Mother,' she has said +to me, 'never fear. I would rather die than bring trouble on you.'" + +"But about last night?" I interrupted. + +"I was at work in the kitchen when a little gravel was thrown against +the window. I guessed who it was, and went up to the door. If Watts +had been at home, I should have taken no notice, but just have said, +'Drat those street boys again!' or something of that sort. There she +was, leaning against the opposite railings, and she crossed over when +she saw me. She said she was beside herself with misery and trouble, +and I believe she was. He had been beating her, and she had not tasted +food since the previous day; not a crumb. She kept looking towards the +steps leading to the Thames, and I thought she might have got it in +her head, what with her weak condition of body and her misery of mind, +to put an end to herself. I tried, sir, to soothe and reason with her; +what else could I do? I said I would fetch her some food, and give her +sevenpence to buy a loaf to take home to her children." + +"Where does she live?" I interposed. + +"In this parish, St. Clement Danes; and there are some parts of this +parish, you know, sir, as bad as any in London. When I offered to +fetch her food, she said, No, she would not take it; her life was too +wretched to bear, and she should end it; she had come out to do so. It +was just what I feared. I scolded her. I told her to stay there at the +door, and I shut it and ran down for the food. But when I got back to +the door, I couldn't see her anywhere. Then I heard a voice from the +steps call out 'Good-bye!' and I knew she was going to the water. At +that moment Mr. Lennard came up, and I asked him to remain in the +house whilst I went out for a minute. I was almost frightened out of +my senses." + +"Did you find her?" + +"I found her, sir, looking down at the river. I reasoned her into a +little better mood, and she ate a little of the food, and I brought +her back up the steps, gave her the sevenpence, and led her up the +street and across the Strand, on her way home. And that's the whole +truth, Mr. Charles, of what took me out last night; and I declare I +know no more of the missing money than a babe unborn. I had just come +back with the empty plate and cloth when you saw me sitting on the +stairs." + +The whole truth I felt sure it was. Every word, every look of Leah's +proclaimed it. + +"And that's my sad secret," she added; "one I have to bear about with +me at all times, in my work and out of my work. Watts is a good +husband to me, but he prides himself on his respectability, and I +wouldn't have him know that I have deceived him for the universe. I +wouldn't have him know that _she_, being what she is, was my daughter. +He said he'd treat me to Ashley's Circus last winter, and gave me two +shillings, and I pretended to go. But I gave it to her, poor thing, +and walked about in the cold, looking at the late shops, till it was +time to come home. Watts asked me what I had seen, and I told him such +marvels that he said he'd go the next night himself, for he had never +heard the like, and he supposed it must be a benefit night. You will +not tell him my secret, sir?" + +"No, Leah, I will not tell him. It is safe with me." + +With a long drawn sigh she turned to leave the room. But I stopped +her. + +"A moment yet, Leah. Can you remember at what time you took up the +water to Mr. Brightman?" + +"It was some time before the stone came to the window. About ten +minutes, maybe, sir, after you went out. I heard you come downstairs +whistling, and go out." + +"No one came to the house during my absence?" + +"No one at all, sir." + +"Did you notice whether Mr. Brightman had either of the drawers of his +desk open when you took up the water?" + +Leah shook her head. "I can't say, sir," she answered. "I did not +notice one way or the other." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +LADY CLAVERING. + + +The people were coming out of the various churches when I reached +Hastings. Going straight to the Queen's Hotel, I asked for Mrs. +Brightman. Perry had said she was staying there. It was, I believe, +the only good hotel in the place in those days. Hatch, Mrs. +Brightman's maid, came to me at once. Her mistress was not yet up, she +said, having a bad headache. + +Hatch and I had become quite confidential friends during these past +years. She was not a whit altered since I first saw her, and to me did +not look a day older. The flaming ringlets adorned her face as usual, +and sky-blue cap-strings flowed behind them this morning. Hatch was +glaringly plain; Hatch had a wonderful tongue, and was ever ready to +exercise it, and Hatch's diction and grammar were unique; +nevertheless, you could not help liking Hatch. + +But to hear that Mrs. Brightman was ill in bed rather checkmated me. I +really did not know what to do. + +"My business with your mistress is of very great importance, Hatch," I +observed. "I ought to see her. I have come down on purpose to see +her." + +"You might see her this afternoon, Mr. Charles; not before," spoke +Hatch decisively. "These headaches is uncommon bad while they last. +Perhaps Miss Annabel would do? She is not here, though; but is staying +with her aunt Lucy." + +"I have brought down bad news, Hatch. I should not like Miss Annabel +to be the first to hear it." + +"Bad news!" repeated Hatch quickly, as she stared at me with her +great green eyes. "Our house ain't burnt down, surely! Is that the +news, sir?" + +"Worse than that, Hatch. It concerns Mr. Brightman." + +Hatch's manner changed in a moment. Her voice became timid. "For +goodness' sake, Mr. Charles! he is not ill, is he?" + +"Worse, Hatch. He is dead," I whispered. + +Hatch backed to a chair and dropped into it: we were in Mrs. +Brightman's sitting-room. "The Lord be good to us!" she exclaimed, in +all reverence. Her red cheeks turned white, her eloquence for once +deserted her. + +I sat down and gave her the details in a few brief words: she was a +confidential, trusted servant, and had lived with her mistress many +years. It affected her even more than I had expected. She wrung her +hands, her tears coursed freely. + +"My poor master--my poor mistress!" she exclaimed. "What on +earth--Mr. Charles, is it _sure_ he is dead? quite dead?" she broke +off to ask. + +"Nay, Hatch, I have told you." + +Presently she got up, and seemed to rally her courage. "Anyway, Mr. +Charles, we shall have to meet this, and deal with it as we best may. +I mean the family, sir, what's left of 'em. And missis must be +told--and, pardon me, sir, but I think I'd best be the one to tell +her. She is so used to me, you see," added Hatch, looking at me +keenly. "She might take it better from me than from you; that is, it +might seem less hard." + +"Indeed, I should be only too glad to be spared the task," was my +answer. + +"But you must tell Miss Brightman, sir, and Miss Annabel. Perhaps if +you were to go now, Mr. Charles, while I do the best I can with my +missis, we might be ready for the afternoon train. That, you say, will +be best to travel by----" + +"I said the train would be the best of the trains to-day, Hatch. It is +for Mrs. Brightman to consider whether she will go up to-day or +to-morrow." + +"Well, yes, Mr. Charles, that's what I mean. My head's almost +moithered. But I think she is sure to go up to-day." + +Miss Brightman, who was Mr. Brightman's only sister, lived in a +handsome house facing the sea. Annabel visited her a good deal, +staying with her sometimes for weeks together. Mr. Brightman had +sanctioned it, Mrs. Brightman did not object to it. + +Upon reaching the house, the footman said Miss Brightman was not yet +in from church, and ushered me into the drawing-room. Annabel was +there. And really, like Hatch, she was not much altered, except in +height and years, since the day I first saw her, when she had +chattered to me so freely and lent me her favourite book, "The Old +English Baron." She was fourteen then: a graceful, pretty child, with +charming manners; her dark brown eyes, sweet and tender and bright +like her father's, her features delicately carved like her mother's, +a rose-blush on her dimpled cheeks. She was twenty now, and a +graceful, pretty woman. No, not one whit altered. + +She was standing by the fire in her silk attire, just as she had come +in from church, only her bonnet-strings untied. Bonnets were really +bonnets then, and rendered a lovely face all the more attractive. +Annabel's bonnet that day was pink, and its border intermingled, as it +seemed, with the waves of her soft brown hair. She quite started with +surprise. + +"Is it _you_, Charley!" she exclaimed, coming forward, the sweet +rose-blush deepening and the sweet eyes brightening. "Have you come to +Hastings? Is papa with you?" + +"No, Annabel, he is not with me," I answered gravely, as I clasped her +hand. "I wanted to see Miss Brightman." + +"She will be here directly. She called in to see old Mrs. Day, who is +ill: a great friend of Aunt Lucy's. Did papa----" + +But we were interrupted by the return of Miss Brightman, a small, +fragile woman, with delicate lungs. Annabel left us together. + +How I accomplished my unhappy task I hardly knew. How Miss Brightman +subsequently imparted it to Annabel I did not know at all. It must be +enough to say that we went to London by an afternoon train, bearing +our weight of care. All, except Miss Brightman. Hatch travelled in the +carriage with us. + +In appearance, at any rate, the news had most affected Mrs. Brightman. +Her frame trembled, her pale face and restless hands twitched with +nervousness. Of course, her headache went for something. + +"I have them so very badly," she moaned to me once during the journey. +"They unfit me for everything." + +And, indeed, these headaches of Mrs. Brightman's were nothing new to +me. She had always suffered from them. But of late, that is to say +during the past few months, when by chance I went to Clapham, I more +often than not found her ill and invisible from this distressing pain. +My intimacy with Mrs. Brightman had not made much progress. The same +proud, haughty woman she was when I first saw her, she had remained. +Coldly civil to me, as to others; and that was all that could be said. + +When about half-way up, whilst waiting for an express to pass, or +something of that sort, and we were for some minutes at a standstill, +I told Mrs. Brightman about the missing money belonging to George +Coney. + +"It is of little consequence if it be lost," was her indifferent and +no doubt thoughtless comment. "What is thirty pounds?" + +Little, I knew, to a firm like ours, but the uncertainty it left us in +was a great deal. "Setting aside the mystery attaching to the loss," I +remarked, "there remains a suspicion that we may have a thief about +us; and that is not a pleasant feeling. Other things may go next." + +Upon reaching London we drove to Essex Street. What a painful visit +it was! Even now I cannot bear to think of it. Poor Mrs. Brightman +grew nervously excited. As she looked down upon him, in his +death-stillness, I thought she would have wept her heart away. Annabel +strove to be calm for her mother's sake. + +After some tea, which Leah and Hatch brought up to us, I saw them +safely to Clapham, and then returned home. + + * * * * * + +Monday morning rose, and its work with it: the immediate work +connected with our painful loss, and the future work that was to fall +upon me. The chief weight and responsibility of the business had +hitherto been his share; now it must be all mine. In the course of the +day I sent a cheque to George Coney. + +An inquest had to be held, and took place early on Tuesday morning. +Mr. Brightman's death was proved, beyond doubt, to have occurred from +natural causes, though not from disease of the heart. He had died by +the visitation of God. But for the disappearance of the money, my +thoughts would never have dwelt on any other issue. + +After it was over, Lennard was standing with me in the front-room, +from which the jury had just gone out, when we fell to talking about +the missing money and its unaccountable loss. It lay heavily upon my +mind. Fathom it I could not, turn it about as I would. Edgar Lennard +was above suspicion, and he was the only one, so far as he and I knew, +who had been in the room after the bag was put there, Leah excepted. +Of her I felt equally certain. Lennard began saying how heartily he +wished he had not been told to come back that night; but I requested +him to be at ease, for he had quite as much reason to suspect me, as I +him. + +"Not quite," answered he, smiling; "considering that you had to make +it good." + +"Well, Lennard, I dare say the mystery will be solved some time or +other. Robberies, like murders, generally come out. The worst is, we +cannot feel assured that other losses may not follow." + +"Not they," returned Lennard, too confidently. "This one has been +enough for us." + +"Did it ever strike you, Lennard, that Mr. Brightman had been in +failing health lately?" + +"Often," emphatically spoke Lennard. "I think he had something on his +mind." + +"On his mind? I should say it was on his health. There were times when +he seemed to have neither energy nor spirits for anything. You don't +know how much business he has of late left to me that he used to do +himself." + +"Well," contended Lennard, "it used to strike me he was not at ease; +that something or other was troubling him." + +"Yes, and now that this fatal termination has ensued, we see that the +trouble may have been health," I maintained. "Possibly he knew that +something was dangerously wrong with him." + +"Possibly so," conceded Lennard. + +He was leaving the room for his own, when a clerk met him and said +that Sir Edmund Clavering was asking for Mr. Strange. I bade him show +up Sir Edmund. + +Mr. Brightman had for years been confidential solicitor to Sir Ralph +Clavering, a physician, whose baronetcy was a new one. When Sir Ralph +gave up practice, and retired to an estate he bought in the country, a +Mrs. Clavering, a widow, whose husband had been a distant cousin of +Sir Ralph's, entered it with him as his companion and housekeeper. It +ended in his marrying her, as these companionships so often end, +especially where the man is old, and the woman young, attractive and +wily. Mrs. Clavering was poor, and no doubt played for the stake she +won. The heir-presumptive to Sir Ralph's title was his nephew, Edmund +Clavering, but his fortune he could leave to whom he would. + +Sir Ralph Clavering died--only about ten days before Mr. Brightman's +own death. The funeral took place on the Tuesday--this very day week +of which I am writing. After attending it, Mr. Brightman returned to +the office in the evening. The clerks had left, and he came up to my +room. + +"Take this off my hat, will you, Charles?" he said. "I can't go home +in it, of course: and Mrs. Brightman had a superstition against +hat-scarves going into the house." + +I undid the black silk and laid it on the table. "What am I to do with +it, sir?" + +"Anything. Give it to Leah for a Sunday apron. My lady treated us to a +specimen of her temper when the will was read," he added. "She +expected to inherit all, and is not satisfied with the competency left +to her." + +"Who does inherit?" I asked: for Mr. Brightman had never enlightened +me, although I knew that he had made Sir Ralph's will. + +"Edmund Clavering. And quite right that he should do so: the estate +ought to go with the title. Besides, setting aside that consideration, +Sir Edmund is entitled to it quite as much as my lady. More so, I +think. There's the will, Charles; you can read it." + +I glanced over the will, which Mr. Brightman had brought back with +him. Lady Clavering had certainly a competency, but the bulk of the +property was left to Sir Edmund, the inheritor of the title. I was +very much surprised. + +"I thought she would have had it all, Mr. Brightman. Living estranged +as Sir Ralph did from his brother, even refusing to be reconciled when +the latter was dying, the estrangement extended to the son, Edmund, I +certainly thought Lady Clavering would have come in for all. You +thought so too, sir." + +"I did, until I made the will. And at one time it was Sir Ralph's +intention to leave most of it to her. But for certain reasons which +arose, he altered his plans. Sufficient reasons," added Mr. Brightman, +in a marked, emphatic manner. "He imparted them to me when he gave +instructions for his will. _I_ should have left her less." + +"May I know them?" + +"No, Charles. They were told to me in confidence, and they concern +neither you nor me. Is the gas out in the next room?" + +"Yes. Shall I light it?" + +"It is not worth while. That hand-lamp of yours will do. I only want +to put up the will." + +I took the lamp, and lighted Mr. Brightman into the front room, his +own exclusively. He opened the iron safe, and there deposited Sir +Ralph Clavering's will, to be left there until it should be proved. + +That is sufficient explanation for the present. Sir Edmund Clavering, +shown up by Lennard himself, came into the room. I had never acted for +him; Mr. Brightman had invariably done so. + +"Can you carry my business through, Mr. Strange?" he asked, after +expressing his shock and regret at Mr. Brightman's sudden fate. + +"I hope so. Why not, Sir Edmund?" + +"You have not Mr. Brightman's legal knowledge and experience." + +"Not his experience, certainly; because he was an old man and I am a +young one. But, as far as practice goes, I have for some time had +chief control of the business. Mr. Brightman almost confined himself +to seeing clients. You may trust me, Sir Edmund." + +"Oh yes, I dare say it will be all right," he rejoined. "Do you know +that Lady Clavering and her cousin John--my cousin also--mean to +dispute the will?" + +"Upon what grounds?" + +"Upon Sir Ralph's incompetency to make one, I suppose--as foul a plea +as ever false woman or man invented. Mr. Brightman can prove---- Good +heavens! every moment I forget that he is dead," broke off Sir Edmund. +"How unfortunate that he should have gone just now!" + +"But there cannot fail to be ample proof of Sir Ralph's competency. +The servants about him must know that he was of sane and healthy +mind." + +"I don't know what her schemes may be," rejoined Sir Edmund; "but I do +know that she will not leave a stone unturned to wrest my rights from +me. I am more bitter than gall and wormwood to her." + +"Because you have inherited most of the money." + +"Ay, for one thing. But there's another reason, more galling to her +even than that." + +Sir Edmund looked at me with a peculiar expression. He was about my +own age, and would have been an exceedingly pleasant man but for his +pride. When he could so far forget that as to throw it off, he was +warm and cordial. + +"Her ladyship is a scheming woman, Mr. Strange. She flung off into a +fit of resentment at first, which Mr. Brightman witnessed, but very +shortly her tactics changed. Before Sir Ralph had been three days in +his grave, she contrived to intimate to me that we had better join +interests. Do you understand?" + +I did not know whether to understand or not. It was inconceivable. + +"And I feel ashamed to enlighten you," said Sir Edmund passionately. +"She offered herself to me; my willing wife. 