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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/38625-8.txt b/38625-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d738d17 --- /dev/null +++ b/38625-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6078 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange, Vol. 3 (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. 3 (of 3) + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: January 20, 2012 [EBook #38625] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 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. III. + + + LONDON: + RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen + 1888 + [_All Rights Reserved_] + + + + + CONTENTS OF VOL. III. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. ON THE WATCH 1 + + II. TOM HERIOT 29 + + III. AN EVENING VISITOR 46 + + IV. RESTITUTION 64 + + V. CONFESSION 92 + + VI. DANGER 117 + + VII. WITH MR. JONES 136 + + VIII. AN ACCIDENT 165 + + IX. LAST DAYS 185 + + X. LAST WORDS 203 + + XI. DOWN AT MARSHDALE 226 + + XII. IN THE EAST WING 249 + + XIII. CONCLUSION 260 + + + + +THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +ON THE WATCH. + + +Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar sat at dinner in his house in Russell Square +one Sunday afternoon. A great cause, in which he was to lead, had +brought him up from circuit, to which he would return when the Nisi +Prius trial was over. The cloth was being removed when I entered. He +received me with his usual kindly welcome. + +"Why not have come to dinner, Charles? Just had it, you say? All the +more reason why we might have had it together. Sit down, and help +yourself to wine." + +Declining the wine, I drew my chair near to his, and told him what I +had come about. + +A few days had gone on since the last chapter. With the trouble +connected with Mrs. Brightman, and the trouble connected with Tom +Heriot, I had enough on my mind at that time, if not upon my +shoulders. As regarded Mrs. Brightman, no one could help me; but +regarding the other---- + +Was Tom in London, or was he not? How was I to find out? I had again +gone prowling about the book-stall and its environs, and had seen no +trace of him. Had Leah really seen him, or only some other man who +resembled him? + +Again I questioned Leah. Her opinion was not to be shaken. She held +emphatically to her assertion. It was Tom that she had seen, and none +other. + +"You may have seen some other sailor, sir; I don't say to the +contrary; but the sailor I saw was Captain Heriot," she reiterated. +"Suppose I go again to-night, sir? I may, perhaps, have the good luck +to see him." + +"Should you call it good luck, Leah?" + +"Ah well, sir, you know what I mean," she answered. "Shall I go +to-night?" + +"No, Leah; I am going myself. I cannot rest in this uncertainty." + +Rest! I felt more like a troubled spirit or a wandering ghost. Arthur +Lake asked what had gone wrong with me, and where I disappeared to of +an evening. + +Once more I turned out in discarded clothes to saunter about Lambeth. +It was Saturday night and the thoroughfares were crowded; but amidst +all who came and went I saw no trace of Tom. + +Worried, disheartened, I determined to carry the perplexity to my +Uncle Stillingfar. That he was true as steel, full of loving-kindness +to all the world, no matter what their errors, and that he would aid +me with his counsel--if any counsel could avail--I well knew. And thus +I found myself at his house on that Sunday afternoon. Of course he had +heard about the escape of the convicts; had seen Tom's name in the +list; but he did not know that he was suspected of having reached +London. I told him of what Leah had seen, and added the little episode +about "Miss Betsy." + +"And now, what can be done, Uncle Stillingfar? I have come to ask +you." + +His kindly blue eyes became thoughtful whilst he pondered the +question. "Indeed, Charles, I know not," he answered. "Either you must +wait in patience until he turns up some fine day--as he is sure to do +if he is in London--or you must quietly pursue your search for him, +and smuggle him away when you have found him." + +"But if I don't find him? Do you think it could be Tom that Leah saw? +Is it possible that he can be in London?" + +"Quite possible. If a homeward vessel, bound, it may be, for the port +of London, picked them up, what more likely than that he is here? +Again, who else would call himself Charles Strange, and pass himself +off for you? Though I cannot see his motive for doing it." + +"Did you ever know any man so recklessly imprudent, uncle?" + +"I have never known any man so reckless as Tom Heriot. You must do +your best to find him, Charles." + +"I don't know how. I thought you might possibly have suggested some +plan. Every day increases his danger." + +"It does: and the chances of his being recognised." + +"It seems useless to search further in Lambeth: he must have changed +his quarters. And to look about London for him will be like looking +for a needle in a bottle of hay. I suppose," I slowly added, "it would +not do to employ a detective?" + +"Not unless you wish to put him into the lion's mouth," said the +Serjeant. "Why, Charles, it would be his business to retake him. Rely +upon it, the police are now looking for him if they have the slightest +suspicion that he is here." + +At that time one or two private detectives had started in business on +their own account, having nothing to do with the police: now they have +sprung up in numbers. It was to these I alluded. + +Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. "I would not trust one of them, +Charles: it would be too dangerous an experiment. No; what you do, you +must do yourself. Once let Government get scent that he is here, and +we shall probably find the walls placarded with a reward for his +apprehension." + +"One thing I am surprised at," I said as I rose to leave: "that if he +is here, he should not have let me know it. What can he be doing for +money? An escaped convict is not likely to have much of that about +him." + +Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. "There are points about the +affair that I cannot fathom, Charles. Talking of money--you are +well-off now, but if more than you can spare should be needed to get +Tom Heriot away, apply to me." + +"Thank you, uncle; but I don't think it will be needed. Where would +you recommend him to escape to?" + +"Find him first," was the Serjeant's answer. + +He accompanied me himself to the front door. As we stood, speaking a +last word, a middle-aged man, with keen eyes and spare frame, dressed +as a workman, came up with a brisk step. Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar met +the smile on the man's face as he glanced up in passing. + +"Arkwright!" he exclaimed. "I hardly knew you. Some sharp case in +hand, I conclude?" + +"Just so, Serjeant; but I hope to bring it to earth before the day's +over. You know----" + +Then the man glanced at me and came to a pause. + +"However, I mustn't talk about it now, so good-afternoon, Serjeant." +And thus speaking, he walked briskly onwards. + +"I wonder what he has in hand? I think he would have told me, Charles, +but for your being present," cried my uncle, looking after him. "A +keen man is Arkwright." + +"_Arkwright!_" I echoed, the name now impressing itself upon me. +"Surely not Arkwright the famous detective!" + +"Yes, it is. And he has evidently got himself up as a workman to +further some case that he has in hand. He knew you, Charles; depend +upon that; though you did not know him." + +A fear, perhaps a foolish one, fell upon me. "Uncle Stillingfar," I +breathed, "can his case be _Tom's_? Think you it is he who is being +run to earth?" + +"No, no. That is not likely," he answered, after a moment's +consideration. "Anyway, you must use every exertion to find him, for +his stay in London is full of danger." + +It will readily be believed that this incident had not added to my +peace of mind. One more visit I decided to pay to the old ground in +Lambeth, and after that--why, in truth, whether to turn east, west, +north or south, I knew no more than the dead. + +Monday was bright and frosty; Monday evening clear, cold and +starlight. The gaslights flared away in the streets and shops; the +roads were lined with wayfarers. + +Sauntering down the narrow pavement on the opposite side of the way, +in the purposeless manner that a hopeless man favours, I approached +the book-stall. A sailor was standing before it, his head bent over +the volumes. Every pulse within me went up to fever heat: for there +was that in him that reminded me of Tom Heriot. + +I crossed quietly to the stall, stood side by side with him, and took +up a handful of penny dreadfuls. Yes, it was he--Tom Heriot. + +"Tom," I cried softly. "Tom!" + +I felt the start he gave. But he did not move hand or foot; only his +eyes turned to scan me. + +"Tom," I whispered again, apparently intent upon a grand picture of a +castle in flames, and a gentleman miraculously escaping with a lady +from an attic window. "Tom, don't you know me?" + +"For goodness' sake don't speak to me, Charley!" he breathed in +answer, the words barely audible. "Go away, for the love of heaven! +I've been a prisoner here for the last three minutes. That policeman +yonder would know me, and I dare not turn. His name's Wren." + +Three doors off, a policeman was standing at the edge of the pavement, +facing the shops, as if waiting to pounce upon someone he was +expecting to pass. Even as Tom spoke, he wheeled round to the right, +and marched up the street. Tom as quickly disappeared to the left, +leaving a few words in my ear. + +"I'll wait for you at the other end, Charley; it is darker there than +here. Don't follow me immediately." + +So I remained where I was, still bending an enraptured gaze upon the +burning castle and the gallant knight and damsel escaping from it at +their peril. + +"Betsy says the account comes to seven shillings, Mr. Strange." + +The address gave me almost as great a thrill as the sight of Tom had +done. It came from the man Lee, now emerging from his shop. +Involuntarily I pulled my hat lower upon my brow. He looked up and +down the street. + +"Oh, I beg pardon--thought Mr. Strange was standing here," he said. +And then I saw my error. He had not spoken to me, but to Tom Heriot. +My gaze was still fascinated by the flaming picture. + +"Anything you'd like this evening, sir?" + +"I'll take this sheet--half a dozen of them," I said, putting down +sixpence. + +"Thank you, sir. A fine night." + +"Yes, very. Were you speaking to the sailor who stood here?" I added +carelessly "He went off in that direction, I think," pointing to the +one opposite to that Tom had taken. + +"Yes," answered the man; "'twas Mr. Strange. He had asked me to look +how much his score was for tobacco. I dare say he'll be back +presently. Captain Strange, by rights," added Lee chattily. + +"Oh! Captain of a vessel?" + +"Of his own vessel--a yacht. Not but what he has been about the world +in vessels of all sorts, he tells us; one voyage before the mast, the +next right up next to the skipper. But for them ups and downs where, +as he says, would sailors find their experience?" + +"Very true. Well, this is all I want just now. Good-evening." + +"Good-evening, sir," replied Caleb Lee. + +The end of the street to which Tom had pointed was destitute of shops; +the houses were small and poor; consequently, it was tolerably dark. +Tom was sauntering along, smoking a short pipe. + +"Is there any place at hand where we can have a few words together in +tolerable security?" I asked. + +"Come along," briefly responded Tom. "You walk on the other side of +the street, old fellow; keep me in view." + +It was good advice, and I took it. He increased his pace to a brisk +walk, and presently turned down a narrow passage, which brought him to +a sort of small, triangular green, planted with shrubs and trees. I +followed, and we sat down on one of the benches. + +"Are you quite mad, Tom?" + +"Not mad a bit," laughed Tom. "I say, Charley, did you come to that +book-stall to look after me?" + +"Ay. And it's about the tenth time I have been there." + +"How the dickens did you find me out?" + +"Chance one evening took Leah into the neighbourhood, and she happened +to see you. I had feared you might be in England." + +"You had heard of the wreck of the _Vengeance_, I suppose; and that a +few of us had escaped. Good old Leah! Did I give her a fright?" + +We were sitting side by side. Tom had put his pipe out, lest the light +should catch the sight of any passing stragglers. We spoke in +whispers. It was, perhaps, as safe a place as could be found; +nevertheless, I sat upon thorns. + +Not so Tom. By the few signs that might be gathered--his light voice, +his gay laugh, his careless manner--Tom felt as happy and secure as if +he had been attending one of her Majesty's levées, in the full glory +of scarlet coat and flashing sword-blade. + +"Do you know, Tom, you have half killed me with terror and +apprehension? How could you be so reckless as to come back to London?" + +"Because the old ship brought me," lightly returned Tom. + +"I suppose a vessel picked you up--and the comrades who escaped with +you?" + +"It picked two of us up. The other three died." + +"What, in the boat?" + +He nodded. "In the open boat at sea." + +"How did you manage to escape? I thought convicts were too well looked +after." + +"So they are, under ordinary circumstances. Shipwrecks form the +exception. I'll give you the history, Charley." + +"Make it brief, then. I am upon thorns." + +Tom laughed, and began: + +"We were started on that blessed voyage, a cargo of men in irons, and +for some time made a fair passage, and thought we must be nearing the +other side. Such a crew, that cargo, Charles! Such an awful lot! +Villainous wretches, who wore their guilt on their faces, and suffered +their deserts; half demons, most of them. A few amongst them were no +doubt like me, innocent enough; wrongfully accused and condemned----" + +"But go on with the narrative, Tom." + +"I swear I was innocent," he cried, with emotion, heedless of my +interruption. "I was wickedly careless, I admit that, but the guilt +was another's, not mine. When I put those bills into circulation, +Charles, I knew no more they were forged than you did. Don't you +believe me?" + +"I do believe you. I have believed you throughout." + +"And if the trial had not been hurried on I think it could have been +proved. It was hurried on, Charles, and when it was on it was hurried +over. I am suffering unjustly." + +"Yes, Tom. But won't you go on with your story?" + +"Where was I? Oh, about the voyage and the shipwreck. After getting +out of the south-east trades, we had a fortnight's light winds and +calms, and then got into a steady westerly wind, before which we ran +quietly for some days. One dark night, it was the fifteenth of +November, and thick, drizzling weather, the wind about north-west, we +had turned in and were in our first sleep, when a tremendous uproar +arose on deck; the watch shouting and tramping, the officers' orders +and the boatswain's mate's shrill piping rising above the din. One +might have thought Old Nick had leaped on board and was giving chase. +Next came distinctly that fearful cry, 'All hands save ship!' Sails +were being clewed up, yards were being swung round. Before we could +realize what it all meant, the ship had run ashore; and there she +stuck, bumping as if she would knock her bottom out." + +"Get on, Tom," I whispered, for he had paused, and seemed to be +spinning a long yarn instead of a short one. + +"Fortunately, the ship soon made a sort of cradle for herself in the +sand, and lay on her starboard bilge. To attempt to get her off was +hopeless. So they got us all out of the ship and on shore, and put us +under tents made of the sails. The skipper made out, or thought he +made out, the island to be that of Tristan d'Acunha: whether it was or +not I can't say positively. At first we thought it was uninhabited, +but it turned out to have a few natives on it, sixty or eighty in +all. In the course of a few days every movable thing had been landed. +All the boats were intact, and were moored in a sort of creek, or +small natural harbour, their gear, sails and oars in them." + +"Hush!" I breathed, "or you are lost!" + +A policeman's bull's-eye was suddenly turned upon the grass. By the +man's size, I knew him for Tom's friend, Wren. We sat motionless. The +light just escaped us, and the man passed on. But we had been in +danger. + +"If you would only be quicker, Tom. I don't want to know about boats +and their gear." + +He laughed. "How impatient you are, Charles! Well, to get on ahead. A +cargo of convicts cannot be kept as securely under such circumstances +as had befallen us as they could be in a ship's hold, and the +surveillance exercised was surprisingly lax. Two or three of the +prisoners were meditating an escape, and thought they saw their way to +effecting it by means of one of the boats. I found this out, and +joined the party. But there were almost insurmountable difficulties in +the way. It was absolutely necessary that we should put on ordinary +clothes--for what vessel, picking us up, but would have delivered us +up at the first port it touched at, had we been in convict dress? We +marked the purser's slop-chest, which was under a tent, and well +filled, and----" + +"Do get on, Tom!" + +"Here goes, then! One calm, but dark night, when other people were +sleeping, we stole down to the creek, five of us, rigged ourselves out +in the purser's toggery, leaving the Government uniforms in exchange, +unmoored one of the cutters, and got quietly away. We had secreted +some bread and salt meat; water there had been already on board. The +wind was off the land, and we let the boat drift before it a bit +before attempting to make sail. By daylight we were far enough from +the island; no chance of their seeing us--a speck on the waters. The +wind, hitherto south, had backed to the westward. We shaped a course +by the sun to the eastward, and sailed along at the rate of five or +six knots. My comrades were not as rough as they might have been; +rather decent fellows for convicts. Two of them were from Essex; had +been sentenced for poaching only. Now began our lookout: constantly +straining our eyes along the horizon for a sail, but especially astern +for an outward-bounder, but only saw one or two in the distance that +did not see us. What I underwent in that boat as day after day passed, +and no sail appeared, I won't enter upon now, old fellow. The +provisions were exhausted, and so was the water. One by one three of +my companions went crazy and died. The survivor and I had consigned +the last of them to the deep on the twelfth day, and then I thought my +turn had come; but Markham was worse than I was. How many hours went +on, I knew not. I lay at the bottom of the boat, exhausted and half +unconscious, when suddenly I heard voices. I imagined it to be a +dream. But in a few minutes a boat was alongside the cutter, and two +of its crew had stepped over and were raising me up. They spoke to me, +but I was too weak to understand or answer; in fact, I was delirious. +I and Markham were taken on board and put to bed. After some days, +passed in a sort of dreamy, happy delirium, well cared for and +attended to, I woke up to the realities of life. Markham was dead: he +had never revived, and died of exposure and weakness some hours after +the rescue." + +"What vessel had picked you up?" + +"It was the _Discovery_, a whaler belonging to Whitby, and homeward +bound. The captain, Van Hoppe, was Dutch by birth, but had been reared +in England and had always sailed in English ships. A good and kind +fellow, if ever there was one. Of course, I had to make my tale good +and suppress the truth. The passenger-ship in which I was sailing to +Australia to seek my fortune had foundered in mid-ocean, and those +who escaped with me had died of their sufferings. That was true so +far. Captain Van Hoppe took up my misfortunes warmly. Had he been my +own brother--had he been _you_, Charley--he could not have treated me +better or cared for me more. The vessel had a prosperous run home. She +was bound for the port of London; and when I put my hand into Van +Hoppe's at parting, and tried to thank him for his goodness, he left a +twenty-pound note in it. 'You'll need it, Mr. Strange,' he said; 'you +can repay me when your fortune's made and you are rich.'" + +"_Strange!_" I cried. + +Tom laughed. + +"I called myself 'Strange' on the whaler. Don't know that it was wise +of me. One day when I was getting better and lay deep in +thought--which just then chanced to be of you, Charley--the mate +suddenly asked me what my name was. 'Strange,' I answered, on the spur +of the moment. That's how it was. And that's the brief history of my +escape." + +"You have had money, then, for your wants since you landed," I +remarked. + +"I have had the twenty pounds. It's coming to an end now." + +"You ought not to have come to London. You should have got the captain +to put you ashore somewhere, and then made your escape from England." + +"All very fine to talk, Charley! I had not a sixpence in my pocket, or +any idea that he was going to help me. I could only come on as far as +the vessel would bring me." + +"And suppose he had not given you money--what then?" + +"Then I must have contrived to let you know that I was home again, and +borrowed from you," he lightly replied. + +"Well, your being here is frightfully dangerous." + +"Not a bit of it. As long as the police don't suspect I am in England, +they won't look after me. It's true that a few of them might know me, +but I do not think they would in this guise and with my altered +face." + +"You were afraid of one to-night." + +"Well, _he_ is especially one who might know me; and he stood there so +long that I began to think he might be watching me. Anyway, I've been +on shore these three weeks, and nothing has come of it yet." + +"What about that young lady named Betsy? Miss Betsy Lee." + +Tom threw himself back in a fit of laughter. + +"I hear the old fellow went down to Essex Street one night to +ascertain whether I lived there! The girl asked me one day where I +lived, and I rapped out Essex Street." + +"But, Tom, what have you to do with the girl?" + +"Nothing; nothing. On my honour. I have often been in the shop, +sometimes of an evening. The father has invited me to some grog in the +parlour behind it, and I have sat there for an hour chatting with him +and the girl. That's all. She is a well-behaved, modest little girl; +none better." + +"Well, Tom, with one imprudence and another, you stand a fair +chance----" + +"There, there! Don't preach, Charley. What you call imprudence, I call +fun." + +"What do you think of doing? To remain on here for ever in this +disguise?" + +"Couldn't, I expect, if I wanted to. I must soon see about getting +away." + +"You must get away at once." + +"I am not going yet, Charley; take my word for that; and I am as safe +in London, I reckon, as I should be elsewhere. Don't say but I may +have to clear out of this particular locality. If that burly policeman +is going to make a permanent beat of it about here, he might drop upon +me some fine evening." + +"And you must exchange your sailor's disguise, as you call it, for a +better one." + +"Perhaps so. That rough old coat you have on, Charley, might not come +amiss to me." + +"You can have it. Why do you fear that policeman should know you, +more than any other?" + +"He was present at the trial last August. Was staring me in the face +most of the day. His name's Wren." + +I sighed. + +"Well, Tom, it is getting late; we have sat here as long as is +consistent with safety," I said, rising. + +He made me sit down again. + +"The later the safer, perhaps, Charley. When shall we meet again?" + +"Ay; when, and where?" + +"Come to-morrow evening, to this same spot. It is as good a one as any +I know of. I shall remain indoors all day tomorrow. Of course one does +not care to run needlessly into danger. Shall you find your way to +it?" + +"Yes, and will be here; but I shall go now. Do be cautious, Tom. Do +you want any money? I have brought some with me." + +"Many thanks, old fellow; I've enough to go on with for a day or two. +How is Blanche? Did she nearly die of the disgrace?" + +"She did not know of it. Does not know it yet." + +"No!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, how can it have been kept +from her? She does not live in a wood." + +"Level has managed it, somehow. She was abroad during the trial, you +know. They have chiefly lived there since, Blanche seeing no English +newspapers; and, of course, her acquaintances do not gratuitously +speak to her about it. But I don't think it can be kept from her much +longer." + +"But where does she think I am--all this time?" + +"She thinks you are in India with the regiment." + +"I suppose _he_ was in a fine way about it!" + +"Level? Yes--naturally; and is still. He would have saved you, Tom, at +any cost." + +"As you would, and one or two more good friends; but, you see, I did +not know what was coming upon me in time to ask them. It fell upon my +head like a thunderbolt. Level is not a bad fellow at bottom." + +"He is a downright good one--at least, that's my opinion of him." + +We stood hand locked in hand at parting. "Where are you staying?" I +whispered. + +"Not far off. I've a lodging in the neighbourhood--one room." + +"Fare you well, then, until to-morrow evening." + +"Au revoir, Charley." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +TOM HERIOT. + + +I found my way straight enough the next night to the little green with +its trees and shrubs. Tom was there, and was humming one of our +boyhood's songs taught us by Leah: + + "Young Henry was as brave a youth + As ever graced a martial story; + And Jane was fair as lovely truth: + She sighed for love, and he for glory. + + "To her his faith he meant to plight, + And told her many a gallant story: + But war, their honest joys to blight, + Called him away from love to glory. + + "Young Henry met the foe with pride; + Jane followed--fought--ah! hapless story! + In man's attire, by Henry's side, + She died for love, and he for glory." + +He was still dressed as a sailor, but the pilot-coat was buttoned up +high and tight about his throat, and the round glazed hat was worn +upon the front of his head instead of the back of it. + +"I thought you meant to change these things, Tom," I said as we sat +down. + +"All in good time," he answered; "don't quite know yet what costume to +adopt. Could one become a negro-melody man, think you, Charley--or a +Red Indian juggler with balls and sword-swallowing?" + +How light he seemed! how supremely indifferent! Was it real or only +assumed? Then he turned suddenly upon me: + +"I say, what are you in black for, Charley? For my sins?" + +"For Mr. Brightman." + +"Mr. Brightman!" he repeated, his tone changing to one of concern. "Is +he dead?" + +"He died the last week in February. Some weeks ago now. Died quite +suddenly." + +"Well, well, well!" softly breathed Tom Heriot. "I am very sorry. I +did not know it. But how am I likely to know anything of what the past +months have brought forth?" + +It would serve no purpose to relate the interview of that night in +detail. We spent it partly in quarrelling. That is, in differences of +opinion. It was impossible to convince Tom of his danger. I told him +about the Sunday incident, when Detective Arkwright passed the door of +Serjeant Stillingfar, and my momentary fear that he might be looking +after Tom. He only laughed. "Good old Uncle Stillingfar!" cried he; +"give my love to him." And all his conversation was carried on in the +same light strain. + +"But you must leave Lambeth," I urged. "You said you would do so." + +"I said I might. I will, if I see just cause for doing so. Plenty of +time yet. I am not _sure_, you know, Charles, that Wren would know +me." + +"The very fact of your having called yourself 'Strange' ought to take +you away from here." + +"Well, I suppose that was a bit of a mistake," he acknowledged. "But +look here, brother mine, your own fears mislead you. Until it is known +that I have made my way home no one will be likely to look after me. +Believing me to be at the antipodes, they won't search London for me." + +"They may suspect that you are in London, if they don't actually know +it." + +"Not they. To begin with, it must be a matter of absolute uncertainty +whether we got picked up at all, after escaping from the island; but +the natural conclusion will be that, if we were, it was by a vessel +bound for the colonies: homeward-bound ships do not take that course. +Everyone at all acquainted with navigation knows that. I assure you, +our being found by the whaler was the merest chance in the world. Be +at ease, Charley. I can take care of myself, and I will leave Lambeth +if necessary. One of these fine mornings you may get a note from me, +telling you I have emigrated to the Isle of Dogs, or some such +enticing quarter, and have become 'Mr. Smith.' Meanwhile, we can meet +here occasionally." + +"I don't like this place, Tom. It must inevitably be attended with +more or less danger. Had I not better come to your lodgings?" + +"No," he replied, after a moment's consideration. "I am quite sure +that we are safe here, and there it's hot and stifling--a dozen +families living in the same house. And I shall not tell you where the +lodgings are, Charles: you might be swooping down upon me to carry me +away as Mephistopheles carried away Dr. Faustus." + +After supplying him with money, with a last handshake, whispering a +last injunction to be cautious, I left the triangle, and left him +within it. The next moment found me face to face with the burly frame +and wary glance of Mr. Policemen Wren. He was standing still in the +starlight. I walked past him with as much unconcern as I could +muster. He turned to look after me for a time, and then continued his +beat. + +It gave me a scare. What would be the result if Tom met him +unexpectedly as I had done? I would have given half I was worth to +hover about and ascertain. But I had to go on my way. + + * * * * * + +"Can you see Lord Level, sir?" + +It was the following Saturday afternoon, and I was just starting for +Hastings. The week had passed in anxious labour. Business cares for +me, more work than I knew how to get through, for Lennard was away +ill, and constant mental torment about Tom. I took out my watch before +answering Watts. + +"Yes, I have five minutes to spare. If that will be enough for his +lordship," I added, laughing, as we shook hands: for he had followed +Watts into the room. + +"You are off somewhere, Charles?" + +"Yes, to Hastings. I shall be back again to-morrow night. Can I do +anything for you?" + +"Nothing," replied Lord Level. "I came up from Marshdale this morning, +and thought I would come round this afternoon to ask whether you have +any news." + +When Lord Level went to Marshdale on the visit that bore so suspicious +an aspect to his wife, he had remained there only one night, returning +to London the following day. This week he had been down again, and +stayed rather longer--two days, in fact. Blanche, as I chanced to +know, was rebelling over it. Secretly rebelling, for she had not +brought herself to accuse him openly. + +"News?" I repeated. + +"Of Tom Heriot." + +Should I tell Lord Level? Perhaps there was no help for it. When he +had asked me before I had known nothing positively; now I knew only +too much. + +"Why I should have it, I know not; but a conviction lies upon me that +he has found his way back to London," he continued. "Charles, you look +conscious. Do you know anything?" + +"You are right. He is here, and I have seen him." + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lord Level, throwing himself back in his +chair. "Has he really been mad enough to come back to London?" + +Drawing my own chair nearer to him, I bent forward, and in low tones +gave him briefly the history. I had seen Tom on the Monday and Tuesday +nights, as already related to the reader. On the Thursday night I was +again at the trysting-place, but Tom did not meet me. The previous +night, Friday, I had gone again, and again Tom did not appear. + +"Is he taken, think you?" cried Lord Level. + +"I don't know: and you see I dare not make any inquiries. But I think +not. Had he been captured, it would be in the papers." + +"I am not so sure of that. What an awful thing! What suspense for us +all! Can _nothing_ be done?" + +"Nothing," I answered, rising, for my time was up. "We can only wait, +and watch, and be silent." + +"If it were not for the disgrace reflected upon us, and raking it up +again to people's minds, I would say let him be re-taken! It would +serve him right for his foolhardiness." + +"How is Blanche?" + +"Cross and snappish; unaccountably so: and showing her temper to me +rather unbearably." + +I laughed--willing to treat the matter lightly. "She does not care +that you should go travelling without her, I take it." + +Lord Level, who was passing out before me, turned and gazed into my +face. + +"Yes," said he emphatically. "But a man may have matters to take up +his attention, and his movements also, that he may deem it inexpedient +to talk of to his wife." + +He spoke with a touch of haughtiness. "Very true," I murmured, as we +shook hands and went out together, he walking away towards Gloucester +Place, I jumping into the cab waiting to take me to the station. + +Mrs. Brightman was better; I knew that; and showing herself more +self-controlled. But there was no certainty that the improvement would +be lasting. In truth, the certainty lay rather the other way. Her +mother's home was no home for Annabel; and I had formed the resolution +to ask her to come to mine. + +The sun had set when I reached Hastings, and Miss Brightman's house. +Miss Brightman, who seemed to grow less strong day by day, which I was +grieved to hear, was in her room lying down. Annabel sat at the front +drawing-room window in the twilight. She started up at my entrance, +full of surprise and apprehension. + +"Oh, Charles! Has anything happened? Is mamma worse?" + +"No, indeed; your mamma is very much better," said I cheerfully. "I +have taken a run down for the pleasure of seeing you, Annabel." + +She still looked uneasy. I remembered the dreadful tidings I had +brought the last time I came to Hastings. No doubt she was thinking +of it, too, poor girl. + +"Take a seat, Charles," she said. "Aunt Lucy will soon be down." + +I drew a chair opposite to her, and talked for a little time on +indifferent topics. The twilight shades grew deeper, passers-by more +indistinct, the sea less bright and shimmering. Silence stole over +us--a sweet silence all too conscious, all too fleeting. Annabel +suddenly rose, stood at the window, and made some slight remark about +a little boat that was nearing the pier. + +"Annabel," I whispered, as I rose and stood by her, "you do not know +what I have really come down for." + +"No," she answered, with hesitation. + +"When I last saw you at your own home, you may remember that you were +in very great trouble. I asked you to share it with me, but you would +not do so." + +She began to tremble, and became agitated, and I passed my arm round +her waist. + +"My darling, I now know all." + +Her heart beat violently as I held her. Her hand shook nervously in +mine. + +"You cannot know all!" she cried piteously. + +"I know all; more than you do. Mrs. Brightman was worse after you +left, and Hatch sent for me. She and Mr. Close have told me the whole +truth." + +Annabel would have shrunk away, in the full tide of shame that swept +over her, and a low moan broke from her lips. + +"Nay, my dear, instead of shrinking from me, you must come nearer to +me--for ever. My home must be yours now." + +She did not break away from me, and stood pale and trembling, her +hands clasped, her emotion strong. + +"It cannot, must not be, Charles." + +"Hush, my love. It _can_ be--and shall be." + +"Charles," she said, her very lips trembling, "weigh well what you are +saying. Do not suffer the--affection--I must speak fully--the implied +engagement that was between us, ere this unhappiness came to my +knowledge and yours--do not suffer it to bind you now. It is a fearful +disgrace to attach to my poor mother, and it is reflected upon me." + +"Were your father living, Annabel, should you say the disgrace was +also reflected upon _him_?" + +"Oh no, no. I could not do so. My good father! honourable and +honoured. Never upon him." + +I laughed a little at her want of logic. + +"Annabel, my dear, you have yourself answered the question. As I hold +you to my heart now, so will I, in as short a time as may be, hold you +in my home and at my hearth. Let what will betide, you shall have one +true friend to shelter and protect you with his care and love for ever +and for ever." + +Her tears were falling. + +"Oh please, please, Charles! I am sure it ought not to be. Aunt Lucy +would tell you so." + +Aunt Lucy came in at that moment, and proved to be on my side. She +would be going to Madeira at the close of the summer, and the +difficulty as to what was to be done then with Annabel had begun to +trouble her greatly. + +"I cannot take her with me, you see, Charles," she said. "In her +mother's precarious state, the child must not absent herself from +England. Still less can I leave her to her mother's care. Therefore I +think your proposal exactly meets the dilemma. I suppose matters have +been virtually settled between you for some little time now." + +"Oh, Aunt Lucy!" remonstrated Annabel, blushing furiously. + +"Well, my dear, and I say it is all for the best. If you can suggest a +better plan I am willing to hear it." + +Annabel sat silent, her head drooping. + +"I may tell you this much, child: your father looked forward to it and +approved it. Not that he would have allowed the marriage to take place +just yet had he lived; I am sure of that; but he is not living, and +circumstances alter cases." + +"I am sure he liked me, Miss Brightman," I ventured to put in, as +modestly as I could; "and I believe he would have consented to our +marriage." + +"Yes, he liked you very much; and so do I," she added, laughing. "I +wish I could say as much for Mrs. Brightman. The opposition, I fancy, +will come from her." + +"You think she will oppose it?" I said--and, indeed, the doubt had +lain in my own mind. + +"I am afraid so. Of course there will be nothing for it but patience. +Annabel cannot marry without her consent." + +How a word will turn the scales of our hopes and fears! That Mrs. +Brightman would oppose and wither our bright prospects came to me in +that moment with the certainty of conviction. + +"Come what come may, we will be true to each other," I whispered to +Annabel the next afternoon. We were standing at the end of the pier, +looking out upon the calm sea, flashing in the sunshine, and I +imprisoned her hand momentarily in mine. "If we have to exercise all +the patience your Aunt Lucy spoke of, we will still hope on, and put +our trust in Heaven." + +"Even so, Charles." The evening was yet early when I reached London, +and I walked home from the station. St. Mary's was striking half-past +seven as I passed it. At the self-same moment, an arm was inserted +into mine. I turned quickly, wondering if anyone had designs upon my +small hand-bag. + +"All right, Charley! I'm not a burglar." + +It was only Lake. "Why, Arthur! I thought you had gone to Oxford until +Monday!" + +"Got news last night that the fellow could not have me: had to go down +somewhere or other," he answered, as we walked along arm-in-arm. "I +say, I had a bit of a scare just now." + +"In what way?" + +"I thought I saw Tom pass. Tom Heriot," he added in a whisper. + +"Oh, but that's impossible, you know, Lake," I said, though I felt my +pulses quicken. "All your fancy." + +"It was just under that gas-lamp at the corner of Wellington Street," +Lake went on. "He was sauntering along as if he had nothing to do, +muffled in a coat that looked a mile too big for him, and a red +comforter. He lifted his face in passing, and stopped suddenly, as if +he had recognised me, and were going to speak; then seemed to think +better of it, turned on his heel and walked back the way he had been +coming. Charley, if it was not Tom Heriot, I never saw such a likeness +as that man bore to him." + +My lips felt glued. "It could not have been Tom Heriot, Lake. You know +Tom is at the antipodes. We will not talk of him, please. Are you +coming home with me?" + +"Yes. I was going on to Barlow's Chambers, but I'll come with you +instead." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +AN EVENING VISITOR. + + +The spring flowers were showing themselves, and the may was budding in +the hedges. I thought how charming it all looked, as I turned, this +Monday afternoon, into Mrs. Brightman's grounds, where laburnums +drooped their graceful blossoms, and lilacs filled the air with their +perfume; how significantly it all spoke to the heart of renewed life +after the gloom of winter, the death and decay of nature. + +Mrs. Brightman was herself, enjoying the spring-tide. She sat, robed +in crape, on a bench amidst the trees, on which the sun was shining. +What a refined, proud, handsome face was hers! but pale and somewhat +haggard now. No other trace of her recent illness was apparent, except +a nervous trembling of the hands. + +"This is a surprise," she said, holding out one of those hands to me +quite cordially. "I thought you had been too busy of late to visit me +in the day-time." + +"Generally I am very busy, but I made time to come to-day. I have +something of importance to say to you, Mrs. Brightman. Will you hear +me?" + +She paused to look at me--a searching, doubtful look. Did she fear +that I was about to speak to her of her _failing_? The idea occurred +to me. + +"Certainly," she coldly replied. "Business must, of course, be +attended to. Would you prefer to go indoors or to sit out here?" + +"I would rather remain here. I am not often favoured with such a +combination of velvet lawn and sunshine and sweet scents." + +She made room for me beside her. And, with as little circumlocution +as possible, I brought out what I wanted--Annabel. When the heart is +truly engaged, a man at these moments can only be bashful, especially +when he sees it will be an uphill fight; but if the heart has nothing +to do with the matter, he can be as cool and suave as though he were +merely telling an everyday story. + +Mrs. Brightman, hearing me to the end, rose haughtily. + +"Surely you do not know what you are saying!" she exclaimed. "Or is it +that I fail to understand you? You cannot be asking for the hand of my +daughter?" + +"Indeed--pardon me--I am. Mrs. Brightman, we----" + +"Pardon _me_," she interrupted, "but I must tell you that it is +utterly preposterous. Say no more, Mr. Strange; not another word. My +daughter cannot marry a professional man. _I_ did so, you may reply: +yes, and have forfeited my proper place in the world ever since." + +"Mr. Brightman would have given Annabel to me." + +"Possibly so, though I think not. As Mr. Brightman is no longer here, +we may let that supposition alone. And you must allow me to say this +much, sir--that it is scarcely seemly to come to me on any such +subject so soon after his death." + +"But----" I stopped in embarrassment, unable to give my reason for +speaking so soon. How could I tell Mrs. Brightman that it was to +afford Annabel a home and a protector: that this, her mother's home, +was not fitting for a refined and sensitive girl? + +But I pressed the suit. I told her I had Annabel's consent, and that I +had recently been with her at Hastings. I should like to have added +that I had Miss Brightman's, only that it might have done more harm +than good. I spoke very slightly of Miss Brightman's projected +departure from England, when her house would be shut up and Annabel +must leave Hastings. And I added that I wanted to make a home for her +by that time. + +I am sure she caught my implied meaning, for she grew agitated and her +hands shook as they lay on her crape dress. Her diamond rings, which +she had not discarded, flashed in the sunlight. But she rallied her +strength. All her pride rose up in rebellion. + +"My daughter has her own home, sir; her home with me--what do you +mean? During my illness, I have allowed her to remain with her aunt, +but she will shortly return to me." + +And when I would have urged further, and pleaded as for something +dearer than life, she peremptorily stopped me. + +"I will hear no more, Mr. Strange. My daughter is descended on my side +from the nobles of the land--you must forgive me for thus alluding to +it--and it is impossible that I can forget that, or allow her to do +so. Never, with my consent, will she marry out of that grade: a +professional man is, in rank, beneath her. This is my decision, and +it is unalterable. The subject is at an end, and I beg of you never +again to enter upon it." + +There was no chance of my pursuing it then, at any rate. Hatch came +from the house, a folded cloak on her arm, and approached her +mistress. + +"The carriage is at the gate, ma'am." + +Mrs. Brightman rose at once: she was going for a drive. After what had +just passed, I held out my arm to her with some hesitation. She put +the tips of her fingers within it, with a stiff "Thank you," and we +walked to the gate in silence. I handed her into the open carriage; +Hatch disposed the cloak upon her knees, assisted by the footman. With +a cold bow, Mrs. Brightman, who had already as coldly shaken hands +with me, drove away. + +Hatch, always ready for a gossip, stood within the little iron gate +while she spoke to me. + +"We be going away for a bit, sir," she began. "Did you know it?" + +"No. Mrs. Brightman has not mentioned the matter to me." + +"Well, we be, then," continued Hatch; "missis and me and Perry. Mr. +Close have got her to consent at last. I don't say that she was well +enough to go before; Close thought so, but I didn't. He wants her +gone, you see, Mr. Charles, to get that fancy out of her head about +master." + +"But does she still think she sees him?" + +"Not for the past few days," replied Hatch. "She has changed her +bedroom, and taken to the best spare one; and she has been better in +herself. Oh, she'll be all right now for a bit, if only----" + +"If only what?" I asked, for Hatch had paused. + +"Well, you know, sir. If only she can control herself. I'm certain she +is trying to," added Hatch. "There ain't one of us would be so glad to +find it got rid of for good and all as she'd be. She's put about +frightfully yet at Miss Annabel's knowing of it." + +"And where is it that you are going to?" + +"Missis talked of Cheltenham; it was early, she thought, for the +seaside; but this morning she got a Cheltenham newspaper up, and saw +that amid the company staying there were Captain and Lady Grace +Chantrey. 'I'm not going where my brother and that wife of his are,' +she says to me in a temper--for, as I dare say you've heard, Mr. +Charles, they don't agree. And now she talks of Brighton. Whatever +place she fixes on, Perry is to be sent on first to take lodgings." + +"Well, Hatch," I said, "the change from home will do your mistress +good. She is much better. I trust the improvement will be permanent." + +"Ah, if she would but take care! It all lies in that, sir," concluded +Hatch, as I turned away from the gate, and she went up the garden. + + * * * * * + +We must go back for a moment to the previous evening. Leaving behind +us the church of St. Clement Danes and its lighted windows, Lake and +I turned into Essex Street, arm-in-arm, went down it and reached my +door. I opened it with my latch-key. The hall-lamp was not lighted, +and I wondered at Watts's neglect. + +"Go on up to my room," I said to Lake. "I'll follow you in a moment." + +He bounded up the stairs, and the next moment Leah came up from the +kitchen with a lighted candle, her face white and terrified. + +"It is only myself, Leah. Why is the lamp not alight?" + +"Heaven be good to us, sir!" she cried. "I thought I heard somebody go +upstairs." + +"Mr. Lake has gone up." + +She dropped her candlestick upon the slab, and backed against the +wall, looking more white and terrified than ever. I thought she was +about to faint. + +"Mr. Charles! I feel as if I could die! I ought to have bolted the +front door." + +"But what for?" I cried, intensely surprised. "What on earth is the +matter, Leah?" + +"He is up there, sir! Up in your front sitting-room. I put out the +hall-lamp, thinking the house would be best in darkness." + +"Who is up there?" For in the moment's bewilderment I did not glance +at the truth. + +"Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot." + +"_Mr. Tom!_ Up there?" + +"Not many minutes ago, soon after Watts had gone out to church--for he +was late to-night--there came a ring at the doorbell," said Leah. "I +came up to answer it, thinking nothing. A rough-looking man stood, in +a wide-awake hat, close against the door there. 'Is Mr. Strange at +home?' said he, and walked right in. I knew his voice, and I knew him, +and I cried out. 'Don't be stupid, Leah; it's only me,' says he. 'Is +Mr. Charles upstairs? Nobody with him, I hope.' 'There's nobody to +come and put his head in the lion's mouth, as may be said, there at +all, sir,' said I; and up he went, like a lamplighter. I put the +hall-lamp out. I was terrified out of my senses, and told him you were +at Hastings, but I expected you in soon. And Mr. Charles," wound up +Leah, "I think he must have gone clean daft." + +"Light the lamp again," I replied. "It always _is_ alight, you know. +If the house is in darkness, you might have a policeman calling to +know what was the matter." + +Tom was in a fit of laughter when I got upstairs. He had taken off his +rough overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, and stood in a worn--very much +worn--suit of brown velveteen breeches and gaiters. Lake stared at him +over the table, a comical expression on his face. + +"Suppose we shake hands, to begin with," said Lake. And they clasped +hands heartily across the table. + +"Did you know me just now, in the Strand, Lake?" asked Tom Heriot. + +"I did," replied Lake, and his tone proved that he meant it. "I said +to Charley, here, that I had just seen a fellow very like Tom Heriot; +but I knew who it was, fast enough." + +"You wouldn't have known me, though, if I hadn't lifted my face to the +lamp-light. I forget myself at moments, you see," added Tom, after a +pause. "Meeting you unexpectedly, I was about to speak as in the old +days, and recollected myself only just in time. I say"--turning +himself about in his velveteens--"should you take me for a +gamekeeper?" + +"No, I should not: you don't look the thing at all," I put in testily, +for I was frightfully vexed with him altogether. "I thought you must +have been taken up by your especial friend, Wren. Twice have I been to +the trysting-place as agreed, but you did not appear." + +"No; but I think he nearly had me," replied Tom. + +"How was that?" + +"I'll tell you," he answered, as we all three took chairs round the +fire, and I stirred it into a blaze. "On the Wednesday I did not go +out at all; I told you I should not. On the Thursday, after dusk, I +went out to meet you, Charley. It was early, and I strolled in for a +smoke with Lee and a chat with Miss Betsy. The old man began at once: +'Captain Strange, Policeman Wren has been here, asking questions about +you.' It seems old Wren is well known in the neighbourhood----" + +"Captain Strange?" cried Lake. "Who is Captain Strange?" + +"I am--down there," laughed Tom. "Don't interrupt, please. 'What +questions?' I said to Lee. 'Oh, what your name was, and where you came +from, and if I had known you long, and what your ship was called,' +answered Lee. 'And you told him?' I asked. 'Well, I should have told +him, but for Betsy,' he said. 'Betsy spoke up, saying you were a +sailor-gentleman that came in to buy tobacco and newspapers; and that +was all he got out of us, not your name, captain, or anything. As +Betsy said to me afterwards, it was not our place to answer questions +about Captain Strange: if the policeman wanted to know anything, let +him apply to the captain himself. Which I thought good sense,' +concluded Lee. As it was." + +"Well, Tom?" + +"Well, I thought it about time to go straight home again," said Tom; +"and that's why I did not meet you, Charley. And the next day, Friday, +I cleared out of my diggings in that quarter of the globe, rigged +myself out afresh, and found other lodgings. I am nearer to you now, +Charley: vegetating in the wilds over Blackfriars Bridge." + +"How could you be so imprudent as to come here to-night? or to be seen +in so conspicuous a spot as the Strand?" + +"The fit took me to pay you a visit, old fellow. As to the Strand--it +is a fine thoroughfare, you know, and I had not set eyes on it since +last summer. I walked up and down a bit, listening to the church +bells, and looking about me." + +"You turn everything into ridicule, Tom." + +"Better that, Charley, than into sighing and groaning." + +"How did you know that Leah would open the door to you? Watts might +have done so." + +"I had it all cut-and-dried. 'Is Mrs. Brown at home?' I should have +said, in a voice Watts would never have known. 'Mrs. Brown don't live +here,' old Watts would have answered; upon which I should have +politely begged his pardon and walked off." + +"All very fine, Tom, and you may think yourself amazingly clever; but +as sure as you are living, you will run these risks once too often." + +"Not I. Didn't I give old Leah a scare! You should have heard her +shriek." + +"Suppose it had been some enemy--some stickler for law and +justice--that I had brought home with me to-night, instead of Lake?" + +"But it wasn't," laughed Tom. "It was Lake himself. And I guess he is +as safe as you are." + +"Be sure of that," added Lake. "But what do you think of doing, +Heriot? You cannot hide away for ever in the wilds of Blackfriars. _I_ +would not answer for your safety there for a day." + +"Goodness knows!" said Tom. "Perhaps Charley could put me up here--in +one of his top bedrooms?" + +Whether he spoke in jest or earnest, I knew not. He might remember +that I was running a risk in concealing him even for an hour or two. +Were it discovered, the law might make me answer for it. + +"I should like something to eat, Charley." + +Leaving him with Lake, I summoned Leah, and bade her bring up quickly +what she had. She speedily appeared with the tray. + +"Good old Leah!" said Tom to her. "That ham looks tempting." + +"Mr. Tom, if you go on like this, loitering in the open streets and +calling at houses, trouble will overtake you," returned Leah, in much +the same tone she had used to reprimand him when a child. "I wonder +what your dear, good mother would say to it if she saw you throwing +yourself into peril. Do you remember, sir, how often she would beg of +you to be good?" + +"My mother!" repeated Tom, who was in one of his lightest moods. "Why, +you never saw her. She was dead and buried and gone to heaven before +you knew anything of us." + +"Ah well, Master Tom, you know I mean Mrs. Heriot--afterwards Mrs. +Strange. It wouldn't be you, sir, if you didn't turn everything into a +jest. She was a good mother to you all." + +"That she was, Leah. Excused our lessons for the asking, and fed us on +jam." + +He was taking his supper rapidly the while; for, of course, he had to +be away before church was over and Watts was home again. The man might +have been true and faithful; little doubt of it; but it would have +added one more item to the danger. + +Lake went out and brought a cab; and Tom, his wide-awake low on his +brow, his rough coat on, and his red comforter round about his throat, +vaulted into it, to be conveyed over Blackfriars Bridge to any point +that he might choose to indicate. + +"It is an amazing hazard his going about like this," cried Lake, as we +sat down together in front of the fire. "He must be got out of England +as quickly as possible." + +"But he won't go." + +"Then, mark my words, Charles, bad will come of it." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +RESTITUTION. + + +Time had gone on--weeks and weeks--though there is little to tell of +passing events. Things generally remained pretty much as they had +been. The Levels were abroad again. Mrs. Brightman on the whole was +better, but had occasional relapses; Annabel spent most of her time at +Hastings; and Tom Heriot had not yet been taken. + +Tom was now at an obscure fishing village on the coast of Scotland, +passing himself off as a fisherman, owning a small boat and pretending +to fish. This did not allay our anxiety, which was almost as great as +ever. Still, it was something to have him away from London. Out of +Great Britain he refused to move. + +Does the reader remember George Coney's money, that so strangely +disappeared the night of Mr. Brightman's death? From that hour to this +nothing has been seen or heard of it: but the time for it was now at +hand. And what I am about to relate may appear a very common-place +ending to a mystery--though, indeed, it was not yet quite the ending. +In my capacity of story-teller I could have invented a hundred +romantic incidents, and worked them and the reader up to a high point +of interest; but I can only record the incident as it happened, and +its termination was a very matter-of-fact one. + +I was sitting one evening in the front room: a sitting-room now--I +think this has been said before--smoking my after-dinner cigar. The +window was open to the summer air, which all day long had been +intensely hot. A letter received in the morning from Gloucestershire +from Mr. Coney, to which his son had scrawled a postscript: "Has that +bag turned up yet?" had set me thinking of the loss, and from that I +fell to thinking of the loss of the Clavering will, which had followed +close upon it. Edmund Clavering, by the way, had been with me that day +to impart some news. He was going to be married--to a charming girl, +too--and we were discussing settlements. My Lady Clavering, he said, +was figuring at Baden-Baden, and report ran that she was about to +espouse a French count with a fierce moustache. + +Presently I took up the _Times_, not opened before that day, and was +deep in a police case, which had convulsed the court in Marlborough +Street with laughter, and was convulsing me, when a vehicle dashed +down Essex Street. It was the van of the Parcels Delivery Company. + +"Mr. Strange live here?" was the question I heard from the man who had +descended from the seat beside the driver, when Watts went out. + +"All right," said Watts. + +"Here's a parcel for him. Nothing to pay." + +The driver whipped up his horse, then turned sharply round, +and--overturned the van. It was not the first accident of a similar +nature, or the last by many, that I have seen in that particular spot. +How it is I don't know, but drivers, especially cabmen, have an +unconquerable propensity for pulling their horses round in a +perilously short fashion at the bottom of Essex Street, and sometimes +the result is that they come to grief. I threw down my newspaper and +leaned out at the window watching the fun. The street was covered with +parcels, and the driver and his friend were throwing off their +consternation in choice language. One hamper could not be picked up: +it had contained wine loosely packed, and the broken bottles were +lying in a red pool. Where the mob collected from, that speedily +arrived to assist, was a marvel. The van at length took its departure +up the street, considerably shorn of the triumph with which it had +dashed down. + +This had taken up a considerable space of time, and it was growing too +dark to resume my newspaper. Turning from the window, I proceeded to +examine the parcel which Watts had brought up on its arrival and +placed on the table. It was about a foot square, wrapped in brown +paper, sealed and tied with string; and, in what Tony Lumpkin would +have called a confounded cramped, up-and-down hand, where you could +not tell an izzard from an R, was directed "C. Strange, Esquire." + +I took out my penknife, cut the string, and removed the paper; and +there was disclosed a pasteboard-box with green edges, also sealed. I +opened it, and from a mass of soft paper took out a small canvas bag, +tied round with tape, and containing thirty golden sovereigns! + +From the very depth of my conviction I believed it to be the bag we +had lost. It was the bag; for, on turning it round, there were Mr. +Coney's initials, S. C., neatly marked with blue cotton, as they had +been on the one left by George. It was one of their sample barley +bags. I wondered if they were the same sovereigns. Where had it been? +Who had taken it? And who had returned it? + +I rang the bell, and then called to Watts, who was coming up to answer +it, to bring Leah also. It was my duty to tell them, especially Leah, +of the money's restitution, as they had been inmates of the house when +it was lost. + +Watts only stared and ejaculated; but Leah, with some colour, for +once, in her pale cheeks, clasped her hands. "Oh, sir, I'm thankful +you have found it again!" she exclaimed. "I'm heartily thankful!" + +"So am I, Leah, though the mystery attending the transaction is as +great as ever; indeed, more so." + +It certainly was. They went down again, and I sat musing over the +problem. But nothing could I make out of it. One moment I argued that +the individual taking it (whomsoever it might be) must have had +temporary need of funds, and, the difficulty over, had now restored +the money. The next, I wondered whether anyone could have taken the +bag inadvertently, and had now discovered it. I locked the bag safely +up, wrote a letter to George Coney, and then went out to confide the +news to Arthur Lake. + +Taking the short cuts and passages that lead from Essex Street to the +Temple, as I generally did when bound for Lake's chambers, I was +passing onwards, when I found myself called to--or I thought so. +Standing still in the shade, leaning against the railings of the +Temple Gardens, was a slight man of middle height: and he seemed to +say "Charley." + +Glancing in doubt, half stopping as I did so, yet thinking I must have +been mistaken, I was passing on, when the voice came again. + +"Charley!" + +I stopped then. And I declare that in the revulsion it brought me you +might have knocked me down with a feather; for it was Tom Heriot. + +"I was almost sure it was you, Charles," he said in a low voice; "but +not quite sure." + +I had not often had such a scare as this. My heart, with pain and +dismay, beat as if it meant to burst its bonds. + +"Can it possibly be _you_?" I cried. "What brings you here? Why have +you come again?" + +"Reached London this morning. Came here when dusk set in, thinking I +might have the luck to see you or Lake, Charley." + +"But why have you left Scotland? You were safer there." + +"Don't know that I was. And I had grown tired to death of it." + +"It will end in death, or something like it, if you persist in staying +here." + +Tom laughed his gay, ringing laugh. I looked round to see that no one +was about, or within hearing. + +"What a croaker you are, old Charley! I'm sure you ought to kill the +fatted calf, to celebrate my return from banishment." + +"But, Tom, you _know_ how dangerous it is, and must be, for you to be +here in London." + +"And it was becoming dangerous up there," he quickly rejoined. "Since +the summer season set in, those blessed tourists are abroad again, +with their staves and knapsacks. No place is safe from them, and the +smaller and more obscure it is, the more they are sure to find it. The +other day I was in my boat in my fishing toggery, as usual, when a +fellow comes up, addresses me as 'My good man,' and plunges into +queries touching the sea and the fishing-trade. Now who do you think +that was, Charles?" + +"I can't say." + +"It was James Lawless, Q.C.--the leader who prosecuted at my trial." + +"Good heavens!" + +"I unfastened the boat, keeping my back to him and my face down, and +shot off like a whirlwind, calling out that I was behind time, and +must put out. I took good care, Charles, not to get back before the +stars were bright in the night sky." + +"Did he recognise you?" + +"No--no. For certain, no. But he would have done so had I stayed to +talk. And it is not always that I could escape as I did then. You must +see that." + +I saw it all too plainly. + +"So I thought it best to make myself scarce, Charles, and leave the +tourists' haunts. I sold my boat; no difficulty in that; though, of +course, the two men who bought it shaved me; and came over to London +as fast as a third-class train would bring me. Dare not put my nose +into a first-class carriage, lest I should drop upon some one of my +old chums." + +"Of all places, Tom, you should not have chosen London." + +"Will you tell me, old fellow, what other place I could have pitched +upon?" + +And I could not tell. + +"Go where I will," he continued, "it seems that the Philistines are +likely to find me out." + +We were pacing about now, side by side, keeping in the shade as much +as possible, and speaking under our breath. + +"You will have to leave the country, Tom; you must do it. And go +somewhere over the seas." + +"To Van Diemen's Land, perhaps," suggested Tom. + +"Now, be quiet. The subject is too serious for jesting. I should +think--perhaps--America. But I must have time to consider. Where do +you mean to stay at present? Where are you going to-night?" + +"I've been dodging about all day, not showing up much; but I'm going +now to where I lodged last, down Blackfriars way. You remember?" + +"Yes, I remember: it is not so long ago." + +"It is as safe as any other quarter, for aught I can tell. Any way, I +don't know of another." + +"Are you well, Tom?" I asked. He was looking thin, and seemed to have +a nasty cough upon him. + +"I caught cold some time ago, and it hangs about me," he replied. "Oh, +I shall be all right now I'm here," he added carelessly. + +"You ought to take a good jorum of something hot when you get to bed +to-night----" + +Tom laughed. "I _am_ likely to get anything of that sort in any +lodging I stand a chance of to-night. Well done, Charley! I haven't +old Leah to coddle me." + +And somehow the mocking words made me realize the discomforts and +deprivations of Tom Heriot's present life. How would it all end? + +We parted with a hand-shake: he stealing off on his way to his +lodging, I going thoughtfully on mine. It was a calm summer evening, +clear and lovely, the stars twinkling in the sky, but all its peace +had gone out for me. + +It was impossible to foresee what the ending would or could be. At +any moment Tom might be recognised and captured, so long as he +inhabited London; and it might be difficult to induce him to leave it. +Still more difficult to cause him to depart altogether for other lands +and climes. + +Not long before, I had consulted with Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar as to +the possibility of obtaining a pardon for Tom. That he had not been +guilty was indisputable, though the law had deemed him so. But the +Serjeant had given me no encouragement that any such movement would be +successful. The very fact, as he pointed out, of Tom Heriot's having +escaped clandestinely, would tell against him. What, I said then, if +Tom gave himself up? He smiled, and told me I had better not ask his +opinion upon the practical points of the case. + +So the old trouble was back again in full force, and I knew not how to +cope with it. + + * * * * * + +The summer sun, glowing with light and heat, lay full upon Hastings +and St. Leonard's. The broad expanse of sea sparkled beneath it; the +houses that looked on the water were burning and blistering under the +fierce rays. Miss Brightman, seated at her drawing-room window, +knitting in hand, observed that it was one of the most dazzling days +she remembered. + +The remark was made to me and to Annabel. We sat at the table +together, looking over a book of costly engravings that Miss Brightman +had recently bought. "I shall leave it with you, Charles," she said, +"when I go away; you will take care of it. And if it were not that you +are tied to London, and it would be too far for you to go up and down +daily, I would leave you my house also--that you might live in it, and +take care of that during my absence." + +Mrs. Brightman had come to her senses. Very much, I confess, to my +astonishment, much also I think to Annabel's, she had put aside her +prejudices and consented to our marriage. The difficulty of where her +daughter was to be during Miss Brightman's sojourn in Madeira had in +a degree paved the way for it. Annabel would, of course, have returned +to her mother; she begged hard to be allowed to do so: she believed it +her duty to be with her. But Miss Brightman would not hear of it, and, +had she yielded, I should have interposed my veto in Mr. Brightman's +name. In Hatch's words, strong in sense but weak in grammar, "their +home wasn't no home for Miss Annabel." + +Mrs. Brightman could only be conscious of this. During her sojourn at +Brighton, and for some little time after her return home, she had been +very much better; had fought resolutely with the insidious foe, and +conquered. But alas! she fell away again. Now she was almost as bad as +ever; tolerably sober by day, very much the opposite by night. + +Miss Brightman, dating forward, seeing, as she feared, only shoals and +pitfalls, and most anxious for Annabel, had journeyed up to Clapham to +her sister-in-law, and stayed there with her a couple of days. What +passed between them even Hatch never knew; but she did know that her +mistress was brought to a penitent and subdued frame of mind, and that +she promised Lucy Brightman, with many tears, to _strive_ to overcome +her fatal habit for the good God's sake. And it was during this visit +that she withdrew her opposition to the marriage; when Miss Brightman +returned home she carried the consent with her. + +And my present visit to Hastings was to discuss time and place and +other matters; more particularly the question of where our home was to +be. A large London house we were not yet rich enough to set up, and I +would not take Annabel to an inferior one; but I had seen a charming +little cottage at Richmond that might suit us--if she liked the +locality. + +Closing the book of engravings, I turned to Miss Brightman, and +entered upon the subject. Suddenly her attention wavered. It seemed to +be attracted by something in the road. + +"Why, bless my heart, _it is_!" she cried in astonishment. "If ever I +saw Hatch in my life, that is Hatch--coming up the street! Annabel, +child, give me the glasses." + +The glasses were on the table, and I handed them to her. Annabel flew +to the window and grew white. She was never free from fears of what +might happen in her mother's house. Hatch it was, and apparently in +haste. + +"What can be the matter?" she gasped. "Oh, Aunt Lucy!" + +"Hatch is nodding heartily, as if not much were wrong," remarked Miss +Brightman, who was watching her through the glasses. "Hatch is +peculiar in manner, as you are aware, Mr. Charles, but she means no +disrespect by it." + +I smiled. I knew Hatch quite as well as Miss Brightman knew her. + +"Now what brings you to Hastings?" she exclaimed, rising from her +chair, when Hatch was shown in. + +"My missis brought me, ma'am," returned Hatch, with composure. "Miss +Annabel, you be looking frighted, but there's nothing wrong. Yesterday +morning, all in a flurry like, your mamma took it into her head to +come down here, and we drove down with----" + +"_Drove_ down?" + +"Yes, ma'am, with four posters to the carriage. My missis can't abear +the rail; she says folks stare at her: and here we be at the Queen's +Hotel, she, and me, and Perry." + +"Would you like to take a chair, Hatch?" said Miss Brightman. + +"My legs is used to standing, ma'am," replied Hatch, with a nod of +thanks, "and I've not much time to linger. It was late last night when +we got here. This morning, up gets my missis, and downstairs she comes +to her breakfast in her sitting-room, and me with her to wait upon +her, for sometimes her hands is shaky, and she prefers me to Perry or +anybody else----" + +"How has your mistress been lately?" interposed Miss Brightman. + +"Better, ma'am. Not always quite the thing, though a deal better on +the whole. But I must get on about this morning," added Hatch +impressively. "'Waiter,' says my missis when the man brings up the +coffee. 'Mum?' says he. 'I am subject to spadical attacks in the +chest,' says she, 'and should like to have some brandy in my room: +they take me sometimes in the middle of the night. Put a bottle into +it, the very best French, and a corkscrew. Or you may as well put two +bottles,' she goes on; 'I may be here some time.' 'It shall be done, +mum,' says he. I was as vexed as I could be to hear it," broke off +Hatch, "but what could I do? I couldn't contradict my missis and tell +the man that no brandy must be put in her room, or else she'd drink +it. Well, ma'am, I goes down presently to my own breakfast with Perry, +and while we sat at it a chambermaid comes through the room: 'I've put +two bottles of brandy in the lady's bedroom, as was ordered,' says +she. With that Perry looks at me all in a fluster--he have no more +wits to turn things off than a born idiot. 'Very well,' says I to her, +eating at my egg as if I thought nothing; 'I hopes my missis won't +have no call to use 'em, but she's took awful bad in the chest +sometimes, and it's as well for us to be ready.' 'I'm sure I pities +her,' says the girl, 'for there ain't nothing worse than spasms. I has +'em myself occasional----'" + +When once Hatch was in the full flow of a narrative, there was no +getting in a word edgeways, and Miss Brightman had to repeat her +question twice: "Does Perry know the nature of the illness that +affects Mrs. Brightman?" + +"Why, in course he does, ma'am," was Hatch's rejoinder. "He couldn't +be off guessing it for himself, and the rest I told him. Why, ma'am, +without his helping, we could never keep it dark from the servants at +home. It was better to make a confidant of Perry, that I might have +his aid in screening the trouble, than to let it get round to +everybody. He's as safe and sure as I be, and when it all first came +out to him, he cried over it, to think of what his poor master must +have suffered in mind before death took him. Well, ma'am, I made haste +over my breakfast, and I went upstairs, and there was the bottles and +the corkscrew, so I whips 'em off the table and puts them out of +sight. Mrs. Brightman comes up presently, and looks about and goes +down again. Three separate times she comes up, and the third time she +gives the bell a whirl, and in runs the chambermaid, who was only +outside. 'I gave orders this morning,' says my lady, 'to have some +brandy placed in the room.' 'Oh, I have got the brandy,' says I, +before the girl could speak; 'I put it in the little cupboard here, +ma'am.' So away goes the girl, looking from the corners of her eyes at +me, as if suspicious I meant to crib it for my own use: and my +mistress began: 'Draw one of them corks, Hatch.' 'No, ma'am,' says I, +'not yet; please don't.' 'Draw 'em both,' says missis--for there are +times," added Hatch, "when a trifle puts her out so much that it's +hazardous to cross her. I drew the cork of one, and missis just +pointed with her finger to the tumbler on the wash-handstand, and I +brought it forward and the decanter of water. 'Now you may go,' says +she; so I took up the corkscrew. 'I told you to leave that,' says she, +in her temper, and I had to come away without it, and the minute I was +gone she turned the key upon me. Miss Annabel, I see the words are +grieving of you, but they are the truth, and I can but tell them." + +"Is she there now--locked in?" asked Miss Brightman. + +"She's there now," returned Hatch, with solemn enunciation, to make up +for her failings in grammar, which was never anywhere in times of +excitement; "she is locked in with them two bottles and the corkscrew, +and she'll just drink herself mad--and what's to be done? I goes at +once to Perry and tells him. 'Let's get in through the winder,' says +Perry--which his brains is only fit for a gander, as I've said many a +time. 'You stop outside her door to listen again downright harm,' says +I, 'that's what you'll do; and I'll go for Miss Brightman.' And here +I'm come, ma'am, running all the way." + +"What can I do?" wailed Miss Brightman. + +"Ma'am," answered Hatch, "I think that if you'll go back with me, and +knock at her room door, and call out that you be come to pay her a +visit, she'd undo it. She's more afeared of you than of anybody +living. She can't have done herself much harm yet, and you might coax +her out for a walk or a drive, and then bring her in to dinner +here--anything to get her away from them two dangerous bottles. If I +be making too free, ma'am, you'll be good enough to excuse me--it is +for the family's sake. At home I can manage her pretty well, but to +have a scene at the hotel would make it public." + +"What is to be the ending?" I exclaimed involuntarily as Miss +Brightman went in haste for her bonnet. + +"Why, the ending must be--just what it will be," observed Hatch +philosophically. "But, Mr. Charles, I don't despair of her yet. +Begging your pardon, Miss Annabel, you'd better not come. Your mamma +won't undo her door if she thinks there's many round it." + +Annabel stood at the window as they departed, her face turned from me, +her eyes blinded with tears. I drew her away, though I hardly knew how +to soothe her. It was a heavy grief to bear. + +"My days are passed in dread of what tidings may be on the way to me," +she began, after a little time given to gathering composure. "I ought +to be nearer my mother, Charles; I tell Aunt Lucy so almost every day. +She might be ill and dead before I could get to her, up in London." + +"And you will be nearer to her shortly, Annabel. My dear, where shall +our home be? I was thinking of Richmond----" + +"No, no," she interrupted in sufficient haste to show me she had +thoughts of her own. + +"Annabel! It shall not be _there_: at your mother's. Anywhere else." + +"It is somewhere else that I want to be." + +"Then you shall be. Where is it?" + +She lifted her face like a pleading child's, and spoke in a whisper. +"Charles, let me come to you in Essex Street." + +"_Essex Street!_" I echoed in surprise. "My dear Annabel, I will +certainly not bring you to Essex Street and its inconveniences. I +cannot do great things for you yet, but I can do better than that." + +"They would not be inconveniences to me. I would turn them into +pleasures. We would take another servant to help Watts and Leah; or +two if necessary. You would not find me the least encumbrance; I would +never be in the way of your professional rooms. And in the evening, +when you had finished for the day, we would dine, and go down to +mamma's for an hour, and then back again. Charles, it would be a +happy home: let me come to it." + +But I shook my head. I did not see how it could be arranged; and said +so. + +"No, because at present the idea is new to you," returned Annabel. +"_Think it over_, Charles. Promise me that you will do so." + +"Yes, my dear; I can at least promise you that." + +There was less trouble with Mrs. Brightman that day than had been +anticipated. She opened her door at once to her sister-in-law, who +brought her back to the Terrace. Hatch had been wise. In the afternoon +we all went for a drive in a fly, and returned to dinner. And the +following day Mrs. Brightman, with her servants, departed for London +in her travelling-carriage, no scandal whatever having been caused at +the Queen's Hotel. I went up by train early in the morning. + +It is surprising how much thinking upon a problem simplifies it. I +began to see by degrees that Annabel's coming to Essex Street could +be easily managed; nay, that it would be for the best. Miss Brightman +strongly advocated it. At present a large portion of my income had to +be paid over to Mrs. Brightman in accordance with her husband's will, +so that I could not do as I would, and must study economy. Annabel +would be rich in time; for Mrs. Brightman's large income, vested at +present in trustees, must eventually descend to Annabel; but that time +was not yet. And who knew what expenses Tom Heriot might bring upon +me? + +Changes had to be made in the house. I determined to confine the +business rooms to the ground floor; making Miss Methold's parlour, +which had not been much used since her death, my own private +consulting-room. The front room on the first floor would be our +drawing-room, the one behind it the dining-room. + +Leah was in an ecstasy when she heard the news. The workmen were +coming in to paint and paper, and then I told her. + +"Of course, Mr. Charles, it--is----" + +"Is what, Leah?" + +"Miss Annabel." + +"It should be no one else, Leah. We shall want another servant or two, +but you can still be major-domo." + +"If my poor master had only lived to see it!" she uttered, with +enthusiasm. "How happy he would have been; how proud to have her here! +Well, well, what turns things take!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +CONFESSION. + + +October came in; and we were married early in the month, the wedding +taking place from Mrs. Brightman's residence, as was of course only +right and proper. It was so very quiet a wedding that there is not the +least necessity for describing it--and how can a young man be expected +to give the particulars of his own? Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar was +present; Lord and Lady Level, now staying in London, drove down for +it; and Captain Chantrey gave his niece away. For Mrs. Brightman had +chosen to request him to accept her invitation to do so, and to be +accompanied by his wife, Lady Grace. Miss Brightman was also present, +having travelled up from Hastings the day before. Three or four days +later on, she would sail for Madeira. + +I could not spare more than a fortnight from work, leaving Lennard as +my locum tenens. Annabel would have been glad to spare less, for she +was haunted by visions of what might happen to her mother. Though +there was no especial cause for anxiety in that quarter just now, she +could never feel at ease. And on my part I was more anxious than ever +about Tom Heriot, for more reasons than one. + +The fortnight came to an end, all too soon: and late on the Saturday +evening we reached home. Watts threw open the door, and there stood +Leah in a silk gown. The drawing-room, gayer than it used to be, was +bright with a fire and preparations for tea. + +"How homelike it looks!" exclaimed Annabel. "Charles," she whispered, +turning to me with her earnest eyes, as she had been wont to do when a +child: "I will not make the least noise when you have clients with +you. You shall not know I am in the house: I will take care not to +drop even a reel of cotton on the carpet. I do thank you for letting +me come to Essex Street: I should not have seemed so completely your +wife had you taken me to any but your old home." + +The floors above were also in order, their chambers refurnished. Leah +went up to them with her new mistress, and I went down to the clerks' +office, telling Annabel I should not be there five minutes. One of the +clerks, Allen, had waited; but I had expected Lennard. + +"Is Mr. Lennard not here?" I asked. "Did he not wait? I wrote to him +to do so." + +"Mr. Lennard has not been here all day, sir," was Allen's reply. "A +messenger came from him this morning, to say he was ill." + +We were deep in letters and other matters, I and Allen, when the front +door opened next the office door, and there stood Arthur Lake, +laughing, a light coat on his arm. + +"Fancy! I've been down the river for a blow," cried he. "Just landed +at the pier here. Seeing lights in your windows, I thought you must +have got back, Charley." + +We shook hands, and he stayed a minute, talking. Then, wishing +good-night to Allen, he backed out of the room, making an almost +imperceptible movement to me with his head. I followed him out, +shutting the office door behind me. Lake touched my arm and drew me +outside. + +"I suppose you've not heard from Tom Heriot since you were away," +breathed Lake, in cautious tones, as we stood together on the outer +step. + +"No; I did not expect to hear. Why?" + +"I saw him three days ago," whispered Lake. "I had a queer-looking +letter on Wednesday morning from one Mr. Dominic Turk, asking me to +call at a certain place in Southwark. Of course, I guessed it was +Tom, and that he had moved his lodgings again; and I found I was +right." + +"Dominic Turk!" I repeated. "Does he call himself _that_?" + +Lake laughed. "He is passing now for a retired schoolmaster. Says he's +sure nobody can doubt he is one as long as he sticks to that name." + +"How is he? Has any fresh trouble turned up? I'm sure you've something +bad to tell me." + +"Well, Charley, honestly speaking, it is a bad look-out, in more ways +than one," he answered. "He is very ill, to begin with; also has an +idea that a certain policeman named Wren has picked up an inkling of +his return, and is trying to unearth him. But," added Lake, "we can't +very well talk in this place. I've more to say----" + +"Come upstairs, and take tea with me and Annabel," I interrupted. + +"Can't," said he; "my dinner's waiting. I'm back two hours later than +I expected to be; it has been frizzling, I expect, all the time. +Besides, old fellow, I'd rather you and I were alone. There's fearful +peril looming ahead, unless I'm mistaken. Can you come round to my +chambers to-morrow afternoon?" + +"No: we are going to Mrs. Brightman's after morning service." + +"It must be left until Monday, then; but I don't think there's much +time to be lost. Good-night." + +Lake hastened up the street, and I returned to Allen and the letters. + +With this interruption, and with all I found to do, the five minutes' +absence I had promised my wife lengthened into twenty. At last the +office was closed for the night, Allen left, and I ran upstairs, +expecting to have kept Annabel waiting tea. She was not in the +drawing-room, the tea was not made, and I went up higher and found her +sobbing in the bedroom. It sent me into a cold chill. + +"My love, what is this? Are you disappointed? Are you not happy?" + +"Oh, Charles," she sobbed, clinging to me, "you _know_ I am happy. It +is not that. But I could not help thinking of my father. Leah got +talking about him; and I remembered once his sitting in that very +chair, holding me on his knee. I must have been about seven years old. +Miss Methold was ill----" + +At that moment there came a knock and a ring at the front door. Not a +common knock and ring, but sharp, loud and prolonged, resounding +through the house as from some impatient messenger of evil. It +startled us both. Annabel's fears flew to her mother; mine to a +different quarter, for Lake's communication was troubling and +tormenting me. + +"Charles! if----" + +"Hush, dear. Listen." + +As we stood outside on the landing, her heart beating against my +encircling hand, and our senses strained to listen, we heard Watts +open the front door. + +"Has Mr. Strange come home?" cried a voice hurriedly--that of a +woman. + +"Yes," said Watts. + +"Can I speak to him? It is on a matter of life and death." + +"Where do you come from?" asked Watts, with habitual caution. + +"I come from Mr. Lennard. Oh, pray do not waste time!" + +"All right, my darling; it is not from your mother," I whispered to +Annabel, as I ran down. + +A young woman stood at the foot of the stairs; I was at a loss to +guess her condition in life. She had the face and manner of a lady, +but her dress was poor and shabby. + +"I have come from my father, sir--Mr. Lennard," she said in a low +tone, blushing very much. "He is dangerously ill: we fear he is dying, +and so does he. He bade me say that he must see you, or he cannot die +in peace. Will you please be at the trouble of coming?" + +One hasty word despatched to my wife, and I went out with Miss +Lennard, hailing a cab, which had just set down its freight some +doors higher up. "What is the matter with your father?" I questioned, +as we whirled along towards Blackfriars Bridge, in accordance with her +directions. + +"It is an attack of inward inflammation," she replied. "He was taken +ill suddenly last night after he got home from the office, and he has +been in great agony all day. This evening he grew better; the pain +almost subsided; but the doctor said that might not prove a favourable +symptom. My father asked for the truth--whether he was dying, and the +answer was that he might be. Then my father grew terribly uneasy in +mind, and said he must see you if possible before he died--and sent me +to ascertain, sir, whether you had returned home." + +The cab drew up at a house in a side street, a little beyond +Blackfriars Bridge. We entered, and Miss Lennard left me in the front +sitting-room. The remnants of faded gentility were strangely mixed +with bareness and poverty. Poor Lennard was a gentleman born and bred, +but had been reduced by untoward misfortune. Trifling ornaments stood +about; "antimacassars" were thrown over the shabby chairs. Miss +Lennard had gone upstairs, but came down quickly. + +"It is the door on the left, sir, on the second landing," said she, +putting a candle in my hand. "My father is anxiously expecting you, +but says I am not to go up." + +It was a small landing, nothing in front of me but a bare white-washed +wall, and _two_ doors to the left. I blundered into the wrong one. A +night-cap border turned on the bed, and a girlish face looked up from +under it. + +"What do you want?" she said. + +"Pardon me. I am in search of Mr. Lennard." + +"Oh, it is the next room. But--sir! wait a moment. Oh, wait, wait!" + +I turned to her in surprise, and she put up two thin white hands in an +imploring attitude. "Is it anything bad? Have you come to take him?" + +"To take him! What do you mean?" + +"You are not a sheriff's officer?" + +I smiled at her troubled countenance. "I am Mr. Strange--come to see +how he is." + +Down fell her hands peacefully. "Sir, I beg your pardon: thank you for +telling me. I know papa has sometimes been in apprehension, and I lie +here and fear things till I am stupid. A strange step on the stairs, +or a strange knock at the door, sets me shaking." + +The next room was the right one, and Lennard was lying in it on a low +bed; his face looked ghastly, his eyes wildly anxious. + +"Lennard," I said, "I am sorry to hear of your illness. What's the +matter?" + +"Sit down, Mr. Strange; sit down," he added, pointing to a chair, +which I drew near. "It is an attack of inflammation: the pain has +ceased now, but the doctor says it is an uncertain symptom: it may be +for better, or it may be for worse. If the latter, I have not many +hours to live." + +"What brought it on?" + +"I don't know: unless it was that I drank a draught of cold water +when I was hot. I have not been very strong for some time, and a +little thing sends me into a violent heat. I had a long walk, four +miles, and I made nearly a run of it half the way, being pressed for +time. When I got in, I asked Leah for some water, and drank two +glasses of it, one after the other. It seemed to strike a chill to me +at the time." + +"It was at the office, then. Four miles! Why did you not ride?" + +"It was not your business I was out on, sir; it was my own. But +whether that was the cause or not, the illness came on, and it cannot +be remedied now. If I am to die, I must die; God is over all: but I +cannot go without making a confession to you. How the fear of death's +approach alters a man's views and feelings!" he went on, in a +different tone. "Yesterday, had I been told I must make this +confession to you, I should have said, Let me die, rather; but it +appears to me now to be an imperative duty, and one I must nerve +myself to perform." + +Lennard lay on his pillow, and looked fixedly at me, and I not less +fixedly at him. What, in the shape of a "confession," could he have to +make to me? He had been managing clerk in Mr. Brightman's office long +before I was in it, a man of severe integrity, and respected by all. + +"The night Mr. Brightman died," he began under his panting breath, +"the bag of gold was missing--George Coney's. You remember it." + +"Well?" + +"I took it." + +Was Lennard's mind wandering? He was no more likely to take gold than +I was. I sat still, gazing at him. + +"Yes, it was I who took it, sir. Will you hear the tale?" + +A deep breath, and the drawing of my chair closer to his bedside, was +my only answer. + +"You are a young man, Mr. Strange. I have taken an interest in you +since you first came, a lad, into the office, and were under my +authority--Charles, do this; Charles, do the other. Not that I have +shown any especial interest, for outwardly I am cold and +undemonstrative; but I saw what you were, and liked you in my heart. +You are a young man yet, I say; but, liking you, hoping for your +welfare, I pray Heaven that it may never be your fate, in after-life, +to be trammelled with misfortunes as I have been. For me they seem to +have had no end, and the worst of them in later years has been that +brought upon me by an undutiful and spendthrift son." + +In a moment there flashed into my mind _my_ later trouble in Tom +Heriot: I seemed to be comparing the one with the other. "Have you +been trammelled with an undutiful son?" I said aloud. + +"I have been, and am," replied Lennard. "It has been my later cross. +The first was that of losing my property and position in life, for, as +you know, Mr. Strange, I was born and reared a gentleman. The last +cross has been Leonard--that is his name, Leonard Lennard--and it has +been worse than the first, for it has kept us _down_, and in a +perpetual ferment for years. It has kept us poor amongst the poor: my +salary, as you know, is a handsome one, but it has chiefly to be +wasted upon him." + +"What age is he?" + +"Six-and-twenty yesterday." + +"Then you are not forced to supply his extravagance, to find money for +his faults and follies. You are not obliged to let him keep you down." + +"By law, no," sighed poor Lennard. "But these ill-doing sons sometimes +entwine themselves around your very heartstrings; far rather would you +suffer and suffer than not ward off the ill from them. He has tried +his hand at many occupations, but remains at none; the result is +always trouble: and yet his education and intellect, his good looks +and perfect, pleasant manners, would fit him for almost any +responsible position in life. But he is reckless. Get into what scrape +he would, whether of debt, or worse, here he was sure of a refuge and +a welcome; I received him, his mother and sisters loved him. One of +them is bedridden," he added, in an altered tone. + +"I went first by mistake into the next room. I probably saw her." + +"Yes, that's Maria. It is a weakness that has settled in her legs; +some chronic affection, I suppose; and there she has lain for ten +months. With medical attendance and sea air she might be restored, +they tell me, but I can provide neither. Leonard's claims have been +too heavy." + +"But should you waste means on him that ought to be applied to her +necessities?" I involuntarily interrupted. + +He half raised himself on his elbow, and the effort proved how weak he +was, and his eyes and his voice betrayed a strange earnestness. "When +a son, whom you love better than life itself, has to be saved from the +consequences of his follies, from prison, from worse disgrace even +than that, other interests are forgotten, let them be what they may. +Silent, patient needs give way to obtrusive wants that stare you in +the face, and that may bear fear and danger in their train. Mr. +Strange, you can imagine this." + +"I do. It must ever be so." + +"The pecuniary wants of a young man, such as my son is, are as the cry +of the horse-leech. Give! give! Leonard mixes sometimes with distant +relatives, young fellows of fashion, who are moving in a sphere far +above our present position, although I constantly warn him not to do +it. One of these wants, imperative and to be provided for in some way +or other, occurred the beginning of February in this year. How I +managed to pay it I can hardly tell, but it stripped me of all the +money I could raise, and left me with some urgent debts upon me. The +rent was owing, twelve months the previous December, and some of the +tradespeople were becoming clamorous. The landlord, discerning the +state of affairs, put in a distress, terrifying poor Maria, whose +illness had then not very long set in, almost to death. That I had +the means to pay the man out you may judge, when I tell you that we +had not the money to buy a joint of meat or a loaf of bread." + +Lennard paused to wipe the dew from his brow. + +"Maria was in bed, wanting comforts; Charlotte was worn out with +apprehension; Leonard was away again, and we had nothing. Of my wife I +will not speak: of delicate frame and delicately reared, the +long-continued troubles have reduced her to a sort of dumb apathy. No +credit anywhere, and a distress in for rent! In sheer despair, I +resolved to disclose part of my difficulty to Mr. Brightman, and ask +him to advance me a portion of my next quarter's salary. I hated to do +it. A reduced gentleman is, perhaps, over-fastidious. I know I have +been so, and my pride rose against it. In health, I could not have +spoken to you, Mr. Charles, as I am now doing. I went on, +shilly-shallying for a few days. On the Saturday morning Charlotte +came to me with a whisper: 'That man in the house says if the rent is +not paid to-night, the things will be taken out and sold on Monday: it +is the very last day they'll give.' I went to the office, my mind made +up at length, and thinking what I should say to Mr. Brightman. Should +I tell him part of the truth, or should I urge some plea, foreign to +it? It was an unusually busy day: I dare say you remember it, Mr. +Charles, for it was that of Mr. Brightman's sudden death. Client after +client called, and no opportunity offered for my speaking to him in +private. I waited for him to come down, on his way out in the evening, +thinking I would speak to him then. He did not come, and when the +clients left, and I went upstairs, I found he was stopping in town to +see Sir Edmund Clavering. I should have spoken to him then, but you +were present. He told me to look in again in the course of the +evening, and I hoped I might find him alone then. You recollect the +subsequent events of the night, sir?" + +"I shall never forget them." + +"When I came in, as he directed me, between seven and eight o'clock, +there occurred that flurry with Leah--the cause of which I never knew. +She said Mr. Brightman was alone, and I went up. He was lying in your +room, Mr. Charles; had fallen close to his own desk, the deep drawer +of which stood open. I tried to raise him; I sprinkled water on his +face, but I saw that he was dead. On the desk lay a small canvas bag. +I took it up and shook it. Why, I do not know, for I declare that no +wrong thought had then come into my mind. He appeared to have +momentarily put it out of the drawer, probably in search of something, +for his private cheque-book and the key of the iron safe, that I knew +were always kept in the drawer, lay near it. I shook the bag, and its +contents sounded like gold. I opened it, and counted thirty +sovereigns. Mr. Brightman was dead. I could not apply to him; and yet +money I must have. The temptation upon me was strong, and I took it. +Don't turn away from me, sir. There are some temptations too strong to +be resisted by a man in his necessities." + +"Indeed, I am not turning from you. The temptation was overwhelmingly +great." + +"Indeed," continued the sick man, "the devil was near me then. I put +the key and the cheque-book inside, and I locked the drawer, and +placed the keys in Mr. Brightman's pocket, where he kept them, and I +leaped down the stairs with the bag in my hand. It was all done in a +minute or two of time, though it seems long in relating it. Where +should I put the bag, now I had it? Upon my person? No: it might be +missed directly, and inquired for. I was in a tumult--scarcely sane, I +believe--and I dashed into the clerks' office, and, taking off the lid +of the coal-box, put it there. Then I tore off for a surgeon. You know +the rest. When I returned with him you were there; and the next +visitor, while we were standing round Mr. Brightman, was George Coney, +after his bag of money. I never shall forget the feeling when you +motioned me to take Mr. Brightman's keys from his pocket to get the +bag out of the drawer. Or when--after it was missed--you took me with +you to search for it, in the very office where it was, and I moved the +coal-box under the desk. Had you only happened to lift the lid, sir!" + +"Ah!" + +"When the search was over, and I went home, I had put the bag in my +breastpocket. The gold saved me from immediate trouble, but----" + +"You have sent it back to me, you know--the bag and the thirty +pounds." + +"Yes, I sent it back--tardily. I _could_ not do it earlier, though the +crime coloured my days with remorse, and I never knew a happy moment +until it was restored. But Leonard had been back again, and +restoration was not easy." + +Miss Lennard opened the door at this juncture. "Papa, the doctor is +here. Can he come up? He says he ought to see you." + +"Oh, certainly, he must come up," I interposed. + +"Yes, yes, Charlotte," said Lennard. + +The doctor came in, and stood looking at his patient, after putting a +few questions. "Well," said he, "you are better; you will get over +it." + +"Do you really think so?" I asked joyfully. + +"Decidedly I do, now. It has been a sharp twinge, but the danger's +over. You see, when pain suddenly ceases, mortification sometimes sets +in, and I could not be sure. But you will do this time, Mr. Lennard." + +Lennard had little more to say; and, soon after the doctor left, I +prepared to follow him. + +"There's a trifle of salary due to me, Mr. Strange," he whispered; +"that which has been going on since Quarter Day. I suppose you will +not keep it from me?" + +"Keep it from you! No. Why should I? Do you want it at once? You can +have it if you do." + +Leonard looked up wistfully. "You do not think of taking me back +again? You will not do that?" + +"Yes, I will. You and I shall understand each other better than ever +now." + +The tears welled up to his eyes. He laid his other hand--I had taken +one--across his face. I bent over him with a whisper. + +"What has passed to-night need never be recurred to between us; and I +shall never speak of it to another. We all have our trials and +troubles, Lennard. A very weighty one is lying now upon me, though it +is not absolutely my own--_brought_ upon me, you see, as yours was. +And it is worse than yours." + +"Worse!" he exclaimed, looking at me. + +"More dangerous in its possible consequences. Now mind," I broke off, +shaking him by the hand, "you are not to attempt to come to Essex +Street until you are quite strong enough for it. But I shall see you +here again on Monday, for I have two or three questions to ask you as +to some of the matters that have transpired during my absence. +Good-night, Lennard; keep up a good heart; you will outlive your +trials yet." + +And when I left him he was fairly sobbing. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +DANGER. + + +Mrs. Brightman was certainly improving. When I reached her house with +Annabel on the following day, Sunday, between one and two o'clock, she +was bright and cheerful, and came towards the entrance-gates to meet +us. She, moreover, displayed interest in all we told her of our +honeymoon in the Isle of Wight, and of the places we had visited. +Besides that, I noticed that she took water with her dinner. + +"If she'll only keep to it," said Hatch, joining me in her +unceremonious fashion as I strolled in the garden later, smoking a +cigar. "Yes, Mr. Charles, she's trying hard to put bad habits away +from her, and I hope she'll be able to do it." + +"I hope and trust she will!" + +"Miss Brightman went back to Hastings the day after the wedding-day," +continued Hatch; "but before she started she had a long interview with +my mistress, they two shut up in missis's bedroom alone. For pretty +nigh all the rest of the day, my missis was in tears, and she has not +touched nothing strong since." + +"Nothing at all!" I cried in surprise, for it seemed too good to be +true. "Why, that's a fortnight ago! More than a fortnight." + +"Well, it is so, Mr. Charles. Not but that missis has tried as long +and as hard before now--and failed again." + +It was Monday evening before I could find time to go round to +Lake's--and he did not come to me. He was at home, poring over some +difficult law case by lamp-light. + +"Been in court all day, Charley," he cried. "Have not had a minute to +spare for you." + +"About Tom?" I said, as I sat down. "You seemed to say that you had +more unpleasantness to tell me." + +"Aye, about Tom," he replied, turning his chair to face me, and +propping his right elbow upon his table. "Well, I fear Tom is in a bad +way." + +"In health, you mean?" + +"I do. His cough is frightful, and he is more like a skeleton than a +living being. I should say the illness has laid hold of his lungs." + +"Has he had a doctor?" + +"No. Asks how he is to have one. Says a doctor might (they were his +own words) smell a rat. Doctors are not called in to the class of +people lodging in that house unless they are dying: and it would soon +be seen by any educated man that Tom is not of _their_ kind. My +opinion is, that a doctor could not do him much good now," added Lake. + +He looked at me as he spoke; to see, I suppose, whether I took in his +full meaning. I did--unhappily. + +"And what do you think he is talking of now, Charles?" returned Lake. +"Of giving himself up." + +"Giving himself up! What, to justice?" + +Lake nodded. "You know what Tom Heriot is--not much like other +people." + +"But why should he think of _that_? It would end everything." + +"I was on the point of asking him why," said Lake. "Whether I should +have had a satisfactory answer, I cannot say; I should think he could +not give one; but we were interrupted. Miss Betsy Lee came in." + +"Who? What?" I cried, starting from my chair. + +"The young lady you told me of who lives in Lambeth--Miss Betsy Lee. +Sit down, Charley. She came over to bring him a pot of jelly." + +"Then he has let those people know where he is, Lake! Is he mad?" + +"Mad as to carelessness," assented Lake. "I tell you Tom Heriot's not +like other people." + +"He will leave himself no chance." + +"She seems to be a nice, modest little woman," said Lake; "and I'll go +bail her visit was quite honest and proper. She had made this jelly, +she told Tom, and she and her father hoped it would serve to +strengthen him, and her father sent his respects, and hopes to hear +that Captain Strange was feeling better." + +"Well, Lake, the matter will get beyond me," I said in despair. "Only +a word dropped, innocently, by these people in some dangerous quarter, +and where will Tom be?" + +"That's just it," said Lake. "Policeman Wren is acquainted with them." + +"Did you leave the girl there?" + +"No. Some rough man came into the room smoking, and sat down, +evidently with the intention of making an evening of it; he lives in +the same house and has made acquaintance with Tom, or Tom with him. +So I said good-night, and the girl did the same, and we went down +together. 'Don't you think Captain Strange looks very ill, sir?' said +she as we got into the street. 'I'm afraid he does,' I answered. 'I'm +sure he does, sir,' she said. 'It's a woeful pity that somebody should +be coming upon him for a big back debt just now, obliging him to keep +quiet in a low quarter!' So that is what Tom has told his Lambeth +friends," concluded Lake. + +Lake gave me the address in Southwark, and I determined to see Tom the +next evening. In that, however, I was disappointed. One of our oldest +clients, passing through London from the country on his way to Pau, +summoned me to him on the Tuesday evening. + +But I went on Wednesday. The stars were shining overhead as I +traversed the silent street, making out Tom's lodgings. He had only an +attic bedroom, I found, and I went up to it. He was partly lying +across the bed when I entered. + +I almost thought even then that I saw death written in his face. +White, wan, shadowy it looked; much changed, much worn from what it +was three weeks before. But it lighted up with a smile, as he got up +to greet me. + +"Halloa, Charley!" cried he. "Best congratulations! Made yourself into +a respectable man. All good luck to yourself and madam. I'm thinking +of coming to Essex Street to pay the wedding visit." + +"Thank you," said I, "but do be serious. My coming here is a hazard, +as you know, Tom; don't let us waste in nonsense the few minutes I may +stay." + +"Nonsense!" cried Tom. "Why, do you think I should be afraid to +venture to Essex Street?--what nonsense is there in that? Look here, +Charley!" + +From some box in a dark corner of the room, he got out an old big blue +cloak lined with red, and swung it on. The collar, made of some black +curly wool, stood up above his ears. He walked about the small room, +exhibiting himself. + +"Would the sharpest officer in Scotland Yard take me for anyone but +old Major Carlen?" laughed he. "I'm sure I look like his double in +this elegant cloak. It was his, once." + +"His! What, Major Carlen's?" + +"Just so. He made me a present of it." + +"You have seen him, then!" + +"I sent for him," answered Tom, putting off the old cloak and coughing +painfully after his recent exertion. "I thought I should like to see +the old fellow; I was not afraid he'd betray me; Carlen would not do +that; and I dropped a quiet note to his club, taking the chance of his +being in town." + +"Taking the chance! Suppose he had not been in town, Tom, and the note +had fallen into wrong hands--some inquisitive waiter, let us say, who +chose to open it?" + +"Well--what then? A waiter would only turn up his nose at Mr. Dominic +Turk, the retired schoolmaster, and close up the note again for the +Major." + +"And what would Major Carlen make of Mr. Dominic Turk?" + +"Major Carlen would know my handwriting, Charley." + +"And he came in answer to it?" + +"He came: and blew me up in a loud and awful fashion; seemed to be +trying to blow the ceiling off. First, he threatened to go out and +bring in the police; next, he vowed he would go straight to Blanche +and tell her all. Finally, he calmed down and promised to send me one +of his cast-off cloaks to disguise me, in case I had to go into the +streets. Isn't it a beauty?" + +"Well, now, Tom, if you can be serious for once, what is going to +become of you, and what is to be done? I've come to know." + +"Wish I could tell you; don't know myself," said he lightly. + +"What was it you said to Lake about giving yourself up?" + +"Upon my word of honour, Charley, I sometimes feel inclined to do it. +I couldn't be much worse off in prison than I am here. Sick and sad, +lad, needing comforts that can't be had in such a place as this; no +one to see after me, no one to attend to me. Anyway, it would end the +suspense." + +I sat turning things about in my mind. It all seemed so full of +hazard. That he must be got away from his present quarters was +certain. I told him so. + +"But you are so recklessly imprudent, you see, Tom," I observed, "and +it increases the risk. You have had Miss Betsy Lee here." + +Tom flung himself back with a laugh. "She has been here twice, the +good little soul. The old man came once." + +"Don't you think you might as well take up your standing to-morrow on +the top of the Monument, and proclaim yourself to the public at large? +You try me greatly, Tom!" + +"Try you because I see the Lees! Come, Charley, that's good. They are +as safe as you are." + +"In intention perhaps. How came you to let them know you were to be +found here?" + +"How came I?" he carelessly rejoined. "Let's see? Oh, I remember. One +evening when I was hipped, fit to die of it all and of the confinement +to this wretched room, I strolled out. My feet took me to the old +ground--Lambeth--and to Lee's. He chanced to see me, and invited me +in. Over some whisky and water, I opened out my woes to them; not of +course the truth, but as near as might be. Told them of a curmudgeon +creditor of past days that I feared was coming down upon me, so that I +had to be in close hiding for a bit." + +"But you need not have told them where." + +"Oh, they'll be cautious. Miss Betsy was so much struck with my cough +and my looks that she said she should make some jelly for me, of the +kind she used to make for her mother before she died; and the good +little girl has brought me some over here twice in a jar. They are +all right, Charley." + +It was of no use contending with him. After sitting a little time +longer, I promised that he should shortly see me again or hear from +me, and took my departure. Full of doubt and trouble, I wanted to be +alone, to decide, if possible, what was to be done. + +What to do about Tom I knew not. That he required nursing and +nourishment, and that he ought to be moved where he could have it, was +indisputable. But--the risk! + +Three-parts of the night I lay awake, thinking of different plans. +None seemed feasible. In the morning I was hardly fit for my day's +work, and set to it with unsteady nerves and a worried brain. If I had +only someone to consult with, some capable man who would help me! I +did think of Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar; but I knew he would not like +it, would probably refuse advice. One who now and again sat in the +position of judge, sentencing men himself, would scarcely choose to +aid in concealing an escaped convict. + +I was upstairs in the dining-room at one o'clock, taking luncheon with +Annabel, when the door was thrown back by Watts and there loomed into +the room the old blue cloak with the red lining. For a moment I +thought it was the one I had seen the past night in Southwark, and my +heart leaped into my mouth. Watts's quiet announcement dispelled the +alarm. + +"Major Carlen, sir." + +The Major unclasped his cloak after shaking hands with us, and flung +it across the sofa, just as Tom had flung his on the bed. I pointed to +the cold beef, and asked if he would take some. + +"Don't mind if I do, Charles," said he, drawing a chair to the table: +"I'm too much bothered just now to eat as I ought. A pretty kettle of +fish this is, lad, that you and I have had brought upon us!" + +I gave him a warning look, glancing at Annabel. The old fellow +understood me--she had not been trusted with the present trouble. +That Tom Heriot had effected his escape, Annabel knew; that it was +expected he would make his way home, she knew; but that he had long +been here, and was now close at hand, I had never told her. Why +inflict upon her the suspense I had to endure? + +"Rather a chilly day for the time of year," observed the Major, as he +coughed down his previous words. "Just a little, Mrs. Strange; +underdone, please." + +Annabel, who carved at luncheon-time, helped him carefully. "And what +kettle of fish is it that you and Charles are troubled with, Major?" +she inquired, smiling. + +"Ah--aw--don't care to say much about it," answered the Major, more +ready at an excuse than I should have deemed him. "Blanche is up to +her ears in anger against Level; says she'll get a separation from +him, and all that kind of nonsense. But you and I may as well not make +it our business, Charles, I expect: better let married folk fight out +their own battles. And have you heard from your Aunt Lucy yet, Mrs. +Strange?" + +So the subject was turned off for the time; but down below, in my +office, the Major went at it tooth and nail, talking himself into a +fever. All the hard names in the Major's vocabulary were hurled at +Tom. His original sin was disgraceful enough, never to be condoned, +said the Major; but his present imprudent procedure was worse, and +desperately wicked. + +"Are Blanche and her husband still at variance?" I asked, when he had +somewhat cooled down on the other subject. + +"They just are, and are likely to remain so," growled the Major. "It's +Blanche's fault. Men have ways of their own, and she's a little fool +for wishing to interfere with his. Don't let your wife begin that, +Charles; it's my best advice to you. You are laughing, young fellow! +Well, perhaps you and Level don't row in quite the same boat; but you +can't foresee the shoals you may pitch into. No one can." + +We were interrupted by Lennard, who had come back on the previous day, +pale and pulled down by his sharp attack of illness, but the same +efficient man of business as ever. A telegram had been delivered, +which he could not deal with without me. + +"I'll be off, then," said the Major; "I suppose I'm only hindering +work. And I wish you well through your difficulties, Charles," he +added significantly. "I wish all of us well through them. Good-day, +Mr. Lennard." + +The Major was ready enough to wish _that_, but he could not suggest +any means by which it might be accomplished. I had asked him; and he +confessed himself incompetent to advise. "I should send him off to sea +in a whaling-boat and keep him there," was all the help he gave. + +Lennard stayed beyond time that evening, and was ready in my private +room to go over certain business with me that had transpired during my +own absence. I could not give the necessary attention to it, try as +earnestly as I would: Tom and _his_ business kept dancing in my brain +to the exclusion of other things. Lennard asked me whether I was ill. + +"No," I answered; "at least, not in body." And as I spoke, the thought +crossed me to confide the trouble to Lennard. He had seen too much +trouble himself not to be safe and cautious, and perhaps he might +suggest something. + +"Let Captain Heriot come to me," he immediately said. "He could not be +safer anywhere. Sometimes we let our drawing-room floor; it is vacant +now, and he can have it. My wife and my daughter Charlotte will attend +to his comforts and nurse him, if that may be, into health. It is the +best thing that can be done with him, Mr. Charles." + +I saw that it was, seeming to discern all the advantages of the +proposal at a grasp, and accepted it. We consulted as to how best to +effect Tom's removal, which Lennard himself undertook. I dropped a +hasty note to "Mr. Turk" to prepare him to be in readiness the +following evening, and Lennard posted it when he went out. He had no +sooner gone, than the door of my private room slowly opened, and, +rather to my surprise, Leah appeared. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, for presuming to disturb you here," she said; +"but I can't rest. There's some great trouble afloat; I've seen it in +your looks and ways, sir, ever since Sunday. Your face couldn't +deceive me when you were my little nursling, Master Charles, and it +can't deceive me now. Is it about Mr. Tom?" + +"Well, yes, it is, Leah." + +Her face turned white. "He has not got himself taken, surely!" + +"No; it's not so bad as that--yet." + +"Thank Heaven for it!" she returned. "I knew it was him, and I'm all +in a twitter about him from morning till night. I can't sleep or eat +for dreading the news that any moment may bring of him. It seems to +me, Mr. Charles, that one must needs be for ever in a twitter in this +world; before one trouble is mended, another turns up. No sooner am I +a bit relieved about poor Nancy, that unfortunate daughter of mine, +than there comes Mr. Tom." + +The relief that Leah spoke of was this: some relatives of Leah's +former husband, Nancy's father, had somehow got to hear of Nancy's +misfortunes. Instead of turning from her, they had taken her and her +cause in hand, and had settled her and her three children in a general +shop in Hampshire near to themselves, where she was already beginning +to earn enough for a good living. The man who was the cause of all the +mischief had emigrated, and meant never to return to Europe. + +And Leah had taken my advice in the matter, and disclosed all to +Watts. He was not in the least put out by it, as she had feared he +would be; only told her she was a simpleton for not having told him +before. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +WITH MR. JONES + + + My Dear Charles,--I particularly wish you to come to me. I want + some legal advice, and I would rather you acted for me than + anyone else. Come up this morning, please. + Your affectionate sister, + BLANCHE. + +The above note, brought from Gloucester Place on Monday morning by one +of Lady Level's servants, reached me before ten o'clock. By the +dashing character of the handwriting, I judged that Blanche had not +been in the calmest temper when she penned it. + +"Is Lord Level at home?" I inquired of the man Sanders. + +"No, sir. His lordship went down to Marshdale yesterday evening. A +telegram came for him, and I think it was in consequence of that he +went." + +I wrote a few words to Blanche, telling her I would be with her as +soon as I could, and sent it by Sanders. + +But a lawyer's time is not always his own. One client after another +kept coming in that morning, as if on purpose; and it was half-past +twelve in the day when I reached Gloucester Place. + +The house in Gloucester Place was, and had been for some little time +now, entirely rented by Lord Level of Major Carlen. The Major, when in +London, had rooms in Seymour Street, but lived chiefly at his club. + +"Her ladyship has gone out, sir," was Sanders's greeting to me, when +he answered my ring at the door-bell. + +"Gone out?" + +"Just gone," confirmed Major Carlen, who was there, it seemed, and +came forward in the wake of Sanders. "Come in, Charles." + +He turned into the dining-room, and I after him. "Blanche ought to +have waited in," I remarked. "I have come up at the greatest +inconvenience." + +"She has gone off in a tantrum," cried the Major, lowering his voice +as he carefully closed the door and pushed a chair towards me, just as +if the house were still in his occupancy. + +"But where has she gone?" I asked, not taking the chair, but standing +with my elbow on the mantelpiece. + +"Who's to know? To you, in Essex Street, I shouldn't wonder. She was +on the heights of impatience at your not coming." + +"Not to Essex Street, I think, Major. I should have seen her." + +"Nonsense! There's fifty turnings and windings between this and Essex +Street, where you might miss one another; your cab taking the straight +way and she the crooked," retorted the Major. "When Blanche gets her +back up, you can't easily put it down." + +"Something has gone contrary, I expect." + +"Nothing has gone contrary but herself," replied the Major, who seemed +in a cross and contrary mood on his own part. "Women are the very +deuce for folly." + +"Well, what is it all about, sir? I suppose you can tell me?" + +The Major sat down in Lord Level's easy-chair, pushed back his cloak, +and prepared to explain. + +"What it's all about is just nothing, Charles; but so far as Madam +Blanche's version goes, it is this," said he. "They were about to sit +down, yesterday evening, to dinner--which they take on Sundays at five +o'clock (good, pious souls!), and limit their fare to roast beef and a +tart--when a telegram arrived from Marshdale. My lord seemed put out +about it; my lady was no doubt the same. 'I must go down at once, +Blanche,' said he, speaking on the spur of the moment. 'But why? +Where's the need of it?' returned she. 'Surely there can be nothing +at Marshdale to call you away on Sunday and in this haste?' 'Yes,' +said he, 'there is; there's illness.' And then, Blanche says, he tried +to cough down the words, as if he had made a slip of the tongue. 'Who +is ill?' said Blanche. 'Let me see the telegram.' Level slid the +telegram into his pocket, and told her it was Mr. Edwards, the old +steward. Down he sat again at the table, swallowed a mouthful of beef, +sent Sanders to put up a few things in his small portmanteau, and was +off in a cab like the wind. Fact is," added the Major, "had he failed +to catch that particular train, he would not have got down at all, +being Sunday; and Sanders says that catching it must have been a near +shave for his lordship." + +"Is that all?" + +"No. This morning there was delivered here a letter for his lordship; +post-mark Marshdale, handwriting a certain Italian one that Blanche +has seen before. She has seen the writer, too, it seems--a fair lady +called Nina. Blanche argues that as the letter came from Marshdale, +the lady must be at Marshdale, and she means to know without delay, +she says, who and what this damsel is, and what the tie may be that +binds her to Lord Level and gives her the right to pursue him, as she +does, and the power to influence his movements, and to be at her beck +and call. The probability is," added the shrewd Major, "that this +person wrote to him on the Saturday, but, being a foreigner, was not +aware that he would not receive her letter on Sunday morning. Finding +that he did not arrive at Marshdale on the Sunday, and the day getting +on, she despatched the telegram. That's how I make it out, Charles; I +don't know if I am right." + +"You think, then, that some Italian lady is at Marshdale?" + +"Sure of it," returned the Major. "I've heard of it before to-day. +Expect she lives there, making journeys to her own land between +whiles, no doubt. The best and the worst of us get homesick." + +"You mean that she lives there in--in--well, in a manner not quite +orthodox, and that Lord Level connives at it?" + +"Connives at it!" echoed the old reprobate. "Why, he is at the top and +bottom of it. Level's a man of the world, always was, and does as the +world does. And that little ignorant fool, Blanche, ferrets out some +inkling of this, and goes and sets up a fuss! Level's as good a +husband to her as can be, and yet she's not content! Commend me to +foolish women! They are all alike!" + +In his indignation against women in general, Major Carlen rose from +his chair and began striding up and down the room. I was pondering on +what he had said to me. + +"What right have wives to rake up particulars of their husbands' +private affairs?" he demanded fiercely. "If Level does go off to +Marshdale for a few days' sojourn now and again, is it any business of +Blanche's what he goes for, or what he does there, or whom he sees? +Suppose he chose to maintain a whole menagerie of--of--Italian monkeys +there, ought Blanche to interfere and make bones over it?" + +"But----" + +"He does not offend her; he does not allow her to see that anything +exists to offend her: why, then, should she suspect this and suspect +that, and peep and peer after Level as if she were a detective told +off expressly to watch his movements?" continued the angry man. "Only +an ignorant girl would dream of doing it. I am sick of her folly." + +"Well now, Major Carlen, will you listen to me for a moment?" I said, +speaking quietly and calmly as an antidote to his heat. "I don't +believe this. I think you and Blanche are both mistaken." + +He brought himself to an anchor on the hearthrug, and stared at me +under his thick, grizzled eyebrows. "What is it that you don't +believe, Charles?" + +"This that you insinuate about Marshdale. I have faith in Lord Level; +I like Lord Level; and I think you are misjudging him." + +"Oh, indeed!" responded the Major. "I suppose you know what a wild +blade Level always was?" + +"In his early days he may have been. But you may depend upon it that +when he married he left his wild ways behind him." + +"All right, young Charles. And, upon my word, you are pretty near as +young in the world's depths as Blanche herself is," was the Major's +sarcastic remark. "Do you wish to tell me there's nothing up at +Marshdale, with all these mysterious telegrams to Level, and his +scampers back in answer? Come!" + +"I admit that there seems to be some mystery at Marshdale. Something +that we do not understand, and that Lord Level does not intend us to +understand; but I must have further proof before I can believe it is +of any such nature as you hint it, Major. For a long time past, Lord +Level has appeared to me like a man in trouble; as if he had some +anxiety on his mind." + +"Well," acquiesced the Major equably, "and what can trouble a man's +mind more than the exactions of these foreign syrens? Let them be +Italian, or Spanish, or French--what you will--they'll worry your life +out of you in the long-run. What does that Italian girl do at +Marshdale?" + +"I cannot say. For my own part I do not know that one is there. But if +she be, if there be a whole menagerie of Italian ladies there, as you +have just expressed it, Major----" + +"I said a menagerie of monkeys," he growled. + +"Monkeys, then. But whether they be monkeys or whether they be ladies, +I feel convinced that Lord Level is acting no unworthy part--that he +is loyal to his wife." + +"You had better tell her so," nodded the Major; "perhaps she'll +believe you. I told her the opposite. I told her that when women +marry gay and attractive men, they must look out for squalls, and +learn to shut their eyes a bit in going through life. I bade her +bottle up her fancies, and let Marshdale and her husband alone, and +not show herself a simpleton before the public." + +"What did she say to that?" + +"Say? It was that piece of advice which raised the storm. She burst +out of the room like a maniac, declaring she wouldn't remain in it to +listen to me. The next thing was, I heard the street-door bang, and +saw my lady go out, putting on her gloves as she went. You came up two +minutes afterwards." + +I was buried in thought again. He stood staring at me, as if I had no +business to have any thought. + +"Look here, Major: one thing strikes me forcibly: the very fact of +Lord Level allowing these telegrams to come to him openly is enough to +prove that matters are not as you and Blanche suspect. If----" + +"How can a telegram come secretly?" interrupted the Major. + +"He would take care that they did not come at all--to his house." + +"Oh, would he?" cried the old reprobate. "I should like to know how he +could hinder it if any she-fiend chooses to send them." + +"Rely upon it he would hinder it. Level is not one to be coerced +against his will by either man or woman. Have you any idea how long +Blanche will remain out?" + +"Just as much as you have, Charley. She may remain away till night, +for all I know." + +It was of no use, then, my staying longer; and time, that day, was +almost as precious to me as gold. Major Carlen threw on his cloak, and +we went out together. + +"I should not wonder if my young lady has gone to Seymour Street," +remarked the Major. "The thought has just occurred to me." + +"To your lodgings, you mean?" I asked, thinking it very unlikely. + +"Yes; Mrs. Guy is there. The poor old thing arrived from Jersey on +Saturday. She has come over on her usual errand--to consult the +doctors; grows more ridiculously fanciful as she grows older. You +might just look in upon her now, Charles; it's close by: and then +you'll see whether Blanche is there or not." + +I spared a few minutes for it. Poor Mrs. Guy looked very poorly +indeed; but she was meek and mild as ever, and burst into tears as I +greeted her. Her ailments I promised to go and hear all about another +time. Yes, Blanche was there. When we went in, she was laughing at +something Mrs. Guy had said, and her indignation seemed to have +subsided. + +I could not stay long. Blanche came out with me, thinking I should go +back with her to Gloucester Place. But that was impossible; I had +already wasted more time than I could well spare. Blanche was vexed. + +"My dear, you should not have gone out when you were expecting me. +You know how very much I am occupied." + +"Papa vexed me, and drove me to it," she answered. "He said--oh, such +wicked things, that I could not and would not stay to listen. And all +the while I knew it was not that he believed them, but that he wanted +to make excuses for Lord Level." + +I did not contradict her. Let her retain, and she could, some little +veneration for her step-father. + +"Charles, I want to have a long conversation with you, so you must +come to me as soon as you can," she said. "I mean to have a separation +from my husband; perhaps a divorce, and I want you to tell me how I +must proceed in it. I did think of applying to Jennings and Ward, Lord +Level's solicitors, but, perhaps, you will be best." + +I laughed. "You don't suppose, do you, Blanche, that Lord Level's +solicitors would act for you against him." + +"Now, Charles, you are speaking lightly; you are making game of me. +Why do you laugh? I can tell you it is more serious than you may +think for! and I am serious. I have talked of this for a long time, +and now I _will_ act. How shall I begin?" + +"Do not begin at all, Blanche," I said, with earnestness. "_Do +nothing._ Were your father living--were your mother living, they would +both give you this advice--and this is not the first time I have +enjoined it on you. Ah, my dear, you do not know--you little guess +what misery to the wife such a climax as this which you propose would +involve." + +Blanche had turned to the railings round the interior of Portman +Square, and halted there, apparently looking at the shrubs. Her eyes +were full of tears. + +"On the other hand, Charles, you do not know, you cannot guess, what I +have to bear--what a misery it makes of my life." + +"Are you _sure_ of the facts that make the misery?" + +"Why, of course I am." + +"I think not, Blanche. I think you are mistaken." + +She turned to me in surprise. "But I _can't_ be mistaken," she said. +"How can I be? If Lord Level does not go to Marshdale to--to--to see +people, what does he go for?" + +"He may go for something quite different. My dear, I have more +confidence in your husband than you have, and I think you are wrong. I +must be off; I've not another moment; but these are my last words to +you, Blanche.--Take no action. Be still. _Do nothing._" + +By half-past four o'clock, the most pressing of my work was over for +the day, and then I took a cab to Lincoln's Inn to see Mr. Serjeant +Stillingfar. He had often said to me, good old uncle that he was: +"Come to me always, Charles, when you are in any legal doubt or +difficulty, or deem that my opinion may be of use to you." I was in +one of those difficulties now. Some remarkably troublesome business +had been laid before me by a client; I could not see my way in it at +all, and was taking it to Serjeant Stillingfar. + +The old chambers were just as they used to be; as they were on the day +which the reader has heard of, when I saw them for the first time. +Running up the stairs, there sat a clerk at the desk in the narrow +room, where young Lake, full of impudence, had sat that day, Mr. +Jones's empty place beside it now, as it was then. + +"Is the Serjeant in?" I asked the clerk. + +"No, sir; he's not out of Court yet. Mr. Jones is in." + +I went on to the inner room. Old Jones, the Serjeant's own especial +clerk, was writing at his little desk in the corner. Nothing was +changed; not even old Jones himself. He was not, to appearance, a day +older, and not an ounce bigger. Lake used to tell him he would make +his fortune if he went about the country in a caravan and called +himself a consumptive lamp-post. + +"My uncle is not back from Court, Graham says," I observed to the +clerk, after shaking hands. + +"Not yet," he answered. "I don't think he'll be long. Sit down, Mr. +Strange." + +I took the chair I had taken that first day years ago, and waited. Mr. +Jones finished the writing he was about, arranged his papers, and then +came and stood with his back to the fire, having kept his quill in his +hand. It must be a very hot day indeed which did not see a fire in +that grate. + +"If the Serjeant is not back speedily, I think I must open my business +to you, and get your opinion, Mr. Jones," I said. "I dare say you +could give me one as well as he." + +"Some complicated case that you can't quite manage?" he rejoined. + +"It's the most complicated, exasperating case I nearly ever had +brought to me," I answered. "I think it is a matter more for a +detective officer to deal with than a solicitor. If Serjeant +Stillingfar says the same, I shall throw it up." + +"Curious things, some of those detective cases," remarked Mr. Jones, +gently waving his pen. + +"They are. I wouldn't have to deal with them, _as_ a detective, for +the world. Shall I relate this case to you?" + +He took out his watch and looked at it. "Better wait a bit longer, Mr. +Charles. I expect the Serjeant every minute now." + +"Don't you wonder that my uncle continues to work?" I cried presently. +"He is old now. _I_ should retire." + +"He is sixty-five. If you were not young yourself, you would not call +that old." + +"Old enough, I should say, for work to be a labour to him." + +"A labour that he loves, and that he is as capable of performing as he +was twenty years ago," returned old Jones. "No, Mr. Charles, I do not +wonder that he should continue to work." + +"Did you know that he had been offered a judgeship?" + +Old Jones laughed a little. I thought it was as much as to say there +was little which concerned the Serjeant that he did not know. + +"He has been offered a judgeship more than once--had it pressed upon +him, Mr. Charles. The last time was when Mr. Baron Charlton died." + +"Why! that is only a month or two ago!" + +"Just about nine weeks, I fancy." + +"And he declined it?" + +"He declines them all." + +"But what can be his motive? It would give him more rest than he +enjoys now----" + +"I don't altogether know that," interrupted the clerk. "The judges are +very much over-worked now. It would increase his responsibility; and +he is one to feel that, perhaps painfully." + +"You mean when he had to pass the dread sentence of death. A new judge +must always feel that at the beginning." + +"I heard one of our present judges say--it was in this room, too, Mr. +Charles--that the first time he put on the black cap he never closed +his eyes the whole night after it. All the Bench are not so sensitive +as that, you know." + +A thought suddenly struck me. "Surely," I cried, "you do not mean that +_that_ is the reason for my uncle's refusing a seat on the Bench!" + +"Not at all. He'd get over that in time, as others do. Oh no! that has +nothing to do with it." + +"Then I really cannot see what can have to do with it. It would give +him a degree of rest; yes, it would; and it would give him rank and +position." + +"But it would take from him half his income. Yes, just about half, I +reckon," repeated Mr. Jones, attentively regarding the feather of the +pen. + +"What of that? He must be putting by heaps and heaps of money--and he +has neither wife nor child to put by for." + +"Ah!" said the clerk, "that is just how we all are apt to judge of a +neighbour's business. Would it surprise you very much, sir, if I told +you that the Serjeant is _not_ putting by?" + +"But he must be putting by. Or what becomes of his money?" + +"He spends it, Mr. Charles." + +"_Spends it!_ Upon what?" + +"Upon other people." + +Mr. Jones looked at me from across the hearthrug, and I looked at him. +The assertion puzzled me. + +"It's true," he said with a nod. "You have not forgotten that great +calamity which happened some ten or twelve years ago, Mr. Charles? +That bank which went to pieces, and broke up homes and hearts? _Your_ +money went in it." + +As if I could forget that! + +"The Serjeant's money, all he had then saved, went in it," continued +the clerk. "Mortifying enough, of course, but he was in the full swing +of his prosperity, and could soon have replaced it. What he could not +so easily replace, Mr. Charles, was the money he had been the means +of placing in the bank belonging to other people, and which was lost. +He had done it for the best. He held the bank to be thoroughly sound +and prosperous; he could not have had more confidence in his own +integrity than he had in that bank; and he had counselled friends and +others whom he knew, who were not as well off as he was, to invest all +they could spare in it, believing he was doing them a kindness. +Instead of that, it ruined them." + +I thought I saw what the clerk was coming to. After a pause, he went +on: + +"It is these people that he has been working for, Mr. Charles. Some of +them he has entirely repaid--the money, you know, which he caused them +to lose. He considered it his duty to recompense them, so far as he +could; and to keep them, where they needed to be kept, until he had +effected that. For those who were better off and did not need present +help, he put money by as he could spare it, investing it in the funds +in their name: I dare say your name is amongst them. That's what Mr. +Serjeant Stillingfar does with his income, and that's why he keeps on +working." + +I had never suspected this. + +"I believe it is almost accomplished now," said the clerk. "So nearly +that I thought he might, perhaps, have taken the judgeship on this +last occasion. But he did not. 'Just a few months longer in harness, +Jones,' he said to me, 'and then----?' So I reckon that we shall yet +see him on the Bench, Mr. Charles." + +"He must be very good." + +"Good!" echoed old Jones, with emotion; "he is made of goodness. There +are few people like him. He would help the whole world if he could. I +don't believe there's any man who has ever done a single service for +him of the most trifling nature but he would wish to place beyond the +reach of poverty. 'I've put a trifle by for you, Jones,' he said to me +the other day, 'in case you might be at a loss for another such place +as this when my time's over.' And when I tried to thank him----" + +Mr. Jones broke down. Bringing the quill pen under his eyes, as if he +suddenly caught sight of a flaw thereon, I saw a drop of water fall on +to it. + +"Yes, Mr. Charles, he said that to me. It has taken a load from my +mind. When a man is on the downhill of life and is not sure of his +future, he can't help being anxious. The Serjeant has paid me a +liberal salary, as you may well guess, but he knows that it has not +been in my power to put by a fraction of it. 'You are too generous +with your money, Serjeant,' I said to him one day, a good while ago. +'Ah no, Jones, not at all,' he answered. 'God has prospered me so +marvellously in these later years, what can I do but strive to prosper +others?' Those were his very words." + +And with these last words of Jones's our conference came to an end. +The door was abruptly thrown open by Graham to admit the Serjeant. Mr. +Jones helped him off with his wig and gown, and handed him the little +flaxen top that he wore when not on duty. Then Jones, leaving the room +for a few moments, came back with a glass of milk, which he handed to +his master. + +"Would not a glass of wine do you more good, uncle?" I asked. + +"No, lad; not so much. A glass of milk after a hard day's work in +Court refreshes me. I never touch wine except at a dinner. I take a +little then; not much." + +Sitting down together when Mr. Jones had again left us, I opened my +business to the Serjeant as concisely as possible. He listened +attentively, but made no remark until the end. + +"Now go over it all again, Charles." I did so: and this second time I +was repeatedly interrupted by remarks or questions. After that we +discussed the case. + +"I cannot see any reason why you should not take up the matter," he +said, when he had given it a little silent consideration. "I do not +look upon it quite as you do; I think you have formed a wrong +judgment. It is intricate at present; I grant you that; but if you +proceed in the manner I have suggested, you will unravel it." + +"Thank you, Uncle Stillingfar. I can never thank you enough for all +your kindness to me." + +"Were you so full of anxiety over this case?" he asked, as we were +shaking hands, and I was about to leave. "You look as though you had a +weight of it on your brow." + +"And so I have, uncle; but not about this case. Something nearer +home." + +"What _is_ it?" he returned, looking at me. + +"It is---- Perhaps I had better not tell it you." + +"I understand," he slowly said. "Tom Heriot, I suppose. Why does he +not get away?" + +"He is too ill for that at present: confined to his room and his bed. +Of course, he does not run quite so great a risk as he did when he +persisted in parading the streets, but danger is always imminent." + +"He ought to end the danger by getting away. Very ill, is he?" + +"So ill that I think danger will soon be all at an end in another way; +it certainly will be unless he rallies." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +"I cannot help fearing that consumption has set in." + +"Poor fellow! Oh, Charles, how that fine young man has spoilt his +life! Consumption?--Wait a bit--let me think," broke off the Serjeant. +"Why, yes, I remember now; it was consumption that Colonel Heriot's +first wife died of--Tom's mother." + +"Tom said so the last time I saw him." + +"Ah. He knows it, then. Better not see him too often, Charles. You are +running a risk yourself, as you must be aware." + +"Yes; I know I am. It is altogether a trial. Good-day, uncle." + +I shook hands with Jones as I passed through his room, and ran down +the stairs, feeling all the better for my interview with him and with +his patron, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +AN ACCIDENT. + + +The drawing-room floor at Lennard's made very comfortable quarters for +Tom Heriot, and his removal from the room in Southwark had been +accomplished without difficulty. Mrs. Lennard, a patient, mild, weak +woman, who could never have been strong-minded, made him an excellent +nurse, her more practical and very capable daughter, Charlotte, aiding +her when necessary. + +A safer refuge could not have been found in London. The Lennards were +so often under a cloud themselves as regarded pecuniary matters, so +beset at times by their unwelcome creditors--the butcher, baker and +grocer--that the chain of their front door was kept habitually +fastened, and no one was admitted within its portals without being +first of all subjected to a comprehensive survey. Had some kind friend +made a rush to the perambulating policeman of the district, to inform +him that the domicile of those Lennards was again in a state of siege, +he would simply have speculated upon whether the enemy was this time +the landlord or the Queen's taxes. It chanced to be neither; but it +was well for the besieged to favour the impression that it was one or +the other, or both. Policemen do not wage war with unfortunate +debtors, and Mr. Lennard's house was as safe as a remote castle. + +"Mr. Brown" Tom was called there; none of the household, with the +exception of its master, having any idea that it was not his true +name. "One of the gentlemen clerks in Essex Street, who has no home in +London; I have undertaken to receive him while he is ill," Mr. +Lennard had carelessly remarked to his wife and daughters before +introducing Tom. They had unsuspecting minds, except as regarded their +own creditors, those ladies--ladies always, though fallen from their +former state--and never thought to question the statement, or to be at +all surprised that Mr. Strange himself took an interest in his clerk's +illness, and paid an evening visit to him now and then. The doctor who +was called in, a hard-worked practitioner named Purfleet, did his best +for "Mr. Brown," but had no time to spare for curiosity about him in +any other way, or to give so much as a thought to his antecedents. + +And just at first, after being settled at Lennard's, Tom Heriot seemed +to be taking a turn for the better. The warmth of the comfortable +rooms, the care given to him, the strengthening diet, and perhaps a +feeling that he was in a safer asylum than he had yet found, all had +their effect upon him for good. + + * * * * * + +"Hatch!" called out Mrs. Brightman. + +Hatch ran in from the next room. "Yes, ma'am." + +"Let Perry go and tell the gardener to cut some of his best grapes, +white and purple, and do you arrange them in a basket. I shall go up +to Essex Street and see my daughter this afternoon, and will take them +to her. Order the carriage for half-past two o'clock." + +"Miss Annabel will be finely pleased to see you, ma'am!" remarked +Hatch. + +"Possibly so. But she is no longer Miss Annabel. Go and see about the +grapes." + +When Mrs. Brightman's tones were cold and haughty, and they sounded +especially so just now, she brooked no dilatoriness in those who had +to obey her behests. Hatch turned away immediately, and went along +talking to herself. + +"She's getting cross and restless again. I'm certain of it. In a +week's time from this we shall have her as bad as before. And for ever +so many weeks now she has been as cautious and sober as a judge! Hang +the drink, then! Doctors may well call it a disease when it comes to +this stage with people. Here--I say, Perry!" + +The butler, passing along the hall, heard Hatch's call, and stopped. +She gave her cap-strings a fling backwards as she advanced to him. + +"You are to go and tell Church to cut a basket of grapes, and to mix +'em, white and black. The very best and ripest that is in the +greenhouse; they be for Miss Annabel." + +"All right, I'll go at once," answered Perry. "But you need not snap a +man's nose off, Hatch, or look as if you were going to eat him. What +has put you out?" + +"Enough has put me out; and you might know that, old Perry, if you had +any sense," retorted Hatch. "When do I snap people's noses off--which +it's my tone, I take it, that you mean--except I'm that bothered and +worried I can't speak sweet?" + +"Well, what's amiss?" asked Perry. + +They were standing close together, and Hatch lowered her voice to a +whisper. "The missis is going off again; I be certain sure on't." + +"_No!_" cried Perry, full of dismay. "But, look here, Hatch"--suddenly +diving into one of his jackets--"she can't have done it; here's the +cellar-key. I can be upon my word that there's not a drain of anything +out." + +"You always did have the brains of a turkey, you know, Perry," was +Hatch's gracious rejoinder; "and I'm tired of reminding you of it. Who +said missis had took anything? Not me. She haven't--yet. As you +observe, there's nothing up for her to take. But she'll be ordering +you to bring something up before to-morrow's over; perhaps before +to-day is." + +"Dear, dear!" lamented the faithful servant. "Don't you think you may +be mistaken, Hatch? What do you judge by?" + +"I judge by herself. I've not lived with my missis all these years +without learning to notice signs and tokens. Her manner to-day and +her restlessness is just as plain as the sun in the sky. I know what +it means, and you'll know it too, as soon as she gives you her orders +to unlock the cellar." + +"Can nothing be done?" cried the unhappy Perry. "Could I _lose_ the +key of the cellar, do you think, Hatch? Would that be of any good?" + +"It would hold good just as long as you'd be in getting a hammer and +poker to break it open with; you've not got to deal with a pack of +schoolboys that's under control," was Hatch's sarcastic reproof. "But +I think there's one thing we might try, Perry, and that is, run round +to Mr. Close and tell him about it. Perhaps he could give her +something to stop the craving." + +"I'll go," said Perry. "I'll slip round when I've told Church about +the grapes." + +"And the carriage is ordered early--half-past two; so mind you are in +readiness," concluded Hatch. + +Perry went to the surgeon's, after delivering his orders to the +gardener. But Mr. Close was not at home, and the man came away again +without leaving any message; he did not choose to enter upon the +subject with Mr. Dunn, the assistant. The latter inquired who was ill, +and Perry replied that nobody was; he had only come to speak a private +word to Mr. Close, which could wait. In point of fact, he meant to +call later. + +But the curiosity of Mr. Dunn, who was a very inquisitive young man, +fonder of attending to other people's business than of doing his own, +had been aroused by this. He considered Perry's manner rather +mysterious, as well as the suppression of the message, and he enlarged +upon the account to Mr. Close when he came in. Mr. Close made no +particular rejoinder; but in his own mind he felt little doubt that +Mrs. Brightman was breaking out again, and determined to go and see +her when he had had his dinner. + +Perry returned home, and waited on his mistress at luncheon, quaking +inwardly all the time, as he subsequently confessed to Hatch, lest +she should ask him for something that was not upon the table. However, +she did not do so; but she was very restless, as Perry observed; ate +little, drank no water, and told Perry to bring her a cup of coffee. + +At half-past two the carriage stood at the gate, the silver on the +horses' harness glittering in the sun. Quickly enough appeared the +procession from the house. Mrs. Brightman, upright and impassive, +walking with stately step; Hatch, a shawl or two upon her arm, holding +an umbrella over her mistress to shade her from the sun; Perry in the +background, carrying the basket of grapes. Perry would attend his +mistress in her drive, as usual, but not Hatch. + +The servants were placing the shawls and the grapes in the carriage, +and Mrs. Brightman, who hated anything to be done after she had taken +her seat, was waiting to enter it, when Mr. Close, the surgeon, came +bustling up. + +"Going for a drive this fine day!" he exclaimed, as he shook hands +with Mrs. Brightman. "I'm glad of that. I had been thinking that +perhaps you were not well." + +"Why should you think so?" asked she. + +"Well, Perry was round at my place this morning, and left a message +that he wanted to see me. I----" + +Mr. Close suppressed the remainder of his speech as his gaze suddenly +fell on Perry's startled face. The man had turned from the carriage, +and was looking at him in helpless, beseeching terror. A faithful +retainer was Perry, an honest butler; but at a pinch his brains were +no better than what Hatch had compared them with--those of a turkey. + +Mrs. Brightman, her countenance taking its very haughtiest expression, +gazed first at the doctor, then at Perry, as if demanding what this +might mean; possibly, poor lady, she had a suspicion of it. But Hatch, +ready Hatch, was equal to the occasion: _she_ never lost her presence +of mind. + +"I told Perry he might just as well have asked young Mr. Dunn for 'em, +when he came back without the drops," said she, facing the surgeon and +speaking carelessly. "Your not being in didn't matter. It was some +cough-drops I sent him for; the same as those you've let us have +before, Mr. Close. Our cook's cough is that bad, she can't sleep at +night, nor let anybody else sleep that's within earshot of her room." + +"Well, I came round in a hurry, thinking some of you might be +suffering from this complaint that's going about," said Mr. Close, +taking up the clue in an easy manner. + +"That there spasadic cholera," assented Hatch. + +"Cholera! It's not cholera. There's nothing of that sort about," said +the surgeon. "But there's a good bit of influenza; I have half a dozen +patients suffering from it. A spell of bright weather such as this, +though, will soon drive it away. And I'll send you some of the drops +when I get back, Hatch." + +Mrs. Brightman advanced to the carriage; the surgeon was at hand to +assist her in. Perry stood on the other side his mistress. Hatch had +retreated to the gate and was looking on. + +Suddenly a yell, as of something unearthly, startled their ears. A +fierce-looking bull, frightened probably by the passers-by on the +road, and the prods given to it by the formidable stick of its driver, +had dashed behind the carriage on to the foot-path, and set up that +terrible roar. Mr. Close looked round, Perry did the same; whilst Mrs. +Brightman, who was in the very act of getting into her carriage, and +whose nerves were more sensitive than theirs, turned sharply round +also and screamed. + +Again Hatch came to the rescue. She had closed the umbrella and lodged +it against the pillar of the gate, for here they were under the shade +of trees. Seizing the umbrella now, she opened it with a great dash +and noise, and rushed towards the bull, pointing it menacingly. The +animal, no doubt more startled than they were, tore away and gained +the highroad again. Then everyone had leisure to see that Mrs. +Brightman was lying on the ground partly under the carriage. + +She must have fallen in turning round, partly from fright, partly from +the moving of the carriage. The horses had also been somewhat startled +by the bull's noise, and one of them began to prance. The coachman had +his horses well in hand, and soon quieted them; but he had not been +able to prevent the movement, which had no doubt chiefly caused his +mistress to fall. + +They quickly drew her from under the carriage and attempted to raise +her; but she cried out with such tones of agony that the surgeon +feared she was seriously injured. As soon as possible she was conveyed +indoors on a mattress. Another surgeon joined Mr. Close, and it was +found that her leg was broken near the ankle. + +When it had been set and the commotion was subsiding, Perry was +despatched to Essex Street with the carriage and the bad news--the +carriage to bring back Annabel. + +"What was it you really came to my surgery for, Perry?" Mr. Close took +an opportunity of asking him before he started. + +"It was about my mistress, sir," answered the man. "Hatch felt quite +sure, by signs and tokens, that Mrs. Brightman was going to--to--be +ill again. She sent me to tell you, sir, and to ask if you couldn't +give her something to stop it." + +"Ah, I thought as much. But when I saw you all out there, your +mistress looking well and about to take a drive, I concluded I had +been mistaken," said the surgeon. + + * * * * * + +I had run upstairs during the afternoon to ask a question of Annabel, +and was standing beside her at the drawing-room window, where she sat +at work, when a carriage came swiftly down the street, and stopped at +the door. + +"Why, it is mamma's!" exclaimed Annabel, looking out. + +"But I don't see her in it," I rejoined. + +"Oh, she must be in it, Charles. Perry is on the box." + +Perry was getting down, but was not quite so quick in his movements as +a slim young footman would be. He rang the door-bell, and I was +fetched down to him. In two minutes afterwards I had disclosed the +news to my wife, and brought Perry upstairs that she might herself +question him. The tears were coursing down her cheeks. + +"Don't take on, Miss Annabel," said the man, feeling quite too much +lost in the bad tidings to remember Annabel's new title. "There's not +the least bit of danger, ma'am; Mr. Close bade me say it; all is sure +to go on well." + +"Did you bring the carriage for me, Perry?" + +"Yes, ma'am, I did. And it was my mistress herself thought of it. When +Mr. Close, or Hatch--one of 'em it was, I don't know which--told her +they were going to send me for you, she said, 'Let Perry take the +carriage.' Oh, ma'am, indeed she is fully as well as she could be: it +was only at first that she seemed faintish like." + +Annabel went back in the carriage at once. I promised to follow her as +early in the evening as I could get away. Relying upon the butler's +assurance that Mrs. Brightman was not in the slightest danger; that, +on the contrary, it would be an illness of weeks, if not of months, +there was no necessity for accompanying Annabel at an inconvenient +moment. + +"It is, in one sense, the luckiest thing that could have happened to +her," Mr. Close remarked to me that evening when we were conversing +together. + +"Lucky! How do you mean?" + +"Well, she _must_ be under our control now," he answered in +significant tones, "and we were fearing, only to-day, that she was on +the point of breaking out again. A long spell of enforced abstinence, +such as this, may effect wonders." + +Of course, looking at it in that light, the accident might be called +fortunate. "There's a silver lining to every cloud." + +Annabel took up her abode temporarily at her mother's: Mrs. Brightman +requested it. I went down there of an evening--though not every +evening--returning to Essex Street in the morning. Tom's increasing +illness kept me in town occasionally, for I could not help going to +see him, and he was growing weaker day by day. The closing features of +consumption were gaining upon him rapidly. To add to our difficulties, +Mr. Policeman Wren, who seemed to follow Tom's changes of domicile in +a very ominous and remarkable manner, had now transferred his beat +from Southwark, and might be seen pacing before Lennard's door ten +times a day. + +One morning when I had come up from Clapham and was seated in my own +room opening letters, Lennard entered. He closed the door with a +quiet, cautious movement, and waited, without speaking. + +"Anything particular, Lennard?" + +"Yes, sir; I've brought rather bad news," he said. "Captain Heriot is +worse." + +"Worse? In what way? But he is not Captain Heriot, Lennard; he is Mr. +Brown. Be careful." + +"We cannot be overheard," he answered, glancing at the closed door. +"He appeared so exceedingly weak last night that I thought I would sit +up with him for an hour or two, and then lie down on his sofa for the +rest of the night. About five o'clock this morning he had a violent +fit of coughing and broke a blood-vessel." + +"What did you do?" + +"I know a little of the treatment necessary in such cases, and we got +the doctor to him as soon as possible. Mr. Purfleet does not give the +slightest hope now. In fact, he thinks that a very few days more will +bring the ending." + +I sat back in my chair. Poor Tom! Poor Tom! + +"It is the best for him, Mr. Charles," spoke Lennard, with some +emotion. "Better, infinitely, than that of which he has been running +the risk. When a man's life is marred as he has marred his, heaven +must seem like a haven of refuge to him." + +"Has he any idea of his critical state?" + +"Yes; and, I feel sure, is quite reconciled to it. He remarked this +morning how much he should like to see Blanche: meaning, I presume, +Lady Level." + +"Ah, but there are difficulties in the way, Lennard. I will come to +him myself, but not until evening. There's no immediate danger, you +tell me, and I do not care to be seen entering your house during the +day while he is in it. The big policeman might be on the watch, and +ask me what I wanted there." + +Lennard left the room and I returned to my letters. The next I took up +was a note from Blanche. Lord Level was not _yet_ back from Marshdale, +she told me in it; he kept writing miserable scraps of notes in which +he put her off with excuses from day to day, always assuring her he +hoped to be up on the morrow. But she could see she was being played +with; and the patience which, in obedience to me and Major Carlen, she +had been exercising, was very nearly exhausted. She wrote this, she +concluded by saying, to warn me that it was so. + +Truth to say, I did wonder what was keeping Level at Marshdale. He had +been there more than a week now. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +LAST DAYS. + + +Tom Heriot lay on his sofa in his bedroom, the firelight flickering on +his faded face. This was Monday, the third day since the attack spoken +of by Lennard, and there had not been any return of it. His voice was +stronger this evening; he seemed better altogether, and was jesting, +as he loved to do. Leah had been to see him during the day, and he was +recounting one or two of their passages-at-arms, with much glee. + +"Charley, old fellow, you look as solemn as a judge." + +Most likely I did. I sat on the other side the hearthrug, gazing as I +listened to him; and I thought I saw in his face the grayness that +frequently precedes death. + +"Did you know that that giant of the force, Wren, had his eye upon me, +Charley?" + +"No! Why do you say so?" + +"Well, I think he has--some suspicion, at any rate. He parades before +the house like a walking apparition. I look at him from behind the +curtains in the other room. He paraded in like manner, you know, +before that house in Southwark and the other one in Lambeth." + +"It may be only a coincidence, Tom. The police are moved about a good +deal from beat to beat, I fancy." + +"Perhaps so," assented Tom carelessly. "If he came in and took me, I +don't think he could do much with me now. He accosted Purfleet +to-day." + +"Accosted Purfleet!" + +Tom nodded. "After his morning visit to me, he went dashing out of the +street-door in his usual quick way, and dashed against Wren. One +might think a regiment of soldiers were always waiting to have their +legs and arms cut off, and that Purfleet had to do it, by the way he +rushes about," concluded Tom. + +"Well?" + +"'In a hurry this morning, doctor,' says old Wren, who is uncommonly +fond of hearing himself talk. 'And who is it that's ill at Mr. +Lennard's?' 'I generally am in a hurry,' says Purfleet, 'and so would +you be if you had as many sick people on your hands. At Lennard's? +Why, that poor suffering daughter of his has had another attack, and I +don't know whether I shall save her.' And, with that, Purfleet got +away. He related this to me when he came in at tea-time." + +A thought struck me. "But, Tom, does Purfleet know that you are in +concealment here? Or why should he have put his visits to you upon +Maria Lennard?" + +"Why, how could he be off knowing it? Lennard asked him at first, as a +matter of precaution, not to speak of me in the neighbourhood. Mr. +Brown was rather under a cloud just now, he said. I wouldn't mind +betting a silver sixpence, Charley, that he knows I am Tom Heriot." + +I wondered whether Tom was joking. + +"Likely enough," went on Tom. "He knows that you come to see me, and +that you are Mr. Strange, of Essex Street. And he has heard, I'll lay, +that Mr. Strange had a wicked sort of half-brother, one Captain +Heriot, who fell into the fetters of the law and escaped them, +and--and may be the very Mr. Brown who's lying ill here. Purfleet can +put two and two together as cleverly as other people, Charles." + +"If so, it is frightfully hazardous----" + +"Not at all," interrupted Tom with equanimity. "He'd no more betray +me, Charley, than he'd betray himself. Doctors don't divulge the +secrets of their patients; they keep them. It is a point of honour in +the medical code: as well as of self-interest. What family would call +in a man who was known to run about saying the Smiths next door had +veal for dinner to-day, and they ought to have had mutton? If no more +harm reaches me than any brought about by Purfleet, I am safe enough." + +It might be as he said. And I saw that he would be incautious to the +end. + +At that moment Mrs. Lennard came in with something in a breakfast-cup. +"You are a good lady," said Tom gratefully. "See how they feed me up, +Charley!" + +But for the hollow tones, the hectic flush and the brilliant eyes, it +might almost have been thought he was getting better. The cough had +nearly left him, and the weakness was not more apparent than it had +been for a week past. But that faint, deep, _far-away_ sounding voice, +which had now come on, told the truth. The close was near at hand. + +After Mrs. Lennard had left the room with the empty cup, Tom lay back +on the sofa, put his head on the pillow, and in a minute or two seemed +to be asleep. Presently I moved gently across the hearthrug to fold +the warm, light quilt upon his knees. He opened his eyes. + +"You need not creep, Charley. I am not asleep. I had a regular good +sleep in the afternoon, and don't feel inclined for it now. I was +thinking about the funeral." + +"The funeral!" I echoed, taken back. "Whose funeral?" + +"Mine. They won't care to lay me by my mother, will they?--I mean my +own mother. The world might put its inquisitive word in, and say that +must be Tom Heriot, the felon. Neither you nor Level would like that, +nor old Carlen either." + +I made no answer, uncertain what to say. + +"Yet I should like to lie by her," he went on. "There was a large +vault made, when she died, to hold the three of us--herself, my father +and me. _They_ are in it; I should like to be placed with them." + +"Time enough to think of that, Tom, when--when--the time comes," I +stammered. + +"The time's not far off now, Charley." + +"Two nights ago, when I was here, you assured me you were getting +better." + +"Well, I thought I might be; there are such ups and downs in a man's +state. He will appear sick unto death to-day, and tomorrow be driving +down to a whitebait dinner at Greenwich. I've changed my opinion, +Charley; I've had my warning." + +"Had your warning! What does that mean?" + +"I should like to see Blanche," he whispered. "Dear little Blanche! +How I used to tease her in our young days, and Leah would box my ears +for it; and I teased you also, Charley. Could you not bring her here, +if Level would let her come?" + +"Tom, I hardly know. For one thing, she has not heard anything of the +past trouble, as you are aware. She thinks you are in India with the +regiment, and calls you a very undutiful brother for not writing to +her. I suppose it might be managed." + +"Dear little Blanche!" he repeated. "Yes, I teased her--and loved her +all the time. Just one visit, Charley. It will be the last until we +meet upon the eternal shores. Try and contrive it." + +I sat thinking how it might be done--the revelation to Blanche, +bringing her to the house, and obtaining the consent of Lord Level; +for I should not care to stir in it without his consent. Tom appeared +to be thinking also, and a silence ensued. It was he who broke it. + +"Charles!" + +"Yes?" + +"Do you ever recall events that passed in our old life at White +Littleham Rectory? do any of them lie in your memory?" + +"I think all of them lie in it," I answered. "My memory is, you know, +a remarkably good one." + +"Ay," said Tom. And then he paused again. "Do you recollect that +especial incident when your father told us of his dream?" he continued +presently. "I picture the scene now; it has been present to my mind +all day. A frosty winter morning, icicles on the trees and frosty +devices on the window-panes. You and I and your father seated round +the breakfast-table; Leah pouring out the coffee and cutting bread and +butter for us. He appeared to be in deep thought, and when I remarked +upon it, and you asked him what he was thinking of, he said his dream. +D'you mind it, lad?" + +"I do. The thing made an impression on me. The scene and what passed +at it are as plain to me now as though it had happened yesterday. +After saying he was thinking of his dream, he added, in a dubious +tone, 'If it _was_ a dream.' Mr. Penthorn came in whilst he was +telling it. + +"He was fast asleep; had gone to bed in the best of health, probably +concocting matter for next Sunday's sermon," resumed Tom, recalling +the facts. "Suddenly, he awoke at the sound of a voice. It was his +late wife's voice; your mother, Charley. He was wide awake on the +instant, and knew the voice for hers; she appeared to be standing at +the bedside." + +"But he did not see her," I put in. + +"No; he never said he saw her," replied Tom Heriot. "But the +impression was upon him that a figure stood there, and that after +speaking it retreated towards the window. He got up and struck a light +and found the room empty, no trace of anyone's having been in it. +Nevertheless he could not get rid of the belief, though not a +superstitious man, that it was his wife who came to him." + +"In the spirit." + +"In the spirit, of course. He knew her voice perfectly, he said. Mr. +Penthorn rather ridiculed the matter; saying it was nothing but a +vivid dream. I don't think it made much impression upon your father, +except that it puzzled him." + +"I don't think it did," I assented, my thoughts all in the past. "As +you observe, Tom, he was not superstitious; he had no particular +belief in the supernatural." + +"No; it faded from all our minds with the day--Leah's perhaps +excepted. But what was the result? On the fourth night afterwards he +died. The dream occurred on the Friday morning a little before three +o'clock; your father looked at his watch when he got out of bed and +saw that it wanted a quarter to three. On Tuesday morning at a quarter +to three he died in his study, into which he had been carried after +his accident." + +All true. The circumstances, to me, were painful even now. + +"Well, what do you make of it, Charles?" + +"Nothing. But I don't quite understand your question." + +"Do you think his wife really came to him?--That she was permitted to +come back to earth to warn him of his approaching death?" + +"I have always believed that. I can hardly see how anyone could doubt +it." + +"Well, Charley, I did. I was a graceless, light-headed young wight, +you know, and serious things made no impression on me. If I thought +about it at all, it was to put it down to fancy; or a dream, as Mr. +Penthorn said; and I don't believe I've ever had the thing in my mind +from that time to this." + +"And why should it come back to you now?" I asked. + +"Because," answered Tom, "I think I have had a similar warning." + +He spoke very calmly. I looked at him. He was sitting upright on the +sofa now, his feet stretched out on a warm wool footstool, the quilt +lying across his knees, and his hands resting upon it. + +"What can you mean, Tom?" + +"It was last night," he answered; "or, rather, this morning. I was in +bed, and pretty soundly asleep, for me, and I began to dream. I +thought I saw my father come in through the door, that one opening to +the passage, cross the room and sit down by the bedside with his face +turned to me. I mean my own father, Colonel Heriot. He looked just as +he used to look; not a day older; his fine figure erect, his bright, +wavy hair brushed off his brow as he always wore it, his blue eyes +smiling and kindly. I was not in the least surprised to see him; his +coming in seemed to be quite a matter of course. 'Well, Thomas,' he +began, looking at me after he had sat down; 'we have been parted for +some time, and I have much to say to you.' 'Say it now, papa,' I +answered, going back in my dream to the language of childhood's days. +'There's not time now,' he replied; 'we must wait a little yet; it +won't be long, Thomas.' Then I saw him rise from the chair, re-cross +the room to the door, turn to look at me with a smile, and go out, +leaving the door open. I awoke in a moment; at the very moment, I am +certain; and for some little time I could not persuade myself that +what had passed was not reality. The chair in which he had sat stood +at the bedside, and the door was wide open." + +"But I suppose the chair had been there all night, and that someone +was sitting up with you? Whoever it was must have opened the door." + +"The chair had been there all night," assented Tom. "But the door had +_not_ been opened by human hands, so far as I can learn. It was old +Faith's turn to sit up last night--that worthy old soul of a servant +who has clung to the Lennards through all their misfortunes. Finding +that I slept comfortably, Faith had fallen asleep too in the big chair +in that corner behind you. She declared that the door had been firmly +shut--and I believe she thought it was I who had got up and opened +it." + +"It was a dream, Tom." + +"Granted. But it was a warning. It came--nay, who can say it was not +_he_ who came?--to show me that I shall soon be with him. We shall +have time, and to spare, to talk then. I have never had so vivid a +dream in my life; or one that so left behind it the impression that it +had been reality." + +"Well----" + +"Look here," he interrupted. "Your father said, if you remember, that +the visit paid to him, whether real or imaginary, by his wife, and the +words she spoke, had revived within him his recollections of her +voice, which had in a slight degree begun to fade. Well, Charles, I +give you my word that I had partly forgotten my father's appearance; I +was only a little fellow when he died; but his visit to me in my dream +last night has brought it back most vividly. Come, you wise old +lawyer, what do you say to that?" + +"I don't know, Tom. Such things _are_, I suppose." + +"If I got well and lived to be a hundred years old, I should never +laugh at them again." + +"Did you tell Leah this when she was here to-day?" + +"Ay; and of course she burst out crying. 'Take it as it's meant, +Master Tom,' said she, 'and prepare yourself. It is your warning.' +Just as she had told your father, Charles, that that other was _his_ +warning. She was right then; she is right now." + +"You cannot know it. And you must not let this trouble you." + +"It does not trouble me," he answered quickly. "Rather the contrary, +for it sets my mind at rest. I have had little hope of myself for some +time past; I have had none, so to say, since that sudden attack a few +nights ago; nevertheless, I won't say but a grain of it may have still +deluded me now and again. Hope is the last thing we part with in this +world, you know, lad. But this dream-visit of my father has shown me +the truth beyond all doubt; and now I have only to make my packet, as +the French say, and wait for the signal to start." + +We talked together a little longer, but my time was up. I left him for +the night and apparently in the best of spirits. + +Lennard was alone in his parlour when I got downstairs. I asked him +whether he had heard of this fancy of Tom's about the dream. + +"Yes," he answered. "He told me about it this evening, when I was +sitting with him after tea; but he did not seem at all depressed by +it. I don't think it matters much either way," added Lennard +thoughtfully, "for the end cannot be far off now." + +"He has an idea that Purfleet guesses who he really is." + +"But he has no grounds for saying it," returned Lennard. "Purfleet +heard when he was first called in that 'Mr. Brown' wished to be kept +_en cachette_, if I may so put it; but that he should guess him to be +Captain Heriot is quite improbable. Because Captain Heriot is aware of +his own identity, he assumes that other people must needs be aware of +it." + +"One might trust Purfleet not to betray him, I fancy, if he does guess +it?" + +"That I am sure of," said Lennard warmly. "He is kind and benevolent. +Most medical men are so from their frequent contact with the dark +shades of life, whether of sickness or of sorrow. As to Purfleet, he +is too hard-worked, poor man, to have much leisure for speculating +upon the affairs of other people." + +"Wren is still walking about here." + +"Yes; but I think he has been put upon this beat in the ordinary way +of things, not that he is looking after anyone in particular. Mr. +Strange, if he had any suspicion of Captain Heriot in Lambeth, he +would have taken him; he would have taken him again when in Southwark; +and he would, ere this, have taken him here. Wren appears to be one of +those gossiping men who must talk to everybody; and I believe that is +all the mystery." + +Wishing Lennard good-night, I went home to Essex Street, and sat down +to write to Lord Level. He would not receive the letter at Marshdale +until the following afternoon, but it would be in time for him to +answer me by the evening post. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +LAST WORDS. + + +The next day, Tuesday, I was very busy, hurrying forward to get down +to Clapham in time for dinner in the evening. Lennard's report in the +morning had been that Captain Heriot was no worse, and that Mr. +Purfleet, who had paid him an early visit, said there might be no +change for a week or more. + +In the afternoon I received a brief note from Mr. Serjeant +Stillingfar, asking me to be in Russell Square the following morning +by eight o'clock: he wished to see me very particularly. + +Knowing that when he named any special hour he meant it, and that he +expected everyone who had dealings with him to be as punctual as +himself, I came up to town on the Wednesday morning, and was at his +house a few minutes before eight o'clock. The Serjeant was just +sitting down to breakfast. + +"Will you take some, Charles?" he asked. + +"No, thank you, uncle. I have just come up from Clapham, and +breakfasted before starting." + +"How is Mrs. Brightman going on?" + +"Quite well. It will be a long job, the doctors say, from something +unusual connected with the fracture, but nothing dangerous." + +"Sit down, Charles," he said. "And tell me at once. Is Captain +Heriot," lowering his voice, "in a state to be got away?" + +The words did not surprise me. The whole night it had been in my mind +that the Serjeant's mandate concerned Tom Heriot. + +"No; it would be impossible," I answered. "He has to be moved gently, +from bed to sofa, and can only walk, if he attempts it at all, by +being helped on both sides. Three or four days ago, a vessel on the +lungs broke; any undue exertion would at once be fatal." + +"Then, do I understand you that he is actually dying?" + +"Undoubtedly he is, sir. I was with him on Monday night, and saw in +his face the gray hue which is the precursor of death. I am sure I was +not mistaken----" + +"That peculiar hue can never be mistaken by those who have learnt from +sad experience," he interrupted dreamily. + +"He may linger on a few days, even a week or so, I believe the doctor +thinks, but death is certainly on its road; and he must die where he +is, Uncle Stillingfar. He cannot be again moved." + +The Serjeant sat silent for a few moments. "It is very unfortunate, +Charles," he resumed. "Could he have been got away it would be better +for him, better for you all. Though, in truth, it is not I who ought +to suggest it, as you well know; but sometimes one's private and +public duties oppose each other." + +"Have you heard anything, uncle?" + +"I have heard from a sure source that the authorities know that +Captain Heriot is in London. They know it positively: but not, I +think, where he is concealed. The search for him will now commence in +earnest." + +"It is, indeed, unfortunate. I have been hoping he would be left to +die in peace. One thing is certain: if the police find him they can +only let him remain where he is. They cannot remove him." + +"Then nothing can be done: things must take their course," sighed the +Serjeant. "You must take precautions yourself, Charles. Most probably +the movements of those connected with him will now be watched, in the +hope that they may afford a clue to his hiding-place." + +"I cannot abandon him, Uncle Stillingfar. I must see him to the end. +We have been as brothers, you know. He wants to see Blanche, and I +have written about it to Lord Level." + +"Well, well, I cannot advise; I wish I could," he replied. "But I +thought it my duty to let you know this." + +"A few days will, in any case, see the ending," I whispered as I bade +him goodbye. "Thank you for all your sympathy, uncle." + +"My boy, there is One above," raising his hand reverently, "who has +more pity for us than we have for one another. He can keep him in +peace yet. Don't forget that, Charles." + +To my office, then, and the morning letters. Amidst them lay Lord +Level's answer. Some of its contents surprised me. + + "Marshdale House, + + "Tuesday Evening. + + "DEAR CHARLES, + + "If you like to undertake the arrangement of the visit you + propose, do so. I have no objection. For some little time now + I have thought that it might be better that my wife should know + the truth. You see she is, and has been, liable to hear it at + any moment through some untoward revelation, for which she + would not be prepared; and the care I have taken to avoid this + has not only been sometimes inconvenient to myself, but + misconstrued by Blanche. When we were moving about after our + marriage, I kept her in unfrequented places, as far as I could, + to spare her the chance of this; men's lips were full of it + just then, as you know. Blanche resented that bitterly, putting + it all down to some curious purposes of my own. Let her hear + the truth now. I am not on the spot to impart it to her myself, + and shall be glad if you will do so. Afterwards you can take + her to see the invalid. I am sorry for what you say of his + state. Tell him so: and that he has my sympathy and best + wishes. + + "Blanche has been favouring me lately with some letters written + in anything but a complimentary strain. One that I received + this morning coolly informs me that she is about to 'Take + immediate steps to obtain a formal separation, if not a + divorce.' I am not able to travel to London and settle things + with her, and have written to her to tell her to come here to + me. The fact is, I am ill. Strange to say, the same sort of low + fever which attacked me when I was at Marshdale last autumn has + returned upon me now. It is not as bad as it was then, but I am + confined to bed. Spare the time to bring Blanche down, there's + a good fellow. I have told her that you will do so. Come on + Thursday if convenient to you, and remain the night. She shall + hear what I have to say to her; after that, she can talk of a + separation if she likes. You shall hear it also. + + "Ever truly yours, + + "LEVEL." + +Whilst deliberating upon the contents of this letter, and how I could +best carry out its requests, Lennard came in, as usual on his arrival +for the day, to give me his report of Tom Heriot. There was not any +apparent change in him, he said, either for the better or the worse. I +informed Lennard of what I had just heard from the Serjeant. + +Then I despatched a clerk to Gloucester Place with a note for Blanche, +telling her I should be with her early in the evening, and that she +must not fail to be at home, as my business was important. + +Twilight was falling when I arrived. Blanche sat at one of the windows +in the drawing-room, looking listlessly into the street in the fading +light. Old Mrs. Guy, who was staying with her, was lying on the +dining-room sofa, Blanche said, having retired to it and fallen asleep +after dinner. + +How lovely Blanche looked; but how cross! She wore a pale blue silk, +her favourite colour, with a gold necklace and open bracelets, from +which drooped a heart set with sapphires and diamonds; and her fair, +silken hair looked as if she had been impatiently pushing it about. + +"I know what you have come for, Charles," she said in fretful tones, +as I sat down near her. "Lord Level prepared me in a letter I received +from him this morning." + +"Indeed!" I answered lightly. "What did the preparation consist of?" + +"I wrote to him," said Blanche. "I have written to him more than once, +telling him I am about to get a separation. In answer, my lord +commands me down to Marshdale"--very resentfully--"and says you are to +take me down." + +"All quite right, Blanche; quite true, so far. But----" + +"But I don't know that I shall go. I think I shall not go." + +"A wife should obey her husband's commands." + +"I do not intend to be his wife any longer. And you cannot wish me to +be, Charles; you ought not to wish it. Lord Level's conduct is simply +shameful. What right has he to stay at Marshdale--amusing himself down +there?" + +"I fancy he cannot help staying there at present. Has he told you he +is ill?" + +She glanced quickly round at me. + +"Has he told _you_ that he is so?" + +"Yes, Blanche; he has. He is too ill to travel." + +She paused for a moment, and then tossed back her pretty hair with a +scornful hand. + +"And you believed him! Anything for an excuse. He is no more ill than +I am, Charles; rely upon that." + +"But I am certain----" + +"Don't go on," she interrupted, tapping her dainty black satin slipper +on the carpet; a petulant movement to which Blanche was given, even as +a child. "If you have come for the purpose of whitening my husband to +me, as papa is always doing. I will not listen to you." + +"You will not listen to any sort of reasoning whatever. I see that, my +dear." + +"Reasoning, indeed!" she retorted. "Say sophistry." + +"Listen for an instant, Blanche; consider this one little item: I +believe Lord Level to be ill, confined to his bed with low fever, as +he tells me; you refuse to believe it; you say he is well. Now, +considering that he expects us both to be at Marshdale to-morrow, can +you not perceive how entirely, ridiculously void of purpose it would +be for him to say he is seriously ill if he is not so?" + +"I don't care," said my young lady. "He is deeper than any fox." + +"Blanche, my opinion is, and you are aware of it, that you misjudge +your husband. Upon one or two points I _know_ you do. But I did not +come here to discuss these unpleasant topics--you are in error there, +you see. I came upon a widely different matter: to disclose something +to you that will very greatly distress you, and I am grieved to be +obliged to do it." + +The words changed her mood. She looked half frightened. + +"Oh!" she burst forth, before I had time to say another word. "Is it +my husband? You say he is ill! He is not dead?" + +"My dear, be calm. It is not about your husband at all. It is about +some one else, though, who is very ill--Tom Heriot." + +Grieved she no doubt was; but the relief that crept into her face, +tone and attitude proved that the one man was little to her compared +with the other, and that she loved her husband yet with an impassioned +love. + +By degrees, softening the facts as much as possible, I told the tale. +Of Tom's apprehension about the time of her marriage; his trial which +followed close upon it; his conviction, and departure for a penal +settlement; his escape; his return to England; his concealments to +evade detection; his illness; and his present state. Blanche shivered +and cried as she listened, and finally fell upon her knees, and buried +her face in the cushions of the chair. + +"And is there _no_ hope for him, Charles?" she said, looking up after +a while. + +"My dear, there is no hope. And, under the circumstances, it is +happier for him to die than to continue to live. But he would like to +see you, Blanche." + +"Poor Tom! Poor Tom! Can we go to him now--this evening?" + +"Yes; it is what I came to propose. It is the best time. He----" + +"Shall I order the carriage?" + +The interruption made me laugh. My Lord Level's state carriage and +powdered servants at that poor fugitive's door! + +"My dear, we must go in the quietest manner. We will take a cab as we +walk along, and get out of it before turning into the street where he +is lying. Change this blue silk for one of the plainest dresses that +you have, and wear a close bonnet and a veil." + +"Oh, of course; I see. Charles, I am too thoughtless." + +"Wait an instant," I said, arresting her as she was crossing the room. +"I must return for a moment to our controversy touching your husband. +You complained bitterly of him last year for secluding you in dull, +remote parts of the Continent, and especially for keeping you away +from England. You took up the notion, and proclaimed it to those who +would listen to you, that it was to serve his own purposes. Do you +remember this?" + +"Well?" said Blanche timidly, her colour coming and going as she stood +with her hands on the table. "He did keep me away; he did seclude me." + +"It was done out of love for you, Blanche. Whilst your heart felt +nothing but reproach for him, his was filled with care and +consideration for you; where to keep you, how to guard you from +hearing of the disgrace and trouble that had overtaken your brother. +_We_ knew--I and Mr. Brightman--Lord Level's motive; and Major Carlen +knew. I believe Level would have given years of his life to save you +from the knowledge always and secure you peace. Now, Blanche, my dear, +as you perceive that, at least in that one respect, you misjudged him +then, do you not think you may be misjudging him still?" + +She burst into tears. "No, I don't think so," she said. "I wish I +could think so. You know that he maintains some dreadful secret at +Marshdale; and that--that--wicked Italians are often staying +there--singers perhaps; I shouldn't wonder; or ballet-dancers--anyway, +people who can have no right and no business to be there. You know +that one of them stabbed him--Oh yes, she did, and it was a woman with +long hair." + +"I do not know anything of the kind." + +"Charles, you look at me reproachfully, as if the blame lay with me +instead of him. Can't you see what a misery it all is for me, and that +it is wearing my life away?" she cried passionately, the tears falling +from her eyes. "I would rather _die_ than separate from him, if I were +not forced to it by the goings on at that wretched Marshdale. What +will life be worth to me, parted from him? I look forward to it with a +sick dread. Charles, I do indeed; and now, when I know--what--is +perhaps--coming----" + +Blanche suddenly crossed her arms upon the table, hid her face upon +them, and sobbed bitterly. + +"What is perhaps coming?" + +"I'm afraid it is, Charles." + +"But what is?" + +"An heir, perhaps." + +It was some moments before I took in the sense of the words. Then I +laughed. + +"Oh well, Blanche! Of course you ought to talk of separation with +_that_ in prospect! Go and put your things on, you silly child: the +evening is wearing away." + +And she left the room. + + * * * * * + +Side by side on the sofa, Blanche's fair head pillowed upon his +breast, his arm thrown round her. She had taken off her bonnet and +mantle, and was crying quietly. + +"Be calm, my dear sister. It is all for the best." + +"Tom, Tom, how came you to do it?" + +"I didn't do it, my dear one. That's where they were mistaken. I +should be no more capable of doing such a thing than you are." + +"Then why did they condemn you--and say you were guilty?" + +"They knew no better. The guilty man escaped, and I suffered." + +"But why did you not tell the truth? Why did you not accuse him to the +judge?" + +"I told the judge I was innocent; but that is what most prisoners say, +and it made no impression on him," replied Tom. "For the rest, I did +not understand the affair as well as I did after the trial. All had +been so hurried; there was no time for anything. Yes, Blanche, you may +at least take this solitary bit of consolation to your heart--that I +was not guilty." + +"And that other man, who was?" she asked eagerly, lifting her face. +"Where is he?" + +"Flourishing," said Tom. "Driving about the world four-in-hand, no +doubt, and taking someone else in as he took me." + +Blanche turned to me, looking haughty enough. + +"Charles, cannot anything be done to expose the man?" she cried. Tom +spoke again before I could answer. + +"It will not matter to me then, one way or the other. But, Charley, I +do sometimes wish, as I lie thinking, that the truth might be made +known and my memory cleared. I was reckless and foolish enough, heaven +knows, but I never did that for which I was tried and sentenced." + +Now, since we had been convinced of Tom Heriot's innocence, the +question whether it would be possible to clear him before the world +had often been in my mind. Lake and I had discussed it more than once. +It would be difficult, no doubt, but it was just possible that time +might place some advantage in our hands and open up a way to us. I +mentioned this now. + +"Ay, difficult enough, I dare say," commented Tom. "With a hundred +barriers in the way--eh, Charley?" + +"The chief difficulty would lie, I believe, in the fact you +acknowledged just now, Tom--your own folly. People argue--they argued +at the time--that a young man so reckless as you were would not stick +at a trifle." + +"Just so," replied Tom with equanimity. "I ought to have pulled up +before, and--I did not. Well; you know my innocence, and now Blanche +knows it, and Level knows it, and old Carlen knows it; you are about +all that are near to me; and the public must be left to chance. +There's one good man, though, I should like to know it, Charles, and +that's Serjeant Stillingfar." + +"He knows it already, Tom. Be at ease on that score." + +"Does _he_ think, I wonder, that my memory might ever be cleared?" + +"He thinks it would be easier to clear you than it would be to trace +the guilt to its proper quarter; but the one, you see, rests upon the +other. There are no proofs, that we know of, to bring forward of that +man's guilt; and----" + +"He took precious good care there should be none," interrupted Tom. +"Let Anstey alone for protecting himself." + +"Just so. But--I was going to say--the Serjeant thinks you have one +chance in your favour. It is this: The man, Anstey, being what he is, +will probably fall into some worse crime which cannot be hidden or +hushed up. When conviction overtakes him, he may be induced to confess +that it was he, and not Captain Heriot, who bore the lion's share in +that past exploit for which you suffered. Rely upon this, Tom--should +any such chance of clearing your memory present itself, it will not be +neglected. I shall be on the watch always." + +There was silence for a time. Tom was leaning back, pale and +exhausted, his breath was short, his face gray, wan and wasted. + +"Has Leah been to see you?" Blanche asked him. + +"Yes, twice; and she considers herself very hardly dealt by that she +may not come here to nurse me," he replied. + +"Could she not be here?" + +I shook my head. "It would not be safe, Blanche. It would be running +another risk. You see, trouble would fall upon others as well as Tom, +were he discovered now: upon me, and more especially upon Lennard." + +"They would be brought to trial for concealing me, just as I was +brought to trial for a different crime," said Tom lightly. "Our +English laws are comprehensive, I assure you, Blanche. Poor Leah says +it is cruel not to let her see the end. I asked her what good she'd +derive from it." + +Blanche gave a sobbing sigh. "How can you talk so lightly, Tom?" + +"Lightly!" he cried, in apparent astonishment. "I don't myself see +very much that's light in that. When the end is at hand, Blanche, why +ignore it?" + +She turned her face again to him, burying it upon his arm, in utmost +sorrow. + +"Don't, Blanche!" he said, his voice trembling. "There's nothing to +cry for; nothing. My darling sister, can't you see what a life mine +has been for months past: pain of body, distress and apprehension of +mind! Think what a glorious change it will be to leave all this for +Heaven!" + +"Are you _sure_ of going there, dear?" she whispered. "Have you made +your peace?" + +Tom smiled at her. Tears were in his own eyes. + +"I think so. Do you remember that wonderful answer to the petition of +the thief on the cross? The promise came back to him at once, on the +instant: 'Verily, I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in +Paradise.' He had been as much of a sinner as I, Blanche." + +Blanche was crying softly. Tom held her to him. + +"Imagine," he said, "how the change must have broken on that poor man. +To pass from the sorrow and suffering of this life into the realms of +Paradise! There was no question as to his fitness, you see, or whether +he had been good or bad; all the sin of the past was condoned when he +took his humble appeal to his Redeemer: 'Lord, remember me when Thou +comest into Thy kingdom!' Blanche, my dear, I know that He will also +remember me." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +DOWN AT MARSHDALE. + + +It was Thursday morning, the day on which Blanche Level was to travel +to Marshdale. She sat in her dining-room at Gloucester Place, her +fingers busy over some delicate fancy-work, her thoughts divided +between the sad interview she had held with Tom Heriot the previous +night, and the forthcoming interview with her husband; whilst her +attention was partially given to old Mrs. Guy, who sat in an +easy-chair by the fire, a thick plaid shawl on her shoulders and her +feet on the fender, recounting the history of an extraordinary pain +which had attacked her in the night. But as Mrs. Guy rarely passed a +night without experiencing some extraordinary pain or other, Blanche +listened absently. + +"It is the heart, my dear; I am becoming sure of that," said the old +lady. "Last year, if you remember, the physician put it down to +spleen; but when I go to him tomorrow and tell him of this dreadful +oppression, he will change his opinion." + +"Don't you think you keep yourself too warm?" said Blanche, who looked +so cool and fresh in her pretty morning dress. "That shawl is heavy, +and the fire is warm; yet it is still quite summer weather." + +"Ah, child, you young people call it summer weather all the year round +if the sun only shines. When you get to be my age, Blanche, you will +know what cold means. I dare say you'll go flying off to Marshdale +this afternoon in that gossamer dress you have on, or one as thin and +flowing." + +"No, I shan't," laughed Blanche; "it would be tumbled and spoilt by +the time I got there. I shall go in that pretty new gray cashmere, +trimmed with silk brocade." + +"That's a lovely dress, child; too good to travel in. And you tell me +you will be back to-morrow. I don't think that very likely, my +dear----" + +"But I intend to be," interrupted Blanche. + +"You will see," nodded the old lady. "When your husband gets you +there, he will keep you there. Give my love to him, Blanche, and say I +hope he will be in town before I go back to Jersey. I should like to +see him." + +Blanche was not paying particular attention to this message. Her +attention was attracted by a telegraph boy, who seemed to be +approaching the door. The next moment there was a loud knock, which +made Mrs. Guy start. Blanche explained that it was a telegram. + +"Oh, dear," cried the old lady. "I don't like telegrams; they always +give me a turn. Perhaps it's come from Jersey to say my house is +burned down." + +The telegram, however, had come from Marshdale. It was addressed to +Lady Level, and proved to be from her husband. + + "_Do not come to Marshdale to-day. Put it off until next week. + I am writing to you. Wait for letter. Let Charles know._" + +Now my Lady Level, staring at the message, and being in chronic +resentment against her husband, all sorts of unorthodox suspicions +rife within her, put the worst possible construction upon this +mandate. + +"I _knew_ how much he would have me at Marshdale!" she exclaimed in +anger, as she tossed the telegram on the table. "'Don't come down till +next week! Wait for letter!' Yes, and next week there'll come another +message, telling me I am not to go at all, or that he will be back +here. It _is_ a shame!" + +"But what is it?" cried old Mrs. Guy, who did not understand, and knew +nothing of any misunderstanding between Blanche and her husband. "Not +to go, you say? Is his lordship ill?" + +"Oh, of course; very ill, indeed," returned Blanche, suppressing the +scorn she felt. + +Putting the telegram into an envelope, she addressed it to me, called +Sanders, and bade him take it at once to my office. He did so. But I +had also received one to the same effect from Lord Level, who, I +suppose, concluded it best to send to me direct. Telling Sanders I +would call on Lady Level that evening, I thought no more about the +matter, and was glad, rather than otherwise, that the journey to +Marshdale was delayed. This chapter, however, has to do with Blanche, +and not with me. + +Now, whether the step that Lady Level took had its rise in an innocent +remark made by Mrs. Guy, or whether it was the result of her own +indignant feeling, cannot be told. "My dear," said the old lady, "if +my husband were ill, I should go to him all the more." And that was +just what Blanche Level resolved to do. + +The previous arrangement had been that she should drive to my office, +to save me time, pick me up, and so onwards to Victoria Station, to +take the four o'clock train, which would land us at Marshdale in an +hour. + +"My dear, I thought I understood that you were not going to Marshdale; +that the telegram stopped you," said Mrs. Guy, hearing Blanche give +orders for the carriage to be at the door at a quarter past three to +convey her to Victoria, and perceiving also that she was making +preparations for a journey. + +"But I intend to go all the same," replied Blanche. "And look here, +dear Mrs. Guy, Charles has sent me word that he will call here this +evening. When he comes, please give him this little note. You won't +forget?" + +"Not I, child. Major Carlen is always telling me I am silly; but I'm +not silly enough to forget messages." + +The barouche waited at the door at the appointed time, and Lady Level +was driven to Victoria, where she took train for Marshdale. Five +o'clock was striking out from Lower Marshdale Church when she arrived +at Marshdale Station. + +"Get out here, miss?" asked the porter, who saw Lady Level trying to +open the door. + +"Yes." + +"Any luggage?" + +"Only this bag," replied Lady Level. + +The man took charge of it, and she alighted. Traversing the little +roadside station, she looked to where the fly generally stood; but no +fly was there. The station-master waited for her ticket. + +"Is the fly not here?" she inquired. + +"Seems not," answered the master indifferently. But as he spoke he +recognised Lady Level. + +"I beg your pardon, my lady. The fly went off with some passengers who +alighted from the last up-train; it's not back yet." + +"Will it be long, do you know?" + +"Well--I---- James," he called to the porter, "where did the fly go +to?" + +"Over to Dimsdale," replied the man. + +"Then it won't be back for half an hour yet, my lady," said the +station-master to Lady Level. + +"Oh, I can't wait all that time," she returned, rather impatiently. "I +will walk. Will you be good enough to send my bag after me?" + +"I'll send it directly, my lady." + +She was stepping from the little platform when a thought struck her, +and she turned to ask a question of the station-master. "Is it safe to +cross the fields now? I remember it was said not to be so when I was +here last." + +"On account of Farmer Piggot's bull," replied he. "The fields are +quite safe now, my lady; the bull has been taken away." + +Lady Level passed in at the little gate, which stood a few yards down +the road, and was the entrance to the field-way which led to +Marshdale House. It was a warm evening, calm and sunny; not a leaf +stirred; all nature seemed at rest. + +"What will Archibald say to me?" she wondered, her thoughts busy. "He +will fly into a passion, perhaps. I can't help it if he does. I am +determined now to find out why I am kept away from Marshdale and why +he is for ever coming to it. This underhand work has been going on too +long." + +At this moment, a whistle behind her, loud and shrill, caused her to +turn. She was then crossing the first field. In the distance she +espied a boy striding towards her: and soon recognised him for the +surly boy, Sam Doughty. He carried her bag, and vouchsafed her a short +nod as he came up. + +"How are you, Sam?" she asked pleasantly. + +"Didn't think about its being you," was Sam's imperturbable answer, as +he walked on beside her. "When they disturbs me at my tea and says I +must go right off that there same moment with a passenger's bag for +Marshdale House, I took it to be my lord's at least." + +"Did they not let you finish your tea?" said Lady Level with a smile. + +"Catch 'em," retorted Sam, in a tone of resentment. "Catch 'em a +letting me stop for a bite or a sup when there's work to do; no, not +if I was starving for 't. The master, he's a regular stinger for being +down upon a fellow's work, and t'other's a----I say," broke off Mr. +Sam, "did you ever know a rat?--one what keeps ferreting his nose into +everything as don't concern him? Then you've knowed James Runn." + +"James Runn is the porter, I suppose?" said Lady Level, much amused. + +"Well, he is, and the biggest sneak as ever growed. What did he go and +do last week? We had a lot o' passengers to get off by the down train +to Dover, the people from the Grange it were, and a sight o' trunks. +I'd been helping to stow the things in the luggage-van, and the +footman, as he was getting into his second-class carriage, holds out a +shilling, open handed. I'd got my fingers upon it, I had, when that +there James Runn, that rascally porter, clutches hold of it and says +it were meant for him, not for me. I wish he was gone, I do!" + +"The bull is gone, I hear," remarked Lady Level. + +"Oh, he have been gone this long time from here," replied the boy, +shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other. "He took to run at +folks reg'lar, he did; such fun it were to hear 'em squawk! One old +woman in a red shawl he took and tossed. Mr. Drewitt up at the House +interfered then, and told Farmer Piggot the bull must be moved; so the +farmer put him over yonder on t'other side his farm into the two-acre +meadow, which haven't got no right o' way through it. I wish he had +tossed that there James Runn first and done for him!" deliberately +avowed Sam, again shifting his burden. + +"You appear to find that bag heavy," remarked Lady Level. + +"It's not that heavy, so to say," acknowledged the surly boy; "it's +that I be famishing for my tea. Oh, that there Runn's vicious, he +is!--a sending me off when I'd hardly took a mouthful!" + +"Well, I could not carry it myself," she said laughingly. + +"_He_ might ha' brought it; he had swallowed down his own tea, he had. +It's not so much he does--just rushes up to the doors o' the trains +when they comes in, on the look out for what may be give to him, +making believe he's letting folks in and out o' the carriages. I see +my lord give him a shilling t'other day; that I did." + +"When my lord arrived here, do you mean?" + +"No, 'twarn't that day, 'twere another. My lord comes on to the +station asking about a parcel he were expecting of. Mr. Noakes, he +were gone to his dinner, and that there Runn answered my lord that he +had just took the parcel to Marshdale House and left it with Mr. Snow. +Upon which my lord puts his hand in his pocket and gives him a +shilling. I see it." + +Lady Level laughed. It was impossible to help it. Sam's tone was so +intensely wrathful. + +"Do you see much of Lord Level?" she asked. + +"I've not see'd him about for some days. It's said he's ill." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +"Don't know," said Sam. "It were Dr. Hill's young man, Mitcham, I +heard say it. Mother sent me last night to Dr. Hill's for her physic, +and Mr. Mitcham he said he had not been told naught about her physic, +but he'd ask the doctor when he came back from attending upon my Lord +Level." + +"Is your mother ill?" inquired Sam's listener. + +"She be that bad, she be, as to be more fit to be a-bed nor up," +replied the boy: and his voice really took a softer tone as he spoke +of his mother. "It were twins this last time, you see, and there's +such a lot to do for 'em all, mother can't spare a minute in the day +to lie by: and father's wages don't go so fur as they did when there +was less mouths at home." + +"How many brothers and sisters have you?" + +"Five," said Sam, "not counting the twins, which makes seven. I be the +eldest, and I makes eight. And, if ever I does get a shilling or a +sixpence gived me, I takes it right home to mother. I wish them there +two twins had kept away," continued Sam spitefully; "mother had her +hands full without them. Squalling things they both be." + +Thus, listening to the boy's confidences, Lady Level came to the +little green gate which opened to the side of the garden at Marshdale +House. Sam carried the bag to the front door. No one was to be seen. +All things, indoors and out, seemed intensely quiet. + +"You can put it down here, Sam," said Lady Level, producing +half-a-crown. "Will you give this to your mother if I give it to you?" + +"I always gives her everything as is gived to me," returned Sam +resentfully. "I telled ye so." + +Slipping it into his pocket, the boy set off again across the fields. +Lady Level rang the bell gently. Somehow she was not feeling so well +satisfied with herself for having come as she felt when she started. +Deborah opened the door. + +"Oh, my lady!" she exclaimed in surprise, but speaking in a whisper. + +"My bag is outside," said Lady Level, walking forward to the first +sitting-room, the door of which stood open. Mrs. Edwards met her. + +"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the old lady, lifting her hands. "Then Snow +never sent those messages off properly after all! My lady, I am sorry +you should have come." + +"I thought I was expected, Mrs. Edwards, and Mr. Strange with me," +returned Blanche coldly. + +"True, my lady, so you were; but a telegram was sent off this morning +to stop you. Two telegrams went, one to your ladyship and one to Mr. +Strange. It was I gave the order from my lord to Snow, and I thought I +might as well send one also to Mr. Strange, though his lordship said +nothing about it." + +"But why was I stopped?" questioned Blanche. + +"On account of my lord's increased illness," replied Mrs. Edwards. "He +grew much worse in the night; and when Mr. Hill saw how it was with +him this morning, he said your ladyship's visit must be put off. Mr. +Hill is with him now." + +"Of what nature is his illness?" + +"My lady, he has not been very well since he came down. When he got +here we remarked that he seemed low-spirited. In a few days he began +to be feverish, and asked me to get him some lemonade made. Quarts of +it he drank: cook protested there'd be a failure of lemons in the +village. 'It is last year's fever back again,' said his lordship to +me, speaking in jest. But, strange to say, he might as well have +spoken in earnest, for it turns out to be the same sort of fever +precisely." + +"Is he very ill?" + +"He is very ill indeed to-day," answered Mrs. Edwards. "Until this +morning it was thought to be a light attack, no danger attending it, +nor any symptom of delirium. But that has all changed, and this +afternoon he is slightly delirious." + +"Is there--danger?" cried Blanche. + +"Mr. Hill says not, my lady. Not yet, at all events. But--here he is," +broke off Mrs. Edwards, as the doctor's step was heard. "He will be +able to explain more of the illness to your ladyship than I can." + +She left the room as Mr. Hill entered it. The same cheerful, hearty +man that Blanche had known last year, with a fine brow and benevolent +countenance. Blanche shook hands with him, and he sat down near her. + +"So you did not get the telegram," he began, after greeting her. + +"I did get it," answered Blanche, feeling rather ashamed to be obliged +to confess it. "But I--I was ready, and I thought I would come all the +same." + +"It is a pity," said Mr. Hill. "You must not let your husband see you. +Indeed, the best thing you can do will be to go back again." + +"But why?" asked Blanche, turning obstinate. "What have I done to him +that he may not see me?" + +"You don't understand, child," said the surgeon, speaking in his +fatherly way. "His lordship is in a critical state, the disease having +manifested itself with alarming rapidity. If he can be kept perfectly +calm and still, its progress may be arrested and danger averted. If +not, it will assuredly turn to brain-fever and must run its course. +Anything likely to rouse him in the smallest degree, no matter +whether it be pleasure or pain, must be absolutely kept from him. Only +the sight of you might bring on an excitement that might be--well, I +was going to say fatal. That is why I suggested to his lordship to +send off the telegram." + +"You knew I was coming down, then?" said Blanche. + +"My dear, I did know; and---- But, bless me, I ought to apologize to +your ladyship for my familiarity of speech," broke off the kindly +doctor, with a smile. + +Blanche answered by smiling too, and putting her hand into his. + +"I lost a daughter when she was about your age, my dear; you put me in +mind of her; I said so to Mrs. Edwards when you were here last autumn. +She was my only child, and my wife was already gone. Well, well! But +that's beside the present question," he added briskly. "Will you go +back to town, Lady Level?" + +"I would rather remain, now I am here," she answered. "At least, for a +day or two. I will take care not to show myself to Lord Level." + +"Very well," said the doctor, rising. "Do not let him either hear you +or see you. I shall be in again at nine to-night." + +"Who is nursing him?" asked Blanche. + +"Mrs. Edwards. She is the best nurse in the world. Snow, the head +gardener, helps occasionally; he will watch by him to-night; and +Deborah fetches and carries." + +Lady Level took contrition to herself as she sat alone. She had been +mentally accusing her husband of all sorts of things, whilst he was +really lying in peril of his life. Matters and mysteries pertaining to +Marshdale were not cleared up; but--Blanche could not discern any +particular mystery to wage war with just now. + +Tea was served to her, and Blanche would not allow them to think of +dinner. Mrs. Edwards had a room prepared for her in a different +corridor from Lord Level's, so that he would not be in danger of +hearing her voice or footsteps. + +Very lonely felt Blanche when twilight fell, as she sat at the window. +She thought she had never seen trees look so melancholy before, and +she recalled what Charles Strange had always said--that the sight of +trees in the gloaming caused him to be curiously depressed. Presently, +wrapping a blue cloud about her head and shoulders, she strolled out +of doors. + +It was nearly dark now, and the overhanging trees made it darker. +Blanche strolled to the front gate and looked up and down the road. +Not a soul was about; not a sound broke the stillness. The house +behind her was gloomy enough; no light to be seen save the faint one +that burnt in Lord Level's chamber, whose windows faced this way; or a +flash that now and then appeared in the passages from a lamp carried +by someone moving about. + +Blanche walked up and down, now in this path, now in that, now sitting +on a bench to think, under the dark trees. By-and-by, she heard the +front door open and someone come down the path, cross to the side +path, unlock the small door that led into the garden of the East Wing +and enter it. By the very faint light remaining, she thought she +recognised John Snow, the gardener. + +She distinctly heard his footsteps pass up the other garden; she +distinctly heard the front door of the East Wing open to admit him, +and close again. Prompted by idle curiosity, Blanche also approached +the little door in the wall, found it shut, but not locked, opened it, +went in, advanced to where she had full view of the wing, and stood +gazing up at it. Like the other part of the house, it loomed out dark +and gloomy: the upper windows appeared to have outer bars before them; +at least, Blanche thought so. Only in one room was there any light. + +It was in a lower room, a sitting-room, no doubt. The lamp, standing +on the centre table, was bright; the window was thrown up. Beside it +sat someone at work; crochet-work, or knitting, or tatting; something +or other done with the fingers. Mrs. Snow amusing herself, thought +Blanche at first; but in a moment she saw that it was not Mrs. Snow. +The face was dark and handsome, and the black hair was adorned with +black lace. With a sensation as of some mortal agony rushing and +whirling through her veins, Lady Level recognised her. It was Nina, +the Italian. + +Nina, who had been the object of her suspicious jealousy; Nina, who +was, beyond doubt, the attraction that drew her husband to Marshdale; +and who, as she fully believed, had been the one to stab him a year +ago! + +Blanche crept back to her own garden. Finding instinctively the +darkest seat it contained, she sat down upon it with a faint cry of +despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN THE EAST WING. + + +What will not a jealous and angry woman do? On the next morning +(Friday) Blanche Level, believing herself to be more ignominiously +treated than ever wife was yet, despatched a couple of telegrams to +London, both of them slightly incomprehensible. One of the telegrams +was to Charles Strange, the other to Arnold Ravensworth; and both were +to the same effect--they must hasten down to Marshdale to her +"protection" and "rescue." And Mr. Ravensworth was requested to bring +his wife. + +"She will be some little countenance for me; I'm sure I dare not +think how I must be looked upon here," mentally spoke my Lady Level in +her glowing indignation. + +Lord Level was better. When Mr. Hill paid his early visit that Friday +morning, he pronounced him to be very much better; and John Snow said +his lordship had passed a quiet night. "If we can only keep him +tranquil to-day and to-night again, there will be no further danger +from the fever," Mr. Hill then observed to Lady Level. + +The day went on, the reports from the sick-room continuing favourable: +my lord was lying tranquil, his mind clear. My lady, down below, was +anything but tranquil: rather she felt herself in a raging fever. In +the evening, quite late, the two gentlemen arrived from London, not +having been able to come earlier. Mrs. Ravensworth was not with them; +she could not leave her delicate baby. Lady Level had given orders for +chambers to be prepared. + +After they had partaken of refreshments, which brought the time to ten +o'clock, Lady Level opened upon her grievances--past and present. +Modest and reticent though her language still was, she contrived to +convey sundry truths to them. From the early days of her marriage she +had unfortunately had cause to suspect Lord Level of disloyalty to +herself and of barefaced loyalty to another. Her own eyes had seen him +more than once with the girl called Nina at Pisa; had seen him at her +house, sitting side by side with her in her garden smoking and +talking--had heard him address her by her Christian name. This woman, +as she positively knew, had followed Lord Level to England; this woman +was harboured at Marshdale. She was in the house now, in its East +Wing. She, Blanche, had seen her there the previous evening. + +Mr. Ravensworth's severe countenance took a stern expression as he +listened; he believed every word. Charles Strange (I am not speaking +just here in my own person) still thought there might be a mistake +somewhere. He could not readily take up so bad an opinion of Lord +Level, although circumstances did appear to tell against him. His +incredulity irritated Blanche. + +"I will tell you, then, Charles, what I have never disclosed to mortal +man," she flashed forth, in a passionate whisper, bending forward her +pretty face, now growing whiter than death. "You remember that attack +upon Lord Level last autumn. You came down at the time, Arnold----" + +"Yes, yes. What about it?" + +"It was that woman who stabbed him!" + +Neither spoke for a moment. "Nonsense, Blanche!" said Mr. Strange. + +"But I tell you that it was. She was in night-clothes, or something of +that kind, and her black hair was falling about her; but I could not +mistake her Italian face." + +Mr. Ravensworth did not forget Lady Level's curious behaviour at the +time; he had thought then she suspected someone in particular. "Are +you _sure_?" he asked her now. + +"I am sure. And you must both see the danger I may be in whilst +here," she added, with a shiver. "That woman may try to stab me, as +she stabbed him. She must have stabbed him out of jealousy, because +I--her rival--was there." + +"You had better quit the house the first thing in the morning, Lady +Level, and return to London," said Mr. Ravensworth. + +"That I will not do," she promptly answered. "I will not leave +Marshdale until these shameful doings are investigated; and I have +sent for you to act on my behalf and bring them to light. No longer +shall the reproach be perpetually cast upon me by papa and Charles +Strange, that I complain of my husband without cause. It is my turn +now." + +That something must be done, in justice to Lady Level, or at least +attempted, they both saw. But what, or how to set about it, neither of +them knew. They remained in consultation together long after Blanche +had retired to rest. + +"We will go out at daybreak and have a look at the windows of this +East Wing," finally observed Mr. Ravensworth. + +Perhaps that was easier said than done. With the gray light of early +morning they were both out of doors; but they could not find any +entrance to the East Wing. The door in the wall of the front garden +was locked; the entrance gates from the road were locked also. In the +garden at the back--it was more of a wilderness than a garden--they +discovered a small gate in a corner. It was completely overgrown with +trees and shrubs, and had evidently not been used for years and years. +But the wood had become rotten, the fastenings loose; and by their +united strength they opened it. + +They found themselves in a very large space of ground indeed. Grass +was in the middle, quite a field of it; and round it a broad gravel +walk. Encompassing all on three sides rose a wide bank of shrubs and +overhanging trees. Beyond these again was a very high wall. On the +fourth side stood the East Wing, high and gloomy. Its windows were +all encased with iron bars, and the lower windows were whitened. + +Taking a survey of all this, one of them softly whispering in +surprise, Mr. Ravensworth advanced to peer in at the windows. Of +course, being whitened, he had his trouble for his pains. + +"It puts me in mind of a prison," remarked Charles Strange. + +"It puts me in mind of a madhouse," was the laconic rejoinder of Mr. +Ravensworth. + +They passed back through the gate again, Mr. Ravensworth turning to +take a last look. In that minute his eye was attracted to one of the +windows on the ground floor. It opened down the middle, like a French +one, and was being shaken, apparently with a view to opening it--and +if you are well acquainted with continental windows, or windows made +after their fashion, you may remember how long it has taken you to +shake a refractory window before it will obey. It was at length +effected, and in the opening, gazing with a vacant, silly expression +through the close bars, appeared a face. It remained in view but a +moment; the window was immediately closed again, Mr. Ravensworth +thought by another hand. What was the mystery? + +That some mystery did exist at Marshdale, apart from any Italian +ladies who might have no fair right to be there, was pretty evident. +At breakfast the gentlemen related this little experience to Blanche. + +Madame Blanche tossed her head in incredulity. "Don't be taken in," +she answered. "Windows whitened and barred, indeed! It is all done +with a view to misleading people. She was sitting at the _open_ window +at work on Thursday night." + +After breakfast, resolved no longer to be played with, Blanche +proceeded upstairs to Mr. Drewitt's rooms, her friends following her, +all three of them creeping by Lord Level's chamber-door with noiseless +steps. His lordship was getting better quite wonderfully, Mrs. Edwards +had told them. + +The old gentleman, in his quaint costume, was in his sitting-room, +taking his breakfast alone. Mrs. Edwards took her meals anywhere, and +at any time, during her lord's illness. Hearing strange footsteps in +the corridor, he rose to see whose they were, and looked considerably +astonished. + +"Does your ladyship want me?" he asked, bowing. + +"I--yes, I think I do," answered Lady Level. "Who keeps the key of +that door, Mr. Drewitt?" pointing to the strong oaken door at the end +of the passage. + +"I keep it, my lady." + +"Then will you be kind enough to unlock it for me? These gentlemen +wish to examine the East Wing." + +"The East Wing is private to his lordship," was the steward's reply, +addressing them all conjointly. "Without his authority I cannot open +it to anyone." + +They stood contending a little while: it was like a repetition of the +scene that had been enacted there once before; and, like that, was +terminated by the same individual--the surgeon. + +"It is all right, Mr. Drewitt." he said; "you can open the door of the +East Wing; I bear you my lord's orders. I am going in there to see a +patient," he added to the rest. + +The steward produced a key from his pocket, and put it into the lock. +It was surprising that so small a key should open so massive a door. + +They passed, wonderingly, through three rooms _en suite_: a +sitting-room, a bedroom, and a bath-room. All these rooms looked to +the back of the house. Other rooms there were on the same floor, which +the visitors did not touch upon. Descending the staircase, they +entered three similar rooms below. In the smaller one lay some +garden-tools, but of a less size than a grown man in his strength +would use, and by their side were certain toys: tops, hoops, ninepins, +and the like. The middle room was a sitting-room; the larger room +beyond had no furniture, and in that, standing over a humming-top, +which he had just set to spin on the floor, bent the singular figure +of a youth. He had a dark, vacant face, wild black eyes, and a mass of +thick black hair, cut short. This figure, a child's whip in his hand, +was whipping the top, and making a noise with his mouth in imitation +of its hum. + +Half madman, half idiot, he stood out, in all his deep misfortune, +raising himself up and staring about him with a vacant stare. The +expression of Mr. Ravensworth's face changed to one of pity. "Who are +you?" he exclaimed in kindly tones. "What is your name?" + +"Arnie!" was the mechanical answer, for brains and sense seemed to +have little to do with it; and, catching up his top, he backed against +the wall, and burst into a distressing laugh. Distressing to a +listener; not distressing to him, poor fellow. + +"Who is he?" asked Mr. Ravensworth of the doctor. + +"An imbecile." + +"So I see. But what connection has he with Lord Level's family?" + +"He is a connection, or he would not be here." + +"Can he be--be--a son of Lord Level's?" + +"A son!" interposed the steward, "and my lord but just married! No, +sir, he is not a son, he is none so near as that; he is but a +connection of the Level family." + +The lad came forward from the wall where he was standing, and held out +his top to his old friend the doctor. "Do, do," he cried, spluttering +as he spoke. + +"Nay, Arnie, you can set it up better than I: my back won't stoop +well, Arnie." + +"Do, do," was the persistent request, the top held out still. + +Mr. Ravensworth took it and set it up again, he looking on in greedy +eagerness, slobbering and making a noise with his mouth. Then his note +changed to a hum, and he whipped away as before. + +"Why is he not put away in an asylum?" asked Mr. Ravensworth. + +"Put away in an asylum!" retorted the old steward indignantly. "Where +could he be put to have the care and kindness that is bestowed upon +him here? Imbecile though he is, madman though he may be, he is dear +to me and my sister. We pass our lives tending him, in conjunction +with Snow and his wife, doing for him, soothing him: where else could +that be done? You don't know what you are saying, sir. My lord, who +received the charge from his father, comes down to see him: my lord +orders that everything should be done for his comfort. And do you +suppose it is fitting that his condition should be made public? The +fact of one being so afflicted is slur enough upon the race of Level, +without its being proclaimed abroad." + +"It was he who attacked Lord Level last year? + +"Yes, it was; and how he could have escaped to our part of the house +will be a marvel to me for ever. My sister says I could not have +slipped the bolt of the passage door as usual, but I know I did bolt +it. Arnie had been restless that day; he has restless fits; and I +suppose he could not sleep, and must have risen from his bed and come +to my sitting-room. On my table there I had left my pocket-knife, a +new knife, the blades bright and sharp; and this he must have picked +up and opened, and found his way with it to my lord's chamber. Why he +should have attacked him, or anyone else, I know not; he never had a +ferocious fit before." + +"Never," assented Mr. Hill, in confirmation. + +Mr. Drewitt continued: "He has been imbecile and harmless as you see +him now, but he has never disturbed us at night; he has, as I say, +fits of restlessness when he cannot sleep, but he is sufficiently +sensible to ring a bell communicating with Snow's chamber if he wants +anything. If ever he has rung, it has been to say he wants meat." + +"Meat!" + +The steward nodded. "But it has never been given to him. He is cunning +as a fox; they all are; and were we to begin giving him food in the +middle of the night we must continue to do it, or have no peace. +Eating is his one enjoyment in life, and he devours everything set +before him--meat especially. If we have any particular dainty upstairs +for dinner or supper, I generally take him in some. Deborah, I +believe, thinks I eat all that comes up, and sets me down for a +cannibal. He has a hot supper every night. About a year ago we got to +think it might be better for him to have a lighter one, and we tried +it for a week; but he moaned and cried all night long for his hot +meat, and we had to give it him again. The night this happened we had +veal cutlets and bacon, and he had the same. He asked for more, but I +would not give it; perhaps that angered him, and he mistook my lord +for me. Mr. Hill thought it might be so. I shall never be able to +account for it." + +The doctor nodded assent; and the speaker went on: + +"His hair was long then, and he must have looked just like a maniac +when the fit of fury lay upon him. Little wonder that my lady was +frightened at the sight of him. After he had done the deed he ran back +to his own room; I, aroused by the commotion, found him in his bed. He +burst out laughing when he saw me: 'I got your knife, I got your +knife,' he called out, as if it were a feat to be proud of. His +movements must have been silent and stealthy, for Snow had heard +nothing." + +At this moment there occurred an interruption. The Italian lady +approached the room with timid, hesitating steps, and peeped in. "Ah, +how do you do, doctor?" she said in a sweet, gentle voice, as she held +out her hand to Mr. Hill. Her countenance was mild, open, and honest; +and a conviction rushed on the instant into Blanche's mind that she +had been misjudging that foreign lady. + +"These good gentlepeople are come to see our poor patient?" she added, +curtseying to them with native grace, her accent quite foreign. "The +poor, poor boy," tears filling her eyes. "And I foretell that this +must be my lord's wife!" addressing Blanche. "Will she permit a poor +humble stranger to shake her by the hand for her lord's sake--her +lord, who has been so good to us?" + +"This lady is sister to the unfortunate boy's mother," said the +doctor, in low tones to Blanche. "She is a good woman, and worthy to +shake hands with you, my lady." + +"But who was his father?" whispered Blanche. + +"Mr. Francis Level; my lord's dead brother." + +Her countenance radiant, Blanche took the lady's hand and warmly +clasped it. "You live here to take care of the poor lad," she said. + +"But no, madam. I do but come at intervals to see him, all the way +from Pisa, in Italy. And also I have had to come to bring documents +and news to my lord, respecting matters that concern him and the poor +lad. But it is over now," she added. "The week after the one next to +come, Arnie goes back with me to Italy, his native country, and my +journeys to this country will be ended. His mother, who is always ill +and not able to travel, wishes now to have her afflicted son with +her." + +Back in the other house again, after wishing Nina Sparlati good-day, +the astonished visitors gathered in Mr. Drewitt's room to listen to +the tale which had to be told them. Mrs. Edwards, who was awaiting +them, and fonder of talking than her brother, was the principal +narrator. Blanche went away, whispering to Charles Strange that she +would hear it from him afterwards. + +"We were abroad in Italy," Mrs. Edwards began: "it is many years ago. +The late lord, our master then, went for his health, which was +declining, though he was but a middle-aged man, and I and my brother +were with him, his personal attendants, but treated more like friends. +The present lord, Mr. Archibald, named after his father, was with +us--he was the second son, not the heir; the eldest son, Mr. +Level--Francis was his name--had been abroad for years, and was then +in another part of Italy. He came to see his father when we first got +out to Florence, but he soon left again. 'He'll die before my lord,' I +said to Mr. Archibald; for if ever I saw consumption on a man's face, +it was on Mr. Level's. And I remember Mr. Archibald's answer as if it +was but yesterday: 'That's just one of your fancies, nurse: Frank +tells me he has looked the last three years as he looks now.' But I +was right, sir; for shortly after that we received news of the death +of Mr. Level; and then Mr. Archibald was the heir. My lord, who had +grown worse instead of better, was very ill then." + +"Did the late lord die in Italy?" questioned Mr. Ravensworth. + +"You shall hear, sir. He grew very ill, I say, and we thought he +would be sure to move homewards, but he still stayed on. 'Archibald +likes Florence,' he would say, 'and it's all the same to me where I +am.' 'Young Level stops for the _beaux yeux_ of the Tuscan women,' the +world said--but you know, sir, the world always was censorious; and +young men will be young men. However, we were at last on the move; +everything was packed and prepared for leaving, when there arrived an +ill-favoured young woman, with some papers and a little child, two +years old. Its face frightened me when I saw it. It was, as a child, +what it is now as a growing man; and you have seen it today," she +added in a whisper. "'What is the matter with him?' I asked, for I +could speak a little Italian. 'He's a born natural, as yet,' she +answered, 'but the doctors think he may outgrow it in part.' 'But who +is he? what does he do here?' I said. 'He's the son of Mr. Level,' she +replied, 'and I have brought him to the family, for his mother, who +was my sister, is also dead.' 'He the son of Mr. Level!' I uttered, +knowing she must speak of Mr. Francis. 'Well, you need not bring him +here: we English do not recognise chance children.' 'They were married +three years ago,' she coolly answered, 'and I have brought the papers +to prove it. Mr. Level was a gentleman and my sister not much above a +peasant; but she was beautiful and good, and he married her, and this +is their child. She has been dying by inches since her husband died; +she is now dead, and I am come here to give up the child to his +father's people." + +"Was it true?" interrupted Mr. Strange. + +"My lord thought so, sir, and took kindly to the child. He was brought +home here, and the East Wing was made his nursery----" + +"Then that--that--poor wretch down there is the true Lord Level!" +interrupted Mr. Ravensworth. + +"One day, when my lord was studying the documents the woman had left," +resumed Mrs. Edwards, passing by the remark with a glance, "something +curious struck him in the certificate of marriage; he thought it was +forged. He showed it to Mr. Archibald, and they decided to go back to +Italy, leaving the child here. All the inquiries they made there +tended to prove that, though the child was indeed Mr. Francis Level's, +there had been no marriage, or semblance of one. All the same, said my +lord, the poor child shall be kindly reared and treated and provided +for: and Mr. Archibald solemnly promised his father it should be so. +My lord died at Florence, and Mr. Archibald came back Lord Level." + +"And he never forgot his promise to his father," interposed the +steward, "but has treated the child almost as though he were a true +son, consistent with his imbecile state. That East Wing has been his +happy home, as Mr. Hill can testify: he has toys to amuse him, the +garden to dig in, which is his favourite pastime; and Snow draws him +about the paths in his hand-carriage on fine days. It is a sad +misfortune, for him and for the family; but my lord has done his +best." + +"It would have been a greater for my lord had the marriage been a +legal one," remarked Mr. Ravensworth. + +"I don't know that," sharply spoke up the doctor. "As an idiot I +believe he could not inherit. However, the marriage was not a legal +one, and my lord is my lord. The mother is not dead; that was a +fabrication also; but she is ill, helpless, and is pining for her son; +so now he is to be taken to her; my lord, in his generosity, securing +him an ample income. It was not the mother who perpetrated the fraud, +but the avaricious eldest sister. This sister, the one you have just +seen, is the youngest; she is good and honourable, and has done her +best to unravel the plot." + +That was all the explanation given to Mr. Ravensworth. But the doctor +put his arm within that of Charles Strange, and took him into the +presence of Lord Level. + +"Well," said his lordship, who was then sitting up in bed, and held +out his hand, "have you been hearing all about the mysteries, +Charles?" + +"Yes," smiled Mr. Strange. "I felt sure that whatever the mystery +might be, it was one you could safely explain away if you chose." + +"Ay: though Blanche did take up the other view and want to cut my head +off." + +"She was your own wife, your _loving_ wife, I am certain: why not have +told her?" + +"Because I wanted to be quite sure of certain things first," replied +Lord Level. "Listen, Charles: you have my tale to hear yet. Sit down. +Sit down, Hill. How am I to talk while you stand?" he asked, laughing. + +"When we were in Paris after our marriage a year ago, I received two +shocks on one and the same morning," began Lord Level. "The one told +me of the trouble Tom Heriot had fallen into; the other, contained in +a letter from Pisa, informed me that there _had been a marriage_ after +all between my brother and that girl, Bianca Sparlati. If so, of +course, that imbecile lad stood between me and the title and estate; +though I don't think he could legally inherit. But I did not believe +the information. I felt sure that it was another invented artifice of +Annetta, the wretched eldest sister, who is a grasping intriguante. I +started at once for Pisa, where they live, to make inquiries in +person: travelling by all sorts of routes, unfrequented by the +English, that my wife might not hear of her brother's disgrace. At +Pisa I found difficulties: statements met me that seemed to prove +there had been a marriage, and I did not see my way to disprove them. +Nina, a brave, honest girl, confessed to me that she doubted them, and +I begged of her, for truth and right's sake, to help me as far as she +could. I cannot enter into details now, Strange; I am not strong +enough for it; enough to say that ever since, nearly a whole year, +have I been trying to ferret out the truth: and I only got at it a +week ago." + +"And there was no marriage?" + +"Tell him, Hill," said Lord Level, laughing. + +"Well, a sort of ceremony did pass between Francis Level and that +young woman, but both of them knew at the time it was not legal, or +one that could ever stand good," said the doctor. "Now the real facts +have come to light. It seems that Bianca had been married when very +young to a sailor named Dromio; within a month of the wedding he +sailed away again and did not return. She thought him dead, took up +her own name again and went home to her family; and later became +acquainted with Francis Level. Now, the sailor has turned up again, +alive and well----" + +"The first husband!" exclaimed Charles Strange. + +"If you like to call him so," said Mr. Hill; "there was never a +second. Well, the sailor has come to the fore again; and +honest-hearted Nina travelled here from Pisa with the news, and we +sent for his lordship to come down and hear it. He was also wanted +for another matter. The boy had had a sort of fit, and I feared he +would die. My lord heard what Nina had to tell him when he arrived; he +did not return at once to London, for Arnie was still in danger, and +he waited to see the issue. Very shortly he was taken ill himself, and +could not get away. It was good news, though, about that resuscitated +sailor!" laughed the doctor, after a pause. "All's well that ends +well, and my Lord Level is his own man again." + +Charles Strange sought an interview with his sister--as he often +called her--and imparted to her these particulars. He then left at +once for London with Mr. Ravensworth. Their mission at Marshdale was +over. + + * * * * * + +Lord Level, up and dressed, lay on a sofa in his bedroom in the +afternoon. Blanche sat on a footstool beside him. Her face was hidden +upon her husband's knee and she was crying bitter tears. + +"Shall you ever forgive me, Archibald?" + +He was smiling quietly. "Some husbands might say no." + +"You don't know how miserable I have been." + +"Don't I! But how came you to fall into such notions at first, +Blanche? To suspect me of ill at all?" + +"It was that Mrs. Page Reid who was with us at Pisa. She said all +sorts of things." + +"Ah!" + +"_Won't_ you forgive me, Archibald?" + +"Yes, upon condition that you trust me fully in future. Will you, +love?" he softly whispered. + +She could not speak for emotion. + +"And the next time you have a private grievance against me, Blanche, +tell it out plainly," he said, as he held her to him and gave her kiss +for kiss. + +"My darling, yes. But I shall never have another." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CONCLUSION. + + +I, Charles Strange, took up this story at its commencement, and I take +it up now at its close. + + * * * * * + +It was a lovely day at the end of summer, in the year following the +events recorded in the last chapter, and we were again at Marshdale +House. + +The two individuals who had chiefly marred the peace of one or another +of us in the past were both gone where disturbance is not. Poor Tom +Heriot was mouldering in his grave near to that in which his father +and mother lay, not having been discovered by the police or molested +in any way; and the afflicted Italian lad had died soon after he was +taken to his native land. Mr. Hill had warned Nina Sparlati that, in +all probability, he would not live long. Mrs. Brightman, I may as well +say it here, had recovered permanently; recovered in all ways, as we +hoped and believed. The long restraint laid upon her by her illness +had effected the cure that nothing else might have been able to +effect, and re-established the good habits she had lost. But Miss +Brightman was dead; she had not lived to come home from Madeira, and +the whole of her fortune was left to Annabel. "So you can live where +you please now and go in for grandeur," Arthur Lake said to me and my +wife. "All in good time," laughed Annabel; "I am not yet tired of +Essex Street." + +And now we had come down in the sunny August weather when the courts +were up, to stay at Marshdale. + +You might be slow to recognise it, though. Recalling the picture of +Marshdale House as it was, and looking at it now, many would have said +it could not be the same. + +The dreary old structure had been converted into a light and beautiful +mansion. The whitened windows with their iron bars were no more. The +disfiguring, unnaturally-high walls were gone, and the tangled shrubs +and weeds, the overgrowth of trees that had made the surrounding land +a wilderness, were now turned into lovely pleasure-grounds. The gloomy +days had given place to sunny ones, said Lord Level, and the gloomy +old structure, with its gloomy secrets, should be remembered no more. + +Marshdale was now their chief home, his and his wife's, with their +establishment of servants. Mr. Drewitt and Mrs. Edwards had moved into +a pretty dwelling hard by; but they were welcomed whenever they liked +to go to the house, and were treated as friends. The steward kept the +accounts still, and Mrs. Edwards was appealed to by Blanche in all +domestic difficulties. She rarely appeared before her lady but in her +quaint gala attire. + +We were taking tea out of doors at the back of the renovated East +Wing. The air bore that Sabbath stillness which Sunday seems to bring: +distant bells, ringing the congregation out of church, fell +melodiously on the ear. We had been idle this afternoon and stayed at +home, but all had attended service in the morning. Mr. Hill had called +in and was sitting with us. Annabel presided at the rustic tea-table; +Blanche was a great deal too much occupied with her baby-boy, whom she +had chosen to have brought out: a lively young gentleman in a blue +sash, whose face greatly resembled his father's. Next to Lord Level +sat my uncle, who had come down for a week's rest. He was no longer +Serjeant Stillingfar; but Sir Charles, and one of her Majesty's +judges. + +"Won't you have some tea, my dear?" he said to Blanche, who was +parading the baby. + +By the way, they had named him Charles. Charles Archibald; to be +called by the former name: Lord Level protested he would not have +people saying Young Archie and Old Archie. + +"Yes, Blanche," said he, taking up the suggestion of the judge. "Do +let that child go indoors: one might think he was a new toy. Here, +I'll take him." + +"Archibald need not talk," laughed Blanche, looking after her husband, +who had taken the child from her and was tossing it as he went +indoors. "He is just as fond of having the baby as I am. Neither need +you laugh, Mr. Charles," turning upon me; "your turn will come soon, +you know." + +Leaving the child in its nursery in the East Wing, Lord Level came +back to his place; and we sat on until evening approached. A peaceful +evening, promising a glorious sunset. An hour after midday, when we +had just got safely in from church, there had been a storm of thunder +and lightning, and it had cleared the sultry air. The blue sky above, +flecked with gold, was of a lovely rose colour towards the west. + +"The day has been a type of life: or of what life ought to be," +suddenly remarked Mr. Hill. "Storm and cloud succeeded by peace and +sunshine." + +"The end is not always peaceful," said Lord Level. + +"It mostly is when we have worked on for it patiently," said the +judge. "My friends, you may take the word of an old man for it--that a +life of storm and trouble, through which we have struggled manfully to +do our duty under God, ever bearing on in reliance upon Him, must of +necessity end in peace. Perhaps not always perfect and entire peace in +this world; but assuredly in that which is to come." + +THE END. + + +BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. + +_S. & H._ + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + +Inconsistent and archaic spelling retained. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange, Vol. 3 +(of 3), by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + +***** This file should be named 38625-8.txt or 38625-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/6/2/38625/ + +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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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. 3 (of 3) + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: January 20, 2012 [EBook #38625] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 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="626" 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. III.</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/i002a.jpg" width="400" height="115" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2>CONTENTS OF VOL. III.</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td> </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">ON THE WATCH</a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">TOM HERIOT</a></td> + <td class="tdr">29</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">AN EVENING VISITOR</a></td> + <td class="tdr">46</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">RESTITUTION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">64</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CONFESSION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">92</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">DANGER</a></td> + <td class="tdr">117</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">WITH MR. JONES</a></td> + <td class="tdr">136</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">AN ACCIDENT</a></td> + <td class="tdr">165</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">LAST DAYS</a></td> + <td class="tdr">185</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">LAST WORDS</a></td> + <td class="tdr">203</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">DOWN AT MARSHDALE</a></td> + <td class="tdr">226</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">IN THE EAST WING</a></td> + <td class="tdr">249</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CONCLUSION</a></td> + <td class="tdr">260</td> +</tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i002b.jpg" width="150" height="170" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i003a.jpg" width="400" height="114" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE.</h2> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="h3">ON THE WATCH.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-m.jpg" width="80" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">M</span>R. SERJEANT STILLINGFAR</b> sat at dinner in his house in Russell Square +one Sunday afternoon. A great cause, in which he was to lead, had +brought him up from circuit, to which he would return when the Nisi +Prius trial was over. The cloth was being removed when I entered. He +received me with his usual kindly welcome.</p> + +<p>"Why not have come to dinner, Charles?<span class="pagenum">[2]</span> Just had it, you say? All the +more reason why we might have had it together. Sit down, and help +yourself to wine."</p> + +<p>Declining the wine, I drew my chair near to his, and told him what I +had come about.</p> + +<p>A few days had gone on since the last chapter. With the trouble +connected with Mrs. Brightman, and the trouble connected with Tom +Heriot, I had enough on my mind at that time, if not upon my +shoulders. As regarded Mrs. Brightman, no one could help me; but +regarding the other——</p> + +<p>Was Tom in London, or was he not? How was I to find out? I had again +gone prowling about the book-stall and its environs, and had seen no +trace of him. Had Leah really seen him, or only some other man who +resembled him?</p> + +<p>Again I questioned Leah. Her opinion was not to be shaken. She held +emphatically to her assertion. It was Tom that she had seen, and none +other.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[3]</span></p> + +<p>"You may have seen some other sailor, sir; I don't say to the +contrary; but the sailor I saw was Captain Heriot," she reiterated. +"Suppose I go again to-night, sir? I may, perhaps, have the good luck +to see him."</p> + +<p>"Should you call it good luck, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"Ah well, sir, you know what I mean," she answered. "Shall I go +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"No, Leah; I am going myself. I cannot rest in this uncertainty."</p> + +<p>Rest! I felt more like a troubled spirit or a wandering ghost. Arthur +Lake asked what had gone wrong with me, and where I disappeared to of +an evening.</p> + +<p>Once more I turned out in discarded clothes to saunter about Lambeth. +It was Saturday night and the thoroughfares were crowded; but amidst +all who came and went I saw no trace of Tom.</p> + +<p>Worried, disheartened, I determined to carry the perplexity to my +Uncle Stillingfar. That he was true as steel, full of loving-kindness +to all the world, no matter what<span class="pagenum">[4]</span> their errors, and that he would aid +me with his counsel—if any counsel could avail—I well knew. And thus +I found myself at his house on that Sunday afternoon. Of course he had +heard about the escape of the convicts; had seen Tom's name in the +list; but he did not know that he was suspected of having reached +London. I told him of what Leah had seen, and added the little episode +about "Miss Betsy."</p> + +<p>"And now, what can be done, Uncle Stillingfar? I have come to ask +you."</p> + +<p>His kindly blue eyes became thoughtful whilst he pondered the +question. "Indeed, Charles, I know not," he answered. "Either you must +wait in patience until he turns up some fine day—as he is sure to do +if he is in London—or you must quietly pursue your search for him, +and smuggle him away when you have found him."</p> + +<p>"But if I don't find him? Do you think it could be Tom that Leah saw? +Is it possible that he can be in London?"</p> + +<p>"Quite possible. If a homeward vessel,<span class="pagenum">[5]</span> bound, it may be, for the port +of London, picked them up, what more likely than that he is here? +Again, who else would call himself Charles Strange, and pass himself +off for you? Though I cannot see his motive for doing it."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know any man so recklessly imprudent, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I have never known any man so reckless as Tom Heriot. You must do +your best to find him, Charles."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how. I thought you might possibly have suggested some +plan. Every day increases his danger."</p> + +<p>"It does: and the chances of his being recognised."</p> + +<p>"It seems useless to search further in Lambeth: he must have changed +his quarters. And to look about London for him will be like looking +for a needle in a bottle of hay. I suppose," I slowly added, "it would +not do to employ a detective?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you wish to put him into the lion's mouth," said the +Serjeant. "Why,<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> Charles, it would be his business to retake him. Rely +upon it, the police are now looking for him if they have the slightest +suspicion that he is here."</p> + +<p>At that time one or two private detectives had started in business on +their own account, having nothing to do with the police: now they have +sprung up in numbers. It was to these I alluded.</p> + +<p>Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. "I would not trust one of them, +Charles: it would be too dangerous an experiment. No; what you do, you +must do yourself. Once let Government get scent that he is here, and +we shall probably find the walls placarded with a reward for his +apprehension."</p> + +<p>"One thing I am surprised at," I said as I rose to leave: "that if he +is here, he should not have let me know it. What can he be doing for +money? An escaped convict is not likely to have much of that about +him."</p> + +<p>Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. "There are points about the +affair that I<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> cannot fathom, Charles. Talking of money—you are +well-off now, but if more than you can spare should be needed to get +Tom Heriot away, apply to me."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, uncle; but I don't think it will be needed. Where would +you recommend him to escape to?"</p> + +<p>"Find him first," was the Serjeant's answer.</p> + +<p>He accompanied me himself to the front door. As we stood, speaking a +last word, a middle-aged man, with keen eyes and spare frame, dressed +as a workman, came up with a brisk step. Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar met +the smile on the man's face as he glanced up in passing.</p> + +<p>"Arkwright!" he exclaimed. "I hardly knew you. Some sharp case in +hand, I conclude?"</p> + +<p>"Just so, Serjeant; but I hope to bring it to earth before the day's +over. You know——"</p> + +<p>Then the man glanced at me and came to a pause.</p> + +<p>"However, I mustn't talk about it now,<span class="pagenum">[8]</span> so good-afternoon, Serjeant." +And thus speaking, he walked briskly onwards.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he has in hand? I think he would have told me, Charles, +but for your being present," cried my uncle, looking after him. "A +keen man is Arkwright."</p> + +<p>"<i>Arkwright!</i>" I echoed, the name now impressing itself upon me. +"Surely not Arkwright the famous detective!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. And he has evidently got himself up as a workman to +further some case that he has in hand. He knew you, Charles; depend +upon that; though you did not know him."</p> + +<p>A fear, perhaps a foolish one, fell upon me. "Uncle Stillingfar," I +breathed, "can his case be <i>Tom's</i>? Think you it is he who is being +run to earth?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. That is not likely," he answered, after a moment's +consideration. "Anyway, you must use every exertion to find him, for +his stay in London is full of danger."</p> + +<p>It will readily be believed that this incident<span class="pagenum">[9]</span> had not added to my +peace of mind. One more visit I decided to pay to the old ground in +Lambeth, and after that—why, in truth, whether to turn east, west, +north or south, I knew no more than the dead.</p> + +<p>Monday was bright and frosty; Monday evening clear, cold and +starlight. The gaslights flared away in the streets and shops; the +roads were lined with wayfarers.</p> + +<p>Sauntering down the narrow pavement on the opposite side of the way, +in the purposeless manner that a hopeless man favours, I approached +the book-stall. A sailor was standing before it, his head bent over +the volumes. Every pulse within me went up to fever heat: for there +was that in him that reminded me of Tom Heriot.</p> + +<p>I crossed quietly to the stall, stood side by side with him, and took +up a handful of penny dreadfuls. Yes, it was he—Tom Heriot.</p> + +<p>"Tom," I cried softly. "Tom!"</p> + +<p>I felt the start he gave. But he did not move hand or foot; only his +eyes turned to scan me.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[10]</span></p> + +<p>"Tom," I whispered again, apparently intent upon a grand picture of a +castle in flames, and a gentleman miraculously escaping with a lady +from an attic window. "Tom, don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake don't speak to me, Charley!" he breathed in +answer, the words barely audible. "Go away, for the love of heaven! +I've been a prisoner here for the last three minutes. That policeman +yonder would know me, and I dare not turn. His name's Wren."</p> + +<p>Three doors off, a policeman was standing at the edge of the pavement, +facing the shops, as if waiting to pounce upon someone he was +expecting to pass. Even as Tom spoke, he wheeled round to the right, +and marched up the street. Tom as quickly disappeared to the left, +leaving a few words in my ear.</p> + +<p>"I'll wait for you at the other end, Charley; it is darker there than +here. Don't follow me immediately."</p> + +<p>So I remained where I was, still bending<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> an enraptured gaze upon the +burning castle and the gallant knight and damsel escaping from it at +their peril.</p> + +<p>"Betsy says the account comes to seven shillings, Mr. Strange."</p> + +<p>The address gave me almost as great a thrill as the sight of Tom had +done. It came from the man Lee, now emerging from his shop. +Involuntarily I pulled my hat lower upon my brow. He looked up and +down the street.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg pardon—thought Mr. Strange was standing here," he said. +And then I saw my error. He had not spoken to me, but to Tom Heriot. +My gaze was still fascinated by the flaming picture.</p> + +<p>"Anything you'd like this evening, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take this sheet—half a dozen of them," I said, putting down +sixpence.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir. A fine night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very. Were you speaking to the sailor who stood here?" I added +carelessly "He went off in that direction, I think,"<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> pointing to the +one opposite to that Tom had taken.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the man; "'twas Mr. Strange. He had asked me to look +how much his score was for tobacco. I dare say he'll be back +presently. Captain Strange, by rights," added Lee chattily.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Captain of a vessel?"</p> + +<p>"Of his own vessel—a yacht. Not but what he has been about the world +in vessels of all sorts, he tells us; one voyage before the mast, the +next right up next to the skipper. But for them ups and downs where, +as he says, would sailors find their experience?"</p> + +<p>"Very true. Well, this is all I want just now. Good-evening."</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, sir," replied Caleb Lee.</p> + +<p>The end of the street to which Tom had pointed was destitute of shops; +the houses were small and poor; consequently, it was tolerably dark. +Tom was sauntering along, smoking a short pipe.</p> + +<p>"Is there any place at hand where we<span class="pagenum">[13]</span> can have a few words together in +tolerable security?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Come along," briefly responded Tom. "You walk on the other side of +the street, old fellow; keep me in view."</p> + +<p>It was good advice, and I took it. He increased his pace to a brisk +walk, and presently turned down a narrow passage, which brought him to +a sort of small, triangular green, planted with shrubs and trees. I +followed, and we sat down on one of the benches.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite mad, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Not mad a bit," laughed Tom. "I say, Charley, did you come to that +book-stall to look after me?"</p> + +<p>"Ay. And it's about the tenth time I have been there."</p> + +<p>"How the dickens did you find me out?"</p> + +<p>"Chance one evening took Leah into the neighbourhood, and she happened +to see you. I had feared you might be in England."</p> + +<p>"You had heard of the wreck of the <i>Vengeance</i>, I suppose; and that a +few of us<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> had escaped. Good old Leah! Did I give her a fright?"</p> + +<p>We were sitting side by side. Tom had put his pipe out, lest the light +should catch the sight of any passing stragglers. We spoke in +whispers. It was, perhaps, as safe a place as could be found; +nevertheless, I sat upon thorns.</p> + +<p>Not so Tom. By the few signs that might be gathered—his light voice, +his gay laugh, his careless manner—Tom felt as happy and secure as if +he had been attending one of her Majesty's levées, in the full glory +of scarlet coat and flashing sword-blade.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Tom, you have half killed me with terror and +apprehension? How could you be so reckless as to come back to London?"</p> + +<p>"Because the old ship brought me," lightly returned Tom.</p> + +<p>"I suppose a vessel picked you up—and the comrades who escaped with +you?"</p> + +<p>"It picked two of us up. The other three died."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[15]</span></p> + +<p>"What, in the boat?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "In the open boat at sea."</p> + +<p>"How did you manage to escape? I thought convicts were too well looked +after."</p> + +<p>"So they are, under ordinary circumstances. Shipwrecks form the +exception. I'll give you the history, Charley."</p> + +<p>"Make it brief, then. I am upon thorns."</p> + +<p>Tom laughed, and began:</p> + +<p>"We were started on that blessed voyage, a cargo of men in irons, and +for some time made a fair passage, and thought we must be nearing the +other side. Such a crew, that cargo, Charles! Such an awful lot! +Villainous wretches, who wore their guilt on their faces, and suffered +their deserts; half demons, most of them. A few amongst them were no +doubt like me, innocent enough; wrongfully accused and condemned——"</p> + +<p>"But go on with the narrative, Tom."</p> + +<p>"I swear I was innocent," he cried, with emotion, heedless of my +interruption. "I was wickedly careless, I admit that, but the<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> guilt +was another's, not mine. When I put those bills into circulation, +Charles, I knew no more they were forged than you did. Don't you +believe me?"</p> + +<p>"I do believe you. I have believed you throughout."</p> + +<p>"And if the trial had not been hurried on I think it could have been +proved. It was hurried on, Charles, and when it was on it was hurried +over. I am suffering unjustly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Tom. But won't you go on with your story?"</p> + +<p>"Where was I? Oh, about the voyage and the shipwreck. After getting +out of the south-east trades, we had a fortnight's light winds and +calms, and then got into a steady westerly wind, before which we ran +quietly for some days. One dark night, it was the fifteenth of +November, and thick, drizzling weather, the wind about north-west, we +had turned in and were in our first sleep, when a tremendous uproar +arose on deck; the watch shouting and tramping, the<span class="pagenum">[17]</span> officers' orders +and the boatswain's mate's shrill piping rising above the din. One +might have thought Old Nick had leaped on board and was giving chase. +Next came distinctly that fearful cry, 'All hands save ship!' Sails +were being clewed up, yards were being swung round. Before we could +realize what it all meant, the ship had run ashore; and there she +stuck, bumping as if she would knock her bottom out."</p> + +<p>"Get on, Tom," I whispered, for he had paused, and seemed to be +spinning a long yarn instead of a short one.</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, the ship soon made a sort of cradle for herself in the +sand, and lay on her starboard bilge. To attempt to get her off was +hopeless. So they got us all out of the ship and on shore, and put us +under tents made of the sails. The skipper made out, or thought he +made out, the island to be that of Tristan d'Acunha: whether it was or +not I can't say positively. At first we thought it was uninhabited, +but it turned out to have a few natives on it, sixty or<span class="pagenum">[18]</span> eighty in +all. In the course of a few days every movable thing had been landed. +All the boats were intact, and were moored in a sort of creek, or +small natural harbour, their gear, sails and oars in them."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" I breathed, "or you are lost!"</p> + +<p>A policeman's bull's-eye was suddenly turned upon the grass. By the +man's size, I knew him for Tom's friend, Wren. We sat motionless. The +light just escaped us, and the man passed on. But we had been in +danger.</p> + +<p>"If you would only be quicker, Tom. I don't want to know about boats +and their gear."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "How impatient you are, Charles! Well, to get on ahead. A +cargo of convicts cannot be kept as securely under such circumstances +as had befallen us as they could be in a ship's hold, and the +surveillance exercised was surprisingly lax. Two or three of the +prisoners were meditating an escape, and thought they saw their way to +effecting<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> it by means of one of the boats. I found this out, and +joined the party. But there were almost insurmountable difficulties in +the way. It was absolutely necessary that we should put on ordinary +clothes—for what vessel, picking us up, but would have delivered us +up at the first port it touched at, had we been in convict dress? We +marked the purser's slop-chest, which was under a tent, and well +filled, and——"</p> + +<p>"Do get on, Tom!"</p> + +<p>"Here goes, then! One calm, but dark night, when other people were +sleeping, we stole down to the creek, five of us, rigged ourselves out +in the purser's toggery, leaving the Government uniforms in exchange, +unmoored one of the cutters, and got quietly away. We had secreted +some bread and salt meat; water there had been already on board. The +wind was off the land, and we let the boat drift before it a bit +before attempting to make sail. By daylight we were far enough from +the island; no chance of their seeing us—a speck on the waters.<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> The +wind, hitherto south, had backed to the westward. We shaped a course +by the sun to the eastward, and sailed along at the rate of five or +six knots. My comrades were not as rough as they might have been; +rather decent fellows for convicts. Two of them were from Essex; had +been sentenced for poaching only. Now began our lookout: constantly +straining our eyes along the horizon for a sail, but especially astern +for an outward-bounder, but only saw one or two in the distance that +did not see us. What I underwent in that boat as day after day passed, +and no sail appeared, I won't enter upon now, old fellow. The +provisions were exhausted, and so was the water. One by one three of +my companions went crazy and died. The survivor and I had consigned +the last of them to the deep on the twelfth day, and then I thought my +turn had come; but Markham was worse than I was. How many hours went +on, I knew not. I lay at the bottom of the boat, exhausted and half +unconscious, when suddenly I heard voices.<span class="pagenum">[21]</span> I imagined it to be a +dream. But in a few minutes a boat was alongside the cutter, and two +of its crew had stepped over and were raising me up. They spoke to me, +but I was too weak to understand or answer; in fact, I was delirious. +I and Markham were taken on board and put to bed. After some days, +passed in a sort of dreamy, happy delirium, well cared for and +attended to, I woke up to the realities of life. Markham was dead: he +had never revived, and died of exposure and weakness some hours after +the rescue."</p> + +<p>"What vessel had picked you up?"</p> + +<p>"It was the <i>Discovery</i>, a whaler belonging to Whitby, and homeward +bound. The captain, Van Hoppe, was Dutch by birth, but had been reared +in England and had always sailed in English ships. A good and kind +fellow, if ever there was one. Of course, I had to make my tale good +and suppress the truth. The passenger-ship in which I was sailing to +Australia to seek my fortune had foundered in mid-ocean, and<span class="pagenum">[22]</span> those +who escaped with me had died of their sufferings. That was true so +far. Captain Van Hoppe took up my misfortunes warmly. Had he been my +own brother—had he been <i>you</i>, Charley—he could not have treated me +better or cared for me more. The vessel had a prosperous run home. She +was bound for the port of London; and when I put my hand into Van +Hoppe's at parting, and tried to thank him for his goodness, he left a +twenty-pound note in it. 'You'll need it, Mr. Strange,' he said; 'you +can repay me when your fortune's made and you are rich.'"</p> + +<p>"<i>Strange!</i>" I cried.</p> + +<p>Tom laughed.</p> + +<p>"I called myself 'Strange' on the whaler. Don't know that it was wise +of me. One day when I was getting better and lay deep in +thought—which just then chanced to be of you, Charley—the mate +suddenly asked me what my name was. 'Strange,' I answered, on the spur +of the moment. That's how it was. And that's the brief history of my +escape."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p> + +<p>"You have had money, then, for your wants since you landed," I +remarked.</p> + +<p>"I have had the twenty pounds. It's coming to an end now."</p> + +<p>"You ought not to have come to London. You should have got the captain +to put you ashore somewhere, and then made your escape from England."</p> + +<p>"All very fine to talk, Charley! I had not a sixpence in my pocket, or +any idea that he was going to help me. I could only come on as far as +the vessel would bring me."</p> + +<p>"And suppose he had not given you money—what then?"</p> + +<p>"Then I must have contrived to let you know that I was home again, and +borrowed from you," he lightly replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, your being here is frightfully dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. As long as the police don't suspect I am in England, +they won't look after me. It's true that a few of them might know me, +but I do not think they would in this guise and with my altered +face."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[24]</span></p> + +<p>"You were afraid of one to-night."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>he</i> is especially one who might know me; and he stood there so +long that I began to think he might be watching me. Anyway, I've been +on shore these three weeks, and nothing has come of it yet."</p> + +<p>"What about that young lady named Betsy? Miss Betsy Lee."</p> + +<p>Tom threw himself back in a fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"I hear the old fellow went down to Essex Street one night to +ascertain whether I lived there! The girl asked me one day where I +lived, and I rapped out Essex Street."</p> + +<p>"But, Tom, what have you to do with the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing; nothing. On my honour. I have often been in the shop, +sometimes of an evening. The father has invited me to some grog in the +parlour behind it, and I have sat there for an hour chatting with him +and the girl. That's all. She is a well-behaved, modest little girl; +none better."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> + +<p>"Well, Tom, with one imprudence and another, you stand a fair +chance——"</p> + +<p>"There, there! Don't preach, Charley. What you call imprudence, I call +fun."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of doing? To remain on here for ever in this +disguise?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't, I expect, if I wanted to. I must soon see about getting +away."</p> + +<p>"You must get away at once."</p> + +<p>"I am not going yet, Charley; take my word for that; and I am as safe +in London, I reckon, as I should be elsewhere. Don't say but I may +have to clear out of this particular locality. If that burly policeman +is going to make a permanent beat of it about here, he might drop upon +me some fine evening."</p> + +<p>"And you must exchange your sailor's disguise, as you call it, for a +better one."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. That rough old coat you have on, Charley, might not come +amiss to me."</p> + +<p>"You can have it. Why do you fear<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> that policeman should know you, +more than any other?"</p> + +<p>"He was present at the trial last August. Was staring me in the face +most of the day. His name's Wren."</p> + +<p>I sighed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tom, it is getting late; we have sat here as long as is +consistent with safety," I said, rising.</p> + +<p>He made me sit down again.</p> + +<p>"The later the safer, perhaps, Charley. When shall we meet again?"</p> + +<p>"Ay; when, and where?"</p> + +<p>"Come to-morrow evening, to this same spot. It is as good a one as any +I know of. I shall remain indoors all day tomorrow. Of course one does +not care to run needlessly into danger. Shall you find your way to +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and will be here; but I shall go now. Do be cautious, Tom. Do +you want any money? I have brought some with me."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks, old fellow; I've enough<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> to go on with for a day or two. +How is Blanche? Did she nearly die of the disgrace?"</p> + +<p>"She did not know of it. Does not know it yet."</p> + +<p>"No!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, how can it have been kept +from her? She does not live in a wood."</p> + +<p>"Level has managed it, somehow. She was abroad during the trial, you +know. They have chiefly lived there since, Blanche seeing no English +newspapers; and, of course, her acquaintances do not gratuitously +speak to her about it. But I don't think it can be kept from her much +longer."</p> + +<p>"But where does she think I am—all this time?"</p> + +<p>"She thinks you are in India with the regiment."</p> + +<p>"I suppose <i>he</i> was in a fine way about it!"</p> + +<p>"Level? Yes—naturally; and is still. He would have saved you, Tom, at +any cost."</p> + +<p>"As you would, and one or two more<span class="pagenum">[28]</span> good friends; but, you see, I did +not know what was coming upon me in time to ask them. It fell upon my +head like a thunderbolt. Level is not a bad fellow at bottom."</p> + +<p>"He is a downright good one—at least, that's my opinion of him."</p> + +<p>We stood hand locked in hand at parting. "Where are you staying?" I +whispered.</p> + +<p>"Not far off. I've a lodging in the neighbourhood—one room."</p> + +<p>"Fare you well, then, until to-morrow evening."</p> + +<p>"Au revoir, Charley."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="150" height="148" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[29]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i005a.jpg" width="400" height="111" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="h3">TOM HERIOT.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-i.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">I</span> FOUND</b> my way straight enough the next night to the little green with +its trees and shrubs. Tom was there, and was humming one of our +boyhood's songs taught us by Leah:</p> + +<div class="poem clearboth"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Young Henry was as brave a youth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ever graced a martial story;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Jane was fair as lovely truth:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She sighed for love, and he for glory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To her his faith he meant to plight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And told her many a gallant story:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But war, their honest joys to blight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Called him away from love to glory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Young Henry met the foe with pride;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Jane followed—fought—ah! hapless story!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In man's attire, by Henry's side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She died for love, and he for glory."<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum">[30]</span></div></div> + +<p>He was still dressed as a sailor, but the pilot-coat was buttoned up +high and tight about his throat, and the round glazed hat was worn +upon the front of his head instead of the back of it.</p> + +<p>"I thought you meant to change these things, Tom," I said as we sat +down.</p> + +<p>"All in good time," he answered; "don't quite know yet what costume to +adopt. Could one become a negro-melody man, think you, Charley—or a +Red Indian juggler with balls and sword-swallowing?"</p> + +<p>How light he seemed! how supremely indifferent! Was it real or only +assumed? Then he turned suddenly upon me:</p> + +<p>"I say, what are you in black for, Charley? For my sins?"</p> + +<p>"For Mr. Brightman."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brightman!" he repeated, his tone changing to one of concern. "Is +he dead?"</p> + +<p>"He died the last week in February. Some weeks ago now. Died quite +suddenly."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, well!" softly breathed Tom<span class="pagenum">[31]</span> Heriot. "I am very sorry. I +did not know it. But how am I likely to know anything of what the past +months have brought forth?"</p> + +<p>It would serve no purpose to relate the interview of that night in +detail. We spent it partly in quarrelling. That is, in differences of +opinion. It was impossible to convince Tom of his danger. I told him +about the Sunday incident, when Detective Arkwright passed the door of +Serjeant Stillingfar, and my momentary fear that he might be looking +after Tom. He only laughed. "Good old Uncle Stillingfar!" cried he; +"give my love to him." And all his conversation was carried on in the +same light strain.</p> + +<p>"But you must leave Lambeth," I urged. "You said you would do so."</p> + +<p>"I said I might. I will, if I see just cause for doing so. Plenty of +time yet. I am not <i>sure</i>, you know, Charles, that Wren would know +me."</p> + +<p>"The very fact of your having called<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> yourself 'Strange' ought to take +you away from here."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose that was a bit of a mistake," he acknowledged. "But +look here, brother mine, your own fears mislead you. Until it is known +that I have made my way home no one will be likely to look after me. +Believing me to be at the antipodes, they won't search London for me."</p> + +<p>"They may suspect that you are in London, if they don't actually know +it."</p> + +<p>"Not they. To begin with, it must be a matter of absolute uncertainty +whether we got picked up at all, after escaping from the island; but +the natural conclusion will be that, if we were, it was by a vessel +bound for the colonies: homeward-bound ships do not take that course. +Everyone at all acquainted with navigation knows that. I assure you, +our being found by the whaler was the merest chance in the world. Be +at ease, Charley. I can take care of myself, and I will leave Lambeth +if necessary. One of these fine mornings you may get a note<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> from me, +telling you I have emigrated to the Isle of Dogs, or some such +enticing quarter, and have become 'Mr. Smith.' Meanwhile, we can meet +here occasionally."</p> + +<p>"I don't like this place, Tom. It must inevitably be attended with +more or less danger. Had I not better come to your lodgings?"</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, after a moment's consideration. "I am quite sure +that we are safe here, and there it's hot and stifling—a dozen +families living in the same house. And I shall not tell you where the +lodgings are, Charles: you might be swooping down upon me to carry me +away as Mephistopheles carried away Dr. Faustus."</p> + +<p>After supplying him with money, with a last handshake, whispering a +last injunction to be cautious, I left the triangle, and left him +within it. The next moment found me face to face with the burly frame +and wary glance of Mr. Policemen Wren. He was standing still in the +starlight. I walked past him with as much unconcern as I could<span class="pagenum">[34]</span> +muster. He turned to look after me for a time, and then continued his +beat.</p> + +<p>It gave me a scare. What would be the result if Tom met him +unexpectedly as I had done? I would have given half I was worth to +hover about and ascertain. But I had to go on my way.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>"Can you see Lord Level, sir?"</p> + +<p>It was the following Saturday afternoon, and I was just starting for +Hastings. The week had passed in anxious labour. Business cares for +me, more work than I knew how to get through, for Lennard was away +ill, and constant mental torment about Tom. I took out my watch before +answering Watts.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have five minutes to spare. If that will be enough for his +lordship," I added, laughing, as we shook hands: for he had followed +Watts into the room.</p> + +<p>"You are off somewhere, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to Hastings. I shall be back again to-morrow night. Can I do +anything for you?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[35]</span></p> + +<p>"Nothing," replied Lord Level. "I came up from Marshdale this morning, +and thought I would come round this afternoon to ask whether you have +any news."</p> + +<p>When Lord Level went to Marshdale on the visit that bore so suspicious +an aspect to his wife, he had remained there only one night, returning +to London the following day. This week he had been down again, and +stayed rather longer—two days, in fact. Blanche, as I chanced to +know, was rebelling over it. Secretly rebelling, for she had not +brought herself to accuse him openly.</p> + +<p>"News?" I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Of Tom Heriot."</p> + +<p>Should I tell Lord Level? Perhaps there was no help for it. When he +had asked me before I had known nothing positively; now I knew only +too much.</p> + +<p>"Why I should have it, I know not; but a conviction lies upon me that +he has found his way back to London," he continued. "Charles, you look +conscious. Do you know anything?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[36]</span></p> + +<p>"You are right. He is here, and I have seen him."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lord Level, throwing himself back in his +chair. "Has he really been mad enough to come back to London?"</p> + +<p>Drawing my own chair nearer to him, I bent forward, and in low tones +gave him briefly the history. I had seen Tom on the Monday and Tuesday +nights, as already related to the reader. On the Thursday night I was +again at the trysting-place, but Tom did not meet me. The previous +night, Friday, I had gone again, and again Tom did not appear.</p> + +<p>"Is he taken, think you?" cried Lord Level.</p> + +<p>"I don't know: and you see I dare not make any inquiries. But I think +not. Had he been captured, it would be in the papers."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure of that. What an awful thing! What suspense for us +all! Can <i>nothing</i> be done?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I answered, rising, for my<span class="pagenum">[37]</span> time was up. "We can only wait, +and watch, and be silent."</p> + +<p>"If it were not for the disgrace reflected upon us, and raking it up +again to people's minds, I would say let him be re-taken! It would +serve him right for his foolhardiness."</p> + +<p>"How is Blanche?"</p> + +<p>"Cross and snappish; unaccountably so: and showing her temper to me +rather unbearably."</p> + +<p>I laughed—willing to treat the matter lightly. "She does not care +that you should go travelling without her, I take it."</p> + +<p>Lord Level, who was passing out before me, turned and gazed into my +face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he emphatically. "But a man may have matters to take up +his attention, and his movements also, that he may deem it inexpedient +to talk of to his wife."</p> + +<p>He spoke with a touch of haughtiness. "Very true," I murmured, as we +shook hands and went out together, he walking away towards Gloucester +Place, I jumping into the cab waiting to take me to the station.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[38]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman was better; I knew that; and showing herself more +self-controlled. But there was no certainty that the improvement would +be lasting. In truth, the certainty lay rather the other way. Her +mother's home was no home for Annabel; and I had formed the resolution +to ask her to come to mine.</p> + +<p>The sun had set when I reached Hastings, and Miss Brightman's house. +Miss Brightman, who seemed to grow less strong day by day, which I was +grieved to hear, was in her room lying down. Annabel sat at the front +drawing-room window in the twilight. She started up at my entrance, +full of surprise and apprehension.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charles! Has anything happened? Is mamma worse?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; your mamma is very much better," said I cheerfully. "I +have taken a run down for the pleasure of seeing you, Annabel."</p> + +<p>She still looked uneasy. I remembered the dreadful tidings I had +brought the last time<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> I came to Hastings. No doubt she was thinking +of it, too, poor girl.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat, Charles," she said. "Aunt Lucy will soon be down."</p> + +<p>I drew a chair opposite to her, and talked for a little time on +indifferent topics. The twilight shades grew deeper, passers-by more +indistinct, the sea less bright and shimmering. Silence stole over +us—a sweet silence all too conscious, all too fleeting. Annabel +suddenly rose, stood at the window, and made some slight remark about +a little boat that was nearing the pier.</p> + +<p>"Annabel," I whispered, as I rose and stood by her, "you do not know +what I have really come down for."</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, with hesitation.</p> + +<p>"When I last saw you at your own home, you may remember that you were +in very great trouble. I asked you to share it with me, but you would +not do so."</p> + +<p>She began to tremble, and became agitated, and I passed my arm round +her waist.</p> + +<p>"My darling, I now know all."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[40]</span></p> + +<p>Her heart beat violently as I held her. Her hand shook nervously in +mine.</p> + +<p>"You cannot know all!" she cried piteously.</p> + +<p>"I know all; more than you do. Mrs. Brightman was worse after you +left, and Hatch sent for me. She and Mr. Close have told me the whole +truth."</p> + +<p>Annabel would have shrunk away, in the full tide of shame that swept +over her, and a low moan broke from her lips.</p> + +<p>"Nay, my dear, instead of shrinking from me, you must come nearer to +me—for ever. My home must be yours now."</p> + +<p>She did not break away from me, and stood pale and trembling, her +hands clasped, her emotion strong.</p> + +<p>"It cannot, must not be, Charles."</p> + +<p>"Hush, my love. It <i>can</i> be—and shall be."</p> + +<p>"Charles," she said, her very lips trembling, "weigh well what you are +saying. Do not suffer the—affection—I must speak fully—the implied +engagement that was<span class="pagenum">[41]</span> between us, ere this unhappiness came to my +knowledge and yours—do not suffer it to bind you now. It is a fearful +disgrace to attach to my poor mother, and it is reflected upon me."</p> + +<p>"Were your father living, Annabel, should you say the disgrace was +also reflected upon <i>him</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no. I could not do so. My good father! honourable and +honoured. Never upon him."</p> + +<p>I laughed a little at her want of logic.</p> + +<p>"Annabel, my dear, you have yourself answered the question. As I hold +you to my heart now, so will I, in as short a time as may be, hold you +in my home and at my hearth. Let what will betide, you shall have one +true friend to shelter and protect you with his care and love for ever +and for ever."</p> + +<p>Her tears were falling.</p> + +<p>"Oh please, please, Charles! I am sure it ought not to be. Aunt Lucy +would tell you so."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[42]</span></p> + +<p>Aunt Lucy came in at that moment, and proved to be on my side. She +would be going to Madeira at the close of the summer, and the +difficulty as to what was to be done then with Annabel had begun to +trouble her greatly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot take her with me, you see, Charles," she said. "In her +mother's precarious state, the child must not absent herself from +England. Still less can I leave her to her mother's care. Therefore I +think your proposal exactly meets the dilemma. I suppose matters have +been virtually settled between you for some little time now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Lucy!" remonstrated Annabel, blushing furiously.