'If you will wed no other +woman, I will wed no other man----' How runs the old ballad? +Not in so many words, but in terms sufficiently plain to be +deciphered. I answered as plainly, and declined. Declined to join +interests--declined _her_--and so made her my mortal enemy for ever. +Do you know her?" + +"I never saw her." + +"Take care of yourself, then, should you be brought into contact with +her," laughed Sir Edmund. "She is a Jezebel. All the same, she is one +of the most fascinating of women: irresistibly so, no doubt, to many +people. Had she been any but my uncle's wife--widow--I don't know how +it might have gone with me. By the way, Mr. Strange, did Mr. Brightman +impart to you Sir Ralph's reason for devising his property to me? He +had always said, you know, that he would not do it. Mr. Brightman +would not tell me the reason for the change." + +"No, he did not. Sir Ralph intended, I believe, to bequeath most of it +to his wife, and altered his mind quite suddenly. So much Mr. +Brightman told me." + +"Found out Jezebel, perhaps, at some trick or other." + +That I thought all too likely; but did not say so. Sir Edmund +continued to speak a little longer upon business matters, and then +rose. + +"The will had better be proved without delay," he paused to say. + +"I will see about it the first thing next week, Sir Edmund. It would +have been done this week but for Mr. Brightman's unexpected death." + +"Why do you sink your voice to a whisper?" asked Sir Edmund, as we +were quitting the room. "Do you fear eavesdroppers?" + +I was not conscious that I had sunk it, until recalled to the fact. +"Every time I approach this door," I said, pointing to the one opening +into the other room, "I feel as if I were in the presence of the dead. +He is still lying there." + +"What--Mr. Brightman?" + +"It is where he died. He will be removed to his late residence +to-night." + +"I think I will see him," cried Sir Edmund, laying his hand on the +door. + +"As you please. I would not advise you." And he apparently thought +better of it, and went down. + +I had to attend the Vice-Chancellor's Court; law business goes on +without respect to the dead. Upon my return in the afternoon, I was in +the front office, speaking to Lennard, when a carriage drove down the +street, and stopped at the door. Our blinds were down, but one of the +clerks peeped out. "A gentleman's chariot, painted black," he +announced: "the servants in deep mourning." + +Allen went out and brought back a card. "The lady wishes to see you, +sir." + +I cast my eyes on it--"Lady Clavering." And an involuntary smile +crossed my face, at the remembrance of Sir Edmund's caution, should I +ever be brought into contact with her. But what could Lady Clavering +want with me? + +She was conducted upstairs, and I followed, leaving my business with +Lennard until afterwards. She was already seated in the very chair +that, not two hours ago, had held her opponent, Sir Edmund: a very +handsome woman, dressed as coquettishly as her widow's weeds allowed. +Her face was beautiful as to form and colouring, but its free and vain +expression spoiled it. Every glance of her coal-black eye, every +movement of her head and hands, every word that fell from her lips, +was a purposed display of her charms, a demand for admiration. Sir +Edmund need not have cautioned me to keep heart-whole. One so vain and +foolish would repel rather than attract me, even though gifted with +beauty rarely accorded to woman. A Jezebel? Yes, I agreed with him--a +very Jezebel. + +"I have the honour of speaking to Mr. Strange? Charles Strange, as I +have heard Mr. Brightman call you," she said, with a smile of +fascination. + +"Yes, I am Charles Strange. What can I do for you, madam?" + +"Will you promise to do what I have come to ask you?" + +The more she spoke, the less I liked her. I am naturally frank in +manner, but I grew reserved with her. "I cannot make a promise without +knowing its nature, Lady Clavering." + +She picked up her long jet chain, and twirled it about in her fingers. +"What a frightfully sudden death Mr. Brightman's has been!" she +resumed. "Did he lie ill at all?" + +"No. He died suddenly, as he was sitting at his desk. And to render it +still more painful, no one was with him." + +"I read the account in this morning's paper, and came up at once to +see you," resumed Lady Clavering. "He was my husband's confidential +adviser. Were you in his confidence also?" + +I presumed that she meant Mr. Brightman's, and answered accordingly. +"Partially so." + +"You are aware how very unjustly my poor childish husband strove to +will away his property. Of course the will cannot be allowed to stand. +At the time of Sir Ralph's funeral, I informed Mr. Brightman that I +should take some steps to assert my rights, and I wished him to be my +solicitor in the matter. But no; he refused, and went over to the +enemy, Edmund Clavering." + +"We were solicitors to Mr. Edmund Clavering before he came into the +title." + +"Mr. Brightman was; you never did anything for him," she hastily +interrupted; "therefore no obligation can lie on you to act for him +now. I want you to act for me, and I have come all this way to request +you to do so." + +"I cannot do so, Lady Clavering. I have seen Sir Edmund since Mr. +Brightman's death, and have undertaken to carry on his business." + +"Seen Sir Edmund since Mr. Brightman's death!" + +"I have indeed." + +She threw herself back in her chair, and looked at me from under her +vain eyelids. "Leave him, Mr. Strange; you can easily make an excuse, +if you will. Mr. Brightman held all my husband's papers, knew all +about his property, and no one is so fitted to act for me as you, his +partner. I will make it worth your while." + +"What you suggest is impossible, Lady Clavering. We are enlisted in +the interests--I speak professionally--of the other side, and have +already advised with Sir Edmund as to the steps to be taken in the +suit you purpose to enter against him. To leave him for you, after +doing so, would be dishonourable and impossible." + +She shot another glance at me from those mischievous eyes. "I will +make it well worth your while, I repeat, Mr. Strange." + +I could look mischievous too, if I pleased; perhaps did on occasion; +but she could read nothing in my gaze then, as it met hers, that was +not sober as old Time. + +"I can only repeat my answer, Lady Clavering." + +Not a word spoke she; only made play with her eyes. Did the woman mean +to subdue me? Her gaze dropped. + +"I have heard Mr. Brightman speak of Charles Strange not only as a +thorough lawyer, but as a _gentleman_--very fond of the world's +vanities." + +"Not very fond, Lady Clavering. Joining in them occasionally, in +proper time and place." + +"I met you once at a large evening party. It was at old Judge +Tartar's," she ran on. + +"Indeed!" I answered, not remembering it. + +"It was before I married Sir Ralph. You came in with your relative, +Serjeant Stillingfar. What a charming man he is! I heard you tell +someone you had just come down from Oxford. _Won't_ you act for me, +Mr. Strange?" + +"Indeed, it does not lie in my power." + +"Well, I did not think a gentleman"--with another stress upon the +word--"would have refused to act on my behalf." + +"Lady Clavering must perceive that I have no alternative." + +"Who is Edmund Clavering that he should be preferred to me?" she +demanded with some vehemence. + +"Nay, Lady Clavering, circumstances compel the preference." + +A silence ensued, and I glanced at my watch--the lawyer's hint. She +did not take it. + +"Can you tell me whether, amidst the papers Mr. Brightman held +belonging to Sir Ralph, there are any letters of mine?" + +"I cannot say." + +"Some of my letters, to Sir Ralph and others, are missing, and I think +they must have got amongst the papers by mistake. Will you look?" + +"I will take an early opportunity of doing so." + +"Oh, but I mean now. I want them. Why cannot you search now?" + +I did not tell her why. In the first place, most of the Clavering +papers were in the room where Mr. Brightman was lying--and there were +other reasons also. + +"I cannot spare the time, Lady Clavering: I have an appointment out of +doors which I must keep. I will search for you in a day or two. But +should any letters of yours be here--of which I assure you I am +ignorant--you will pardon my intimating that it may not be expedient +to give them up." + +"What do you mean? Why not?" + +"Should they bear at all upon the cause at issue between you and Sir +Edmund Clavering----" + +"But they don't," she interrupted. + +"Then, if they do not, I shall be happy to enclose them to you." + +"It is of the utmost consequence to me that I should regain possession +of them," she said, with suppressed agitation. + +"And, if possible, you shall do so." I rose as I spoke, and waited for +her to rise. She did so, but advanced to the window and pulled the +blind aside. + +"My carriage is not back yet, Mr. Strange. A friend who came up with +me has gone to do a commission for herself. It will be here in a few +minutes. I suppose I can wait." + +I begged her to remain as long as she pleased, but to excuse me, for I +was already behind time. She drew up the blind a little and sat down +at the window as I left her. + +After giving some directions to Lennard, I hastened to keep my +appointment, which was at the Temple with a chamber-counsel. + +The interview lasted about twenty minutes. As I turned into Essex +Street again, Lady Clavering's carriage was bowling up it. I raised my +hat, and she bowed to me, leaning before another lady, who sat with +her, but she looked white and frightened. What had taken her +brilliant colour? At the door, when I reached it, stood the clerks, +Lennard amongst them, some with a laugh on their countenances, some +looking as white and scared as Lady Clavering. + +"Why, what is this?" I exclaimed. + +They went back to their desks, and Lennard explained. + +"You must have seen Lady Clavering's carriage," he began. + +"Yes." + +"Just before it came for her, cries and shrieks were heard above; +startling shrieks, terrifying us all. We hastened up with one accord, +and found that Lady Clavering----" + +"Well?" I impatiently cried, looking at Lennard. + +"Had gone into the next room, and seen Mr. Brightman," he whispered. +"It took three of us to hold her, and it ended with hysterics. Leah +came flying from the kitchen, took off her bonnet, and brought some +water." + +I was sorry to hear it; sorry that any woman should have been exposed +to so unpleasant a fright. "But it was her own fault," I said to +Lennard. "How could she think of entering a room of which the door was +locked?" + +"What right had she to attempt to enter it at all, locked or unlocked, +I should say, Mr. Strange!" returned Lennard severely. "And the best +of it was, she laid the blame upon us, asking what business we had to +put dead people into public rooms." + +"She is a curious sort of woman, I fancy, Lennard." + +And the more I thought of her, the more curious I found her. The door +between the two rooms had been locked, and the key was lying in the +corner of the mantelpiece. Lady Clavering must have searched for the +key before she could open the door and enter the room. + +With what motive had she entered it? + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE MISSING WILL. + + +Mr. Brightman was buried on the Thursday, and Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar +came up from circuit for the funeral. Three or four other gentlemen +attended, and myself. It was all done very quietly. After that the +will was read. + +He had not left as much money as might have been expected. I suppose +the rate at which they lived had absorbed it. Nearly the whole of it +was vested in trustees, who would pay the interest to Mrs. Brightman +until her death, when it would all descend unconditionally to Annabel. +If she married again, one half the yearly income at once went to +Annabel. To my surprise, I was left executor. Mr. Brightman had never +told me so. Of the two executors originally appointed--for the will +had been made many years--one had recently died, and Mr. Brightman had +inserted my name in his place. That all the work would fall upon my +shoulders I knew, for the other executor had become a confirmed +invalid. + +With regard to our own articles of partnership, provided for by a +recent codicil, they were very favourable to me, though somewhat +peculiar. If Mr. Brightman died before I was thirty years of age, +two-thirds of the net profits of the business were to be paid to Mrs. +Brightman for three years; but if I had passed my thirtieth year when +he died, only half the profits would go to her. After the first three +years, one-third of the profits would be hers for three years more; +and then all would revert to me absolutely. + +I wanted some years yet of thirty. But it was an excellent and +lucrative practice. Few men fall into so good a thing when they are +still young. + +"So there you are, Charles, the head of one of the best professional +houses in London," remarked my uncle Stillingfar, as he took my arm +when we were leaving the house. "Rather different from what your fate +might have been, had you carried out your wish of going to the Bar. My +boy, you may be thankful that you know nothing of the struggles I had +to go through." + +"Do you still feel quite well and strong, uncle?" I asked, after a +bit. + +"Yes, I do, Charles. I suppose you think I am growing old. But I +believe I am more capable of work than are many of my juniors who are +now on circuit with me. With a sound constitution, never played with, +and a temperate way of life, we retain our energies, by God's +blessing, to an older age than mine." + +That was no doubt true. True also that he must be making heaps of +money. I wondered what he meant to do with it. He had been very +liberal to me as long as I needed help, but that time was over. + +The sad week passed away. On the following Monday I set to +professional business in earnest: the previous week had been much +given to matters not professional. One of the first things to be +attended to was to prove the will of Sir Ralph Clavering, and, in the +course of the morning, I unlocked the iron safe in the front room to +get it. Nothing was ever placed in that safe but wills and +title-deeds, and these were never placed anywhere else. But where this +particular will was hiding itself, I could not tell, for I turned over +every paper the place contained without coming to it. "More haste less +speed," cried I to myself, for I had been doing it in a hurry. "I must +have overlooked it." + +So I began again and went through the papers carefully, paper by +paper. I had not overlooked it, for Sir Ralph's will was certainly not +there. + +Now, was I awake or dreaming? Was there a fairy in the walls to remove +things, or was the house bewitched?--or what was it? I went and +examined the Clavering papers, which were in Mr. Brightman's desk in +the adjoining room--my room, which had been cleaned and put straight +again. But the will was not amongst them. I searched other drawers and +desks in vain. Then I called up Lennard. + +"Do you know anything of Sir Ralph Clavering's will? I cannot find +it." + +"It must be in the safe," he replied. + +"It is not in the safe. Lennard, this is very strange: first that bag +of money, and now the will." + +"Oh, but it cannot be," returned Lennard, after a pause. "That the +gold went, appears to be too plain, but who would take a will? Money +might be a temptation, if any stranger did enter Mr. Brightman's room +that night, but----" + +"It has been proved almost beyond doubt that no one entered, and yet +the money went. Lennard, there's something not canny at work in the +house, as the Scotch say." + +"Do not think it, Mr. Strange," he replied warmly. "The gold appears +to have gone in some mysterious manner, but the will cannot be gone. +Depend upon it, it is in the safe." + +I had a great respect for Lennard's judgment, but I had as great +confidence in my own eyesight. I unlocked the safe again, and, taking +out the parchments, one by one, handed them to Lennard that he might +read their titles. "There," said I, when we had reached the last; "is +the will amongst them?" + +Lennard's face had turned grave. "This is very extraordinary!" he +exclaimed. "Mr. Brightman would not put it anywhere else." + +"He never put a will up in any other place than this since I have been +with him, Lennard; and I myself saw him put it in; held the light for +him: it was in the evening of last Tuesday week, after he came back +from Sir Ralph's funeral. It has gone after the gold." + +"No, no," he cried, almost in agitation; "it has not, it has not: I +will never believe it." + +One very slight hope came to me. Mr. Brightman might have given it +into the custody of Sir Edmund Clavering. But then Sir Edmund would +surely have said so when he spoke to me about proving the will. The +loss of the money was nothing to this, for that had been easily +replaced, and there was an end of the matter; but this loss could not +be replaced, and there was no knowing what the end would be. It might +be little short of ruin to Sir Edmund Clavering, and nothing short of +ruin to me: for who would continue to employ a firm liable to lose +wills? + +I was greatly occupied that day, but the missing will lay upon me as a +nightmare, and I forced time for a dash up to Sir Edmund Clavering's +hotel in the afternoon, bribing the cabman to double speed. By good +luck, I found Sir Edmund in, and inquired if he held possession of the +will. + +"Mr. Brightman holds the will," he replied. "Held, I should say: I +cannot yet speak of him in the past tense, you see. He took it home +with him after Sir Ralph's funeral." + +"I know he brought it home, Sir Edmund; but I thought it possible he +might since then have given it into your possession. I hoped he had, +for I cannot find the will. I have searched for it everywhere." + +"Not find the will!" he echoed. "Perhaps you have looked in every +place but the right one," he added, with a slight laugh. "I can tell +you where it is." + +"Where?" + +"In the iron safe in Mr. Brightman's room." + +"It was placed there--we never put wills anywhere else; never--but it +is not there now. May I ask how you knew it was there, Sir Edmund?" + +"Because on the day but one following the funeral I came to town and +had an interview with Mr. Brightman in his room. It was on the +Thursday. Perhaps you remember that I was with him that day?" + +"Quite well." + +"During our consultation we differed in opinion as to a certain clause +in the will, and Mr. Brightman took it out of the safe to convince me. +He was right, and I was wrong; as, indeed, I might have known, +considering that he had made the will. He put it back into the safe at +once and locked it up. When are you going to prove the will? It ought +to be done now." + +"I was going to set about it this very day; but, as I say, I cannot +find the will." + +"It must be easy enough to find a big parchment like that. If not in +the safe, Mr. Brightman must have put it elsewhere. Look in all his +pigeon-holes and places." + +"I have looked: I have looked everywhere.---- Just as I looked some +days before for the bag of sovereigns," I mentally added. + +But Sir Edmund Clavering was determined to treat the matter lightly: +he evidently attached no importance to it whatever, believing that +Mr. Brightman had only changed its place. + +I went home again, feeling as uncomfortable as I had ever felt in my +life. An undefined idea, a doubt, had flashed into my mind whilst I +had been talking to Lennard. Imagination is quicker with me, I know, +than with many people; and the moment a thing puzzles me, I must dive +into its why and wherefore: its various bearings and phases, probable +and improbable, natural and unnatural. This doubt--which I had driven +away at the time, had been driving away during my gallop to Sir +Edmund's, and whilst I was conversing with him--now grew into +suspicion. + +Let me explain how I arrived at this suspicion. When I found the will +had disappeared from the safe--when I searched and searched in vain--I +could only come to the conclusion that it had been stolen. But why was +it taken? From what motive? Why should that one particular parchment +be abstracted, and the others left? Obviously, it could only have +been from interested motives. Now, who had an interest in getting +possession of the will--so that it might not be proved and acted upon? +Only one person in the whole world--Lady Clavering. And Lady Clavering +had been alone in the room where the safe was for nearly half an hour. + +If she had obtained possession of the will, there was farewell to our +ever getting it again. I saw through her character at that first +interview: she was a woman absolutely without scruple. + +But how could she have got at it? Even supposing she knew the will was +in the iron safe, she could not have opened it without the key; and +how could she have obtained the key? + +Again--if Lady Clavering were the guilty party, what became of my very +natural suspicions that the will and the gold were both taken by the +same hand? And with the gold Lady Clavering could have had nothing to +do. Look at it as I would, perplexities arose; points difficult, if +not impossible, to reconcile. + +Lennard met me in the passage on my return. "Is it all right? Has Sir +Edmund got it, sir?" + +"No, no; I told you it was a forlorn hope. Come upstairs, Lennard. Sir +Edmund has not the will," I continued, as we entered the front room. +"He says that when he was here last Thursday week, Mr. Brightman had +occasion to refer to the will, took it from the safe, and put it back +again. Therefore it is since that period that the theft has taken +place." + +"Can you really look upon it as _stolen_?" Lennard uttered, with +emphasis. "Who would steal so valueless a thing as a will?" + +"Not valueless to everyone." + +"No one in the house would do such a thing. You have a suspicion?" he +added. + +"Yes, I have, Lennard." + +He began to pace the room. Lennard was, in truth, completely upset by +this loss. "Of whom?" he presently jerked out. "Surely not of Leah!" + +"Of Leah! Oh no!" + +"I fancied you suspected her in the matter of the money. I feel sure +she was innocent." + +"So do I. Leah no more took the money than you or I did, Lennard. And +what should she want with the will? If I made her a present of all the +wills in the safe, she would only light her fires with them as useless +lumber. Try again." + +But he only shook his head. "I cannot catch your drift, sir." + +"To all persons, two excepted, the will would be as useless as to +Leah. One of those two is Sir Edmund; and he has it not: the other is +Lady Clavering." + +"But surely you cannot suspect her!" exclaimed Lennard. "You cannot +suspect Lady Clavering!" + +"To say that I suspect her would perhaps be too strong a word, +Lennard. If my doubts rest upon her at all, it is because she is the +only person who could have an interest in getting possession of the +will; and she is the only stranger, as far as I can recollect, who has +been alone in this room sufficiently long to take it from the safe." + +Lennard was incredulous. "But she had not the key of the safe. She +could not have opened it without it." + +"I know--I see the improbabilities that encompass my doubts; but I can +think of nothing else." + +"Where was the key of the safe?" asked Lennard. + +"In that back room; and in Mr. Brightman's deep drawer--the drawer +from which the gold was taken," was my grave answer. "And she could +not have got at it without--without passing him." + +Lennard's face grew hot. + +"And the key of that drawer was here, in my own pocket, on the bunch." +I took out the bunch of keys as I spoke--Mr. Brightman's bunch until +within a few days--and shook it before him. + +"What mystery has come over the house, about keys, and locks, and +things disappearing?" Lennard murmured, as a man bewildered. + +"Lennard, it is the question I am asking myself." + +"She could never have gone in there and passed him; and stood there +while she got the key. A young and beautiful woman like Lady +Clavering! Sir, it would be unnatural." + +"No more unnatural for beauty than for ugliness, Lennard. Unnatural +for most women, though, whether pretty or plain." + +"But how could she have divined that the key of the safe was in that +drawer, or in that room?" urged Lennard. "For the matter of that, how +could she have known that the will was in the safe?" + +Truly the affair presented grave perplexities. "One curious part of it +is that she should have called you up with her screams, Lennard," I +remarked. "If she had only that moment opened the door, and +seen--what frightened her, she could not have been already in the +room hunting for the key. Were the screams assumed? Was it all a piece +of acting?" + +"It would take a subtle actress to counterfeit her terror," replied +Lennard; "and the best actress breathing could not have assumed her +ghastly look. No, Mr. Strange, I believe what she said was the fact: +that, weary of waiting for her carriage, she had walked about the +room, then opened the door, and passed into the other without any +thought except that of distracting her ennui." + +"She must have looked about for the key of the door, mind you, +Lennard." + +A man has rarely been placed in a more disagreeable predicament than I +felt to be in then. It was of no use temporising with the matter: I +could only meet it boldly, and I sent that evening for Sir Edmund +Clavering, and laid it before him. I told him of Lady Clavering's +visit, and hinted at the doubt which had forced itself on my mind. +Sir Edmund jumped to the conclusion (and into a passion at the same +time) that she was the culprit, and declared he would apply for a +warrant at Bow Street on the morrow, to take her into custody. With +extreme difficulty I got him to hear reason against anything of the +sort. + +Lennard, who had remained, came round to Sir Edmund's opinion that it +must inevitably have been Lady Clavering. Failing her, no shadow of +suspicion could attach itself to anyone, sift and search into the +matter as we would. + +"But neither was there as to the gold," was my rejoinder. + +Then after they were gone, and I sat by the fire in the front room, +and went over the details dispassionately and carefully, and lay awake +the best part of the night, going over them still, my suspicions of +Lady Clavering lessened, and I arrived at the conclusion that they +were too improbable to be well founded. + +Nevertheless, I intended to pursue the course I had decided on: and +that was to call upon her. She, like Sir Edmund, was now staying in +London, at an hotel. Not to accuse her, but to see if I could not, +indirectly, make out something that would confirm or dissipate my +suspicion. + +I went up in the course of the morning. Lady Clavering was sitting +alone, her widow's cap on the sofa beside her. She hurried it on to +her head, when the waiter announced me. + +"It is so hot and ugly," she exclaimed, in tones of excuse. "I sit +without it when I am alone. So you have condescended to return my +visit, Mr. Strange. I thought you gentlemen of the law took refuge in +your plea of occupation to ignore etiquette." + +"Indeed it is not out of deference to etiquette that I have called +upon you to-day, Lady Clavering, but----" + +"You have thought better of your refusal: you have come to say you +will undertake my business!" she interrupted, eyes and looks full of +eagerness. + +"Nor yet that," I was forced to reply, though, in truth, I should +have been glad to conciliate her. "I am sure you will find many an +advocate quite as efficient as I should be. The day you were at our +house, did you happen to see----" + +"Mr. Strange, I must beg you, as a gentleman, not to allude to what I +saw," she interposed, in tones of alarm. "I think it was inexcusable +on your part not to have informed me what was in the next room." + +"Pardon me, Lady Clavering; it would have been an unnecessary and +unpleasant piece of information to volunteer: for how could I possibly +foresee that you would be likely to enter that room?" I might have +added--look for the key, unlock it, and go into it. + +"I never saw a dead person in my life," she rejoined; "not even my +husband; and I shall not easily recover from the shock. I would give +anything rather than have been exposed to it." + +"And so would I, and I shall always regret it," was my warm apology. + +"Then why do you introduce the subject?" + +"I did not intend to allude to that; but to your having sat in the +front room I must allude; and I know you will excuse my asking you the +question I am about to put to you. Did you happen to see a parchment +lying in that front room: on the table, or the side-tables, +or--anywhere, in short? We have missed one: and if you chanced to have +noticed it, it would be a great assistance to us, as a proof that we +need not carry our researches further back than that day." + +"I don't remember that I saw any parchment," she carelessly rejoined. +"I saw some papers, tied round with pink tape, on the table; I did not +notice them particularly. I pray you not to make me think about that +afternoon, or you will have me in hysterics again." + +"It is not possible--your ladyship will pardon me--that it can have +caught your dress in any way, and so have been carried downstairs and +out of the house, and--perhaps--lost in the street?" I persisted +slowly, looking at her. + +Looking at her: but I could detect no emotion on her face; no drooping +of the eye; no rise or fall of colour, such as one guilty would have +been likely to display. She appeared to take my question literally, +and to see nothing beyond it. + +"I cannot tell anything about it, Mr. Strange. Had my dress been +covered with parchments, I was in too much terror to notice them. Your +clerks would be more able to answer you than I, for they had to assist +me down to my carriage. But how should a parchment become attached to +a lady's dress?" she added, shaking out the folds of her ample skirts. +"The crape is quite soft, you perceive. Touch it." + +"Quite so," I assented, advancing for a half-moment the extreme tip of +my forefinger. + +"You will take a glass of wine? Now don't say no. Why can't you be +sociable?" + +"Not any wine, thank you," I answered with a laugh. "We lawyers have +to keep our heads clear, Lady Clavering: we should not do that if we +took wine in the daytime." + +"Sit still, pray. You have scarcely been here five minutes. I want to +speak to you, too, upon a matter of business." + +So I resumed my seat, and waited. She was looking at me very +earnestly. + +"It is about those missing letters of mine. Have you searched for +them, Mr. Strange?" + +"Partially. I do not think we hold any. There are none amongst the +Clavering papers." + +"Why do you say 'partially'?" she questioned. + +"I have not had time to search amongst the packets of letters in Mr. +Brightman's cupboards and places. But I think if there were any of +your letters in our possession they would have been with the Clavering +papers." + +Her gaze again sought mine for a moment, and then faded to vacancy. +"I wonder if he burnt them," she dreamily uttered. + +"Who? Mr. Brightman?" + +"No; my husband. You must look _everywhere_, Mr. Strange. If those +letters are in existence, I must have them. You will look?" + +"Certainly I will." + +"I shall remain in town until I hear from you. You _will_ go, then!" + +"One more question ere I do go, Lady Clavering. Have you positively no +recollection of seeing this lost parchment?" + +She looked surprised at my pertinacity. "If I had, I should say so. I +do not think I saw anything of the sort. But if I had seen it, the +subsequent fright would have taken it clean out of my memory." + +So I wished her good-morning and departed. "It is not Lady Clavering," +I exclaimed to Lennard, when I reached home. + +"Are you sure of that, Mr. Strange?" + +"I think so. I judge by her manner: it is only consistent with perfect +innocence. In truth, Lennard, I begin to see that I was foolish to +have doubted her at all, the circumstances surrounding it are so +intensely improbable." + +And yet, even while I spoke, something of the suspicion crept into my +mind again. So prone to inconsistency is the human heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +ANNABEL. + + +Most men have their romance in life sooner or later. Mine had come in +due course, and she who made it for me was Annabel Brightman. + +After my first meeting with her, when she was a child of fourteen, and +I not much more than a lad of twenty, I had continued to see her from +time to time, for Mr. Brightman's first invitation to me was only the +prelude to others. I watched her grow up into a good, unaffected +woman, lovable and charming as she was when a child. Childhood had +passed away now, and thought and gentleness had taken its place; and +to my eyes and my heart no other girl in the world could compare with +Annabel Brightman. + +Her father suspected it. Had he lived only a little longer, he would +have learned it beyond doubt, for I should have spoken out more fully +upon the matter. + +A little less than a year before his death--it was on a Good Friday--I +was spending the day at his house, and was in the garden with Annabel. +She had taken my arm, and we were pacing the broad walk to the left of +the lawn, thinking only of ourselves, when, raising my eyes, I saw Mr. +Brightman looking attentively at us from one of the French windows. He +beckoned to me, and I went in. + +"Charles," said he, when I had stepped inside, "no _nonsense_. You and +Annabel are too young for anything of that sort." + +I felt that his eyes were full upon me as I stood before him, and my +face flushed to the roots of my hair. But I took courage to ask a +question. + +"Sir, every year passing over our heads will lessen that objection. +Would there be any other?" + +"Be quiet, Charles. Time enough to talk of these things when the years +shall have passed. You are too young for them, I say." + +"I am twenty-five, sir; and Miss Brightman----" + +"Twenty-five?" he interrupted. "I was past forty when I thought of +marriage. You must not turn Annabel's head with visions of what the +years may bring forth, for if you do I will not have you here. Leave +that to the future." + +But there was sufficient in Mr. Brightman's manner to prove that he +had not been blind to the attachment springing up between us, and +undoubtedly regarded me as the possible future husband of his +daughter. At any rate he continued to invite me to his house. During +the past year Annabel had been a great deal at Hastings with Miss +Brightman; I wondered that her father and mother would spare her so +much. + +But Annabel knew nothing of that conversation, and I had never yet +spoken of love to her. And now Mr. Brightman, who would, or at least +might, have sanctioned it, was gone; and Mrs. Brightman, who would +certainly, as I believed, oppose it, remained. + +In the days immediately following Mr. Brightman's death, I was +literally overwhelmed with business. Apart from the additional work +that naturally fell upon me--his share as well as mine--no end of +clients came pouring in; and for no earthly purpose, that I could see, +excepting curiosity. Besides this, there was the frightful search for +Sir Ralph Clavering's will, and the anxiety its loss entailed on me. + +On the Wednesday afternoon, just as I had got rid of two clients, +Lennard came up with the news that someone else was there. I was then +in the front room, seated at Mr. Brightman's desk. Too impatient to +hear Lennard out, I told him I could see no one; could not, and would +not. + +"It is Miss Annabel Brightman," rejoined Lennard quietly. + +"Miss Annabel Brightman? Oh, that's very different; I will see her." + +Annabel came in, throwing back her crape veil. She had driven up alone +in the carriage to bring me a message from her mother. Mrs. Brightman +had made an appointment with me for that evening at her house; she had +now sent to tell me not to keep it, as she was not well enough to +attend to business. + +"Mamma wishes you to come to-morrow instead of to-day; early in the +afternoon," added Annabel. + +That would be impossible, and I said so; my engagements would not at +present permit me to give up an afternoon. + +"Perhaps to-morrow evening will do," I suggested. "In fact it must do, +Annabel. I don't know when I shall have leisure to come down to you in +the daytime." + +"I dare say it will do," assented Annabel. "At any rate, you can come +to us. If mamma is not able to enter into business matters, another +time can be appointed." + +"Is your mamma so very ill?" + +"Sometimes I think so--but she fluctuates," replied Annabel. "She is +extremely weak, and her spirits are depressed. She will pass whole +hours shut up in her room in solitude. When I ask to go in, Hatch +brings out a message that mamma is not able to see even me." + +"Her illness must be on the nerves." + +"I suppose so. Yesterday she came down and walked with me in the +garden in the sunshine. She seemed pretty well then, but not strong. +In the evening she shut herself up again." + +"I wish you would sit down, Annabel," I said, offering her a chair for +the third time. + +"I would if I could stay. Mamma charged me to go straight back after +leaving the message with you. Are you well?" she continued with +hesitation. "You look harassed." + +"I am well, Annabel. But you have used the right word--I am harassed; +terribly so." + +"Poor papa!" she sighed. "It has brought a world of work and care upon +you, as well as of grief to us." + +"I should not mind work. But--we have had another loss, Annabel. A +loss as mysterious as that of the gold; and far more important." + +"What is it?" she asked. "More money?" + +"No; I wish it were. A will, deposited in the safe there, has +disappeared. I cannot even guess at the consequences; ruin probably to +me and to one of our best clients. Not only that. If things are to +vanish so unaccountably from our strongholds, we must have an enemy at +work, and it is impossible to foresee where it may end." + +"How very strange! What was the will like? I mean, what did it look +like? I have a reason for asking you." + +"It was a folded parchment. You saw your father's will, Annabel: it +looked very much like that. Why do you ask?" + +"Because I remember papa's bringing home a parchment exactly like the +one you describe. It was an evening or two before he died: the evening +before I and mamma went to Hastings. We left on Saturday, so it must +have been Friday. Do you think it could be the missing will?" + +"Oh no. I have known Mr. Brightman--though very rarely--take home +deeds which required studying; but he was not likely to take home Sir +Ralph Clavering's will. He made it himself, and knew every word it +contained. Annabel, I did not intend to let out the name, but it will +be safe with you." + +"Perfectly so; as safe as with yourself. I will not repeat it, even to +mamma." + +"And what I shall do I cannot tell," I concluded, as I attended her +down to the carriage. "I would give every shilling I possess to find +it." + +More work, and then the afternoon came to an end, my dinner came up, +and I was at liberty to enjoy a little rest. I had taken to the front +room as my sitting-room, and should speedily remove the desk and iron +safe into the other, making that exclusively a business-room, and +seeing clients in it. After dinner, the fire clear, my reading-lamp +lighted, I took up the newspaper. But for habits of order and +self-denying rules, I should never have attained to the position I +enjoyed. One of those rules was, never to read the _Times_ or any work +of relaxation until my work was over for the day. I could then enjoy +my paper and my cigar, and feel that I had earned both. + +I took up the _Times_, and almost the very first paragraph my eye fell +upon was the following: + +"We hear that the convict ship _Vengeance_, after encountering stormy +weather and contrary winds on her passage out, has been wrecked upon +an uninhabited island. It is said that some of the convicts have +escaped." + +I started up almost as if I had been shot. Tom Heriot had gone out in +the _Vengeance_: was he one of those who had escaped? If so, where was +he? and what would be his ultimate fate? + +The ship had sailed from our shores in August; this was February: +therefore the reader may think that the news had been long enough in +reaching England. But it must be remembered that sailing-vessels were +at the mercy of the winds and waves, and in those days telegrams and +cablegrams had not been invented. + +Throwing my cigar into the fire and the newspaper on the table, I fell +into an unpleasant reverie. My lucky star did not seem in the +ascendant just now. Mr. Brightman's unhappy death; this fresh +uncertainty about Tom Heriot; the certain loss of the gold, and the +disappearance of the will---- + +A ring at the visitors' bell aroused me. I listened, as Leah opened +the door, curious to know who could be coming after office hours, +unless it was Sir Edmund Clavering. Lake was in the country. + +"Is Mr. Strange in, Leah?" And the sound of the sweet voice set my +heart beating. + +"Yes, Miss Brightman. Please go up." + +A light foot on the stairs, and Annabel entered, holding up a +parchment with its endorsement towards me. "Will of Sir Ralph +Clavering." + +"Oh, Annabel! you are my guardian angel!" + +I seized the deed and her hands together. She smiled, and drew away +the latter. + +"I still thought the parchment I spoke of might be the missing one," +she explained, "and when I got home I looked in papa's secretaire. +There it was." + +"And you have come back to bring it to me!" + +"Of course I have. It would have been cruel to let you pass another +night of suspense. I came as soon as I had dined." + +"Who is with you?" + +"No one; I came in by the omnibus. In two omnibuses really, for the +first one only brought me as far as Charing Cross." + +"You came in by omnibus! And alone?" + +"Why not? Who was to know me, or what could harm me? I kept my veil +down. I would not order the carriage out again. It might have +disturbed mamma, and she is in bed with one of her worst headaches. +And now, Charles, I must hasten back again." + +"Wait one moment, Annabel, whilst I lock up this doubly-precious +will." + +"Why? You are not going to trouble yourself to accompany me, when you +are so busy? It is not in the least necessary. I shall return home +just as safely as I came here." + +"You silly child! That you have come here at night and alone, I cannot +help; but what would Mrs. Brightman say to me if I suffered you to go +back in the same manner?" + +"I suppose it was not quite right," she returned laughingly; "but I +only thought of the pleasure of restoring the will." + +I locked it up in the safe, and went downstairs with her. Why Mr. +Brightman should have taken the will home puzzled me considerably; but +the relief to my mind was inexpressible, and I felt quite a gush of +remorse towards Lady Clavering for having unjustly suspected her. + +The prosy old omnibus, as it sped on its way to Clapham, was to me as +an Elysian chariot. And we had it to ourselves the whole way, but +never a word passed between us that might not have been spoken before +a committee of dowagers. In fact, we talked chiefly of Miss Brightman. +I began it by asking how she was. + +"Aunt Lucy is very delicate indeed," replied Annabel. "Papa's death +has tried her greatly: and anything that tries her at once affects her +chest. She says she shall not be able to risk another winter in +England, even at Hastings." + +"Where would she go?" + +"To Madeira. At least, she thinks so now. In a letter mamma received +from her yesterday, Aunt Lucy said she should go there in the autumn." + +"She will find it very dull and lonely--all by herself." + +"Yes," sighed Annabel. "Mamma said she should send me with her. But of +course I could not go--and leave mamma. I wish I had a sister! One of +us might then accompany Aunt Lucy, and the other remain at home. What +do you think that stupid Hatch said?" cried Annabel, running on. "We +were talking about it at lunch, and Hatch was in the room. 