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, and I say it is all for the best. If you can suggest a +better plan I am willing to hear it."</p> + +<p>Annabel sat silent, her head drooping.</p> + +<p>"I may tell you this much, child: your father looked forward to it and +approved it. Not that he would have allowed the marriage to take place +just yet had he lived; I am<span class="pagenum">[43]</span> sure of that; but he is not living, and +circumstances alter cases."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he liked me, Miss Brightman," I ventured to put in, as +modestly as I could; "and I believe he would have consented to our +marriage."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he liked you very much; and so do I," she added, laughing. "I +wish I could say as much for Mrs. Brightman. The opposition, I fancy, +will come from her."</p> + +<p>"You think she will oppose it?" I said—and, indeed, the doubt had +lain in my own mind.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid so. Of course there will be nothing for it but patience. +Annabel cannot marry without her consent."</p> + +<p>How a word will turn the scales of our hopes and fears! That Mrs. +Brightman would oppose and wither our bright prospects came to me in +that moment with the certainty of conviction.</p> + +<p>"Come what come may, we will be true to each other," I whispered to +Annabel the next afternoon. We were standing at the<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> end of the pier, +looking out upon the calm sea, flashing in the sunshine, and I +imprisoned her hand momentarily in mine. "If we have to exercise all +the patience your Aunt Lucy spoke of, we will still hope on, and put +our trust in Heaven."</p> + +<p>"Even so, Charles." The evening was yet early when I reached London, +and I walked home from the station. St. Mary's was striking half-past +seven as I passed it. At the self-same moment, an arm was inserted +into mine. I turned quickly, wondering if anyone had designs upon my +small hand-bag.</p> + +<p>"All right, Charley! I'm not a burglar."</p> + +<p>It was only Lake. "Why, Arthur! I thought you had gone to Oxford until +Monday!"</p> + +<p>"Got news last night that the fellow could not have me: had to go down +somewhere or other," he answered, as we walked along arm-in-arm. "I +say, I had a bit of a scare just now."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> + +<p>"I thought I saw Tom pass. Tom Heriot," he added in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that's impossible, you know, Lake," I said, though I felt my +pulses quicken. "All your fancy."</p> + +<p>"It was just under that gas-lamp at the corner of Wellington Street," +Lake went on. "He was sauntering along as if he had nothing to do, +muffled in a coat that looked a mile too big for him, and a red +comforter. He lifted his face in passing, and stopped suddenly, as if +he had recognised me, and were going to speak; then seemed to think +better of it, turned on his heel and walked back the way he had been +coming. Charley, if it was not Tom Heriot, I never saw such a likeness +as that man bore to him."</p> + +<p>My lips felt glued. "It could not have been Tom Heriot, Lake. You know +Tom is at the antipodes. We will not talk of him, please. Are you +coming home with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I was going on to Barlow's Chambers, but I'll come with you +instead."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[46]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i006a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="h3">AN EVENING VISITOR.</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> spring flowers were showing themselves, and the may was budding in +the hedges. I thought how charming it all looked, as I turned, this +Monday afternoon, into Mrs. Brightman's grounds, where laburnums +drooped their graceful blossoms, and lilacs filled the air with their +perfume; how significantly it all spoke to the heart of renewed life +after the gloom of winter, the death and decay of nature.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman was herself, enjoying the spring-tide. She sat, robed +in crape, on a bench amidst the trees, on which the sun<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> was shining. +What a refined, proud, handsome face was hers! but pale and somewhat +haggard now. No other trace of her recent illness was apparent, except +a nervous trembling of the hands.</p> + +<p>"This is a surprise," she said, holding out one of those hands to me +quite cordially. "I thought you had been too busy of late to visit me +in the day-time."</p> + +<p>"Generally I am very busy, but I made time to come to-day. I have +something of importance to say to you, Mrs. Brightman. Will you hear +me?"</p> + +<p>She paused to look at me—a searching, doubtful look. Did she fear +that I was about to speak to her of her <i>failing</i>? The idea occurred +to me.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she coldly replied. "Business must, of course, be +attended to. Would you prefer to go indoors or to sit out here?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather remain here. I am not often favoured with such a +combination of velvet lawn and sunshine and sweet scents."</p> + +<p>She made room for me beside her. And,<span class="pagenum">[48]</span> with as little circumlocution +as possible, I brought out what I wanted—Annabel. When the heart is +truly engaged, a man at these moments can only be bashful, especially +when he sees it will be an uphill fight; but if the heart has nothing +to do with the matter, he can be as cool and suave as though he were +merely telling an everyday story.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman, hearing me to the end, rose haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Surely you do not know what you are saying!" she exclaimed. "Or is it +that I fail to understand you? You cannot be asking for the hand of my +daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed—pardon me—I am. Mrs. Brightman, we——"</p> + +<p>"Pardon <i>me</i>," she interrupted, "but I must tell you that it is +utterly preposterous. Say no more, Mr. Strange; not another word. My +daughter cannot marry a professional man. <i>I</i> did so, you may reply: +yes, and have forfeited my proper place in the world ever since."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Brightman would have given Annabel to me."</p> + +<p>"Possibly so, though I think not. As Mr. Brightman is no longer here, +we may let that supposition alone. And you must allow me to say this +much, sir—that it is scarcely seemly to come to me on any such +subject so soon after his death."</p> + +<p>"But——" I stopped in embarrassment, unable to give my reason for +speaking so soon. How could I tell Mrs. Brightman that it was to +afford Annabel a home and a protector: that this, her mother's home, +was not fitting for a refined and sensitive girl?</p> + +<p>But I pressed the suit. I told her I had Annabel's consent, and that I +had recently been with her at Hastings. I should like to have added +that I had Miss Brightman's, only that it might have done more harm +than good. I spoke very slightly of Miss Brightman's projected +departure from England, when her house would be shut up and Annabel +must leave Hastings. And I added<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> that I wanted to make a home for her +by that time.</p> + +<p>I am sure she caught my implied meaning, for she grew agitated and her +hands shook as they lay on her crape dress. Her diamond rings, which +she had not discarded, flashed in the sunlight. But she rallied her +strength. All her pride rose up in rebellion.</p> + +<p>"My daughter has her own home, sir; her home with me—what do you +mean? During my illness, I have allowed her to remain with her aunt, +but she will shortly return to me."</p> + +<p>And when I would have urged further, and pleaded as for something +dearer than life, she peremptorily stopped me.</p> + +<p>"I will hear no more, Mr. Strange. My daughter is descended on my side +from the nobles of the land—you must forgive me for thus alluding to +it—and it is impossible that I can forget that, or allow her to do +so. Never, with my consent, will she marry out of that grade: a +professional man is, in rank,<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> beneath her. This is my decision, and +it is unalterable. The subject is at an end, and I beg of you never +again to enter upon it."</p> + +<p>There was no chance of my pursuing it then, at any rate. Hatch came +from the house, a folded cloak on her arm, and approached her +mistress.</p> + +<p>"The carriage is at the gate, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman rose at once: she was going for a drive. After what had +just passed, I held out my arm to her with some hesitation. She put +the tips of her fingers within it, with a stiff "Thank you," and we +walked to the gate in silence. I handed her into the open carriage; +Hatch disposed the cloak upon her knees, assisted by the footman. With +a cold bow, Mrs. Brightman, who had already as coldly shaken hands +with me, drove away.</p> + +<p>Hatch, always ready for a gossip, stood within the little iron gate +while she spoke to me.</p> + +<p>"We be going away for a bit, sir," she began. "Did you know it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[52]</span></p> + +<p>"No. Mrs. Brightman has not mentioned the matter to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, we be, then," continued Hatch; "missis and me and Perry. Mr. +Close have got her to consent at last. I don't say that she was well +enough to go before; Close thought so, but I didn't. He wants her +gone, you see, Mr. Charles, to get that fancy out of her head about +master."</p> + +<p>"But does she still think she sees him?"</p> + +<p>"Not for the past few days," replied Hatch. "She has changed her +bedroom, and taken to the best spare one; and she has been better in +herself. Oh, she'll be all right now for a bit, if only——"</p> + +<p>"If only what?" I asked, for Hatch had paused.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, sir. If only she can control herself. I'm certain she +is trying to," added Hatch. "There ain't one of us would be so glad to +find it got rid of for good and all as she'd be. She's put about +frightfully yet at Miss Annabel's knowing of it."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[53]</span></p> + +<p>"And where is it that you are going to?"</p> + +<p>"Missis talked of Cheltenham; it was early, she thought, for the +seaside; but this morning she got a Cheltenham newspaper up, and saw +that amid the company staying there were Captain and Lady Grace +Chantrey. 'I'm not going where my brother and that wife of his are,' +she says to me in a temper—for, as I dare say you've heard, Mr. +Charles, they don't agree. And now she talks of Brighton. Whatever +place she fixes on, Perry is to be sent on first to take lodgings."</p> + +<p>"Well, Hatch," I said, "the change from home will do your mistress +good. She is much better. I trust the improvement will be permanent."</p> + +<p>"Ah, if she would but take care! It all lies in that, sir," concluded +Hatch, as I turned away from the gate, and she went up the garden.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>We must go back for a moment to the previous evening. Leaving behind +us the<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> church of St. Clement Danes and its lighted windows, Lake and +I turned into Essex Street, arm-in-arm, went down it and reached my +door. I opened it with my latch-key. The hall-lamp was not lighted, +and I wondered at Watts's neglect.</p> + +<p>"Go on up to my room," I said to Lake. "I'll follow you in a moment."</p> + +<p>He bounded up the stairs, and the next moment Leah came up from the +kitchen with a lighted candle, her face white and terrified.</p> + +<p>"It is only myself, Leah. Why is the lamp not alight?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven be good to us, sir!" she cried. "I thought I heard somebody go +upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lake has gone up."</p> + +<p>She dropped her candlestick upon the slab, and backed against the +wall, looking more white and terrified than ever. I thought she was +about to faint.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Charles! I feel as if I could die! I ought to have bolted the +front door."</p> + +<p>"But what for?" I cried, intensely surprised.<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> "What on earth is the +matter, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"He is up there, sir! Up in your front sitting-room. I put out the +hall-lamp, thinking the house would be best in darkness."</p> + +<p>"Who is up there?" For in the moment's bewilderment I did not glance +at the truth.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mr. Tom!</i> Up there?"</p> + +<p>"Not many minutes ago, soon after Watts had gone out to church—for he +was late to-night—there came a ring at the doorbell," said Leah. "I +came up to answer it, thinking nothing. A rough-looking man stood, in +a wide-awake hat, close against the door there. 'Is Mr. Strange at +home?' said he, and walked right in. I knew his voice, and I knew him, +and I cried out. 'Don't be stupid, Leah; it's only me,' says he. 'Is +Mr. Charles upstairs? Nobody with him, I hope.' 'There's nobody to +come and put his head in the lion's mouth,<span class="pagenum">[56]</span> as may be said, there at +all, sir,' said I; and up he went, like a lamplighter. I put the +hall-lamp out. I was terrified out of my senses, and told him you were +at Hastings, but I expected you in soon. And Mr. Charles," wound up +Leah, "I think he must have gone clean daft."</p> + +<p>"Light the lamp again," I replied. "It always <i>is</i> alight, you know. +If the house is in darkness, you might have a policeman calling to +know what was the matter."</p> + +<p>Tom was in a fit of laughter when I got upstairs. He had taken off his +rough overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, and stood in a worn—very much +worn—suit of brown velveteen breeches and gaiters. Lake stared at him +over the table, a comical expression on his face.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we shake hands, to begin with," said Lake. And they clasped +hands heartily across the table.</p> + +<p>"Did you know me just now, in the Strand, Lake?" asked Tom Heriot.</p> + +<p>"I did," replied Lake, and his tone proved<span class="pagenum">[57]</span> that he meant it. "I said +to Charley, here, that I had just seen a fellow very like Tom Heriot; +but I knew who it was, fast enough."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have known me, though, if I hadn't lifted my face to the +lamp-light. I forget myself at moments, you see," added Tom, after a +pause. "Meeting you unexpectedly, I was about to speak as in the old +days, and recollected myself only just in time. I say"—turning +himself about in his velveteens—"should you take me for a +gamekeeper?"</p> + +<p>"No, I should not: you don't look the thing at all," I put in testily, +for I was frightfully vexed with him altogether. "I thought you must +have been taken up by your especial friend, Wren. Twice have I been to +the trysting-place as agreed, but you did not appear."</p> + +<p>"No; but I think he nearly had me," replied Tom.</p> + +<p>"How was that?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," he answered, as we all three took chairs round the +fire, and I stirred<span class="pagenum">[58]</span> it into a blaze. "On the Wednesday I did not go +out at all; I told you I should not. On the Thursday, after dusk, I +went out to meet you, Charley. It was early, and I strolled in for a +smoke with Lee and a chat with Miss Betsy. The old man began at once: +'Captain Strange, Policeman Wren has been here, asking questions about +you.' It seems old Wren is well known in the neighbourhood——"</p> + +<p>"Captain Strange?" cried Lake. "Who is Captain Strange?"</p> + +<p>"I am—down there," laughed Tom. "Don't interrupt, please. 'What +questions?' I said to Lee. 'Oh, what your name was, and where you came +from, and if I had known you long, and what your ship was called,' +answered Lee. 'And you told him?' I asked. 'Well, I should have told +him, but for Betsy,' he said. 'Betsy spoke up, saying you were a +sailor-gentleman that came in to buy tobacco and newspapers; and that +was all he got out of us, not your name, captain, or anything. As +Betsy said to me<span class="pagenum">[59]</span> afterwards, it was not our place to answer questions +about Captain Strange: if the policeman wanted to know anything, let +him apply to the captain himself. Which I thought good sense,' +concluded Lee. As it was."</p> + +<p>"Well, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought it about time to go straight home again," said Tom; +"and that's why I did not meet you, Charley. And the next day, Friday, +I cleared out of my diggings in that quarter of the globe, rigged +myself out afresh, and found other lodgings. I am nearer to you now, +Charley: vegetating in the wilds over Blackfriars Bridge."</p> + +<p>"How could you be so imprudent as to come here to-night? or to be seen +in so conspicuous a spot as the Strand?"</p> + +<p>"The fit took me to pay you a visit, old fellow. As to the Strand—it +is a fine thoroughfare, you know, and I had not set eyes on it since +last summer. I walked up and down a bit, listening to the church +bells, and looking about me."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[60]</span></p> + +<p>"You turn everything into ridicule, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Better that, Charley, than into sighing and groaning."</p> + +<p>"How did you know that Leah would open the door to you? Watts might +have done so."</p> + +<p>"I had it all cut-and-dried. 'Is Mrs. Brown at home?' I should have +said, in a voice Watts would never have known. 'Mrs. Brown don't live +here,' old Watts would have answered; upon which I should have +politely begged his pardon and walked off."</p> + +<p>"All very fine, Tom, and you may think yourself amazingly clever; but +as sure as you are living, you will run these risks once too often."</p> + +<p>"Not I. Didn't I give old Leah a scare! You should have heard her +shriek."</p> + +<p>"Suppose it had been some enemy—some stickler for law and +justice—that I had brought home with me to-night, instead of Lake?"</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't," laughed Tom. "It was<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> Lake himself. And I guess he is +as safe as you are."</p> + +<p>"Be sure of that," added Lake. "But what do you think of doing, +Heriot? You cannot hide away for ever in the wilds of Blackfriars. <i>I</i> +would not answer for your safety there for a day."</p> + +<p>"Goodness knows!" said Tom. "Perhaps Charley could put me up here—in +one of his top bedrooms?"</p> + +<p>Whether he spoke in jest or earnest, I knew not. He might remember +that I was running a risk in concealing him even for an hour or two. +Were it discovered, the law might make me answer for it.</p> + +<p>"I should like something to eat, Charley."</p> + +<p>Leaving him with Lake, I summoned Leah, and bade her bring up quickly +what she had. She speedily appeared with the tray.</p> + +<p>"Good old Leah!" said Tom to her. "That ham looks tempting."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tom, if you go on like this, loitering in the open streets and +calling at houses,<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> trouble will overtake you," returned Leah, in much +the same tone she had used to reprimand him when a child. "I wonder +what your dear, good mother would say to it if she saw you throwing +yourself into peril. Do you remember, sir, how often she would beg of +you to be good?"</p> + +<p>"My mother!" repeated Tom, who was in one of his lightest moods. "Why, +you never saw her. She was dead and buried and gone to heaven before +you knew anything of us."</p> + +<p>"Ah well, Master Tom, you know I mean Mrs. Heriot—afterwards Mrs. +Strange. It wouldn't be you, sir, if you didn't turn everything into a +jest. She was a good mother to you all."</p> + +<p>"That she was, Leah. Excused our lessons for the asking, and fed us on +jam."</p> + +<p>He was taking his supper rapidly the while; for, of course, he had to +be away before church was over and Watts was home again. The man might +have been true and faithful; little doubt of it; but it<span class="pagenum">[63]</span> would have +added one more item to the danger.</p> + +<p>Lake went out and brought a cab; and Tom, his wide-awake low on his +brow, his rough coat on, and his red comforter round about his throat, +vaulted into it, to be conveyed over Blackfriars Bridge to any point +that he might choose to indicate.</p> + +<p>"It is an amazing hazard his going about like this," cried Lake, as we +sat down together in front of the fire. "He must be got out of England +as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>"But he won't go."</p> + +<p>"Then, mark my words, Charles, bad will come of it."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[64]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i008a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="h3">RESTITUTION.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-t.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">T</span>IME</b> had gone on—weeks and weeks—though there is little to tell of +passing events. Things generally remained pretty much as they had +been. The Levels were abroad again. Mrs. Brightman on the whole was +better, but had occasional relapses; Annabel spent most of her time at +Hastings; and Tom Heriot had not yet been taken.</p> + +<p>Tom was now at an obscure fishing village on the coast of Scotland, +passing himself off as a fisherman, owning a small boat and pretending +to fish. This did not allay our anxiety, which was almost as great as +ever.<span class="pagenum">[65]</span> Still, it was something to have him away from London. Out of +Great Britain he refused to move.</p> + +<p>Does the reader remember George Coney's money, that so strangely +disappeared the night of Mr. Brightman's death? From that hour to this +nothing has been seen or heard of it: but the time for it was now at +hand. And what I am about to relate may appear a very common-place +ending to a mystery—though, indeed, it was not yet quite the ending. +In my capacity of story-teller I could have invented a hundred +romantic incidents, and worked them and the reader up to a high point +of interest; but I can only record the incident as it happened, and +its termination was a very matter-of-fact one.</p> + +<p>I was sitting one evening in the front room: a sitting-room now—I +think this has been said before—smoking my after-dinner cigar. The +window was open to the summer air, which all day long had been +intensely hot. A letter received in the morning from<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> Gloucestershire +from Mr. Coney, to which his son had scrawled a postscript: "Has that +bag turned up yet?" had set me thinking of the loss, and from that I +fell to thinking of the loss of the Clavering will, which had followed +close upon it. Edmund Clavering, by the way, had been with me that day +to impart some news. He was going to be married—to a charming girl, +too—and we were discussing settlements. My Lady Clavering, he said, +was figuring at Baden-Baden, and report ran that she was about to +espouse a French count with a fierce moustache.</p> + +<p>Presently I took up the <i>Times</i>, not opened before that day, and was +deep in a police case, which had convulsed the court in Marlborough +Street with laughter, and was convulsing me, when a vehicle dashed +down Essex Street. It was the van of the Parcels Delivery Company.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strange live here?" was the question I heard from the man who had +descended from the seat beside the driver, when Watts went out.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[67]</span></p> + +<p>"All right," said Watts.</p> + +<p>"Here's a parcel for him. Nothing to pay."</p> + +<p>The driver whipped up his horse, then turned sharply round, +and—overturned the van. It was not the first accident of a similar +nature, or the last by many, that I have seen in that particular spot. +How it is I don't know, but drivers, especially cabmen, have an +unconquerable propensity for pulling their horses round in a +perilously short fashion at the bottom of Essex Street, and sometimes +the result is that they come to grief. I threw down my newspaper and +leaned out at the window watching the fun. The street was covered with +parcels, and the driver and his friend were throwing off their +consternation in choice language. One hamper could not be picked up: +it had contained wine loosely packed, and the broken bottles were +lying in a red pool. Where the mob collected from, that speedily +arrived to assist, was a marvel. The van at length took its departure +up the street, considerably shorn<span class="pagenum">[68]</span> of the triumph with which it had +dashed down.</p> + +<p>This had taken up a considerable space of time, and it was growing too +dark to resume my newspaper. Turning from the window, I proceeded to +examine the parcel which Watts had brought up on its arrival and +placed on the table. It was about a foot square, wrapped in brown +paper, sealed and tied with string; and, in what Tony Lumpkin would +have called a confounded cramped, up-and-down hand, where you could +not tell an izzard from an R, was directed "C. Strange, Esquire."</p> + +<p>I took out my penknife, cut the string, and removed the paper; and +there was disclosed a pasteboard-box with green edges, also sealed. I +opened it, and from a mass of soft paper took out a small canvas bag, +tied round with tape, and containing thirty golden sovereigns!</p> + +<p>From the very depth of my conviction I believed it to be the bag we +had lost. It was the bag; for, on turning it round, there<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> were Mr. +Coney's initials, S. C., neatly marked with blue cotton, as they had +been on the one left by George. It was one of their sample barley +bags. I wondered if they were the same sovereigns. Where had it been? +Who had taken it? And who had returned it?</p> + +<p>I rang the bell, and then called to Watts, who was coming up to answer +it, to bring Leah also. It was my duty to tell them, especially Leah, +of the money's restitution, as they had been inmates of the house when +it was lost.</p> + +<p>Watts only stared and ejaculated; but Leah, with some colour, for +once, in her pale cheeks, clasped her hands. "Oh, sir, I'm thankful +you have found it again!" she exclaimed. "I'm heartily thankful!"</p> + +<p>"So am I, Leah, though the mystery attending the transaction is as +great as ever; indeed, more so."</p> + +<p>It certainly was. They went down again, and I sat musing over the +problem. But nothing could I make out of it. One moment<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> I argued that +the individual taking it (whomsoever it might be) must have had +temporary need of funds, and, the difficulty over, had now restored +the money. The next, I wondered whether anyone could have taken the +bag inadvertently, and had now discovered it. I locked the bag safely +up, wrote a letter to George Coney, and then went out to confide the +news to Arthur Lake.</p> + +<p>Taking the short cuts and passages that lead from Essex Street to the +Temple, as I generally did when bound for Lake's chambers, I was +passing onwards, when I found myself called to—or I thought so. +Standing still in the shade, leaning against the railings of the +Temple Gardens, was a slight man of middle height: and he seemed to +say "Charley."</p> + +<p>Glancing in doubt, half stopping as I did so, yet thinking I must have +been mistaken, I was passing on, when the voice came again.</p> + +<p>"Charley!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p> + +<p>I stopped then. And I declare that in the revulsion it brought me you +might have knocked me down with a feather; for it was Tom Heriot.</p> + +<p>"I was almost sure it was you, Charles," he said in a low voice; "but +not quite sure."</p> + +<p>I had not often had such a scare as this. My heart, with pain and +dismay, beat as if it meant to burst its bonds.</p> + +<p>"Can it possibly be <i>you</i>?" I cried. "What brings you here? Why have +you come again?"</p> + +<p>"Reached London this morning. Came here when dusk set in, thinking I +might have the luck to see you or Lake, Charley."</p> + +<p>"But why have you left Scotland? You were safer there."</p> + +<p>"Don't know that I was. And I had grown tired to death of it."</p> + +<p>"It will end in death, or something like it, if you persist in staying +here."</p> + +<p>Tom laughed his gay, ringing laugh. I looked round to see that no one +was about, or within hearing.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[72]</span></p> + +<p>"What a croaker you are, old Charley! I'm sure you ought to kill the +fatted calf, to celebrate my return from banishment."</p> + +<p>"But, Tom, you <i>know</i> how dangerous it is, and must be, for you to be +here in London."</p> + +<p>"And it was becoming dangerous up there," he quickly rejoined. "Since +the summer season set in, those blessed tourists are abroad again, +with their staves and knapsacks. No place is safe from them, and the +smaller and more obscure it is, the more they are sure to find it. The +other day I was in my boat in my fishing toggery, as usual, when a +fellow comes up, addresses me as 'My good man,' and plunges into +queries touching the sea and the fishing-trade. Now who do you think +that was, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say."</p> + +<p>"It was James Lawless, Q.C.—the leader who prosecuted at my trial."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!"</p> + +<p>"I unfastened the boat, keeping my back to him and my face down, and +shot off like a whirlwind, calling out that I was behind<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> time, and +must put out. I took good care, Charles, not to get back before the +stars were bright in the night sky."</p> + +<p>"Did he recognise you?"</p> + +<p>"No—no. For certain, no. But he would have done so had I stayed to +talk. And it is not always that I could escape as I did then. You must +see that."</p> + +<p>I saw it all too plainly.</p> + +<p>"So I thought it best to make myself scarce, Charles, and leave the +tourists' haunts. I sold my boat; no difficulty in that; though, of +course, the two men who bought it shaved me; and came over to London +as fast as a third-class train would bring me. Dare not put my nose +into a first-class carriage, lest I should drop upon some one of my +old chums."</p> + +<p>"Of all places, Tom, you should not have chosen London."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me, old fellow, what other place I could have pitched +upon?"</p> + +<p>And I could not tell.</p> + +<p>"Go where I will," he continued, "it<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> seems that the Philistines are +likely to find me out."</p> + +<p>We were pacing about now, side by side, keeping in the shade as much +as possible, and speaking under our breath.</p> + +<p>"You will have to leave the country, Tom; you must do it. And go +somewhere over the seas."</p> + +<p>"To Van Diemen's Land, perhaps," suggested Tom.</p> + +<p>"Now, be quiet. The subject is too serious for jesting. I should +think—perhaps—America. But I must have time to consider. Where do +you mean to stay at present? Where are you going to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I've been dodging about all day, not showing up much; but I'm going +now to where I lodged last, down Blackfriars way. You remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember: it is not so long ago."</p> + +<p>"It is as safe as any other quarter, for aught I can tell. Any way, I +don't know of another."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[75]</span></p> + +<p>"Are you well, Tom?" I asked. He was looking thin, and seemed to have +a nasty cough upon him.</p> + +<p>"I caught cold some time ago, and it hangs about me," he replied. "Oh, +I shall be all right now I'm here," he added carelessly.</p> + +<p>"You ought to take a good jorum of something hot when you get to bed +to-night——"</p> + +<p>Tom laughed. "I <i>am</i> likely to get anything of that sort in any +lodging I stand a chance of to-night. Well done, Charley! I haven't +old Leah to coddle me."</p> + +<p>And somehow the mocking words made me realize the discomforts and +deprivations of Tom Heriot's present life. How would it all end?</p> + +<p>We parted with a hand-shake: he stealing off on his way to his +lodging, I going thoughtfully on mine. It was a calm summer evening, +clear and lovely, the stars twinkling in the sky, but all its peace +had gone out for me.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to foresee what the<span class="pagenum">[76]</span> ending would or could be. At +any moment Tom might be recognised and captured, so long as he +inhabited London; and it might be difficult to induce him to leave it. +Still more difficult to cause him to depart altogether for other lands +and climes.</p> + +<p>Not long before, I had consulted with Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar as to +the possibility of obtaining a pardon for Tom. That he had not been +guilty was indisputable, though the law had deemed him so. But the +Serjeant had given me no encouragement that any such movement would be +successful. The very fact, as he pointed out, of Tom Heriot's having +escaped clandestinely, would tell against him. What, I said then, if +Tom gave himself up? He smiled, and told me I had better not ask his +opinion upon the practical points of the case.</p> + +<p>So the old trouble was back again in full force, and I knew not how to +cope with it.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>The summer sun, glowing with light and heat, lay full upon Hastings +and St.<span class="pagenum">[77]</span> Leonard's. The broad expanse of sea sparkled beneath it; the +houses that looked on the water were burning and blistering under the +fierce rays. Miss Brightman, seated at her drawing-room window, +knitting in hand, observed that it was one of the most dazzling days +she remembered.</p> + +<p>The remark was made to me and to Annabel. We sat at the table +together, looking over a book of costly engravings that Miss Brightman +had recently bought. "I shall leave it with you, Charles," she said, +"when I go away; you will take care of it. And if it were not that you +are tied to London, and it would be too far for you to go up and down +daily, I would leave you my house also—that you might live in it, and +take care of that during my absence."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman had come to her senses. Very much, I confess, to my +astonishment, much also I think to Annabel's, she had put aside her +prejudices and consented to our marriage. The difficulty of where her +daughter was to be during Miss Brightman's<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> sojourn in Madeira had in +a degree paved the way for it. Annabel would, of course, have returned +to her mother; she begged hard to be allowed to do so: she believed it +her duty to be with her. But Miss Brightman would not hear of it, and, +had she yielded, I should have interposed my veto in Mr. Brightman's +name. In Hatch's words, strong in sense but weak in grammar, "their +home wasn't no home for Miss Annabel."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman could only be conscious of this. During her sojourn at +Brighton, and for some little time after her return home, she had been +very much better; had fought resolutely with the insidious foe, and +conquered. But alas! she fell away again. Now she was almost as bad as +ever; tolerably sober by day, very much the opposite by night.</p> + +<p>Miss Brightman, dating forward, seeing, as she feared, only shoals and +pitfalls, and most anxious for Annabel, had journeyed up to Clapham to +her sister-in-law, and stayed there with her a couple of days. What<span class="pagenum">[79]</span> +passed between them even Hatch never knew; but she did know that her +mistress was brought to a penitent and subdued frame of mind, and that +she promised Lucy Brightman, with many tears, to <i>strive</i> to overcome +her fatal habit for the good God's sake. And it was during this visit +that she withdrew her opposition to the marriage; when Miss Brightman +returned home she carried the consent with her.</p> + +<p>And my present visit to Hastings was to discuss time and place and +other matters; more particularly the question of where our home was to +be. A large London house we were not yet rich enough to set up, and I +would not take Annabel to an inferior one; but I had seen a charming +little cottage at Richmond that might suit us—if she liked the +locality.</p> + +<p>Closing the book of engravings, I turned to Miss Brightman, and +entered upon the subject. Suddenly her attention wavered. It seemed to +be attracted by something in the road.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[80]</span></p> + +<p>"Why, bless my heart, <i>it is</i>!" she cried in astonishment. "If ever I +saw Hatch in my life, that is Hatch—coming up the street! Annabel, +child, give me the glasses."</p> + +<p>The glasses were on the table, and I handed them to her. Annabel flew +to the window and grew white. She was never free from fears of what +might happen in her mother's house. Hatch it was, and apparently in +haste.</p> + +<p>"What can be the matter?" she gasped. "Oh, Aunt Lucy!"</p> + +<p>"Hatch is nodding heartily, as if not much were wrong," remarked Miss +Brightman, who was watching her through the glasses. "Hatch is +peculiar in manner, as you are aware, Mr. Charles, but she means no +disrespect by it."</p> + +<p>I smiled. I knew Hatch quite as well as Miss Brightman knew her.</p> + +<p>"Now what brings you to Hastings?" she exclaimed, rising from her +chair, when Hatch was shown in.</p> + +<p>"My missis brought me, ma'am," returned<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> Hatch, with composure. "Miss +Annabel, you be looking frighted, but there's nothing wrong. Yesterday +morning, all in a flurry like, your mamma took it into her head to +come down here, and we drove down with——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Drove</i> down?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, with four posters to the carriage. My missis can't abear +the rail; she says folks stare at her: and here we be at the Queen's +Hotel, she, and me, and Perry."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to take a chair, Hatch?" said Miss Brightman.</p> + +<p>"My legs is used to standing, ma'am," replied Hatch, with a nod of +thanks, "and I've not much time to linger. It was late last night when +we got here. This morning, up gets my missis, and downstairs she comes +to her breakfast in her sitting-room, and me with her to wait upon +her, for sometimes her hands is shaky, and she prefers me to Perry or +anybody else——"</p> + +<p>"How has your mistress been lately?" interposed Miss Brightman.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[82]</span></p> + +<p>"Better, ma'am. Not always quite the thing, though a deal better on +the whole. But I must get on about this morning," added Hatch +impressively. "'Waiter,' says my missis when the man brings up the +coffee. 'Mum?' says he. 'I am subject to spadical attacks in the +chest,' says she, 'and should like to have some brandy in my room: +they take me sometimes in the middle of the night. Put a bottle into +it, the very best French, and a corkscrew. Or you may as well put two +bottles,' she goes on; 'I may be here some time.' 'It shall be done, +mum,' says he. I was as vexed as I could be to hear it," broke off +Hatch, "but what could I do? I couldn't contradict my missis and tell +the man that no brandy must be put in her room, or else she'd drink +it. Well, ma'am, I goes down presently to my own breakfast with Perry, +and while we sat at it a chambermaid comes through the room: 'I've put +two bottles of brandy in the lady's bedroom, as was ordered,' says +she. With that Perry looks at me all in a fluster<span class="pagenum">[83]</span>—he have no more +wits to turn things off than a born idiot. 'Very well,' says I to her, +eating at my egg as if I thought nothing; 'I hopes my missis won't +have no call to use 'em, but she's took awful bad in the chest +sometimes, and it's as well for us to be ready.' 'I'm sure I pities +her,' says the girl, 'for there ain't nothing worse than spasms. I has +'em myself occasional——'"</p> + +<p>When once Hatch was in the full flow of a narrative, there was no +getting in a word edgeways, and Miss Brightman had to repeat her +question twice: "Does Perry know the nature of the illness that +affects Mrs. Brightman?"</p> + +<p>"Why, in course he does, ma'am," was Hatch's rejoinder. "He couldn't +be off guessing it for himself, and the rest I told him. Why, ma'am, +without his helping, we could never keep it dark from the servants at +home. It was better to make a confidant of Perry, that I might have +his aid in screening the trouble, than to let it get round to +everybody. He's as safe and sure<span class="pagenum">[84]</span> as I be, and when it all first came +out to him, he cried over it, to think of what his poor master must +have suffered in mind before death took him. Well, ma'am, I made haste +over my breakfast, and I went upstairs, and there was the bottles and +the corkscrew, so I whips 'em off the table and puts them out of +sight. Mrs. Brightman comes up presently, and looks about and goes +down again. Three separate times she comes up, and the third time she +gives the bell a whirl, and in runs the chambermaid, who was only +outside. 'I gave orders this morning,' says my lady, 'to have some +brandy placed in the room.' 'Oh, I have got the brandy,' says I, +before the girl could speak; 'I put it in the little cupboard here, +ma'am.' So away goes the girl, looking from the corners of her eyes at +me, as if suspicious I meant to crib it for my own use: and my +mistress began: 'Draw one of them corks, Hatch.' 'No, ma'am,' says I, +'not yet; please don't.' 'Draw 'em both,' says missis—for there are +times," added<span class="pagenum">[85]</span> Hatch, "when a trifle puts her out so much that it's +hazardous to cross her. I drew the cork of one, and missis just +pointed with her finger to the tumbler on the wash-handstand, and I +brought it forward and the decanter of water. 'Now you may go,' says +she; so I took up the corkscrew. 'I told you to leave that,' says she, +in her temper, and I had to come away without it, and the minute I was +gone she turned the key upon me. Miss Annabel, I see the words are +grieving of you, but they are the truth, and I can but tell them."</p> + +<p>"Is she there now—locked in?" asked Miss Brightman.</p> + +<p>"She's there now," returned Hatch, with solemn enunciation, to make up +for her failings in grammar, which was never anywhere in times of +excitement; "she is locked in with them two bottles and the corkscrew, +and she'll just drink herself mad—and what's to be done? I goes at +once to Perry and tells him. 'Let's get in through the winder,' says +Perry—which his brains is only fit for<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> a gander, as I've said many a +time. 'You stop outside her door to listen again downright harm,' says +I, 'that's what you'll do; and I'll go for Miss Brightman.' And here +I'm come, ma'am, running all the way."</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" wailed Miss Brightman.</p> + +<p>"Ma'am," answered Hatch, "I think that if you'll go back with me, and +knock at her room door, and call out that you be come to pay her a +visit, she'd undo it. She's more afeared of you than of anybody +living. She can't have done herself much harm yet, and you might coax +her out for a walk or a drive, and then bring her in to dinner +here—anything to get her away from them two dangerous bottles. If I +be making too free, ma'am, you'll be good enough to excuse me—it is +for the family's sake. At home I can manage her pretty well, but to +have a scene at the hotel would make it public."</p> + +<p>"What is to be the ending?" I exclaimed involuntarily as Miss +Brightman went in haste for her bonnet.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p> + +<p>"Why, the ending must be—just what it will be," observed Hatch +philosophically. "But, Mr. Charles, I don't despair of her yet. +Begging your pardon, Miss Annabel, you'd better not come. Your mamma +won't undo her door if she thinks there's many round it."</p> + +<p>Annabel stood at the window as they departed, her face turned from me, +her eyes blinded with tears. I drew her away, though I hardly knew how +to soothe her. It was a heavy grief to bear.</p> + +<p>"My days are passed in dread of what tidings may be on the way to me," +she began, after a little time given to gathering composure. "I ought +to be nearer my mother, Charles; I tell Aunt Lucy so almost every day. +She might be ill and dead before I could get to her, up in London."</p> + +<p>"And you will be nearer to her shortly, Annabel. My dear, where shall +our home be? I was thinking of Richmond——"</p> + +<p>"No, no," she interrupted in sufficient<span class="pagenum">[88]</span> haste to show me she had +thoughts of her own.</p> + +<p>"Annabel! It shall not be <i>there</i>: at your mother's. Anywhere else."</p> + +<p>"It is somewhere else that I want to be."</p> + +<p>"Then you shall be. Where is it?"</p> + +<p>She lifted her face like a pleading child's, and spoke in a whisper. +"Charles, let me come to you in Essex Street."</p> + +<p>"<i>Essex Street!</i>" I echoed in surprise. "My dear Annabel, I will +certainly not bring you to Essex Street and its inconveniences. I +cannot do great things for you yet, but I can do better than that."</p> + +<p>"They would not be inconveniences to me. I would turn them into +pleasures. We would take another servant to help Watts and Leah; or +two if necessary. You would not find me the least encumbrance; I would +never be in the way of your professional rooms. And in the evening, +when you had finished for the day, we would dine, and go down to +mamma's for an hour, and then back again.<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> Charles, it would be a +happy home: let me come to it."</p> + +<p>But I shook my head. I did not see how it could be arranged; and said +so.</p> + +<p>"No, because at present the idea is new to you," returned Annabel. +"<i>Think it over</i>, Charles. Promise me that you will do so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; I can at least promise you that."</p> + +<p>There was less trouble with Mrs. Brightman that day than had been +anticipated. She opened her door at once to her sister-in-law, who +brought her back to the Terrace. Hatch had been wise. In the afternoon +we all went for a drive in a fly, and returned to dinner. And the +following day Mrs. Brightman, with her servants, departed for London +in her travelling-carriage, no scandal whatever having been caused at +the Queen's Hotel. I went up by train early in the morning.</p> + +<p>It is surprising how much thinking upon a problem simplifies it. I +began to see by degrees that Annabel's coming to Essex<span class="pagenum">[90]</span> Street could +be easily managed; nay, that it would be for the best. Miss Brightman +strongly advocated it. At present a large portion of my income had to +be paid over to Mrs. Brightman in accordance with her husband's will, +so that I could not do as I would, and must study economy. Annabel +would be rich in time; for Mrs. Brightman's large income, vested at +present in trustees, must eventually descend to Annabel; but that time +was not yet. And who knew what expenses Tom Heriot might bring upon +me?</p> + +<p>Changes had to be made in the house. I determined to confine the +business rooms to the ground floor; making Miss Methold's parlour, +which had not been much used since her death, my own private +consulting-room. The front room on the first floor would be our +drawing-room, the one behind it the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Leah was in an ecstasy when she heard the news. The workmen were +coming in to paint and paper, and then I told her.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[91]</span></p> + +<p>"Of course, Mr. Charles, it—is——"</p> + +<p>"Is what, Leah?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Annabel."</p> + +<p>"It should be no one else, Leah. We shall want another servant or two, +but you can still be major-domo."</p> + +<p>"If my poor master had only lived to see it!" she uttered, with +enthusiasm. "How happy he would have been; how proud to have her here! +Well, well, what turns things take!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i009.jpg" width="150" height="158" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[92]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i010a.jpg" width="400" height="112" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="h3">CONFESSION.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-o.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">O</span>CTOBER</b> came in; and we were married early in the month, the wedding +taking place from Mrs. Brightman's residence, as was of course only +right and proper. It was so very quiet a wedding that there is not the +least necessity for describing it—and how can a young man be expected +to give the particulars of his own? Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar was +present; Lord and Lady Level, now staying in London, drove down for +it; and Captain Chantrey gave his niece away. For Mrs. Brightman had +chosen to request him to accept her invitation to do so, and to be +accompanied by his<span class="pagenum">[93]</span> wife, Lady Grace. Miss Brightman was also present, +having travelled up from Hastings the day before. Three or four days +later on, she would sail for Madeira.</p> + +<p>I could not spare more than a fortnight from work, leaving Lennard as +my locum tenens. Annabel would have been glad to spare less, for she +was haunted by visions of what might happen to her mother. Though +there was no especial cause for anxiety in that quarter just now, she +could never feel at ease. And on my part I was more anxious than ever +about Tom Heriot, for more reasons than one.</p> + +<p>The fortnight came to an end, all too soon: and late on the Saturday +evening we reached home. Watts threw open the door, and there stood +Leah in a silk gown. The drawing-room, gayer than it used to be, was +bright with a fire and preparations for tea.</p> + +<p>"How homelike it looks!" exclaimed Annabel. "Charles," she whispered, +turning to me with her earnest eyes, as she had been wont to do when a +child: "I will not<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> make the least noise when you have clients with +you. You shall not know I am in the house: I will take care not to +drop even a reel of cotton on the carpet. I do thank you for letting +me come to Essex Street: I should not have seemed so completely your +wife had you taken me to any but your old home."</p> + +<p>The floors above were also in order, their chambers refurnished. Leah +went up to them with her new mistress, and I went down to the clerks' +office, telling Annabel I should not be there five minutes. One of the +clerks, Allen, had waited; but I had expected Lennard.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Lennard not here?" I asked. "Did he not wait? I wrote to him +to do so."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lennard has not been here all day, sir," was Allen's reply. "A +messenger came from him this morning, to say he was ill."</p> + +<p>We were deep in letters and other matters, I and Allen, when the front +door<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> opened next the office door, and there stood Arthur Lake, +laughing, a light coat on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Fancy! I've been down the river for a blow," cried he. "Just landed +at the pier here. Seeing lights in your windows, I thought you must +have got back, Charley."</p> + +<p>We shook hands, and he stayed a minute, talking. Then, wishing +good-night to Allen, he backed out of the room, making an almost +imperceptible movement to me with his head. I followed him out, +shutting the office door behind me. Lake touched my arm and drew me +outside.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've not heard from Tom Heriot since you were away," +breathed Lake, in cautious tones, as we stood together on the outer +step.</p> + +<p>"No; I did not expect to hear. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I saw him three days ago," whispered Lake. "I had a queer-looking +letter on Wednesday morning from one Mr. Dominic Turk, asking me to +call at a certain place in Southwark. Of course, I guessed it was<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> +Tom, and that he had moved his lodgings again; and I found I was +right."</p> + +<p>"Dominic Turk!" I repeated. "Does he call himself <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>Lake laughed. "He is passing now for a retired schoolmaster. Says he's +sure nobody can doubt he is one as long as he sticks to that name."</p> + +<p>"How is he? Has any fresh trouble turned up? I'm sure you've something +bad to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Well, Charley, honestly speaking, it is a bad look-out, in more ways +than one," he answered. "He is very ill, to begin with; also has an +idea that a certain policeman named Wren has picked up an inkling of +his return, and is trying to unearth him. But," added Lake, "we can't +very well talk in this place. I've more to say——"</p> + +<p>"Come upstairs, and take tea with me and Annabel," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Can't," said he; "my dinner's waiting. I'm back two hours later than +I expected to be; it has been frizzling, I expect, all the<span class="pagenum">[97]</span> time. +Besides, old fellow, I'd rather you and I were alone. There's fearful +peril looming ahead, unless I'm mistaken. Can you come round to my +chambers to-morrow afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"No: we are going to Mrs. Brightman's after morning service."</p> + +<p>"It must be left until Monday, then; but I don't think there's much +time to be lost. Good-night."</p> + +<p>Lake hastened up the street, and I returned to Allen and the letters.</p> + +<p>With this interruption, and with all I found to do, the five minutes' +absence I had promised my wife lengthened into twenty. At last the +office was closed for the night, Allen left, and I ran upstairs, +expecting to have kept Annabel waiting tea. She was not in the +drawing-room, the tea was not made, and I went up higher and found her +sobbing in the bedroom. It sent me into a cold chill.</p> + +<p>"My love, what is this? Are you disappointed? Are you not happy?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[98]</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Charles," she sobbed, clinging to me, "you <i>know</i> I am happy. It +is not that. But I could not help thinking of my father. Leah got +talking about him; and I remembered once his sitting in that very +chair, holding me on his knee. I must have been about seven years old. +Miss Methold was ill——"</p> + +<p>At that moment there came a knock and a ring at the front door. Not a +common knock and ring, but sharp, loud and prolonged, resounding +through the house as from some impatient messenger of evil. It +startled us both. Annabel's fears flew to her mother; mine to a +different quarter, for Lake's communication was troubling and +tormenting me.</p> + +<p>"Charles! if——"</p> + +<p>"Hush, dear. Listen."</p> + +<p>As we stood outside on the landing, her heart beating against my +encircling hand, and our senses strained to listen, we heard Watts +open the front door.</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Strange come home?" cried a voice hurriedly—that of a +woman.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[99]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Watts.</p> + +<p>"Can I speak to him? It is on a matter of life and death."</p> + +<p>"Where do you come from?" asked Watts, with habitual caution.</p> + +<p>"I come from Mr. Lennard. Oh, pray do not waste time!"</p> + +<p>"All right, my darling; it is not from your mother," I whispered to +Annabel, as I ran down.</p> + +<p>A young woman stood at the foot of the stairs; I was at a loss to +guess her condition in life. She had the face and manner of a lady, +but her dress was poor and shabby.</p> + +<p>"I have come from my father, sir—Mr. Lennard," she said in a low +tone, blushing very much. "He is dangerously ill: we fear he is dying, +and so does he. He bade me say that he must see you, or he cannot die +in peace. Will you please be at the trouble of coming?"</p> + +<p>One hasty word despatched to my wife, and I went out with Miss +Lennard, hailing a cab, which had just set down its freight<span class="pagenum">[100]</span> some +doors higher up. "What is the matter with your father?" I questioned, +as we whirled along towards Blackfriars Bridge, in accordance with her +directions.</p> + +<p>"It is an attack of inward inflammation," she replied. "He was taken +ill suddenly last night after he got home from the office, and he has +been in great agony all day. This evening he grew better; the pain +almost subsided; but the doctor said that might not prove a favourable +symptom. My father asked for the truth—whether he was dying, and the +answer was that he might be. Then my father grew terribly uneasy in +mind, and said he must see you if possible before he died—and sent me +to ascertain, sir, whether you had returned home."</p> + +<p>The cab drew up at a house in a side street, a little beyond +Blackfriars Bridge. We entered, and Miss Lennard left me in the front +sitting-room. The remnants of faded gentility were strangely mixed +with bareness and poverty. Poor Lennard was a gentleman born and bred, +but had been reduced<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> by untoward misfortune. Trifling ornaments stood +about; "antimacassars" were thrown over the shabby chairs. Miss +Lennard had gone upstairs, but came down quickly.</p> + +<p>"It is the door on the left, sir, on the second landing," said she, +putting a candle in my hand. "My father is anxiously expecting you, +but says I am not to go up."</p> + +<p>It was a small landing, nothing in front of me but a bare white-washed +wall, and <i>two</i> doors to the left. I blundered into the wrong one. A +night-cap border turned on the bed, and a girlish face looked up from +under it.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me. I am in search of Mr. Lennard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is the next room. But—sir! wait a moment. Oh, wait, wait!"</p> + +<p>I turned to her in surprise, and she put up two thin white hands in an +imploring attitude. "Is it anything bad? Have you come to take him?"</p> + +<p>"To take him! What do you mean?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[102]</span></p> + +<p>"You are not a sheriff's officer?"</p> + +<p>I smiled at her troubled countenance. "I am Mr. Strange—come to see +how he is."</p> + +<p>Down fell her hands peacefully. "Sir, I beg your pardon: thank you for +telling me. I know papa has sometimes been in apprehension, and I lie +here and fear things till I am stupid. A strange step on the stairs, +or a strange knock at the door, sets me shaking."</p> + +<p>The next room was the right one, and Lennard was lying in it on a low +bed; his face looked ghastly, his eyes wildly anxious.</p> + +<p>"Lennard," I said, "I am sorry to hear of your illness. What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Strange; sit down," he added, pointing to a chair, +which I drew near. "It is an attack of inflammation: the pain has +ceased now, but the doctor says it is an uncertain symptom: it may be +for better, or it may be for worse. If the latter, I have not many +hours to live."</p> + +<p>"What brought it on?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know: unless it was that I<span class="pagenum">[103]</span> drank a draught of cold water +when I was hot. I have not been very strong for some time, and a +little thing sends me into a violent heat. I had a long walk, four +miles, and I made nearly a run of it half the way, being pressed for +time. When I got in, I asked Leah for some water, and drank two +glasses of it, one after the other. It seemed to strike a chill to me +at the time."</p> + +<p>"It was at the office, then. Four miles! Why did you not ride?"</p> + +<p>"It was not your business I was out on, sir; it was my own. But +whether that was the cause or not, the illness came on, and it cannot +be remedied now. If I am to die, I must die; God is over all: but I +cannot go without making a confession to you. How the fear of death's +approach alters a man's views and feelings!" he went on, in a +different tone. "Yesterday, had I been told I must make this +confession to you, I should have said, Let me die, rather; but it +appears to me now to be an imperative duty, and one I must nerve +myself to perform."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[104]</span></p> + +<p>Lennard lay on his pillow, and looked fixedly at me, and I not less +fixedly at him. What, in the shape of a "confession," could he have to +make to me? He had been managing clerk in Mr. Brightman's office long +before I was in it, a man of severe integrity, and respected by all.</p> + +<p>"The night Mr. Brightman died," he began under his panting breath, +"the bag of gold was missing—George Coney's. You remember it."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I took it."</p> + +<p>Was Lennard's mind wandering? He was no more likely to take gold than +I was. I sat still, gazing at him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was I who took it, sir. Will you hear the tale?"</p> + +<p>A deep breath, and the drawing of my chair closer to his bedside, was +my only answer.</p> + +<p>"You are a young man, Mr. Strange. I have taken an interest in you +since you first came, a lad, into the office, and were under<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> my +authority—Charles, do this; Charles, do the other. Not that I have +shown any especial interest, for outwardly I am cold and +undemonstrative; but I saw what you were, and liked you in my heart. +You are a young man yet, I say; but, liking you, hoping for your +welfare, I pray Heaven that it may never be your fate, in after-life, +to be trammelled with misfortunes as I have been. For me they seem to +have had no end, and the worst of them in later years has been that +brought upon me by an undutiful and spendthrift son."</p> + +<p>In a moment there flashed into my mind <i>my</i> later trouble in Tom +Heriot: I seemed to be comparing the one with the other. "Have you +been trammelled with an undutiful son?" I said aloud.</p> + +<p>"I have been, and am," replied Lennard. "It has been my later cross. +The first was that of losing my property and position in life, for, as +you know, Mr. Strange, I was born and reared a gentleman. The last +cross has been Leonard—that is his name,<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> Leonard Lennard—and it has +been worse than the first, for it has kept us <i>down</i>, and in a +perpetual ferment for years. It has kept us poor amongst the poor: my +salary, as you know, is a handsome one, but it has chiefly to be +wasted upon him."</p> + +<p>"What age is he?"</p> + +<p>"Six-and-twenty yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Then you are not forced to supply his extravagance, to find money for +his faults and follies. You are not obliged to let him keep you down."</p> + +<p>"By law, no," sighed poor Lennard. "But these ill-doing sons sometimes +entwine themselves around your very heartstrings; far rather would you +suffer and suffer than not ward off the ill from them. He has tried +his hand at many occupations, but remains at none; the result is +always trouble: and yet his education and intellect, his good looks +and perfect, pleasant manners, would fit him for almost any +responsible position in life. But he is reckless. Get into what scrape +he would, whether of debt,<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> or worse, here he was sure of a refuge and +a welcome; I received him, his mother and sisters loved him. One of +them is bedridden," he added, in an altered tone.</p> + +<p>"I went first by mistake into the next room. I probably saw her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's Maria. It is a weakness that has settled in her legs; +some chronic affection, I suppose; and there she has lain for ten +months. With medical attendance and sea air she might be restored, +they tell me, but I can provide neither. Leonard's claims have been +too heavy."</p> + +<p>"But should you waste means on him that ought to be applied to her +necessities?" I involuntarily interrupted.</p> + +<p>He half raised himself on his elbow, and the effort proved how weak he +was, and his eyes and his voice betrayed a strange earnestness. "When +a son, whom you love better than life itself, has to be saved from the +consequences of his follies, from prison, from worse disgrace even +than that, other interests are forgotten, let them be what they may.<span class="pagenum">[108]</span> +Silent, patient needs give way to obtrusive wants that stare you in +the face, and that may bear fear and danger in their train. Mr. +Strange, you can imagine this."</p> + +<p>"I do. It must ever be so."</p> + +<p>"The pecuniary wants of a young man, such as my son is, are as the cry +of the horse-leech. Give! give! Leonard mixes sometimes with distant +relatives, young fellows of fashion, who are moving in a sphere far +above our present position, although I constantly warn him not to do +it. One of these wants, imperative and to be provided for in some way +or other, occurred the beginning of February in this year. How I +managed to pay it I can hardly tell, but it stripped me of all the +money I could raise, and left me with some urgent debts upon me. The +rent was owing, twelve months the previous December, and some of the +tradespeople were becoming clamorous. The landlord, discerning the +state of affairs, put in a distress, terrifying poor Maria, whose +illness had then not very<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> long set in, almost to death. That I had +the means to pay the man out you may judge, when I tell you that we +had not the money to buy a joint of meat or a loaf of bread."</p> + +<p>Lennard paused to wipe the dew from his brow.</p> + +<p>"Maria was in bed, wanting comforts; Charlotte was worn out with +apprehension; Leonard was away again, and we had nothing. Of my wife I +will not speak: of delicate frame and delicately reared, the +long-continued troubles have reduced her to a sort of dumb apathy. No +credit anywhere, and a distress in for rent! In sheer despair, I +resolved to disclose part of my difficulty to Mr. Brightman, and ask +him to advance me a portion of my next quarter's salary. I hated to do +it. A reduced gentleman is, perhaps, over-fastidious. I know I have +been so, and my pride rose against it. In health, I could not have +spoken to you, Mr. Charles, as I am now doing. I went on, +shilly-shallying for a few days. On the Saturday morning Charlotte +came to me<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> with a whisper: 'That man in the house says if the rent is +not paid to-night, the things will be taken out and sold on Monday: it +is the very last day they'll give.' I went to the office, my mind made +up at length, and thinking what I should say to Mr. Brightman. Should +I tell him part of the truth, or should I urge some plea, foreign to +it? It was an unusually busy day: I dare say you remember it, Mr. +Charles, for it was that of Mr. Brightman's sudden death. Client after +client called, and no opportunity offered for my speaking to him in +private. I waited for him to come down, on his way out in the evening, +thinking I would speak to him then. He did not come, and when the +clients left, and I went upstairs, I found he was stopping in town to +see Sir Edmund Clavering. I should have spoken to him then, but you +were present. He told me to look in again in the course of the +evening, and I hoped I might find him alone then. You recollect the +subsequent events of the night, sir?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[111]</span></p> + +<p>"I shall never forget them."</p> + +<p>"When I came in, as he directed me, between seven and eight o'clock, +there occurred that flurry with Leah—the cause of which I never knew. +She said Mr. Brightman was alone, and I went up. He was lying in your +room, Mr. Charles; had fallen close to his own desk, the deep drawer +of which stood open. I tried to raise him; I sprinkled water on his +face, but I saw that he was dead. On the desk lay a small canvas bag. +I took it up and shook it. Why, I do not know, for I declare that no +wrong thought had then come into my mind. He appeared to have +momentarily put it out of the drawer, probably in search of something, +for his private cheque-book and the key of the iron safe, that I knew +were always kept in the drawer, lay near it. I shook the bag, and its +contents sounded like gold. I opened it, and counted thirty +sovereigns. Mr. Brightman was dead. I could not apply to him; and yet +money I must have. The temptation upon me was strong, and I<span class="pagenum">[112]</span> took it. +Don't turn away from me, sir. There are some temptations too strong to +be resisted by a man in his necessities."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am not turning from you. The temptation was overwhelmingly +great."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," continued the sick man, "the devil was near me then. I put +the key and the cheque-book inside, and I locked the drawer, and +placed the keys in Mr. Brightman's pocket, where he kept them, and I +leaped down the stairs with the bag in my hand. It was all done in a +minute or two of time, though it seems long in relating it. Where +should I put the bag, now I had it? Upon my person? No: it might be +missed directly, and inquired for. I was in a tumult—scarcely sane, I +believe—and I dashed into the clerks' office, and, taking off the lid +of the coal-box, put it there. Then I tore off for a surgeon. You know +the rest. When I returned with him you were there; and the next +visitor, while we were standing round Mr. Brightman, was George Coney, +after his bag of money. I never<span class="pagenum">[113]</span> shall forget the feeling when you +motioned me to take Mr. Brightman's keys from his pocket to get the +bag out of the drawer. Or when—after it was missed—you took me with +you to search for it, in the very office where it was, and I moved the +coal-box under the desk. Had you only happened to lift the lid, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"When the search was over, and I went home, I had put the bag in my +breastpocket. The gold saved me from immediate trouble, but——"</p> + +<p>"You have sent it back to me, you know—the bag and the thirty +pounds."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I sent it back—tardily. I <i>could</i> not do it earlier, though the +crime coloured my days with remorse, and I never knew a happy moment +until it was restored. But Leonard had been back again, and +restoration was not easy."</p> + +<p>Miss Lennard opened the door at this juncture. "Papa, the doctor is +here. Can he come up? He says he ought to see you."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[114]</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, he must come up," I interposed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Charlotte," said Lennard.</p> + +<p>The doctor came in, and stood looking at his patient, after putting a +few questions. "Well," said he, "you are better; you will get over +it."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so?" I asked joyfully.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly I do, now. It has been a sharp twinge, but the danger's +over. You see, when pain suddenly ceases, mortification sometimes sets +in, and I could not be sure. But you will do this time, Mr. Lennard."</p> + +<p>Lennard had little more to say; and, soon after the doctor left, I +prepared to follow him.</p> + +<p>"There's a trifle of salary due to me, Mr. Strange," he whispered; +"that which has been going on since Quarter Day. I suppose you will +not keep it from me?"</p> + +<p>"Keep it from you! No. Why should I? Do you want it at once? You can +have it if you do."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[115]</span></p> + +<p>Leonard looked up wistfully. "You do not think of taking me back +again? You will not do that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will. You and I shall understand each other better than ever +now."</p> + +<p>The tears welled up to his eyes. He laid his other hand—I had taken +one—across his face. I bent over him with a whisper.</p> + +<p>"What has passed to-night need never be recurred to between us; and I +shall never speak of it to another. We all have our trials and +troubles, Lennard. A very weighty one is lying now upon me, though it +is not absolutely my own—<i>brought</i> upon me, you see, as yours was. +And it is worse than yours."</p> + +<p>"Worse!" he exclaimed, looking at me.</p> + +<p>"More dangerous in its possible consequences. Now mind," I broke off, +shaking him by the hand, "you are not to attempt to come to Essex +Street until you are quite strong enough for it. But I shall see you +here again on Monday, for I have two or three questions to ask you as +to some of the<span class="pagenum">[116]</span> matters that have transpired during my absence. +Good-night, Lennard; keep up a good heart; you will outlive your +trials yet."</p> + +<p>And when I left him he was fairly sobbing.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="150" height="173" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[117]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i012a.jpg" width="400" height="107" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="h3">DANGER.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-m.jpg" width="80" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">M</span>RS. BRIGHTMAN</b> was certainly improving. When I reached her house with +Annabel on the following day, Sunday, between one and two o'clock, she +was bright and cheerful, and came towards the entrance-gates to meet +us. She, moreover, displayed interest in all we told her of our +honeymoon in the Isle of Wight, and of the places we had visited. +Besides that, I noticed that she took water with her dinner.</p> + +<p>"If she'll only keep to it," said Hatch, joining me in her +unceremonious fashion as I strolled in the garden later, smoking a +cigar.<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> "Yes, Mr. Charles, she's trying hard to put bad habits away +from her, and I hope she'll be able to do it."</p> + +<p>"I hope and trust she will!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Brightman went back to Hastings the day after the wedding-day," +continued Hatch; "but before she started she had a long interview with +my mistress, they two shut up in missis's bedroom alone. For pretty +nigh all the rest of the day, my missis was in tears, and she has not +touched nothing strong since."</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all!" I cried in surprise, for it seemed too good to be +true. "Why, that's a fortnight ago! More than a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is so, Mr. Charles. Not but that missis has tried as long +and as hard before now—and failed again."</p> + +<p>It was Monday evening before I could find time to go round to +Lake's—and he did not come to me. He was at home, poring over some +difficult law case by lamp-light.</p> + +<p>"Been in court all day, Charley," he<span class="pagenum">[119]</span> cried. "Have not had a minute to +spare for you."</p> + +<p>"About Tom?" I said, as I sat down. "You seemed to say that you had +more unpleasantness to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Aye, about Tom," he replied, turning his chair to face me, and +propping his right elbow upon his table. "Well, I fear Tom is in a bad +way."</p> + +<p>"In health, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I do. His cough is frightful, and he is more like a skeleton than a +living being. I should say the illness has laid hold of his lungs."</p> + +<p>"Has he had a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No. Asks how he is to have one. Says a doctor might (they were his +own words) smell a rat. Doctors are not called in to the class of +people lodging in that house unless they are dying: and it would soon +be seen by any educated man that Tom is not of <i>their</i> kind. My +opinion is, that a doctor could not do him much good now," added Lake.</p> + +<p>He looked at me as he spoke; to see, I<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> suppose, whether I took in his +full meaning. I did—unhappily.</p> + +<p>"And what do you think he is talking of now, Charles?" returned Lake. +"Of giving himself up."</p> + +<p>"Giving himself up! What, to justice?"</p> + +<p>Lake nodded. "You know what Tom Heriot is—not much like other +people."</p> + +<p>"But why should he think of <i>that</i>? It would end everything."</p> + +<p>"I was on the point of asking him why," said Lake. "Whether I should +have had a satisfactory answer, I cannot say; I should think he could +not give one; but we were interrupted. Miss Betsy Lee came in."</p> + +<p>"Who? What?" I cried, starting from my chair.</p> + +<p>"The young lady you told me of who lives in Lambeth—Miss Betsy Lee. +Sit down, Charley. She came over to bring him a pot of jelly."</p> + +<p>"Then he has let those people know where he is, Lake! Is he mad?"</p> + +<p>"Mad as to carelessness," assented Lake.<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> "I tell you Tom Heriot's not +like other people."</p> + +<p>"He will leave himself no chance."</p> + +<p>"She seems to be a nice, modest little woman," said Lake; "and I'll go +bail her visit was quite honest and proper. She had made this jelly, +she told Tom, and she and her father hoped it would serve to +strengthen him, and her father sent his respects, and hopes to hear +that Captain Strange was feeling better."</p> + +<p>"Well, Lake, the matter will get beyond me," I said in despair. "Only +a word dropped, innocently, by these people in some dangerous quarter, +and where will Tom be?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it," said Lake. "Policeman Wren is acquainted with them."</p> + +<p>"Did you leave the girl there?"</p> + +<p>"No. Some rough man came into the room smoking, and sat down, +evidently with the intention of making an evening of it; he lives in +the same house and has made acquaintance with Tom, or Tom with him.<span class="pagenum">[122]</span> +So I said good-night, and the girl did the same, and we went down +together. 'Don't you think Captain Strange looks very ill, sir?' said +she as we got into the street. 'I'm afraid he does,' I answered. 'I'm +sure he does, sir,' she said. 'It's a woeful pity that somebody should +be coming upon him for a big back debt just now, obliging him to keep +quiet in a low quarter!' So that is what Tom has told his Lambeth +friends," concluded Lake.</p> + +<p>Lake gave me the address in Southwark, and I determined to see Tom the +next evening. In that, however, I was disappointed. One of our oldest +clients, passing through London from the country on his way to Pau, +summoned me to him on the Tuesday evening.</p> + +<p>But I went on Wednesday. The stars were shining overhead as I +traversed the silent street, making out Tom's lodgings. He had only an +attic bedroom, I found, and I went up to it. He was partly lying +across the bed when I entered.</p> + +<p>I almost thought even then that I saw<span class="pagenum">[123]</span> death written in his face. +White, wan, shadowy it looked; much changed, much worn from what it +was three weeks before. But it lighted up with a smile, as he got up +to greet me.</p> + +<p>"Halloa, Charley!" cried he. "Best congratulations! Made yourself into +a respectable man. All good luck to yourself and madam. I'm thinking +of coming to Essex Street to pay the wedding visit."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said I, "but do be serious. My coming here is a hazard, +as you know, Tom; don't let us waste in nonsense the few minutes I may +stay."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" cried Tom. "Why, do you think I should be afraid to +venture to Essex Street?—what nonsense is there in that? Look here, +Charley!"</p> + +<p>From some box in a dark corner of the room, he got out an old big blue +cloak lined with red, and swung it on. The collar, made of some black +curly wool, stood up above his ears. He walked about the small room, +exhibiting himself.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[124]</span></p> + +<p>"Would the sharpest officer in Scotland Yard take me for anyone but +old Major Carlen?" laughed he. "I'm sure I look like his double in +this elegant cloak. It was his, once."</p> + +<p>"His! What, Major Carlen's?"</p> + +<p>"Just so. He made me a present of it."</p> + +<p>"You have seen him, then!"</p> + +<p>"I sent for him," answered Tom, putting off the old cloak and coughing +painfully after his recent exertion. "I thought I should like to see +the old fellow; I was not afraid he'd betray me; Carlen would not do +that; and I dropped a quiet note to his club, taking the chance of his +being in town."</p> + +<p>"Taking the chance! Suppose he had not been in town, Tom, and the note +had fallen into wrong hands—some inquisitive waiter, let us say, who +chose to open it?"</p> + +<p>"Well—what then? A waiter would only turn up his nose at Mr. Dominic +Turk, the retired schoolmaster, and close up the note again for the +Major."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[125]</span></p> + +<p>"And what would Major Carlen make of Mr. Dominic Turk?"</p> + +<p>"Major Carlen would know my handwriting, Charley."</p> + +<p>"And he came in answer to it?"</p> + +<p>"He came: and blew me up in a loud and awful fashion; seemed to be +trying to blow the ceiling off. First, he threatened to go out and +bring in the police; next, he vowed he would go straight to Blanche +and tell her all. Finally, he calmed down and promised to send me one +of his cast-off cloaks to disguise me, in case I had to go into the +streets. Isn't it a beauty?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Tom, if you can be serious for once, what is going to +become of you, and what is to be done? I've come to know."</p> + +<p>"Wish I could tell you; don't know myself," said he lightly.</p> + +<p>"What was it you said to Lake about giving yourself up?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word of honour, Charley, I sometimes feel inclined to do it. +I couldn't<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> be much worse off in prison than I am here. Sick and sad, +lad, needing comforts that can't be had in such a place as this; no +one to see after me, no one to attend to me. Anyway, it would end the +suspense."</p> + +<p>I sat turning things about in my mind. It all seemed so full of +hazard. That he must be got away from his present quarters was +certain. I told him so.</p> + +<p>"But you are so recklessly imprudent, you see, Tom," I observed, "and +it increases the risk. You have had Miss Betsy Lee here."</p> + +<p>Tom flung himself back with a laugh. "She has been here twice, the +good little soul. The old man came once."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you might as well take up your standing to-morrow on +the top of the Monument, and proclaim yourself to the public at large? +You try me greatly, Tom!"</p> + +<p>"Try you because I see the Lees! Come, Charley, that's good. They are +as safe as you are."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[127]</span></p> + +<p>"In intention perhaps. How came you to let them know you were to be +found here?"</p> + +<p>"How came I?" he carelessly rejoined. "Let's see? Oh, I remember. One +evening when I was hipped, fit to die of it all and of the confinement +to this wretched room, I strolled out. My feet took me to the old +ground—Lambeth—and to Lee's. He chanced to see me, and invited me +in. Over some whisky and water, I opened out my woes to them; not of +course the truth, but as near as might be. Told them of a curmudgeon +creditor of past days that I feared was coming down upon me, so that I +had to be in close hiding for a bit."</p> + +<p>"But you need not have told them where."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they'll be cautious. Miss Betsy was so much struck with my cough +and my looks that she said she should make some jelly for me, of the +kind she used to make for her mother before she died; and the good +little girl has brought me some over<span class="pagenum">[128]</span> here twice in a jar. They are +all right, Charley."</p> + +<p>It was of no use contending with him. After sitting a little time +longer, I promised that he should shortly see me again or hear from +me, and took my departure. Full of doubt and trouble, I wanted to be +alone, to decide, if possible, what was to be done.</p> + +<p>What to do about Tom I knew not. That he required nursing and +nourishment, and that he ought to be moved where he could have it, was +indisputable. But—the risk!</p> + +<p>Three-parts of the night I lay awake, thinking of different plans. +None seemed feasible. In the morning I was hardly fit for my day's +work, and set to it with unsteady nerves and a worried brain. If I had +only someone to consult with, some capable man who would help me! I +did think of Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar; but I knew he would not like +it, would probably refuse advice. One who now and again sat in the +position of judge, sentencing men himself, would<span class="pagenum">[129]</span> scarcely choose to +aid in concealing an escaped convict.</p> + +<p>I was upstairs in the dining-room at one o'clock, taking luncheon with +Annabel, when the door was thrown back by Watts and there loomed into +the room the old blue cloak with the red lining. For a moment I +thought it was the one I had seen the past night in Southwark, and my +heart leaped into my mouth. Watts's quiet announcement dispelled the +alarm.</p> + +<p>"Major Carlen, sir."</p> + +<p>The Major unclasped his cloak after shaking hands with us, and flung +it across the sofa, just as Tom had flung his on the bed. I pointed to +the cold beef, and asked if he would take some.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind if I do, Charles," said he, drawing a chair to the table: +"I'm too much bothered just now to eat as I ought. A pretty kettle of +fish this is, lad, that you and I have had brought upon us!"</p> + +<p>I gave him a warning look, glancing at Annabel. The old fellow +understood me<span class="pagenum">[130]</span>—she had not been trusted with the present trouble. +That Tom Heriot had effected his escape, Annabel knew; that it was +expected he would make his way home, she knew; but that he had long +been here, and was now close at hand, I had never told her. Why +inflict upon her the suspense I had to endure?</p> + +<p>"Rather a chilly day for the time of year," observed the Major, as he +coughed down his previous words. "Just a little, Mrs. Strange; +underdone, please."</p> + +<p>Annabel, who carved at luncheon-time, helped him carefully. "And what +kettle of fish is it that you and Charles are troubled with, Major?" +she inquired, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Ah—aw—don't care to say much about it," answered the Major, more +ready at an excuse than I should have deemed him. "Blanche is up to +her ears in anger against Level; says she'll get a separation from +him, and all that kind of nonsense. But you and I may as well not make +it our business, Charles, I expect: better let married folk fight out +their own battles. And have you<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> heard from your Aunt Lucy yet, Mrs. +Strange?"</p> + +<p>So the subject was turned off for the time; but down below, in my +office, the Major went at it tooth and nail, talking himself into a +fever. All the hard names in the Major's vocabulary were hurled at +Tom. His original sin was disgraceful enough, never to be condoned, +said the Major; but his present imprudent procedure was worse, and +desperately wicked.</p> + +<p>"Are Blanche and her husband still at variance?" I asked, when he had +somewhat cooled down on the other subject.</p> + +<p>"They just are, and are likely to remain so," growled the Major. "It's +Blanche's fault. Men have ways of their own, and she's a little fool +for wishing to interfere with his. Don't let your wife begin that, +Charles; it's my best advice to you. You are laughing, young fellow! +Well, perhaps you and Level don't row in quite the same boat; but you +can't foresee the shoals you may pitch into. No one can."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[132]</span></p> + +<p>We were interrupted by Lennard, who had come back on the previous day, +pale and pulled down by his sharp attack of illness, but the same +efficient man of business as ever. A telegram had been delivered, +which he could not deal with without me.</p> + +<p>"I'll be off, then," said the Major; "I suppose I'm only hindering +work. And I wish you well through your difficulties, Charles," he +added significantly. "I wish all of us well through them. Good-day, +Mr. Lennard."</p> + +<p>The Major was ready enough to wish <i>that</i>, but he could not suggest +any means by which it might be accomplished. I had asked him; and he +confessed himself incompetent to advise. "I should send him off to sea +in a whaling-boat and keep him there," was all the help he gave.</p> + +<p>Lennard stayed beyond time that evening, and was ready in my private +room to go over certain business with me that had transpired during my +own absence. I could not give the necessary attention to it, try as +earnestly<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> as I would: Tom and <i>his</i> business kept dancing in my brain +to the exclusion of other things. Lennard asked me whether I was ill.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered; "at least, not in body." And as I spoke, the thought +crossed me to confide the trouble to Lennard. He had seen too much +trouble himself not to be safe and cautious, and perhaps he might +suggest something.</p> + +<p>"Let Captain Heriot come to me," he immediately said. "He could not be +safer anywhere. Sometimes we let our drawing-room floor; it is vacant +now, and he can have it. My wife and my daughter Charlotte will attend +to his comforts and nurse him, if that may be, into health. It is the +best thing that can be done with him, Mr. Charles."</p> + +<p>I saw that it was, seeming to discern all the advantages of the +proposal at a grasp, and accepted it. We consulted as to how best to +effect Tom's removal, which Lennard himself undertook. I dropped a +hasty note<span class="pagenum">[134]</span> to "Mr. Turk" to prepare him to be in readiness the +following evening, and Lennard posted it when he went out. He had no +sooner gone, than the door of my private room slowly opened, and, +rather to my surprise, Leah appeared.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir, for presuming to disturb you here," she said; +"but I can't rest. There's some great trouble afloat; I've seen it in +your looks and ways, sir, ever since Sunday. Your face couldn't +deceive me when you were my little nursling, Master Charles, and it +can't deceive me now. Is it about Mr. Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, it is, Leah."</p> + +<p>Her face turned white. "He has not got himself taken, surely!"</p> + +<p>"No; it's not so bad as that—yet."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven for it!" she returned. "I knew it was him, and I'm all +in a twitter about him from morning till night. I can't sleep or eat +for dreading the news that any moment may bring of him. It seems to +me, Mr. Charles, that one must needs be for<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> ever in a twitter in this +world; before one trouble is mended, another turns up. No sooner am I +a bit relieved about poor Nancy, that unfortunate daughter of mine, +than there comes Mr. Tom."</p> + +<p>The relief that Leah spoke of was this: some relatives of Leah's +former husband, Nancy's father, had somehow got to hear of Nancy's +misfortunes. Instead of turning from her, they had taken her and her +cause in hand, and had settled her and her three children in a general +shop in Hampshire near to themselves, where she was already beginning +to earn enough for a good living. The man who was the cause of all the +mischief had emigrated, and meant never to return to Europe.</p> + +<p>And Leah had taken my advice in the matter, and disclosed all to +Watts. He was not in the least put out by it, as she had feared he +would be; only told her she was a simpleton for not having told him +before.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[136]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i013a.jpg" width="400" height="110" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">WITH MR. JONES</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-m-quote.jpg" width="95" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">"M</span>Y DEAR CHARLES</b>,—I particularly wish you to come to me. I want +some legal advice, and I would rather you acted for me than +anyone else. Come up this morning, please.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your affectionate sister,</p> + +<p class="author">"<span class="smcap">Blanche</span>."</p> + +<p>The above note, brought from Gloucester Place on Monday morning by one +of Lady Level's servants, reached me before ten o'clock. By the +dashing character of the handwriting, I judged that Blanche had not +been in the calmest temper when she penned it.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p> + +<p>"Is Lord Level at home?" I inquired of the man Sanders.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. His lordship went down to Marshdale yesterday evening. A +telegram came for him, and I think it was in consequence of that he +went."</p> + +<p>I wrote a few words to Blanche, telling her I would be with her as +soon as I could, and sent it by Sanders.</p> + +<p>But a lawyer's time is not always his own. One client after another +kept coming in that morning, as if on purpose; and it was half-past +twelve in the day when I reached Gloucester Place.</p> + +<p>The house in Gloucester Place was, and had been for some little time +now, entirely rented by Lord Level of Major Carlen. The Major, when in +London, had rooms in Seymour Street, but lived chiefly at his club.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship has gone out, sir," was Sanders's greeting to me, when +he answered my ring at the door-bell.</p> + +<p>"Gone out?"</p> + +<p>"Just gone," confirmed Major Carlen,<span class="pagenum">[138]</span> who was there, it seemed, and +came forward in the wake of Sanders. "Come in, Charles."</p> + +<p>He turned into the dining-room, and I after him. "Blanche ought to +have waited in," I remarked. "I have come up at the greatest +inconvenience."</p> + +<p>"She has gone off in a tantrum," cried the Major, lowering his voice +as he carefully closed the door and pushed a chair towards me, just as +if the house were still in his occupancy.</p> + +<p>"But where has she gone?" I asked, not taking the chair, but standing +with my elbow on the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>"Who's to know? To you, in Essex Street, I shouldn't wonder. She was +on the heights of impatience at your not coming."</p> + +<p>"Not to Essex Street, I think, Major. I should have seen her."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! There's fifty turnings and windings between this and Essex +Street, where you might miss one another; your cab taking the straight +way and she the crooked," retorted the Major. "When<span class="pagenum">[139]</span> Blanche gets her +back up, you can't easily put it down."</p> + +<p>"Something has gone contrary, I expect."</p> + +<p>"Nothing has gone contrary but herself," replied the Major, who seemed +in a cross and contrary mood on his own part. "Women are the very +deuce for folly."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it all about, sir? I suppose you can tell me?"</p> + +<p>The Major sat down in Lord Level's easy-chair, pushed back his cloak, +and prepared to explain.</p> + +<p>"What it's all about is just nothing, Charles; but so far as Madam +Blanche's version goes, it is this," said he. "They were about to sit +down, yesterday evening, to dinner—which they take on Sundays at five +o'clock (good, pious souls!), and limit their fare to roast beef and a +tart—when a telegram arrived from Marshdale. My lord seemed put out +about it; my lady was no doubt the same. 'I must go down at once, +Blanche,' said he, speaking on the spur of the moment. 'But why? +Where's the<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> need of it?' returned she. 'Surely there can be nothing +at Marshdale to call you away on Sunday and in this haste?' 'Yes,' +said he, 'there is; there's illness.' And then, Blanche says, he tried +to cough down the words, as if he had made a slip of the tongue. 'Who +is ill?' said Blanche. 'Let me see the telegram.' Level slid the +telegram into his pocket, and told her it was Mr. Edwards, the old +steward. Down he sat again at the table, swallowed a mouthful of beef, +sent Sanders to put up a few things in his small portmanteau, and was +off in a cab like the wind. Fact is," added the Major, "had he failed +to catch that particular train, he would not have got down at all, +being Sunday; and Sanders says that catching it must have been a near +shave for his lordship."