'It's just +the best thing you can do, Miss Annabel, to go with your aunt,' she +declared, following up mamma's remark." + +"Perhaps Mrs. Brightman may take it into her head to go to Madeira +also?" + +Annabel made a movement of dissent. "No, I don't think she would do +that, Charles. She and Aunt Lucy used to be the very best of friends, +but lately there has been some coolness between them. The reason is +not known to me, but I fancy Hatch knows it." + +"Hatch seems to be quite a confidential attendant on your mamma." + +"Oh yes, she is so. She has lived with us so long, you see; and mamma, +when she was Miss Chantry, knew Hatch when she was quite a child. They +both come from the same place--near Malvern, in Worcestershire. Aunt +Lucy and mamma were intimate in early days, and it was through that +intimacy that papa first knew Miss Chantry. Why she and Aunt Lucy +should have grown cool to one another now, I cannot tell; but they +have done so--and oh, I am sorry for it. I love Aunt Lucy very, very +much," added the girl enthusiastically. + +"And I'm sure I love the name--Lucy," I said, laughing. "It was my +mother's." + +The evening was yet early when we reached Mrs. Brightman's, for eight +o'clock was striking. Hatch, in her new mourning, came stealing down +the stairs with a quiet footfall, her black cap-strings flying as +usual. + +"Why, Miss Annabel, where have you been?" she cried. "I couldn't +_imagine_ what had become of you." + +"I had to go out, Hatch--to take a deed to the office that poor papa +had brought home and left here. Why? Has mamma wanted me?" + +"Not she," returned Hatch. "She has just dropped off into a doze, and +I am trying to keep the house free from noise. I thought you had been +spirited away, Miss Annabel, and that's the truth." + +"Mrs. Brightman has one of her bad headaches?" I remarked. + +Hatch looked at me; then quickly at her young mistress: as much as to +say: "You've been telling him that, Miss Annabel." + +"It is that bad to-night, Mr. Charles, that her temples is fit to +split," she answered. "Since master's death she have had 'em a'most +constant--and no wonder, with all the worry and the shock it brought +her. Are you going already, sir?" + +"Will you not stay for tea?" asked Annabel. + +"Not to-night, thank you," I replied. + +"I'll let you out quietly," said Hatch, advancing towards the +hall-door. "And mind, Miss Annabel, you are not to go anigh your +mamma's room to waken her," she added, looking back dictatorially. +"When one is racked with pain, body and mind, sleep is more precious +than gold." + +Hatch had lived there during the whole of Annabel's life, and could +not always lay aside the authoritative manner she had exercised +towards the child; possibly did not try to do so. + +Great sway was held by Hatch in the household, and Mrs. Brightman +appeared to sanction it. Certainly she never in any way interfered +with it. But Hatch, always kindly, was a favourite with the servants. + +With her shrewdness, capability and strong sense, it seemed a marvel +that she should not have improved in manners and in her way of +speaking. But she remained very much the same rough diamond that she +had always been. Strangers were wont to feel surprise that Mrs. +Brightman, herself so refined a woman, should put up with Hatch as +her personal attendant; and in her attacks of illness Hatch would be +in her mistress's room for hours together. At this time I knew nothing +of Hatch's antecedents, very little of Mrs. Brightman's; or of matters +relating to the past; and when circumstances brought me into Hatch's +confidence, she enlightened me upon some points of the family history. +A few of her communications I cannot do better than insert here, +improving somewhat upon her parts of speech. + +I recall the scene now. It was a lovely moonlit evening, not long +after the time of which I am writing. I had gone to Clapham to inquire +after Mrs. Brightman, who was then seriously ill, and kept her +chamber. Strolling about the garden in the soft twilight, wishing +Annabel was at home instead of at Hastings, Hatch came out and joined +me, and at once fell to chatting without ceremony. I made a remark, +quite by chance, that touched upon the subject of Mrs. Brightman's +early life; it was immediately taken up by Hatch and enlarged upon. I +heard much to which I had hitherto been a stranger. + +"Colonel Chantry and his wife, who was the daughter of Lord Onyx, +lived at their seat, Chantry Hall, a beautiful place not far from +Malvern in Worcestershire. They had three children--George, Frederic +and Emma, who were reared in all the pride and pomp of the Chantry +family. The property was strictly entailed. It would descend to George +Chantry at his father's death; and as Colonel Chantry had no other +property whatever, and as he lived not only up to his income but +beyond it, the future look-out for the younger son and the daughter +was not a very great one. + +"Such a dash they kept up," said Hatch, warming with her subject. "The +Colonel liked show and parade, and Madam, as we always called her, had +been born to it. She was the Honourable Mrs. Chantry, you see, sir, +and chose to live according. They visited all the noble families round +about, and were visited back again. The Somers' at Eastnor Castle, the +Lyons' at Maddresfield, the Foleys at Whitley, the other Foleys at +Stoke Edith, the Coventrys over at Croome, the Lechmeres at the Rhydd, +the Hornyholds at Blacknore Park, and the Parkingtons at +Ombersley--but there'd be no end if I stopped to tell you the half of +'em. Besides that, Mrs. Chantry counted a near relative in one of the +cathedral prebendaries at Worcester--and for pride and exclusiveness +some of those old prebendaries capped the world. So that----" + +"But, Hatch, why are you telling me this?" I interrupted. + +"To give you a notion of what my mistress was accustomed to when she +was Miss Emma Chantry," promptly replied Hatch. "Well, Mr. Charles, +they grew up, those three children, and I watched 'em grow; not that I +was as old as they were; and I looked upon 'em as the finest and +grandest young people in the world. The two sons spent a good deal +more than they ought. Mr. Frederic especially, and the Colonel had to +find a lot o' money, for 'twas wanted on all sides, and folks +wondered how he did it. The end to it came all on a sudden--death." + +"Whose death?" + +"The Colonel's, sir. Mr. George, who was then Captain Chantry, and +about twenty-seven years old, took the estate. But it was frightfully +encumbered, and he complained bitterly to his mother that he should be +a poor man for years and years to come. Madam resented what he said, +and a quarrel ensued. She would not remain at the Hall, as he had +expected her to do, but took a cottage at Malvern, and went into it +with her daughter, with a parade of humility. She did not live very +long after that, and Miss Emma was thrown on the world. Captain +Chantry was married, then, to an earl's daughter; but his wife and +Miss Emma did not get on together. Miss Emma refused to make her home +at the Hall with Lady Grace, and she came to London on a visit to Miss +Lucy Brightman, whose mother was living there. She and Miss Lucy had +been at a finishing school together years before, and they had kept +up their friendship. It was there she first saw Mr. Brightman, who was +a great many years older than his sister; and it ended in their being +married." + +"And you came into their service, I suppose, Hatch?" + +"I did, sir. They had been married near upon twelve months when young +Mrs. Brightman found occasion to discharge two or three of her +servants: and she wrote to the late housekeeper at Chantry Hall, +asking her to find her some from our neighbourhood. London servants +were _frightful_, she said: fine, lazy, extravagant and insolent. +Mother heard about it, and spoke for me to go as under-housemaid. +Well, I was engaged, Mr. Charles, and I came up here to Clapham: and I +was called 'Hatch' from the beginning, because my Christian name, +Emma, was the same as my lady's. Soon after this, Miss Annabel was +born. It was my duty to wait upon the nurse and the sick-room; and my +lady--who was ill and weakly for a long while--grew to like to have +me there. She would talk about the old place to me, for you see I knew +all the people in it as well as she did. Next, she made me +upper-housemaid; and in a very few years, for she had found out how +clever I was at dressmaking and with the needle generally, I became +her maid." + +"And you are in her confidence, Hatch?" I rejoined. "Deservedly so, I +am sure." + +"In a measure I am, Mr. Charles. A lady like my Missis, who never +loses her pride day nor night, cannot descend to be over-confidential +with an inferior. But I know she values me--and so did my poor master. +I mayn't be polished, Mr. Charles, but I'd go through fire and water +for them any day." + +And I am sure she would have done so. + +Well, this was a portion of what Hatch told me. But I must now go back +to the night whose events were interrupted for the purpose of +recording these details. Not that there is anything more to relate of +the night in question. Leaving a message that I would call on Mrs. +Brightman in good time the following evening, wishing Annabel +good-night, and Hatch also, I returned home. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +PERRY'S REVELATION. + + +DEAR STRANGE,--Have you seen the news in to-day's paper? I have just +caught sight of it. If the _Vengeance_ has foundered, or whatever the +mishap may be, and Tom Heriot should be one of the escaped prisoners, +he will be sure to make his way home. Rely upon it he has not grown +less reckless than he was, but probably has become more so. What +trouble may not come of it? Do try and get at the particulars +officially, as to whether there's truth in the report, or not; and let +me know without delay. + + Very truly yours, + + LEVEL. + +Letters from Paris and the Continent generally were then usually +delivered about mid-day. I was talking with Lennard in the front +office when this one arrived. The clerks had gone to dinner. + +"Have you heard the rumour about the ship _Vengeance_, Lennard?" I +asked, laying down Lord Level's letter. + +"I read it yesterday," he answered. + +"I wonder how I could learn whether there's any foundation for it?" + +Before he could answer me, we were interrupted by Major Carlen. He was +in his usual state of excitement; his face lengthened, his arms thrown +about, and his everlasting blue cloak trailing about him. I slipped +the letter into my desk. + +"Here's a pretty go, Charles!" he exclaimed. "Have you heard of it +yet? That convict ship's gone to the bottom, and Tom Heriot has +escaped." + +"You should not assert that so positively, Major Carlen," I +remonstrated. "It is not certain that any of the men have escaped, I +suppose. If they have, Tom Heriot may not be one of them." + +"But they have escaped," stuttered the gray old man, plumping himself +down on a stool, around which his cloak fell like so much drapery. +"Five have got off, and Tom is one of them." + +"How do you know that?" + +"How do I know it? How could I tell you if I didn't know it? Half an +hour ago I met Percival in Downing Street, and he told me." + +What little hope had been left within me took wings and flew away. +Percival was First Lord of the Admiralty. He would certainly know the +truth. + +"Government has had official news of it," went on the Major gloomily; +"and with it a list of the fugitives." + +"And Tom's name is amongst them?" + +"Tom's name is amongst them." + +There was a pause. Lennard had gone into the other room. Major Carlen +rose, saying something about lunch waiting for him at his club. + +"Mark you, Charles: if Tom takes it into that rattle-pate of his to +worm his way back to these shores, there may be the devil to pay. I +hope with all my heart Level won't hear of this. The disgrace has been +a precious thorn to him from the first." + +"Blanche knows nothing at all of the matter as yet. She thinks Tom is +with his regiment in India. The last time I saw her in Paris, not long +before Mr. Brightman's death, she asked me what could be the reason +Tom did not write to her." + +"Much better tell her, and get it over," spoke the Major. "I should, +if I were Level. He is more careful of her than she deserves--silly +chit!" + +Major Carlen and his cloak swung out again, the clerks came back, and +the day and its duties went on. I wrote to Lord Level; giving him the +substance of what the Major had heard, and telling him that I thought +there could be little fear of Tom Heriot's venturing back to England. +He could never be so reckless as to risk the danger. + +Dinner over, I started for Mrs. Brightman's, and was admitted by the +butler, who told me, in answer to my inquiry, that his mistress had +been ill all day and had not come down. Tea waited on the drawing-room +table, but no one was in the room. Presently Annabel entered. + +"I am sorry you should have had the trouble to come, when perhaps you +could not spare the time," she said. "Mamma is not well enough to see +you." + +"I was not busy to-night, Annabel. Perry has just told me your mamma +has not been down to-day. Is her illness anything more than would be +caused by these bad headaches? Do you fear anything serious?" + +"Yes--no. I--I hope not." + +Her voice and manner were excessively subdued, as if she could +scarcely speak from fear of breaking down. She turned to the table, +evidently to avoid my notice, and busied herself with the teacups. + +"What is the matter, Annabel?" + +"Nothing," she faintly answered, though her tears were even then +falling. But I knew that some great trouble must be upon her. + +"Is Mrs. Brightman vexed with you for having come up last night with +that deed?" + +"No; oh no! I told mamma about it this morning, and she said I had +done quite right to take it up, but that I ought to have gone in the +carriage." + +"What, then, is causing you this grief?" + +"You cannot expect me to be in very good spirits as yet," she replied: +which was a decided evasion. "There are times--when I feel--the +loss----" + +She fairly broke down, and, sinking into a chair, cried bitterly and +without concealment. I waited until she had become calmer. + +"Annabel, my dear, sorrow for your loss is not all that disturbs your +peace to-night. What else is there?" + +"It is true that I have had something to vex me," she admitted after +a pause. "But I cannot tell you about it." + +"It is a momentary trouble, I hope; one that will pass away----" + +"It will never pass away," she interrupted, with another burst of +emotion. "It will be a weight and a grief upon me as long as life +shall last. I almost wish I had died with my father, rather than have +to live and bear it." + +I took her hands in mine, and spoke deliberately. "If it be so serious +a trouble as that, I must know it, Annabel." + +"And if it were of a nature to be spoken of, you should know it. But +it is not, and I can tell you nothing." + +"Could you speak of it to your father, were he still living?" + +"We should be compelled to speak of it, I fear. But----" + +"Then, my dear, you can speak of it to me. From henceforth you must +look upon me as in his place; your protector; your best friend: one +who will share your cares, perhaps more closely than he could have +done; who will strive to soothe them with a love that could not have +been his. In a short time, Annabel, I shall ask you to give me the +legal right to be and do this." + +"It can never be," she replied, lifting her tearful eyes to mine. + +I looked at her with an amused smile. I knew she loved me--and what +other obstacle could exist? Mrs. Brightman might oppose it at first, +but I did not despair of winning her over in the end. + +"Not quite yet, I know," I answered her. "In a few months' time." + +"Charles, you misunderstand me. I said it could never be. _Never._" + +"I certainly do not understand that. Had your father lived, it would +have been; and I do not say this without reason for the assertion. I +believe that he would have given you to me, Annabel, heartily, with +all his good will." + +"Yes, that may be true; I think you are right; but----" + +"But what, then? One word, Annabel: the objection would not surely +come from your heart?" + +"No, it would not," she softly answered, blushing deeply. "Please do +not speak of these things." + +"I did not intend to speak of them so soon. But I wish to remind you +that I do possess a right to share your troubles, of whatever nature +those troubles may be. Come, my darling, tell me your grief." + +"Indeed I cannot," she answered, "and you know I am not one to refuse +anything from caprice. Let me go, Charles; I must make the tea." + +I did let her go; but I bent over her first, without warning, and +kissed her fervently. + +"Oh, Charles!" + +"As an earnest of a brother's love and care for you, Annabel, if you +object for the present to the other," I whispered. + +"Yes, yes; be a brother to me," she returned, with strange yearning. +"No other tie can now be ours." + +"My love, it _shall_ be." + +She rang for the urn, which Perry brought in, and then sat down to the +table. I placed myself opposite to her and drew the dry toast towards +me. "Mrs. Brightman prefers this, I believe; shall I prepare some for +her?" + +Annabel did not answer, and I looked up. She was struggling with her +tears again. "I fear mamma is not well enough to eat," she said, in a +stifled voice. + +"Annabel!" I suddenly exclaimed, a light flashing upon me: "your +mother is worse than you have confessed: it is her illness which is +causing you this pain." + +Far greater than any that had gone before was the storm of emotion +that shook her now. I rose in consternation and approached her, and +she buried her face in her hands. It was very singular. Annabel +Brightman was calm, sensible, open as the day. She seemed to-night to +have borrowed another character. Suddenly she rose, and nervously +putting my hand aside, walked once or twice up and down the room, +evidently to obtain calmness. Then she dried her eyes, and sat down +again to the tea-tray. I confess that I looked on in amazement. + +"Will you be kind enough to ring, Charles? Twice, please. It is for +Hatch." + +I did so, and returned to my seat. Hatch appeared in answer to her +signal. Annabel held the cup of tea she had poured out. + +"Mamma's tea, Hatch." + +"She won't take none, miss." + +It is impossible to resist the temptation of now and then giving the +grammar and idioms Hatch had brought from her country home, and had +never since attempted to alter or improve. But what Hatch lacked in +accuracy she made up in fluency, for a greater talker never flourished +under the sun. + +"If you could get her to drink a cup, it might do her good," pursued +Hatch's young mistress. "Take it up, and try." + +Hatch flirted round, giving me full view of her black streamers, and +brought forward a small silver waiter. "But 'twon't be of no manner +of use, Miss Annabel." + +"And here's some toast, Hatch," cried I. + +"Toast, sir! Missis wouldn't look at it. I might as well offer her a +piece of Ingy-rubbins to eat. Miss Annabel knows----" + +"The tea will be cold, Hatch; take it at once," interposed Miss +Annabel. + +"Annabel, who is attending your mamma? Mr. Close, I suppose." + +"Mr. Close. She never will have anyone else. I fear mamma must have +been ill for some time; but I have been so much away with Aunt Lucy +that I never noticed it before." + +"Ay; Hastings and your aunt will miss you. I suppose Mrs. Brightman +will not spare you now as she has hitherto done." + +Annabel bent her head over the tea-tray, and a burning colour dyed her +face. What had my words contained to call up the emotion? Presently +she suddenly rose and left the room, saying she must see whether the +tea had been taken. She returned with the empty cup, looking somewhat +more cheerful. + +"See, Charles, mamma _has_ taken it: I do believe she would take more +nourishment, if Hatch would only press it upon her. She is so very +weak and depressed." + +Annabel filled the cup again, and Hatch came in for it. "Suppose you +were to take up a little toast as well; mamma might eat it," suggested +Annabel, placing the cup on the waiter. + +"Oh, well, not to contrairy you, Miss Annabel," returned Hatch. "I +know what use it will be, though." + +She held out the waiter, and I was putting the small plate of toast +upon it, when screams arose from the floor above. Loud, piercing +screams; screams of fear or terror; and I felt sure that they came +from Mrs. Brightman. Hatch dropped the waiter on to the table, +upsetting the tea, and dashed out of the room. + +I thought nothing less than that Mrs. Brightman was on fire, and +should have been upstairs as speedily as Hatch; but Annabel darted +before me, closed the drawing-room door, and stood against it to +prevent my exit, her arms clasping mine in the extremity of agitation, +the shrieks above still sounding in our ears. + +"Charles, you must not go! Charles, stay here! I ask it of you in my +father's name." + +"Annabel, are you in your senses? Your mother may be on fire! She must +be on fire: do you not hear her screams?" + +"No; it is nothing of that sort. I know what it is. You could do no +good; only harm. I am in my own house--its mistress just now--and I +tell you that you must not go up." + +I looked down at Annabel. Her face was the hue of death, and though +she shook from head to foot, her voice was painfully imperative. The +screams died away. + +A sound of servants was heard in the hall, and Annabel turned to open +the door. "You will not take advantage of my being obliged to do so, +Charles?" she hurriedly whispered. "You will not attempt to go up?" + +She glided out and stood before the servants, arresting their progress +as she had arrested mine. "It is only a similar attack to the one +mamma had last night," she said, addressing them. "You know that it +arises from nervousness, and your going up would only increase it. She +prefers that Hatch alone should be with her; and if Hatch requires +help, she will ring." + +They moved away again slowly; and Annabel came back to the +drawing-room. + +"Charles," she said, "I am going upstairs. Pray continue your tea +without waiting for me; I will return as soon as possible." + +And all this time she was looking like a ghost and shaking like an +aspen leaf. + +I crossed to the fire almost in a dream and stood with my back to it. +My eyes were on the tea-table, but they were eyes that saw not. All +this seemed very strange. Something attracted my attention. It was the +tea that Hatch had spilt, slowly filtering down to the carpet. I rang +the bell to have it attended to. + +Perry answered the ring. Seeing what was wrong, he brought a cloth and +knelt down upon the carpet. I stood where I was, and looked on, my +mind far away. + +"Curious thing, sir, this illness of mistress's," he remarked. + +"Is it?" I dreamily replied. + +"The worst is, sir, I don't know how we shall pacify the maids," he +continued. "I and Hatch both told them last night what stupids they +were to take it up so, and that what missis saw could not affect them. +But now that she has seen it a second time--and of course there was no +mistaking the screams just now--they are turning rebellious over it. +The cook's the most senseless old thing in the world! She vows she +won't sleep in the house to-night; and if she carries out her threat, +sir, and goes away, she'll spread it all over the neighbourhood." + +Was Perry talking Sanscrit? It was about as intelligible to me as +though he had been. He was still over the carpet, and in +matter-of-fact tones which shook with his exertion, for he was a fat +man, and was rubbing vehemently, he continued: + +"I'm sure I couldn't have believed it. I wouldn't have believed it, +sir, but that I have been in the house and a witness to it, as one may +say; at any rate, heard the screams. For a more quieter, amiabler, and +peaceabler man never lived than my master, kind to all about him, and +doing no harm to anybody; and why he should 'Walk' is beyond our +comprehension." + +"Why he should--what?" I exclaimed. + +"Walk, sir," repeated Perry. "Hatch says it's no doubt on account of +his dying a sudden death; that he must have left something untold, and +won't be laid till he has told it. It's apparent, I take it, that it +concerns Mrs. Brightman, by his appearing to her." + +"What is it that has appeared to Mrs. Brightman?" I asked, doubting my +ears. + +Perry arrested his occupation, and raised himself to look at me. "My +dead master, sir," he whispered mysteriously. "Master's ghost." + +"Your master's--ghost!" I echoed. + +"Yes, sir. But I thought my young lady had told you." + +I felt an irreverent inclination to laugh, in spite of the serious +surroundings of the topic. Ghosts and I had never had any affinity +with each other. I had refused to believe in them as a child, and most +unhesitatingly did so as a man. When I returned "The Old English +Baron" to Annabel, some years before, she wished she had never lent it +to me, because I declined to accept the ghost. + +"I am sure, sir, I never supposed but what Miss Annabel must have +imparted it to you," repeated Perry, as if doubting his own discretion +in having done so. "But somebody ought to know it, if it's only to +advise; and who so fit as you, sir, master's friend and partner? _I_ +should send for a clergyman, and let him try to lay it; that's what I +should do." + +"Perry, my good man," and I looked at his bald head and rotund form, +"you are too old, and I should have thought too sensible, to believe +in ghosts. How can you possibly listen for a moment to stories so +absurd as these?" + +"Well, sir," argued Perry, "my mistress did see it or she didn't; and +if she didn't, why should she scream and say she did? You heard her +screams just now; and they were worse yesterday." + +"Did you see the ghost?" + +"No, sir; I was not up there. Hatch thought she saw it as she went +into the room. It was in a corner, and wore its shroud: but when we +got up there it was gone." + +"When was all this?" + +"Last night, sir. When you left, Miss Annabel took off her bonnet in +the drawing-room and rang for tea, which I carried in. Presently Hatch +ran in at the front door, and Miss Annabel told me to call her in. +'Has mamma had her tea, Hatch?' said my young lady. 