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"No. This morning there was delivered here a letter for his lordship; +post-mark Marshdale, handwriting a certain Italian one that Blanche +has seen before. She has seen<span class="pagenum">[141]</span> the writer, too, it seems—a fair lady +called Nina. Blanche argues that as the letter came from Marshdale, +the lady must be at Marshdale, and she means to know without delay, +she says, who and what this damsel is, and what the tie may be that +binds her to Lord Level and gives her the right to pursue him, as she +does, and the power to influence his movements, and to be at her beck +and call. The probability is," added the shrewd Major, "that this +person wrote to him on the Saturday, but, being a foreigner, was not +aware that he would not receive her letter on Sunday morning. Finding +that he did not arrive at Marshdale on the Sunday, and the day getting +on, she despatched the telegram. That's how I make it out, Charles; I +don't know if I am right."</p> + +<p>"You think, then, that some Italian lady is at Marshdale?"</p> + +<p>"Sure of it," returned the Major. "I've heard of it before to-day. +Expect she lives there, making journeys to her own land between<span class="pagenum">[142]</span> +whiles, no doubt. The best and the worst of us get homesick."</p> + +<p>"You mean that she lives there in—in—well, in a manner not quite +orthodox, and that Lord Level connives at it?"</p> + +<p>"Connives at it!" echoed the old reprobate. "Why, he is at the top and +bottom of it. Level's a man of the world, always was, and does as the +world does. And that little ignorant fool, Blanche, ferrets out some +inkling of this, and goes and sets up a fuss! Level's as good a +husband to her as can be, and yet she's not content! Commend me to +foolish women! They are all alike!"</p> + +<p>In his indignation against women in general, Major Carlen rose from +his chair and began striding up and down the room. I was pondering on +what he had said to me.</p> + +<p>"What right have wives to rake up particulars of their husbands' +private affairs?" he demanded fiercely. "If Level does go off to +Marshdale for a few days' sojourn now and again, is it any business of +Blanche's<span class="pagenum">[143]</span> what he goes for, or what he does there, or whom he sees? +Suppose he chose to maintain a whole menagerie of—of—Italian monkeys +there, ought Blanche to interfere and make bones over it?"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"He does not offend her; he does not allow her to see that anything +exists to offend her: why, then, should she suspect this and suspect +that, and peep and peer after Level as if she were a detective told +off expressly to watch his movements?" continued the angry man. "Only +an ignorant girl would dream of doing it. I am sick of her folly."</p> + +<p>"Well now, Major Carlen, will you listen to me for a moment?" I said, +speaking quietly and calmly as an antidote to his heat. "I don't +believe this. I think you and Blanche are both mistaken."</p> + +<p>He brought himself to an anchor on the hearthrug, and stared at me +under his thick, grizzled eyebrows. "What is it that you don't +believe, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"This that you insinuate about Marshdale.<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> I have faith in Lord Level; +I like Lord Level; and I think you are misjudging him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" responded the Major. "I suppose you know what a wild +blade Level always was?"</p> + +<p>"In his early days he may have been. But you may depend upon it that +when he married he left his wild ways behind him."</p> + +<p>"All right, young Charles. And, upon my word, you are pretty near as +young in the world's depths as Blanche herself is," was the Major's +sarcastic remark. "Do you wish to tell me there's nothing up at +Marshdale, with all these mysterious telegrams to Level, and his +scampers back in answer? Come!"</p> + +<p>"I admit that there seems to be some mystery at Marshdale. Something +that we do not understand, and that Lord Level does not intend us to +understand; but I must have further proof before I can believe it is +of any such nature as you hint it, Major.<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> For a long time past, Lord +Level has appeared to me like a man in trouble; as if he had some +anxiety on his mind."</p> + +<p>"Well," acquiesced the Major equably, "and what can trouble a man's +mind more than the exactions of these foreign syrens? Let them be +Italian, or Spanish, or French—what you will—they'll worry your life +out of you in the long-run. What does that Italian girl do at +Marshdale?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say. For my own part I do not know that one is there. But if +she be, if there be a whole menagerie of Italian ladies there, as you +have just expressed it, Major——"</p> + +<p>"I said a menagerie of monkeys," he growled.</p> + +<p>"Monkeys, then. But whether they be monkeys or whether they be ladies, +I feel convinced that Lord Level is acting no unworthy part—that he +is loyal to his wife."</p> + +<p>"You had better tell her so," nodded the Major; "perhaps she'll +believe you. I told<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> her the opposite. I told her that when women +marry gay and attractive men, they must look out for squalls, and +learn to shut their eyes a bit in going through life. I bade her +bottle up her fancies, and let Marshdale and her husband alone, and +not show herself a simpleton before the public."</p> + +<p>"What did she say to that?"</p> + +<p>"Say? It was that piece of advice which raised the storm. She burst +out of the room like a maniac, declaring she wouldn't remain in it to +listen to me. The next thing was, I heard the street-door bang, and +saw my lady go out, putting on her gloves as she went. You came up two +minutes afterwards."</p> + +<p>I was buried in thought again. He stood staring at me, as if I had no +business to have any thought.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Major: one thing strikes me forcibly: the very fact of +Lord Level allowing these telegrams to come to him openly is enough to +prove that matters are not as you and Blanche suspect. If——"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[147]</span></p> + +<p>"How can a telegram come secretly?" interrupted the Major.</p> + +<p>"He would take care that they did not come at all—to his house."</p> + +<p>"Oh, would he?" cried the old reprobate. "I should like to know how he +could hinder it if any she-fiend chooses to send them."</p> + +<p>"Rely upon it he would hinder it. Level is not one to be coerced +against his will by either man or woman. Have you any idea how long +Blanche will remain out?"</p> + +<p>"Just as much as you have, Charley. She may remain away till night, +for all I know."</p> + +<p>It was of no use, then, my staying longer; and time, that day, was +almost as precious to me as gold. Major Carlen threw on his cloak, and +we went out together.</p> + +<p>"I should not wonder if my young lady has gone to Seymour Street," +remarked the Major. "The thought has just occurred to me."</p> + +<p>"To your lodgings, you mean?" I asked, thinking it very unlikely.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[148]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes; Mrs. Guy is there. The poor old thing arrived from Jersey on +Saturday. She has come over on her usual errand—to consult the +doctors; grows more ridiculously fanciful as she grows older. You +might just look in upon her now, Charles; it's close by: and then +you'll see whether Blanche is there or not."</p> + +<p>I spared a few minutes for it. Poor Mrs. Guy looked very poorly +indeed; but she was meek and mild as ever, and burst into tears as I +greeted her. Her ailments I promised to go and hear all about another +time. Yes, Blanche was there. When we went in, she was laughing at +something Mrs. Guy had said, and her indignation seemed to have +subsided.</p> + +<p>I could not stay long. Blanche came out with me, thinking I should go +back with her to Gloucester Place. But that was impossible; I had +already wasted more time than I could well spare. Blanche was vexed.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you should not have gone out<span class="pagenum">[149]</span> when you were expecting me. +You know how very much I am occupied."</p> + +<p>"Papa vexed me, and drove me to it," she answered. "He said—oh, such +wicked things, that I could not and would not stay to listen. And all +the while I knew it was not that he believed them, but that he wanted +to make excuses for Lord Level."</p> + +<p>I did not contradict her. Let her retain, and she could, some little +veneration for her step-father.</p> + +<p>"Charles, I want to have a long conversation with you, so you must +come to me as soon as you can," she said. "I mean to have a separation +from my husband; perhaps a divorce, and I want you to tell me how I +must proceed in it. I did think of applying to Jennings and Ward, Lord +Level's solicitors, but, perhaps, you will be best."</p> + +<p>I laughed. "You don't suppose, do you, Blanche, that Lord Level's +solicitors would act for you against him."</p> + +<p>"Now, Charles, you are speaking lightly; you are making game of me. +Why do you<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> laugh? I can tell you it is more serious than you may +think for! and I am serious. I have talked of this for a long time, +and now I <i>will</i> act. How shall I begin?"</p> + +<p>"Do not begin at all, Blanche," I said, with earnestness. "<i>Do +nothing.</i> Were your father living—were your mother living, they would +both give you this advice—and this is not the first time I have +enjoined it on you. Ah, my dear, you do not know—you little guess +what misery to the wife such a climax as this which you propose would +involve."</p> + +<p>Blanche had turned to the railings round the interior of Portman +Square, and halted there, apparently looking at the shrubs. Her eyes +were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"On the other hand, Charles, you do not know, you cannot guess, what I +have to bear—what a misery it makes of my life."</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i> of the facts that make the misery?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I am."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[151]</span></p> + +<p>"I think not, Blanche. I think you are mistaken."</p> + +<p>She turned to me in surprise. "But I <i>can't</i> be mistaken," she said. +"How can I be? If Lord Level does not go to Marshdale to—to—to see +people, what does he go for?"</p> + +<p>"He may go for something quite different. My dear, I have more +confidence in your husband than you have, and I think you are wrong. I +must be off; I've not another moment; but these are my last words to +you, Blanche.—Take no action. Be still. <i>Do nothing.</i>"</p> + +<p>By half-past four o'clock, the most pressing of my work was over for +the day, and then I took a cab to Lincoln's Inn to see Mr. Serjeant +Stillingfar. He had often said to me, good old uncle that he was: +"Come to me always, Charles, when you are in any legal doubt or +difficulty, or deem that my opinion may be of use to you." I was in +one of those difficulties now. Some remarkably troublesome business +had been laid<span class="pagenum">[152]</span> before me by a client; I could not see my way in it at +all, and was taking it to Serjeant Stillingfar.</p> + +<p>The old chambers were just as they used to be; as they were on the day +which the reader has heard of, when I saw them for the first time. +Running up the stairs, there sat a clerk at the desk in the narrow +room, where young Lake, full of impudence, had sat that day, Mr. +Jones's empty place beside it now, as it was then.</p> + +<p>"Is the Serjeant in?" I asked the clerk.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; he's not out of Court yet. Mr. Jones is in."</p> + +<p>I went on to the inner room. Old Jones, the Serjeant's own especial +clerk, was writing at his little desk in the corner. Nothing was +changed; not even old Jones himself. He was not, to appearance, a day +older, and not an ounce bigger. Lake used to tell him he would make +his fortune if he went about the country in a caravan and called +himself a consumptive lamp-post.</p> + +<p>"My uncle is not back from Court, Graham<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> says," I observed to the +clerk, after shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," he answered. "I don't think he'll be long. Sit down, Mr. +Strange."</p> + +<p>I took the chair I had taken that first day years ago, and waited. Mr. +Jones finished the writing he was about, arranged his papers, and then +came and stood with his back to the fire, having kept his quill in his +hand. It must be a very hot day indeed which did not see a fire in +that grate.</p> + +<p>"If the Serjeant is not back speedily, I think I must open my business +to you, and get your opinion, Mr. Jones," I said. "I dare say you +could give me one as well as he."</p> + +<p>"Some complicated case that you can't quite manage?" he rejoined.</p> + +<p>"It's the most complicated, exasperating case I nearly ever had +brought to me," I answered. "I think it is a matter more for a +detective officer to deal with than a solicitor. If Serjeant +Stillingfar says the same, I shall throw it up."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[154]</span></p> + +<p>"Curious things, some of those detective cases," remarked Mr. Jones, +gently waving his pen.</p> + +<p>"They are. I wouldn't have to deal with them, <i>as</i> a detective, for +the world. Shall I relate this case to you?"</p> + +<p>He took out his watch and looked at it. "Better wait a bit longer, Mr. +Charles. I expect the Serjeant every minute now."</p> + +<p>"Don't you wonder that my uncle continues to work?" I cried presently. +"He is old now. <i>I</i> should retire."</p> + +<p>"He is sixty-five. If you were not young yourself, you would not call +that old."</p> + +<p>"Old enough, I should say, for work to be a labour to him."</p> + +<p>"A labour that he loves, and that he is as capable of performing as he +was twenty years ago," returned old Jones. "No, Mr. Charles, I do not +wonder that he should continue to work."</p> + +<p>"Did you know that he had been offered a judgeship?"</p> + +<p>Old Jones laughed a little. I thought it<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> was as much as to say there +was little which concerned the Serjeant that he did not know.</p> + +<p>"He has been offered a judgeship more than once—had it pressed upon +him, Mr. Charles. The last time was when Mr. Baron Charlton died."</p> + +<p>"Why! that is only a month or two ago!"</p> + +<p>"Just about nine weeks, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"And he declined it?"</p> + +<p>"He declines them all."</p> + +<p>"But what can be his motive? It would give him more rest than he +enjoys now——"</p> + +<p>"I don't altogether know that," interrupted the clerk. "The judges are +very much over-worked now. It would increase his responsibility; and +he is one to feel that, perhaps painfully."</p> + +<p>"You mean when he had to pass the dread sentence of death. A new judge +must always feel that at the beginning."</p> + +<p>"I heard one of our present judges say—it was in this room, too, Mr. +Charles—that<span class="pagenum">[156]</span> the first time he put on the black cap he never closed +his eyes the whole night after it. All the Bench are not so sensitive +as that, you know."</p> + +<p>A thought suddenly struck me. "Surely," I cried, "you do not mean that +<i>that</i> is the reason for my uncle's refusing a seat on the Bench!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. He'd get over that in time, as others do. Oh no! that has +nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>"Then I really cannot see what can have to do with it. It would give +him a degree of rest; yes, it would; and it would give him rank and +position."</p> + +<p>"But it would take from him half his income. Yes, just about half, I +reckon," repeated Mr. Jones, attentively regarding the feather of the +pen.</p> + +<p>"What of that? He must be putting by heaps and heaps of money—and he +has neither wife nor child to put by for."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the clerk, "that is just how we all are apt to judge of a +neighbour's<span class="pagenum">[157]</span> business. Would it surprise you very much, sir, if I told +you that the Serjeant is <i>not</i> putting by?"</p> + +<p>"But he must be putting by. Or what becomes of his money?"</p> + +<p>"He spends it, Mr. Charles."</p> + +<p>"<i>Spends it!</i> Upon what?"</p> + +<p>"Upon other people."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones looked at me from across the hearthrug, and I looked at him. +The assertion puzzled me.</p> + +<p>"It's true," he said with a nod. "You have not forgotten that great +calamity which happened some ten or twelve years ago, Mr. Charles? +That bank which went to pieces, and broke up homes and hearts? <i>Your</i> +money went in it."</p> + +<p>As if I could forget that!</p> + +<p>"The Serjeant's money, all he had then saved, went in it," continued +the clerk. "Mortifying enough, of course, but he was in the full swing +of his prosperity, and could soon have replaced it. What he could not +so easily replace, Mr. Charles, was the money<span class="pagenum">[158]</span> he had been the means +of placing in the bank belonging to other people, and which was lost. +He had done it for the best. He held the bank to be thoroughly sound +and prosperous; he could not have had more confidence in his own +integrity than he had in that bank; and he had counselled friends and +others whom he knew, who were not as well off as he was, to invest all +they could spare in it, believing he was doing them a kindness. +Instead of that, it ruined them."</p> + +<p>I thought I saw what the clerk was coming to. After a pause, he went +on:</p> + +<p>"It is these people that he has been working for, Mr. Charles. Some of +them he has entirely repaid—the money, you know, which he caused them +to lose. He considered it his duty to recompense them, so far as he +could; and to keep them, where they needed to be kept, until he had +effected that. For those who were better off and did not need present +help, he put money by as he could spare it, investing it in the funds<span class="pagenum">[159]</span> +in their name: I dare say your name is amongst them. That's what Mr. +Serjeant Stillingfar does with his income, and that's why he keeps on +working."</p> + +<p>I had never suspected this.</p> + +<p>"I believe it is almost accomplished now," said the clerk. "So nearly +that I thought he might, perhaps, have taken the judgeship on this +last occasion. But he did not. 'Just a few months longer in harness, +Jones,' he said to me, 'and then——?' So I reckon that we shall yet +see him on the Bench, Mr. Charles."</p> + +<p>"He must be very good."</p> + +<p>"Good!" echoed old Jones, with emotion; "he is made of goodness. There +are few people like him. He would help the whole world if he could. I +don't believe there's any man who has ever done a single service for +him of the most trifling nature but he would wish to place beyond the +reach of poverty. 'I've put a trifle by for you, Jones,' he said to me +the other day, 'in case you might be at a loss for another such place<span class="pagenum">[160]</span> +as this when my time's over.' And when I tried to thank him——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones broke down. Bringing the quill pen under his eyes, as if he +suddenly caught sight of a flaw thereon, I saw a drop of water fall on +to it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Charles, he said that to me. It has taken a load from my +mind. When a man is on the downhill of life and is not sure of his +future, he can't help being anxious. The Serjeant has paid me a +liberal salary, as you may well guess, but he knows that it has not +been in my power to put by a fraction of it. 'You are too generous +with your money, Serjeant,' I said to him one day, a good while ago. +'Ah no, Jones, not at all,' he answered. 'God has prospered me so +marvellously in these later years, what can I do but strive to prosper +others?' Those were his very words."</p> + +<p>And with these last words of Jones's our conference came to an end. +The door was abruptly thrown open by Graham to admit the Serjeant. Mr. +Jones helped him off with<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> his wig and gown, and handed him the little +flaxen top that he wore when not on duty. Then Jones, leaving the room +for a few moments, came back with a glass of milk, which he handed to +his master.</p> + +<p>"Would not a glass of wine do you more good, uncle?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No, lad; not so much. A glass of milk after a hard day's work in +Court refreshes me. I never touch wine except at a dinner. I take a +little then; not much."</p> + +<p>Sitting down together when Mr. Jones had again left us, I opened my +business to the Serjeant as concisely as possible. He listened +attentively, but made no remark until the end.</p> + +<p>"Now go over it all again, Charles." I did so: and this second time I +was repeatedly interrupted by remarks or questions. After that we +discussed the case.</p> + +<p>"I cannot see any reason why you should not take up the matter," he +said, when he had given it a little silent consideration. "I do not +look upon it quite as you do; I think<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> you have formed a wrong +judgment. It is intricate at present; I grant you that; but if you +proceed in the manner I have suggested, you will unravel it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Uncle Stillingfar. I can never thank you enough for all +your kindness to me."</p> + +<p>"Were you so full of anxiety over this case?" he asked, as we were +shaking hands, and I was about to leave. "You look as though you had a +weight of it on your brow."</p> + +<p>"And so I have, uncle; but not about this case. Something nearer +home."</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> it?" he returned, looking at me.</p> + +<p>"It is—— Perhaps I had better not tell it you."</p> + +<p>"I understand," he slowly said. "Tom Heriot, I suppose. Why does he +not get away?"</p> + +<p>"He is too ill for that at present: confined to his room and his bed. +Of course, he does not run quite so great a risk as he<span class="pagenum">[163]</span> did when he +persisted in parading the streets, but danger is always imminent."</p> + +<p>"He ought to end the danger by getting away. Very ill, is he?"</p> + +<p>"So ill that I think danger will soon be all at an end in another way; +it certainly will be unless he rallies."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with him?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot help fearing that consumption has set in."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! Oh, Charles, how that fine young man has spoilt his +life! Consumption?—Wait a bit—let me think," broke off the Serjeant. +"Why, yes, I remember now; it was consumption that Colonel Heriot's +first wife died of—Tom's mother."</p> + +<p>"Tom said so the last time I saw him."</p> + +<p>"Ah. He knows it, then. Better not see him too often, Charles. You are +running a risk yourself, as you must be aware."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know I am. It is altogether a trial. Good-day, uncle."</p> + +<p>I shook hands with Jones as I passed<span class="pagenum">[164]</span> through his room, and ran down +the stairs, feeling all the better for my interview with him and with +his patron, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i014.jpg" width="150" height="178" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[165]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i015a.jpg" width="400" height="114" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">AN ACCIDENT.</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> drawing-room floor at Lennard's made very comfortable quarters for +Tom Heriot, and his removal from the room in Southwark had been +accomplished without difficulty. Mrs. Lennard, a patient, mild, weak +woman, who could never have been strong-minded, made him an excellent +nurse, her more practical and very capable daughter, Charlotte, aiding +her when necessary.</p> + +<p>A safer refuge could not have been found in London. The Lennards were +so often under a cloud themselves as regarded pecuniary matters, so +beset at times by their<span class="pagenum">[166]</span> unwelcome creditors—the butcher, baker and +grocer—that the chain of their front door was kept habitually +fastened, and no one was admitted within its portals without being +first of all subjected to a comprehensive survey. Had some kind friend +made a rush to the perambulating policeman of the district, to inform +him that the domicile of those Lennards was again in a state of siege, +he would simply have speculated upon whether the enemy was this time +the landlord or the Queen's taxes. It chanced to be neither; but it +was well for the besieged to favour the impression that it was one or +the other, or both. Policemen do not wage war with unfortunate +debtors, and Mr. Lennard's house was as safe as a remote castle.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brown" Tom was called there; none of the household, with the +exception of its master, having any idea that it was not his true +name. "One of the gentlemen clerks in Essex Street, who has no home in +London; I have undertaken to receive<span class="pagenum">[167]</span> him while he is ill," Mr. +Lennard had carelessly remarked to his wife and daughters before +introducing Tom. They had unsuspecting minds, except as regarded their +own creditors, those ladies—ladies always, though fallen from their +former state—and never thought to question the statement, or to be at +all surprised that Mr. Strange himself took an interest in his clerk's +illness, and paid an evening visit to him now and then. The doctor who +was called in, a hard-worked practitioner named Purfleet, did his best +for "Mr. Brown," but had no time to spare for curiosity about him in +any other way, or to give so much as a thought to his antecedents.</p> + +<p>And just at first, after being settled at Lennard's, Tom Heriot seemed +to be taking a turn for the better. The warmth of the comfortable +rooms, the care given to him, the strengthening diet, and perhaps a +feeling that he was in a safer asylum than he had yet found, all had +their effect upon him for good.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[168]</span></p><hr class="tb" /> + +<p>"Hatch!" called out Mrs. Brightman.</p> + +<p>Hatch ran in from the next room. "Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Let Perry go and tell the gardener to cut some of his best grapes, +white and purple, and do you arrange them in a basket. I shall go up +to Essex Street and see my daughter this afternoon, and will take them +to her. Order the carriage for half-past two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Miss Annabel will be finely pleased to see you, ma'am!" remarked +Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Possibly so. But she is no longer Miss Annabel. Go and see about the +grapes."</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Brightman's tones were cold and haughty, and they sounded +especially so just now, she brooked no dilatoriness in those who had +to obey her behests. Hatch turned away immediately, and went along +talking to herself.</p> + +<p>"She's getting cross and restless again. I'm certain of it. In a +week's time from this we shall have her as bad as before. And for ever +so many weeks now she has been as<span class="pagenum">[169]</span> cautious and sober as a judge! Hang +the drink, then! Doctors may well call it a disease when it comes to +this stage with people. Here—I say, Perry!"</p> + +<p>The butler, passing along the hall, heard Hatch's call, and stopped. +She gave her cap-strings a fling backwards as she advanced to him.</p> + +<p>"You are to go and tell Church to cut a basket of grapes, and to mix +'em, white and black. The very best and ripest that is in the +greenhouse; they be for Miss Annabel."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll go at once," answered Perry. "But you need not snap a +man's nose off, Hatch, or look as if you were going to eat him. What +has put you out?"</p> + +<p>"Enough has put me out; and you might know that, old Perry, if you had +any sense," retorted Hatch. "When do I snap people's noses off—which +it's my tone, I take it, that you mean—except I'm that bothered and +worried I can't speak sweet?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what's amiss?" asked Perry.</p> + +<p>They were standing close together, and<span class="pagenum">[170]</span> Hatch lowered her voice to a +whisper. "The missis is going off again; I be certain sure on't."</p> + +<p>"<i>No!</i>" cried Perry, full of dismay. "But, look here, Hatch"—suddenly +diving into one of his jackets—"she can't have done it; here's the +cellar-key. I can be upon my word that there's not a drain of anything +out."</p> + +<p>"You always did have the brains of a turkey, you know, Perry," was +Hatch's gracious rejoinder; "and I'm tired of reminding you of it. Who +said missis had took anything? Not me. She haven't—yet. As you +observe, there's nothing up for her to take. But she'll be ordering +you to bring something up before to-morrow's over; perhaps before +to-day is."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" lamented the faithful servant. "Don't you think you may +be mistaken, Hatch? What do you judge by?"</p> + +<p>"I judge by herself. I've not lived with my missis all these years +without learning to notice signs and tokens. Her manner<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> to-day and +her restlessness is just as plain as the sun in the sky. I know what +it means, and you'll know it too, as soon as she gives you her orders +to unlock the cellar."</p> + +<p>"Can nothing be done?" cried the unhappy Perry. "Could I <i>lose</i> the +key of the cellar, do you think, Hatch? Would that be of any good?"</p> + +<p>"It would hold good just as long as you'd be in getting a hammer and +poker to break it open with; you've not got to deal with a pack of +schoolboys that's under control," was Hatch's sarcastic reproof. "But +I think there's one thing we might try, Perry, and that is, run round +to Mr. Close and tell him about it. Perhaps he could give her +something to stop the craving."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said Perry. "I'll slip round when I've told Church about +the grapes."</p> + +<p>"And the carriage is ordered early—half-past two; so mind you are in +readiness," concluded Hatch.</p> + +<p>Perry went to the surgeon's, after delivering<span class="pagenum">[172]</span> his orders to the +gardener. But Mr. Close was not at home, and the man came away again +without leaving any message; he did not choose to enter upon the +subject with Mr. Dunn, the assistant. The latter inquired who was ill, +and Perry replied that nobody was; he had only come to speak a private +word to Mr. Close, which could wait. In point of fact, he meant to +call later.</p> + +<p>But the curiosity of Mr. Dunn, who was a very inquisitive young man, +fonder of attending to other people's business than of doing his own, +had been aroused by this. He considered Perry's manner rather +mysterious, as well as the suppression of the message, and he enlarged +upon the account to Mr. Close when he came in. Mr. Close made no +particular rejoinder; but in his own mind he felt little doubt that +Mrs. Brightman was breaking out again, and determined to go and see +her when he had had his dinner.</p> + +<p>Perry returned home, and waited on his mistress at luncheon, quaking +inwardly all<span class="pagenum">[173]</span> the time, as he subsequently confessed to Hatch, lest +she should ask him for something that was not upon the table. However, +she did not do so; but she was very restless, as Perry observed; ate +little, drank no water, and told Perry to bring her a cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>At half-past two the carriage stood at the gate, the silver on the +horses' harness glittering in the sun. Quickly enough appeared the +procession from the house. Mrs. Brightman, upright and impassive, +walking with stately step; Hatch, a shawl or two upon her arm, holding +an umbrella over her mistress to shade her from the sun; Perry in the +background, carrying the basket of grapes. Perry would attend his +mistress in her drive, as usual, but not Hatch.</p> + +<p>The servants were placing the shawls and the grapes in the carriage, +and Mrs. Brightman, who hated anything to be done after she had taken +her seat, was waiting to enter it, when Mr. Close, the surgeon, came +bustling up.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[174]</span></p> + +<p>"Going for a drive this fine day!" he exclaimed, as he shook hands +with Mrs. Brightman. "I'm glad of that. I had been thinking that +perhaps you were not well."</p> + +<p>"Why should you think so?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"Well, Perry was round at my place this morning, and left a message +that he wanted to see me. I——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Close suppressed the remainder of his speech as his gaze suddenly +fell on Perry's startled face. The man had turned from the carriage, +and was looking at him in helpless, beseeching terror. A faithful +retainer was Perry, an honest butler; but at a pinch his brains were +no better than what Hatch had compared them with—those of a turkey.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman, her countenance taking its very haughtiest expression, +gazed first at the doctor, then at Perry, as if demanding what this +might mean; possibly, poor lady, she had a suspicion of it. But Hatch, +ready Hatch, was equal to the occasion: <i>she</i> never lost her presence +of mind.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[175]</span></p> + +<p>"I told Perry he might just as well have asked young Mr. Dunn for 'em, +when he came back without the drops," said she, facing the surgeon and +speaking carelessly. "Your not being in didn't matter. It was some +cough-drops I sent him for; the same as those you've let us have +before, Mr. Close. Our cook's cough is that bad, she can't sleep at +night, nor let anybody else sleep that's within earshot of her room."</p> + +<p>"Well, I came round in a hurry, thinking some of you might be +suffering from this complaint that's going about," said Mr. Close, +taking up the clue in an easy manner.</p> + +<p>"That there spasadic cholera," assented Hatch.</p> + +<p>"Cholera! It's not cholera. There's nothing of that sort about," said +the surgeon. "But there's a good bit of influenza; I have half a dozen +patients suffering from it. A spell of bright weather such as this, +though, will soon drive it away. And I'll send you some of the drops +when I get back, Hatch."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brightman advanced to the carriage;<span class="pagenum">[176]</span> the surgeon was at hand to +assist her in. Perry stood on the other side his mistress. Hatch had +retreated to the gate and was looking on.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a yell, as of something unearthly, startled their ears. A +fierce-looking bull, frightened probably by the passers-by on the +road, and the prods given to it by the formidable stick of its driver, +had dashed behind the carriage on to the foot-path, and set up that +terrible roar. Mr. Close looked round, Perry did the same; whilst Mrs. +Brightman, who was in the very act of getting into her carriage, and +whose nerves were more sensitive than theirs, turned sharply round +also and screamed.</p> + +<p>Again Hatch came to the rescue. She had closed the umbrella and lodged +it against the pillar of the gate, for here they were under the shade +of trees. Seizing the umbrella now, she opened it with a great dash +and noise, and rushed towards the bull, pointing it menacingly. The +animal, no doubt more startled than they were, tore<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> away and gained +the highroad again. Then everyone had leisure to see that Mrs. +Brightman was lying on the ground partly under the carriage.</p> + +<p>She must have fallen in turning round, partly from fright, partly from +the moving of the carriage. The horses had also been somewhat startled +by the bull's noise, and one of them began to prance. The coachman had +his horses well in hand, and soon quieted them; but he had not been +able to prevent the movement, which had no doubt chiefly caused his +mistress to fall.</p> + +<p>They quickly drew her from under the carriage and attempted to raise +her; but she cried out with such tones of agony that the surgeon +feared she was seriously injured. As soon as possible she was conveyed +indoors on a mattress. Another surgeon joined Mr. Close, and it was +found that her leg was broken near the ankle.</p> + +<p>When it had been set and the commotion was subsiding, Perry was +despatched to Essex Street with the carriage and the<span class="pagenum">[178]</span> bad news—the +carriage to bring back Annabel.</p> + +<p>"What was it you really came to my surgery for, Perry?" Mr. Close took +an opportunity of asking him before he started.</p> + +<p>"It was about my mistress, sir," answered the man. "Hatch felt quite +sure, by signs and tokens, that Mrs. Brightman was going to—to—be +ill again. She sent me to tell you, sir, and to ask if you couldn't +give her something to stop it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I thought as much. But when I saw you all out there, your +mistress looking well and about to take a drive, I concluded I had +been mistaken," said the surgeon.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>I had run upstairs during the afternoon to ask a question of Annabel, +and was standing beside her at the drawing-room window, where she sat +at work, when a carriage came swiftly down the street, and stopped at +the door.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is mamma's!" exclaimed Annabel, looking out.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p> + +<p>"But I don't see her in it," I rejoined.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she must be in it, Charles. Perry is on the box."</p> + +<p>Perry was getting down, but was not quite so quick in his movements as +a slim young footman would be. He rang the door-bell, and I was +fetched down to him. In two minutes afterwards I had disclosed the +news to my wife, and brought Perry upstairs that she might herself +question him. The tears were coursing down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on, Miss Annabel," said the man, feeling quite too much +lost in the bad tidings to remember Annabel's new title. "There's not +the least bit of danger, ma'am; Mr. Close bade me say it; all is sure +to go on well."</p> + +<p>"Did you bring the carriage for me, Perry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, I did. And it was my mistress herself thought of it. When +Mr. Close, or Hatch—one of 'em it was, I don't know which—told her +they were going to<span class="pagenum">[180]</span> send me for you, she said, 'Let Perry take the +carriage.' Oh, ma'am, indeed she is fully as well as she could be: it +was only at first that she seemed faintish like."</p> + +<p>Annabel went back in the carriage at once. I promised to follow her as +early in the evening as I could get away. Relying upon the butler's +assurance that Mrs. Brightman was not in the slightest danger; that, +on the contrary, it would be an illness of weeks, if not of months, +there was no necessity for accompanying Annabel at an inconvenient +moment.</p> + +<p>"It is, in one sense, the luckiest thing that could have happened to +her," Mr. Close remarked to me that evening when we were conversing +together.</p> + +<p>"Lucky! How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she <i>must</i> be under our control now," he answered in +significant tones, "and we were fearing, only to-day, that she was on +the point of breaking out again. A long spell of enforced abstinence, +such as this, may effect wonders."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[181]</span></p> + +<p>Of course, looking at it in that light, the accident might be called +fortunate. "There's a silver lining to every cloud."</p> + +<p>Annabel took up her abode temporarily at her mother's: Mrs. Brightman +requested it. I went down there of an evening—though not every +evening—returning to Essex Street in the morning. Tom's increasing +illness kept me in town occasionally, for I could not help going to +see him, and he was growing weaker day by day. The closing features of +consumption were gaining upon him rapidly. To add to our difficulties, +Mr. Policeman Wren, who seemed to follow Tom's changes of domicile in +a very ominous and remarkable manner, had now transferred his beat +from Southwark, and might be seen pacing before Lennard's door ten +times a day.</p> + +<p>One morning when I had come up from Clapham and was seated in my own +room opening letters, Lennard entered. He closed the door with a +quiet, cautious movement, and waited, without speaking.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[182]</span></p> + +<p>"Anything particular, Lennard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I've brought rather bad news," he said. "Captain Heriot is +worse."</p> + +<p>"Worse? In what way? But he is not Captain Heriot, Lennard; he is Mr. +Brown. Be careful."</p> + +<p>"We cannot be overheard," he answered, glancing at the closed door. +"He appeared so exceedingly weak last night that I thought I would sit +up with him for an hour or two, and then lie down on his sofa for the +rest of the night. About five o'clock this morning he had a violent +fit of coughing and broke a blood-vessel."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I know a little of the treatment necessary in such cases, and we got +the doctor to him as soon as possible. Mr. Purfleet does not give the +slightest hope now. In fact, he thinks that a very few days more will +bring the ending."</p> + +<p>I sat back in my chair. Poor Tom! Poor Tom!</p> + +<p>"It is the best for him, Mr. Charles,"<span class="pagenum">[183]</span> spoke Lennard, with some +emotion. "Better, infinitely, than that of which he has been running +the risk. When a man's life is marred as he has marred his, heaven +must seem like a haven of refuge to him."</p> + +<p>"Has he any idea of his critical state?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and, I feel sure, is quite reconciled to it. He remarked this +morning how much he should like to see Blanche: meaning, I presume, +Lady Level."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but there are difficulties in the way, Lennard. I will come to +him myself, but not until evening. There's no immediate danger, you +tell me, and I do not care to be seen entering your house during the +day while he is in it. The big policeman might be on the watch, and +ask me what I wanted there."</p> + +<p>Lennard left the room and I returned to my letters. The next I took up +was a note from Blanche. Lord Level was not <i>yet</i> back from Marshdale, +she told me in it; he kept writing miserable scraps of notes in which +he put her off with excuses from day to day,<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> always assuring her he +hoped to be up on the morrow. But she could see she was being played +with; and the patience which, in obedience to me and Major Carlen, she +had been exercising, was very nearly exhausted. She wrote this, she +concluded by saying, to warn me that it was so.</p> + +<p>Truth to say, I did wonder what was keeping Level at Marshdale. He had +been there more than a week now.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i016.jpg" width="150" height="148" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[185]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i017a.jpg" width="400" height="111" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="h3">LAST DAYS.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-t.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">T</span>OM HERIOT</b> lay on his sofa in his bedroom, the firelight flickering on +his faded face. This was Monday, the third day since the attack spoken +of by Lennard, and there had not been any return of it. His voice was +stronger this evening; he seemed better altogether, and was jesting, +as he loved to do. Leah had been to see him during the day, and he was +recounting one or two of their passages-at-arms, with much glee.</p> + +<p>"Charley, old fellow, you look as solemn as a judge."</p> + +<p>Most likely I did. I sat on the other<span class="pagenum">[186]</span> side the hearthrug, gazing as I +listened to him; and I thought I saw in his face the grayness that +frequently precedes death.</p> + +<p>"Did you know that that giant of the force, Wren, had his eye upon me, +Charley?"</p> + +<p>"No! Why do you say so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I think he has—some suspicion, at any rate. He parades before +the house like a walking apparition. I look at him from behind the +curtains in the other room. He paraded in like manner, you know, +before that house in Southwark and the other one in Lambeth."</p> + +<p>"It may be only a coincidence, Tom. The police are moved about a good +deal from beat to beat, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," assented Tom carelessly. "If he came in and took me, I +don't think he could do much with me now. He accosted Purfleet +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Accosted Purfleet!"</p> + +<p>Tom nodded. "After his morning visit to me, he went dashing out of the +street-door in his usual quick way, and dashed<span class="pagenum">[187]</span> against Wren. One +might think a regiment of soldiers were always waiting to have their +legs and arms cut off, and that Purfleet had to do it, by the way he +rushes about," concluded Tom.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"'In a hurry this morning, doctor,' says old Wren, who is uncommonly +fond of hearing himself talk. 'And who is it that's ill at Mr. +Lennard's?' 'I generally am in a hurry,' says Purfleet, 'and so would +you be if you had as many sick people on your hands. At Lennard's? +Why, that poor suffering daughter of his has had another attack, and I +don't know whether I shall save her.' And, with that, Purfleet got +away. He related this to me when he came in at tea-time."</p> + +<p>A thought struck me. "But, Tom, does Purfleet know that you are in +concealment here? Or why should he have put his visits to you upon +Maria Lennard?"</p> + +<p>"Why, how could he be off knowing it? Lennard asked him at first, as a +matter of<span class="pagenum">[188]</span> precaution, not to speak of me in the neighbourhood. Mr. +Brown was rather under a cloud just now, he said. I wouldn't mind +betting a silver sixpence, Charley, that he knows I am Tom Heriot."</p> + +<p>I wondered whether Tom was joking.</p> + +<p>"Likely enough," went on Tom. "He knows that you come to see me, and +that you are Mr. Strange, of Essex Street. And he has heard, I'll lay, +that Mr. Strange had a wicked sort of half-brother, one Captain +Heriot, who fell into the fetters of the law and escaped them, +and—and may be the very Mr. Brown who's lying ill here. Purfleet can +put two and two together as cleverly as other people, Charles."</p> + +<p>"If so, it is frightfully hazardous——"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," interrupted Tom with equanimity. "He'd no more betray +me, Charley, than he'd betray himself. Doctors don't divulge the +secrets of their patients; they keep them. It is a point of honour in +the medical code: as well as of self-interest. What family would call +in a man who was<span class="pagenum">[189]</span> known to run about saying the Smiths next door had +veal for dinner to-day, and they ought to have had mutton? If no more +harm reaches me than any brought about by Purfleet, I am safe enough."</p> + +<p>It might be as he said. And I saw that he would be incautious to the +end.</p> + +<p>At that moment Mrs. Lennard came in with something in a breakfast-cup. +"You are a good lady," said Tom gratefully. "See how they feed me up, +Charley!"</p> + +<p>But for the hollow tones, the hectic flush and the brilliant eyes, it +might almost have been thought he was getting better. The cough had +nearly left him, and the weakness was not more apparent than it had +been for a week past. But that faint, deep, <i>far-away</i> sounding voice, +which had now come on, told the truth. The close was near at hand.</p> + +<p>After Mrs. Lennard had left the room with the empty cup, Tom lay back +on the sofa, put his head on the pillow, and in a minute or two seemed +to be asleep. Presently<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> I moved gently across the hearthrug to fold +the warm, light quilt upon his knees. He opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You need not creep, Charley. I am not asleep. I had a regular good +sleep in the afternoon, and don't feel inclined for it now. I was +thinking about the funeral."</p> + +<p>"The funeral!" I echoed, taken back. "Whose funeral?"</p> + +<p>"Mine. They won't care to lay me by my mother, will they?—I mean my +own mother. The world might put its inquisitive word in, and say that +must be Tom Heriot, the felon. Neither you nor Level would like that, +nor old Carlen either."</p> + +<p>I made no answer, uncertain what to say.</p> + +<p>"Yet I should like to lie by her," he went on. "There was a large +vault made, when she died, to hold the three of us—herself, my father +and me. <i>They</i> are in it; I should like to be placed with them."</p> + +<p>"Time enough to think of that, Tom, when—when—the time comes," I +stammered.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[191]</span></p> + +<p>"The time's not far off now, Charley."</p> + +<p>"Two nights ago, when I was here, you assured me you were getting +better."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought I might be; there are such ups and downs in a man's +state. He will appear sick unto death to-day, and tomorrow be driving +down to a whitebait dinner at Greenwich. I've changed my opinion, +Charley; I've had my warning."</p> + +<p>"Had your warning! What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to see Blanche," he whispered. "Dear little Blanche! +How I used to tease her in our young days, and Leah would box my ears +for it; and I teased you also, Charley. Could you not bring her here, +if Level would let her come?"</p> + +<p>"Tom, I hardly know. For one thing, she has not heard anything of the +past trouble, as you are aware. She thinks you are in India with the +regiment, and calls you a very undutiful brother for not writing to +her. I suppose it might be managed."</p> + +<p>"Dear little Blanche!" he repeated.<span class="pagenum">[192]</span> "Yes, I teased her—and loved her +all the time. Just one visit, Charley. It will be the last until we +meet upon the eternal shores. Try and contrive it."</p> + +<p>I sat thinking how it might be done—the revelation to Blanche, +bringing her to the house, and obtaining the consent of Lord Level; +for I should not care to stir in it without his consent. Tom appeared +to be thinking also, and a silence ensued. It was he who broke it.</p> + +<p>"Charles!"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Do you ever recall events that passed in our old life at White +Littleham Rectory? do any of them lie in your memory?"</p> + +<p>"I think all of them lie in it," I answered. "My memory is, you know, +a remarkably good one."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Tom. And then he paused again. "Do you recollect that +especial incident when your father told us of his dream?" he continued +presently. "I picture the scene now; it has been present to my<span class="pagenum">[193]</span> mind +all day. A frosty winter morning, icicles on the trees and frosty +devices on the window-panes. You and I and your father seated round +the breakfast-table; Leah pouring out the coffee and cutting bread and +butter for us. He appeared to be in deep thought, and when I remarked +upon it, and you asked him what he was thinking of, he said his dream. +D'you mind it, lad?"</p> + +<p>"I do. The thing made an impression on me. The scene and what passed +at it are as plain to me now as though it had happened yesterday. +After saying he was thinking of his dream, he added, in a dubious +tone, 'If it <i>was</i> a dream.' Mr. Penthorn came in whilst he was +telling it.</p> + +<p>"He was fast asleep; had gone to bed in the best of health, probably +concocting matter for next Sunday's sermon," resumed Tom, recalling +the facts. "Suddenly, he awoke at the sound of a voice. It was his +late wife's voice; your mother, Charley. He was wide awake on the +instant, and<span class="pagenum">[194]</span> knew the voice for hers; she appeared to be standing at +the bedside."</p> + +<p>"But he did not see her," I put in.</p> + +<p>"No; he never said he saw her," replied Tom Heriot. "But the +impression was upon him that a figure stood there, and that after +speaking it retreated towards the window. He got up and struck a light +and found the room empty, no trace of anyone's having been in it. +Nevertheless he could not get rid of the belief, though not a +superstitious man, that it was his wife who came to him."</p> + +<p>"In the spirit."</p> + +<p>"In the spirit, of course. He knew her voice perfectly, he said. Mr. +Penthorn rather ridiculed the matter; saying it was nothing but a +vivid dream. I don't think it made much impression upon your father, +except that it puzzled him."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it did," I assented, my thoughts all in the past. "As +you observe, Tom, he was not superstitious; he had no particular +belief in the supernatural."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[195]</span></p> + +<p>"No; it faded from all our minds with the day—Leah's perhaps +excepted. But what was the result? On the fourth night afterwards he +died. The dream occurred on the Friday morning a little before three +o'clock; your father looked at his watch when he got out of bed and +saw that it wanted a quarter to three. On Tuesday morning at a quarter +to three he died in his study, into which he had been carried after +his accident."</p> + +<p>All true. The circumstances, to me, were painful even now.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you make of it, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. But I don't quite understand your question."</p> + +<p>"Do you think his wife really came to him?—That she was permitted to +come back to earth to warn him of his approaching death?"</p> + +<p>"I have always believed that. I can hardly see how anyone could doubt +it."</p> + +<p>"Well, Charley, I did. I was a graceless, light-headed young wight, +you know, and<span class="pagenum">[196]</span> serious things made no impression on me. If I thought +about it at all, it was to put it down to fancy; or a dream, as Mr. +Penthorn said; and I don't believe I've ever had the thing in my mind +from that time to this."</p> + +<p>"And why should it come back to you now?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Because," answered Tom, "I think I have had a similar warning."</p> + +<p>He spoke very calmly. I looked at him. He was sitting upright on the +sofa now, his feet stretched out on a warm wool footstool, the quilt +lying across his knees, and his hands resting upon it.</p> + +<p>"What can you mean, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"It was last night," he answered; "or, rather, this morning. I was in +bed, and pretty soundly asleep, for me, and I began to dream. I +thought I saw my father come in through the door, that one opening to +the passage, cross the room and sit down by the bedside with his face +turned to me. I mean my own father, Colonel Heriot. He looked just as +he used to look; not a day<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> older; his fine figure erect, his bright, +wavy hair brushed off his brow as he always wore it, his blue eyes +smiling and kindly. I was not in the least surprised to see him; his +coming in seemed to be quite a matter of course. 'Well, Thomas,' he +began, looking at me after he had sat down; 'we have been parted for +some time, and I have much to say to you.' 'Say it now, papa,' I +answered, going back in my dream to the language of childhood's days. +'There's not time now,' he replied; 'we must wait a little yet; it +won't be long, Thomas.' Then I saw him rise from the chair, re-cross +the room to the door, turn to look at me with a smile, and go out, +leaving the door open. I awoke in a moment; at the very moment, I am +certain; and for some little time I could not persuade myself that +what had passed was not reality. The chair in which he had sat stood +at the bedside, and the door was wide open."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose the chair had been there all night, and that someone +was sitting up<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> with you? Whoever it was must have opened the door."</p> + +<p>"The chair had been there all night," assented Tom. "But the door had +<i>not</i> been opened by human hands, so far as I can learn. It was old +Faith's turn to sit up last night—that worthy old soul of a servant +who has clung to the Lennards through all their misfortunes. Finding +that I slept comfortably, Faith had fallen asleep too in the big chair +in that corner behind you. She declared that the door had been firmly +shut—and I believe she thought it was I who had got up and opened +it."</p> + +<p>"It was a dream, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Granted. But it was a warning. It came—nay, who can say it was not +<i>he</i> who came?—to show me that I shall soon be with him. We shall +have time, and to spare, to talk then. I have never had so vivid a +dream in my life; or one that so left behind it the impression that it +had been reality."</p> + +<p>"Well——"</p> + +<p>"Look here," he interrupted. "Your<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> father said, if you remember, that +the visit paid to him, whether real or imaginary, by his wife, and the +words she spoke, had revived within him his recollections of her +voice, which had in a slight degree begun to fade. Well, Charles, I +give you my word that I had partly forgotten my father's appearance; I +was only a little fellow when he died; but his visit to me in my dream +last night has brought it back most vividly. Come, you wise old +lawyer, what do you say to that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Tom. Such things <i>are</i>, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"If I got well and lived to be a hundred years old, I should never +laugh at them again."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell Leah this when she was here to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Ay; and of course she burst out crying. 'Take it as it's meant, +Master Tom,' said she, 'and prepare yourself. It is your warning.' +Just as she had told your father, Charles, that that other was <i>his</i> +warning. She was right then; she is right now."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[200]</span></p> + +<p>"You cannot know it. And you must not let this trouble you."</p> + +<p>"It does not trouble me," he answered quickly. "Rather the contrary, +for it sets my mind at rest. I have had little hope of myself for some +time past; I have had none, so to say, since that sudden attack a few +nights ago; nevertheless, I won't say but a grain of it may have still +deluded me now and again. Hope is the last thing we part with in this +world, you know, lad. But this dream-visit of my father has shown me +the truth beyond all doubt; and now I have only to make my packet, as +the French say, and wait for the signal to start."</p> + +<p>We talked together a little longer, but my time was up. I left him for +the night and apparently in the best of spirits.</p> + +<p>Lennard was alone in his parlour when I got downstairs. I asked him +whether he had heard of this fancy of Tom's about the dream.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "He told me about it this evening, when I was +sitting with him<span class="pagenum">[201]</span> after tea; but he did not seem at all depressed by +it. I don't think it matters much either way," added Lennard +thoughtfully, "for the end cannot be far off now."</p> + +<p>"He has an idea that Purfleet guesses who he really is."</p> + +<p>"But he has no grounds for saying it," returned Lennard. "Purfleet +heard when he was first called in that 'Mr. Brown' wished to be kept +<i>en cachette</i>, if I may so put it; but that he should guess him to be +Captain Heriot is quite improbable. Because Captain Heriot is aware of +his own identity, he assumes that other people must needs be aware of +it."</p> + +<p>"One might trust Purfleet not to betray him, I fancy, if he does guess +it?"</p> + +<p>"That I am sure of," said Lennard warmly. "He is kind and benevolent. +Most medical men are so from their frequent contact with the dark +shades of life, whether of sickness or of sorrow. As to Purfleet, he +is too hard-worked, poor man, to have much leisure for speculating +upon the affairs of other people."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[202]</span></p> + +<p>"Wren is still walking about here."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I think he has been put upon this beat in the ordinary way +of things, not that he is looking after anyone in particular. Mr. +Strange, if he had any suspicion of Captain Heriot in Lambeth, he +would have taken him; he would have taken him again when in Southwark; +and he would, ere this, have taken him here. Wren appears to be one of +those gossiping men who must talk to everybody; and I believe that is +all the mystery."</p> + +<p>Wishing Lennard good-night, I went home to Essex Street, and sat down +to write to Lord Level. He would not receive the letter at Marshdale +until the following afternoon, but it would be in time for him to +answer me by the evening post.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i018.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[203]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i019a.jpg" width="400" height="110" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="h3">LAST WORDS.</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> next day, Tuesday, I was very busy, hurrying forward to get down +to Clapham in time for dinner in the evening. Lennard's report in the +morning had been that Captain Heriot was no worse, and that Mr. +Purfleet, who had paid him an early visit, said there might be no +change for a week or more.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon I received a brief note from Mr. Serjeant +Stillingfar, asking me to be in Russell Square the following morning +by eight o'clock: he wished to see me very particularly.</p> + +<p>Knowing that when he named any special<span class="pagenum">[204]</span> hour he meant it, and that he +expected everyone who had dealings with him to be as punctual as +himself, I came up to town on the Wednesday morning, and was at his +house a few minutes before eight o'clock. The Serjeant was just +sitting down to breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Will you take some, Charles?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, uncle. I have just come up from Clapham, and +breakfasted before starting."</p> + +<p>"How is Mrs. Brightman going on?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well. It will be a long job, the doctors say, from something +unusual connected with the fracture, but nothing dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Charles," he said. "And tell me at once. Is Captain +Heriot," lowering his voice, "in a state to be got away?"</p> + +<p>The words did not surprise me. The whole night it had been in my mind +that the Serjeant's mandate concerned Tom Heriot.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[205]</span></p> + +<p>"No; it would be impossible," I answered. "He has to be moved gently, +from bed to sofa, and can only walk, if he attempts it at all, by +being helped on both sides. Three or four days ago, a vessel on the +lungs broke; any undue exertion would at once be fatal."</p> + +<p>"Then, do I understand you that he is actually dying?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly he is, sir. I was with him on Monday night, and saw in +his face the gray hue which is the precursor of death. I am sure I was +not mistaken——"</p> + +<p>"That peculiar hue can never be mistaken by those who have learnt from +sad experience," he interrupted dreamily.</p> + +<p>"He may linger on a few days, even a week or so, I believe the doctor +thinks, but death is certainly on its road; and he must die where he +is, Uncle Stillingfar. He cannot be again moved."</p> + +<p>The Serjeant sat silent for a few moments. "It is very unfortunate, +Charles," he resumed. "Could he have been got away it<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> would be better +for him, better for you all. Though, in truth, it is not I who ought +to suggest it, as you well know; but sometimes one's private and +public duties oppose each other."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard anything, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard from a sure source that the authorities know that +Captain Heriot is in London. They know it positively: but not, I +think, where he is concealed. The search for him will now commence in +earnest."</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed, unfortunate. I have been hoping he would be left to +die in peace. One thing is certain: if the police find him they can +only let him remain where he is. They cannot remove him."</p> + +<p>"Then nothing can be done: things must take their course," sighed the +Serjeant. "You must take precautions yourself, Charles. Most probably +the movements of those connected with him will now be watched, in the +hope that they may afford a clue to his hiding-place."</p> + +<p>"I cannot abandon him, Uncle Stillingfar.<span class="pagenum">[207]</span> I must see him to the end. +We have been as brothers, you know. He wants to see Blanche, and I +have written about it to Lord Level."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I cannot advise; I wish I could," he replied. "But I +thought it my duty to let you know this."</p> + +<p>"A few days will, in any case, see the ending," I whispered as I bade +him goodbye. "Thank you for all your sympathy, uncle."</p> + +<p>"My boy, there is One above," raising his hand reverently, "who has +more pity for us than we have for one another. He can keep him in +peace yet. Don't forget that, Charles."</p> + +<p>To my office, then, and the morning letters. Amidst them lay Lord +Level's answer. Some of its contents surprised me.</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="author">Marshdale House,</p> + +<p class="right">Tuesday Evening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Charles</span>,</p> + +<p>If you like to undertake the arrangement of the visit you +propose, do<span class="pagenum">[208]</span> so. I have no objection. For some little time now +I have thought that it might be better that my wife should know +the truth. You see she is, and has been, liable to hear it at +any moment through some untoward revelation, for which she +would not be prepared; and the care I have taken to avoid this +has not only been sometimes inconvenient to myself, but +misconstrued by Blanche. When we were moving about after our +marriage, I kept her in unfrequented places, as far as I could, +to spare her the chance of this; men's lips were full of it +just then, as you know. Blanche resented that bitterly, putting +it all down to some curious purposes of my own. Let her hear +the truth now. I am not on the spot to impart it to her myself, +and shall be glad if you will do so. Afterwards you can take +her to see the invalid. I am sorry for what you say of his +state. Tell him so: and that he has my sympathy and best +wishes.</p> + +<p>Blanche has been favouring me lately with some letters written +in anything but a<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> complimentary strain. One that I received +this morning coolly informs me that she is about to 'Take +immediate steps to obtain a formal separation, if not a +divorce.' I am not able to travel to London and settle things +with her, and have written to her to tell her to come here to +me. The fact is, I am ill. Strange to say, the same sort of low +fever which attacked me when I was at Marshdale last autumn has +returned upon me now. It is not as bad as it was then, but I am +confined to bed. Spare the time to bring Blanche down, there's +a good fellow. I have told her that you will do so. Come on +Thursday if convenient to you, and remain the night. She shall +hear what I have to say to her; after that, she can talk of a +separation if she likes. You shall hear it also.</p> + +<p class="author">Ever truly yours,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Level</span>.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Whilst deliberating upon the contents of this letter, and how I could +best carry out its requests, Lennard came in, as usual on<span class="pagenum">[210]</span> his arrival +for the day, to give me his report of Tom Heriot. There was not any +apparent change in him, he said, either for the better or the worse. I +informed Lennard of what I had just heard from the Serjeant.</p> + +<p>Then I despatched a clerk to Gloucester Place with a note for Blanche, +telling her I should be with her early in the evening, and that she +must not fail to be at home, as my business was important.</p> + +<p>Twilight was falling when I arrived. Blanche sat at one of the windows +in the drawing-room, looking listlessly into the street in the fading +light. Old Mrs. Guy, who was staying with her, was lying on the +dining-room sofa, Blanche said, having retired to it and fallen asleep +after dinner.</p> + +<p>How lovely Blanche looked; but how cross! She wore a pale blue silk, +her favourite colour, with a gold necklace and open bracelets, from +which drooped a heart set with sapphires and diamonds; and her fair, +silken hair looked as if she had been impatiently pushing it about.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[211]</span></p> + +<p>"I know what you have come for, Charles," she said in fretful tones, +as I sat down near her. "Lord Level prepared me in a letter I received +from him this morning."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" I answered lightly. "What did the preparation consist of?"</p> + +<p>"I wrote to him," said Blanche. "I have written to him more than once, +telling him I am about to get a separation. In answer, my lord +commands me down to Marshdale"—very resentfully—"and says you are to +take me down."</p> + +<p>"All quite right, Blanche; quite true, so far. But——"</p> + +<p>"But I don't know that I shall go. I think I shall not go."</p> + +<p>"A wife should obey her husband's commands."</p> + +<p>"I do not intend to be his wife any longer. And you cannot wish me to +be, Charles; you ought not to wish it. Lord Level's conduct is simply +shameful. What right has he to stay at Marshdale—amusing himself down +there?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[212]</span></p> + +<p>"I fancy he cannot help staying there at present. Has he told you he +is ill?"</p> + +<p>She glanced quickly round at me.</p> + +<p>"Has he told <i>you</i> that he is so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Blanche; he has. He is too ill to travel."</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment, and then tossed back her pretty hair with a +scornful hand.</p> + +<p>"And you believed him! Anything for an excuse. He is no more ill than +I am, Charles; rely upon that."</p> + +<p>"But I am certain——"</p> + +<p>"Don't go on," she interrupted, tapping her dainty black satin slipper +on the carpet; a petulant movement to which Blanche was given, even as +a child. "If you have come for the purpose of whitening my husband to +me, as papa is always doing. I will not listen to you."</p> + +<p>"You will not listen to any sort of reasoning whatever. I see that, my +dear."</p> + +<p>"Reasoning, indeed!" she retorted. "Say sophistry."</p> + +<p>"Listen for an instant, Blanche; consider<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> this one little item: I +believe Lord Level to be ill, confined to his bed with low fever, as +he tells me; you refuse to believe it; you say he is well. Now, +considering that he expects us both to be at Marshdale to-morrow, can +you not perceive how entirely, ridiculously void of purpose it would +be for him to say he is seriously ill if he is not so?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said my young lady. "He is deeper than any fox."</p> + +<p>"Blanche, my opinion is, and you are aware of it, that you misjudge +your husband. Upon one or two points I <i>know</i> you do. But I did not +come here to discuss these unpleasant topics—you are in error there, +you see. I came upon a widely different matter: to disclose something +to you that will very greatly distress you, and I am grieved to be +obliged to do it."</p> + +<p>The words changed her mood. She looked half frightened.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she burst forth, before I had time to say another word. "Is it +my husband? You say he is ill! He is not dead?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[214]</span></p> + +<p>"My dear, be calm. It is not about your husband at all. It is about +some one else, though, who is very ill—Tom Heriot."</p> + +<p>Grieved she no doubt was; but the relief that crept into her face, +tone and attitude proved that the one man was little to her compared +with the other, and that she loved her husband yet with an impassioned +love.</p> + +<p>By degrees, softening the facts as much as possible, I told the tale. +Of Tom's apprehension about the time of her marriage; his trial which +followed close upon it; his conviction, and departure for a penal +settlement; his escape; his return to England; his concealments to +evade detection; his illness; and his present state. Blanche shivered +and cried as she listened, and finally fell upon her knees, and buried +her face in the cushions of the chair.</p> + +<p>"And is there <i>no</i> hope for him, Charles?" she said, looking up after +a while.</p> + +<p>"My dear, there is no hope. And, under the circumstances, it is +happier for him to<span class="pagenum">[215]</span> die than to continue to live. But he would like to +see you, Blanche."</p> + +<p>"Poor Tom! Poor Tom! Can we go to him now—this evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is what I came to propose. It is the best time. He——"</p> + +<p>"Shall I order the carriage?"</p> + +<p>The interruption made me laugh. My Lord Level's state carriage and +powdered servants at that poor fugitive's door!</p> + +<p>"My dear, we must go in the quietest manner. We will take a cab as we +walk along, and get out of it before turning into the street where he +is lying. Change this blue silk for one of the plainest dresses that +you have, and wear a close bonnet and a veil."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course; I see. Charles, I am too thoughtless."</p> + +<p>"Wait an instant," I said, arresting her as she was crossing the room. +"I must return for a moment to our controversy touching your husband. +You complained bitterly of him last year for secluding you in<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> dull, +remote parts of the Continent, and especially for keeping you away +from England. You took up the notion, and proclaimed it to those who +would listen to you, that it was to serve his own purposes. Do you +remember this?"</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Blanche timidly, her colour coming and going as she stood +with her hands on the table. "He did keep me away; he did seclude me."</p> + +<p>"It was done out of love for you, Blanche. Whilst your heart felt +nothing but reproach for him, his was filled with care and +consideration for you; where to keep you, how to guard you from +hearing of the disgrace and trouble that had overtaken your brother. +<i>We</i> knew—I and Mr. Brightman—Lord Level's motive; and Major Carlen +knew. I believe Level would have given years of his life to save you +from the knowledge always and secure you peace. Now, Blanche, my dear, +as you perceive that, at least in that one respect, you misjudged him +then, do you not think you may be misjudging him still?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[217]</span></p> + +<p>She burst into tears. "No, I don't think so," she said. "I wish I +could think so. You know that he maintains some dreadful secret at +Marshdale; and that—that—wicked Italians are often staying +there—singers perhaps; I shouldn't wonder; or ballet-dancers—anyway, +people who can have no right and no business to be there. You know +that one of them stabbed him—Oh yes, she did, and it was a woman with +long hair."</p> + +<p>"I do not know anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Charles, you look at me reproachfully, as if the blame lay with me +instead of him. Can't you see what a misery it all is for me, and that +it is wearing my life away?" she cried passionately, the tears falling +from her eyes. "I would rather <i>die</i> than separate from him, if I were +not forced to it by the goings on at that wretched Marshdale. What +will life be worth to me, parted from him? I look forward to it with a +sick dread. Charles, I do indeed; and now, when I know—what—is +perhaps—coming——"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p> + +<p>Blanche suddenly crossed her arms upon the table, hid her face upon +them, and sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"What is perhaps coming?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it is, Charles."</p> + +<p>"But what is?"</p> + +<p>"An heir, perhaps."</p> + +<p>It was some moments before I took in the sense of the words. Then I +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh well, Blanche! Of course you ought to talk of separation with +<i>that</i> in prospect! Go and put your things on, you silly child: the +evening is wearing away."</p> + +<p>And she left the room.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Side by side on the sofa, Blanche's fair head pillowed upon his +breast, his arm thrown round her. She had taken off her bonnet and +mantle, and was crying quietly.</p> + +<p>"Be calm, my dear sister. It is all for the best."</p> + +<p>"Tom, Tom, how came you to do it?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't do it, my dear one. That's where they were mistaken. I +should be no<span class="pagenum">[219]</span> more capable of doing such a thing than you are."</p> + +<p>"Then why did they condemn you—and say you were guilty?"</p> + +<p>"They knew no better. The guilty man escaped, and I suffered."</p> + +<p>"But why did you not tell the truth? Why did you not accuse him to the +judge?"</p> + +<p>"I told the judge I was innocent; but that is what most prisoners say, +and it made no impression on him," replied Tom. "For the rest, I did +not understand the affair as well as I did after the trial. All had +been so hurried; there was no time for anything. Yes, Blanche, you may +at least take this solitary bit of consolation to your heart—that I +was not guilty."</p> + +<p>"And that other man, who was?" she asked eagerly, lifting her face. +"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Flourishing," said Tom. "Driving about the world four-in-hand, no +doubt, and taking someone else in as he took me."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[220]</span></p> + +<p>Blanche turned to me, looking haughty enough.</p> + +<p>"Charles, cannot anything be done to expose the man?" she cried. Tom +spoke again before I could answer.</p> + +<p>"It will not matter to me then, one way or the other. But, Charley, I +do sometimes wish, as I lie thinking, that the truth might be made +known and my memory cleared. I was reckless and foolish enough, heaven +knows, but I never did that for which I was tried and sentenced."</p> + +<p>Now, since we had been convinced of Tom Heriot's innocence, the +question whether it would be possible to clear him before the world +had often been in my mind. Lake and I had discussed it more than once. +It would be difficult, no doubt, but it was just possible that time +might place some advantage in our hands and open up a way to us. I +mentioned this now.</p> + +<p>"Ay, difficult enough, I dare say," commented Tom. "With a hundred +barriers in the way—eh, Charley?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[221]</span></p> + +<p>"The chief difficulty would lie, I believe, in the fact you +acknowledged just now, Tom—your own folly. People argue—they argued +at the time—that a young man so reckless as you were would not stick +at a trifle."</p> + +<p>"Just so," replied Tom with equanimity. "I ought to have pulled up +before, and—I did not. Well; you know my innocence, and now Blanche +knows it, and Level knows it, and old Carlen knows it; you are about +all that are near to me; and the public must be left to chance. +There's one good man, though, I should like to know it, Charles, and +that's Serjeant Stillingfar."</p> + +<p>"He knows it already, Tom. Be at ease on that score."</p> + +<p>"Does <i>he</i> think, I wonder, that my memory might ever be cleared?"</p> + +<p>"He thinks it would be easier to clear you than it would be to trace +the guilt to its proper quarter; but the one, you see, rests upon the +other. There are no proofs, that we know of, to bring forward of that +man's guilt; and——"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[222]</span></p> + +<p>"He took precious good care there should be none," interrupted Tom. +"Let Anstey alone for protecting himself."</p> + +<p>"Just so. But—I was going to say—the Serjeant thinks you have one +chance in your favour. It is this: The man, Anstey, being what he is, +will probably fall into some worse crime which cannot be hidden or +hushed up. When conviction overtakes him, he may be induced to confess +that it was he, and not Captain Heriot, who bore the lion's share in +that past exploit for which you suffered. Rely upon this, Tom—should +any such chance of clearing your memory present itself, it will not be +neglected. I shall be on the watch always."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a time. Tom was leaning back, pale and +exhausted, his breath was short, his face gray, wan and wasted.</p> + +<p>"Has Leah been to see you?" Blanche asked him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, twice; and she considers herself very hardly dealt by that she +may not come here to nurse me," he replied.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[223]</span></p> + +<p>"Could she not be here?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "It would not be safe, Blanche. It would be running +another risk. You see, trouble would fall upon others as well as Tom, +were he discovered now: upon me, and more especially upon Lennard."</p> + +<p>"They would be brought to trial for concealing me, just as I was +brought to trial for a different crime," said Tom lightly. "Our +English laws are comprehensive, I assure you, Blanche. Poor Leah says +it is cruel not to let her see the end. I asked her what good she'd +derive from it."</p> + +<p>Blanche gave a sobbing sigh. "How can you talk so lightly, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Lightly!" he cried, in apparent astonishment. "I don't myself see +very much that's light in that. When the end is at hand, Blanche, why +ignore it?"</p> + +<p>She turned her face again to him, burying it upon his arm, in utmost +sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Blanche!" he said, his voice trembling. "There's nothing to +cry for; nothing. My darling sister, can't you see<span class="pagenum">[224]</span> what a life mine +has been for months past: pain of body, distress and apprehension of +mind! Think what a glorious change it will be to leave all this for +Heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i> of going there, dear?" she whispered. "Have you made +your peace?"</p> + +<p>Tom smiled at her. Tears were in his own eyes.</p> + +<p>"I think so. Do you remember that wonderful answer to the petition of +the thief on the cross? The promise came back to him at once, on the +instant: 'Verily, I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in +Paradise.' He had been as much of a sinner as I, Blanche."</p> + +<p>Blanche was crying softly. Tom held her to him.</p> + +<p>"Imagine," he said, "how the change must have broken on that poor man. +To pass from the sorrow and suffering of this life into the realms of +Paradise! There was no question as to his fitness, you see, or whether +he had been good or bad; all the sin of the past was condoned when he +took<span class="pagenum">[225]</span> his humble appeal to his Redeemer: 'Lord, remember me when Thou +comest into Thy kingdom!' Blanche, my dear, I know that He will also +remember me."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i020.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[226]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i021a.jpg" width="400" height="109" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p class="h3">DOWN AT MARSHDALE.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-i.jpg" width="81" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">I</span>T</b> was Thursday morning, the day on which Blanche Level was to travel +to Marshdale. She sat in her dining-room at Gloucester Place, her +fingers busy over some delicate fancy-work, her thoughts divided +between the sad interview she had held with Tom Heriot the previous +night, and the forthcoming interview with her husband; whilst her +attention was partially given to old Mrs. Guy, who sat in an +easy-chair by the fire, a thick plaid shawl on her shoulders and her +feet on the fender, recounting the history of an extraordinary pain +which had attacked her in the<span class="pagenum">[227]</span> night. But as Mrs. Guy rarely passed a +night without experiencing some extraordinary pain or other, Blanche +listened absently.</p> + +<p>"It is the heart, my dear; I am becoming sure of that," said the old +lady. "Last year, if you remember, the physician put it down to +spleen; but when I go to him tomorrow and tell him of this dreadful +oppression, he will change his opinion."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you keep yourself too warm?" said Blanche, who looked +so cool and fresh in her pretty morning dress. "That shawl is heavy, +and the fire is warm; yet it is still quite summer weather."</p> + +<p>"Ah, child, you young people call it summer weather all the year round +if the sun only shines. When you get to be my age, Blanche, you will +know what cold means. I dare say you'll go flying off to Marshdale +this afternoon in that gossamer dress you have on, or one as thin and +flowing."</p> + +<p>"No, I shan't," laughed Blanche; "it<span class="pagenum">[228]</span> would be tumbled and spoilt by +the time I got there. I shall go in that pretty new gray cashmere, +trimmed with silk brocade."</p> + +<p>"That's a lovely dress, child; too good to travel in. And you tell me +you will be back to-morrow. I don't think that very likely, my +dear——"</p> + +<p>"But I intend to be," interrupted Blanche.</p> + +<p>"You will see," nodded the old lady. "When your husband gets you +there, he will keep you there. Give my love to him, Blanche, and say I +hope he will be in town before I go back to Jersey. I should like to +see him."</p> + +<p>Blanche was not paying particular attention to this message. Her +attention was attracted by a telegraph boy, who seemed to be +approaching the door. The next moment there was a loud knock, which +made Mrs. Guy start. Blanche explained that it was a telegram.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," cried the old lady. "I don't like telegrams; they always +give me a turn.<span class="pagenum">[229]</span> Perhaps it's come from Jersey to say my house is +burned down."</p> + +<p>The telegram, however, had come from Marshdale. It was addressed to +Lady Level, and proved to be from her husband.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<i>Do not come to Marshdale to-day. Put it off until next week. +I am writing to you. Wait for letter. Let Charles know.</i>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Now my Lady Level, staring at the message, and being in chronic +resentment against her husband, all sorts of unorthodox suspicions +rife within her, put the worst possible construction upon this +mandate.</p> + +<p>"I <i>knew</i> how much he would have me at Marshdale!" she exclaimed in +anger, as she tossed the telegram on the table. "'Don't come down till +next week! Wait for letter!' Yes, and next week there'll come another +message, telling me I am not to go at all, or that he will be back +here. It <i>is</i> a shame!"</p> + +<p>"But what is it?" cried old Mrs. Guy, who did not understand, and knew +nothing<span class="pagenum">[230]</span> of any misunderstanding between Blanche and her husband. "Not +to go, you say? Is his lordship ill?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course; very ill, indeed," returned Blanche, suppressing the +scorn she felt.</p> + +<p>Putting the telegram into an envelope, she addressed it to me, called +Sanders, and bade him take it at once to my office. He did so. But I +had also received one to the same effect from Lord Level, who, I +suppose, concluded it best to send to me direct. Telling Sanders I +would call on Lady Level that evening, I thought no more about the +matter, and was glad, rather than otherwise, that the journey to +Marshdale was delayed. This chapter, however, has to do with Blanche, +and not with me.</p> + +<p>Now, whether the step that Lady Level took had its rise in an innocent +remark made by Mrs. Guy, or whether it was the result of her own +indignant feeling, cannot be told. "My dear," said the old lady, "if +my husband were ill, I should go to him all the<span class="pagenum">[231]</span> more." And that was +just what Blanche Level resolved to do.</p> + +<p>The previous arrangement had been that she should drive to my office, +to save me time, pick me up, and so onwards to Victoria Station, to +take the four o'clock train, which would land us at Marshdale in an +hour.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I thought I understood that you were not going to Marshdale; +that the telegram stopped you," said Mrs. Guy, hearing Blanche give +orders for the carriage to be at the door at a quarter past three to +convey her to Victoria, and perceiving also that she was making +preparations for a journey.</p> + +<p>"But I intend to go all the same," replied Blanche. "And look here, +dear Mrs. Guy, Charles has sent me word that he will call here this +evening. When he comes, please give him this little note. You won't +forget?"</p> + +<p>"Not I, child. Major Carlen is always telling me I am silly; but I'm +not silly enough to forget messages."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[232]</span></p> + +<p>The barouche waited at the door at the appointed time, and Lady Level +was driven to Victoria, where she took train for Marshdale. Five +o'clock was striking out from Lower Marshdale Church when she arrived +at Marshdale Station.</p> + +<p>"Get out here, miss?" asked the porter, who saw Lady Level trying to +open the door.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Any luggage?"</p> + +<p>"Only this bag," replied Lady Level.</p> + +<p>The man took charge of it, and she alighted. Traversing the little +roadside station, she looked to where the fly generally stood; but no +fly was there. The station-master waited for her ticket.</p> + +<p>"Is the fly not here?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Seems not," answered the master indifferently. But as he spoke he +recognised Lady Level.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, my lady. The fly went off with some passengers who +alighted from the last up-train; it's not back yet."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[233]</span></p> + +<p>"Will it be long, do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Well—I—— James," he called to the porter, "where did the fly go +to?"</p> + +<p>"Over to Dimsdale," replied the man.</p> + +<p>"Then it won't be back for half an hour yet, my lady," said the +station-master to Lady Level.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't wait all that time," she returned, rather impatiently. "I +will walk. Will you be good enough to send my bag after me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll send it directly, my lady."</p> + +<p>She was stepping from the little platform when a thought struck her, +and she turned to ask a question of the station-master. "Is it safe to +cross the fields now? I remember it was said not to be so when I was +here last."</p> + +<p>"On account of Farmer Piggot's bull," replied he. "The fields are +quite safe now, my lady; the bull has been taken away."</p> + +<p>Lady Level passed in at the little gate, which stood a few yards down +the road, and was the entrance to the field-way which led<span class="pagenum">[234]</span> to +Marshdale House. It was a warm evening, calm and sunny; not a leaf +stirred; all nature seemed at rest.</p> + +<p>"What will Archibald say to me?" she wondered, her thoughts busy. "He +will fly into a passion, perhaps. I can't help it if he does. I am +determined now to find out why I am kept away from Marshdale and why +he is for ever coming to it. This underhand work has been going on too +long."</p> + +<p>At this moment, a whistle behind her, loud and shrill, caused her to +turn. She was then crossing the first field. In the distance she +espied a boy striding towards her: and soon recognised him for the +surly boy, Sam Doughty. He carried her bag, and vouchsafed her a short +nod as he came up.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Sam?" she asked pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Didn't think about its being you," was Sam's imperturbable answer, as +he walked on beside her. "When they disturbs me at<span class="pagenum">[235]</span> my tea and says I +must go right off that there same moment with a passenger's bag for +Marshdale House, I took it to be my lord's at least."</p> + +<p>"Did they not let you finish your tea?" said Lady Level with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Catch 'em," retorted Sam, in a tone of resentment. "Catch 'em a +letting me stop for a bite or a sup when there's work to do; no, not +if I was starving for 't. The master, he's a regular stinger for being +down upon a fellow's work, and t'other's a——I say," broke off Mr. +Sam, "did you ever know a rat?—one what keeps ferreting his nose into +everything as don't concern him? Then you've knowed James Runn."</p> + +<p>"James Runn is the porter, I suppose?" said Lady Level, much amused.</p> + +<p>"Well, he is, and the biggest sneak as ever growed. What did he go and +do last week? We had a lot o' passengers to get off by the down train +to Dover, the people from the Grange it were, and a sight o' trunks. +I'd been helping to stow the things<span class="pagenum">[236]</span> in the luggage-van, and the +footman, as he was getting into his second-class carriage, holds out a +shilling, open handed. I'd got my fingers upon it, I had, when that +there James Runn, that rascally porter, clutches hold of it and says +it were meant for him, not for me. I wish he was gone, I do!"</p> + +<p>"The bull is gone, I hear," remarked Lady Level.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he have been gone this long time from here," replied the boy, +shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other. "He took to run at +folks reg'lar, he did; such fun it were to hear 'em squawk! One old +woman in a red shawl he took and tossed. Mr. Drewitt up at the House +interfered then, and told Farmer Piggot the bull must be moved; so the +farmer put him over yonder on t'other side his farm into the two-acre +meadow, which haven't got no right o' way through it. I wish he had +tossed that there James Runn first and done for him!" deliberately +avowed Sam, again shifting his burden.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[237]</span></p> + +<p>"You appear to find that bag heavy," remarked Lady Level.</p> + +<p>"It's not that heavy, so to say," acknowledged the surly boy; "it's +that I be famishing for my tea. Oh, that there Runn's vicious, he +is!—a sending me off when I'd hardly took a mouthful!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I could not carry it myself," she said laughingly.</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> might ha' brought it; he had swallowed down his own tea, he had. +It's not so much he does—just rushes up to the doors o' the trains +when they comes in, on the look out for what may be give to him, +making believe he's letting folks in and out o' the carriages. I see +my lord give him a shilling t'other day; that I did."</p> + +<p>"When my lord arrived here, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, 'twarn't that day, 'twere another. My lord comes on to the +station asking about a parcel he were expecting of. Mr. Noakes, he +were gone to his dinner, and that there Runn answered my lord that he<span class="pagenum">[238]</span> +had just took the parcel to Marshdale House and left it with Mr. Snow. +Upon which my lord puts his hand in his pocket and gives him a +shilling. I see it."</p> + +<p>Lady Level laughed. It was impossible to help it. Sam's tone was so +intensely wrathful.</p> + +<p>"Do you see much of Lord Level?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I've not see'd him about for some days. It's said he's ill."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with him?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know," said Sam. "It were Dr. Hill's young man, Mitcham, I +heard say it. Mother sent me last night to Dr. Hill's for her physic, +and Mr. Mitcham he said he had not been told naught about her physic, +but he'd ask the doctor when he came back from attending upon my Lord +Level."</p> + +<p>"Is your mother ill?" inquired Sam's listener.</p> + +<p>"She be that bad, she be, as to be more fit to be a-bed nor up," +replied the boy: and his voice really took a softer tone as he<span class="pagenum">[239]</span> spoke +of his mother. "It were twins this last time, you see, and there's +such a lot to do for 'em all, mother can't spare a minute in the day +to lie by: and father's wages don't go so fur as they did when there +was less mouths at home."</p> + +<p>"How many brothers and sisters have you?"</p> + +<p>"Five," said Sam, "not counting the twins, which makes seven. I be the +eldest, and I makes eight. And, if ever I does get a shilling or a +sixpence gived me, I takes it right home to mother. I wish them there +two twins had kept away," continued Sam spitefully; "mother had her +hands full without them. Squalling things they both be."</p> + +<p>Thus, listening to the boy's confidences, Lady Level came to the +little green gate which opened to the side of the garden at Marshdale +House. Sam carried the bag to the front door. No one was to be seen. +All things, indoors and out, seemed intensely quiet.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[240]</span></p> + +<p>"You can put it down here, Sam," said Lady Level, producing +half-a-crown. "Will you give this to your mother if I give it to you?"</p> + +<p>"I always gives her everything as is gived to me," returned Sam +resentfully. "I telled ye so."</p> + +<p>Slipping it into his pocket, the boy set off again across the fields. +Lady Level rang the bell gently. Somehow she was not feeling so well +satisfied with herself for having come as she felt when she started. +Deborah opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my lady!" she exclaimed in surprise, but speaking in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"My bag is outside," said Lady Level, walking forward to the first +sitting-room, the door of which stood open. Mrs. Edwards met her.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the old lady, lifting her hands. "Then Snow +never sent those messages off properly after all! My lady, I am sorry +you should have come."</p> + +<p>"I thought I was expected, Mrs. Edwards,<span class="pagenum">[241]</span> and Mr. Strange with me," +returned Blanche coldly.</p> + +<p>"True, my lady, so you were; but a telegram was sent off this morning +to stop you. Two telegrams went, one to your ladyship and one to Mr. +Strange. It was I gave the order from my lord to Snow, and I thought I +might as well send one also to Mr. Strange, though his lordship said +nothing about it."</p> + +<p>"But why was I stopped?" questioned Blanche.</p> + +<p>"On account of my lord's increased illness," replied Mrs. Edwards. "He +grew much worse in the night; and when Mr. Hill saw how it was with +him this morning, he said your ladyship's visit must be put off. Mr. +Hill is with him now."</p> + +<p>"Of what nature is his illness?"</p> + +<p>"My lady, he has not been very well since he came down. When he got +here we remarked that he seemed low-spirited. In a few days he began +to be feverish, and asked me to get him some lemonade made.<span class="pagenum">[242]</span> Quarts of +it he drank: cook protested there'd be a failure of lemons in the +village. 'It is last year's fever back again,' said his lordship to +me, speaking in jest. But, strange to say, he might as well have +spoken in earnest, for it turns out to be the same sort of fever +precisely."</p> + +<p>"Is he very ill?"</p> + +<p>"He is very ill indeed to-day," answered Mrs. Edwards. "Until this +morning it was thought to be a light attack, no danger attending it, +nor any symptom of delirium. But that has all changed, and this +afternoon he is slightly delirious."</p> + +<p>"Is there—danger?" cried Blanche.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hill says not, my lady. Not yet, at all events. But—here he is," +broke off Mrs. Edwards, as the doctor's step was heard. "He will be +able to explain more of the illness to your ladyship than I can."</p> + +<p>She left the room as Mr. Hill entered it. The same cheerful, hearty +man that Blanche had known last year, with a fine brow and benevolent +countenance. Blanche shook<span class="pagenum">[243]</span> hands with him, and he sat down near her.</p> + +<p>"So you did not get the telegram," he began, after greeting her.</p> + +<p>"I did get it," answered Blanche, feeling rather ashamed to be obliged +to confess it. "But I—I was ready, and I thought I would come all the +same."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity," said Mr. Hill. "You must not let your husband see you. +Indeed, the best thing you can do will be to go back again."</p> + +<p>"But why?" asked Blanche, turning obstinate. "What have I done to him +that he may not see me?"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand, child," said the surgeon, speaking in his +fatherly way. "His lordship is in a critical state, the disease having +manifested itself with alarming rapidity. If he can be kept perfectly +calm and still, its progress may be arrested and danger averted. If +not, it will assuredly turn to brain-fever and must run its course. +Anything likely to rouse him in the smallest<span class="pagenum">[244]</span> degree, no matter +whether it be pleasure or pain, must be absolutely kept from him. Only +the sight of you might bring on an excitement that might be—well, I +was going to say fatal. That is why I suggested to his lordship to +send off the telegram."</p> + +<p>"You knew I was coming down, then?" said Blanche.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I did know; and—— But, bless me, I ought to apologize to +your ladyship for my familiarity of speech," broke off the kindly +doctor, with a smile.</p> + +<p>Blanche answered by smiling too, and putting her hand into his.</p> + +<p>"I lost a daughter when she was about your age, my dear; you put me in +mind of her; I said so to Mrs. Edwards when you were here last autumn. +She was my only child, and my wife was already gone. Well, well! But +that's beside the present question," he added briskly. "Will you go +back to town, Lady Level?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather remain, now I am here," she answered. "At least, for a +day or two.<span class="pagenum">[245]</span> I will take care not to show myself to Lord Level."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the doctor, rising. "Do not let him either hear you +or see you. I shall be in again at nine to-night."</p> + +<p>"Who is nursing him?" asked Blanche.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Edwards. She is the best nurse in the world. Snow, the head +gardener, helps occasionally; he will watch by him to-night; and +Deborah fetches and carries."</p> + +<p>Lady Level took contrition to herself as she sat alone. She had been +mentally accusing her husband of all sorts of things, whilst he was +really lying in peril of his life. Matters and mysteries pertaining to +Marshdale were not cleared up; but—Blanche could not discern any +particular mystery to wage war with just now.</p> + +<p>Tea was served to her, and Blanche would not allow them to think of +dinner. Mrs. Edwards had a room prepared for her in a different +corridor from Lord Level's, so that he would not be in danger of +hearing her voice or footsteps.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[246]</span></p> + +<p>Very lonely felt Blanche when twilight fell, as she sat at the window. +She thought she had never seen trees look so melancholy before, and +she recalled what Charles Strange had always said—that the sight of +trees in the gloaming caused him to be curiously depressed. Presently, +wrapping a blue cloud about her head and shoulders, she strolled out +of doors.</p> + +<p>It was nearly dark now, and the overhanging trees made it darker. +Blanche strolled to the front gate and looked up and down the road. +Not a soul was about; not a sound broke the stillness. The house +behind her was gloomy enough; no light to be seen save the faint one +that burnt in Lord Level's chamber, whose windows faced this way; or a +flash that now and then appeared in the passages from a lamp carried +by someone moving about.</p> + +<p>Blanche walked up and down, now in this path, now in that, now sitting +on a bench to think, under the dark trees. By-and-by, she heard the +front door open and someone<span class="pagenum">[247]</span> come down the path, cross to the side +path, unlock the small door that led into the garden of the East Wing +and enter it. By the very faint light remaining, she thought she +recognised John Snow, the gardener.</p> + +<p>She distinctly heard his footsteps pass up the other garden; she +distinctly heard the front door of the East Wing open to admit him, +and close again. Prompted by idle curiosity, Blanche also approached +the little door in the wall, found it shut, but not locked, opened it, +went in, advanced to where she had full view of the wing, and stood +gazing up at it. Like the other part of the house, it loomed out dark +and gloomy: the upper windows appeared to have outer bars before them; +at least, Blanche thought so. Only in one room was there any light.</p> + +<p>It was in a lower room, a sitting-room, no doubt. The lamp, standing +on the centre table, was bright; the window was thrown up. Beside it +sat someone at work; crochet-work, or knitting, or tatting; something +or other done with the fingers. Mrs. Snow<span class="pagenum">[248]</span> amusing herself, thought +Blanche at first; but in a moment she saw that it was not Mrs. Snow. +The face was dark and handsome, and the black hair was adorned with +black lace. With a sensation as of some mortal agony rushing and +whirling through her veins, Lady Level recognised her. It was Nina, +the Italian.</p> + +<p>Nina, who had been the object of her suspicious jealousy; Nina, who +was, beyond doubt, the attraction that drew her husband to Marshdale; +and who, as she fully believed, had been the one to stab him a year +ago!</p> + +<p>Blanche crept back to her own garden. Finding instinctively the +darkest seat it contained, she sat down upon it with a faint cry of +despair.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i022.jpg" width="150" height="158" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[249]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i023a.jpg" width="400" height="117" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">IN THE EAST WING.</p> + +<div> +<img class="dropimg" src="images/letter-w.jpg" width="82" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">W</span>HAT</b> will not a jealous and angry woman do? On the next morning +(Friday) Blanche Level, believing herself to be more ignominiously +treated than ever wife was yet, despatched a couple of telegrams to +London, both of them slightly incomprehensible. One of the telegrams +was to Charles Strange, the other to Arnold Ravensworth; and both were +to the same effect—they must hasten down to Marshdale to her +"protection" and "rescue." And Mr. Ravensworth was requested to bring +his wife.</p> + +<p>"She will be some little countenance for<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> me; I'm sure I dare not +think how I must be looked upon here," mentally spoke my Lady Level in +her glowing indignation.</p> + +<p>Lord Level was better. When Mr. Hill paid his early visit that Friday +morning, he pronounced him to be very much better; and John Snow said +his lordship had passed a quiet night. "If we can only keep him +tranquil to-day and to-night again, there will be no further danger +from the fever," Mr. Hill then observed to Lady Level.</p> + +<p>The day went on, the reports from the sick-room continuing favourable: +my lord was lying tranquil, his mind clear. My lady, down below, was +anything but tranquil: rather she felt herself in a raging fever. In +the evening, quite late, the two gentlemen arrived from London, not +having been able to come earlier. Mrs. Ravensworth was not with them; +she could not leave her delicate baby. Lady Level had given orders for +chambers to be prepared.</p> + +<p>After they had partaken of refreshments, which brought the time to ten +o'clock,<span class="pagenum">[251]</span> Lady Level opened upon her grievances—past and present. +Modest and reticent though her language still was, she contrived to +convey sundry truths to them. From the early days of her marriage she +had unfortunately had cause to suspect Lord Level of disloyalty to +herself and of barefaced loyalty to another. Her own eyes had seen him +more than once with the girl called Nina at Pisa; had seen him at her +house, sitting side by side with her in her garden smoking and +talking—had heard him address her by her Christian name. This woman, +as she positively knew, had followed Lord Level to England; this woman +was harboured at Marshdale. She was in the house now, in its East +Wing. She, Blanche, had seen her there the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth's severe countenance took a stern expression as he +listened; he believed every word. Charles Strange (I am not speaking +just here in my own person) still thought there might be a mistake +somewhere. He could not readily take up so<span class="pagenum">[252]</span> bad an opinion of Lord +Level, although circumstances did appear to tell against him. His +incredulity irritated Blanche.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you, then, Charles, what I have never disclosed to mortal +man," she flashed forth, in a passionate whisper, bending forward her +pretty face, now growing whiter than death. "You remember that attack +upon Lord Level last autumn. You came down at the time, Arnold——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. What about it?"</p> + +<p>"It was that woman who stabbed him!"</p> + +<p>Neither spoke for a moment. "Nonsense, Blanche!" said Mr. Strange.</p> + +<p>"But I tell you that it was. She was in night-clothes, or something of +that kind, and her black hair was falling about her; but I could not +mistake her Italian face."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth did not forget Lady Level's curious behaviour at the +time; he had thought then she suspected someone in particular. "Are +you <i>sure</i>?" he asked her now.</p> + +<p>"I am sure. And you must both see<span class="pagenum">[253]</span> the danger I may be in whilst +here," she added, with a shiver. "That woman may try to stab me, as +she stabbed him. She must have stabbed him out of jealousy, because +I—her rival—was there."</p> + +<p>"You had better quit the house the first thing in the morning, Lady +Level, and return to London," said Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"That I will not do," she promptly answered. "I will not leave +Marshdale until these shameful doings are investigated; and I have +sent for you to act on my behalf and bring them to light. No longer +shall the reproach be perpetually cast upon me by papa and Charles +Strange, that I complain of my husband without cause. It is my turn +now."</p> + +<p>That something must be done, in justice to Lady Level, or at least +attempted, they both saw. But what, or how to set about it, neither of +them knew. They remained in consultation together long after Blanche +had retired to rest.</p> + +<p>"We will go out at daybreak and have a<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> look at the windows of this +East Wing," finally observed Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>Perhaps that was easier said than done. With the gray light of early +morning they were both out of doors; but they could not find any +entrance to the East Wing. The door in the wall of the front garden +was locked; the entrance gates from the road were locked also. In the +garden at the back—it was more of a wilderness than a garden—they +discovered a small gate in a corner. It was completely overgrown with +trees and shrubs, and had evidently not been used for years and years. +But the wood had become rotten, the fastenings loose; and by their +united strength they opened it.</p> + +<p>They found themselves in a very large space of ground indeed. Grass +was in the middle, quite a field of it; and round it a broad gravel +walk. Encompassing all on three sides rose a wide bank of shrubs and +overhanging trees. Beyond these again was a very high wall. On the +fourth side stood<span class="pagenum">[255]</span> the East Wing, high and gloomy. Its windows were +all encased with iron bars, and the lower windows were whitened.</p> + +<p>Taking a survey of all this, one of them softly whispering in +surprise, Mr. Ravensworth advanced to peer in at the windows. Of +course, being whitened, he had his trouble for his pains.</p> + +<p>"It puts me in mind of a prison," remarked Charles Strange.</p> + +<p>"It puts me in mind of a madhouse," was the laconic rejoinder of Mr. +Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>They passed back through the gate again, Mr. Ravensworth turning to +take a last look. In that minute his eye was attracted to one of the +windows on the ground floor. It opened down the middle, like a French +one, and was being shaken, apparently with a view to opening it—and +if you are well acquainted with continental windows, or windows made +after their fashion, you may remember how long it has taken you to +shake a refractory window before it will obey. It was at length +effected, and in the<span class="pagenum">[256]</span> opening, gazing with a vacant, silly expression +through the close bars, appeared a face. It remained in view but a +moment; the window was immediately closed again, Mr. Ravensworth +thought by another hand. What was the mystery?</p> + +<p>That some mystery did exist at Marshdale, apart from any Italian +ladies who might have no fair right to be there, was pretty evident. +At breakfast the gentlemen related this little experience to Blanche.</p> + +<p>Madame Blanche tossed her head in incredulity. "Don't be taken in," +she answered. "Windows whitened and barred, indeed! It is all done +with a view to misleading people. She was sitting at the <i>open</i> window +at work on Thursday night."</p> + +<p>After breakfast, resolved no longer to be played with, Blanche +proceeded upstairs to Mr. Drewitt's rooms, her friends following her, +all three of them creeping by Lord Level's chamber-door with noiseless +steps. His lordship was getting better quite wonderfully, Mrs. Edwards +had told them.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[257]</span></p> + +<p>The old gentleman, in his quaint costume, was in his sitting-room, +taking his breakfast alone. Mrs. Edwards took her meals anywhere, and +at any time, during her lord's illness. Hearing strange footsteps in +the corridor, he rose to see whose they were, and looked considerably +astonished.</p> + +<p>"Does your ladyship want me?" he asked, bowing.</p> + +<p>"I—yes, I think I do," answered Lady Level. "Who keeps the key of +that door, Mr. Drewitt?" pointing to the strong oaken door at the end +of the passage.</p> + +<p>"I keep it, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Then will you be kind enough to unlock it for me? These gentlemen +wish to examine the East Wing."</p> + +<p>"The East Wing is private to his lordship," was the steward's reply, +addressing them all conjointly. "Without his authority I cannot open +it to anyone."</p> + +<p>They stood contending a little while: it was like a repetition of the +scene that had been enacted there once before; and, like<span class="pagenum">[258]</span> that, was +terminated by the same individual—the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"It is all right, Mr. Drewitt." he said; "you can open the door of the +East Wing; I bear you my lord's orders. I am going in there to see a +patient," he added to the rest.</p> + +<p>The steward produced a key from his pocket, and put it into the lock. +It was surprising that so small a key should open so massive a door.</p> + +<p>They passed, wonderingly, through three rooms <i>en suite</i>: a +sitting-room, a bedroom, and a bath-room. All these rooms looked to +the back of the house. Other rooms there were on the same floor, which +the visitors did not touch upon. Descending the staircase, they +entered three similar rooms below. In the smaller one lay some +garden-tools, but of a less size than a grown man in his strength +would use, and by their side were certain toys: tops, hoops, ninepins, +and the like. The middle room was a sitting-room; the larger room +beyond had<span class="pagenum">[259]</span> no furniture, and in that, standing over a humming-top, +which he had just set to spin on the floor, bent the singular figure +of a youth. He had a dark, vacant face, wild black eyes, and a mass of +thick black hair, cut short. This figure, a child's whip in his hand, +was whipping the top, and making a noise with his mouth in imitation +of its hum.</p> + +<p>Half madman, half idiot, he stood out, in all his deep misfortune, +raising himself up and staring about him with a vacant stare. The +expression of Mr. Ravensworth's face changed to one of pity. "Who are +you?" he exclaimed in kindly tones. "What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Arnie!" was the mechanical answer, for brains and sense seemed to +have little to do with it; and, catching up his top, he backed against +the wall, and burst into a distressing laugh. Distressing to a +listener; not distressing to him, poor fellow.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" asked Mr. Ravensworth of the doctor.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[260]</span></p> + +<p>"An imbecile."</p> + +<p>"So I see. But what connection has he with Lord Level's family?"</p> + +<p>"He is a connection, or he would not be here."</p> + +<p>"Can he be—be—a son of Lord Level's?"</p> + +<p>"A son!" interposed the steward, "and my lord but just married! No, +sir, he is not a son, he is none so near as that; he is but a +connection of the Level family."</p> + +<p>The lad came forward from the wall where he was standing, and held out +his top to his old friend the doctor. "Do, do," he cried, spluttering +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Arnie, you can set it up better than I: my back won't stoop +well, Arnie."</p> + +<p>"Do, do," was the persistent request, the top held out still.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ravensworth took it and set it up again, he looking on in greedy +eagerness, slobbering and making a noise with his mouth. Then his note +changed to a hum, and he whipped away as before.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[261]</span></p> + +<p>"Why is he not put away in an asylum?" asked Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"Put away in an asylum!" retorted the old steward indignantly. "Where +could he be put to have the care and kindness that is bestowed upon +him here? Imbecile though he is, madman though he may be, he is dear +to me and my sister. We pass our lives tending him, in conjunction +with Snow and his wife, doing for him, soothing him: where else could +that be done? You don't know what you are saying, sir. My lord, who +received the charge from his father, comes down to see him: my lord +orders that everything should be done for his comfort. And do you +suppose it is fitting that his condition should be made public? The +fact of one being so afflicted is slur enough upon the race of Level, +without its being proclaimed abroad."</p> + +<p>"It was he who attacked Lord Level last year?</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was; and how he could have escaped to our part of the house +will be a<span class="pagenum">[262]</span> marvel to me for ever. My sister says I could not have +slipped the bolt of the passage door as usual, but I know I did bolt +it. Arnie had been restless that day; he has restless fits; and I +suppose he could not sleep, and must have risen from his bed and come +to my sitting-room. On my table there I had left my pocket-knife, a +new knife, the blades bright and sharp; and this he must have picked +up and opened, and found his way with it to my lord's chamber. Why he +should have attacked him, or anyone else, I know not; he never had a +ferocious fit before."</p> + +<p>"Never," assented Mr. Hill, in confirmation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Drewitt continued: "He has been imbecile and harmless as you see +him now, but he has never disturbed us at night; he has, as I say, +fits of restlessness when he cannot sleep, but he is sufficiently +sensible to ring a bell communicating with Snow's chamber if he wants +anything. If ever he has rung, it has been to say he wants meat."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[263]</span></p> + +<p>"Meat!"</p> + +<p>The steward nodded. "But it has never been given to him. He is cunning +as a fox; they all are; and were we to begin giving him food in the +middle of the night we must continue to do it, or have no peace. +Eating is his one enjoyment in life, and he devours everything set +before him—meat especially. If we have any particular dainty upstairs +for dinner or supper, I generally take him in some. Deborah, I +believe, thinks I eat all that comes up, and sets me down for a +cannibal. He has a hot supper every night. About a year ago we got to +think it might be better for him to have a lighter one, and we tried +it for a week; but he moaned and cried all night long for his hot +meat, and we had to give it him again. The night this happened we had +veal cutlets and bacon, and he had the same. He asked for more, but I +would not give it; perhaps that angered him, and he mistook my lord +for me. Mr. Hill thought it might be so. I shall never be able to +account for it."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[264]</span></p> + +<p>The doctor nodded assent; and the speaker went on:</p> + +<p>"His hair was long then, and he must have looked just like a maniac +when the fit of fury lay upon him. Little wonder that my lady was +frightened at the sight of him. After he had done the deed he ran back +to his own room; I, aroused by the commotion, found him in his bed. He +burst out laughing when he saw me: 'I got your knife, I got your +knife,' he called out, as if it were a feat to be proud of. His +movements must have been silent and stealthy, for Snow had heard +nothing."</p> + +<p>At this moment there occurred an interruption. The Italian lady +approached the room with timid, hesitating steps, and peeped in. "Ah, +how do you do, doctor?" she said in a sweet, gentle voice, as she held +out her hand to Mr. Hill. Her countenance was mild, open, and honest; +and a conviction rushed on the instant into Blanche's mind that she +had been misjudging that foreign lady.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[265]</span></p> + +<p>"These good gentlepeople are come to see our poor patient?" she added, +curtseying to them with native grace, her accent quite foreign. "The +poor, poor boy," tears filling her eyes. "And I foretell that this +must be my lord's wife!" addressing Blanche. "Will she permit a poor +humble stranger to shake her by the hand for her lord's sake—her +lord, who has been so good to us?"</p> + +<p>"This lady is sister to the unfortunate boy's mother," said the +doctor, in low tones to Blanche. "She is a good woman, and worthy to +shake hands with you, my lady."</p> + +<p>"But who was his father?" whispered Blanche.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Francis Level; my lord's dead brother."</p> + +<p>Her countenance radiant, Blanche took the lady's hand and warmly +clasped it. "You live here to take care of the poor lad," she said.</p> + +<p>"But no, madam. I do but come at intervals to see him, all the way +from Pisa,<span class="pagenum">[266]</span> in Italy. And also I have had to come to bring documents +and news to my lord, respecting matters that concern him and the poor +lad. But it is over now," she added. "The week after the one next to +come, Arnie goes back with me to Italy, his native country, and my +journeys to this country will be ended. His mother, who is always ill +and not able to travel, wishes now to have her afflicted son with +her."</p> + +<p>Back in the other house again, after wishing Nina Sparlati good-day, +the astonished visitors gathered in Mr. Drewitt's room to listen to +the tale which had to be told them. Mrs. Edwards, who was awaiting +them, and fonder of talking than her brother, was the principal +narrator. Blanche went away, whispering to Charles Strange that she +would hear it from him afterwards.</p> + +<p>"We were abroad in Italy," Mrs. Edwards began: "it is many years ago. +The late lord, our master then, went for his health, which was +declining, though he was but a middle-aged man, and I and my brother<span class="pagenum">[267]</span> +were with him, his personal attendants, but treated more like friends. +The present lord, Mr. Archibald, named after his father, was with +us—he was the second son, not the heir; the eldest son, Mr. +Level—Francis was his name—had been abroad for years, and was then +in another part of Italy. He came to see his father when we first got +out to Florence, but he soon left again. 'He'll die before my lord,' I +said to Mr. Archibald; for if ever I saw consumption on a man's face, +it was on Mr. Level's. And I remember Mr. Archibald's answer as if it +was but yesterday: 'That's just one of your fancies, nurse: Frank +tells me he has looked the last three years as he looks now.' But I +was right, sir; for shortly after that we received news of the death +of Mr. Level; and then Mr. Archibald was the heir. My lord, who had +grown worse instead of better, was very ill then."</p> + +<p>"Did the late lord die in Italy?" questioned Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"You shall hear, sir. He grew very ill,<span class="pagenum">[268]</span> I say, and we thought he +would be sure to move homewards, but he still stayed on. 'Archibald +likes Florence,' he would say, 'and it's all the same to me where I +am.' 'Young Level stops for the <i>beaux yeux</i> of the Tuscan women,' the +world said—but you know, sir, the world always was censorious; and +young men will be young men. However, we were at last on the move; +everything was packed and prepared for leaving, when there arrived an +ill-favoured young woman, with some papers and a little child, two +years old. Its face frightened me when I saw it. It was, as a child, +what it is now as a growing man; and you have seen it today," she +added in a whisper. "'What is the matter with him?' I asked, for I +could speak a little Italian. 'He's a born natural, as yet,' she +answered, 'but the doctors think he may outgrow it in part.' 'But who +is he? what does he do here?' I said. 'He's the son of Mr. Level,' she +replied, 'and I have brought him to the family, for his mother, who +was my sister, is also dead.'<span class="pagenum">[269]</span> 'He the son of Mr. Level!' I uttered, +knowing she must speak of Mr. Francis. 'Well, you need not bring him +here: we English do not recognise chance children.' 'They were married +three years ago,' she coolly answered, 'and I have brought the papers +to prove it. Mr. Level was a gentleman and my sister not much above a +peasant; but she was beautiful and good, and he married her, and this +is their child. She has been dying by inches since her husband died; +she is now dead, and I am come here to give up the child to his +father's people."</p> + +<p>"Was it true?" interrupted Mr. Strange.</p> + +<p>"My lord thought so, sir, and took kindly to the child. He was brought +home here, and the East Wing was made his nursery——"</p> + +<p>"Then that—that—poor wretch down there is the true Lord Level!" +interrupted Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"One day, when my lord was studying the documents the woman had left," +resumed Mrs. Edwards, passing by the remark with a<span class="pagenum">[270]</span> glance, "something +curious struck him in the certificate of marriage; he thought it was +forged. He showed it to Mr. Archibald, and they decided to go back to +Italy, leaving the child here. All the inquiries they made there +tended to prove that, though the child was indeed Mr. Francis Level's, +there had been no marriage, or semblance of one. All the same, said my +lord, the poor child shall be kindly reared and treated and provided +for: and Mr. Archibald solemnly promised his father it should be so. +My lord died at Florence, and Mr. Archibald came back Lord Level."</p> + +<p>"And he never forgot his promise to his father," interposed the +steward, "but has treated the child almost as though he were a true +son, consistent with his imbecile state. That East Wing has been his +happy home, as Mr. Hill can testify: he has toys to amuse him, the +garden to dig in, which is his favourite pastime; and Snow draws him +about the paths in his hand-carriage on fine days. It is a sad +misfortune, for him and<span class="pagenum">[271]</span> for the family; but my lord has done his +best."</p> + +<p>"It would have been a greater for my lord had the marriage been a +legal one," remarked Mr. Ravensworth.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that," sharply spoke up the doctor. "As an idiot I +believe he could not inherit. However, the marriage was not a legal +one, and my lord is my lord. The mother is not dead; that was a +fabrication also; but she is ill, helpless, and is pining for her son; +so now he is to be taken to her; my lord, in his generosity, securing +him an ample income. It was not the mother who perpetrated the fraud, +but the avaricious eldest sister. This sister, the one you have just +seen, is the youngest; she is good and honourable, and has done her +best to unravel the plot."</p> + +<p>That was all the explanation given to Mr. Ravensworth. But the doctor +put his arm within that of Charles Strange, and took him into the +presence of Lord Level.</p> + +<p>"Well," said his lordship, who was then<span class="pagenum">[272]</span> sitting up in bed, and held +out his hand, "have you been hearing all about the mysteries, +Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," smiled Mr. Strange. "I felt sure that whatever the mystery +might be, it was one you could safely explain away if you chose."</p> + +<p>"Ay: though Blanche did take up the other view and want to cut my head +off."</p> + +<p>"She was your own wife, your <i>loving</i> wife, I am certain: why not have +told her?"</p> + +<p>"Because I wanted to be quite sure of certain things first," replied +Lord Level. "Listen, Charles: you have my tale to hear yet. Sit down. +Sit down, Hill. How am I to talk while you stand?" he asked, laughing.</p> + +<p>"When we were in Paris after our marriage a year ago, I received two +shocks on one and the same morning," began Lord Level. "The one told +me of the trouble Tom Heriot had fallen into; the other, contained in +a letter from Pisa, informed me that there <i>had been a marriage</i> after +all between my<span class="pagenum">[273]</span> brother and that girl, Bianca Sparlati. If so, of +course, that imbecile lad stood between me and the title and estate; +though I don't think he could legally inherit. But I did not believe +the information. I felt sure that it was another invented artifice of +Annetta, the wretched eldest sister, who is a grasping intriguante. I +started at once for Pisa, where they live, to make inquiries in +person: travelling by all sorts of routes, unfrequented by the +English, that my wife might not hear of her brother's disgrace. At +Pisa I found difficulties: statements met me that seemed to prove +there had been a marriage, and I did not see my way to disprove them. +Nina, a brave, honest girl, confessed to me that she doubted them, and +I begged of her, for truth and right's sake, to help me as far as she +could. I cannot enter into details now, Strange; I am not strong +enough for it; enough to say that ever since, nearly a whole year, +have I been trying to ferret out the truth: and I only got at it a +week ago."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[274]</span></p> + +<p>"And there was no marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him, Hill," said Lord Level, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, a sort of ceremony did pass between Francis Level and that +young woman, but both of them knew at the time it was not legal, or +one that could ever stand good," said the doctor. "Now the real facts +have come to light. It seems that Bianca had been married when very +young to a sailor named Dromio; within a month of the wedding he +sailed away again and did not return. She thought him dead, took up +her own name again and went home to her family; and later became +acquainted with Francis Level. Now, the sailor has turned up again, +alive and well——"</p> + +<p>"The first husband!" exclaimed Charles Strange.</p> + +<p>"If you like to call him so," said Mr. Hill; "there was never a +second. Well, the sailor has come to the fore again; and +honest-hearted Nina travelled here from Pisa with the news, and we +sent for his<span class="pagenum">[275]</span> lordship to come down and hear it. He was also wanted +for another matter. The boy had had a sort of fit, and I feared he +would die. My lord heard what Nina had to tell him when he arrived; he +did not return at once to London, for Arnie was still in danger, and +he waited to see the issue. Very shortly he was taken ill himself, and +could not get away. It was good news, though, about that resuscitated +sailor!" laughed the doctor, after a pause. "All's well that ends +well, and my Lord Level is his own man again."</p> + +<p>Charles Strange sought an interview with his sister—as he often +called her—and imparted to her these particulars. He then left at +once for London with Mr. Ravensworth. Their mission at Marshdale was +over.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Lord Level, up and dressed, lay on a sofa in his bedroom in the +afternoon. Blanche sat on a footstool beside him. Her face was hidden +upon her husband's knee and she was crying bitter tears.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[276]</span></p> + +<p>"Shall you ever forgive me, Archibald?"</p> + +<p>He was smiling quietly. "Some husbands might say no."</p> + +<p>"You don't know how miserable I have been."</p> + +<p>"Don't I! But how came you to fall into such notions at first, +Blanche? To suspect me of ill at all?"</p> + +<p>"It was that Mrs. Page Reid who was with us at Pisa. She said all +sorts of things."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Won't</i> you forgive me, Archibald?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, upon condition that you trust me fully in future. Will you, +love?" he softly whispered.</p> + +<p>She could not speak for emotion.</p> + +<p>"And the next time you have a private grievance against me, Blanche, +tell it out plainly," he said, as he held her to him and gave her kiss +for kiss.</p> + +<p>"My darling, yes. But I shall never have another."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[277]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i024a.jpg" width="400" height="107" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p class="h3">CONCLUSION.</p> + +<div class="dropimg"> +<img src="images/letter-i-comma.jpg" width="85" height="80" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p><b><span class="hide">I,</span> CHARLES STRANGE</b>, took up this story at its commencement, and I take +it up now at its close.</p> + +<hr class="tb clearboth" /> + +<p>It was a lovely day at the end of summer, in the year following the +events recorded in the last chapter, and we were again at Marshdale +House.</p> + +<p>The two individuals who had chiefly marred the peace of one or another +of us in the past were both gone where disturbance is not. Poor Tom +Heriot was mouldering in his grave near to that in which his<span class="pagenum">[278]</span> father +and mother lay, not having been discovered by the police or molested +in any way; and the afflicted Italian lad had died soon after he was +taken to his native land. Mr. Hill had warned Nina Sparlati that, in +all probability, he would not live long. Mrs. Brightman, I may as well +say it here, had recovered permanently; recovered in all ways, as we +hoped and believed. The long restraint laid upon her by her illness +had effected the cure that nothing else might have been able to +effect, and re-established the good habits she had lost. But Miss +Brightman was dead; she had not lived to come home from Madeira, and +the whole of her fortune was left to Annabel. "So you can live where +you please now and go in for grandeur," Arthur Lake said to me and my +wife. "All in good time," laughed Annabel; "I am not yet tired of +Essex Street."</p> + +<p>And now we had come down in the sunny August weather when the courts +were up, to stay at Marshdale.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[279]</span></p> + +<p>You might be slow to recognise it, though. Recalling the picture of +Marshdale House as it was, and looking at it now, many would have said +it could not be the same.</p> + +<p>The dreary old structure had been converted into a light and beautiful +mansion. The whitened windows with their iron bars were no more. The +disfiguring, unnaturally-high walls were gone, and the tangled shrubs +and weeds, the overgrowth of trees that had made the surrounding land +a wilderness, were now turned into lovely pleasure-grounds. The gloomy +days had given place to sunny ones, said Lord Level, and the gloomy +old structure, with its gloomy secrets, should be remembered no more.</p> + +<p>Marshdale was now their chief home, his and his wife's, with their +establishment of servants. Mr. Drewitt and Mrs. Edwards had moved into +a pretty dwelling hard by; but they were welcomed whenever they liked +to go to the house, and were treated as friends. The steward kept the +accounts still, and Mrs. Edwards was appealed to by<span class="pagenum">[280]</span> Blanche in all +domestic difficulties. She rarely appeared before her lady but in her +quaint gala attire.</p> + +<p>We were taking tea out of doors at the back of the renovated East +Wing. The air bore that Sabbath stillness which Sunday seems to bring: +distant bells, ringing the congregation out of church, fell +melodiously on the ear. We had been idle this afternoon and stayed at +home, but all had attended service in the morning. Mr. Hill had called +in and was sitting with us. Annabel presided at the rustic tea-table; +Blanche was a great deal too much occupied with her baby-boy, whom she +had chosen to have brought out: a lively young gentleman in a blue +sash, whose face greatly resembled his father's. Next to Lord Level +sat my uncle, who had come down for a week's rest. He was no longer +Serjeant Stillingfar; but Sir Charles, and one of her Majesty's +judges.</p> + +<p>"Won't you have some tea, my dear?" he said to Blanche, who was +parading the baby.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[281]</span></p> + +<p>By the way, they had named him Charles. Charles Archibald; to be +called by the former name: Lord Level protested he would not have +people saying Young Archie and Old Archie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Blanche," said he, taking up the suggestion of the judge. "Do +let that child go indoors: one might think he was a new toy. Here, +I'll take him."</p> + +<p>"Archibald need not talk," laughed Blanche, looking after her husband, +who had taken the child from her and was tossing it as he went +indoors. "He is just as fond of having the baby as I am. Neither need +you laugh, Mr. Charles," turning upon me; "your turn will come soon, +you know."</p> + +<p>Leaving the child in its nursery in the East Wing, Lord Level came +back to his place; and we sat on until evening approached. A peaceful +evening, promising a glorious sunset. An hour after midday, when we +had just got safely in from church, there had been a storm of thunder +and lightning, and it had cleared the sultry air.<span class="pagenum">[282]</span> The blue sky above, +flecked with gold, was of a lovely rose colour towards the west.</p> + +<p>"The day has been a type of life: or of what life ought to be," +suddenly remarked Mr. Hill. "Storm and cloud succeeded by peace and +sunshine."</p> + +<p>"The end is not always peaceful," said Lord Level.</p> + +<p>"It mostly is when we have worked on for it patiently," said the +judge. "My friends, you may take the word of an old man for it—that a +life of storm and trouble, through which we have struggled manfully to +do our duty under God, ever bearing on in reliance upon Him, must of +necessity end in peace. Perhaps not always perfect and entire peace in +this world; but assuredly in that which is to come."</p> + +<p class="h3">THE END.</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 Note:</p> + +<p>Inconsistent and archaic spelling retained.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange, Vol. 3 +(of 3), by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + +***** This file should be named 38625-h.htm or 38625-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/6/2/38625/ + +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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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. 3 (of 3) + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: January 20, 2012 [EBook #38625] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 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. III. + + + LONDON: + RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen + 1888 + [_All Rights Reserved_] + + + + + CONTENTS OF VOL. III. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. ON THE WATCH 1 + + II. TOM HERIOT 29 + + III. AN EVENING VISITOR 46 + + IV. RESTITUTION 64 + + V. CONFESSION 92 + + VI. DANGER 117 + + VII. WITH MR. JONES 136 + + VIII. AN ACCIDENT 165 + + IX. LAST DAYS 185 + + X. LAST WORDS 203 + + XI. DOWN AT MARSHDALE 226 + + XII. IN THE EAST WING 249 + + XIII. CONCLUSION 260 + + + + +THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +ON THE WATCH. + + +Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar sat at dinner in his house in Russell Square +one Sunday afternoon. A great cause, in which he was to lead, had +brought him up from circuit, to which he would return when the Nisi +Prius trial was over. The cloth was being removed when I entered. He +received me with his usual kindly welcome. + +"Why not have come to dinner, Charles? Just had it, you say? All the +more reason why we might have had it together. Sit down, and help +yourself to wine." + +Declining the wine, I drew my chair near to his, and told him what I +had come about. + +A few days had gone on since the last chapter. With the trouble +connected with Mrs. Brightman, and the trouble connected with Tom +Heriot, I had enough on my mind at that time, if not upon my +shoulders. As regarded Mrs. Brightman, no one could help me; but +regarding the other---- + +Was Tom in London, or was he not? How was I to find out? I had again +gone prowling about the book-stall and its environs, and had seen no +trace of him. Had Leah really seen him, or only some other man who +resembled him? + +Again I questioned Leah. Her opinion was not to be shaken. She held +emphatically to her assertion. It was Tom that she had seen, and none +other. + +"You may have seen some other sailor, sir; I don't say to the +contrary; but the sailor I saw was Captain Heriot," she reiterated. +"Suppose I go again to-night, sir? I may, perhaps, have the good luck +to see him." + +"Should you call it good luck, Leah?" + +"Ah well, sir, you know what I mean," she answered. "Shall I go +to-night?" + +"No, Leah; I am going myself. I cannot rest in this uncertainty." + +Rest! I felt more like a troubled spirit or a wandering ghost. Arthur +Lake asked what had gone wrong with me, and where I disappeared to of +an evening. + +Once more I turned out in discarded clothes to saunter about Lambeth. +It was Saturday night and the thoroughfares were crowded; but amidst +all who came and went I saw no trace of Tom. + +Worried, disheartened, I determined to carry the perplexity to my +Uncle Stillingfar. That he was true as steel, full of loving-kindness +to all the world, no matter what their errors, and that he would aid +me with his counsel--if any counsel could avail--I well knew. And thus +I found myself at his house on that Sunday afternoon. Of course he had +heard about the escape of the convicts; had seen Tom's name in the +list; but he did not know that he was suspected of having reached +London. I told him of what Leah had seen, and added the little episode +about "Miss Betsy." + +"And now, what can be done, Uncle Stillingfar? I have come to ask +you." + +His kindly blue eyes became thoughtful whilst he pondered the +question. "Indeed, Charles, I know not," he answered. "Either you must +wait in patience until he turns up some fine day--as he is sure to do +if he is in London--or you must quietly pursue your search for him, +and smuggle him away when you have found him." + +"But if I don't find him? Do you think it could be Tom that Leah saw? +Is it possible that he can be in London?" + +"Quite possible. If a homeward vessel, bound, it may be, for the port +of London, picked them up, what more likely than that he is here? +Again, who else would call himself Charles Strange, and pass himself +off for you? Though I cannot see his motive for doing it." + +"Did you ever know any man so recklessly imprudent, uncle?" + +"I have never known any man so reckless as Tom Heriot. You must do +your best to find him, Charles." + +"I don't know how. I thought you might possibly have suggested some +plan. Every day increases his danger." + +"It does: and the chances of his being recognised." + +"It seems useless to search further in Lambeth: he must have changed +his quarters. And to look about London for him will be like looking +for a needle in a bottle of hay. I suppose," I slowly added, "it would +not do to employ a detective?" + +"Not unless you wish to put him into the lion's mouth," said the +Serjeant. "Why, Charles, it would be his business to retake him. Rely +upon it, the police are now looking for him if they have the slightest +suspicion that he is here." + +At that time one or two private detectives had started in business on +their own account, having nothing to do with the police: now they have +sprung up in numbers. It was to these I alluded. + +Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. "I would not trust one of them, +Charles: it would be too dangerous an experiment. No; what you do, you +must do yourself. Once let Government get scent that he is here, and +we shall probably find the walls placarded with a reward for his +apprehension." + +"One thing I am surprised at," I said as I rose to leave: "that if he +is here, he should not have let me know it. What can he be doing for +money? An escaped convict is not likely to have much of that about +him." + +Serjeant Stillingfar shook his head. "There are points about the +affair that I cannot fathom, Charles. Talking of money--you are +well-off now, but if more than you can spare should be needed to get +Tom Heriot away, apply to me." + +"Thank you, uncle; but I don't think it will be needed. Where would +you recommend him to escape to?" + +"Find him first," was the Serjeant's answer. + +He accompanied me himself to the front door. As we stood, speaking a +last word, a middle-aged man, with keen eyes and spare frame, dressed +as a workman, came up with a brisk step. Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar met +the smile on the man's face as he glanced up in passing. + +"Arkwright!" he exclaimed. "I hardly knew you. Some sharp case in +hand, I conclude?" + +"Just so, Serjeant; but I hope to bring it to earth before the day's +over. You know----" + +Then the man glanced at me and came to a pause. + +"However, I mustn't talk about it now, so good-afternoon, Serjeant." +And thus speaking, he walked briskly onwards. + +"I wonder what he has in hand? I think he would have told me, Charles, +but for your being present," cried my uncle, looking after him. "A +keen man is Arkwright." + +"_Arkwright!_" I echoed, the name now impressing itself upon me. +"Surely not Arkwright the famous detective!" + +"Yes, it is. And he has evidently got himself up as a workman to +further some case that he has in hand. He knew you, Charles; depend +upon that; though you did not know him." + +A fear, perhaps a foolish one, fell upon me. "Uncle Stillingfar," I +breathed, "can his case be _Tom's_? Think you it is he who is being +run to earth?" + +"No, no. That is not likely," he answered, after a moment's +consideration. "Anyway, you must use every exertion to find him, for +his stay in London is full of danger." + +It will readily be believed that this incident had not added to my +peace of mind. One more visit I decided to pay to the old ground in +Lambeth, and after that--why, in truth, whether to turn east, west, +north or south, I knew no more than the dead. + +Monday was bright and frosty; Monday evening clear, cold and +starlight. The gaslights flared away in the streets and shops; the +roads were lined with wayfarers. + +Sauntering down the narrow pavement on the opposite side of the way, +in the purposeless manner that a hopeless man favours, I approached +the book-stall. A sailor was standing before it, his head bent over +the volumes. Every pulse within me went up to fever heat: for there +was that in him that reminded me of Tom Heriot. + +I crossed quietly to the stall, stood side by side with him, and took +up a handful of penny dreadfuls. Yes, it was he--Tom Heriot. + +"Tom," I cried softly. "Tom!" + +I felt the start he gave. But he did not move hand or foot; only his +eyes turned to scan me. + +"Tom," I whispered again, apparently intent upon a grand picture of a +castle in flames, and a gentleman miraculously escaping with a lady +from an attic window. "Tom, don't you know me?" + +"For goodness' sake don't speak to me, Charley!" he breathed in +answer, the words barely audible. "Go away, for the love of heaven! +I've been a prisoner here for the last three minutes. That policeman +yonder would know me, and I dare not turn. His name's Wren." + +Three doors off, a policeman was standing at the edge of the pavement, +facing the shops, as if waiting to pounce upon someone he was +expecting to pass. Even as Tom spoke, he wheeled round to the right, +and marched up the street. Tom as quickly disappeared to the left, +leaving a few words in my ear. + +"I'll wait for you at the other end, Charley; it is darker there than +here. Don't follow me immediately." + +So I remained where I was, still bending an enraptured gaze upon the +burning castle and the gallant knight and damsel escaping from it at +their peril. + +"Betsy says the account comes to seven shillings, Mr. Strange." + +The address gave me almost as great a thrill as the sight of Tom had +done. It came from the man Lee, now emerging from his shop. +Involuntarily I pulled my hat lower upon my brow. He looked up and +down the street. + +"Oh, I beg pardon--thought Mr. Strange was standing here," he said. +And then I saw my error. He had not spoken to me, but to Tom Heriot. +My gaze was still fascinated by the flaming picture. + +"Anything you'd like this evening, sir?" + +"I'll take this sheet--half a dozen of them," I said, putting down +sixpence. + +"Thank you, sir. A fine night." + +"Yes, very. Were you speaking to the sailor who stood here?" I added +carelessly "He went off in that direction, I think," pointing to the +one opposite to that Tom had taken. + +"Yes," answered the man; "'twas Mr. Strange. He had asked me to look +how much his score was for tobacco. I dare say he'll be back +presently. Captain Strange, by rights," added Lee chattily. + +"Oh! Captain of a vessel?" + +"Of his own vessel--a yacht. Not but what he has been about the world +in vessels of all sorts, he tells us; one voyage before the mast, the +next right up next to the skipper. But for them ups and downs where, +as he says, would sailors find their experience?" + +"Very true. Well, this is all I want just now. Good-evening." + +"Good-evening, sir," replied Caleb Lee. + +The end of the street to which Tom had pointed was destitute of shops; +the houses were small and poor; consequently, it was tolerably dark. +Tom was sauntering along, smoking a short pipe. + +"Is there any place at hand where we can have a few words together in +tolerable security?" I asked. + +"Come along," briefly responded Tom. "You walk on the other side of +the street, old fellow; keep me in view." + +It was good advice, and I took it. He increased his pace to a brisk +walk, and presently turned down a narrow passage, which brought him to +a sort of small, triangular green, planted with shrubs and trees. I +followed, and we sat down on one of the benches. + +"Are you quite mad, Tom?" + +"Not mad a bit," laughed Tom. "I say, Charley, did you come to that +book-stall to look after me?" + +"Ay. And it's about the tenth time I have been there." + +"How the dickens did you find me out?" + +"Chance one evening took Leah into the neighbourhood, and she happened +to see you. I had feared you might be in England." + +"You had heard of the wreck of the _Vengeance_, I suppose; and that a +few of us had escaped. Good old Leah! Did I give her a fright?" + +We were sitting side by side. Tom had put his pipe out, lest the light +should catch the sight of any passing stragglers. We spoke in +whispers. It was, perhaps, as safe a place as could be found; +nevertheless, I sat upon thorns. + +Not so Tom. By the few signs that might be gathered--his light voice, +his gay laugh, his careless manner--Tom felt as happy and secure as if +he had been attending one of her Majesty's levees, in the full glory +of scarlet coat and flashing sword-blade. + +"Do you know, Tom, you have half killed me with terror and +apprehension? How could you be so reckless as to come back to London?" + +"Because the old ship brought me," lightly returned Tom. + +"I suppose a vessel picked you up--and the comrades who escaped with +you?" + +"It picked two of us up. The other three died." + +"What, in the boat?" + +He nodded. "In the open boat at sea." + +"How did you manage to escape? I thought convicts were too well looked +after." + +"So they are, under ordinary circumstances. Shipwrecks form the +exception. I'll give you the history, Charley." + +"Make it brief, then. I am upon thorns." + +Tom laughed, and began: + +"We were started on that blessed voyage, a cargo of men in irons, and +for some time made a fair passage, and thought we must be nearing the +other side. Such a crew, that cargo, Charles! Such an awful lot! +Villainous wretches, who wore their guilt on their faces, and suffered +their deserts; half demons, most of them. A few amongst them were no +doubt like me, innocent enough; wrongfully accused and condemned----" + +"But go on with the narrative, Tom." + +"I swear I was innocent," he cried, with emotion, heedless of my +interruption. "I was wickedly careless, I admit that, but the guilt +was another's, not mine. When I put those bills into circulation, +Charles, I knew no more they were forged than you did. Don't you +believe me?" + +"I do believe you. I have believed you throughout." + +"And if the trial had not been hurried on I think it could have been +proved. It was hurried on, Charles, and when it was on it was hurried +over. I am suffering unjustly." + +"Yes, Tom. But won't you go on with your story?" + +"Where was I? Oh, about the voyage and the shipwreck. After getting +out of the south-east trades, we had a fortnight's light winds and +calms, and then got into a steady westerly wind, before which we ran +quietly for some days. One dark night, it was the fifteenth of +November, and thick, drizzling weather, the wind about north-west, we +had turned in and were in our first sleep, when a tremendous uproar +arose on deck; the watch shouting and tramping, the officers' orders +and the boatswain's mate's shrill piping rising above the din. One +might have thought Old Nick had leaped on board and was giving chase. +Next came distinctly that fearful cry, 'All hands save ship!' Sails +were being clewed up, yards were being swung round. Before we could +realize what it all meant, the ship had run ashore; and there she +stuck, bumping as if she would knock her bottom out." + +"Get on, Tom," I whispered, for he had paused, and seemed to be +spinning a long yarn instead of a short one. + +"Fortunately, the ship soon made a sort of cradle for herself in the +sand, and lay on her starboard bilge. To attempt to get her off was +hopeless. So they got us all out of the ship and on shore, and put us +under tents made of the sails. The skipper made out, or thought he +made out, the island to be that of Tristan d'Acunha: whether it was or +not I can't say positively. At first we thought it was uninhabited, +but it turned out to have a few natives on it, sixty or eighty in +all. In the course of a few days every movable thing had been landed. +All the boats were intact, and were moored in a sort of creek, or +small natural harbour, their gear, sails and oars in them." + +"Hush!" I breathed, "or you are lost!" + +A policeman's bull's-eye was suddenly turned upon the grass. By the +man's size, I knew him for Tom's friend, Wren. We sat motionless. The +light just escaped us, and the man passed on. But we had been in +danger. + +"If you would only be quicker, Tom. I don't want to know about boats +and their gear." + +He laughed. "How impatient you are, Charles! Well, to get on ahead. A +cargo of convicts cannot be kept as securely under such circumstances +as had befallen us as they could be in a ship's hold, and the +surveillance exercised was surprisingly lax. Two or three of the +prisoners were meditating an escape, and thought they saw their way to +effecting it by means of one of the boats. I found this out, and +joined the party. But there were almost insurmountable difficulties in +the way. It was absolutely necessary that we should put on ordinary +clothes--for what vessel, picking us up, but would have delivered us +up at the first port it touched at, had we been in convict dress? We +marked the purser's slop-chest, which was under a tent, and well +filled, and----" + +"Do get on, Tom!" + +"Here goes, then! One calm, but dark night, when other people were +sleeping, we stole down to the creek, five of us, rigged ourselves out +in the purser's toggery, leaving the Government uniforms in exchange, +unmoored one of the cutters, and got quietly away. We had secreted +some bread and salt meat; water there had been already on board. The +wind was off the land, and we let the boat drift before it a bit +before attempting to make sail. By daylight we were far enough from +the island; no chance of their seeing us--a speck on the waters. The +wind, hitherto south, had backed to the westward. We shaped a course +by the sun to the eastward, and sailed along at the rate of five or +six knots. My comrades were not as rough as they might have been; +rather decent fellows for convicts. Two of them were from Essex; had +been sentenced for poaching only. Now began our lookout: constantly +straining our eyes along the horizon for a sail, but especially astern +for an outward-bounder, but only saw one or two in the distance that +did not see us. What I underwent in that boat as day after day passed, +and no sail appeared, I won't enter upon now, old fellow. The +provisions were exhausted, and so was the water. One by one three of +my companions went crazy and died. The survivor and I had consigned +the last of them to the deep on the twelfth day, and then I thought my +turn had come; but Markham was worse than I was. How many hours went +on, I knew not. I lay at the bottom of the boat, exhausted and half +unconscious, when suddenly I heard voices. I imagined it to be a +dream. But in a few minutes a boat was alongside the cutter, and two +of its crew had stepped over and were raising me up. They spoke to me, +but I was too weak to understand or answer; in fact, I was delirious. +I and Markham were taken on board and put to bed. After some days, +passed in a sort of dreamy, happy delirium, well cared for and +attended to, I woke up to the realities of life. Markham was dead: he +had never revived, and died of exposure and weakness some hours after +the rescue." + +"What vessel had picked you up?" + +"It was the _Discovery_, a whaler belonging to Whitby, and homeward +bound. The captain, Van Hoppe, was Dutch by birth, but had been reared +in England and had always sailed in English ships. A good and kind +fellow, if ever there was one. Of course, I had to make my tale good +and suppress the truth. The passenger-ship in which I was sailing to +Australia to seek my fortune had foundered in mid-ocean, and those +who escaped with me had died of their sufferings. That was true so +far. Captain Van Hoppe took up my misfortunes warmly. Had he been my +own brother--had he been _you_, Charley--he could not have treated me +better or cared for me more. The vessel had a prosperous run home. She +was bound for the port of London; and when I put my hand into Van +Hoppe's at parting, and tried to thank him for his goodness, he left a +twenty-pound note in it. 'You'll need it, Mr. Strange,' he said; 'you +can repay me when your fortune's made and you are rich.'" + +"_Strange!_" I cried. + +Tom laughed. + +"I called myself 'Strange' on the whaler. Don't know that it was wise +of me. One day when I was getting better and lay deep in +thought--which just then chanced to be of you, Charley--the mate +suddenly asked me what my name was. 'Strange,' I answered, on the spur +of the moment. That's how it was. And that's the brief history of my +escape." + +"You have had money, then, for your wants since you landed," I +remarked. + +"I have had the twenty pounds. It's coming to an end now." + +"You ought not to have come to London. You should have got the captain +to put you ashore somewhere, and then made your escape from England." + +"All very fine to talk, Charley! I had not a sixpence in my pocket, or +any idea that he was going to help me. I could only come on as far as +the vessel would bring me." + +"And suppose he had not given you money--what then?" + +"Then I must have contrived to let you know that I was home again, and +borrowed from you," he lightly replied. + +"Well, your being here is frightfully dangerous." + +"Not a bit of it. As long as the police don't suspect I am in England, +they won't look after me. It's true that a few of them might know me, +but I do not think they would in this guise and with my altered +face." + +"You were afraid of one to-night." + +"Well, _he_ is especially one who might know me; and he stood there so +long that I began to think he might be watching me. Anyway, I've been +on shore these three weeks, and nothing has come of it yet." + +"What about that young lady named Betsy? Miss Betsy Lee." + +Tom threw himself back in a fit of laughter. + +"I hear the old fellow went down to Essex Street one night to +ascertain whether I lived there! The girl asked me one day where I +lived, and I rapped out Essex Street." + +"But, Tom, what have you to do with the girl?" + +"Nothing; nothing. On my honour. I have often been in the shop, +sometimes of an evening. The father has invited me to some grog in the +parlour behind it, and I have sat there for an hour chatting with him +and the girl. That's all. She is a well-behaved, modest little girl; +none better." + +"Well, Tom, with one imprudence and another, you stand a fair +chance----" + +"There, there! Don't preach, Charley. What you call imprudence, I call +fun." + +"What do you think of doing? To remain on here for ever in this +disguise?" + +"Couldn't, I expect, if I wanted to. I must soon see about getting +away." + +"You must get away at once." + +"I am not going yet, Charley; take my word for that; and I am as safe +in London, I reckon, as I should be elsewhere. Don't say but I may +have to clear out of this particular locality. If that burly policeman +is going to make a permanent beat of it about here, he might drop upon +me some fine evening." + +"And you must exchange your sailor's disguise, as you call it, for a +better one." + +"Perhaps so. That rough old coat you have on, Charley, might not come +amiss to me." + +"You can have it. Why do you fear that policeman should know you, +more than any other?" + +"He was present at the trial last August. Was staring me in the face +most of the day. His name's Wren." + +I sighed. + +"Well, Tom, it is getting late; we have sat here as long as is +consistent with safety," I said, rising. + +He made me sit down again. + +"The later the safer, perhaps, Charley. When shall we meet again?" + +"Ay; when, and where?" + +"Come to-morrow evening, to this same spot. It is as good a one as any +I know of. I shall remain indoors all day tomorrow. Of course one does +not care to run needlessly into danger. Shall you find your way to +it?" + +"Yes, and will be here; but I shall go now. Do be cautious, Tom. Do +you want any money? I have brought some with me." + +"Many thanks, old fellow; I've enough to go on with for a day or two. +How is Blanche? Did she nearly die of the disgrace?" + +"She did not know of it. Does not know it yet." + +"No!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, how can it have been kept +from her? She does not live in a wood." + +"Level has managed it, somehow. She was abroad during the trial, you +know. They have chiefly lived there since, Blanche seeing no English +newspapers; and, of course, her acquaintances do not gratuitously +speak to her about it. But I don't think it can be kept from her much +longer." + +"But where does she think I am--all this time?" + +"She thinks you are in India with the regiment." + +"I suppose _he_ was in a fine way about it!" + +"Level? Yes--naturally; and is still. He would have saved you, Tom, at +any cost." + +"As you would, and one or two more good friends; but, you see, I did +not know what was coming upon me in time to ask them. It fell upon my +head like a thunderbolt. Level is not a bad fellow at bottom." + +"He is a downright good one--at least, that's my opinion of him." + +We stood hand locked in hand at parting. "Where are you staying?" I +whispered. + +"Not far off. I've a lodging in the neighbourhood--one room." + +"Fare you well, then, until to-morrow evening." + +"Au revoir, Charley." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +TOM HERIOT. + + +I found my way straight enough the next night to the little green with +its trees and shrubs. Tom was there, and was humming one of our +boyhood's songs taught us by Leah: + + "Young Henry was as brave a youth + As ever graced a martial story; + And Jane was fair as lovely truth: + She sighed for love, and he for glory. + + "To her his faith he meant to plight, + And told her many a gallant story: + But war, their honest joys to blight, + Called him away from love to glory. + + "Young Henry met the foe with pride; + Jane followed--fought--ah! hapless story! + In man's attire, by Henry's side, + She died for love, and he for glory." + +He was still dressed as a sailor, but the pilot-coat was buttoned up +high and tight about his throat, and the round glazed hat was worn +upon the front of his head instead of the back of it. + +"I thought you meant to change these things, Tom," I said as we sat +down. + +"All in good time," he answered; "don't quite know yet what costume to +adopt. Could one become a negro-melody man, think you, Charley--or a +Red Indian juggler with balls and sword-swallowing?" + +How light he seemed! how supremely indifferent! Was it real or only +assumed? Then he turned suddenly upon me: + +"I say, what are you in black for, Charley? For my sins?" + +"For Mr. Brightman." + +"Mr. Brightman!" he repeated, his tone changing to one of concern. "Is +he dead?" + +"He died the last week in February. Some weeks ago now. Died quite +suddenly." + +"Well, well, well!" softly breathed Tom Heriot. "I am very sorry. I +did not know it. But how am I likely to know anything of what the past +months have brought forth?" + +It would serve no purpose to relate the interview of that night in +detail. We spent it partly in quarrelling. That is, in differences of +opinion. It was impossible to convince Tom of his danger. I told him +about the Sunday incident, when Detective Arkwright passed the door of +Serjeant Stillingfar, and my momentary fear that he might be looking +after Tom. He only laughed. "Good old Uncle Stillingfar!" cried he; +"give my love to him." And all his conversation was carried on in the +same light strain. + +"But you must leave Lambeth," I urged. "You said you would do so." + +"I said I might. I will, if I see just cause for doing so. Plenty of +time yet. I am not _sure_, you know, Charles, that Wren would know +me." + +"The very fact of your having called yourself 'Strange' ought to take +you away from here." + +"Well, I suppose that was a bit of a mistake," he acknowledged. "But +look here, brother mine, your own fears mislead you. Until it is known +that I have made my way home no one will be likely to look after me. +Believing me to be at the antipodes, they won't search London for me." + +"They may suspect that you are in London, if they don't actually know +it." + +"Not they. To begin with, it must be a matter of absolute uncertainty +whether we got picked up at all, after escaping from the island; but +the natural conclusion will be that, if we were, it was by a vessel +bound for the colonies: homeward-bound ships do not take that course. +Everyone at all acquainted with navigation knows that. I assure you, +our being found by the whaler was the merest chance in the world. Be +at ease, Charley. I can take care of myself, and I will leave Lambeth +if necessary. One of these fine mornings you may get a note from me, +telling you I have emigrated to the Isle of Dogs, or some such +enticing quarter, and have become 'Mr. Smith.' Meanwhile, we can meet +here occasionally." + +"I don't like this place, Tom. It must inevitably be attended with +more or less danger. Had I not better come to your lodgings?" + +"No," he replied, after a moment's consideration. "I am quite sure +that we are safe here, and there it's hot and stifling--a dozen +families living in the same house. And I shall not tell you where the +lodgings are, Charles: you might be swooping down upon me to carry me +away as Mephistopheles carried away Dr. Faustus." + +After supplying him with money, with a last handshake, whispering a +last injunction to be cautious, I left the triangle, and left him +within it. The next moment found me face to face with the burly frame +and wary glance of Mr. Policemen Wren. He was standing still in the +starlight. I walked past him with as much unconcern as I could +muster. He turned to look after me for a time, and then continued his +beat. + +It gave me a scare. What would be the result if Tom met him +unexpectedly as I had done? I would have given half I was worth to +hover about and ascertain. But I had to go on my way. + + * * * * * + +"Can you see Lord Level, sir?" + +It was the following Saturday afternoon, and I was just starting for +Hastings. The week had passed in anxious labour. Business cares for +me, more work than I knew how to get through, for Lennard was away +ill, and constant mental torment about Tom. I took out my watch before +answering Watts. + +"Yes, I have five minutes to spare. If that will be enough for his +lordship," I added, laughing, as we shook hands: for he had followed +Watts into the room. + +"You are off somewhere, Charles?" + +"Yes, to Hastings. I shall be back again to-morrow night. Can I do +anything for you?" + +"Nothing," replied Lord Level. "I came up from Marshdale this morning, +and thought I would come round this afternoon to ask whether you have +any news." + +When Lord Level went to Marshdale on the visit that bore so suspicious +an aspect to his wife, he had remained there only one night, returning +to London the following day. This week he had been down again, and +stayed rather longer--two days, in fact. Blanche, as I chanced to +know, was rebelling over it. Secretly rebelling, for she had not +brought herself to accuse him openly. + +"News?" I repeated. + +"Of Tom Heriot." + +Should I tell Lord Level? Perhaps there was no help for it. When he +had asked me before I had known nothing positively; now I knew only +too much. + +"Why I should have it, I know not; but a conviction lies upon me that +he has found his way back to London," he continued. "Charles, you look +conscious. Do you know anything?" + +"You are right. He is here, and I have seen him." + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lord Level, throwing himself back in his +chair. "Has he really been mad enough to come back to London?" + +Drawing my own chair nearer to him, I bent forward, and in low tones +gave him briefly the history. I had seen Tom on the Monday and Tuesday +nights, as already related to the reader. On the Thursday night I was +again at the trysting-place, but Tom did not meet me. The previous +night, Friday, I had gone again, and again Tom did not appear. + +"Is he taken, think you?" cried Lord Level. + +"I don't know: and you see I dare not make any inquiries. But I think +not. Had he been captured, it would be in the papers." + +"I am not so sure of that. What an awful thing! What suspense for us +all! Can _nothing_ be done?" + +"Nothing," I answered, rising, for my time was up. "We can only wait, +and watch, and be silent." + +"If it were not for the disgrace reflected upon us, and raking it up +again to people's minds, I would say let him be re-taken! It would +serve him right for his foolhardiness." + +"How is Blanche?" + +"Cross and snappish; unaccountably so: and showing her temper to me +rather unbearably." + +I laughed--willing to treat the matter lightly. "She does not care +that you should go travelling without her, I take it." + +Lord Level, who was passing out before me, turned and gazed into my +face. + +"Yes," said he emphatically. "But a man may have matters to take up +his attention, and his movements also, that he may deem it inexpedient +to talk of to his wife." + +He spoke with a touch of haughtiness. "Very true," I murmured, as we +shook hands and went out together, he walking away towards Gloucester +Place, I jumping into the cab waiting to take me to the station. + +Mrs. Brightman was better; I knew that; and showing herself more +self-controlled. But there was no certainty that the improvement would +be lasting. In truth, the certainty lay rather the other way. Her +mother's home was no home for Annabel; and I had formed the resolution +to ask her to come to mine. + +The sun had set when I reached Hastings, and Miss Brightman's house. +Miss Brightman, who seemed to grow less strong day by day, which I was +grieved to hear, was in her room lying down. Annabel sat at the front +drawing-room window in the twilight. She started up at my entrance, +full of surprise and apprehension. + +"Oh, Charles! Has anything happened? Is mamma worse?" + +"No, indeed; your mamma is very much better," said I cheerfully. "I +have taken a run down for the pleasure of seeing you, Annabel." + +She still looked uneasy. I remembered the dreadful tidings I had +brought the last time I came to Hastings. No doubt she was thinking +of it, too, poor girl. + +"Take a seat, Charles," she said. "Aunt Lucy will soon be down." + +I drew a chair opposite to her, and talked for a little time on +indifferent topics. The twilight shades grew deeper, passers-by more +indistinct, the sea less bright and shimmering. Silence stole over +us--a sweet silence all too conscious, all too fleeting. Annabel +suddenly rose, stood at the window, and made some slight remark about +a little boat that was nearing the pier. + +"Annabel," I whispered, as I rose and stood by her, "you do not know +what I have really come down for." + +"No," she answered, with hesitation. + +"When I last saw you at your own home, you may remember that you were +in very great trouble. I asked you to share it with me, but you would +not do so." + +She began to tremble, and became agitated, and I passed my arm round +her waist. + +"My darling, I now know all." + +Her heart beat violently as I held her. Her hand shook nervously in +mine. + +"You cannot know all!" she cried piteously. + +"I know all; more than you do. Mrs. Brightman was worse after you +left, and Hatch sent for me. She and Mr. Close have told me the whole +truth." + +Annabel would have shrunk away, in the full tide of shame that swept +over her, and a low moan broke from her lips. + +"Nay, my dear, instead of shrinking from me, you must come nearer to +me--for ever. My home must be yours now." + +She did not break away from me, and stood pale and trembling, her +hands clasped, her emotion strong. + +"It cannot, must not be, Charles." + +"Hush, my love. It _can_ be--and shall be." + +"Charles," she said, her very lips trembling, "weigh well what you are +saying. Do not suffer the--affection--I must speak fully--the implied +engagement that was between us, ere this unhappiness came to my +knowledge and yours--do not suffer it to bind you now. It is a fearful +disgrace to attach to my poor mother, and it is reflected upon me." + +"Were your father living, Annabel, should you say the disgrace was +also reflected upon _him_?" + +"Oh no, no. I could not do so. My good father! honourable and +honoured. Never upon him." + +I laughed a little at her want of logic. + +"Annabel, my dear, you have yourself answered the question. As I hold +you to my heart now, so will I, in as short a time as may be, hold you +in my home and at my hearth. Let what will betide, you shall have one +true friend to shelter and protect you with his care and love for ever +and for ever." + +Her tears were falling. + +"Oh please, please, Charles! I am sure it ought not to be. Aunt Lucy +would tell you so." + +Aunt Lucy came in at that moment, and proved to be on my side. She +would be going to Madeira at the close of the summer, and the +difficulty as to what was to be done then with Annabel had begun to +trouble her greatly. + +"I cannot take her with me, you see, Charles," she said. "In her +mother's precarious state, the child must not absent herself from +England. Still less can I leave her to her mother's care. Therefore I +think your proposal exactly meets the dilemma. I suppose matters have +been virtually settled between you for some little time now." + +"Oh, Aunt Lucy!" remonstrated Annabel, blushing furiously. + +"Well, my dear, and I say it is all for the best. If you can suggest a +better plan I am willing to hear it." + +Annabel sat silent, her head drooping. + +"I may tell you this much, child: your father looked forward to it and +approved it. Not that he would have allowed the marriage to take place +just yet had he lived; I am sure of that; but he is not living, and +circumstances alter cases." + +"I am sure he liked me, Miss Brightman," I ventured to put in, as +modestly as I could; "and I believe he would have consented to our +marriage." + +"Yes, he liked you very much; and so do I," she added, laughing. "I +wish I could say as much for Mrs. Brightman. The opposition, I fancy, +will come from her." + +"You think she will oppose it?" I said--and, indeed, the doubt had +lain in my own mind. + +"I am afraid so. Of course there will be nothing for it but patience. +Annabel cannot marry without her consent." + +How a word will turn the scales of our hopes and fears! That Mrs. +Brightman would oppose and wither our bright prospects came to me in +that moment with the certainty of conviction. + +"Come what come may, we will be true to each other," I whispered to +Annabel the next afternoon. We were standing at the end of the pier, +looking out upon the calm sea, flashing in the sunshine, and I +imprisoned her hand momentarily in mine. "If we have to exercise all +the patience your Aunt Lucy spoke of, we will still hope on, and put +our trust in Heaven." + +"Even so, Charles." The evening was yet early when I reached London, +and I walked home from the station. St. Mary's was striking half-past +seven as I passed it. At the self-same moment, an arm was inserted +into mine. I turned quickly, wondering if anyone had designs upon my +small hand-bag. + +"All right, Charley! I'm not a burglar." + +It was only Lake. "Why, Arthur! I thought you had gone to Oxford until +Monday!" + +"Got news last night that the fellow could not have me: had to go down +somewhere or other," he answered, as we walked along arm-in-arm. "I +say, I had a bit of a scare just now." + +"In what way?" + +"I thought I saw Tom pass. Tom Heriot," he added in a whisper. + +"Oh, but that's impossible, you know, Lake," I said, though I felt my +pulses quicken. "All your fancy." + +"It was just under that gas-lamp at the corner of Wellington Street," +Lake went on. "He was sauntering along as if he had nothing to do, +muffled in a coat that looked a mile too big for him, and a red +comforter. He lifted his face in passing, and stopped suddenly, as if +he had recognised me, and were going to speak; then seemed to think +better of it, turned on his heel and walked back the way he had been +coming. Charley, if it was not Tom Heriot, I never saw such a likeness +as that man bore to him." + +My lips felt glued. "It could not have been Tom Heriot, Lake. You know +Tom is at the antipodes. We will not talk of him, please. Are you +coming home with me?" + +"Yes. I was going on to Barlow's Chambers, but I'll come with you +instead." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +AN EVENING VISITOR. + + +The spring flowers were showing themselves, and the may was budding in +the hedges. I thought how charming it all looked, as I turned, this +Monday afternoon, into Mrs. Brightman's grounds, where laburnums +drooped their graceful blossoms, and lilacs filled the air with their +perfume; how significantly it all spoke to the heart of renewed life +after the gloom of winter, the death and decay of nature. + +Mrs. Brightman was herself, enjoying the spring-tide. She sat, robed +in crape, on a bench amidst the trees, on which the sun was shining. +What a refined, proud, handsome face was hers! but pale and somewhat +haggard now. No other trace of her recent illness was apparent, except +a nervous trembling of the hands. + +"This is a surprise," she said, holding out one of those hands to me +quite cordially. "I thought you had been too busy of late to visit me +in the day-time." + +"Generally I am very busy, but I made time to come to-day. I have +something of importance to say to you, Mrs. Brightman. Will you hear +me?" + +She paused to look at me--a searching, doubtful look. Did she fear +that I was about to speak to her of her _failing_? The idea occurred +to me. + +"Certainly," she coldly replied. "Business must, of course, be +attended to. Would you prefer to go indoors or to sit out here?" + +"I would rather remain here. I am not often favoured with such a +combination of velvet lawn and sunshine and sweet scents." + +She made room for me beside her. And, with as little circumlocution +as possible, I brought out what I wanted--Annabel. When the heart is +truly engaged, a man at these moments can only be bashful, especially +when he sees it will be an uphill fight; but if the heart has nothing +to do with the matter, he can be as cool and suave as though he were +merely telling an everyday story. + +Mrs. Brightman, hearing me to the end, rose haughtily. + +"Surely you do not know what you are saying!" she exclaimed. "Or is it +that I fail to understand you? You cannot be asking for the hand of my +daughter?" + +"Indeed--pardon me--I am. Mrs. Brightman, we----" + +"Pardon _me_," she interrupted, "but I must tell you that it is +utterly preposterous. Say no more, Mr. Strange; not another word. My +daughter cannot marry a professional man. _I_ did so, you may reply: +yes, and have forfeited my proper place in the world ever since." + +"Mr. Brightman would have given Annabel to me." + +"Possibly so, though I think not. As Mr. Brightman is no longer here, +we may let that supposition alone. And you must allow me to say this +much, sir--that it is scarcely seemly to come to me on any such +subject so soon after his death." + +"But----" I stopped in embarrassment, unable to give my reason for +speaking so soon. How could I tell Mrs. Brightman that it was to +afford Annabel a home and a protector: that this, her mother's home, +was not fitting for a refined and sensitive girl? + +But I pressed the suit. I told her I had Annabel's consent, and that I +had recently been with her at Hastings. I should like to have added +that I had Miss Brightman's, only that it might have done more harm +than good. I spoke very slightly of Miss Brightman's projected +departure from England, when her house would be shut up and Annabel +must leave Hastings. And I added that I wanted to make a home for her +by that time. + +I am sure she caught my implied meaning, for she grew agitated and her +hands shook as they lay on her crape dress. Her diamond rings, which +she had not discarded, flashed in the sunlight. But she rallied her +strength. All her pride rose up in rebellion. + +"My daughter has her own home, sir; her home with me--what do you +mean? During my illness, I have allowed her to remain with her aunt, +but she will shortly return to me." + +And when I would have urged further, and pleaded as for something +dearer than life, she peremptorily stopped me. + +"I will hear no more, Mr. Strange. My daughter is descended on my side +from the nobles of the land--you must forgive me for thus alluding to +it--and it is impossible that I can forget that, or allow her to do +so. Never, with my consent, will she marry out of that grade: a +professional man is, in rank, beneath her. This is my decision, and +it is unalterable. The subject is at an end, and I beg of you never +again to enter upon it." + +There was no chance of my pursuing it then, at any rate. Hatch came +from the house, a folded cloak on her arm, and approached her +mistress. + +"The carriage is at the gate, ma'am." + +Mrs. Brightman rose at once: she was going for a drive. After what had +just passed, I held out my arm to her with some hesitation. She put +the tips of her fingers within it, with a stiff "Thank you," and we +walked to the gate in silence. I handed her into the open carriage; +Hatch disposed the cloak upon her knees, assisted by the footman. With +a cold bow, Mrs. Brightman, who had already as coldly shaken hands +with me, drove away. + +Hatch, always ready for a gossip, stood within the little iron gate +while she spoke to me. + +"We be going away for a bit, sir," she began. "Did you know it?" + +"No. Mrs. Brightman has not mentioned the matter to me." + +"Well, we be, then," continued Hatch; "missis and me and Perry. Mr. +Close have got her to consent at last. I don't say that she was well +enough to go before; Close thought so, but I didn't. He wants her +gone, you see, Mr. Charles, to get that fancy out of her head about +master." + +"But does she still think she sees him?" + +"Not for the past few days," replied Hatch. "She has changed her +bedroom, and taken to the best spare one; and she has been better in +herself. Oh, she'll be all right now for a bit, if only----" + +"If only what?" I asked, for Hatch had paused. + +"Well, you know, sir. If only she can control herself. I'm certain she +is trying to," added Hatch. "There ain't one of us would be so glad to +find it got rid of for good and all as she'd be. She's put about +frightfully yet at Miss Annabel's knowing of it." + +"And where is it that you are going to?" + +"Missis talked of Cheltenham; it was early, she thought, for the +seaside; but this morning she got a Cheltenham newspaper up, and saw +that amid the company staying there were Captain and Lady Grace +Chantrey. 'I'm not going where my brother and that wife of his are,' +she says to me in a temper--for, as I dare say you've heard, Mr. +Charles, they don't agree. And now she talks of Brighton. Whatever +place she fixes on, Perry is to be sent on first to take lodgings." + +"Well, Hatch," I said, "the change from home will do your mistress +good. She is much better. I trust the improvement will be permanent." + +"Ah, if she would but take care! It all lies in that, sir," concluded +Hatch, as I turned away from the gate, and she went up the garden. + + * * * * * + +We must go back for a moment to the previous evening. Leaving behind +us the church of St. Clement Danes and its lighted windows, Lake and +I turned into Essex Street, arm-in-arm, went down it and reached my +door. I opened it with my latch-key. The hall-lamp was not lighted, +and I wondered at Watts's neglect. + +"Go on up to my room," I said to Lake. "I'll follow you in a moment." + +He bounded up the stairs, and the next moment Leah came up from the +kitchen with a lighted candle, her face white and terrified. + +"It is only myself, Leah. Why is the lamp not alight?" + +"Heaven be good to us, sir!" she cried. "I thought I heard somebody go +upstairs." + +"Mr. Lake has gone up." + +She dropped her candlestick upon the slab, and backed against the +wall, looking more white and terrified than ever. I thought she was +about to faint. + +"Mr. Charles! I feel as if I could die! I ought to have bolted the +front door." + +"But what for?" I cried, intensely surprised. "What on earth is the +matter, Leah?" + +"He is up there, sir! Up in your front sitting-room. I put out the +hall-lamp, thinking the house would be best in darkness." + +"Who is up there?" For in the moment's bewilderment I did not glance +at the truth. + +"Mr. Tom, sir. Captain Heriot." + +"_Mr. Tom!_ Up there?" + +"Not many minutes ago, soon after Watts had gone out to church--for he +was late to-night--there came a ring at the doorbell," said Leah. "I +came up to answer it, thinking nothing. A rough-looking man stood, in +a wide-awake hat, close against the door there. 'Is Mr. Strange at +home?' said he, and walked right in. I knew his voice, and I knew him, +and I cried out. 'Don't be stupid, Leah; it's only me,' says he. 'Is +Mr. Charles upstairs? Nobody with him, I hope.' 'There's nobody to +come and put his head in the lion's mouth, as may be said, there at +all, sir,' said I; and up he went, like a lamplighter. I put the +hall-lamp out. I was terrified out of my senses, and told him you were +at Hastings, but I expected you in soon. And Mr. Charles," wound up +Leah, "I think he must have gone clean daft." + +"Light the lamp again," I replied. "It always _is_ alight, you know. +If the house is in darkness, you might have a policeman calling to +know what was the matter." + +Tom was in a fit of laughter when I got upstairs. He had taken off his +rough overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, and stood in a worn--very much +worn--suit of brown velveteen breeches and gaiters. Lake stared at him +over the table, a comical expression on his face. + +"Suppose we shake hands, to begin with," said Lake. And they clasped +hands heartily across the table. + +"Did you know me just now, in the Strand, Lake?" asked Tom Heriot. + +"I did," replied Lake, and his tone proved that he meant it. "I said +to Charley, here, that I had just seen a fellow very like Tom Heriot; +but I knew who it was, fast enough." + +"You wouldn't have known me, though, if I hadn't lifted my face to the +lamp-light. I forget myself at moments, you see," added Tom, after a +pause. "Meeting you unexpectedly, I was about to speak as in the old +days, and recollected myself only just in time. I say"--turning +himself about in his velveteens--"should you take me for a +gamekeeper?" + +"No, I should not: you don't look the thing at all," I put in testily, +for I was frightfully vexed with him altogether. "I thought you must +have been taken up by your especial friend, Wren. Twice have I been to +the trysting-place as agreed, but you did not appear." + +"No; but I think he nearly had me," replied Tom. + +"How was that?" + +"I'll tell you," he answered, as we all three took chairs round the +fire, and I stirred it into a blaze. "On the Wednesday I did not go +out at all; I told you I should not. On the Thursday, after dusk, I +went out to meet you, Charley. It was early, and I strolled in for a +smoke with Lee and a chat with Miss Betsy. The old man began at once: +'Captain Strange, Policeman Wren has been here, asking questions about +you.' It seems old Wren is well known in the neighbourhood----" + +"Captain Strange?" cried Lake. "Who is Captain Strange?" + +"I am--down there," laughed Tom. "Don't interrupt, please. 'What +questions?' I said to Lee. 'Oh, what your name was, and where you came +from, and if I had known you long, and what your ship was called,' +answered Lee. 'And you told him?' I asked. 'Well, I should have told +him, but for Betsy,' he said. 'Betsy spoke up, saying you were a +sailor-gentleman that came in to buy tobacco and newspapers; and that +was all he got out of us, not your name, captain, or anything. As +Betsy said to me afterwards, it was not our place to answer questions +about Captain Strange: if the policeman wanted to know anything, let +him apply to the captain himself. Which I thought good sense,' +concluded Lee. As it was." + +"Well, Tom?" + +"Well, I thought it about time to go straight home again," said Tom; +"and that's why I did not meet you, Charley. And the next day, Friday, +I cleared out of my diggings in that quarter of the globe, rigged +myself out afresh, and found other lodgings. I am nearer to you now, +Charley: vegetating in the wilds over Blackfriars Bridge." + +"How could you be so imprudent as to come here to-night? or to be seen +in so conspicuous a spot as the Strand?" + +"The fit took me to pay you a visit, old fellow. As to the Strand--it +is a fine thoroughfare, you know, and I had not set eyes on it since +last summer. I walked up and down a bit, listening to the church +bells, and looking about me." + +"You turn everything into ridicule, Tom." + +"Better that, Charley, than into sighing and groaning." + +"How did you know that Leah would open the door to you? Watts might +have done so." + +"I had it all cut-and-dried. 'Is Mrs. Brown at home?' I should have +said, in a voice Watts would never have known. 