'Yes, she has,' +returned Hatch; which was a downright falsehood, for she had not had +any. But Hatch is master and missis too, as far as we servants go, and +nobody dares contradict her. Perhaps she only said it to keep Mrs. +Brightman undisturbed, for she knows her ailments and her wants and +ways better than Miss Annabel. So, sir, I went down, and Hatch went +up, but not, it seems, into Mrs. Brightman's room, for she thought she +was asleep. In two or three minutes, sir, the most frightful shrieks +echoed through the house; those to-night were nothing half as bad. +Hatch was first in the chamber, Miss Annabel next, and we servants +last. My mistress stood at the foot of the bed, which she must have +left----" + +"Was she dressed?" I interrupted. + +"No, sir; she was in her night-gown, or a dressing-gown it might have +been. She looked like--like--I don't hardly know what to say she +looked like, Mr. Strange, but as one might suppose anybody would look +who had seen a ghost. She was not a bit like herself. Her eyes were +starting and her face was red with terror; almost all alight, as one +may say; indeed, she looked mad. As to her precise words, sir, I can't +tell you what they were, for when we gathered that it was master's +ghost which she had seen, appearing in its shroud in the corner by the +wardrobe, the women servants set up a cry and ran away. That stupid +cook went into hysterics, and declared she wouldn't stop another night +in the house." + +"What was done with Mrs. Brightman?" + +"Miss Annabel--she seemed terrified out of her senses, too, poor young +lady--bade me hasten for Mr. Close; but Hatch put in her word and +stopped me, and said the first thing to be done was to get those +shrieking maids downstairs. Before I and John had well done it--and +you'd never have forgot it, sir, had you seen 'em hanging on to our +coat tails--Hatch followed us down, bringing her mistress's orders +that Mr. Close was not to be fetched; and indeed, as Hatch remarked, +of what use could a doctor be in a ghost affair? But this morning Miss +Annabel sent for him." + +"Mrs. Brightman must have had a dream, Perry." + +"Well, sir, I don't know; it might have been; but she is not one given +to dreams and fancies. And she must have had the same dream again +now." + +"Not unlikely. But there's no ghost, Perry; take my word for it." + +"I hope it will be found so, sir," returned Perry, shaking his head as +he retired; for he had done his work and had no further pretext for +lingering. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +SOMEONE ELSE SEEN. + + +Standing with my back to the fire in the drawing-room, waiting for +Annabel's return, the tea growing cold on the table, I puzzled over +what I had just heard, and could make nothing of it. That Mr. +Brightman's spirit should appear to his wife seemed to be utterly +incomprehensible; was, of course, incredible. That many people +believed in the reappearance of the dead, I well knew; but I had not +yet made up my mind to become one of them. + +It was inexplicable that a woman in this enlightened age, moving in +Mrs. Brightman's station, could yield to so strange a delusion. But, +allowing that she had done so, did this sufficiently explain Annabel's +deep-seated grief? or the remark that her grief would end only with +her life? or the hint that she could never be my wife? And why should +she refuse to confide these facts to me? why, indeed, have prevented +my going upstairs? I might have reassured Mrs. Brightman far more +effectually than Hatch; who, by Perry's account, was one of the +believers in the ghost theory. It was altogether past comprehension, +and I was trying hard to arrive at a solution when Hatch came in, her +idioms in full play. + +"My young lady's complemens, sir, and will you excuse her coming down +again to-night? she is not equal to seeing nobody. And she says truth, +poor child," added Hatch, "for she's quite done over." + +"How is your mistress now, Hatch?" + +"Oh, she's better, she is. Her nerves have been shook, sir, of late, +you know, through the shock of master's unexpected death, and in +course she starts at shadders. I won't leave the room again, without +the gas a-burning full on." + +"What is this tale about Mr. Brightman?" + +Hatch and her streamers swung round, and she closed the door before +answering. "Miss Annabel never told you _that_; did she, sir?" + +"No; but I have heard a word or two elsewhere. You fancy you saw a +ghost?" + +"Missis do." + +"Oh, I thought you did also." + +"I just believe it's a delusion of hers, Mr. Charles, and nothing +more," returned Hatch confidently. "If master had been a bad sort of +character, or had taken his own life, or anything of that, why, the +likelihood is that he might have walked, dying sudden. But being what +he was, a Christian gentleman that never missed church, and said his +own prayers at home on his knees regular--which I see him a doing of +once, when I went bolt into his dressing-room, not beknowing he was +in it--why, it is not likely, sir, that he comes again. I don't say as +much to them downstairs; better let them be frightened at his ghost +than at--at--anybody else's. I wish it was master's ghost, and nothing +worse," abruptly concluded Hatch. + +"Nothing worse! Some of you would think that bad enough, were it +possible for it to appear." + +"Yes, sir, ghosts is bad enough, no doubt. But realities is worse." + +So it was of no use waiting. I finished my cup of cold tea, and turned +to go, telling Hatch that I would come again the following evening to +see how things were progressing. + +"Yes, do, Mr. Charles; you had better," assented Hatch, who had a +habit, not arising from want of respect, but from her long and +confidential services, and the plenitude of her attachment, of +identifying herself with the family in the most unceremonious manner. +"Miss Annabel's life hasn't been a bed of roses since this ghost +appeared, and I fear it is not likely to be, and if there's anybody +that can say a word to comfort her, it must be you, sir; for in course +I've not had my eyes quite blinded. Eyes is eyes, sir, and has their +sight in 'em, and we can't always shut 'em, if we would." + +Hatch was crossing the hall to open the door for me, and I had taken +my great-coat from the stand, when Annabel flew down the stairs, her +face white, her voice sharp with terror. + +"Hatch! Hatch! mamma is frightened again!" + +Hatch ran up, two stairs at a time, and I went after her. Mrs. +Brightman had followed Annabel, and now stood outside her chamber-door +in her white dressing-gown, trembling violently. "He is watching me +again," she panted: "he stands there in his grave-clothes!" + +"Don't you come," cried Hatch, putting Annabel back unceremoniously. +"I shall get my missis round best alone; I'm not afraid of no +ghostesses, not I. Give a look to her, sir," she added, pointing to +Annabel, as she drew Mrs. Brightman into her chamber, and fastened the +door. + +Annabel, her hands clasped on her chest, shook as she stood. I put my +arm round her waist and took her down to the drawing-room. I closed +the door, and Annabel sat down on the sofa near the fire. + +"My darling, how can I comfort you?" + +A burst of grief prevented her from replying--grief that I had rarely +witnessed. I let it spend itself; you can do nothing else with emotion +so violent: and when it was over I sat down beside her. + +"Annabel, you might have confided this to me at first. It can be +nothing but a temporary delusion of Mrs. Brightman's, arising from a +relaxed state of the nervous system. Imaginary spectral +appearances----" + +"Who told you about that?" she interrupted, in agitation. "How came +you to hear it?" + +"My dear, I heard it from Perry. But he did not break faith in +speaking of it, for he thought you had already told me. There can be +no reason why I should not know it; but I am sorry that it has +penetrated to the servants." + +Poor Annabel laid her head on the arm of the sofa, and moaned. + +"I do not like to leave you or Mrs. Brightman either, in this +distress. Shall I remain in the house to-night? I can send a message +to Leah----" + +"Oh no, no," she hastily interrupted, as if the proposal had startled +her. And then she continued slowly, hesitatingly, pausing between her +words: "You do not--of course--believe that--that papa----" + +"Of course I do not," was my hearty reply, relieving her from her +embarrassing question. "Nor you either, Annabel: although, as a child, +you devoured every ghost-story you came near." + +She made no confirmatory reply, only looked down, and kept silence. I +gazed at her wonderingly. + +"It terrified me so much last night," she whispered. + +"What terrified you, Annabel?" + +"I was terrified altogether; at mamma's screams, at her words, at the +nervous state she was in. Mr. Close has helped to frighten me, too, +for I heard him say this morning to Hatch that such cases have been +known to end in madness." + +"Mr. Close is not worth a rush," cried I, suppressing what I had been +about to utter impulsively. "So he knows of this fancy?" + +"Yes, Hatch told him. Indeed, Charles, I do not see that there was any +help for it." + +"He will observe discretion, I suppose. Still, I almost wish you had +called in someone who is a stranger to the neighbourhood." + +"Mamma will not have a stranger, and you know we must not act in +opposition to her will. She seemed so much better this morning; quite +herself again." + +"Of course. With the return of daylight these fancies subside. But as +it seems there is nothing I can do for you, Annabel, I must be going, +and will come again to-morrow evening." + +The conclusion seemed to startle her. "Had--you--better come?" she +cried, with much hesitation. + +"Yes, Annabel, I had better come," I firmly replied. "And I cannot +understand why you should wish me not to do so, as I can see you do." + +"Only--if mamma should be ill again--it is all so uncomfortable. I +dare say you never even finished your tea," glancing at the table. All +trivial excuses, to conceal her real and inexplicable motive, I felt +certain. "Good-night, Charles." + +She held out her hand to me. I did not take it: I took her instead, +and held her to my heart. "You are not yourself to-night, Annabel, for +there is some further mystery in all this, and you will not tell it +me. But the time will soon come, my dearest, when our mysteries and +our sorrows must be shared in common." And all the answer I received +was a look of despair. + +In passing through the iron gates, I met Mr. Close. The moon to-night +was obscured by clouds, but the gas-lamps revealed us plainly to each +other. "How is Mrs. Brightman?" he asked. + +"Very ill and very strange," I answered. "Do you apprehend any serious +result?" + +"Well--no," said he; "not immediately. Of course, it will tell upon +her in the long-run." + +"She has had another attack of nervous terror to-night; in fact, two +attacks." + +"Ay; seen the ghost again, I suppose. I suspected she would, so +thought I would just call in." + +"Would it not be as well--excuse me, Mr. Close, but you are aware how +intimately connected I was with Mr. Brightman--to call in a +consultation? Not that there is the slightest doubt of your skill and +competency, but it appears to be so singular a malady; and in the +multitude of counsellors there is safety, you know." + +"It is the commonest malady we have to deal with," returned he; and +the answer was so unexpected that I could only stare in silence. + +"Have a consultation if you think it more satisfactory, Mr. Strange. +But it will not produce the slightest benefit; and the less this +matter is allowed to transpire the better. I assure you that all the +faculty combined could not do more for Mrs. Brightman than I am doing. +It is a lamentable disease, but it is one that must run its course." + +He went on to the house, and I got outside an omnibus that was passing +the end of the road, and lighted my cigar, more at sea than ever. If +seeing ghosts was the commonest malady doctors had to deal with, where +had I lived all my life not to have learned it? + +The next afternoon I was surprised by a visit from Perry. He brought +word from his mistress that she was very much better, though not yet +able to see me on business matters; when she felt equal to it, she +would let me know. Miss Annabel, concluded the butler, was gone to +Hastings. + +"To Hastings!" I exclaimed. + +"Well, yes, sir. My mistress decided upon it this morning, and I have +just seen her off by train, with Sarah in attendance on her. Fact is, +sir," added Perry, dropping his voice to a confidential key: "Hatch +whispered to me that it was thought best the poor young lady should be +out of the house while it is so troubled." + +"Troubled!" I repeated, half in scorn. + +"Why, yes, sir, you know what it is that's in it," rejoined Perry +simply. "Mr. Close, too, he said Miss Annabel ought to be away from it +just now." + + * * * * * + +When every hour of the day is occupied, time glides on insensibly. A +week passed. I heard no news of or from Mrs. Brightman, and did not +altogether care to intrude upon her, unbidden. But when the second +week was also quickly passing, I determined to take an evening to go +to Clapham. Dinner over, I was going downstairs, and met Leah coming +up. + +"If anyone calls, I am out for the evening, Leah," I said to her. "And +tell Watts when he comes in that I have left the _Law Times_ on the +table for Mr. Lake. He must take it round to him." + +"Very well, sir." + +I was nearing the top of Essex Street when I met the postman. + +"Anything for me?" I inquired, for I had expected an important letter +all day. + +"I think there is, sir," he replied, looking over his letters under +the gas-lamp. "'Messrs. Brightman and Strange;' there it is, sir." + +I opened it by the same light. It was the expected letter, and +required an immediate answer. So I returned, and letting myself in +with my latch-key, went into the front office to write it. + +Leah had not heard me come in. She was upstairs, deep in one of the +two favourite ballads which now appeared to comprise all her +collection. During office hours Leah was quiet as a mute; but in the +evening she would generally croon over one of these old songs in an +undertone, if she thought that I was out and she had the house to +herself. As she was thinking now, for she sang out in full key, but in +a doleful, monotonous sort of chant. Her voice was still very sweet, +but had lost much of the power of its earlier days. One of these two +songs was a Scotch fragment, beginning "Woe's me, for my heart is +breaking;" the other was "Barbara Allen." Fragmentary also, +apparently; for as Leah sang it there appeared to be neither beginning +nor ending to it. + + "And as she wandered up and down, + She heard the bells a-ringing, + And as they rang they seemed to say, + 'Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.' + + "She turned her body round and round, + She saw his corpse a-coming; + 'Oh, put him down by this blade's side, + That I may gaze upon him!' + + "The more she looked, the more she laughed, + The further she went from him; + Her friends they all cried out, 'For shame, + Hard-hearted Barbara Allen!'" + +Whether this is the correct version of the ballad or not, I do not +know; it was Leah's version. Many and many a time had I heard it; and +I was hearing it again this evening, when there came a quiet ring at +the door bell. My door was pushed to but not closed, and Leah came +bustling down. Barbara Allen was going on still, but in a more subdued +voice. + +"Do Mr. Strange live here?" was asked, when the door was opened. + +"Yes, he does," responded Leah. "He is out." + +"Oh, I don't want him, ma'am. I only wanted to know if he lived here. +What sort of a man is he?" + +"What sort of a man?" repeated Leah. "A very nice man." + +"Yes; but in looks, I mean." + +"Well, he is very good-looking. Blue eyes, and dark hair, and straight +features. Why do you want to know?" + +"Ay, that's him. But I don't know about the colour of his eyes; I +thought they was dark. Blue in one light and brown in another, maybe. +A tallish, thinnish man." + +"He's pretty tall; not what can be called a maypole. A little taller +than Mr. Brightman was." + +"Brightman and Strange, that's it? T'other's an old gent, I suppose?" +was the next remark; while I sat, amused at the colloquy. + +"He was not old. He is just dead. Have you any message?" + +"No, I don't want to leave a message; that's not my business. He told +me he lived here, and I came to make sure of it. A pleasant, sociable +man, ain't he; no pride about him, though he is well off and goes +cruising about in his own yacht." + +"No pride at all with those he knows, whether it's friends or +servants," returned Leah, forgetting her own pride, or at any rate her +discretion, in singing my praises. "Never was anybody pleasanter than +he. But as to a yacht----" + +"Needn't say any more, ma'am; it's the same man. Takes a short pipe +and a social dram occasionally, and makes no bones over it." + +"What?" retorted Leah indignantly. "Mr. Strange doesn't take drams or +smoke short pipes. If he just lights a cigar at night, when business +is over, it's as much as he does. He's a gentleman." + +"Ah," returned the visitor, his tones expressing a patronizing sort of +contempt for Leah's belief in Mr. Strange: "gents that is gents +indoors be not always gents out. Though I don't see why a man need be +reproached with not being a gent because he smokes a honest clay pipe, +and takes a drop short; and Mr. Strange does both, I can tell ye." + +"Then I know he does not," repeated Leah. "And if you knew Mr. +Strange, you wouldn't say it." + +"If I knew Mr. Strange! Perhaps I know him as well as you do, ma'am. +He don't come courting our Betsy without my knowing of him." + +"What do you say he does?" demanded Leah, suppressing her wrath. + +"Why, I say he comes after our Betsy; leastways, I'm a'most sure of +it. And that's why I wanted to know whether this was his house or not, +for I'm not a-going to have her trifled with. She's my only daughter, +and as good as he is. And now that I've got my information I'll say +good-night, ma'am." + +Leah shut the door, and I opened mine. "Who was that, Leah?" + +"My patience, Mr. Charles!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "I thought +you were out, sir." + +"I came in again. Who was that man at the door?" + +"Who's to know, sir--and what does it matter?" cried Leah. "Some +half-tipsy fellow who must have mistaken the house." + +"He did not speak as though he were tipsy at all." + +"You must have heard what he said, sir." + +"I heard." + +Leah turned away, but came back hesitatingly, a wistful expression in +her eyes. I believe she looked upon me as a boy still, and cared for +me as she did when I had been one. "It is not true, Mr. Charles?" + +"Of course it is not true, Leah. I neither take drams short, nor go +courting Miss Betsys." + +"Why, no, sir, of course not. I believe I must be getting old and +foolish, Mr. Charles. I should just like to wring that man's neck for +his impudence!" she concluded, as she went upstairs again. + +But what struck me was this: either that one of my clerks was playing +pranks in my name--passing himself off as Mr. Strange, to appear great +and consequential; and if so, I should uncommonly like to know which +of them it was--or else that something was being enacted by those +people who made the sorrow of Leah's life; that daughter of hers and +the husband--as we will call him. For the voice at the door had +sounded honest and the application genuine. + +Posting my letter, I made the best of my way to Clapham. But I had my +journey for nothing, and saw only Perry. His mistress had been getting +much better, he said, but a day or two ago she had a relapse and was +again confined to her room, unable to see anyone. Mr. Close had +ordered her to be kept perfectly quiet. Annabel remained at Hastings. + +"And what about that fright, Perry, that you were all so scared with a +fortnight ago?" I asked, as he strolled by my side back to the iron +gates: for it was useless for me to go in if I could not see Mrs. +Brightman. "Has the house got over it yet?" + +"Sir, it is in the house still," he gravely answered. + +"Do you mean the scare?" + +"I mean the ghost, sir. Poor master's spirit." + +I turned to look at his face, plainly enough to be discerned in the +dimness of the foggy night. It was no less grave than his words had +been. + +"The figure does not appear every night, sir; only occasionally," he +resumed; "and always in the same place--in the corner by the wardrobe +in Mrs. Brightman's bedroom. It stands there in its grave-clothes." + +What with the dark trees about us, the weird evening, and Perry's +shrinking tones, I slightly shivered, for all my unbelief. + +"But, Perry, it is _impossible_, you know. There must be delusion +somewhere. Mrs. Brightman's nerves have been unstrung by her husband's +death." + +"Hatch has seen it twice, Mr. Strange," he rejoined. "Nobody can +suspect Hatch of having nerves. The last time was on Sunday night. It +stood in its shroud, gazing at them--her and the mistress--with a +mournful face. Master's very own face, sir, Hatch says, just as it +used to be in life; only white and ghastly." + +It was a ghastly subject, and the words haunted me all the way back to +town. Once or twice I could have declared that I saw Mr. Brightman's +face, pale and wan, gazing at me through the fog. Certainly Hatch had +neither nerves nor fancies; no living woman within my circle of +acquaintance possessed less. What did it all mean? Where could the +mystery lie? + +Stirring the fire into a blaze when I got into my room, I sat before +it, and tried to think out the problem. But the more I tried, the more +effectually it seemed to elude me. + +With the whir-r-r that it always made, the clock on the mantelpiece +began to strike ten. I started. At the same moment, the door opened +slowly and noiselessly, and Leah glided in. Mysteriously, if I may so +express it: my chamber candlestick carried in one hand, her shoes in +the other. She was barefooted; and, unless I strangely mistook, her +face was as ghastly as the one Perry had been speaking of that night. + +Putting the candlestick on a side-table, slipping her feet into her +shoes, and softly closing the door, she turned to me. Her lips +trembled, her hands worked nervously; she seemed unable to speak. + +"Why, Leah!" I exclaimed, "what is the matter?" + +"Sir," she then said, in the deepest agitation; "I have seen to-night +that which has almost frightened me to death. I don't know how to tell +you about it. Watts has dropped asleep in his chair in the kitchen, +and I took the opportunity to steal up here. I wouldn't let him hear +it for the world. He is growing suspicious, fancying I'm a bit odd at +times. He'd be true in this, I know, but it may be as well to keep it +from him." + +"But what is it, Leah?" + +"When I saw him, I thought I should have dropped down dead," she went +on, paying no attention to the question. "He stood there with just the +same smile on his face that it used to wear. It was _himself_, sir; it +was, indeed." + +May I be forgiven for the folly that flashed over me. Occupied as my +mind was with the apparition haunting the house at Clapham, what could +I think but that Leah must have seen the same? + +"You mean Mr. Brightman," I whispered. + +"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, approaching nearer to me, whilst +glancing over her shoulder as if in dread that the ghost were +following her: "does _he_ come again, Mr. Charles? Have you seen him? +Is he in the house?" + +"No, no; but I thought you meant that, Leah. Who is it that you have +seen?" + +"Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +PROWLING ABOUT. + + +So the blow had fallen. What we were dreading had come to pass. Tom +Heriot was back again. + +I sat half-paralyzed with terror. Leah stood before me on the +hearthrug, pouring out her unwelcome disclosure with eager words now +that her first emotion had subsided. She went on with her tale more +coherently, but in undertones. + +"After you had gone out this evening, Mr. Charles, I was in the +kitchen, when one of those small handfuls of gravel I dread to hear +rattled against the window. 