'Mrs. Brown don't live +here,' old Watts would have answered; upon which I should have +politely begged his pardon and walked off." + +"All very fine, Tom, and you may think yourself amazingly clever; but +as sure as you are living, you will run these risks once too often." + +"Not I. Didn't I give old Leah a scare! You should have heard her +shriek." + +"Suppose it had been some enemy--some stickler for law and +justice--that I had brought home with me to-night, instead of Lake?" + +"But it wasn't," laughed Tom. "It was Lake himself. And I guess he is +as safe as you are." + +"Be sure of that," added Lake. "But what do you think of doing, +Heriot? You cannot hide away for ever in the wilds of Blackfriars. _I_ +would not answer for your safety there for a day." + +"Goodness knows!" said Tom. "Perhaps Charley could put me up here--in +one of his top bedrooms?" + +Whether he spoke in jest or earnest, I knew not. He might remember +that I was running a risk in concealing him even for an hour or two. +Were it discovered, the law might make me answer for it. + +"I should like something to eat, Charley." + +Leaving him with Lake, I summoned Leah, and bade her bring up quickly +what she had. She speedily appeared with the tray. + +"Good old Leah!" said Tom to her. "That ham looks tempting." + +"Mr. Tom, if you go on like this, loitering in the open streets and +calling at houses, trouble will overtake you," returned Leah, in much +the same tone she had used to reprimand him when a child. "I wonder +what your dear, good mother would say to it if she saw you throwing +yourself into peril. Do you remember, sir, how often she would beg of +you to be good?" + +"My mother!" repeated Tom, who was in one of his lightest moods. "Why, +you never saw her. She was dead and buried and gone to heaven before +you knew anything of us." + +"Ah well, Master Tom, you know I mean Mrs. Heriot--afterwards Mrs. +Strange. It wouldn't be you, sir, if you didn't turn everything into a +jest. She was a good mother to you all." + +"That she was, Leah. Excused our lessons for the asking, and fed us on +jam." + +He was taking his supper rapidly the while; for, of course, he had to +be away before church was over and Watts was home again. The man might +have been true and faithful; little doubt of it; but it would have +added one more item to the danger. + +Lake went out and brought a cab; and Tom, his wide-awake low on his +brow, his rough coat on, and his red comforter round about his throat, +vaulted into it, to be conveyed over Blackfriars Bridge to any point +that he might choose to indicate. + +"It is an amazing hazard his going about like this," cried Lake, as we +sat down together in front of the fire. "He must be got out of England +as quickly as possible." + +"But he won't go." + +"Then, mark my words, Charles, bad will come of it." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +RESTITUTION. + + +Time had gone on--weeks and weeks--though there is little to tell of +passing events. Things generally remained pretty much as they had +been. The Levels were abroad again. Mrs. Brightman on the whole was +better, but had occasional relapses; Annabel spent most of her time at +Hastings; and Tom Heriot had not yet been taken. + +Tom was now at an obscure fishing village on the coast of Scotland, +passing himself off as a fisherman, owning a small boat and pretending +to fish. This did not allay our anxiety, which was almost as great as +ever. Still, it was something to have him away from London. Out of +Great Britain he refused to move. + +Does the reader remember George Coney's money, that so strangely +disappeared the night of Mr. Brightman's death? From that hour to this +nothing has been seen or heard of it: but the time for it was now at +hand. And what I am about to relate may appear a very common-place +ending to a mystery--though, indeed, it was not yet quite the ending. +In my capacity of story-teller I could have invented a hundred +romantic incidents, and worked them and the reader up to a high point +of interest; but I can only record the incident as it happened, and +its termination was a very matter-of-fact one. + +I was sitting one evening in the front room: a sitting-room now--I +think this has been said before--smoking my after-dinner cigar. The +window was open to the summer air, which all day long had been +intensely hot. A letter received in the morning from Gloucestershire +from Mr. Coney, to which his son had scrawled a postscript: "Has that +bag turned up yet?" had set me thinking of the loss, and from that I +fell to thinking of the loss of the Clavering will, which had followed +close upon it. Edmund Clavering, by the way, had been with me that day +to impart some news. He was going to be married--to a charming girl, +too--and we were discussing settlements. My Lady Clavering, he said, +was figuring at Baden-Baden, and report ran that she was about to +espouse a French count with a fierce moustache. + +Presently I took up the _Times_, not opened before that day, and was +deep in a police case, which had convulsed the court in Marlborough +Street with laughter, and was convulsing me, when a vehicle dashed +down Essex Street. It was the van of the Parcels Delivery Company. + +"Mr. Strange live here?" was the question I heard from the man who had +descended from the seat beside the driver, when Watts went out. + +"All right," said Watts. + +"Here's a parcel for him. Nothing to pay." + +The driver whipped up his horse, then turned sharply round, +and--overturned the van. It was not the first accident of a similar +nature, or the last by many, that I have seen in that particular spot. +How it is I don't know, but drivers, especially cabmen, have an +unconquerable propensity for pulling their horses round in a +perilously short fashion at the bottom of Essex Street, and sometimes +the result is that they come to grief. I threw down my newspaper and +leaned out at the window watching the fun. The street was covered with +parcels, and the driver and his friend were throwing off their +consternation in choice language. One hamper could not be picked up: +it had contained wine loosely packed, and the broken bottles were +lying in a red pool. Where the mob collected from, that speedily +arrived to assist, was a marvel. The van at length took its departure +up the street, considerably shorn of the triumph with which it had +dashed down. + +This had taken up a considerable space of time, and it was growing too +dark to resume my newspaper. Turning from the window, I proceeded to +examine the parcel which Watts had brought up on its arrival and +placed on the table. It was about a foot square, wrapped in brown +paper, sealed and tied with string; and, in what Tony Lumpkin would +have called a confounded cramped, up-and-down hand, where you could +not tell an izzard from an R, was directed "C. Strange, Esquire." + +I took out my penknife, cut the string, and removed the paper; and +there was disclosed a pasteboard-box with green edges, also sealed. I +opened it, and from a mass of soft paper took out a small canvas bag, +tied round with tape, and containing thirty golden sovereigns! + +From the very depth of my conviction I believed it to be the bag we +had lost. It was the bag; for, on turning it round, there were Mr. +Coney's initials, S. C., neatly marked with blue cotton, as they had +been on the one left by George. It was one of their sample barley +bags. I wondered if they were the same sovereigns. Where had it been? +Who had taken it? And who had returned it? + +I rang the bell, and then called to Watts, who was coming up to answer +it, to bring Leah also. It was my duty to tell them, especially Leah, +of the money's restitution, as they had been inmates of the house when +it was lost. + +Watts only stared and ejaculated; but Leah, with some colour, for +once, in her pale cheeks, clasped her hands. "Oh, sir, I'm thankful +you have found it again!" she exclaimed. "I'm heartily thankful!" + +"So am I, Leah, though the mystery attending the transaction is as +great as ever; indeed, more so." + +It certainly was. They went down again, and I sat musing over the +problem. But nothing could I make out of it. One moment I argued that +the individual taking it (whomsoever it might be) must have had +temporary need of funds, and, the difficulty over, had now restored +the money. The next, I wondered whether anyone could have taken the +bag inadvertently, and had now discovered it. I locked the bag safely +up, wrote a letter to George Coney, and then went out to confide the +news to Arthur Lake. + +Taking the short cuts and passages that lead from Essex Street to the +Temple, as I generally did when bound for Lake's chambers, I was +passing onwards, when I found myself called to--or I thought so. +Standing still in the shade, leaning against the railings of the +Temple Gardens, was a slight man of middle height: and he seemed to +say "Charley." + +Glancing in doubt, half stopping as I did so, yet thinking I must have +been mistaken, I was passing on, when the voice came again. + +"Charley!" + +I stopped then. And I declare that in the revulsion it brought me you +might have knocked me down with a feather; for it was Tom Heriot. + +"I was almost sure it was you, Charles," he said in a low voice; "but +not quite sure." + +I had not often had such a scare as this. My heart, with pain and +dismay, beat as if it meant to burst its bonds. + +"Can it possibly be _you_?" I cried. "What brings you here? Why have +you come again?" + +"Reached London this morning. Came here when dusk set in, thinking I +might have the luck to see you or Lake, Charley." + +"But why have you left Scotland? You were safer there." + +"Don't know that I was. And I had grown tired to death of it." + +"It will end in death, or something like it, if you persist in staying +here." + +Tom laughed his gay, ringing laugh. I looked round to see that no one +was about, or within hearing. + +"What a croaker you are, old Charley! I'm sure you ought to kill the +fatted calf, to celebrate my return from banishment." + +"But, Tom, you _know_ how dangerous it is, and must be, for you to be +here in London." + +"And it was becoming dangerous up there," he quickly rejoined. "Since +the summer season set in, those blessed tourists are abroad again, +with their staves and knapsacks. No place is safe from them, and the +smaller and more obscure it is, the more they are sure to find it. The +other day I was in my boat in my fishing toggery, as usual, when a +fellow comes up, addresses me as 'My good man,' and plunges into +queries touching the sea and the fishing-trade. Now who do you think +that was, Charles?" + +"I can't say." + +"It was James Lawless, Q.C.--the leader who prosecuted at my trial." + +"Good heavens!" + +"I unfastened the boat, keeping my back to him and my face down, and +shot off like a whirlwind, calling out that I was behind time, and +must put out. I took good care, Charles, not to get back before the +stars were bright in the night sky." + +"Did he recognise you?" + +"No--no. For certain, no. But he would have done so had I stayed to +talk. And it is not always that I could escape as I did then. You must +see that." + +I saw it all too plainly. + +"So I thought it best to make myself scarce, Charles, and leave the +tourists' haunts. I sold my boat; no difficulty in that; though, of +course, the two men who bought it shaved me; and came over to London +as fast as a third-class train would bring me. Dare not put my nose +into a first-class carriage, lest I should drop upon some one of my +old chums." + +"Of all places, Tom, you should not have chosen London." + +"Will you tell me, old fellow, what other place I could have pitched +upon?" + +And I could not tell. + +"Go where I will," he continued, "it seems that the Philistines are +likely to find me out." + +We were pacing about now, side by side, keeping in the shade as much +as possible, and speaking under our breath. + +"You will have to leave the country, Tom; you must do it. And go +somewhere over the seas." + +"To Van Diemen's Land, perhaps," suggested Tom. + +"Now, be quiet. The subject is too serious for jesting. I should +think--perhaps--America. But I must have time to consider. Where do +you mean to stay at present? Where are you going to-night?" + +"I've been dodging about all day, not showing up much; but I'm going +now to where I lodged last, down Blackfriars way. You remember?" + +"Yes, I remember: it is not so long ago." + +"It is as safe as any other quarter, for aught I can tell. Any way, I +don't know of another." + +"Are you well, Tom?" I asked. He was looking thin, and seemed to have +a nasty cough upon him. + +"I caught cold some time ago, and it hangs about me," he replied. "Oh, +I shall be all right now I'm here," he added carelessly. + +"You ought to take a good jorum of something hot when you get to bed +to-night----" + +Tom laughed. "I _am_ likely to get anything of that sort in any +lodging I stand a chance of to-night. Well done, Charley! I haven't +old Leah to coddle me." + +And somehow the mocking words made me realize the discomforts and +deprivations of Tom Heriot's present life. How would it all end? + +We parted with a hand-shake: he stealing off on his way to his +lodging, I going thoughtfully on mine. It was a calm summer evening, +clear and lovely, the stars twinkling in the sky, but all its peace +had gone out for me. + +It was impossible to foresee what the ending would or could be. At +any moment Tom might be recognised and captured, so long as he +inhabited London; and it might be difficult to induce him to leave it. +Still more difficult to cause him to depart altogether for other lands +and climes. + +Not long before, I had consulted with Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar as to +the possibility of obtaining a pardon for Tom. That he had not been +guilty was indisputable, though the law had deemed him so. But the +Serjeant had given me no encouragement that any such movement would be +successful. The very fact, as he pointed out, of Tom Heriot's having +escaped clandestinely, would tell against him. What, I said then, if +Tom gave himself up? He smiled, and told me I had better not ask his +opinion upon the practical points of the case. + +So the old trouble was back again in full force, and I knew not how to +cope with it. + + * * * * * + +The summer sun, glowing with light and heat, lay full upon Hastings +and St. Leonard's. The broad expanse of sea sparkled beneath it; the +houses that looked on the water were burning and blistering under the +fierce rays. Miss Brightman, seated at her drawing-room window, +knitting in hand, observed that it was one of the most dazzling days +she remembered. + +The remark was made to me and to Annabel. We sat at the table +together, looking over a book of costly engravings that Miss Brightman +had recently bought. "I shall leave it with you, Charles," she said, +"when I go away; you will take care of it. And if it were not that you +are tied to London, and it would be too far for you to go up and down +daily, I would leave you my house also--that you might live in it, and +take care of that during my absence." + +Mrs. Brightman had come to her senses. Very much, I confess, to my +astonishment, much also I think to Annabel's, she had put aside her +prejudices and consented to our marriage. The difficulty of where her +daughter was to be during Miss Brightman's sojourn in Madeira had in +a degree paved the way for it. Annabel would, of course, have returned +to her mother; she begged hard to be allowed to do so: she believed it +her duty to be with her. But Miss Brightman would not hear of it, and, +had she yielded, I should have interposed my veto in Mr. Brightman's +name. In Hatch's words, strong in sense but weak in grammar, "their +home wasn't no home for Miss Annabel." + +Mrs. Brightman could only be conscious of this. During her sojourn at +Brighton, and for some little time after her return home, she had been +very much better; had fought resolutely with the insidious foe, and +conquered. But alas! she fell away again. Now she was almost as bad as +ever; tolerably sober by day, very much the opposite by night. + +Miss Brightman, dating forward, seeing, as she feared, only shoals and +pitfalls, and most anxious for Annabel, had journeyed up to Clapham to +her sister-in-law, and stayed there with her a couple of days. What +passed between them even Hatch never knew; but she did know that her +mistress was brought to a penitent and subdued frame of mind, and that +she promised Lucy Brightman, with many tears, to _strive_ to overcome +her fatal habit for the good God's sake. And it was during this visit +that she withdrew her opposition to the marriage; when Miss Brightman +returned home she carried the consent with her. + +And my present visit to Hastings was to discuss time and place and +other matters; more particularly the question of where our home was to +be. A large London house we were not yet rich enough to set up, and I +would not take Annabel to an inferior one; but I had seen a charming +little cottage at Richmond that might suit us--if she liked the +locality. + +Closing the book of engravings, I turned to Miss Brightman, and +entered upon the subject. Suddenly her attention wavered. It seemed to +be attracted by something in the road. + +"Why, bless my heart, _it is_!" she cried in astonishment. "If ever I +saw Hatch in my life, that is Hatch--coming up the street! Annabel, +child, give me the glasses." + +The glasses were on the table, and I handed them to her. Annabel flew +to the window and grew white. She was never free from fears of what +might happen in her mother's house. Hatch it was, and apparently in +haste. + +"What can be the matter?" she gasped. "Oh, Aunt Lucy!" + +"Hatch is nodding heartily, as if not much were wrong," remarked Miss +Brightman, who was watching her through the glasses. "Hatch is +peculiar in manner, as you are aware, Mr. Charles, but she means no +disrespect by it." + +I smiled. I knew Hatch quite as well as Miss Brightman knew her. + +"Now what brings you to Hastings?" she exclaimed, rising from her +chair, when Hatch was shown in. + +"My missis brought me, ma'am," returned Hatch, with composure. "Miss +Annabel, you be looking frighted, but there's nothing wrong. Yesterday +morning, all in a flurry like, your mamma took it into her head to +come down here, and we drove down with----" + +"_Drove_ down?" + +"Yes, ma'am, with four posters to the carriage. My missis can't abear +the rail; she says folks stare at her: and here we be at the Queen's +Hotel, she, and me, and Perry." + +"Would you like to take a chair, Hatch?" said Miss Brightman. + +"My legs is used to standing, ma'am," replied Hatch, with a nod of +thanks, "and I've not much time to linger. It was late last night when +we got here. This morning, up gets my missis, and downstairs she comes +to her breakfast in her sitting-room, and me with her to wait upon +her, for sometimes her hands is shaky, and she prefers me to Perry or +anybody else----" + +"How has your mistress been lately?" interposed Miss Brightman. + +"Better, ma'am. Not always quite the thing, though a deal better on +the whole. But I must get on about this morning," added Hatch +impressively. "'Waiter,' says my missis when the man brings up the +coffee. 'Mum?' says he. 'I am subject to spadical attacks in the +chest,' says she, 'and should like to have some brandy in my room: +they take me sometimes in the middle of the night. Put a bottle into +it, the very best French, and a corkscrew. Or you may as well put two +bottles,' she goes on; 'I may be here some time.' 'It shall be done, +mum,' says he. I was as vexed as I could be to hear it," broke off +Hatch, "but what could I do? I couldn't contradict my missis and tell +the man that no brandy must be put in her room, or else she'd drink +it. Well, ma'am, I goes down presently to my own breakfast with Perry, +and while we sat at it a chambermaid comes through the room: 'I've put +two bottles of brandy in the lady's bedroom, as was ordered,' says +she. With that Perry looks at me all in a fluster--he have no more +wits to turn things off than a born idiot. 'Very well,' says I to her, +eating at my egg as if I thought nothing; 'I hopes my missis won't +have no call to use 'em, but she's took awful bad in the chest +sometimes, and it's as well for us to be ready.' 'I'm sure I pities +her,' says the girl, 'for there ain't nothing worse than spasms. I has +'em myself occasional----'" + +When once Hatch was in the full flow of a narrative, there was no +getting in a word edgeways, and Miss Brightman had to repeat her +question twice: "Does Perry know the nature of the illness that +affects Mrs. Brightman?" + +"Why, in course he does, ma'am," was Hatch's rejoinder. "He couldn't +be off guessing it for himself, and the rest I told him. Why, ma'am, +without his helping, we could never keep it dark from the servants at +home. It was better to make a confidant of Perry, that I might have +his aid in screening the trouble, than to let it get round to +everybody. He's as safe and sure as I be, and when it all first came +out to him, he cried over it, to think of what his poor master must +have suffered in mind before death took him. Well, ma'am, I made haste +over my breakfast, and I went upstairs, and there was the bottles and +the corkscrew, so I whips 'em off the table and puts them out of +sight. Mrs. Brightman comes up presently, and looks about and goes +down again. Three separate times she comes up, and the third time she +gives the bell a whirl, and in runs the chambermaid, who was only +outside. 'I gave orders this morning,' says my lady, 'to have some +brandy placed in the room.' 'Oh, I have got the brandy,' says I, +before the girl could speak; 'I put it in the little cupboard here, +ma'am.' So away goes the girl, looking from the corners of her eyes at +me, as if suspicious I meant to crib it for my own use: and my +mistress began: 'Draw one of them corks, Hatch.' 'No, ma'am,' says I, +'not yet; please don't.' 'Draw 'em both,' says missis--for there are +times," added Hatch, "when a trifle puts her out so much that it's +hazardous to cross her. I drew the cork of one, and missis just +pointed with her finger to the tumbler on the wash-handstand, and I +brought it forward and the decanter of water. 'Now you may go,' says +she; so I took up the corkscrew. 'I told you to leave that,' says she, +in her temper, and I had to come away without it, and the minute I was +gone she turned the key upon me. Miss Annabel, I see the words are +grieving of you, but they are the truth, and I can but tell them." + +"Is she there now--locked in?" asked Miss Brightman. + +"She's there now," returned Hatch, with solemn enunciation, to make up +for her failings in grammar, which was never anywhere in times of +excitement; "she is locked in with them two bottles and the corkscrew, +and she'll just drink herself mad--and what's to be done? I goes at +once to Perry and tells him. 'Let's get in through the winder,' says +Perry--which his brains is only fit for a gander, as I've said many a +time. 'You stop outside her door to listen again downright harm,' says +I, 'that's what you'll do; and I'll go for Miss Brightman.' And here +I'm come, ma'am, running all the way." + +"What can I do?" wailed Miss Brightman. + +"Ma'am," answered Hatch, "I think that if you'll go back with me, and +knock at her room door, and call out that you be come to pay her a +visit, she'd undo it. She's more afeared of you than of anybody +living. She can't have done herself much harm yet, and you might coax +her out for a walk or a drive, and then bring her in to dinner +here--anything to get her away from them two dangerous bottles. If I +be making too free, ma'am, you'll be good enough to excuse me--it is +for the family's sake. At home I can manage her pretty well, but to +have a scene at the hotel would make it public." + +"What is to be the ending?" I exclaimed involuntarily as Miss +Brightman went in haste for her bonnet. + +"Why, the ending must be--just what it will be," observed Hatch +philosophically. "But, Mr. Charles, I don't despair of her yet. +Begging your pardon, Miss Annabel, you'd better not come. Your mamma +won't undo her door if she thinks there's many round it." + +Annabel stood at the window as they departed, her face turned from me, +her eyes blinded with tears. I drew her away, though I hardly knew how +to soothe her. It was a heavy grief to bear. + +"My days are passed in dread of what tidings may be on the way to me," +she began, after a little time given to gathering composure. "I ought +to be nearer my mother, Charles; I tell Aunt Lucy so almost every day. +She might be ill and dead before I could get to her, up in London." + +"And you will be nearer to her shortly, Annabel. My dear, where shall +our home be? I was thinking of Richmond----" + +"No, no," she interrupted in sufficient haste to show me she had +thoughts of her own. + +"Annabel! It shall not be _there_: at your mother's. Anywhere else." + +"It is somewhere else that I want to be." + +"Then you shall be. Where is it?" + +She lifted her face like a pleading child's, and spoke in a whisper. +"Charles, let me come to you in Essex Street." + +"_Essex Street!_" I echoed in surprise. "My dear Annabel, I will +certainly not bring you to Essex Street and its inconveniences. I +cannot do great things for you yet, but I can do better than that." + +"They would not be inconveniences to me. I would turn them into +pleasures. We would take another servant to help Watts and Leah; or +two if necessary. You would not find me the least encumbrance; I would +never be in the way of your professional rooms. And in the evening, +when you had finished for the day, we would dine, and go down to +mamma's for an hour, and then back again. Charles, it would be a +happy home: let me come to it." + +But I shook my head. I did not see how it could be arranged; and said +so. + +"No, because at present the idea is new to you," returned Annabel. +"_Think it over_, Charles. Promise me that you will do so." + +"Yes, my dear; I can at least promise you that." + +There was less trouble with Mrs. Brightman that day than had been +anticipated. She opened her door at once to her sister-in-law, who +brought her back to the Terrace. Hatch had been wise. In the afternoon +we all went for a drive in a fly, and returned to dinner. And the +following day Mrs. Brightman, with her servants, departed for London +in her travelling-carriage, no scandal whatever having been caused at +the Queen's Hotel. I went up by train early in the morning. + +It is surprising how much thinking upon a problem simplifies it. I +began to see by degrees that Annabel's coming to Essex Street could +be easily managed; nay, that it would be for the best. Miss Brightman +strongly advocated it. At present a large portion of my income had to +be paid over to Mrs. Brightman in accordance with her husband's will, +so that I could not do as I would, and must study economy. Annabel +would be rich in time; for Mrs. Brightman's large income, vested at +present in trustees, must eventually descend to Annabel; but that time +was not yet. And who knew what expenses Tom Heriot might bring upon +me? + +Changes had to be made in the house. I determined to confine the +business rooms to the ground floor; making Miss Methold's parlour, +which had not been much used since her death, my own private +consulting-room. The front room on the first floor would be our +drawing-room, the one behind it the dining-room. + +Leah was in an ecstasy when she heard the news. The workmen were +coming in to paint and paper, and then I told her. + +"Of course, Mr. Charles, it--is----" + +"Is what, Leah?" + +"Miss Annabel." + +"It should be no one else, Leah. We shall want another servant or two, +but you can still be major-domo." + +"If my poor master had only lived to see it!" she uttered, with +enthusiasm. "How happy he would have been; how proud to have her here! +Well, well, what turns things take!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +CONFESSION. + + +October came in; and we were married early in the month, the wedding +taking place from Mrs. Brightman's residence, as was of course only +right and proper. It was so very quiet a wedding that there is not the +least necessity for describing it--and how can a young man be expected +to give the particulars of his own? Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar was +present; Lord and Lady Level, now staying in London, drove down for +it; and Captain Chantrey gave his niece away. For Mrs. Brightman had +chosen to request him to accept her invitation to do so, and to be +accompanied by his wife, Lady Grace. Miss Brightman was also present, +having travelled up from Hastings the day before. Three or four days +later on, she would sail for Madeira. + +I could not spare more than a fortnight from work, leaving Lennard as +my locum tenens. Annabel would have been glad to spare less, for she +was haunted by visions of what might happen to her mother. Though +there was no especial cause for anxiety in that quarter just now, she +could never feel at ease. And on my part I was more anxious than ever +about Tom Heriot, for more reasons than one. + +The fortnight came to an end, all too soon: and late on the Saturday +evening we reached home. Watts threw open the door, and there stood +Leah in a silk gown. The drawing-room, gayer than it used to be, was +bright with a fire and preparations for tea. + +"How homelike it looks!" exclaimed Annabel. "Charles," she whispered, +turning to me with her earnest eyes, as she had been wont to do when a +child: "I will not make the least noise when you have clients with +you. You shall not know I am in the house: I will take care not to +drop even a reel of cotton on the carpet. I do thank you for letting +me come to Essex Street: I should not have seemed so completely your +wife had you taken me to any but your old home." + +The floors above were also in order, their chambers refurnished. Leah +went up to them with her new mistress, and I went down to the clerks' +office, telling Annabel I should not be there five minutes. One of the +clerks, Allen, had waited; but I had expected Lennard. + +"Is Mr. Lennard not here?" I asked. "Did he not wait? I wrote to him +to do so." + +"Mr. Lennard has not been here all day, sir," was Allen's reply. "A +messenger came from him this morning, to say he was ill." + +We were deep in letters and other matters, I and Allen, when the front +door opened next the office door, and there stood Arthur Lake, +laughing, a light coat on his arm. + +"Fancy! I've been down the river for a blow," cried he. "Just landed +at the pier here. Seeing lights in your windows, I thought you must +have got back, Charley." + +We shook hands, and he stayed a minute, talking. Then, wishing +good-night to Allen, he backed out of the room, making an almost +imperceptible movement to me with his head. I followed him out, +shutting the office door behind me. Lake touched my arm and drew me +outside. + +"I suppose you've not heard from Tom Heriot since you were away," +breathed Lake, in cautious tones, as we stood together on the outer +step. + +"No; I did not expect to hear. Why?" + +"I saw him three days ago," whispered Lake. "I had a queer-looking +letter on Wednesday morning from one Mr. Dominic Turk, asking me to +call at a certain place in Southwark. Of course, I guessed it was +Tom, and that he had moved his lodgings again; and I found I was +right." + +"Dominic Turk!" I repeated. "Does he call himself _that_?" + +Lake laughed. "He is passing now for a retired schoolmaster. Says he's +sure nobody can doubt he is one as long as he sticks to that name." + +"How is he? Has any fresh trouble turned up? I'm sure you've something +bad to tell me." + +"Well, Charley, honestly speaking, it is a bad look-out, in more ways +than one," he answered. "He is very ill, to begin with; also has an +idea that a certain policeman named Wren has picked up an inkling of +his return, and is trying to unearth him. But," added Lake, "we can't +very well talk in this place. I've more to say----" + +"Come upstairs, and take tea with me and Annabel," I interrupted. + +"Can't," said he; "my dinner's waiting. I'm back two hours later than +I expected to be; it has been frizzling, I expect, all the time. +Besides, old fellow, I'd rather you and I were alone. There's fearful +peril looming ahead, unless I'm mistaken. Can you come round to my +chambers to-morrow afternoon?" + +"No: we are going to Mrs. Brightman's after morning service." + +"It must be left until Monday, then; but I don't think there's much +time to be lost. Good-night." + +Lake hastened up the street, and I returned to Allen and the letters. + +With this interruption, and with all I found to do, the five minutes' +absence I had promised my wife lengthened into twenty. At last the +office was closed for the night, Allen left, and I ran upstairs, +expecting to have kept Annabel waiting tea. She was not in the +drawing-room, the tea was not made, and I went up higher and found her +sobbing in the bedroom. It sent me into a cold chill. + +"My love, what is this? Are you disappointed? Are you not happy?" + +"Oh, Charles," she sobbed, clinging to me, "you _know_ I am happy. It +is not that. But I could not help thinking of my father. Leah got +talking about him; and I remembered once his sitting in that very +chair, holding me on his knee. I must have been about seven years old. +Miss Methold was ill----" + +At that moment there came a knock and a ring at the front door. Not a +common knock and ring, but sharp, loud and prolonged, resounding +through the house as from some impatient messenger of evil. It +startled us both. Annabel's fears flew to her mother; mine to a +different quarter, for Lake's communication was troubling and +tormenting me. + +"Charles! if----" + +"Hush, dear. Listen." + +As we stood outside on the landing, her heart beating against my +encircling hand, and our senses strained to listen, we heard Watts +open the front door. + +"Has Mr. Strange come home?" cried a voice hurriedly--that of a +woman. + +"Yes," said Watts. + +"Can I speak to him? It is on a matter of life and death." + +"Where do you come from?" asked Watts, with habitual caution. + +"I come from Mr. Lennard. Oh, pray do not waste time!" + +"All right, my darling; it is not from your mother," I whispered to +Annabel, as I ran down. + +A young woman stood at the foot of the stairs; I was at a loss to +guess her condition in life. She had the face and manner of a lady, +but her dress was poor and shabby. + +"I have come from my father, sir--Mr. Lennard," she said in a low +tone, blushing very much. "He is dangerously ill: we fear he is dying, +and so does he. He bade me say that he must see you, or he cannot die +in peace. Will you please be at the trouble of coming?" + +One hasty word despatched to my wife, and I went out with Miss +Lennard, hailing a cab, which had just set down its freight some +doors higher up. "What is the matter with your father?" I questioned, +as we whirled along towards Blackfriars Bridge, in accordance with her +directions. + +"It is an attack of inward inflammation," she replied. "He was taken +ill suddenly last night after he got home from the office, and he has +been in great agony all day. This evening he grew better; the pain +almost subsided; but the doctor said that might not prove a favourable +symptom. My father asked for the truth--whether he was dying, and the +answer was that he might be. Then my father grew terribly uneasy in +mind, and said he must see you if possible before he died--and sent me +to ascertain, sir, whether you had returned home." + +The cab drew up at a house in a side street, a little beyond +Blackfriars Bridge. We entered, and Miss Lennard left me in the front +sitting-room. The remnants of faded gentility were strangely mixed +with bareness and poverty. Poor Lennard was a gentleman born and bred, +but had been reduced by untoward misfortune. Trifling ornaments stood +about; "antimacassars" were thrown over the shabby chairs. Miss +Lennard had gone upstairs, but came down quickly. + +"It is the door on the left, sir, on the second landing," said she, +putting a candle in my hand. "My father is anxiously expecting you, +but says I am not to go up." + +It was a small landing, nothing in front of me but a bare white-washed +wall, and _two_ doors to the left. I blundered into the wrong one. A +night-cap border turned on the bed, and a girlish face looked up from +under it. + +"What do you want?" she said. + +"Pardon me. I am in search of Mr. Lennard." + +"Oh, it is the next room. But--sir! wait a moment. Oh, wait, wait!" + +I turned to her in surprise, and she put up two thin white hands in an +imploring attitude. "Is it anything bad? Have you come to take him?" + +"To take him! What do you mean?" + +"You are not a sheriff's officer?" + +I smiled at her troubled countenance. "I am Mr. Strange--come to see +how he is." + +Down fell her hands peacefully. "Sir, I beg your pardon: thank you for +telling me. I know papa has sometimes been in apprehension, and I lie +here and fear things till I am stupid. A strange step on the stairs, +or a strange knock at the door, sets me shaking." + +The next room was the right one, and Lennard was lying in it on a low +bed; his face looked ghastly, his eyes wildly anxious. + +"Lennard," I said, "I am sorry to hear of your illness. What's the +matter?" + +"Sit down, Mr. Strange; sit down," he added, pointing to a chair, +which I drew near. "It is an attack of inflammation: the pain has +ceased now, but the doctor says it is an uncertain symptom: it may be +for better, or it may be for worse. If the latter, I have not many +hours to live." + +"What brought it on?" + +"I don't know: unless it was that I drank a draught of cold water +when I was hot. I have not been very strong for some time, and a +little thing sends me into a violent heat. I had a long walk, four +miles, and I made nearly a run of it half the way, being pressed for +time. When I got in, I asked Leah for some water, and drank two +glasses of it, one after the other. It seemed to strike a chill to me +at the time." + +"It was at the office, then. Four miles! Why did you not ride?" + +"It was not your business I was out on, sir; it was my own. But +whether that was the cause or not, the illness came on, and it cannot +be remedied now. If I am to die, I must die; God is over all: but I +cannot go without making a confession to you. How the fear of death's +approach alters a man's views and feelings!" he went on, in a +different tone. "Yesterday, had I been told I must make this +confession to you, I should have said, Let me die, rather; but it +appears to me now to be an imperative duty, and one I must nerve +myself to perform." + +Lennard lay on his pillow, and looked fixedly at me, and I not less +fixedly at him. What, in the shape of a "confession," could he have to +make to me? He had been managing clerk in Mr. Brightman's office long +before I was in it, a man of severe integrity, and respected by all. + +"The night Mr. Brightman died," he began under his panting breath, +"the bag of gold was missing--George Coney's. You remember it." + +"Well?" + +"I took it." + +Was Lennard's mind wandering? He was no more likely to take gold than +I was. I sat still, gazing at him. + +"Yes, it was I who took it, sir. Will you hear the tale?" + +A deep breath, and the drawing of my chair closer to his bedside, was +my only answer. + +"You are a young man, Mr. Strange. I have taken an interest in you +since you first came, a lad, into the office, and were under my +authority--Charles, do this; Charles, do the other. Not that I have +shown any especial interest, for outwardly I am cold and +undemonstrative; but I saw what you were, and liked you in my heart. +You are a young man yet, I say; but, liking you, hoping for your +welfare, I pray Heaven that it may never be your fate, in after-life, +to be trammelled with misfortunes as I have been. For me they seem to +have had no end, and the worst of them in later years has been that +brought upon me by an undutiful and spendthrift son." + +In a moment there flashed into my mind _my_ later trouble in Tom +Heriot: I seemed to be comparing the one with the other. "Have you +been trammelled with an undutiful son?" I said aloud. + +"I have been, and am," replied Lennard. "It has been my later cross. +The first was that of losing my property and position in life, for, as +you know, Mr. Strange, I was born and reared a gentleman. The last +cross has been Leonard--that is his name, Leonard Lennard--and it has +been worse than the first, for it has kept us _down_, and in a +perpetual ferment for years. It has kept us poor amongst the poor: my +salary, as you know, is a handsome one, but it has chiefly to be +wasted upon him." + +"What age is he?" + +"Six-and-twenty yesterday." + +"Then you are not forced to supply his extravagance, to find money for +his faults and follies. You are not obliged to let him keep you down." + +"By law, no," sighed poor Lennard. "But these ill-doing sons sometimes +entwine themselves around your very heartstrings; far rather would you +suffer and suffer than not ward off the ill from them. He has tried +his hand at many occupations, but remains at none; the result is +always trouble: and yet his education and intellect, his good looks +and perfect, pleasant manners, would fit him for almost any +responsible position in life. But he is reckless. Get into what scrape +he would, whether of debt, or worse, here he was sure of a refuge and +a welcome; I received him, his mother and sisters loved him. One of +them is bedridden," he added, in an altered tone. + +"I went first by mistake into the next room. I probably saw her." + +"Yes, that's Maria. It is a weakness that has settled in her legs; +some chronic affection, I suppose; and there she has lain for ten +months. With medical attendance and sea air she might be restored, +they tell me, but I can provide neither. Leonard's claims have been +too heavy." + +"But should you waste means on him that ought to be applied to her +necessities?" I involuntarily interrupted. + +He half raised himself on his elbow, and the effort proved how weak he +was, and his eyes and his voice betrayed a strange earnestness. "When +a son, whom you love better than life itself, has to be saved from the +consequences of his follies, from prison, from worse disgrace even +than that, other interests are forgotten, let them be what they may. +Silent, patient needs give way to obtrusive wants that stare you in +the face, and that may bear fear and danger in their train. Mr. +Strange, you can imagine this." + +"I do. It must ever be so." + +"The pecuniary wants of a young man, such as my son is, are as the cry +of the horse-leech. Give! give! Leonard mixes sometimes with distant +relatives, young fellows of fashion, who are moving in a sphere far +above our present position, although I constantly warn him not to do +it. One of these wants, imperative and to be provided for in some way +or other, occurred the beginning of February in this year. How I +managed to pay it I can hardly tell, but it stripped me of all the +money I could raise, and left me with some urgent debts upon me. The +rent was owing, twelve months the previous December, and some of the +tradespeople were becoming clamorous. The landlord, discerning the +state of affairs, put in a distress, terrifying poor Maria, whose +illness had then not very long set in, almost to death. That I had +the means to pay the man out you may judge, when I tell you that we +had not the money to buy a joint of meat or a loaf of bread." + +Lennard paused to wipe the dew from his brow. + +"Maria was in bed, wanting comforts; Charlotte was worn out with +apprehension; Leonard was away again, and we had nothing. Of my wife I +will not speak: of delicate frame and delicately reared, the +long-continued troubles have reduced her to a sort of dumb apathy. No +credit anywhere, and a distress in for rent! In sheer despair, I +resolved to disclose part of my difficulty to Mr. Brightman, and ask +him to advance me a portion of my next quarter's salary. I hated to do +it. A reduced gentleman is, perhaps, over-fastidious. I know I have +been so, and my pride rose against it. In health, I could not have +spoken to you, Mr. Charles, as I am now doing. I went on, +shilly-shallying for a few days. On the Saturday morning Charlotte +came to me with a whisper: 'That man in the house says if the rent is +not paid to-night, the things will be taken out and sold on Monday: it +is the very last day they'll give.' I went to the office, my mind made +up at length, and thinking what I should say to Mr. Brightman. Should +I tell him part of the truth, or should I urge some plea, foreign to +it? It was an unusually busy day: I dare say you remember it, Mr. +Charles, for it was that of Mr. Brightman's sudden death. Client after +client called, and no opportunity offered for my speaking to him in +private. I waited for him to come down, on his way out in the evening, +thinking I would speak to him then. He did not come, and when the +clients left, and I went upstairs, I found he was stopping in town to +see Sir Edmund Clavering. I should have spoken to him then, but you +were present. He told me to look in again in the course of the +evening, and I hoped I might find him alone then. You recollect the +subsequent events of the night, sir?" + +"I shall never forget them." + +"When I came in, as he directed me, between seven and eight o'clock, +there occurred that flurry with Leah--the cause of which I never knew. +She said Mr. Brightman was alone, and I went up. He was lying in your +room, Mr. Charles; had fallen close to his own desk, the deep drawer +of which stood open. I tried to raise him; I sprinkled water on his +face, but I saw that he was dead. On the desk lay a small canvas bag. +I took it up and shook it. Why, I do not know, for I declare that no +wrong thought had then come into my mind. He appeared to have +momentarily put it out of the drawer, probably in search of something, +for his private cheque-book and the key of the iron safe, that I knew +were always kept in the drawer, lay near it. I shook the bag, and its +contents sounded like gold. I opened it, and counted thirty +sovereigns. Mr. Brightman was dead. I could not apply to him; and yet +money I must have. The temptation upon me was strong, and I took it. +Don't turn away from me, sir. There are some temptations too strong to +be resisted by a man in his necessities." + +"Indeed, I am not turning from you. The temptation was overwhelmingly +great." + +"Indeed," continued the sick man, "the devil was near me then. I put +the key and the cheque-book inside, and I locked the drawer, and +placed the keys in Mr. Brightman's pocket, where he kept them, and I +leaped down the stairs with the bag in my hand. It was all done in a +minute or two of time, though it seems long in relating it. Where +should I put the bag, now I had it? Upon my person? No: it might be +missed directly, and inquired for. I was in a tumult--scarcely sane, I +believe--and I dashed into the clerks' office, and, taking off the lid +of the coal-box, put it there. Then I tore off for a surgeon. You know +the rest. When I returned with him you were there; and the next +visitor, while we were standing round Mr. Brightman, was George Coney, +after his bag of money. I never shall forget the feeling when you +motioned me to take Mr. Brightman's keys from his pocket to get the +bag out of the drawer. Or when--after it was missed--you took me with +you to search for it, in the very office where it was, and I moved the +coal-box under the desk. Had you only happened to lift the lid, sir!" + +"Ah!" + +"When the search was over, and I went home, I had put the bag in my +breastpocket. The gold saved me from immediate trouble, but----" + +"You have sent it back to me, you know--the bag and the thirty +pounds." + +"Yes, I sent it back--tardily. I _could_ not do it earlier, though the +crime coloured my days with remorse, and I never knew a happy moment +until it was restored. But Leonard had been back again, and +restoration was not easy." + +Miss Lennard opened the door at this juncture. "Papa, the doctor is +here. Can he come up? He says he ought to see you." + +"Oh, certainly, he must come up," I interposed. + +"Yes, yes, Charlotte," said Lennard. + +The doctor came in, and stood looking at his patient, after putting a +few questions. "Well," said he, "you are better; you will get over +it." + +"Do you really think so?" I asked joyfully. + +"Decidedly I do, now. It has been a sharp twinge, but the danger's +over. You see, when pain suddenly ceases, mortification sometimes sets +in, and I could not be sure. But you will do this time, Mr. Lennard." + +Lennard had little more to say; and, soon after the doctor left, I +prepared to follow him. + +"There's a trifle of salary due to me, Mr. Strange," he whispered; +"that which has been going on since Quarter Day. I suppose you will +not keep it from me?" + +"Keep it from you! No. Why should I? Do you want it at once? You can +have it if you do." + +Leonard looked up wistfully. "You do not think of taking me back +again? You will not do that?" + +"Yes, I will. You and I shall understand each other better than ever +now." + +The tears welled up to his eyes. He laid his other hand--I had taken +one--across his face. I bent over him with a whisper. + +"What has passed to-night need never be recurred to between us; and I +shall never speak of it to another. We all have our trials and +troubles, Lennard. A very weighty one is lying now upon me, though it +is not absolutely my own--_brought_ upon me, you see, as yours was. +And it is worse than yours." + +"Worse!" he exclaimed, looking at me. + +"More dangerous in its possible consequences. Now mind," I broke off, +shaking him by the hand, "you are not to attempt to come to Essex +Street until you are quite strong enough for it. But I shall see you +here again on Monday, for I have two or three questions to ask you as +to some of the matters that have transpired during my absence. +Good-night, Lennard; keep up a good heart; you will outlive your +trials yet." + +And when I left him he was fairly sobbing. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +DANGER. + + +Mrs. Brightman was certainly improving. When I reached her house with +Annabel on the following day, Sunday, between one and two o'clock, she +was bright and cheerful, and came towards the entrance-gates to meet +us. She, moreover, displayed interest in all we told her of our +honeymoon in the Isle of Wight, and of the places we had visited. +Besides that, I noticed that she took water with her dinner. + +"If she'll only keep to it," said Hatch, joining me in her +unceremonious fashion as I strolled in the garden later, smoking a +cigar. "Yes, Mr. Charles, she's trying hard to put bad habits away +from her, and I hope she'll be able to do it." + +"I hope and trust she will!" + +"Miss Brightman went back to Hastings the day after the wedding-day," +continued Hatch; "but before she started she had a long interview with +my mistress, they two shut up in missis's bedroom alone. For pretty +nigh all the rest of the day, my missis was in tears, and she has not +touched nothing strong since." + +"Nothing at all!" I cried in surprise, for it seemed too good to be +true. "Why, that's a fortnight ago! More than a fortnight." + +"Well, it is so, Mr. Charles. Not but that missis has tried as long +and as hard before now--and failed again." + +It was Monday evening before I could find time to go round to +Lake's--and he did not come to me. He was at home, poring over some +difficult law case by lamp-light. + +"Been in court all day, Charley," he cried. "Have not had a minute to +spare for you." + +"About Tom?" I said, as I sat down. "You seemed to say that you had +more unpleasantness to tell me." + +"Aye, about Tom," he replied, turning his chair to face me, and +propping his right elbow upon his table. "Well, I fear Tom is in a bad +way." + +"In health, you mean?" + +"I do. His cough is frightful, and he is more like a skeleton than a +living being. I should say the illness has laid hold of his lungs." + +"Has he had a doctor?" + +"No. Asks how he is to have one. Says a doctor might (they were his +own words) smell a rat. Doctors are not called in to the class of +people lodging in that house unless they are dying: and it would soon +be seen by any educated man that Tom is not of _their_ kind. My +opinion is, that a doctor could not do him much good now," added Lake. + +He looked at me as he spoke; to see, I suppose, whether I took in his +full meaning. I did--unhappily. + +"And what do you think he is talking of now, Charles?" returned Lake. +"Of giving himself up." + +"Giving himself up! What, to justice?" + +Lake nodded. "You know what Tom Heriot is--not much like other +people." + +"But why should he think of _that_? It would end everything." + +"I was on the point of asking him why," said Lake. "Whether I should +have had a satisfactory answer, I cannot say; I should think he could +not give one; but we were interrupted. Miss Betsy Lee came in." + +"Who? What?" I cried, starting from my chair. + +"The young lady you told me of who lives in Lambeth--Miss Betsy Lee. +Sit down, Charley. She came over to bring him a pot of jelly." + +"Then he has let those people know where he is, Lake! Is he mad?" + +"Mad as to carelessness," assented Lake. "I tell you Tom Heriot's not +like other people." + +"He will leave himself no chance." + +"She seems to be a nice, modest little woman," said Lake; "and I'll go +bail her visit was quite honest and proper. She had made this jelly, +she told Tom, and she and her father hoped it would serve to +strengthen him, and her father sent his respects, and hopes to hear +that Captain Strange was feeling better." + +"Well, Lake, the matter will get beyond me," I said in despair. "Only +a word dropped, innocently, by these people in some dangerous quarter, +and where will Tom be?" + +"That's just it," said Lake. "Policeman Wren is acquainted with them." + +"Did you leave the girl there?" + +"No. Some rough man came into the room smoking, and sat down, +evidently with the intention of making an evening of it; he lives in +the same house and has made acquaintance with Tom, or Tom with him. +So I said good-night, and the girl did the same, and we went down +together. 'Don't you think Captain Strange looks very ill, sir?' said +she as we got into the street. 'I'm afraid he does,' I answered. 'I'm +sure he does, sir,' she said. 'It's a woeful pity that somebody should +be coming upon him for a big back debt just now, obliging him to keep +quiet in a low quarter!' So that is what Tom has told his Lambeth +friends," concluded Lake. + +Lake gave me the address in Southwark, and I determined to see Tom the +next evening. In that, however, I was disappointed. One of our oldest +clients, passing through London from the country on his way to Pau, +summoned me to him on the Tuesday evening. + +But I went on Wednesday. The stars were shining overhead as I +traversed the silent street, making out Tom's lodgings. He had only an +attic bedroom, I found, and I went up to it. He was partly lying +across the bed when I entered. + +I almost thought even then that I saw death written in his face. +White, wan, shadowy it looked; much changed, much worn from what it +was three weeks before. But it lighted up with a smile, as he got up +to greet me. + +"Halloa, Charley!" cried he. "Best congratulations! Made yourself into +a respectable man. All good luck to yourself and madam. I'm thinking +of coming to Essex Street to pay the wedding visit." + +"Thank you," said I, "but do be serious. My coming here is a hazard, +as you know, Tom; don't let us waste in nonsense the few minutes I may +stay." + +"Nonsense!" cried Tom. "Why, do you think I should be afraid to +venture to Essex Street?--what nonsense is there in that? Look here, +Charley!" + +From some box in a dark corner of the room, he got out an old big blue +cloak lined with red, and swung it on. The collar, made of some black +curly wool, stood up above his ears. He walked about the small room, +exhibiting himself. + +"Would the sharpest officer in Scotland Yard take me for anyone but +old Major Carlen?" laughed he. "I'm sure I look like his double in +this elegant cloak. It was his, once." + +"His! What, Major Carlen's?" + +"Just so. He made me a present of it." + +"You have seen him, then!" + +"I sent for him," answered Tom, putting off the old cloak and coughing +painfully after his recent exertion. "I thought I should like to see +the old fellow; I was not afraid he'd betray me; Carlen would not do +that; and I dropped a quiet note to his club, taking the chance of his +being in town." + +"Taking the chance! Suppose he had not been in town, Tom, and the note +had fallen into wrong hands--some inquisitive waiter, let us say, who +chose to open it?" + +"Well--what then? A waiter would only turn up his nose at Mr. Dominic +Turk, the retired schoolmaster, and close up the note again for the +Major." + +"And what would Major Carlen make of Mr. Dominic Turk?" + +"Major Carlen would know my handwriting, Charley." + +"And he came in answer to it?" + +"He came: and blew me up in a loud and awful fashion; seemed to be +trying to blow the ceiling off. First, he threatened to go out and +bring in the police; next, he vowed he would go straight to Blanche +and tell her all. Finally, he calmed down and promised to send me one +of his cast-off cloaks to disguise me, in case I had to go into the +streets. Isn't it a beauty?" + +"Well, now, Tom, if you can be serious for once, what is going to +become of you, and what is to be done? I've come to know." + +"Wish I could tell you; don't know myself," said he lightly. + +"What was it you said to Lake about giving yourself up?" + +"Upon my word of honour, Charley, I sometimes feel inclined to do it. +I couldn't be much worse off in prison than I am here. Sick and sad, +lad, needing comforts that can't be had in such a place as this; no +one to see after me, no one to attend to me. Anyway, it would end the +suspense." + +I sat turning things about in my mind. It all seemed so full of +hazard. That he must be got away from his present quarters was +certain. I told him so. + +"But you are so recklessly imprudent, you see, Tom," I observed, "and +it increases the risk. You have had Miss Betsy Lee here." + +Tom flung himself back with a laugh. "She has been here twice, the +good little soul. The old man came once." + +"Don't you think you might as well take up your standing to-morrow on +the top of the Monument, and proclaim yourself to the public at large? +You try me greatly, Tom!" + +"Try you because I see the Lees! Come, Charley, that's good. They are +as safe as you are." + +"In intention perhaps. How came you to let them know you were to be +found here?" + +"How came I?" he carelessly rejoined. "Let's see? Oh, I remember. One +evening when I was hipped, fit to die of it all and of the confinement +to this wretched room, I strolled out. My feet took me to the old +ground--Lambeth--and to Lee's. He chanced to see me, and invited me +in. Over some whisky and water, I opened out my woes to them; not of +course the truth, but as near as might be. Told them of a curmudgeon +creditor of past days that I feared was coming down upon me, so that I +had to be in close hiding for a bit." + +"But you need not have told them where." + +"Oh, they'll be cautious. Miss Betsy was so much struck with my cough +and my looks that she said she should make some jelly for me, of the +kind she used to make for her mother before she died; and the good +little girl has brought me some over here twice in a jar. They are +all right, Charley." + +It was of no use contending with him. After sitting a little time +longer, I promised that he should shortly see me again or hear from +me, and took my departure. Full of doubt and trouble, I wanted to be +alone, to decide, if possible, what was to be done. + +What to do about Tom I knew not. That he required nursing and +nourishment, and that he ought to be moved where he could have it, was +indisputable. But--the risk! + +Three-parts of the night I lay awake, thinking of different plans. +None seemed feasible. In the morning I was hardly fit for my day's +work, and set to it with unsteady nerves and a worried brain. If I had +only someone to consult with, some capable man who would help me! I +did think of Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar; but I knew he would not like +it, would probably refuse advice. One who now and again sat in the +position of judge, sentencing men himself, would scarcely choose to +aid in concealing an escaped convict. + +I was upstairs in the dining-room at one o'clock, taking luncheon with +Annabel, when the door was thrown back by Watts and there loomed into +the room the old blue cloak with the red lining. For a moment I +thought it was the one I had seen the past night in Southwark, and my +heart leaped into my mouth. Watts's quiet announcement dispelled the +alarm. + +"Major Carlen, sir." + +The Major unclasped his cloak after shaking hands with us, and flung +it across the sofa, just as Tom had flung his on the bed. I pointed to +the cold beef, and asked if he would take some. + +"Don't mind if I do, Charles," said he, drawing a chair to the table: +"I'm too much bothered just now to eat as I ought. A pretty kettle of +fish this is, lad, that you and I have had brought upon us!" + +I gave him a warning look, glancing at Annabel. The old fellow +understood me--she had not been trusted with the present trouble. +That Tom Heriot had effected his escape, Annabel knew; that it was +expected he would make his way home, she knew; but that he had long +been here, and was now close at hand, I had never told her. Why +inflict upon her the suspense I had to endure? + +"Rather a chilly day for the time of year," observed the Major, as he +coughed down his previous words. "Just a little, Mrs. Strange; +underdone, please." + +Annabel, who carved at luncheon-time, helped him carefully. "And what +kettle of fish is it that you and Charles are troubled with, Major?" +she inquired, smiling. + +"Ah--aw--don't care to say much about it," answered the Major, more +ready at an excuse than I should have deemed him. "Blanche is up to +her ears in anger against Level; says she'll get a separation from +him, and all that kind of nonsense. But you and I may as well not make +it our business, Charles, I expect: better let married folk fight out +their own battles. And have you heard from your Aunt Lucy yet, Mrs. +Strange?" + +So the subject was turned off for the time; but down below, in my +office, the Major went at it tooth and nail, talking himself into a +fever. All the hard names in the Major's vocabulary were hurled at +Tom. His original sin was disgraceful enough, never to be condoned, +said the Major; but his present imprudent procedure was worse, and +desperately wicked. + +"Are Blanche and her husband still at variance?" I asked, when he had +somewhat cooled down on the other subject. + +"They just are, and are likely to remain so," growled the Major. "It's +Blanche's fault. Men have ways of their own, and she's a little fool +for wishing to interfere with his. Don't let your wife begin that, +Charles; it's my best advice to you. You are laughing, young fellow! +Well, perhaps you and Level don't row in quite the same boat; but you +can't foresee the shoals you may pitch into. No one can." + +We were interrupted by Lennard, who had come back on the previous day, +pale and pulled down by his sharp attack of illness, but the same +efficient man of business as ever. A telegram had been delivered, +which he could not deal with without me. + +"I'll be off, then," said the Major; "I suppose I'm only hindering +work. And I wish you well through your difficulties, Charles," he +added significantly. "I wish all of us well through them. Good-day, +Mr. Lennard." + +The Major was ready enough to wish _that_, but he could not suggest +any means by which it might be accomplished. I had asked him; and he +confessed himself incompetent to advise. "I should send him off to sea +in a whaling-boat and keep him there," was all the help he gave. + +Lennard stayed beyond time that evening, and was ready in my private +room to go over certain business with me that had transpired during my +own absence. I could not give the necessary attention to it, try as +earnestly as I would: Tom and _his_ business kept dancing in my brain +to the exclusion of other things. Lennard asked me whether I was ill. + +"No," I answered; "at least, not in body." And as I spoke, the thought +crossed me to confide the trouble to Lennard. He had seen too much +trouble himself not to be safe and cautious, and perhaps he might +suggest something. + +"Let Captain Heriot come to me," he immediately said. "He could not be +safer anywhere. Sometimes we let our drawing-room floor; it is vacant +now, and he can have it. My wife and my daughter Charlotte will attend +to his comforts and nurse him, if that may be, into health. It is the +best thing that can be done with him, Mr. Charles." + +I saw that it was, seeming to discern all the advantages of the +proposal at a grasp, and accepted it. We consulted as to how best to +effect Tom's removal, which Lennard himself undertook. I dropped a +hasty note to "Mr. Turk" to prepare him to be in readiness the +following evening, and Lennard posted it when he went out. He had no +sooner gone, than the door of my private room slowly opened, and, +rather to my surprise, Leah appeared. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, for presuming to disturb you here," she said; +"but I can't rest. There's some great trouble afloat; I've seen it in +your looks and ways, sir, ever since Sunday. Your face couldn't +deceive me when you were my little nursling, Master Charles, and it +can't deceive me now. Is it about Mr. Tom?" + +"Well, yes, it is, Leah." + +Her face turned white. "He has not got himself taken, surely!" + +"No; it's not so bad as that--yet." + +"Thank Heaven for it!" she returned. "I knew it was him, and I'm all +in a twitter about him from morning till night. I can't sleep or eat +for dreading the news that any moment may bring of him. It seems to +me, Mr. Charles, that one must needs be for ever in a twitter in this +world; before one trouble is mended, another turns up. No sooner am I +a bit relieved about poor Nancy, that unfortunate daughter of mine, +than there comes Mr. Tom." + +The relief that Leah spoke of was this: some relatives of Leah's +former husband, Nancy's father, had somehow got to hear of Nancy's +misfortunes. Instead of turning from her, they had taken her and her +cause in hand, and had settled her and her three children in a general +shop in Hampshire near to themselves, where she was already beginning +to earn enough for a good living. The man who was the cause of all the +mischief had emigrated, and meant never to return to Europe. + +And Leah had taken my advice in the matter, and disclosed all to +Watts. He was not in the least put out by it, as she had feared he +would be; only told her she was a simpleton for not having told him +before. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +WITH MR. JONES + + + My Dear Charles,--I particularly wish you to come to me. I want + some legal advice, and I would rather you acted for me than + anyone else. Come up this morning, please. + Your affectionate sister, + BLANCHE. + +The above note, brought from Gloucester Place on Monday morning by one +of Lady Level's servants, reached me before ten o'clock. By the +dashing character of the handwriting, I judged that Blanche had not +been in the calmest temper when she penned it. + +"Is Lord Level at home?" I inquired of the man Sanders. + +"No, sir. His lordship went down to Marshdale yesterday evening. A +telegram came for him, and I think it was in consequence of that he +went." + +I wrote a few words to Blanche, telling her I would be with her as +soon as I could, and sent it by Sanders. + +But a lawyer's time is not always his own. One client after another +kept coming in that morning, as if on purpose; and it was half-past +twelve in the day when I reached Gloucester Place. + +The house in Gloucester Place was, and had been for some little time +now, entirely rented by Lord Level of Major Carlen. The Major, when in +London, had rooms in Seymour Street, but lived chiefly at his club. + +"Her ladyship has gone out, sir," was Sanders's greeting to me, when +he answered my ring at the door-bell. + +"Gone out?" + +"Just gone," confirmed Major Carlen, who was there, it seemed, and +came forward in the wake of Sanders. "Come in, Charles." + +He turned into the dining-room, and I after him. "Blanche ought to +have waited in," I remarked. "I have come up at the greatest +inconvenience." + +"She has gone off in a tantrum," cried the Major, lowering his voice +as he carefully closed the door and pushed a chair towards me, just as +if the house were still in his occupancy. + +"But where has she gone?" I asked, not taking the chair, but standing +with my elbow on the mantelpiece. + +"Who's to know? To you, in Essex Street, I shouldn't wonder. She was +on the heights of impatience at your not coming." + +"Not to Essex Street, I think, Major. I should have seen her." + +"Nonsense! There's fifty turnings and windings between this and Essex +Street, where you might miss one another; your cab taking the straight +way and she the crooked," retorted the Major. "When Blanche gets her +back up, you can't easily put it down." + +"Something has gone contrary, I expect." + +"Nothing has gone contrary but herself," replied the Major, who seemed +in a cross and contrary mood on his own part. "Women are the very +deuce for folly." + +"Well, what is it all about, sir? I suppose you can tell me?" + +The Major sat down in Lord Level's easy-chair, pushed back his cloak, +and prepared to explain. + +"What it's all about is just nothing, Charles; but so far as Madam +Blanche's version goes, it is this," said he. "They were about to sit +down, yesterday evening, to dinner--which they take on Sundays at five +o'clock (good, pious souls!), and limit their fare to roast beef and a +tart--when a telegram arrived from Marshdale. My lord seemed put out +about it; my lady was no doubt the same. 'I must go down at once, +Blanche,' said he, speaking on the spur of the moment. 'But why? +Where's the need of it?' returned she. 'Surely there can be nothing +at Marshdale to call you away on Sunday and in this haste?' 'Yes,' +said he, 'there is; there's illness.' And then, Blanche says, he tried +to cough down the words, as if he had made a slip of the tongue. 'Who +is ill?' said Blanche. 'Let me see the telegram.' Level slid the +telegram into his pocket, and told her it was Mr. Edwards, the old +steward. Down he sat again at the table, swallowed a mouthful of beef, +sent Sanders to put up a few things in his small portmanteau, and was +off in a cab like the wind. Fact is," added the Major, "had he failed +to catch that particular train, he would not have got down at all, +being Sunday; and Sanders says that catching it must have been a near +shave for his lordship." + +"Is that all?" + +"No. This morning there was delivered here a letter for his lordship; +post-mark Marshdale, handwriting a certain Italian one that Blanche +has seen before. She has seen the writer, too, it seems--a fair lady +called Nina. Blanche argues that as the letter came from Marshdale, +the lady must be at Marshdale, and she means to know without delay, +she says, who and what this damsel is, and what the tie may be that +binds her to Lord Level and gives her the right to pursue him, as she +does, and the power to influence his movements, and to be at her beck +and call. The probability is," added the shrewd Major, "that this +person wrote to him on the Saturday, but, being a foreigner, was not +aware that he would not receive her letter on Sunday morning. Finding +that he did not arrive at Marshdale on the Sunday, and the day getting +on, she despatched the telegram. That's how I make it out, Charles; I +don't know if I am right." + +"You think, then, that some Italian lady is at Marshdale?" + +"Sure of it," returned the Major. "I've heard of it before to-day. +Expect she lives there, making journeys to her own land between +whiles, no doubt. The best and the worst of us get homesick." + +"You mean that she lives there in--in--well, in a manner not quite +orthodox, and that Lord Level connives at it?" + +"Connives at it!" echoed the old reprobate. "Why, he is at the top and +bottom of it. Level's a man of the world, always was, and does as the +world does. And that little ignorant fool, Blanche, ferrets out some +inkling of this, and goes and sets up a fuss! Level's as good a +husband to her as can be, and yet she's not content! Commend me to +foolish women! They are all alike!" + +In his indignation against women in general, Major Carlen rose from +his chair and began striding up and down the room. I was pondering on +what he had said to me. + +"What right have wives to rake up particulars of their husbands' +private affairs?" he demanded fiercely. "If Level does go off to +Marshdale for a few days' sojourn now and again, is it any business of +Blanche's what he goes for, or what he does there, or whom he sees? +Suppose he chose to maintain a whole menagerie of--of--Italian monkeys +there, ought Blanche to interfere and make bones over it?" + +"But----" + +"He does not offend her; he does not allow her to see that anything +exists to offend her: why, then, should she suspect this and suspect +that, and peep and peer after Level as if she were a detective told +off expressly to watch his movements?" continued the angry man. "Only +an ignorant girl would dream of doing it. I am sick of her folly." + +"Well now, Major Carlen, will you listen to me for a moment?" I said, +speaking quietly and calmly as an antidote to his heat. "I don't +believe this. I think you and Blanche are both mistaken." + +He brought himself to an anchor on the hearthrug, and stared at me +under his thick, grizzled eyebrows. "What is it that you don't +believe, Charles?" + +"This that you insinuate about Marshdale. I have faith in Lord Level; +I like Lord Level; and I think you are misjudging him." + +"Oh, indeed!" responded the Major. "I suppose you know what a wild +blade Level always was?" + +"In his early days he may have been. But you may depend upon it that +when he married he left his wild ways behind him." + +"All right, young Charles. And, upon my word, you are pretty near as +young in the world's depths as Blanche herself is," was the Major's +sarcastic remark. "Do you wish to tell me there's nothing up at +Marshdale, with all these mysterious telegrams to Level, and his +scampers back in answer? Come!" + +"I admit that there seems to be some mystery at Marshdale. Something +that we do not understand, and that Lord Level does not intend us to +understand; but I must have further proof before I can believe it is +of any such nature as you hint it, Major. For a long time past, Lord +Level has appeared to me like a man in trouble; as if he had some +anxiety on his mind." + +"Well," acquiesced the Major equably, "and what can trouble a man's +mind more than the exactions of these foreign syrens? Let them be +Italian, or Spanish, or French--what you will--they'll worry your life +out of you in the long-run. What does that Italian girl do at +Marshdale?" + +"I cannot say. For my own part I do not know that one is there. But if +she be, if there be a whole menagerie of Italian ladies there, as you +have just expressed it, Major----" + +"I said a menagerie of monkeys," he growled. + +"Monkeys, then. But whether they be monkeys or whether they be ladies, +I feel convinced that Lord Level is acting no unworthy part--that he +is loyal to his wife." + +"You had better tell her so," nodded the Major; "perhaps she'll +believe you. I told her the opposite. I told her that when women +marry gay and attractive men, they must look out for squalls, and +learn to shut their eyes a bit in going through life. I bade her +bottle up her fancies, and let Marshdale and her husband alone, and +not show herself a simpleton before the public." + +"What did she say to that?" + +"Say? It was that piece of advice which raised the storm. She burst +out of the room like a maniac, declaring she wouldn't remain in it to +listen to me. The next thing was, I heard the street-door bang, and +saw my lady go out, putting on her gloves as she went. You came up two +minutes afterwards." + +I was buried in thought again. He stood staring at me, as if I had no +business to have any thought. + +"Look here, Major: one thing strikes me forcibly: the very fact of +Lord Level allowing these telegrams to come to him openly is enough to +prove that matters are not as you and Blanche suspect. If----" + +"How can a telegram come secretly?" interrupted the Major. + +"He would take care that they did not come at all--to his house." + +"Oh, would he?" cried the old reprobate. "I should like to know how he +could hinder it if any she-fiend chooses to send them." + +"Rely upon it he would hinder it. Level is not one to be coerced +against his will by either man or woman. Have you any idea how long +Blanche will remain out?" + +"Just as much as you have, Charley. She may remain away till night, +for all I know." + +It was of no use, then, my staying longer; and time, that day, was +almost as precious to me as gold. Major Carlen threw on his cloak, and +we went out together. + +"I should not wonder if my young lady has gone to Seymour Street," +remarked the Major. "The thought has just occurred to me." + +"To your lodgings, you mean?" I asked, thinking it very unlikely. + +"Yes; Mrs. Guy is there. The poor old thing arrived from Jersey on +Saturday. She has come over on her usual errand--to consult the +doctors; grows more ridiculously fanciful as she grows older. You +might just look in upon her now, Charles; it's close by: and then +you'll see whether Blanche is there or not." + +I spared a few minutes for it. Poor Mrs. Guy looked very poorly +indeed; but she was meek and mild as ever, and burst into tears as I +greeted her. Her ailments I promised to go and hear all about another +time. Yes, Blanche was there. When we went in, she was laughing at +something Mrs. Guy had said, and her indignation seemed to have +subsided. + +I could not stay long. Blanche came out with me, thinking I should go +back with her to Gloucester Place. But that was impossible; I had +already wasted more time than I could well spare. Blanche was vexed. + +"My dear, you should not have gone out when you were expecting me. +You know how very much I am occupied." + +"Papa vexed me, and drove me to it," she answered. "He said--oh, such +wicked things, that I could not and would not stay to listen. And all +the while I knew it was not that he believed them, but that he wanted +to make excuses for Lord Level." + +I did not contradict her. Let her retain, and she could, some little +veneration for her step-father. + +"Charles, I want to have a long conversation with you, so you must +come to me as soon as you can," she said. "I mean to have a separation +from my husband; perhaps a divorce, and I want you to tell me how I +must proceed in it. I did think of applying to Jennings and Ward, Lord +Level's solicitors, but, perhaps, you will be best." + +I laughed. "You don't suppose, do you, Blanche, that Lord Level's +solicitors would act for you against him." + +"Now, Charles, you are speaking lightly; you are making game of me. +Why do you laugh? I can tell you it is more serious than you may +think for! and I am serious. I have talked of this for a long time, +and now I _will_ act. How shall I begin?" + +"Do not begin at all, Blanche," I said, with earnestness. "_Do +nothing._ Were your father living--were your mother living, they would +both give you this advice--and this is not the first time I have +enjoined it on you. Ah, my dear, you do not know--you little guess +what misery to the wife such a climax as this which you propose would +involve." + +Blanche had turned to the railings round the interior of Portman +Square, and halted there, apparently looking at the shrubs. Her eyes +were full of tears. + +"On the other hand, Charles, you do not know, you cannot guess, what I +have to bear--what a misery it makes of my life." + +"Are you _sure_ of the facts that make the misery?" + +"Why, of course I am." + +"I think not, Blanche. I think you are mistaken." + +She turned to me in surprise. "But I _can't_ be mistaken," she said. +"How can I be? If Lord Level does not go to Marshdale to--to--to see +people, what does he go for?" + +"He may go for something quite different. My dear, I have more +confidence in your husband than you have, and I think you are wrong. I +must be off; I've not another moment; but these are my last words to +you, Blanche.--Take no action. Be still. _Do nothing._" + +By half-past four o'clock, the most pressing of my work was over for +the day, and then I took a cab to Lincoln's Inn to see Mr. Serjeant +Stillingfar. He had often said to me, good old uncle that he was: +"Come to me always, Charles, when you are in any legal doubt or +difficulty, or deem that my opinion may be of use to you." I was in +one of those difficulties now. Some remarkably troublesome business +had been laid before me by a client; I could not see my way in it at +all, and was taking it to Serjeant Stillingfar. + +The old chambers were just as they used to be; as they were on the day +which the reader has heard of, when I saw them for the first time. +Running up the stairs, there sat a clerk at the desk in the narrow +room, where young Lake, full of impudence, had sat that day, Mr. +Jones's empty place beside it now, as it was then. + +"Is the Serjeant in?" I asked the clerk. + +"No, sir; he's not out of Court yet. Mr. Jones is in." + +I went on to the inner room. Old Jones, the Serjeant's own especial +clerk, was writing at his little desk in the corner. Nothing was +changed; not even old Jones himself. He was not, to appearance, a day +older, and not an ounce bigger. Lake used to tell him he would make +his fortune if he went about the country in a caravan and called +himself a consumptive lamp-post. + +"My uncle is not back from Court, Graham says," I observed to the +clerk, after shaking hands. + +"Not yet," he answered. "I don't think he'll be long. Sit down, Mr. +Strange." + +I took the chair I had taken that first day years ago, and waited. Mr. +Jones finished the writing he was about, arranged his papers, and then +came and stood with his back to the fire, having kept his quill in his +hand. It must be a very hot day indeed which did not see a fire in +that grate. + +"If the Serjeant is not back speedily, I think I must open my business +to you, and get your opinion, Mr. Jones," I said. "I dare say you +could give me one as well as he." + +"Some complicated case that you can't quite manage?" he rejoined. + +"It's the most complicated, exasperating case I nearly ever had +brought to me," I answered. "I think it is a matter more for a +detective officer to deal with than a solicitor. If Serjeant +Stillingfar says the same, I shall throw it up." + +"Curious things, some of those detective cases," remarked Mr. Jones, +gently waving his pen. + +"They are. I wouldn't have to deal with them, _as_ a detective, for +the world. Shall I relate this case to you?" + +He took out his watch and looked at it. "Better wait a bit longer, Mr. +Charles. I expect the Serjeant every minute now." + +"Don't you wonder that my uncle continues to work?" I cried presently. +"He is old now. _I_ should retire." + +"He is sixty-five. If you were not young yourself, you would not call +that old." + +"Old enough, I should say, for work to be a labour to him." + +"A labour that he loves, and that he is as capable of performing as he +was twenty years ago," returned old Jones. "No, Mr. Charles, I do not +wonder that he should continue to work." + +"Did you know that he had been offered a judgeship?" + +Old Jones laughed a little. I thought it was as much as to say there +was little which concerned the Serjeant that he did not know. + +"He has been offered a judgeship more than once--had it pressed upon +him, Mr. Charles. The last time was when Mr. Baron Charlton died." + +"Why! that is only a month or two ago!" + +"Just about nine weeks, I fancy." + +"And he declined it?" + +"He declines them all." + +"But what can be his motive? It would give him more rest than he +enjoys now----" + +"I don't altogether know that," interrupted the clerk. "The judges are +very much over-worked now. It would increase his responsibility; and +he is one to feel that, perhaps painfully." + +"You mean when he had to pass the dread sentence of death. A new judge +must always feel that at the beginning." + +"I heard one of our present judges say--it was in this room, too, Mr. +Charles--that the first time he put on the black cap he never closed +his eyes the whole night after it. All the Bench are not so sensitive +as that, you know." + +A thought suddenly struck me. "Surely," I cried, "you do not mean that +_that_ is the reason for my uncle's refusing a seat on the Bench!" + +"Not at all. He'd get over that in time, as others do. Oh no! that has +nothing to do with it." + +"Then I really cannot see what can have to do with it. It would give +him a degree of rest; yes, it would; and it would give him rank and +position." + +"But it would take from him half his income. Yes, just about half, I +reckon," repeated Mr. Jones, attentively regarding the feather of the +pen. + +"What of that? He must be putting by heaps and heaps of money--and he +has neither wife nor child to put by for." + +"Ah!" said the clerk, "that is just how we all are apt to judge of a +neighbour's business. Would it surprise you very much, sir, if I told +you that the Serjeant is _not_ putting by?" + +"But he must be putting by. Or what becomes of his money?" + +"He spends it, Mr. Charles." + +"_Spends it!_ Upon what?" + +"Upon other people." + +Mr. Jones looked at me from across the hearthrug, and I looked at him. +The assertion puzzled me. + +"It's true," he said with a nod. "You have not forgotten that great +calamity which happened some ten or twelve years ago, Mr. Charles? +That bank which went to pieces, and broke up homes and hearts? _Your_ +money went in it." + +As if I could forget that! + +"The Serjeant's money, all he had then saved, went in it," continued +the clerk. "Mortifying enough, of course, but he was in the full swing +of his prosperity, and could soon have replaced it. What he could not +so easily replace, Mr. Charles, was the money he had been the means +of placing in the bank belonging to other people, and which was lost. +He had done it for the best. He held the bank to be thoroughly sound +and prosperous; he could not have had more confidence in his own +integrity than he had in that bank; and he had counselled friends and +others whom he knew, who were not as well off as he was, to invest all +they could spare in it, believing he was doing them a kindness. +Instead of that, it ruined them." + +I thought I saw what the clerk was coming to. After a pause, he went +on: + +"It is these people that he has been working for, Mr. Charles. Some of +them he has entirely repaid--the money, you know, which he caused them +to lose. He considered it his duty to recompense them, so far as he +could; and to keep them, where they needed to be kept, until he had +effected that. For those who were better off and did not need present +help, he put money by as he could spare it, investing it in the funds +in their name: I dare say your name is amongst them. That's what Mr. +Serjeant Stillingfar does with his income, and that's why he keeps on +working." + +I had never suspected this. + +"I believe it is almost accomplished now," said the clerk. "So nearly +that I thought he might, perhaps, have taken the judgeship on this +last occasion. But he did not. 'Just a few months longer in harness, +Jones,' he said to me, 'and then----?' So I reckon that we shall yet +see him on the Bench, Mr. Charles." + +"He must be very good." + +"Good!" echoed old Jones, with emotion; "he is made of goodness. There +are few people like him. He would help the whole world if he could. I +don't believe there's any man who has ever done a single service for +him of the most trifling nature but he would wish to place beyond the +reach of poverty. 'I've put a trifle by for you, Jones,' he said to me +the other day, 'in case you might be at a loss for another such place +as this when my time's over.' And when I tried to thank him----" + +Mr. Jones broke down. Bringing the quill pen under his eyes, as if he +suddenly caught sight of a flaw thereon, I saw a drop of water fall on +to it. + +"Yes, Mr. Charles, he said that to me. It has taken a load from my +mind. When a man is on the downhill of life and is not sure of his +future, he can't help being anxious. The Serjeant has paid me a +liberal salary, as you may well guess, but he knows that it has not +been in my power to put by a fraction of it. 'You are too generous +with your money, Serjeant,' I said to him one day, a good while ago. +'Ah no, Jones, not at all,' he answered. 'God has prospered me so +marvellously in these later years, what can I do but strive to prosper +others?' Those were his very words." + +And with these last words of Jones's our conference came to an end. +The door was abruptly thrown open by Graham to admit the Serjeant. Mr. +Jones helped him off with his wig and gown, and handed him the little +flaxen top that he wore when not on duty. Then Jones, leaving the room +for a few moments, came back with a glass of milk, which he handed to +his master. + +"Would not a glass of wine do you more good, uncle?" I asked. + +"No, lad; not so much. A glass of milk after a hard day's work in +Court refreshes me. I never touch wine except at a dinner. I take a +little then; not much." + +Sitting down together when Mr. Jones had again left us, I opened my +business to the Serjeant as concisely as possible. He listened +attentively, but made no remark until the end. + +"Now go over it all again, Charles." I did so: and this second time I +was repeatedly interrupted by remarks or questions. After that we +discussed the case. + +"I cannot see any reason why you should not take up the matter," he +said, when he had given it a little silent consideration. "I do not +look upon it quite as you do; I think you have formed a wrong +judgment. It is intricate at present; I grant you that; but if you +proceed in the manner I have suggested, you will unravel it." + +"Thank you, Uncle Stillingfar. I can never thank you enough for all +your kindness to me." + +"Were you so full of anxiety over this case?" he asked, as we were +shaking hands, and I was about to leave. "You look as though you had a +weight of it on your brow." + +"And so I have, uncle; but not about this case. Something nearer +home." + +"What _is_ it?" he returned, looking at me. + +"It is---- Perhaps I had better not tell it you." + +"I understand," he slowly said. "Tom Heriot, I suppose. Why does he +not get away?" + +"He is too ill for that at present: confined to his room and his bed. +Of course, he does not run quite so great a risk as he did when he +persisted in parading the streets, but danger is always imminent." + +"He ought to end the danger by getting away. Very ill, is he?" + +"So ill that I think danger will soon be all at an end in another way; +it certainly will be unless he rallies." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +"I cannot help fearing that consumption has set in." + +"Poor fellow! Oh, Charles, how that fine young man has spoilt his +life! Consumption?--Wait a bit--let me think," broke off the Serjeant. +"Why, yes, I remember now; it was consumption that Colonel Heriot's +first wife died of--Tom's mother." + +"Tom said so the last time I saw him." + +"Ah. He knows it, then. Better not see him too often, Charles. You are +running a risk yourself, as you must be aware." + +"Yes; I know I am. It is altogether a trial. Good-day, uncle." + +I shook hands with Jones as I passed through his room, and ran down +the stairs, feeling all the better for my interview with him and with +his patron, Mr. Serjeant Stillingfar. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +AN ACCIDENT. + + +The drawing-room floor at Lennard's made very comfortable quarters for +Tom Heriot, and his removal from the room in Southwark had been +accomplished without difficulty. Mrs. Lennard, a patient, mild, weak +woman, who could never have been strong-minded, made him an excellent +nurse, her more practical and very capable daughter, Charlotte, aiding +her when necessary. + +A safer refuge could not have been found in London. The Lennards were +so often under a cloud themselves as regarded pecuniary matters, so +beset at times by their unwelcome creditors--the butcher, baker and +grocer--that the chain of their front door was kept habitually +fastened, and no one was admitted within its portals without being +first of all subjected to a comprehensive survey. Had some kind friend +made a rush to the perambulating policeman of the district, to inform +him that the domicile of those Lennards was again in a state of siege, +he would simply have speculated upon whether the enemy was this time +the landlord or the Queen's taxes. It chanced to be neither; but it +was well for the besieged to favour the impression that it was one or +the other, or both. Policemen do not wage war with unfortunate +debtors, and Mr. Lennard's house was as safe as a remote castle. + +"Mr. Brown" Tom was called there; none of the household, with the +exception of its master, having any idea that it was not his true +name. "One of the gentlemen clerks in Essex Street, who has no home in +London; I have undertaken to receive him while he is ill," Mr. +Lennard had carelessly remarked to his wife and daughters before +introducing Tom. They had unsuspecting minds, except as regarded their +own creditors, those ladies--ladies always, though fallen from their +former state--and never thought to question the statement, or to be at +all surprised that Mr. Strange himself took an interest in his clerk's +illness, and paid an evening visit to him now and then. The doctor who +was called in, a hard-worked practitioner named Purfleet, did his best +for "Mr. Brown," but had no time to spare for curiosity about him in +any other way, or to give so much as a thought to his antecedents. + +And just at first, after being settled at Lennard's, Tom Heriot seemed +to be taking a turn for the better. The warmth of the comfortable +rooms, the care given to him, the strengthening diet, and perhaps a +feeling that he was in a safer asylum than he had yet found, all had +their effect upon him for good. + + * * * * * + +"Hatch!" called out Mrs. Brightman. + +Hatch ran in from the next room. "Yes, ma'am." + +"Let Perry go and tell the gardener to cut some of his best grapes, +white and purple, and do you arrange them in a basket. I shall go up +to Essex Street and see my daughter this afternoon, and will take them +to her. Order the carriage for half-past two o'clock." + +"Miss Annabel will be finely pleased to see you, ma'am!" remarked +Hatch. + +"Possibly so. But she is no longer Miss Annabel. Go and see about the +grapes." + +When Mrs. Brightman's tones were cold and haughty, and they sounded +especially so just now, she brooked no dilatoriness in those who had +to obey her behests. Hatch turned away immediately, and went along +talking to herself. + +"She's getting cross and restless again. I'm certain of it. In a +week's time from this we shall have her as bad as before. And for ever +so many weeks now she has been as cautious and sober as a judge! Hang +the drink, then! Doctors may well call it a disease when it comes to +this stage with people. Here--I say, Perry!" + +The butler, passing along the hall, heard Hatch's call, and stopped. +She gave her cap-strings a fling backwards as she advanced to him. + +"You are to go and tell Church to cut a basket of grapes, and to mix +'em, white and black. The very best and ripest that is in the +greenhouse; they be for Miss Annabel." + +"All right, I'll go at once," answered Perry. "But you need not snap a +man's nose off, Hatch, or look as if you were going to eat him. What +has put you out?" + +"Enough has put me out; and you might know that, old Perry, if you had +any sense," retorted Hatch. "When do I snap people's noses off--which +it's my tone, I take it, that you mean--except I'm that bothered and +worried I can't speak sweet?" + +"Well, what's amiss?" asked Perry. + +They were standing close together, and Hatch lowered her voice to a +whisper. "The missis is going off again; I be certain sure on't." + +"_No!_" cried Perry, full of dismay. "But, look here, Hatch"--suddenly +diving into one of his jackets--"she can't have done it; here's the +cellar-key. I can be upon my word that there's not a drain of anything +out." + +"You always did have the brains of a turkey, you know, Perry," was +Hatch's gracious rejoinder; "and I'm tired of reminding you of it. Who +said missis had took anything? Not me. She haven't--yet. As you +observe, there's nothing up for her to take. But she'll be ordering +you to bring something up before to-morrow's over; perhaps before +to-day is." + +"Dear, dear!" lamented the faithful servant. "Don't you think you may +be mistaken, Hatch? What do you judge by?" + +"I judge by herself. I've not lived with my missis all these years +without learning to notice signs and tokens. Her manner to-day and +her restlessness is just as plain as the sun in the sky. I know what +it means, and you'll know it too, as soon as she gives you her orders +to unlock the cellar." + +"Can nothing be done?" cried the unhappy Perry. "Could I _lose_ the +key of the cellar, do you think, Hatch? Would that be of any good?" + +"It would hold good just as long as you'd be in getting a hammer and +poker to break it open with; you've not got to deal with a pack of +schoolboys that's under control," was Hatch's sarcastic reproof. "But +I think there's one thing we might try, Perry, and that is, run round +to Mr. Close and tell him about it. Perhaps he could give her +something to stop the craving." + +"I'll go," said Perry. "I'll slip round when I've told Church about +the grapes." + +"And the carriage is ordered early--half-past two; so mind you are in +readiness," concluded Hatch. + +Perry went to the surgeon's, after delivering his orders to the +gardener. But Mr. Close was not at home, and the man came away again +without leaving any message; he did not choose to enter upon the +subject with Mr. Dunn, the assistant. The latter inquired who was ill, +and Perry replied that nobody was; he had only come to speak a private +word to Mr. Close, which could wait. In point of fact, he meant to +call later. + +But the curiosity of Mr. Dunn, who was a very inquisitive young man, +fonder of attending to other people's business than of doing his own, +had been aroused by this. He considered Perry's manner rather +mysterious, as well as the suppression of the message, and he enlarged +upon the account to Mr. Close when he came in. Mr. Close made no +particular rejoinder; but in his own mind he felt little doubt that +Mrs. Brightman was breaking out again, and determined to go and see +her when he had had his dinner. + +Perry returned home, and waited on his mistress at luncheon, quaking +inwardly all the time, as he subsequently confessed to Hatch, lest +she should ask him for something that was not upon the table. However, +she did not do so; but she was very restless, as Perry observed; ate +little, drank no water, and told Perry to bring her a cup of coffee. + +At half-past two the carriage stood at the gate, the silver on the +horses' harness glittering in the sun. Quickly enough appeared the +procession from the house. Mrs. Brightman, upright and impassive, +walking with stately step; Hatch, a shawl or two upon her arm, holding +an umbrella over her mistress to shade her from the sun; Perry in the +background, carrying the basket of grapes. Perry would attend his +mistress in her drive, as usual, but not Hatch. + +The servants were placing the shawls and the grapes in the carriage, +and Mrs. Brightman, who hated anything to be done after she had taken +her seat, was waiting to enter it, when Mr. Close, the surgeon, came +bustling up. + +"Going for a drive this fine day!" he exclaimed, as he shook hands +with Mrs. Brightman. "I'm glad of that. I had been thinking that +perhaps you were not well." + +"Why should you think so?" asked she. + +"Well, Perry was round at my place this morning, and left a message +that he wanted to see me. I----" + +Mr. Close suppressed the remainder of his speech as his gaze suddenly +fell on Perry's startled face. The man had turned from the carriage, +and was looking at him in helpless, beseeching terror. A faithful +retainer was Perry, an honest butler; but at a pinch his brains were +no better than what Hatch had compared them with--those of a turkey. + +Mrs. Brightman, her countenance taking its very haughtiest expression, +gazed first at the doctor, then at Perry, as if demanding what this +might mean; possibly, poor lady, she had a suspicion of it. But Hatch, +ready Hatch, was equal to the occasion: _she_ never lost her presence +of mind. + +"I told Perry he might just as well have asked young Mr. Dunn for 'em, +when he came back without the drops," said she, facing the surgeon and +speaking carelessly. "Your not being in didn't matter. It was some +cough-drops I sent him for; the same as those you've let us have +before, Mr. Close. Our cook's cough is that bad, she can't sleep at +night, nor let anybody else sleep that's within earshot of her room." + +"Well, I came round in a hurry, thinking some of you might be +suffering from this complaint that's going about," said Mr. Close, +taking up the clue in an easy manner. + +"That there spasadic cholera," assented Hatch. + +"Cholera! It's not cholera. There's nothing of that sort about," said +the surgeon. "But there's a good bit of influenza; I have half a dozen +patients suffering from it. A spell of bright weather such as this, +though, will soon drive it away. And I'll send you some of the drops +when I get back, Hatch." + +Mrs. Brightman advanced to the carriage; the surgeon was at hand to +assist her in. Perry stood on the other side his mistress. Hatch had +retreated to the gate and was looking on. + +Suddenly a yell, as of something unearthly, startled their ears. A +fierce-looking bull, frightened probably by the passers-by on the +road, and the prods given to it by the formidable stick of its driver, +had dashed behind the carriage on to the foot-path, and set up that +terrible roar. Mr. Close looked round, Perry did the same; whilst Mrs. +Brightman, who was in the very act of getting into her carriage, and +whose nerves were more sensitive than theirs, turned sharply round +also and screamed. + +Again Hatch came to the rescue. She had closed the umbrella and lodged +it against the pillar of the gate, for here they were under the shade +of trees. Seizing the umbrella now, she opened it with a great dash +and noise, and rushed towards the bull, pointing it menacingly. The +animal, no doubt more startled than they were, tore away and gained +the highroad again. Then everyone had leisure to see that Mrs. +Brightman was lying on the ground partly under the carriage. + +She must have fallen in turning round, partly from fright, partly from +the moving of the carriage. The horses had also been somewhat startled +by the bull's noise, and one of them began to prance. The coachman had +his horses well in hand, and soon quieted them; but he had not been +able to prevent the movement, which had no doubt chiefly caused his +mistress to fall. + +They quickly drew her from under the carriage and attempted to raise +her; but she cried out with such tones of agony that the surgeon +feared she was seriously injured. As soon as possible she was conveyed +indoors on a mattress. Another surgeon joined Mr. Close, and it was +found that her leg was broken near the ankle. + +When it had been set and the commotion was subsiding, Perry was +despatched to Essex Street with the carriage and the bad news--the +carriage to bring back Annabel. + +"What was it you really came to my surgery for, Perry?" Mr. Close took +an opportunity of asking him before he started. + +"It was about my mistress, sir," answered the man. "Hatch felt quite +sure, by signs and tokens, that Mrs. Brightman was going to--to--be +ill again. She sent me to tell you, sir, and to ask if you couldn't +give her something to stop it." + +"Ah, I thought as much. But when I saw you all out there, your +mistress looking well and about to take a drive, I concluded I had +been mistaken," said the surgeon. + + * * * * * + +I had run upstairs during the afternoon to ask a question of Annabel, +and was standing beside her at the drawing-room window, where she sat +at work, when a carriage came swiftly down the street, and stopped at +the door. + +"Why, it is mamma's!" exclaimed Annabel, looking out. + +"But I don't see her in it," I rejoined. + +"Oh, she must be in it, Charles. Perry is on the box." + +Perry was getting down, but was not quite so quick in his movements as +a slim young footman would be. He rang the door-bell, and I was +fetched down to him. In two minutes afterwards I had disclosed the +news to my wife, and brought Perry upstairs that she might herself +question him. The tears were coursing down her cheeks. + +"Don't take on, Miss Annabel," said the man, feeling quite too much +lost in the bad tidings to remember Annabel's new title. "There's not +the least bit of danger, ma'am; Mr. Close bade me say it; all is sure +to go on well." + +"Did you bring the carriage for me, Perry?" + +"Yes, ma'am, I did. And it was my mistress herself thought of it. When +Mr. Close, or Hatch--one of 'em it was, I don't know which--told her +they were going to send me for you, she said, 'Let Perry take the +carriage.' Oh, ma'am, indeed she is fully as well as she could be: it +was only at first that she seemed faintish like." + +Annabel went back in the carriage at once. I promised to follow her as +early in the evening as I could get away. Relying upon the butler's +assurance that Mrs. Brightman was not in the slightest danger; that, +on the contrary, it would be an illness of weeks, if not of months, +there was no necessity for accompanying Annabel at an inconvenient +moment. + +"It is, in one sense, the luckiest thing that could have happened to +her," Mr. Close remarked to me that evening when we were conversing +together. + +"Lucky! How do you mean?" + +"Well, she _must_ be under our control now," he answered in +significant tones, "and we were fearing, only to-day, that she was on +the point of breaking out again. A long spell of enforced abstinence, +such as this, may effect wonders." + +Of course, looking at it in that light, the accident might be called +fortunate. "There's a silver lining to every cloud." + +Annabel took up her abode temporarily at her mother's: Mrs. Brightman +requested it. I went down there of an evening--though not every +evening--returning to Essex Street in the morning. Tom's increasing +illness kept me in town occasionally, for I could not help going to +see him, and he was growing weaker day by day. The closing features of +consumption were gaining upon him rapidly. To add to our difficulties, +Mr. Policeman Wren, who seemed to follow Tom's changes of domicile in +a very ominous and remarkable manner, had now transferred his beat +from Southwark, and might be seen pacing before Lennard's door ten +times a day. + +One morning when I had come up from Clapham and was seated in my own +room opening letters, Lennard entered. He closed the door with a +quiet, cautious movement, and waited, without speaking. + +"Anything particular, Lennard?" + +"Yes, sir; I've brought rather bad news," he said. "Captain Heriot is +worse." + +"Worse? In what way? But he is not Captain Heriot, Lennard; he is Mr. +Brown. Be careful." + +"We cannot be overheard," he answered, glancing at the closed door. +"He appeared so exceedingly weak last night that I thought I would sit +up with him for an hour or two, and then lie down on his sofa for the +rest of the night. About five o'clock this morning he had a violent +fit of coughing and broke a blood-vessel." + +"What did you do?" + +"I know a little of the treatment necessary in such cases, and we got +the doctor to him as soon as possible. Mr. Purfleet does not give the +slightest hope now. In fact, he thinks that a very few days more will +bring the ending." + +I sat back in my chair. Poor Tom! Poor Tom! + +"It is the best for him, Mr. Charles," spoke Lennard, with some +emotion. "Better, infinitely, than that of which he has been running +the risk. When a man's life is marred as he has marred his, heaven +must seem like a haven of refuge to him." + +"Has he any idea of his critical state?" + +"Yes; and, I feel sure, is quite reconciled to it. He remarked this +morning how much he should like to see Blanche: meaning, I presume, +Lady Level." + +"Ah, but there are difficulties in the way, Lennard. I will come to +him myself, but not until evening. There's no immediate danger, you +tell me, and I do not care to be seen entering your house during the +day while he is in it. The big policeman might be on the watch, and +ask me what I wanted there." + +Lennard left the room and I returned to my letters. The next I took up +was a note from Blanche. Lord Level was not _yet_ back from Marshdale, +she told me in it; he kept writing miserable scraps of notes in which +he put her off with excuses from day to day, always assuring her he +hoped to be up on the morrow. But she could see she was being played +with; and the patience which, in obedience to me and Major Carlen, she +had been exercising, was very nearly exhausted. She wrote this, she +concluded by saying, to warn me that it was so. + +Truth to say, I did wonder what was keeping Level at Marshdale. He had +been there more than a week now. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +LAST DAYS. + + +Tom Heriot lay on his sofa in his bedroom, the firelight flickering on +his faded face. This was Monday, the third day since the attack spoken +of by Lennard, and there had not been any return of it. His voice was +stronger this evening; he seemed better altogether, and was jesting, +as he loved to do. Leah had been to see him during the day, and he was +recounting one or two of their passages-at-arms, with much glee. + +"Charley, old fellow, you look as solemn as a judge." + +Most likely I did. I sat on the other side the hearthrug, gazing as I +listened to him; and I thought I saw in his face the grayness that +frequently precedes death. + +"Did you know that that giant of the force, Wren, had his eye upon me, +Charley?" + +"No! Why do you say so?" + +"Well, I think he has--some suspicion, at any rate. He parades before +the house like a walking apparition. I look at him from behind the +curtains in the other room. He paraded in like manner, you know, +before that house in Southwark and the other one in Lambeth." + +"It may be only a coincidence, Tom. The police are moved about a good +deal from beat to beat, I fancy." + +"Perhaps so," assented Tom carelessly. "If he came in and took me, I +don't think he could do much with me now. He accosted Purfleet +to-day." + +"Accosted Purfleet!" + +Tom nodded. "After his morning visit to me, he went dashing out of the +street-door in his usual quick way, and dashed against Wren. One +might think a regiment of soldiers were always waiting to have their +legs and arms cut off, and that Purfleet had to do it, by the way he +rushes about," concluded Tom. + +"Well?" + +"'In a hurry this morning, doctor,' says old Wren, who is uncommonly +fond of hearing himself talk. 'And who is it that's ill at Mr. +Lennard's?' 'I generally am in a hurry,' says Purfleet, 'and so would +you be if you had as many sick people on your hands. At Lennard's? +Why, that poor suffering daughter of his has had another attack, and I +don't know whether I shall save her.' And, with that, Purfleet got +away. He related this to me when he came in at tea-time." + +A thought struck me. "But, Tom, does Purfleet know that you are in +concealment here? Or why should he have put his visits to you upon +Maria Lennard?" + +"Why, how could he be off knowing it? Lennard asked him at first, as a +matter of precaution, not to speak of me in the neighbourhood. Mr. +Brown was rather under a cloud just now, he said. I wouldn't mind +betting a silver sixpence, Charley, that he knows I am Tom Heriot." + +I wondered whether Tom was joking. + +"Likely enough," went on Tom. "He knows that you come to see me, and +that you are Mr. Strange, of Essex Street. And he has heard, I'll lay, +that Mr. Strange had a wicked sort of half-brother, one Captain +Heriot, who fell into the fetters of the law and escaped them, +and--and may be the very Mr. Brown who's lying ill here. Purfleet can +put two and two together as cleverly as other people, Charles." + +"If so, it is frightfully hazardous----" + +"Not at all," interrupted Tom with equanimity. "He'd no more betray +me, Charley, than he'd betray himself. Doctors don't divulge the +secrets of their patients; they keep them. It is a point of honour in +the medical code: as well as of self-interest. What family would call +in a man who was known to run about saying the Smiths next door had +veal for dinner to-day, and they ought to have had mutton? If no more +harm reaches me than any brought about by Purfleet, I am safe enough." + +It might be as he said. And I saw that he would be incautious to the +end. + +At that moment Mrs. Lennard came in with something in a breakfast-cup. +"You are a good lady," said Tom gratefully. "See how they feed me up, +Charley!" + +But for the hollow tones, the hectic flush and the brilliant eyes, it +might almost have been thought he was getting better. The cough had +nearly left him, and the weakness was not more apparent than it had +been for a week past. But that faint, deep, _far-away_ sounding voice, +which had now come on, told the truth. The close was near at hand. + +After Mrs. Lennard had left the room with the empty cup, Tom lay back +on the sofa, put his head on the pillow, and in a minute or two seemed +to be asleep. Presently I moved gently across the hearthrug to fold +the warm, light quilt upon his knees. He opened his eyes. + +"You need not creep, Charley. I am not asleep. I had a regular good +sleep in the afternoon, and don't feel inclined for it now. I was +thinking about the funeral." + +"The funeral!" I echoed, taken back. "Whose funeral?" + +"Mine. They won't care to lay me by my mother, will they?--I mean my +own mother. The world might put its inquisitive word in, and say that +must be Tom Heriot, the felon. Neither you nor Level would like that, +nor old Carlen either." + +I made no answer, uncertain what to say. + +"Yet I should like to lie by her," he went on. "There was a large +vault made, when she died, to hold the three of us--herself, my father +and me. _They_ are in it; I should like to be placed with them." + +"Time enough to think of that, Tom, when--when--the time comes," I +stammered. + +"The time's not far off now, Charley." + +"Two nights ago, when I was here, you assured me you were getting +better." + +"Well, I thought I might be; there are such ups and downs in a man's +state. He will appear sick unto death to-day, and tomorrow be driving +down to a whitebait dinner at Greenwich. I've changed my opinion, +Charley; I've had my warning." + +"Had your warning! What does that mean?" + +"I should like to see Blanche," he whispered. "Dear little Blanche! +How I used to tease her in our young days, and Leah would box my ears +for it; and I teased you also, Charley. Could you not bring her here, +if Level would let her come?" + +"Tom, I hardly know. For one thing, she has not heard anything of the +past trouble, as you are aware. She thinks you are in India with the +regiment, and calls you a very undutiful brother for not writing to +her. I suppose it might be managed." + +"Dear little Blanche!" he repeated. "Yes, I teased her--and loved her +all the time. Just one visit, Charley. It will be the last until we +meet upon the eternal shores. Try and contrive it." + +I sat thinking how it might be done--the revelation to Blanche, +bringing her to the house, and obtaining the consent of Lord Level; +for I should not care to stir in it without his consent. Tom appeared +to be thinking also, and a silence ensued. It was he who broke it. + +"Charles!" + +"Yes?" + +"Do you ever recall events that passed in our old life at White +Littleham Rectory? do any of them lie in your memory?" + +"I think all of them lie in it," I answered. "My memory is, you know, +a remarkably good one." + +"Ay," said Tom. And then he paused again. "Do you recollect that +especial incident when your father told us of his dream?" he continued +presently. "I picture the scene now; it has been present to my mind +all day. A frosty winter morning, icicles on the trees and frosty +devices on the window-panes. You and I and your father seated round +the breakfast-table; Leah pouring out the coffee and cutting bread and +butter for us. He appeared to be in deep thought, and when I remarked +upon it, and you asked him what he was thinking of, he said his dream. +D'you mind it, lad?" + +"I do. The thing made an impression on me. The scene and what passed +at it are as plain to me now as though it had happened yesterday. +After saying he was thinking of his dream, he added, in a dubious +tone, 'If it _was_ a dream.' Mr. Penthorn came in whilst he was +telling it. + +"He was fast asleep; had gone to bed in the best of health, probably +concocting matter for next Sunday's sermon," resumed Tom, recalling +the facts. "Suddenly, he awoke at the sound of a voice. It was his +late wife's voice; your mother, Charley. He was wide awake on the +instant, and knew the voice for hers; she appeared to be standing at +the bedside." + +"But he did not see her," I put in. + +"No; he never said he saw her," replied Tom Heriot. "But the +impression was upon him that a figure stood there, and that after +speaking it retreated towards the window. He got up and struck a light +and found the room empty, no trace of anyone's having been in it. +Nevertheless he could not get rid of the belief, though not a +superstitious man, that it was his wife who came to him." + +"In the spirit." + +"In the spirit, of course. He knew her voice perfectly, he said. Mr. +Penthorn rather ridiculed the matter; saying it was nothing but a +vivid dream. I don't think it made much impression upon your father, +except that it puzzled him." + +"I don't think it did," I assented, my thoughts all in the past. "As +you observe, Tom, he was not superstitious; he had no particular +belief in the supernatural." + +"No; it faded from all our minds with the day--Leah's perhaps +excepted. But what was the result? On the fourth night afterwards he +died. The dream occurred on the Friday morning a little before three +o'clock; your father looked at his watch when he got out of bed and +saw that it wanted a quarter to three. On Tuesday morning at a quarter +to three he died in his study, into which he had been carried after +his accident." + +All true. The circumstances, to me, were painful even now. + +"Well, what do you make of it, Charles?" + +"Nothing. But I don't quite understand your question." + +"Do you think his wife really came to him?--That she was permitted to +come back to earth to warn him of his approaching death?" + +"I have always believed that. I can hardly see how anyone could doubt +it." + +"Well, Charley, I did. I was a graceless, light-headed young wight, +you know, and serious things made no impression on me. If I thought +about it at all, it was to put it down to fancy; or a dream, as Mr. +Penthorn said; and I don't believe I've ever had the thing in my mind +from that time to this." + +"And why should it come back to you now?" I asked. + +"Because," answered Tom, "I think I have had a similar warning." + +He spoke very calmly. I looked at him. He was sitting upright on the +sofa now, his feet stretched out on a warm wool footstool, the quilt +lying across his knees, and his hands resting upon it. + +"What can you mean, Tom?" + +"It was last night," he answered; "or, rather, this morning. I was in +bed, and pretty soundly asleep, for me, and I began to dream. I +thought I saw my father come in through the door, that one opening to +the passage, cross the room and sit down by the bedside with his face +turned to me. I mean my own father, Colonel Heriot. He looked just as +he used to look; not a day older; his fine figure erect, his bright, +wavy hair brushed off his brow as he always wore it, his blue eyes +smiling and kindly. I was not in the least surprised to see him; his +coming in seemed to be quite a matter of course. 'Well, Thomas,' he +began, looking at me after he had sat down; 'we have been parted for +some time, and I have much to say to you.' 'Say it now, papa,' I +answered, going back in my dream to the language of childhood's days. +'There's not time now,' he replied; 'we must wait a little yet; it +won't be long, Thomas.' Then I saw him rise from the chair, re-cross +the room to the door, turn to look at me with a smile, and go out, +leaving the door open. I awoke in a moment; at the very moment, I am +certain; and for some little time I could not persuade myself that +what had passed was not reality. The chair in which he had sat stood +at the bedside, and the door was wide open." + +"But I suppose the chair had been there all night, and that someone +was sitting up with you? Whoever it was must have opened the door." + +"The chair had been there all night," assented Tom. "But the door had +_not_ been opened by human hands, so far as I can learn. It was old +Faith's turn to sit up last night--that worthy old soul of a servant +who has clung to the Lennards through all their misfortunes. Finding +that I slept comfortably, Faith had fallen asleep too in the big chair +in that corner behind you. She declared that the door had been firmly +shut--and I believe she thought it was I who had got up and opened +it." + +"It was a dream, Tom." + +"Granted. But it was a warning. It came--nay, who can say it was not +_he_ who came?--to show me that I shall soon be with him. We shall +have time, and to spare, to talk then. I have never had so vivid a +dream in my life; or one that so left behind it the impression that it +had been reality." + +"Well----" + +"Look here," he interrupted. "Your father said, if you remember, that +the visit paid to him, whether real or imaginary, by his wife, and the +words she spoke, had revived within him his recollections of her +voice, which had in a slight degree begun to fade. Well, Charles, I +give you my word that I had partly forgotten my father's appearance; I +was only a little fellow when he died; but his visit to me in my dream +last night has brought it back most vividly. Come, you wise old +lawyer, what do you say to that?" + +"I don't know, Tom. Such things _are_, I suppose." + +"If I got well and lived to be a hundred years old, I should never +laugh at them again." + +"Did you tell Leah this when she was here to-day?" + +"Ay; and of course she burst out crying. 'Take it as it's meant, +Master Tom,' said she, 'and prepare yourself. It is your warning.' +Just as she had told your father, Charles, that that other was _his_ +warning. She was right then; she is right now." + +"You cannot know it. And you must not let this trouble you." + +"It does not trouble me," he answered quickly. "Rather the contrary, +for it sets my mind at rest. I have had little hope of myself for some +time past; I have had none, so to say, since that sudden attack a few +nights ago; nevertheless, I won't say but a grain of it may have still +deluded me now and again. Hope is the last thing we part with in this +world, you know, lad. But this dream-visit of my father has shown me +the truth beyond all doubt; and now I have only to make my packet, as +the French say, and wait for the signal to start." + +We talked together a little longer, but my time was up. I left him for +the night and apparently in the best of spirits. + +Lennard was alone in his parlour when I got downstairs. I asked him +whether he had heard of this fancy of Tom's about the dream. + +"Yes," he answered. "He told me about it this evening, when I was +sitting with him after tea; but he did not seem at all depressed by +it. I don't think it matters much either way," added Lennard +thoughtfully, "for the end cannot be far off now." + +"He has an idea that Purfleet guesses who he really is." + +"But he has no grounds for saying it," returned Lennard. "Purfleet +heard when he was first called in that 'Mr. Brown' wished to be kept +_en cachette_, if I may so put it; but that he should guess him to be +Captain Heriot is quite improbable. Because Captain Heriot is aware of +his own identity, he assumes that other people must needs be aware of +it." + +"One might trust Purfleet not to betray him, I fancy, if he does guess +it?" + +"That I am sure of," said Lennard warmly. "He is kind and benevolent. +Most medical men are so from their frequent contact with the dark +shades of life, whether of sickness or of sorrow. As to Purfleet, he +is too hard-worked, poor man, to have much leisure for speculating +upon the affairs of other people." + +"Wren is still walking about here." + +"Yes; but I think he has been put upon this beat in the ordinary way +of things, not that he is looking after anyone in particular. Mr. +Strange, if he had any suspicion of Captain Heriot in Lambeth, he +would have taken him; he would have taken him again when in Southwark; +and he would, ere this, have taken him here. Wren appears to be one of +those gossiping men who must talk to everybody; and I believe that is +all the mystery." + +Wishing Lennard good-night, I went home to Essex Street, and sat down +to write to Lord Level. He would not receive the letter at Marshdale +until the following afternoon, but it would be in time for him to +answer me by the evening post. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +LAST WORDS. + + +The next day, Tuesday, I was very busy, hurrying forward to get down +to Clapham in time for dinner in the evening. Lennard's report in the +morning had been that Captain Heriot was no worse, and that Mr. +Purfleet, who had paid him an early visit, said there might be no +change for a week or more. + +In the afternoon I received a brief note from Mr. Serjeant +Stillingfar, asking me to be in Russell Square the following morning +by eight o'clock: he wished to see me very particularly. + +Knowing that when he named any special hour he meant it, and that he +expected everyone who had dealings with him to be as punctual as +himself, I came up to town on the Wednesday morning, and was at his +house a few minutes before eight o'clock. The Serjeant was just +sitting down to breakfast. + +"Will you take some, Charles?" he asked. + +"No, thank you, uncle. I have just come up from Clapham, and +breakfasted before starting." + +"How is Mrs. Brightman going on?" + +"Quite well. It will be a long job, the doctors say, from something +unusual connected with the fracture, but nothing dangerous." + +"Sit down, Charles," he said. "And tell me at once. Is Captain +Heriot," lowering his voice, "in a state to be got away?" + +The words did not surprise me. The whole night it had been in my mind +that the Serjeant's mandate concerned Tom Heriot. + +"No; it would be impossible," I answered. "He has to be moved gently, +from bed to sofa, and can only walk, if he attempts it at all, by +being helped on both sides. Three or four days ago, a vessel on the +lungs broke; any undue exertion would at once be fatal." + +"Then, do I understand you that he is actually dying?" + +"Undoubtedly he is, sir. I was with him on Monday night, and saw in +his face the gray hue which is the precursor of death. I am sure I was +not mistaken----" + +"That peculiar hue can never be mistaken by those who have learnt from +sad experience," he interrupted dreamily. + +"He may linger on a few days, even a week or so, I believe the doctor +thinks, but death is certainly on its road; and he must die where he +is, Uncle Stillingfar. He cannot be again moved." + +The Serjeant sat silent for a few moments. "It is very unfortunate, +Charles," he resumed. "Could he have been got away it would be better +for him, better for you all. Though, in truth, it is not I who ought +to suggest it, as you well know; but sometimes one's private and +public duties oppose each other." + +"Have you heard anything, uncle?" + +"I have heard from a sure source that the authorities know that +Captain Heriot is in London. They know it positively: but not, I +think, where he is concealed. The search for him will now commence in +earnest." + +"It is, indeed, unfortunate. I have been hoping he would be left to +die in peace. One thing is certain: if the police find him they can +only let him remain where he is. They cannot remove him." + +"Then nothing can be done: things must take their course," sighed the +Serjeant. "You must take precautions yourself, Charles. Most probably +the movements of those connected with him will now be watched, in the +hope that they may afford a clue to his hiding-place." + +"I cannot abandon him, Uncle Stillingfar. I must see him to the end. +We have been as brothers, you know. He wants to see Blanche, and I +have written about it to Lord Level." + +"Well, well, I cannot advise; I wish I could," he replied. "But I +thought it my duty to let you know this." + +"A few days will, in any case, see the ending," I whispered as I bade +him goodbye. "Thank you for all your sympathy, uncle." + +"My boy, there is One above," raising his hand reverently, "who has +more pity for us than we have for one another. He can keep him in +peace yet. Don't forget that, Charles." + +To my office, then, and the morning letters. Amidst them lay Lord +Level's answer. Some of its contents surprised me. + + "Marshdale House, + + "Tuesday Evening. + + "DEAR CHARLES, + + "If you like to undertake the arrangement of the visit you + propose, do so. I have no objection. For some little time now + I have thought that it might be better that my wife should know + the truth. You see she is, and has been, liable to hear it at + any moment through some untoward revelation, for which she + would not be prepared; and the care I have taken to avoid this + has not only been sometimes inconvenient to myself, but + misconstrued by Blanche. When we were moving about after our + marriage, I kept her in unfrequented places, as far as I could, + to spare her the chance of this; men's lips were full of it + just then, as you know. Blanche resented that bitterly, putting + it all down to some curious purposes of my own. Let her hear + the truth now. I am not on the spot to impart it to her myself, + and shall be glad if you will do so. Afterwards you can take + her to see the invalid. I am sorry for what you say of his + state. Tell him so: and that he has my sympathy and best + wishes. + + "Blanche has been favouring me lately with some letters written + in anything but a complimentary strain. One that I received + this morning coolly informs me that she is about to 'Take + immediate steps to obtain a formal separation, if not a + divorce.' I am not able to travel to London and settle things + with her, and have written to her to tell her to come here to + me. The fact is, I am ill. Strange to say, the same sort of low + fever which attacked me when I was at Marshdale last autumn has + returned upon me now. It is not as bad as it was then, but I am + confined to bed. Spare the time to bring Blanche down, there's + a good fellow. I have told her that you will do so. Come on + Thursday if convenient to you, and remain the night. She shall + hear what I have to say to her; after that, she can talk of a + separation if she likes. You shall hear it also. + + "Ever truly yours, + + "LEVEL." + +Whilst deliberating upon the contents of this letter, and how I could +best carry out its requests, Lennard came in, as usual on his arrival +for the day, to give me his report of Tom Heriot. There was not any +apparent change in him, he said, either for the better or the worse. I +informed Lennard of what I had just heard from the Serjeant. + +Then I despatched a clerk to Gloucester Place with a note for Blanche, +telling her I should be with her early in the evening, and that she +must not fail to be at home, as my business was important. + +Twilight was falling when I arrived. Blanche sat at one of the windows +in the drawing-room, looking listlessly into the street in the fading +light. Old Mrs. Guy, who was staying with her, was lying on the +dining-room sofa, Blanche said, having retired to it and fallen asleep +after dinner. + +How lovely Blanche looked; but how cross! She wore a pale blue silk, +her favourite colour, with a gold necklace and open bracelets, from +which drooped a heart set with sapphires and diamonds; and her fair, +silken hair looked as if she had been impatiently pushing it about. + +"I know what you have come for, Charles," she said in fretful tones, +as I sat down near her. "Lord Level prepared me in a letter I received +from him this morning." + +"Indeed!" I answered lightly. "What did the preparation consist of?" + +"I wrote to him," said Blanche. "I have written to him more than once, +telling him I am about to get a separation. In answer, my lord +commands me down to Marshdale"--very resentfully--"and says you are to +take me down." + +"All quite right, Blanche; quite true, so far. But----" + +"But I don't know that I shall go. I think I shall not go." + +"A wife should obey her husband's commands." + +"I do not intend to be his wife any longer. And you cannot wish me to +be, Charles; you ought not to wish it. Lord Level's conduct is simply +shameful. What right has he to stay at Marshdale--amusing himself down +there?" + +"I fancy he cannot help staying there at present. Has he told you he +is ill?" + +She glanced quickly round at me. + +"Has he told _you_ that he is so?" + +"Yes, Blanche; he has. He is too ill to travel." + +She paused for a moment, and then tossed back her pretty hair with a +scornful hand. + +"And you believed him! Anything for an excuse. He is no more ill than +I am, Charles; rely upon that." + +"But I am certain----" + +"Don't go on," she interrupted, tapping her dainty black satin slipper +on the carpet; a petulant movement to which Blanche was given, even as +a child. "If you have come for the purpose of whitening my husband to +me, as papa is always doing. I will not listen to you." + +"You will not listen to any sort of reasoning whatever. I see that, my +dear." + +"Reasoning, indeed!" she retorted. "Say sophistry." + +"Listen for an instant, Blanche; consider this one little item: I +believe Lord Level to be ill, confined to his bed with low fever, as +he tells me; you refuse to believe it; you say he is well. Now, +considering that he expects us both to be at Marshdale to-morrow, can +you not perceive how entirely, ridiculously void of purpose it would +be for him to say he is seriously ill if he is not so?" + +"I don't care," said my young lady. "He is deeper than any fox." + +"Blanche, my opinion is, and you are aware of it, that you misjudge +your husband. Upon one or two points I _know_ you do. But I did not +come here to discuss these unpleasant topics--you are in error there, +you see. I came upon a widely different matter: to disclose something +to you that will very greatly distress you, and I am grieved to be +obliged to do it." + +The words changed her mood. She looked half frightened. + +"Oh!" she burst forth, before I had time to say another word. "Is it +my husband? You say he is ill! He is not dead?" + +"My dear, be calm. It is not about your husband at all. It is about +some one else, though, who is very ill--Tom Heriot." + +Grieved she no doubt was; but the relief that crept into her face, +tone and attitude proved that the one man was little to her compared +with the other, and that she loved her husband yet with an impassioned +love. + +By degrees, softening the facts as much as possible, I told the tale. +Of Tom's apprehension about the time of her marriage; his trial which +followed close upon it; his conviction, and departure for a penal +settlement; his escape; his return to England; his concealments to +evade detection; his illness; and his present state. Blanche shivered +and cried as she listened, and finally fell upon her knees, and buried +her face in the cushions of the chair. + +"And is there _no_ hope for him, Charles?" she said, looking up after +a while. + +"My dear, there is no hope. And, under the circumstances, it is +happier for him to die than to continue to live. But he would like to +see you, Blanche." + +"Poor Tom! Poor Tom! Can we go to him now--this evening?" + +"Yes; it is what I came to propose. It is the best time. He----" + +"Shall I order the carriage?" + +The interruption made me laugh. My Lord Level's state carriage and +powdered servants at that poor fugitive's door! + +"My dear, we must go in the quietest manner. We will take a cab as we +walk along, and get out of it before turning into the street where he +is lying. Change this blue silk for one of the plainest dresses that +you have, and wear a close bonnet and a veil." + +"Oh, of course; I see. Charles, I am too thoughtless." + +"Wait an instant," I said, arresting her as she was crossing the room. +"I must return for a moment to our controversy touching your husband. +You complained bitterly of him last year for secluding you in dull, +remote parts of the Continent, and especially for keeping you away +from England. You took up the notion, and proclaimed it to those who +would listen to you, that it was to serve his own purposes. Do you +remember this?" + +"Well?" said Blanche timidly, her colour coming and going as she stood +with her hands on the table. "He did keep me away; he did seclude me." + +"It was done out of love for you, Blanche. Whilst your heart felt +nothing but reproach for him, his was filled with care and +consideration for you; where to keep you, how to guard you from +hearing of the disgrace and trouble that had overtaken your brother. +_We_ knew--I and Mr. Brightman--Lord Level's motive; and Major Carlen +knew. I believe Level would have given years of his life to save you +from the knowledge always and secure you peace. Now, Blanche, my dear, +as you perceive that, at least in that one respect, you misjudged him +then, do you not think you may be misjudging him still?" + +She burst into tears. "No, I don't think so," she said. "I wish I +could think so. You know that he maintains some dreadful secret at +Marshdale; and that--that--wicked Italians are often staying +there--singers perhaps; I shouldn't wonder; or ballet-dancers--anyway, +people who can have no right and no business to be there. You know +that one of them stabbed him--Oh yes, she did, and it was a woman with +long hair." + +"I do not know anything of the kind." + +"Charles, you look at me reproachfully, as if the blame lay with me +instead of him. Can't you see what a misery it all is for me, and that +it is wearing my life away?" she cried passionately, the tears falling +from her eyes. "I would rather _die_ than separate from him, if I were +not forced to it by the goings on at that wretched Marshdale. What +will life be worth to me, parted from him? I look forward to it with a +sick dread. Charles, I do indeed; and now, when I know--what--is +perhaps--coming----" + +Blanche suddenly crossed her arms upon the table, hid her face upon +them, and sobbed bitterly. + +"What is perhaps coming?" + +"I'm afraid it is, Charles." + +"But what is?" + +"An heir, perhaps." + +It was some moments before I took in the sense of the words. Then I +laughed. + +"Oh well, Blanche! Of course you ought to talk of separation with +_that_ in prospect! Go and put your things on, you silly child: the +evening is wearing away." + +And she left the room. + + * * * * * + +Side by side on the sofa, Blanche's fair head pillowed upon his +breast, his arm thrown round her. She had taken off her bonnet and +mantle, and was crying quietly. + +"Be calm, my dear sister. It is all for the best." + +"Tom, Tom, how came you to do it?" + +"I didn't do it, my dear one. That's where they were mistaken. I +should be no more capable of doing such a thing than you are." + +"Then why did they condemn you--and say you were guilty?" + +"They knew no better. The guilty man escaped, and I suffered." + +"But why did you not tell the truth? Why did you not accuse him to the +judge?" + +"I told the judge I was innocent; but that is what most prisoners say, +and it made no impression on him," replied Tom. "For the rest, I did +not understand the affair as well as I did after the trial. All had +been so hurried; there was no time for anything. Yes, Blanche, you may +at least take this solitary bit of consolation to your heart--that I +was not guilty." + +"And that other man, who was?" she asked eagerly, lifting her face. +"Where is he?" + +"Flourishing," said Tom. "Driving about the world four-in-hand, no +doubt, and taking someone else in as he took me." + +Blanche turned to me, looking haughty enough. + +"Charles, cannot anything be done to expose the man?" she cried. Tom +spoke again before I could answer. + +"It will not matter to me then, one way or the other. But, Charley, I +do sometimes wish, as I lie thinking, that the truth might be made +known and my memory cleared. I was reckless and foolish enough, heaven +knows, but I never did that for which I was tried and sentenced." + +Now, since we had been convinced of Tom Heriot's innocence, the +question whether it would be possible to clear him before the world +had often been in my mind. Lake and I had discussed it more than once. +It would be difficult, no doubt, but it was just possible that time +might place some advantage in our hands and open up a way to us. I +mentioned this now. + +"Ay, difficult enough, I dare say," commented Tom. "With a hundred +barriers in the way--eh, Charley?" + +"The chief difficulty would lie, I believe, in the fact you +acknowledged just now, Tom--your own folly. People argue--they argued +at the time--that a young man so reckless as you were would not stick +at a trifle." + +"Just so," replied Tom with equanimity. "I ought to have pulled up +before, and--I did not. Well; you know my innocence, and now Blanche +knows it, and Level knows it, and old Carlen knows it; you are about +all that are near to me; and the public must be left to chance. +There's one good man, though, I should like to know it, Charles, and +that's Serjeant Stillingfar." + +"He knows it already, Tom. Be at ease on that score." + +"Does _he_ think, I wonder, that my memory might ever be cleared?" + +"He thinks it would be easier to clear you than it would be to trace +the guilt to its proper quarter; but the one, you see, rests upon the +other. There are no proofs, that we know of, to bring forward of that +man's guilt; and----" + +"He took precious good care there should be none," interrupted Tom. +"Let Anstey alone for protecting himself." + +"Just so. But--I was going to say--the Serjeant thinks you have one +chance in your favour. It is this: The man, Anstey, being what he is, +will probably fall into some worse crime which cannot be hidden or +hushed up. When conviction overtakes him, he may be induced to confess +that it was he, and not Captain Heriot, who bore the lion's share in +that past exploit for which you suffered. Rely upon this, Tom--should +any such chance of clearing your memory present itself, it will not be +neglected. I shall be on the watch always." + +There was silence for a time. Tom was leaning back, pale and +exhausted, his breath was short, his face gray, wan and wasted. + +"Has Leah been to see you?" Blanche asked him. + +"Yes, twice; and she considers herself very hardly dealt by that she +may not come here to nurse me," he replied. + +"Could she not be here?" + +I shook my head. "It would not be safe, Blanche. It would be running +another risk. You see, trouble would fall upon others as well as Tom, +were he discovered now: upon me, and more especially upon Lennard." + +"They would be brought to trial for concealing me, just as I was +brought to trial for a different crime," said Tom lightly. "Our +English laws are comprehensive, I assure you, Blanche. Poor Leah says +it is cruel not to let her see the end. I asked her what good she'd +derive from it." + +Blanche gave a sobbing sigh. "How can you talk so lightly, Tom?" + +"Lightly!" he cried, in apparent astonishment. "I don't myself see +very much that's light in that. When the end is at hand, Blanche, why +ignore it?" + +She turned her face again to him, burying it upon his arm, in utmost +sorrow. + +"Don't, Blanche!" he said, his voice trembling. "There's nothing to +cry for; nothing. My darling sister, can't you see what a life mine +has been for months past: pain of body, distress and apprehension of +mind! Think what a glorious change it will be to leave all this for +Heaven!" + +"Are you _sure_ of going there, dear?" she whispered. "Have you made +your peace?" + +Tom smiled at her. Tears were in his own eyes. + +"I think so. Do you remember that wonderful answer to the petition of +the thief on the cross? The promise came back to him at once, on the +instant: 'Verily, I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in +Paradise.' He had been as much of a sinner as I, Blanche." + +Blanche was crying softly. Tom held her to him. + +"Imagine," he said, "how the change must have broken on that poor man. +To pass from the sorrow and suffering of this life into the realms of +Paradise! There was no question as to his fitness, you see, or whether +he had been good or bad; all the sin of the past was condoned when he +took his humble appeal to his Redeemer: 'Lord, remember me when Thou +comest into Thy kingdom!' Blanche, my dear, I know that He will also +remember me." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +DOWN AT MARSHDALE. + + +It was Thursday morning, the day on which Blanche Level was to travel +to Marshdale. She sat in her dining-room at Gloucester Place, her +fingers busy over some delicate fancy-work, her thoughts divided +between the sad interview she had held with Tom Heriot the previous +night, and the forthcoming interview with her husband; whilst her +attention was partially given to old Mrs. Guy, who sat in an +easy-chair by the fire, a thick plaid shawl on her shoulders and her +feet on the fender, recounting the history of an extraordinary pain +which had attacked her in the night. But as Mrs. Guy rarely passed a +night without experiencing some extraordinary pain or other, Blanche +listened absently. + +"It is the heart, my dear; I am becoming sure of that," said the old +lady. "Last year, if you remember, the physician put it down to +spleen; but when I go to him tomorrow and tell him of this dreadful +oppression, he will change his opinion." + +"Don't you think you keep yourself too warm?" said Blanche, who looked +so cool and fresh in her pretty morning dress. "That shawl is heavy, +and the fire is warm; yet it is still quite summer weather." + +"Ah, child, you young people call it summer weather all the year round +if the sun only shines. When you get to be my age, Blanche, you will +know what cold means. I dare say you'll go flying off to Marshdale +this afternoon in that gossamer dress you have on, or one as thin and +flowing." + +"No, I shan't," laughed Blanche; "it would be tumbled and spoilt by +the time I got there. I shall go in that pretty new gray cashmere, +trimmed with silk brocade." + +"That's a lovely dress, child; too good to travel in. And you tell me +you will be back to-morrow. I don't think that very likely, my +dear----" + +"But I intend to be," interrupted Blanche. + +"You will see," nodded the old lady. "When your husband gets you +there, he will keep you there. Give my love to him, Blanche, and say I +hope he will be in town before I go back to Jersey. I should like to +see him." + +Blanche was not paying particular attention to this message. Her +attention was attracted by a telegraph boy, who seemed to be +approaching the door. The next moment there was a loud knock, which +made Mrs. Guy start. Blanche explained that it was a telegram. + +"Oh, dear," cried the old lady. "I don't like telegrams; they always +give me a turn. Perhaps it's come from Jersey to say my house is +burned down." + +The telegram, however, had come from Marshdale. It was addressed to +Lady Level, and proved to be from her husband. + + "_Do not come to Marshdale to-day. Put it off until next week. + I am writing to you. Wait for letter. Let Charles know._" + +Now my Lady Level, staring at the message, and being in chronic +resentment against her husband, all sorts of unorthodox suspicions +rife within her, put the worst possible construction upon this +mandate. + +"I _knew_ how much he would have me at Marshdale!" she exclaimed in +anger, as she tossed the telegram on the table. "'Don't come down till +next week! Wait for letter!' Yes, and next week there'll come another +message, telling me I am not to go at all, or that he will be back +here. It _is_ a shame!" + +"But what is it?" cried old Mrs. Guy, who did not understand, and knew +nothing of any misunderstanding between Blanche and her husband. "Not +to go, you say? Is his lordship ill?" + +"Oh, of course; very ill, indeed," returned Blanche, suppressing the +scorn she felt. + +Putting the telegram into an envelope, she addressed it to me, called +Sanders, and bade him take it at once to my office. He did so. But I +had also received one to the same effect from Lord Level, who, I +suppose, concluded it best to send to me direct. Telling Sanders I +would call on Lady Level that evening, I thought no more about the +matter, and was glad, rather than otherwise, that the journey to +Marshdale was delayed. This chapter, however, has to do with Blanche, +and not with me. + +Now, whether the step that Lady Level took had its rise in an innocent +remark made by Mrs. Guy, or whether it was the result of her own +indignant feeling, cannot be told. "My dear," said the old lady, "if +my husband were ill, I should go to him all the more." And that was +just what Blanche Level resolved to do. + +The previous arrangement had been that she should drive to my office, +to save me time, pick me up, and so onwards to Victoria Station, to +take the four o'clock train, which would land us at Marshdale in an +hour. + +"My dear, I thought I understood that you were not going to Marshdale; +that the telegram stopped you," said Mrs. Guy, hearing Blanche give +orders for the carriage to be at the door at a quarter past three to +convey her to Victoria, and perceiving also that she was making +preparations for a journey. + +"But I intend to go all the same," replied Blanche. "And look here, +dear Mrs. Guy, Charles has sent me word that he will call here this +evening. When he comes, please give him this little note. You won't +forget?" + +"Not I, child. Major Carlen is always telling me I am silly; but I'm +not silly enough to forget messages." + +The barouche waited at the door at the appointed time, and Lady Level +was driven to Victoria, where she took train for Marshdale. Five +o'clock was striking out from Lower Marshdale Church when she arrived +at Marshdale Station. + +"Get out here, miss?" asked the porter, who saw Lady Level trying to +open the door. + +"Yes." + +"Any luggage?" + +"Only this bag," replied Lady Level. + +The man took charge of it, and she alighted. Traversing the little +roadside station, she looked to where the fly generally stood; but no +fly was there. The station-master waited for her ticket. + +"Is the fly not here?" she inquired. + +"Seems not," answered the master indifferently. But as he spoke he +recognised Lady Level. + +"I beg your pardon, my lady. The fly went off with some passengers who +alighted from the last up-train; it's not back yet." + +"Will it be long, do you know?" + +"Well--I---- James," he called to the porter, "where did the fly go +to?" + +"Over to Dimsdale," replied the man. + +"Then it won't be back for half an hour yet, my lady," said the +station-master to Lady Level. + +"Oh, I can't wait all that time," she returned, rather impatiently. "I +will walk. Will you be good enough to send my bag after me?" + +"I'll send it directly, my lady." + +She was stepping from the little platform when a thought struck her, +and she turned to ask a question of the station-master. "Is it safe to +cross the fields now? I remember it was said not to be so when I was +here last." + +"On account of Farmer Piggot's bull," replied he. "The fields are +quite safe now, my lady; the bull has been taken away." + +Lady Level passed in at the little gate, which stood a few yards down +the road, and was the entrance to the field-way which led to +Marshdale House. It was a warm evening, calm and sunny; not a leaf +stirred; all nature seemed at rest. + +"What will Archibald say to me?" she wondered, her thoughts busy. "He +will fly into a passion, perhaps. I can't help it if he does. I am +determined now to find out why I am kept away from Marshdale and why +he is for ever coming to it. This underhand work has been going on too +long." + +At this moment, a whistle behind her, loud and shrill, caused her to +turn. She was then crossing the first field. In the distance she +espied a boy striding towards her: and soon recognised him for the +surly boy, Sam Doughty. He carried her bag, and vouchsafed her a short +nod as he came up. + +"How are you, Sam?" she asked pleasantly. + +"Didn't think about its being you," was Sam's imperturbable answer, as +he walked on beside her. "When they disturbs me at my tea and says I +must go right off that there same moment with a passenger's bag for +Marshdale House, I took it to be my lord's at least." + +"Did they not let you finish your tea?" said Lady Level with a smile. + +"Catch 'em," retorted Sam, in a tone of resentment. "Catch 'em a +letting me stop for a bite or a sup when there's work to do; no, not +if I was starving for 't. The master, he's a regular stinger for being +down upon a fellow's work, and t'other's a----I say," broke off Mr. +Sam, "did you ever know a rat?--one what keeps ferreting his nose into +everything as don't concern him? Then you've knowed James Runn." + +"James Runn is the porter, I suppose?" said Lady Level, much amused. + +"Well, he is, and the biggest sneak as ever growed. What did he go and +do last week? We had a lot o' passengers to get off by the down train +to Dover, the people from the Grange it were, and a sight o' trunks. +I'd been helping to stow the things in the luggage-van, and the +footman, as he was getting into his second-class carriage, holds out a +shilling, open handed. I'd got my fingers upon it, I had, when that +there James Runn, that rascally porter, clutches hold of it and says +it were meant for him, not for me. I wish he was gone, I do!" + +"The bull is gone, I hear," remarked Lady Level. + +"Oh, he have been gone this long time from here," replied the boy, +shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other. "He took to run at +folks reg'lar, he did; such fun it were to hear 'em squawk! One old +woman in a red shawl he took and tossed. Mr. Drewitt up at the House +interfered then, and told Farmer Piggot the bull must be moved; so the +farmer put him over yonder on t'other side his farm into the two-acre +meadow, which haven't got no right o' way through it. I wish he had +tossed that there James Runn first and done for him!" deliberately +avowed Sam, again shifting his burden. + +"You appear to find that bag heavy," remarked Lady Level. + +"It's not that heavy, so to say," acknowledged the surly boy; "it's +that I be famishing for my tea. Oh, that there Runn's vicious, he +is!--a sending me off when I'd hardly took a mouthful!" + +"Well, I could not carry it myself," she said laughingly. + +"_He_ might ha' brought it; he had swallowed down his own tea, he had. +It's not so much he does--just rushes up to the doors o' the trains +when they comes in, on the look out for what may be give to him, +making believe he's letting folks in and out o' the carriages. I see +my lord give him a shilling t'other day; that I did." + +"When my lord arrived here, do you mean?" + +"No, 'twarn't that day, 'twere another. My lord comes on to the +station asking about a parcel he were expecting of. Mr. Noakes, he +were gone to his dinner, and that there Runn answered my lord that he +had just took the parcel to Marshdale House and left it with Mr. Snow. +Upon which my lord puts his hand in his pocket and gives him a +shilling. I see it." + +Lady Level laughed. It was impossible to help it. Sam's tone was so +intensely wrathful. + +"Do you see much of Lord Level?" she asked. + +"I've not see'd him about for some days. It's said he's ill." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +"Don't know," said Sam. "It were Dr. Hill's young man, Mitcham, I +heard say it. Mother sent me last night to Dr. Hill's for her physic, +and Mr. Mitcham he said he had not been told naught about her physic, +but he'd ask the doctor when he came back from attending upon my Lord +Level." + +"Is your mother ill?" inquired Sam's listener. + +"She be that bad, she be, as to be more fit to be a-bed nor up," +replied the boy: and his voice really took a softer tone as he spoke +of his mother. "It were twins this last time, you see, and there's +such a lot to do for 'em all, mother can't spare a minute in the day +to lie by: and father's wages don't go so fur as they did when there +was less mouths at home." + +"How many brothers and sisters have you?" + +"Five," said Sam, "not counting the twins, which makes seven. I be the +eldest, and I makes eight. And, if ever I does get a shilling or a +sixpence gived me, I takes it right home to mother. I wish them there +two twins had kept away," continued Sam spitefully; "mother had her +hands full without them. Squalling things they both be." + +Thus, listening to the boy's confidences, Lady Level came to the +little green gate which opened to the side of the garden at Marshdale +House. Sam carried the bag to the front door. No one was to be seen. +All things, indoors and out, seemed intensely quiet. + +"You can put it down here, Sam," said Lady Level, producing +half-a-crown. "Will you give this to your mother if I give it to you?" + +"I always gives her everything as is gived to me," returned Sam +resentfully. "I telled ye so." + +Slipping it into his pocket, the boy set off again across the fields. +Lady Level rang the bell gently. Somehow she was not feeling so well +satisfied with herself for having come as she felt when she started. +Deborah opened the door. + +"Oh, my lady!" she exclaimed in surprise, but speaking in a whisper. + +"My bag is outside," said Lady Level, walking forward to the first +sitting-room, the door of which stood open. Mrs. Edwards met her. + +"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the old lady, lifting her hands. "Then Snow +never sent those messages off properly after all! My lady, I am sorry +you should have come." + +"I thought I was expected, Mrs. Edwards, and Mr. Strange with me," +returned Blanche coldly. + +"True, my lady, so you were; but a telegram was sent off this morning +to stop you. Two telegrams went, one to your ladyship and one to Mr. +Strange. It was I gave the order from my lord to Snow, and I thought I +might as well send one also to Mr. Strange, though his lordship said +nothing about it." + +"But why was I stopped?" questioned Blanche. + +"On account of my lord's increased illness," replied Mrs. Edwards. "He +grew much worse in the night; and when Mr. Hill saw how it was with +him this morning, he said your ladyship's visit must be put off. Mr. +Hill is with him now." + +"Of what nature is his illness?" + +"My lady, he has not been very well since he came down. When he got +here we remarked that he seemed low-spirited. In a few days he began +to be feverish, and asked me to get him some lemonade made. Quarts of +it he drank: cook protested there'd be a failure of lemons in the +village. 'It is last year's fever back again,' said his lordship to +me, speaking in jest. But, strange to say, he might as well have +spoken in earnest, for it turns out to be the same sort of fever +precisely." + +"Is he very ill?" + +"He is very ill indeed to-day," answered Mrs. Edwards. "Until this +morning it was thought to be a light attack, no danger attending it, +nor any symptom of delirium. But that has all changed, and this +afternoon he is slightly delirious." + +"Is there--danger?" cried Blanche. + +"Mr. Hill says not, my lady. Not yet, at all events. But--here he is," +broke off Mrs. Edwards, as the doctor's step was heard. "He will be +able to explain more of the illness to your ladyship than I can." + +She left the room as Mr. Hill entered it. The same cheerful, hearty +man that Blanche had known last year, with a fine brow and benevolent +countenance. Blanche shook hands with him, and he sat down near her. + +"So you did not get the telegram," he began, after greeting her. + +"I did get it," answered Blanche, feeling rather ashamed to be obliged +to confess it. "But I--I was ready, and I thought I would come all the +same." + +"It is a pity," said Mr. Hill. "You must not let your husband see you. +Indeed, the best thing you can do will be to go back again." + +"But why?" asked Blanche, turning obstinate. "What have I done to him +that he may not see me?" + +"You don't understand, child," said the surgeon, speaking in his +fatherly way. "His lordship is in a critical state, the disease having +manifested itself with alarming rapidity. If he can be kept perfectly +calm and still, its progress may be arrested and danger averted. If +not, it will assuredly turn to brain-fever and must run its course. +Anything likely to rouse him in the smallest degree, no matter +whether it be pleasure or pain, must be absolutely kept from him. Only +the sight of you might bring on an excitement that might be--well, I +was going to say fatal. That is why I suggested to his lordship to +send off the telegram." + +"You knew I was coming down, then?" said Blanche. + +"My dear, I did know; and---- But, bless me, I ought to apologize to +your ladyship for my familiarity of speech," broke off the kindly +doctor, with a smile. + +Blanche answered by smiling too, and putting her hand into his. + +"I lost a daughter when she was about your age, my dear; you put me in +mind of her; I said so to Mrs. Edwards when you were here last autumn. +She was my only child, and my wife was already gone. Well, well! But +that's beside the present question," he added briskly. "Will you go +back to town, Lady Level?" + +"I would rather remain, now I am here," she answered. "At least, for a +day or two. I will take care not to show myself to Lord Level." + +"Very well," said the doctor, rising. "Do not let him either hear you +or see you. I shall be in again at nine to-night." + +"Who is nursing him?" asked Blanche. + +"Mrs. Edwards. She is the best nurse in the world. Snow, the head +gardener, helps occasionally; he will watch by him to-night; and +Deborah fetches and carries." + +Lady Level took contrition to herself as she sat alone. She had been +mentally accusing her husband of all sorts of things, whilst he was +really lying in peril of his life. Matters and mysteries pertaining to +Marshdale were not cleared up; but--Blanche could not discern any +particular mystery to wage war with just now. + +Tea was served to her, and Blanche would not allow them to think of +dinner. Mrs. Edwards had a room prepared for her in a different +corridor from Lord Level's, so that he would not be in danger of +hearing her voice or footsteps. + +Very lonely felt Blanche when twilight fell, as she sat at the window. +She thought she had never seen trees look so melancholy before, and +she recalled what Charles Strange had always said--that the sight of +trees in the gloaming caused him to be curiously depressed. Presently, +wrapping a blue cloud about her head and shoulders, she strolled out +of doors. + +It was nearly dark now, and the overhanging trees made it darker. +Blanche strolled to the front gate and looked up and down the road. +Not a soul was about; not a sound broke the stillness. The house +behind her was gloomy enough; no light to be seen save the faint one +that burnt in Lord Level's chamber, whose windows faced this way; or a +flash that now and then appeared in the passages from a lamp carried +by someone moving about. + +Blanche walked up and down, now in this path, now in that, now sitting +on a bench to think, under the dark trees. By-and-by, she heard the +front door open and someone come down the path, cross to the side +path, unlock the small door that led into the garden of the East Wing +and enter it. By the very faint light remaining, she thought she +recognised John Snow, the gardener. + +She distinctly heard his footsteps pass up the other garden; she +distinctly heard the front door of the East Wing open to admit him, +and close again. Prompted by idle curiosity, Blanche also approached +the little door in the wall, found it shut, but not locked, opened it, +went in, advanced to where she had full view of the wing, and stood +gazing up at it. Like the other part of the house, it loomed out dark +and gloomy: the upper windows appeared to have outer bars before them; +at least, Blanche thought so. Only in one room was there any light. + +It was in a lower room, a sitting-room, no doubt. The lamp, standing +on the centre table, was bright; the window was thrown up. Beside it +sat someone at work; crochet-work, or knitting, or tatting; something +or other done with the fingers. Mrs. Snow amusing herself, thought +Blanche at first; but in a moment she saw that it was not Mrs. Snow. +The face was dark and handsome, and the black hair was adorned with +black lace. With a sensation as of some mortal agony rushing and +whirling through her veins, Lady Level recognised her. It was Nina, +the Italian. + +Nina, who had been the object of her suspicious jealousy; Nina, who +was, beyond doubt, the attraction that drew her husband to Marshdale; +and who, as she fully believed, had been the one to stab him a year +ago! + +Blanche crept back to her own garden. Finding instinctively the +darkest seat it contained, she sat down upon it with a faint cry of +despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN THE EAST WING. + + +What will not a jealous and angry woman do? On the next morning +(Friday) Blanche Level, believing herself to be more ignominiously +treated than ever wife was yet, despatched a couple of telegrams to +London, both of them slightly incomprehensible. One of the telegrams +was to Charles Strange, the other to Arnold Ravensworth; and both were +to the same effect--they must hasten down to Marshdale to her +"protection" and "rescue." And Mr. Ravensworth was requested to bring +his wife. + +"She will be some little countenance for me; I'm sure I dare not +think how I must be looked upon here," mentally spoke my Lady Level in +her glowing indignation. + +Lord Level was better. When Mr. Hill paid his early visit that Friday +morning, he pronounced him to be very much better; and John Snow said +his lordship had passed a quiet night. "If we can only keep him +tranquil to-day and to-night again, there will be no further danger +from the fever," Mr. Hill then observed to Lady Level. + +The day went on, the reports from the sick-room continuing favourable: +my lord was lying tranquil, his mind clear. My lady, down below, was +anything but tranquil: rather she felt herself in a raging fever. In +the evening, quite late, the two gentlemen arrived from London, not +having been able to come earlier. Mrs. Ravensworth was not with them; +she could not leave her delicate baby. Lady Level had given orders for +chambers to be prepared. + +After they had partaken of refreshments, which brought the time to ten +o'clock, Lady Level opened upon her grievances--past and present. +Modest and reticent though her language still was, she contrived to +convey sundry truths to them. From the early days of her marriage she +had unfortunately had cause to suspect Lord Level of disloyalty to +herself and of barefaced loyalty to another. Her own eyes had seen him +more than once with the girl called Nina at Pisa; had seen him at her +house, sitting side by side with her in her garden smoking and +talking--had heard him address her by her Christian name. This woman, +as she positively knew, had followed Lord Level to England; this woman +was harboured at Marshdale. She was in the house now, in its East +Wing. She, Blanche, had seen her there the previous evening. + +Mr. Ravensworth's severe countenance took a stern expression as he +listened; he believed every word. Charles Strange (I am not speaking +just here in my own person) still thought there might be a mistake +somewhere. He could not readily take up so bad an opinion of Lord +Level, although circumstances did appear to tell against him. His +incredulity irritated Blanche. + +"I will tell you, then, Charles, what I have never disclosed to mortal +man," she flashed forth, in a passionate whisper, bending forward her +pretty face, now growing whiter than death. "You remember that attack +upon Lord Level last autumn. You came down at the time, Arnold----" + +"Yes, yes. What about it?" + +"It was that woman who stabbed him!" + +Neither spoke for a moment. "Nonsense, Blanche!" said Mr. Strange. + +"But I tell you that it was. She was in night-clothes, or something of +that kind, and her black hair was falling about her; but I could not +mistake her Italian face." + +Mr. Ravensworth did not forget Lady Level's curious behaviour at the +time; he had thought then she suspected someone in particular. "Are +you _sure_?" he asked her now. + +"I am sure. And you must both see the danger I may be in whilst +here," she added, with a shiver. "That woman may try to stab me, as +she stabbed him. She must have stabbed him out of jealousy, because +I--her rival--was there." + +"You had better quit the house the first thing in the morning, Lady +Level, and return to London," said Mr. Ravensworth. + +"That I will not do," she promptly answered. "I will not leave +Marshdale until these shameful doings are investigated; and I have +sent for you to act on my behalf and bring them to light. No longer +shall the reproach be perpetually cast upon me by papa and Charles +Strange, that I complain of my husband without cause. It is my turn +now." + +That something must be done, in justice to Lady Level, or at least +attempted, they both saw. But what, or how to set about it, neither of +them knew. They remained in consultation together long after Blanche +had retired to rest. + +"We will go out at daybreak and have a look at the windows of this +East Wing," finally observed Mr. Ravensworth. + +Perhaps that was easier said than done. With the gray light of early +morning they were both out of doors; but they could not find any +entrance to the East Wing. The door in the wall of the front garden +was locked; the entrance gates from the road were locked also. In the +garden at the back--it was more of a wilderness than a garden--they +discovered a small gate in a corner. It was completely overgrown with +trees and shrubs, and had evidently not been used for years and years. +But the wood had become rotten, the fastenings loose; and by their +united strength they opened it. + +They found themselves in a very large space of ground indeed. Grass +was in the middle, quite a field of it; and round it a broad gravel +walk. Encompassing all on three sides rose a wide bank of shrubs and +overhanging trees. Beyond these again was a very high wall. On the +fourth side stood the East Wing, high and gloomy. Its windows were +all encased with iron bars, and the lower windows were whitened. + +Taking a survey of all this, one of them softly whispering in +surprise, Mr. Ravensworth advanced to peer in at the windows. Of +course, being whitened, he had his trouble for his pains. + +"It puts me in mind of a prison," remarked Charles Strange. + +"It puts me in mind of a madhouse," was the laconic rejoinder of Mr. +Ravensworth. + +They passed back through the gate again, Mr. Ravensworth turning to +take a last look. In that minute his eye was attracted to one of the +windows on the ground floor. It opened down the middle, like a French +one, and was being shaken, apparently with a view to opening it--and +if you are well acquainted with continental windows, or windows made +after their fashion, you may remember how long it has taken you to +shake a refractory window before it will obey. It was at length +effected, and in the opening, gazing with a vacant, silly expression +through the close bars, appeared a face. It remained in view but a +moment; the window was immediately closed again, Mr. Ravensworth +thought by another hand. What was the mystery? + +That some mystery did exist at Marshdale, apart from any Italian +ladies who might have no fair right to be there, was pretty evident. +At breakfast the gentlemen related this little experience to Blanche. + +Madame Blanche tossed her head in incredulity. "Don't be taken in," +she answered. "Windows whitened and barred, indeed! It is all done +with a view to misleading people. She was sitting at the _open_ window +at work on Thursday night." + +After breakfast, resolved no longer to be played with, Blanche +proceeded upstairs to Mr. Drewitt's rooms, her friends following her, +all three of them creeping by Lord Level's chamber-door with noiseless +steps. His lordship was getting better quite wonderfully, Mrs. Edwards +had told them. + +The old gentleman, in his quaint costume, was in his sitting-room, +taking his breakfast alone. Mrs. Edwards took her meals anywhere, and +at any time, during her lord's illness. Hearing strange footsteps in +the corridor, he rose to see whose they were, and looked considerably +astonished. + +"Does your ladyship want me?" he asked, bowing. + +"I--yes, I think I do," answered Lady Level. "Who keeps the key of +that door, Mr. Drewitt?" pointing to the strong oaken door at the end +of the passage. + +"I keep it, my lady." + +"Then will you be kind enough to unlock it for me? These gentlemen +wish to examine the East Wing." + +"The East Wing is private to his lordship," was the steward's reply, +addressing them all conjointly. "Without his authority I cannot open +it to anyone." + +They stood contending a little while: it was like a repetition of the +scene that had been enacted there once before; and, like that, was +terminated by the same individual--the surgeon. + +"It is all right, Mr. Drewitt." he said; "you can open the door of the +East Wing; I bear you my lord's orders. I am going in there to see a +patient," he added to the rest. + +The steward produced a key from his pocket, and put it into the lock. +It was surprising that so small a key should open so massive a door. + +They passed, wonderingly, through three rooms _en suite_: a +sitting-room, a bedroom, and a bath-room. All these rooms looked to +the back of the house. Other rooms there were on the same floor, which +the visitors did not touch upon. Descending the staircase, they +entered three similar rooms below. In the smaller one lay some +garden-tools, but of a less size than a grown man in his strength +would use, and by their side were certain toys: tops, hoops, ninepins, +and the like. The middle room was a sitting-room; the larger room +beyond had no furniture, and in that, standing over a humming-top, +which he had just set to spin on the floor, bent the singular figure +of a youth. He had a dark, vacant face, wild black eyes, and a mass of +thick black hair, cut short. This figure, a child's whip in his hand, +was whipping the top, and making a noise with his mouth in imitation +of its hum. + +Half madman, half idiot, he stood out, in all his deep misfortune, +raising himself up and staring about him with a vacant stare. The +expression of Mr. Ravensworth's face changed to one of pity. "Who are +you?" he exclaimed in kindly tones. "What is your name?" + +"Arnie!" was the mechanical answer, for brains and sense seemed to +have little to do with it; and, catching up his top, he backed against +the wall, and burst into a distressing laugh. Distressing to a +listener; not distressing to him, poor fellow. + +"Who is he?" asked Mr. Ravensworth of the doctor. + +"An imbecile." + +"So I see. But what connection has he with Lord Level's family?" + +"He is a connection, or he would not be here." + +"Can he be--be--a son of Lord Level's?" + +"A son!" interposed the steward, "and my lord but just married! No, +sir, he is not a son, he is none so near as that; he is but a +connection of the Level family." + +The lad came forward from the wall where he was standing, and held out +his top to his old friend the doctor. "Do, do," he cried, spluttering +as he spoke. + +"Nay, Arnie, you can set it up better than I: my back won't stoop +well, Arnie." + +"Do, do," was the persistent request, the top held out still. + +Mr. Ravensworth took it and set it up again, he looking on in greedy +eagerness, slobbering and making a noise with his mouth. Then his note +changed to a hum, and he whipped away as before. + +"Why is he not put away in an asylum?" asked Mr. Ravensworth. + +"Put away in an asylum!" retorted the old steward indignantly. "Where +could he be put to have the care and kindness that is bestowed upon +him here? Imbecile though he is, madman though he may be, he is dear +to me and my sister. We pass our lives tending him, in conjunction +with Snow and his wife, doing for him, soothing him: where else could +that be done? You don't know what you are saying, sir. My lord, who +received the charge from his father, comes down to see him: my lord +orders that everything should be done for his comfort. And do you +suppose it is fitting that his condition should be made public? The +fact of one being so afflicted is slur enough upon the race of Level, +without its being proclaimed abroad." + +"It was he who attacked Lord Level last year? + +"Yes, it was; and how he could have escaped to our part of the house +will be a marvel to me for ever. My sister says I could not have +slipped the bolt of the passage door as usual, but I know I did bolt +it. Arnie had been restless that day; he has restless fits; and I +suppose he could not sleep, and must have risen from his bed and come +to my sitting-room. On my table there I had left my pocket-knife, a +new knife, the blades bright and sharp; and this he must have picked +up and opened, and found his way with it to my lord's chamber. Why he +should have attacked him, or anyone else, I know not; he never had a +ferocious fit before." + +"Never," assented Mr. Hill, in confirmation. + +Mr. Drewitt continued: "He has been imbecile and harmless as you see +him now, but he has never disturbed us at night; he has, as I say, +fits of restlessness when he cannot sleep, but he is sufficiently +sensible to ring a bell communicating with Snow's chamber if he wants +anything. If ever he has rung, it has been to say he wants meat." + +"Meat!" + +The steward nodded. "But it has never been given to him. He is cunning +as a fox; they all are; and were we to begin giving him food in the +middle of the night we must continue to do it, or have no peace. +Eating is his one enjoyment in life, and he devours everything set +before him--meat especially. If we have any particular dainty upstairs +for dinner or supper, I generally take him in some. Deborah, I +believe, thinks I eat all that comes up, and sets me down for a +cannibal. He has a hot supper every night. About a year ago we got to +think it might be better for him to have a lighter one, and we tried +it for a week; but he moaned and cried all night long for his hot +meat, and we had to give it him again. The night this happened we had +veal cutlets and bacon, and he had the same. He asked for more, but I +would not give it; perhaps that angered him, and he mistook my lord +for me. Mr. Hill thought it might be so. I shall never be able to +account for it." + +The doctor nodded assent; and the speaker went on: + +"His hair was long then, and he must have looked just like a maniac +when the fit of fury lay upon him. Little wonder that my lady was +frightened at the sight of him. After he had done the deed he ran back +to his own room; I, aroused by the commotion, found him in his bed. He +burst out laughing when he saw me: 'I got your knife, I got your +knife,' he called out, as if it were a feat to be proud of. His +movements must have been silent and stealthy, for Snow had heard +nothing." + +At this moment there occurred an interruption. The Italian lady +approached the room with timid, hesitating steps, and peeped in. "Ah, +how do you do, doctor?" she said in a sweet, gentle voice, as she held +out her hand to Mr. Hill. Her countenance was mild, open, and honest; +and a conviction rushed on the instant into Blanche's mind that she +had been misjudging that foreign lady. + +"These good gentlepeople are come to see our poor patient?" she added, +curtseying to them with native grace, her accent quite foreign. "The +poor, poor boy," tears filling her eyes. "And I foretell that this +must be my lord's wife!" addressing Blanche. "Will she permit a poor +humble stranger to shake her by the hand for her lord's sake--her +lord, who has been so good to us?" + +"This lady is sister to the unfortunate boy's mother," said the +doctor, in low tones to Blanche. "She is a good woman, and worthy to +shake hands with you, my lady." + +"But who was his father?" whispered Blanche. + +"Mr. Francis Level; my lord's dead brother." + +Her countenance radiant, Blanche took the lady's hand and warmly +clasped it. "You live here to take care of the poor lad," she said. + +"But no, madam. I do but come at intervals to see him, all the way +from Pisa, in Italy. And also I have had to come to bring documents +and news to my lord, respecting matters that concern him and the poor +lad. But it is over now," she added. "The week after the one next to +come, Arnie goes back with me to Italy, his native country, and my +journeys to this country will be ended. His mother, who is always ill +and not able to travel, wishes now to have her afflicted son with +her." + +Back in the other house again, after wishing Nina Sparlati good-day, +the astonished visitors gathered in Mr. Drewitt's room to listen to +the tale which had to be told them. Mrs. Edwards, who was awaiting +them, and fonder of talking than her brother, was the principal +narrator. Blanche went away, whispering to Charles Strange that she +would hear it from him afterwards. + +"We were abroad in Italy," Mrs. Edwards began: "it is many years ago. +The late lord, our master then, went for his health, which was +declining, though he was but a middle-aged man, and I and my brother +were with him, his personal attendants, but treated more like friends. +The present lord, Mr. Archibald, named after his father, was with +us--he was the second son, not the heir; the eldest son, Mr. +Level--Francis was his name--had been abroad for years, and was then +in another part of Italy. He came to see his father when we first got +out to Florence, but he soon left again. 'He'll die before my lord,' I +said to Mr. Archibald; for if ever I saw consumption on a man's face, +it was on Mr. Level's. And I remember Mr. Archibald's answer as if it +was but yesterday: 'That's just one of your fancies, nurse: Frank +tells me he has looked the last three years as he looks now.' But I +was right, sir; for shortly after that we received news of the death +of Mr. Level; and then Mr. Archibald was the heir. My lord, who had +grown worse instead of better, was very ill then." + +"Did the late lord die in Italy?" questioned Mr. Ravensworth. + +"You shall hear, sir. He grew very ill, I say, and we thought he +would be sure to move homewards, but he still stayed on. 'Archibald +likes Florence,' he would say, 'and it's all the same to me where I +am.' 'Young Level stops for the _beaux yeux_ of the Tuscan women,' the +world said--but you know, sir, the world always was censorious; and +young men will be young men. However, we were at last on the move; +everything was packed and prepared for leaving, when there arrived an +ill-favoured young woman, with some papers and a little child, two +years old. Its face frightened me when I saw it. It was, as a child, +what it is now as a growing man; and you have seen it today," she +added in a whisper. "'What is the matter with him?' I asked, for I +could speak a little Italian. 'He's a born natural, as yet,' she +answered, 'but the doctors think he may outgrow it in part.' 'But who +is he? what does he do here?' I said. 'He's the son of Mr. Level,' she +replied, 'and I have brought him to the family, for his mother, who +was my sister, is also dead.' 'He the son of Mr. Level!' I uttered, +knowing she must speak of Mr. Francis. 'Well, you need not bring him +here: we English do not recognise chance children.' 'They were married +three years ago,' she coolly answered, 'and I have brought the papers +to prove it. Mr. Level was a gentleman and my sister not much above a +peasant; but she was beautiful and good, and he married her, and this +is their child. She has been dying by inches since her husband died; +she is now dead, and I am come here to give up the child to his +father's people." + +"Was it true?" interrupted Mr. Strange. + +"My lord thought so, sir, and took kindly to the child. He was brought +home here, and the East Wing was made his nursery----" + +"Then that--that--poor wretch down there is the true Lord Level!" +interrupted Mr. Ravensworth. + +"One day, when my lord was studying the documents the woman had left," +resumed Mrs. Edwards, passing by the remark with a glance, "something +curious struck him in the certificate of marriage; he thought it was +forged. He showed it to Mr. Archibald, and they decided to go back to +Italy, leaving the child here. All the inquiries they made there +tended to prove that, though the child was indeed Mr. Francis Level's, +there had been no marriage, or semblance of one. All the same, said my +lord, the poor child shall be kindly reared and treated and provided +for: and Mr. Archibald solemnly promised his father it should be so. +My lord died at Florence, and Mr. Archibald came back Lord Level." + +"And he never forgot his promise to his father," interposed the +steward, "but has treated the child almost as though he were a true +son, consistent with his imbecile state. That East Wing has been his +happy home, as Mr. Hill can testify: he has toys to amuse him, the +garden to dig in, which is his favourite pastime; and Snow draws him +about the paths in his hand-carriage on fine days. It is a sad +misfortune, for him and for the family; but my lord has done his +best." + +"It would have been a greater for my lord had the marriage been a +legal one," remarked Mr. Ravensworth. + +"I don't know that," sharply spoke up the doctor. "As an idiot I +believe he could not inherit. However, the marriage was not a legal +one, and my lord is my lord. The mother is not dead; that was a +fabrication also; but she is ill, helpless, and is pining for her son; +so now he is to be taken to her; my lord, in his generosity, securing +him an ample income. It was not the mother who perpetrated the fraud, +but the avaricious eldest sister. This sister, the one you have just +seen, is the youngest; she is good and honourable, and has done her +best to unravel the plot." + +That was all the explanation given to Mr. Ravensworth. But the doctor +put his arm within that of Charles Strange, and took him into the +presence of Lord Level. + +"Well," said his lordship, who was then sitting up in bed, and held +out his hand, "have you been hearing all about the mysteries, +Charles?" + +"Yes," smiled Mr. Strange. "I felt sure that whatever the mystery +might be, it was one you could safely explain away if you chose." + +"Ay: though Blanche did take up the other view and want to cut my head +off." + +"She was your own wife, your _loving_ wife, I am certain: why not have +told her?" + +"Because I wanted to be quite sure of certain things first," replied +Lord Level. "Listen, Charles: you have my tale to hear yet. Sit down. +Sit down, Hill. How am I to talk while you stand?" he asked, laughing. + +"When we were in Paris after our marriage a year ago, I received two +shocks on one and the same morning," began Lord Level. "The one told +me of the trouble Tom Heriot had fallen into; the other, contained in +a letter from Pisa, informed me that there _had been a marriage_ after +all between my brother and that girl, Bianca Sparlati. If so, of +course, that imbecile lad stood between me and the title and estate; +though I don't think he could legally inherit. But I did not believe +the information. I felt sure that it was another invented artifice of +Annetta, the wretched eldest sister, who is a grasping intriguante. I +started at once for Pisa, where they live, to make inquiries in +person: travelling by all sorts of routes, unfrequented by the +English, that my wife might not hear of her brother's disgrace. At +Pisa I found difficulties: statements met me that seemed to prove +there had been a marriage, and I did not see my way to disprove them. +Nina, a brave, honest girl, confessed to me that she doubted them, and +I begged of her, for truth and right's sake, to help me as far as she +could. I cannot enter into details now, Strange; I am not strong +enough for it; enough to say that ever since, nearly a whole year, +have I been trying to ferret out the truth: and I only got at it a +week ago." + +"And there was no marriage?" + +"Tell him, Hill," said Lord Level, laughing. + +"Well, a sort of ceremony did pass between Francis Level and that +young woman, but both of them knew at the time it was not legal, or +one that could ever stand good," said the doctor. "Now the real facts +have come to light. It seems that Bianca had been married when very +young to a sailor named Dromio; within a month of the wedding he +sailed away again and did not return. She thought him dead, took up +her own name again and went home to her family; and later became +acquainted with Francis Level. Now, the sailor has turned up again, +alive and well----" + +"The first husband!" exclaimed Charles Strange. + +"If you like to call him so," said Mr. Hill; "there was never a +second. Well, the sailor has come to the fore again; and +honest-hearted Nina travelled here from Pisa with the news, and we +sent for his lordship to come down and hear it. He was also wanted +for another matter. The boy had had a sort of fit, and I feared he +would die. My lord heard what Nina had to tell him when he arrived; he +did not return at once to London, for Arnie was still in danger, and +he waited to see the issue. Very shortly he was taken ill himself, and +could not get away. It was good news, though, about that resuscitated +sailor!" laughed the doctor, after a pause. "All's well that ends +well, and my Lord Level is his own man again." + +Charles Strange sought an interview with his sister--as he often +called her--and imparted to her these particulars. He then left at +once for London with Mr. Ravensworth. Their mission at Marshdale was +over. + + * * * * * + +Lord Level, up and dressed, lay on a sofa in his bedroom in the +afternoon. Blanche sat on a footstool beside him. Her face was hidden +upon her husband's knee and she was crying bitter tears. + +"Shall you ever forgive me, Archibald?" + +He was smiling quietly. "Some husbands might say no." + +"You don't know how miserable I have been." + +"Don't I! But how came you to fall into such notions at first, +Blanche? To suspect me of ill at all?" + +"It was that Mrs. Page Reid who was with us at Pisa. She said all +sorts of things." + +"Ah!" + +"_Won't_ you forgive me, Archibald?" + +"Yes, upon condition that you trust me fully in future. Will you, +love?" he softly whispered. + +She could not speak for emotion. + +"And the next time you have a private grievance against me, Blanche, +tell it out plainly," he said, as he held her to him and gave her kiss +for kiss. + +"My darling, yes. But I shall never have another." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CONCLUSION. + + +I, Charles Strange, took up this story at its commencement, and I take +it up now at its close. + + * * * * * + +It was a lovely day at the end of summer, in the year following the +events recorded in the last chapter, and we were again at Marshdale +House. + +The two individuals who had chiefly marred the peace of one or another +of us in the past were both gone where disturbance is not. Poor Tom +Heriot was mouldering in his grave near to that in which his father +and mother lay, not having been discovered by the police or molested +in any way; and the afflicted Italian lad had died soon after he was +taken to his native land. Mr. Hill had warned Nina Sparlati that, in +all probability, he would not live long. Mrs. Brightman, I may as well +say it here, had recovered permanently; recovered in all ways, as we +hoped and believed. The long restraint laid upon her by her illness +had effected the cure that nothing else might have been able to +effect, and re-established the good habits she had lost. But Miss +Brightman was dead; she had not lived to come home from Madeira, and +the whole of her fortune was left to Annabel. "So you can live where +you please now and go in for grandeur," Arthur Lake said to me and my +wife. "All in good time," laughed Annabel; "I am not yet tired of +Essex Street." + +And now we had come down in the sunny August weather when the courts +were up, to stay at Marshdale. + +You might be slow to recognise it, though. Recalling the picture of +Marshdale House as it was, and looking at it now, many would have said +it could not be the same. + +The dreary old structure had been converted into a light and beautiful +mansion. The whitened windows with their iron bars were no more. The +disfiguring, unnaturally-high walls were gone, and the tangled shrubs +and weeds, the overgrowth of trees that had made the surrounding land +a wilderness, were now turned into lovely pleasure-grounds. The gloomy +days had given place to sunny ones, said Lord Level, and the gloomy +old structure, with its gloomy secrets, should be remembered no more. + +Marshdale was now their chief home, his and his wife's, with their +establishment of servants. Mr. Drewitt and Mrs. Edwards had moved into +a pretty dwelling hard by; but they were welcomed whenever they liked +to go to the house, and were treated as friends. The steward kept the +accounts still, and Mrs. Edwards was appealed to by Blanche in all +domestic difficulties. She rarely appeared before her lady but in her +quaint gala attire. + +We were taking tea out of doors at the back of the renovated East +Wing. The air bore that Sabbath stillness which Sunday seems to bring: +distant bells, ringing the congregation out of church, fell +melodiously on the ear. We had been idle this afternoon and stayed at +home, but all had attended service in the morning. Mr. Hill had called +in and was sitting with us. Annabel presided at the rustic tea-table; +Blanche was a great deal too much occupied with her baby-boy, whom she +had chosen to have brought out: a lively young gentleman in a blue +sash, whose face greatly resembled his father's. Next to Lord Level +sat my uncle, who had come down for a week's rest. He was no longer +Serjeant Stillingfar; but Sir Charles, and one of her Majesty's +judges. + +"Won't you have some tea, my dear?" he said to Blanche, who was +parading the baby. + +By the way, they had named him Charles. Charles Archibald; to be +called by the former name: Lord Level protested he would not have +people saying Young Archie and Old Archie. + +"Yes, Blanche," said he, taking up the suggestion of the judge. "Do +let that child go indoors: one might think he was a new toy. Here, +I'll take him." + +"Archibald need not talk," laughed Blanche, looking after her husband, +who had taken the child from her and was tossing it as he went +indoors. "He is just as fond of having the baby as I am. Neither need +you laugh, Mr. Charles," turning upon me; "your turn will come soon, +you know." + +Leaving the child in its nursery in the East Wing, Lord Level came +back to his place; and we sat on until evening approached. A peaceful +evening, promising a glorious sunset. An hour after midday, when we +had just got safely in from church, there had been a storm of thunder +and lightning, and it had cleared the sultry air. The blue sky above, +flecked with gold, was of a lovely rose colour towards the west. + +"The day has been a type of life: or of what life ought to be," +suddenly remarked Mr. Hill. "Storm and cloud succeeded by peace and +sunshine." + +"The end is not always peaceful," said Lord Level. + +"It mostly is when we have worked on for it patiently," said the +judge. "My friends, you may take the word of an old man for it--that a +life of storm and trouble, through which we have struggled manfully to +do our duty under God, ever bearing on in reliance upon Him, must of +necessity end in peace. Perhaps not always perfect and entire peace in +this world; but assuredly in that which is to come." + +THE END. + + +BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. + +_S. & H._ + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + +Inconsistent and archaic spelling retained. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Charles Strange, Vol. 3 +(of 3), by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE *** + +***** This file should be named 38625.txt or 38625.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/6/2/38625/ + +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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