'Nancy,' I groaned, my heart failing me. I +could not go to the door, lest Watts should come up and see me, for I +expected him back every minute; and, sure enough, just then I heard +his ring. I gave him the _Law Times_, as you bade me, sir, telling him +he was to take it round to Mr. Lake at once. When he was gone I ran up +to the door and looked about, and saw Nancy in the shadow of the +opposite house, where she mostly stands when waiting for me. I could +not speak to her then, but told her I would try and come out +presently. Her eldest boy, strolling away with others at play, had +been run over by a cab somewhere in Lambeth; he was thought to be +dying; and Nancy had come begging and praying me with tears to go with +her to see him." + +"And you went, I suppose, Leah. Go on." + +"You know her dreadful life, Mr. Charles, its sorrows and its misery; +how could I find it in my heart to deny her? When Watts came back from +Mr. Lake's, I had my bonnet and shawl on. 'What, going out?' said he, +in surprise, and rather crossly--for I had promised him a game at +cribbage. 'Well,' I answered, 'I've just remembered that I have to +fetch those curtains home to-night that went to be dyed; and I must +hasten or the shop may be shut up. I've put your supper ready in case +they keep me waiting, but I dare say I shall not be long.'" + +To attempt to hurry Leah through her stories when once she had entered +upon them, was simply waste of words; so I listened with all the +patience I had at command. + +"The boy had been carried into a house down Lambeth way, and the +doctor said he must not be moved; but the damage was not as bad, sir, +as was at first thought, and I cheered Nancy up a bit by saying he +would get all right and well. I think he will. Leaving her with the +lad, I was coming back alone, when I missed my way. The streets are +puzzling just there, and I am not familiar with them. I thought I'd +ask at a book-stall, and went towards it. A sailor was standing +outside, fingering the books and talking to somebody inside that I +couldn't see. Mr. Charles, I had got within a yard of him, when I saw +who it was--and the fright turned me sick and faint." + +"You mean the sailor?" + +"Yes, sir, the sailor. It was Captain Heriot, disguised. Oh, sir, what +is to be done? The boy that I have often nursed upon my knee--what +will become of him if he should be recognised?" + +The very thought almost turned me sick and faint also, as Leah +expressed it. How could Tom be so foolhardy? An escaped convict, +openly walking about the streets of London! + +"Did he see you, Leah?" + +"No, sir; I stole away quickly; and the next turning brought me into +the right road again." + +"How did he look?" + +"I saw no change in him, sir. He wore a round glazed hat, and rough +blue clothes, with a large sailor collar, open at the throat. His +face was not hidden at all. It used to be clean-shaved, you know, +except the whiskers; but now the whiskers are gone, and he wears a +beard. That's all the difference I could see in him." + +Could this possibly be Tom? I scarcely thought so; scarcely thought +that even he would be as reckless of consequences. + +"Ah, Mr. Charles, do you suppose I could be mistaken in him?" cried +Leah, in answer to my doubt. "Indeed, sir, it was Captain Heriot. He +and the man inside--the master of the shop, I suppose--seemed talking +as if they knew one another, so Mr. Tom may have been there before. +Perhaps he is hiding in the neighbourhood." + +"Hiding!" I repeated, in pain. + +"Well, sir----" + +"Leah! have you gone up to bed?" + +The words came floating up the staircase in Watts's deep voice. Leah +hurried to the door. + +"I came up to bring the master's candle," she called out, as she went +down. "If you hadn't gone to sleep, you might have heard him ring for +it." + +All night I lay awake, tormented on the score of Tom Heriot. Now +looking at the worst side of things, now trying to see them at their +best, the hours dragged along, one after the other, until daybreak. In +spite of Leah's statement and her own certainty in the matter, my mind +refused to believe that the sailor she had seen could be Tom. Tom was +inconceivably daring; but not daring enough for this. He would have +put on a more complete disguise. At least, I thought so. + +But if indeed it was Tom--why, then there was no hope. He would +inevitably be recaptured. And this meant I knew not what of heavier +punishment for himself; and for the rest of us further exposure, +reflected disgrace, and mental pain. + +Resolving to go myself at night and reconnoitre, I turned to my day's +work. In the course of the morning a somewhat curious thing happened. +The old saying says that "In looking for one thing you find another," +and it was exemplified in the present instance. I was searching Mr. +Brightman's small desk for a paper that I thought might be there, and, +as I suppose, accidentally touched a spring, for the lower part of the +desk suddenly loosened, and I found it had a false bottom to it. +Lifting the upper portion, I found several small deeds of importance, +letters and other papers; and lying on the top of all was a small +packet, inscribed "Lady Clavering," in Mr. Brightman's writing. + +No doubt the letters she was uneasy about, and which I had hitherto +failed to find. But now, what was I to do? Give them back to her? +Well, no, I thought not. At any rate, not until I had glanced over +them. Their being in this secret division proved the importance +attaching to them. + +Untying the narrow pink ribbon that held them together, there fell out +a note of Sir Ralph Clavering's, addressed to Mr. Brightman. It was +dated just before his death, and ran as follows: + + I send you the letters I told you I had discovered. Read them, + and keep them safely. Should trouble arise with her after my + death, confront her with them. Use your own discretion about + showing them or not to my nephew Edmund. But should she + acquiesce in the just will I have made, and when all things are + settled on a sure foundation, then destroy the letters, unseen + by any eye save your own; I do not wish to expose her + needlessly.--R. C. + +Lady Clavering had not acquiesced in the will, and she was still going +on with her threatened and most foolish action. I examined the +letters. Some were written _to_ her; not by her husband, though; some +were written _by_ her: and, take them for all in all, they were about +as damaging a series as any it was ever my fate to see. + +"The senseless things these women are!" thought I. "How on earth came +she to preserve such letters as these?" + +I sent a messenger for Sir Edmund Clavering. Mr. Brightman was to use +his own discretion: I hardly thought any was left to me. It was more +Sir Edmund's place to see them than mine. He came at once. + +"By George!" he exclaimed, when he had read two or three of them, his +handsome face flushing, his brow knit in condemnation. "What a +despicable woman! We have the cause in our own hands now." + +"Yes; she cannot attempt to carry it further." + +We consulted a little as to the best means of making the truth known +to Lady Clavering--an unthankful office that would fall to me--and Sir +Edmund rose to leave. + +"Keep the letters safely," he said; almost in the very words Sir Ralph +had written. "Do not bring them within a mile of her hands: copies, if +she pleases, as many as she likes. And when things are upon a safe +footing, as my uncle says, and there's no longer anything to fear from +her, then they can be destroyed." + +"Yes. Of course, Sir Edmund," I continued, in some hesitation, "she +must be spared to the world. This discovery must be held sacred +between us----" + +"Do you mean that as a caution?" he interrupted in surprise. "Why, +Strange, what do you take me for?" + +He clasped my hand with a half-laugh, and went out. Yes, Lady +Clavering had contrived to damage herself, but it would never +transpire to her friends or her enemies. + +Leah had noticed the name of the street containing the book-stall, and +when night came I put on a discarded old great-coat and slouching hat, +and set out for it. It was soon found: a narrow, well-frequented +street, leading out of the main thoroughfare, full of poor shops, +patronized by still poorer customers. + +The book-stall was on the right, about half-way down the street. +Numbers of old books lay upon a board outside, lighted by a flaring, +smoking tin lamp. Inside the shop they seemed chiefly to deal in +tobacco and snuff. Every now and then the master of the shop--whose +name, according to the announcement above the shop, must be Caleb +Lee--came to the door to look about him, or to answer the questions of +some outside customer touching the books. But as yet I saw no sign of +Tom Heriot. + +Opposite the shop, on the other side the way, was a dark entry; into +that entry I ensconced myself to watch. + +Tired of this at last, I marched to the end of the street, crossed +over, strolled back on the other side the way, and halted at the +book-stall. There I began to turn the books about: anything to while +away the time. + +"Looking for any book in particular, sir?" + +I turned sharply at the question, which came from the man Lee. The +voice sounded familiar to my ear. Where had I heard it? + +"You have not an old copy of the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' I +suppose?"--the work flashing into my mind by chance. + +"No, sir. I had one, but it was bought last week. There's 'Fatherless +Fanny,' sir; that's a very nice book; it was thought a deal of some +years ago. And there's the 'Water Witch,' by Cooper. That's good, +too." + +I remembered the voice now. It was that of Leah's mysterious visitor +of the night before, who had been curiously inquisitive about me. +Recognition came upon me with a shock, and opened up a new fear. + +Taking the "Water Witch"--for which I paid fourpence--I walked on +again. Could it be possible that _Tom Heriot_ was passing himself off +for me? Why, this would be the veriest folly of all. But no; that was +altogether impossible. + +Anxious and uneasy, I turned about again and again. The matter ought +to be set at rest, yet I knew not how to do it. + +I entered the shop, which contained two small counters: the one +covered with papers, the other with smoking gear. Lee stood behind the +former, serving a customer, who was inquiring for last week's number +of the _Fireside Friend_. Behind the other counter sat a young girl, +pretty and modest. I turned to her. + +"Will you give me a packet of bird's-eye?" + +"Yes, sir," she answered in pleasant tones; and, opening a drawer, +handed me the tobacco, ready wrapped up. It would do for Watts. +Bird's-eye, I knew, was his favourite mixture. + +"Thank you, sir," she said, returning me the change out of a florin. +"Anything else, sir?" + +"Yes; a box of wax matches." + +But the matches were not to be found, and the girl appealed to her +father. + +"Wax matches," returned the man from across the shop. "Why, they are +on the shelf behind you, Betsy." + +The matches were found, the girl took the money for them, and thanked +me again. All very properly and modestly. The girl was evidently as +modest and well-behaved as a girl could be. + +So that was Betsy! But who was it that was courting her in my name? +One of my office clerks--or Captain Thomas Heriot? + +Captain Thomas Heriot did not make his appearance, and I began to hope +that Leah had been mistaken. It grew late. I was heartily tired, and +turned to make my way home. + +Why I should have looked round I cannot tell, but I did look round +just as I reached the end of the street. Looming slowly up in the +distance was a sailor, with a sailor's swaying walk, and he turned +into the shop. + +I turned back also, all my pulses quickened. I did not follow him in, +for we might have betrayed ourselves. I stood outside, occupied with +the old books again, and pulled the collar of my coat well up, and my +hat well down. Not here must there be any mutual recognition. + +How long did he mean to stay there? For ever? He and Lee seemed to be +at the back of the shop, talking together. I could not hear the voices +sufficiently to judge whether one of them was that of Tom Heriot. + +He was coming now! Out he came, puffing at a fresh-lighted pipe, his +glazed hat at the back of his head, his face lifted to the world. + +"Tell you we shall, master. Fine to-morrow? not a bit of it. Rain as +sure as a gun. This dampness in the air is a safe sign on't. Let a +sailor alone for knowing the weather." + +"At sea, maybe," retorted Caleb Lee. "But I never yet knew a sailor +who wasn't wrong about the weather on shore. Good-night, sir." + +"Good-night to you, master," responded the sailor. + +He lounged slowly away. It was not Tom Heriot. About his build and his +fair complexion, but shorter than Tom. A real, genuine Jack-tar, +this, unmistakably. Was he the man Leah had seen? This one wore no +beard, but bushy, drooping whiskers. + +"Looking for another book, sir?" + +In momentary confusion, I caught up the book nearest to hand. It +proved to be "Fatherless Fanny," and I said I'd take it. While +searching for the money, I remarked that the sailor, just gone away, +had said we should have rain to-morrow. + +"I don't see that he is obliged to be right, though he was so positive +over it," returned the man. "I hate a rainy day: spoils our custom. +Thankye, sir. Sixpence this time. That's right." + +"Do many sailors frequent this neighbourhood?" + +"Not many; we've a sprinkling of 'em sometimes. They come over here +from the Kent Road way." + +Well, and what else could I ask? Nothing. And just then a voice came +from the shop. + +"Father," called out Miss Betsy, "is it not time to shut up?" + +"What do you ask? Getting a little deaf, sir, in my old age. Coming, +Betsy." + +He turned into the shop, and I walked away for the night: hoping, ah! +how earnestly, that Leah had been mistaken. + + * * * * * + +"Mr. Strange, my lord." + +It was the following evening. Restlessly anxious about Tom Heriot, I +betook myself to Gloucester Place as soon as dinner was over, to ask +Major Carlen whether he had learnt anything further. The disreputable +old man was in some way intimate with one or two members of the +Government. To my surprise, Sanders, Lord Level's servant, opened the +door to me, and showed me to the dining-room. Lord Level sat there +alone over his after-dinner claret. + +"You look as if you hardly believed your eyes, Charles," he laughed as +he shook hands. "Sit down. Glasses, Sanders." + +"And surprised I may well look to see you here, when I thought you +were in Paris," was my answer. + +"We came over to-day; got here an hour ago. Blanche was very ill in +crossing and has gone to bed." + +"Where is Major Carlen?" + +"Oh, he is off to Jersey to see his sister, Mrs. Guy. At least, that +is what he said; but he is not famous for veracity, you know, and it +is just as likely that he may be catching the mail train at London +Bridge _en route_ for Homburg, as the Southampton train from Waterloo. +Had you been half an hour earlier, you might have had the pleasure of +assisting at his departure. I have taken this house for a month, and +paid him in advance," added Lord Level, as much as to say that the +Major was not altogether out of funds. + +A short silence ensued. The thoughts of both of us were no doubt busy. +Level, his head bent, was slowly turning his wine-glass round by its +stem. + +"Charles," he suddenly said, in a half-whisper, "what of Tom Heriot?" + +I hardly knew how to take the question. + +"I know nothing more of him," was my answer. + +"Is he in London, think you? Have you heard news of him, in any way?" + +Now I could not say that I had heard news: for Leah's information was +not news, if (as I hoped) she was mistaken. And I judged it better not +to speak of it to Lord Level until the question was set at rest. Why +torment him needlessly? + +"I wrote you word what Major Carlen said: that Tom was one of those +who escaped. The ship was wrecked upon an uninhabited island, believed +to be that of Tristan d'Acunha. After a few days some of the convicts +contrived to steal a boat and make good their escape. Of course they +were in hope of being picked up by some homeward-bound ship, and may +already have reached England." + +"Look here," said Lord Level, after a pause: "that island lies, no +doubt, in the track of ships bound to the colonies, but not in the +track of those homeward-bound. So the probability is, that if the +convicts were sighted and picked up, they would be carried further +from England, not brought back to it." + +I confess that this view had not occurred to me; in fact, I knew very +little about navigation, or the courses taken by ships. It served to +strengthen my impression that Leah had been in error. + +"Are you sure of that?" I asked him. + +"Sure of what?" returned Lord Level. + +"That the island would be out of the track of homeward-bound vessels." + +"Quite sure. Homeward-bound vessels come round Cape Horn. Those bound +for the colonies go by way of the Cape of Good Hope." + +"My visit here to-night was to ask Major Carlen whether he had heard +any further particulars." + +"I think he heard a few more to-day," said Lord Level. "The +_Vengeance_ was wrecked, it seems, on this island. It is often sighted +by ships going to the colonies, and the captain was in hope that his +signals from the island would be seen, and some ship would bear down +to them. In vain. After the convicts--five of them, I believe--had +made their escape, he determined to send off the long-boat, in charge +of the chief officer, to the nearest Australian coast, for assistance. +On the 10th of December the boat set sail, and on Christmas Day was +picked up by the _Vernon_, which reached Melbourne the last day of the +year." + +"But how do you know all these details?" I interrupted in surprise. + +"They have been furnished to the Government, and Carlen was informed +of them this morning," replied Lord Level. "On the following day, the +1st of January, the ship _Lightning_ sailed from Melbourne for +England; she was furnished with a full account of the wreck of the +_Vengeance_ and what succeeded to it. The _Lightning_ made a good +passage home, and on her arrival laid her reports before the +Government. That's how it is." + +"And what of the escaped convicts?" + +"Nothing is known of them. The probability is that they were picked up +by an outward-bound ship and landed in one of the colonies. If not, +they must have perished at sea." + +"And if they were so picked up and landed, I suppose they would have +reached England by this time?" + +"Certainly--seeing that the _Lightning_ has arrived. And the convicts +had some days' start of the long-boat. I hope Tom Heriot will not make +his way here!" fervently spoke Lord Level. "The consequences would +three-parts kill my wife. No chance of keeping it from her in such a +hullabaloo as would attend his recapture." + +"I cannot think how you have managed to keep it from her as it is." + +"Well, I have been watchful and cautious--and we have not mixed much +with the gossiping English. What! are you going, Charles?" + +"Yes, I have an engagement," I answered, as we both rose. "Good-night. +Give my love to Blanche. Tell her that Charley will see her to-morrow +if he can squeeze out a minute's leisure for it." + +Taking up the old coat I had left in the passage, I went out with it +on my arm, hailed a cab that was crossing Portman Square and was +driven to Lambeth. There I recommenced my watch upon the book-stall +and the street containing it, not, however, disclosing myself to Lee +that night. But nothing was to be seen of Tom Heriot. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MRS. BRIGHTMAN. + + +"Sur this coms hoppin youle excuse blundurs bein no skollerd sur +missis is worse and if youle com ive got som things to tell you I +darnt keep um any longer your unbil servint emma hatch but doant say +to peri as i sent." + +This remarkable missive was delivered to me by the late afternoon +post. The schoolmaster must have been abroad when Hatch received her +education. + +I had intended to spend the evening with Blanche. It was the day +subsequent to her arrival from France with Lord Level, and I had not +yet seen her. But this appeared to be something like an imperative +summons, and I resolved to attend to it. + +"The more haste, the less speed." The proverb exemplifies itself very +frequently in real life. Ordering my dinner to be served half an hour +earlier than usual, I had no sooner eaten it than a gentleman called +and detained me. It was close upon eight o'clock when I reached +Clapham. + +Perry, the butler, received me as usual. "Oh, sir, such a house of +sickness as it is!" he exclaimed, leading the way to the drawing-room. +"My mistress is in bed with brain-fever. They were afraid of it +yesterday, but it has quite shown itself to-day. And Miss Annabel is +still at Hastings. I say she ought to be sent for; Hatch says not, and +tells me to mind my own business: but----" + +Hatch herself interrupted the sentence. She came into the room and +ordered Perry out of it. The servants, even Perry, had grown into the +habit of obeying her. Closing the door, she advanced to me as I stood +warming my hands at the fire, for it was a sharp night. + +"Mr. Strange, sir," she began in a low tone, "did you get that epistle +from me?" + +I nodded. + +"You've not been down here much lately, sir. Last night I thought you +might come, the night afore I thought it. The last time you did come +you never stepped inside the door." + +"Where is the use of coming, Hatch, when I am always told that Mrs. +Brightman cannot see me--and that Miss Annabel remains at Hastings?" + +"And a good thing that she do remain there," returned Hatch. "Perry, +the gaby, says, 'Send for Miss Annabel: why don't you write for Miss +Annabel?' But that his brains is no bigger than one o' them +she-gooses' on Newland Common, he'd have found out why afore now. +Sir," continued Hatch, changing her tone, "I want to know what I be to +do. I'm not a person of edication or book-learning, but my wits is +alive, and they serves me instead. For this two or three days past, +sir, I've been thinking that I ought to tell out to somebody +responsible what it is that's the matter with my missis, and I know of +nobody nearer the family than you, sir. There's her brother, in +course, at the Hall, Captain Chantrey, but my missis has held herself +aloof from him and Lady Grace, and I know she'd be in a fine way if I +spoke to him. Three or four days ago I said to myself, 'The first time +I see Mr. Strange, I'll tell him the truth.' Last night she was worse +than she has been at all, quite raving. I got frightened, which is a +complaint I'm not given to, and resolved not to let another day pass, +and then, whether she lived or died, the responsibility would not lie +upon my back." + +Straightening myself, I stood gazing at Hatch. She had spoken rapidly. +If I had caught all the words, I did not catch their meaning. + +"Yes?" I said mechanically. + +"And so, with morning light, sir, I wrote you that epistle." + +"Yes, yes; never mind all that. What about Mrs. Brightman?" + +Hatch dropped her voice to a lower and more mysterious whisper. "Sir, +my missis gives way, she do." + +"Gives way," I repeated, gazing at Hatch, and still unable to see any +meaning in the words. "What do you say she does?" + +Hatch took a step forward, which brought her on the hearthrug, close +to me. "Yes, sir; missis gives way." + +"Gives way to what?" I reiterated. "To her superstitious fancies?" + +"No, sir, to stimilinks." + +"To----" The meaning, in spite of Hatch's obscure English, dawned upon +me now. A cold shiver ran through me. Annabel's mother! and honoured +Henry Brightman's wife! + +"She takes stimulants!" I gasped. + +"Yes, sir; stimilinks," proceeded Hatch. "A'most any sort that comes +anigh her. She likes wine and brandy best; but failing them, she'll +drink others." + +Question upon question rose to my mind. Had it been known to Mr. +Brightman? Had it been a prolonged habit? Was it deeply indulged in? +But Annabel was her child, and my lips refused to utter them. + +"It has been the very plague of my life and my master's to keep it +private these many months past," continued Hatch. "'Hatch does this in +the house, and Hatch does the other,' the servants cry. Yes; but my +master knew why I set up my authority; and missis knew it too. It was +to screen her." + +"How could she have fallen into the habit?" + +"It has grown upon her by degrees, sir. A little at first, and a +little, and then a little more. As long as master was here, she was +kept tolerably in check, but since his death there has been nobody to +restrain her, except me. Whole days she has been in her room, shutting +out Miss Annabel, under the excuse of headaches or lowness, drinking +all the time; and me there to keep the door. I'm sure the black +stories I have gone and invented, to pacify Miss Annabel and put her +off the right scent, would drive a parson to his prayers." + +"Then Miss Annabel does not know it?" + +"She do now," returned Hatch. "The first night there was that +disturbance in the house about missis seeing the ghost, her room was +thrown open in the fright, and all the house got in. I turned the +servants out: I dared not turn out Miss Annabel, and she couldn't fail +to see that her mother was the worse for drink. So then I told her +some, and Mr. Close told her more next morning." + +Annabel's strange grief, so mysterious to me, was accounted for now. +Hatch continued: + +"You see now, sir, why Miss Annabel has been kept so much at Hastings. +Master would never have her at home for long together, afeared her +mother might betray herself. He wanted to keep the child in ignorance +of it, as long as it was possible. Miss Brightman knew it. She found +it out the last time she was visiting here; and she begged my missis +on her bended knees to be true to herself and leave it off. Missis +promised--and such a bout of crying they two had together afore Miss +Lucy went away! For a time she did get better; but it all came back +again. And then came master's death--and the shock and grief of that +has made her give way more than she ever did. And there it is, sir. +The secret's got too weighty for me; I couldn't keep it to myself any +longer." + +"Perry says Mrs. Brightman is now lying ill with brain-fever." + +"We call it brain-fever to the servants, me and Mr. Close; it's near +enough for them," was Hatch's cool reply. "The curious thing is that +Perry don't seem to suspect; he sees more of his missis than the rest +do, and many a time must have noticed her shaking. Last night her fit +of shaking was dreadful--and her fever too, for the matter of that. +She is as close as she well can be upon that disorder that comes of +drink. If it goes on to a climax, nothing can save the disgrace from +coming out downstairs." + +Nothing could or would save it, in my opinion, downstairs or up, +indoors or out. What a calamity! + +"But she is a trifle better to-night," continued Hatch. "The medicines +have taken effect at last, and put her into a deep sleep, or else I +couldn't be talking here." + +"Did you invent the episode of Mr. Brightman's ghost, Hatch, by way of +accounting for Mrs. Brightman's state to the servants?" I inquired. + +"_I_ invent it!" returned Hatch. "I didn't invent it. My missis did +see it. Not, I take it, that there was any ghost to see, in one sense; +but when these poor creatures is in the shakes, they fancy they see +all kinds of things--monkeys and demons, and such-like. I can't +believe it was master. I don't see why he should come back, being a +good man; and good men that die in peace be pretty sure to rest in +their graves. Still, I'd not be too sure. It may be that he comes +back, as my missis fancies, to silently reproach her. It's odd that +she always sees him in the same place, and in his shroud. Several +times she has seen him now, and her description of how he looks never +varies. Nothing will ever persuade her, sick or well, that it is +fancy." + +"You have seen him also, I hear?" + +"Not I," said Hatch. "I have upheld what my missis says. For which was +best, Mr. Strange, sir--to let the servants think she is shaking and +raving from fear of a ghost, or to let 'em get to suspect her the +worse for drink?" + +Hatch's policy had no doubt been wise in this. I told her so. + +"I have seen the shakes before to-day; was used to 'em when a child, +as may be said," resumed Hatch. "I had a step-uncle, sir, mother's +half-brother, who lived next door to us; he was give to drink, and he +had 'em now and then. Beer were his chief weakness; wine is missis's. +If that step-uncle of mine had been put to stand head downwards in a +beer barrel, Mr. Charles, he'd not have thought he had enough. He'd be +always seeing things, he would; blue and red and green imps that +crawled up his bed-posts, and horrid little black devils. He used to +start out of doors and run away for fear of 'em. Once he ran out stark +naked, all but his shoes; he tore past the cottages all down the +village, and flung himself into the pond opposite the stocks. All the +women watching him from their doors and windows followed after him. +The men thought it were at least a mad dog broke loose, seeing the +women in pursuit like that; whereas it were nothing but my step-uncle +in one of his bouts--stripped. Mrs. Brightman would never do such a +thing as that, being a lady; but they be all pretty much alike for +sense when the fit is on 'em." + +"And Mr. Brightman knew of this, you say? Knew that she was given +to--to like stimulants?" + +"He couldn't be off knowing of it, sir, habiting, as he did, the same +rooms: and it has just bittered his life out. She has never had a +downright bad attack, like this one, therefore we could hide it from +the servants and from Miss Annabel, but it couldn't be hided from him. +He first spoke to me about it six or seven months ago, when he was +having an iron bedstead put up in the little room close to hers; until +then he had made believe to me not to see it. Sometimes I know he +talked to her, all lovingly and persuasively, and I would see her with +red eyes afterwards. I once heard her say, 'I will try, Henry; indeed +I will;' and I do believe she did. But she got worse, and then master +spoke to Mr. Close." + +"Has it been long growing upon her?" I asked, in a low voice. + +"Sir," returned Hatch, looking at me with her powerful eyes, "it has +been growing for years and years. I think it came on, first, from +idleness----" + +"From idleness!" + +"I mean what I say, sir. She married master for a home, as it were, +and she didn't care for him. She cared for somebody else--but things +wouldn't work convenient, and they had to part. Miss Emma Chantrey was +high-born and beautiful, but she had no money, and the gentleman had +no money either, so it would not do. It was all over and done with +long before she knew Mr. Brightman. Well, sir, she married and come +home here. But she never liked the place; commercial, she said, these +neighbourhoods was, round London, and the people were beneath her. So +she wouldn't visit, and she wouldn't sew nor read; she'd just sit all +day long with her hands afore her, a-doing of nothing. I saw that as +soon as I took service here. 'Wait,' said I to myself, 'till the baby +comes.' Well, it came, sweet little Miss Annabel, but it didn't make a +pin's difference: missis got a maid for it, and then a governess, and +turned her over to them. No more babies followed; pity but what a +score of 'em had; they might have roused her from her apathy." + +"But surely she did not give way, as you call it, then?" + +"No, not then. She was just ate up with weariness; she found no +pleasure in life, and she did no work in it; when morning broke she'd +wish the day was over; and when night came she'd wish it was morning; +and so the years went by. Then she got to say--it come on quite +imperceptible--'Hatch, get me a glass of wine; I'm so low and +exhausted.' And I used to get her one, thinking nothing. She took it +then, just because she wanted something to rouse her, and didn't know +what. That was the beginning of it, Mr. Charles." + +"A very unfortunate beginning." + +"But," continued Hatch, "after a while, she got to like the wine, and +in course o' time she couldn't do without it; a glass now and a glass +then between her meals, besides what she took with them, and it was a +great deal; pretty nigh a bottle a-day I fancy, altogether. Master +couldn't make out how it was his wine went, and he spoke sharp to +Perry; and when missis found that, she took to have some in on her own +account, unbeknowing to him. Then it grew to brandy. Upon the +slightest excuse, just a stitch in her side, or her finger aching, she +would say, 'Hatch, I must have half a glass of hot brandy-and-water.' +Folks don't stop at the first liquor, sir, when it gets to that pitch; +my step-uncle would have swallowed vitriol sooner than have kept to +beer." + +"Hatch, this is a painful tale." + +"And I've not finished of it," was Hatch's response. "Missis had an +illness a year or eighteen months back; I dare say you remember it, +sir. Weak enough she was when she began to get about; some people +thought she wouldn't live. 'She must take stimilinks to strengthen +her,' says Close. 'She don't want stimilinks,' says I; 'she'll get +better without 'em;' for she was a taking of 'em then in secret, +though he didn't know it. 'Mrs. Brightman must take stimilinks,' says +he to master. 'Whatever you thinks necessary,' returns master--though +if he hadn't begun to suspect then, it's odd to me. And my missis was +not backward to take Close's stimilinks, and she took her own as well; +and that I look upon as the true foundation of it all; it might never +have grown into a habit but for that; and since then matters have been +going from bad to worse. It's a dangerous plan for doctors to order +stimilinks to weak people," added Hatch reflectively; "evil comes of +it sometimes." + +I had heard that opinion before; more than once. I had heard Mr. +Brightman express it to a client, who was recovering from an illness. +Was he thinking of his wife? + +"And for the last six months or so my missis has been getting almost +beyond control," resumed Hatch; "one could hardly keep her within +bounds. Me and master tried everything. We got Miss Annabel out of +the way, not letting her come home but for two or three days at a +time, and them days--my patience! if I hadn't to watch missis like a +cat! She didn't wish to exceed in the daytime when Miss Annabel was +here, though she would at night; but you know, sir, these poor +creatures can't keep their resolves; and if she once got a glass +early, then all her prudence went to the winds. I did my best; master +did his best; and she'd listen, and be reasonable, and say she'd touch +nothing. But upon the least temptation she'd give way. My belief is, +she couldn't help it; when it comes to this stage it's just a disease. +A disease, Mr. Charles, like the measles or the yellow jaundice, and +they can't put it from 'em if they would." + +True. + +"On the Thursday night, it was the Thursday before the master died, +there was a quarrel," Hatch went on. "Mrs. Brightman was not fit to +appear at the dinner-table, and her dinner was sent up to her room, +and master came upstairs afterwards, and they had words. Master said +he should send Miss Annabel to Hastings in the morning and keep her +there, for it would be impossible to hide matters from her longer if +she stayed at home. Mrs. Brightman, who was not very bad, resented +that, and called him harsh names: generally speaking, she was as +humble as could be, knowing herself in the wrong and feeling ashamed +of it. They parted in anger. Master was as good as his word; he sent +Miss Annabel with Sarah down to Hastings on the Friday morning to Miss +Brightman. In the evening, when he came home to dinner, missis was +again the worse for drink. But on the Saturday morning she was up +betimes, afore the household even, and had ordered the carriage, and +went whirling off with me to the station to take the first train for +Hastings. 'I shall return on Monday and bring back Annabel,' she said +to master, when she was stepping into the carriage at the door, and he +ran out to ask where she was going, for he had not seen nor heard +nothing about it. 'Very well,' said he in a whisper; 'only come back +as you ought to come.' Mr. Charles, I think those were the only words +that passed between them after the quarrel." + +"You mean the quarrel on the Thursday night?" + +"Yes, sir; there was no other quarrel. We went to the Queen's Hotel. +And on the Sunday, if you remember, you came down to tell us of the +master's sudden death. Mrs. Brightman was ill that morning, really +ill, I mean, with one of her dreadful headaches--which she did have at +times, and when she didn't they was uncommon convenient things for me +to fall back upon if I needed an excuse for her. She had meant to go +to church, but was not able. She had had too much on the Saturday +night, though she was always more prudent out than at home, and was +worried in mind besides. But, to be sure, how she did take on about +master's death when alone with me. They had parted bad friends: +leastways had not made it up after the quarrel; she knew how +aggravating she had been to him in it, and a notion got hold of her +that he might have poisoned himself. When she learnt the rights of it, +that he had died peaceful and natural, she didn't get much happier. +She was perpetually saying to me, as the days went on, that her +conduct had made him miserable. She drank then to drown care; she +fancied she saw all sorts of things, and when it came to master's +ghost----" + +"She could not have been sober when she fancied that." + +"Nor was she," returned Hatch. "Half-and-half like; had enough to +betray herself to Miss Annabel. 'Now don't you go and contradict about +the ghost,' I says to her, poor child; 'better let the kitchen think +it's a ghost than brandy-and-water.' Frightful vexed and ashamed +missis was, when she grew sober, to find that Miss Annabel knew the +truth. She told her she must go to her aunt at Hastings for a time: +Mr. Close, he said the same. Miss Annabel would not go; she said it +was not right that she should leave her mother, and there was a scene; +miss sobbing and crying, mistress angry and commanding; but it ended +in her going. 'I don't want no spies upon me,' says missis to me, 'and +she shall stop at Hastings for good.' Since then she has been giving +way unbearable, and the end of it is, she has got the shakes." + +What a life! What a life it had been for Mr. Brightman! Lennard had +thought of late that he appeared as a man who bore about him some +hidden grief! Once, when he had seemed low-spirited, I asked whether +anything was amiss. "We all have our trials, Charles; some more, some +less," was the answer, in tones that rather shut me up. + +Hatch would fain have talked until now: if wine was her mistress's +weakness, talking was hers; but she was interrupted by the arrival of +Mr. Close, and had to attend him upstairs. On his return he came into +the drawing-room. + +"This is a disagreeable business, Mr. Strange. Hatch tells me she has +informed you of the true nature of the case." + +A disagreeable business! The light words, the matter-of-fact tone +seemed as a mockery. The business nearly overwhelmed _me_. + +"When you met me the other night, at the gate, and spoke of Mrs. +Brightman's illness, I was uncertain how to answer you," continued Mr. +Close. "I thought it probable you might be behind the curtain, +connected as you are with the family, but I was not sure." + +"I never had the faintest suspicion of such a thing, until Hatch's +communication to me to-night. She says her young mistress, even, did +not know of it." + +"No; they have contrived to keep it from Annabel." + +"Will Mrs. Brightman recover?" + +"From this illness? oh dear yes! She is already in a fair way for it, +having dropped into the needed sleep; which is all we want. If you +mean will she recover from the habit--why, I cannot answer you. It +has obtained a safe hold upon her." + +"What is to be done?" + +"What can be done?" returned the surgeon. "Mrs. Brightman is her own +mistress, subject to no control, and has a good income at command. She +may go on drinking to the end." + +Go on drinking to the end! What a fearful thought! what a fearful +life! Could _nothing_ be done to prevent it; to recall her to herself; +to her responsibility for this world and the next? + +"I have seen much of these cases," continued Mr. Close; "few medical +men more. Before I came into this practice I was assistant-surgeon to +one of the debtors' prisons up in town: no school equal to that in all +Europe for initiating a man into the mysteries of the disorder." + +"Ay, so I believe. But can Mrs. Brightman's case be like those cases?" + +"Why should it differ from them? The same habits have induced it. Of +course, she is not yet as bad as some of them are, but unless she +pulls up she will become so. Her great chance, her one chance, I may +say, would be to place herself under some proper control. But this +would require firm resolution and self-denial. To begin with, she +would have to leave her home." + +"This cannot be a desirable home for Annabel." + +"No. Were she my child, she should not return to it." + +"What is to be done when she recovers from this attack?" + +"In what way?" + +In what way, truly! My brain was at work over the difficulties of the +future. Was Mrs. Brightman to live on in this, her home, amidst her +household of curious servants, amidst the prying neighbours, all of +whom would revel in a tale of scandal? + +"When she is sufficiently well she should have change of air," +proceeded the doctor, "and get her nerves braced up. Otherwise she may +be seeing that ghost for six months to come. A strange fancy that, +for her to take up--and yet, perhaps, not so very strange, taking all +things into consideration. She is full of remorse, thinking she might +have done her duty better by her husband, made him less unhappy, and +all that. Mrs. Brightman is a gentlewoman of proud, elevated +instincts: she would be only too thankful to leave off this +demoralizing habit; in a way, I believe she strives to do it, but it +is stronger than she is." + +"It has become worse, Hatch says, since Mr. Brightman died." + +"Undoubtedly," concluded Mr. Close. "She had taken it to drown care." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MY LORD AND MY LADY. + + +The breakfast-table was laid in Gloucester Place, waiting for Lord and +Lady Level. It was the day following the one recorded in the last +chapter. A clear, bright morning, the sun shining hotly. + +Blanche came in, wearing a dainty white dress. Her face, though thin, +was fair and lovely as ever; her eyes were as blue and brilliant. +Ringing for the coffee to be brought in, she began turning over the +letters on the table: one for herself, which she saw was from Mrs. +Guy; three for her husband. Of these, one bore the Paris postmark. + +"Here is a letter from Paris, Archibald," she said to him as he +entered. "I think from Madame Sauvage; it is like her writing. I hope +it is to say that she has sent off the box." + +"That you may regain possession of your finery," rejoined Lord Level, +with a light, pleasant laugh. "Eh, Blanche?" + +"Well, my new lace mantle is in it. So stupid of Timms to have made +the mistake!" + +"So it was. I dare say the box is on its road by this time." + +Blanche began to pour out the coffee. Lord Level had gone to the +window, and was looking up and down the street. As he took his seat to +begin breakfast, he pushed the letters away idly without opening them, +and remarked upon the fineness of the morning. + +They were fairly good friends, these two; always courteous, save when +Blanche was seized with a fit of jealousy, persuading herself, +rightly or wrongly, that she had cause for it. Then she would be +cross, bitter, snappish. Once in a way Lord Level retorted in kind; +though on the whole he was patient and gentle with her. In the midst +of it all she loved him passionately at heart, and sometimes let him +know it. + +"As it is so fine a day, Archibald, you might take me to Kensington, +to call on Mrs. Page Reid, this afternoon. She sent us her address, +you know." + +"I would rather not, Blanche, unless you particularly wish it. I don't +care to keep up Mrs. Page Reid's acquaintance. She's good for nothing +but to talk scandal." + +"I do not much care for her either," acknowledged Blanche. "We are not +in the least obliged to renew her acquaintance." + +"I will take you somewhere else instead," said he, pleased at her +acquiescence. "We will go out after luncheon and make an afternoon of +it--like Darby and Joan." + +Presently, when breakfast was nearly over, Blanche opened her letter +from Mrs. Guy; reading out scraps of it to her husband. It told of +Major Carlen's arrival--so that he had really gone to Jersey. Then she +took up the _Times_. An unusual thing for her to do. She did not care +for newspapers, and Lord Level did not have them sent to him when in +Paris: he saw the English journals at the club. No doubt he had his +reasons for so doing. + +Meanwhile he was opening his own letters. The one from Paris came +last. Had his wife been looking at him, she might have seen a sudden +change pass over his face as he read it, as though startled by some +doubt or perplexity. + +"Archibald, what can this mean?" exclaimed Blanche in breathless +tones. "Listen: 'The names of the five convicts said to have escaped +from the ship _Vengeance_ after her wreck on the island, supposed to +be that of Tristan d'Acunha, are the following: George Ford, Walter +Green, John Andison, Nathaniel Markham, and Thomas Heriot.' That is +Tom's name." + +Cramming all his letters into his breastpocket with a hurried +movement, Lord Level quietly took the paper from his wife's hands. +This was the very contretemps he had so long striven to guard against. + +"My dear Blanche, do you suppose there is only one Thomas Heriot in +the world?" cried he carelessly. "'Ship _Vengeance_?' 'Escape of +convicts?' Oh, it is something that has happened over at Botany Bay." + +"Well, the name startled me, at the moment. I'm sure Tom might as well +be a convict as anything else for all the news he sends us of +himself." + +"He was always careless, you know, and detested letter-writing." + +Carrying away the paper, Lord Level left the room and went to the one +behind it, of which he made a sort of study. There he sat down, spread +the letter from Paris before him on the table, and reperused it. + +"Confound the woman!" remarked his lordship. "I shall have to go down +there now!" + +Breakfast removed, Blanche began at once to write to Mrs. Guy, whose +letter required an answer. That over, she put on her bonnet to call on +Mrs. Arnold Ravensworth in Langham Place. She had called on the +previous day, but found Mr. and Mrs. Ravensworth out of town: they +were expected home that evening. So now Blanche went again. + +Yes, they had arrived; and had brought with them Blanche's old friend, +Cecilia Ravensworth, from White Littleham Rectory. + +How happy they were together, these two! It seemed an age since they +had parted, and yet it was not in reality so very long ago. Lady Level +remained the best part of the morning, talking of the old days of her +happy, yet uneventful, girlhood. + +Strolling leisurely through Cavendish Square on her way home, Blanche +fell to thinking of the afternoon: speculating where it might be that +her husband meant to take her. Perhaps to Hampton Court: she had +never seen it, and would like to do so: she would ask him to take her +there. Quickening her pace, she soon reached her own door, and saw an +empty cab drawn up before it. + +"Is any visitor here?" she asked of Sanders, when admitted. + +"No, my lady. I have just called the cab for his lordship." + +Lord Level came out of the study at the sound of her voice, and turned +with her into the front room. She thought he looked vexed--hurried. + +"Blanche," he began, "I find I have to run down to Marshdale. But I +shall not be away more than a night if I can help it. I shall be back +to-morrow if possible; if not, you may expect me the next day for +certain." + +"To Marshdale!" she repeated, in surprise and vexation. "Then you will +not be able to take me out this afternoon! I was hoping it might be to +Hampton Court." + +"You shall go to Hampton Court when I return." + +"Take me with you to Marshdale." + +"I cannot," he replied decisively. "I am going down on business." + +"Why did you not tell me of it this morning? Why have proposed to----" + +"I did not know of it then," he interrupted. "How dismayed you look, +Blanche!" he added, half laughing. + +"I shall be very lonely, Archibald--all by myself here!" + +He said no more, but stooped to kiss her, and left the room, looking +at his watch. + +"I did not think it was quite so late!" he exclaimed. Turning sharply, +for he had been about to enter the study, he approached the front +door, hesitated, then turned again, and went into the study. + +"No, I can't stop," he said, coming to a final decision, as he once +more came forth, shut the study door after him, and locked it, but did +not take out the key. "Blanche, don't let anyone come in here; I have +left all my papers at sixes and sevens. If I wait to put them up I +shall not catch Jenning." + +"Are you going to the train now, Archibald?" + +"No, no; I want to see Jenning. I shall come back before going to the +train." + +Getting into the cab, Lord Level was whirled away. Sanders closed the +house-door. And Blanche, ascending the stairs to her chamber, in the +slow manner we are apt to assume after experiencing some unexpected +check, and untying her bonnet as she went up, came upon her maid, +Timms. Timms appeared to be in trouble: her face was gloomy and wet +with tears. + +"What is the matter?" exclaimed her mistress. + +"My lady, I can't understand it. My belief is she has _stole_ it, and +nothing less. But for that dreadful sea-passage, there and back, I'd +go over myself to-day, if your ladyship would spare me." + +"Now, Timms, what are you talking about?" + +"Why, of the box, my lady. I was that vexed at its being left behind +that I scribbled a few lines to Victorine from Dover, telling her to +get Sauvage not to delay in sending it on. And I've got her answer +this morning, denying that any box has been left. Leastways, saying +that she can't see it." + +While Timms was speaking, she had pulled a note out of her pocket, and +offered it to her mistress. It was from their late chambermaid, and +written in curious English for Timms' benefit, who was no French +scholar, and it certainly denied that the box inquired for, or any +other box, had been left behind, so far as she, Victorine, could +ascertain. + +When departing from Paris three days before, Timms, counting over the +luggage with Sanders, discovered at the station that one of the boxes +was missing, left behind in their apartments by her own carelessness. +The train was on the point of starting, and there was no time to +return; but Lord Level despatched a message by a commissionaire to +the concierge, Sauvage, to send it on to London by grande vitesse. The +box contained wearing apparel belonging to Lady Level, and amidst it a +certain dark silk dress which Timms had long coveted. Altogether she +was in a state of melancholy self-reproach and had written to +Victorine from Dover, urging speed. Victorine's answer, delivered this +morning, had completely upset Timms. + +Lady Level laughed gaily. "Cheer up, Timms," she said; "the box is on +its road. His lordship has had a letter from Madame Sauvage this +morning." The concierge himself was no scribe, and his wife always did +the writing for him. + +Timms dashed her tears away. "Oh, my lady, how thankful I am! What +could Victorine mean, I wonder? When was the box sent off? Does your +ladyship know?" + +"No--o. I--don't know what the letter does say," added Lady Level, +calling to mind that she was as yet ignorant of its contents. "I +forgot all about it after Lord Level opened it." + +Timms did not quite comprehend. "But--I beg your pardon, my lady--I +suppose Madame Sauvage does say they have sent it off?" + +"I dare say she does. What else should she write for?" + +The maid's countenance fell considerably. + +"But, my lady," she remonstrated, wise in her superior age and +experience, "if--if your ladyship has not read the letter, it may be +just the opposite. To pretend, like Victorine, that they have not +found the box. Victorine may have spirited it away without their +knowledge. She would uncommonly like to get some of those dresses for +herself." + +This view scarcely appeared feasible to Lady Level. "How silly you +are, Timms!" she cried. "You can only look at the dark side of the +case. As if Lord Level would not have told me had it been _that_ news! +I wonder where he put the letter? I will look for it." + +"If you would be so kind, my lady! so as to set the doubt at rest." + +That she should find the letter on her husband's table, Blanche no +more doubted than that it was written by Madame Sauvage to announce +the despatch of the box. She ran down to the study, unlocked the door, +and entered. + +The table was covered with quite a confused mass of papers, heaped one +upon another. It seemed as though Lord Level must have been looking +for some deed or other. A despatch-box, usually crammed full of +papers, stood on the table, open and empty. At the opposite corner was +his desk; but that was locked. + +For a moment Blanche thought she would abandon her search. The +confusion looked too formidable to be meddled with. Well for her own +peace of mind that she had not done so! + +Bending forward, for papers lay on the carpet as well as the table, +she let her eyes range over the litter, slightly lifting with her +thumb and forefinger a paper here and there, hoping to discern the +required letter. Quite by a stroke of good fortune she came upon it. +Good fortune or ill--which? + +It lay, together with the two letters which had come with it, under an +open parchment, close before Lord Level's chair. One of these letters +was from Mr. Jenning, his confidential solicitor, requesting his +lordship to be with him at twelve o'clock that morning on a special +matter; but that had nothing to do with Blanche, or with us either. +She opened the envelope of the one she wished to see, and took out its +letter. + +But it was not a letter; not, at least, as letters run in general. It +was only a piece of thin paper folded once, which bore a few lines in +a fine, pointed Italian hand, and in faint-coloured ink, somewhat +difficult to decipher. + +Now it must be premised that Lady Level had no more thought of prying +into what concerned her husband, and did not concern herself, than a +child could have had. She would not have been guilty of such a thing +for the world. Any one of those parchments or papers, lying open +before her eyes, she would have deemed it the height of dishonour to +read a word of. This letter from the wife of their late concierge, +containing news of her own lost box, was a different matter. + +But though the address to Lord Level was undoubtedly in the +handwriting of Madame Sauvage, the inside was not. Blanche strained +her eyes over it. + + "I arrive to-day at Paris, and find you departed for England + with your wife and servants. I come straight on from Pisa, + without halting, to inform you of a discovery we have made; + there was no time to write. As I am so near, it is well to use + the opportunity to pay a short visit to Marshdale to see the + child, and I start this evening for it; you can join me there. + Pardon the trouble I give you.--NINA." + +With her face flaming, with trembling hands, and shortened breath, +Lady Level gathered in the words and their meaning. Nina! It was the +Italian girl, the base woman who had troubled before her peace of +mind, and who must have got Madame Sauvage to address the letter. +Evidently she did not mean, the shameless siren, to let Lord Level be +at rest. And--and--and what was the meaning of that allusion about +"the child"? + +Leaving the letter precisely as she had found it, under the sheet of +parchment, Lady Level quitted the room and turned the key in the door +again. Not for very shame, now that this shameful secret had been +revealed to her, would she let her husband know that she had entered. +Had she found only what she sought, she would have said openly to him +on his return: "Archibald, I went in for Madame Sauvage's note, and I +found it. I hope you don't mind--we were anxious about the box." But +somehow her eyes were now opened to the fact that she had been guilty +of a dishonourable action, one that could not be excused or +justified. Had he not locked his door against intruders--herself as +well as others? + +Passing into the front room, where the table was now being laid for +luncheon, which they took at one o'clock, she drew a chair near the +fire, mechanically watching Sanders as he placed the dishes on the +table, in reality seeing nothing; her mind was in a tumult, very +painful and rebellious. + +Timms came stealing in. How any lady could be so indifferent as her +lady when a box of beautiful clothes was at stake, Timms could not +understand: sitting quietly there over the fire, and never coming back +to set a body's mind at rest with yes or no. + +"I beg pardon for intruding," began Timms, with deprecation, "but did +your ladyship find Madame Sauvage's letter?" + +"No," curtly replied Lady Level. "I dare say the box is lost. Not much +matter if it is." + +Timms withdrew, lifting her hands in condemning displeasure when she +got outside. "Not much matter! if ever I heard the like of that! A +whole trunk _full_! and some of 'em _lovely_!" + +"Will you sit down, now, my lady, or wait for his lordship?" inquired +Sanders. + +Lady Level answered the question by taking her place at table. She +felt as though she should never care to wait for his lordship again, +for luncheon or anything else. In a few minutes a cab dashed up to the +door, bringing him. + +"That's right, Blanche; I am glad you did not wait for me," he began. +"Sanders, is my hand-bag ready?" + +"Quite, my lord." + +"Put it into the cab, then." + +He hastened into the study as he spoke, and began putting things +straight there with a deft and rapid hand. In an incredibly short +time, the papers were all in order, locked up in their various +receptacles, and the table was cleared. + +"Good-bye, my love," said he, returning to the front room. + +"Do you not take anything to eat?" asked Blanche, in short and sullen +tones, which he was in too great a hurry to notice. + +"No: or I should lose the train." + +He caught her to him. Blanche turned her face away. + +"You silly child! you are cross with me for leaving you. My dear, +believe me, _I could not help it_. Charley is coming up to dine with +you this evening." + +Leaving his kisses on her lips, but getting none in return, Lord Level +went out to the cab. As it drove away, there came up to the door a +railway luggage van. The lost box had arrived from Paris. Timms knelt +down with extra fervour that night to offer up her thanksgivings. + + * * * * * + +Lord Level had snatched a moment to look in upon me, and ask me to +dine with Blanche that evening. + +"She is not pleased at being left alone," he said; "but I am obliged +to run down to Marshdale. And, Charley, she saw something about Tom in +the paper this morning: I had to turn it off in the best way I could: +so be cautious if she mentions it to you." + +I had meant to look again after Tom Heriot that evening, but could not +refuse this. Blanche was unusually silent throughout dinner. + +"Is anything the matter, Blanche?" I asked her, when we were in the +drawing-room. + +"A great deal is the matter," she replied resentfully. "I am not going +to put up with it." + +"Put up with what?" + +"Oh--with Lord Level. With his--his deceit. But I can't tell you now, +Charles: I shall speak to himself first." + +I laughed. "More jealousy cropping up! What has he done now, Blanche?" + +"What has he gone to Marshdale for?" retorted Blanche, her cheeks +flaming. "And what did he go to Pisa for when we were last in Paris?" +continued she, without any pause. "He _did_ go. It was in December; +and he was away ten days." + +"Well,' I suppose some matter or other called him there," I said. "As +to Marshdale--it is his place; his home. Why should this annoy you, +Blanche? A man cannot carry his wife with him everywhere." + +"_I_ know," she said, catching up her fan, and beginning to use it +sharply. "I know more than you do, Charles. More than he thinks for--a +great deal more." + +"It strikes me, my dear, that you are doing your best to estrange your +husband from you--if you speak to him as you are speaking now. That +will not enhance your own happiness, Blanche." + +"The fault is his," she cried, turning her hot face defiantly upon me. + +"It may be. I don't think so." + +"He does not care for me _at all_. He cares for--for--somebody else." + +"You may be mistaken. I should be sorry to believe it. But, even +should it be so--listen, Blanche--even should it be so, you will do +well to change your tactics. _Try and win him back to you._ I tell it +you for the sake of your own happiness." + +Blanche tossed back her golden curls, and rose. "How old-fashioned you +are, Charles! it is of no use talking to you. Will you sing our old +duet with me--'I've wandered in dreams'?" + +"Ay. But I am out of practice." + +She had taken her place on the music-stool, and was playing the first +bars of the song, when a thought struck her, and she turned round. + +"Charley, such a curious thing happened this morning. I saw in the +_Times_ a list of some escaped convicts, who had been on their way to +Van Diemen's Land, and amongst them was the name of Thomas Heriot. For +a moment it startled and frightened me." + +Her eyes were upon my face, so was the light. Having a piece of music +in my hand, I let it fall, and stooped to pick it up. + +"Was it not strange, Charles?" + +"Not particularly so. There may be a hundred Tom Heriots in the +world." + +"That's what Archibald said--or something to the same effect. But, do +you know, I cannot get it out of my head. And Tom's not writing to us +from India has seemed to me all day more strangely odd than it did +before." + +"India is a regular lazy place. The heat makes people indolent and +indifferent." + +"Yes, I know. Besides, as papa said to me in the few minutes we were +talking together before he went away, Tom may have written, and the +letters not have reached us. The mail from India is by no means a safe +one, he says; letters often get lost by it." + +"By no means safe: no end of letters are lost continually," I +murmured, seconding old Carlen's invention, knowing not what else to +say. "Let us go on, Blanche. It is I who begin, I think--'I've +wandered in dreams.'" + +Wandered in dreams! If this misery connected with Tom Heriot were only +a dream, and not a reality! + + END OF VOL. II. + + + BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. + + _S. & H._ + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + +Inconsistent spelling such as Chantry and Chantrey retained. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange Vol. 2 +(of 3), by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + +***** This file should be named 38624.txt or 38624.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/6/2/38624/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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