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diff --git a/42056-8.txt b/42056-0.txt index a2b821c..0945cf9 100644 --- a/42056-8.txt +++ b/42056-0.txt @@ -1,38 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Red Window, by Fergus Hume - - -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 Red Window - - -Author: Fergus Hume - - - -Release Date: February 9, 2013 [eBook #42056] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED WINDOW*** - - -E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Ernest Schaal, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(http://archive.org/details/americana) - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42056 *** Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. @@ -550,9 +516,9 @@ me up. We have never been good friends," sighed Bernard again, "and when I wanted to marry Alice there was a row. I fear I lost my temper. You know from my mother I inherit a fearful temper, nor do I think the Gores are the calmest of people. However, Sir Simon swore that he wouldn't -have another _mésalliance_ in the family and--" +have another _mésalliance_ in the family and--" -"_Mésalliance?_" +"_Mésalliance?_" "Yes! No one knows who Alice is, and Miss Plantagenet--who does know--won't tell." @@ -1606,7 +1572,7 @@ company, retained his lancer uniform. Their host laughed as he contemplated the two. "I feel inclined to go to the front myself," said he, handing Gore a -glass of kümmel, "but the business would suffer." +glass of kümmel, "but the business would suffer." "Leave it in charge of a clerk," said Conniston, in his hair-brained way. "You have no ties to keep you here. Your parents are dead--you @@ -1884,7 +1850,7 @@ have not dated the letter." into his pocket, and promising to use it should occasion offer. "Yes. She thinks a great deal of the West family," said Conniston, -taking another glass of kümmel, "and she would howl if she heard I was a +taking another glass of kümmel, "and she would howl if she heard I was a mere private. And I don't know but what she may not know. I saw that young brute of a Judas when I left you the other day, Bernard." @@ -4062,7 +4028,7 @@ I wrote to you." "I could think of nowhere to hide," said Gore, leaning back with a weary sigh. "And after all," he added, with a glance round, "this is a very -good _caché_." +good _caché_." Conniston nodded. "You are quite safe here. I will show you the way to the vaults, and should there be any chance of your being discovered you @@ -10156,7 +10122,7 @@ also that several of her husband's people had come to bad ends." "To rope ends, I suppose, as Jerry will come," said Durham. "However, he is safe for the next three years in his reformatory. When he comes out, -we will see what will happen. What about your other _protégé_, Miss +we will see what will happen. What about your other _protégé_, Miss Berengaria." "Michael Gilroy?" @@ -10490,362 +10456,4 @@ On page 311, a period was added after "Mrs". On page 317, a comma was added before "how glad I am to see you!". - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED WINDOW*** - - -******* This file should be named 42056-8.txt or 42056-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/2/0/5/42056 - - - -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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -<p>Title: The Red Window</p> -<p>Author: Fergus Hume</p> -<p>Release Date: February 9, 2013 [eBook #42056]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED WINDOW***</p> <p> </p> -<h4 class="center">E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Ernest Schaal,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> - (<a href="http://archive.org/details/americana">http://archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> <p> </p> <table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> <tr> @@ -803,9 +787,9 @@ to marry Alice there was a row. I fear I lost my temper. You know from my mother I inherit a fearful temper, nor do I think the Gores are the calmest of people. However, Sir Simon swore that he wouldn't have -another <i>mésalliance</i> in the family and—"</p> +another <i>mésalliance</i> in the family and—"</p> -<p class="indent">"<i>Mésalliance?</i>"</p> +<p class="indent">"<i>Mésalliance?</i>"</p> <p class="indent">"Yes! No one knows who Alice is, and Miss Plantagenet—who does know—won't tell."</p> @@ -2126,7 +2110,7 @@ his lancer uniform. Their host laughed as he contemplated the two.</p> <p class="indent">"I feel inclined to go to the front myself," said he, -handing Gore a glass of kümmel, "but the business +handing Gore a glass of kümmel, "but the business would suffer."</p> <p class="indent">"Leave it in charge of a clerk," said Conniston, in @@ -2466,7 +2450,7 @@ putting the letter into his pocket, and promising to use it should occasion offer.</p> <p class="indent">"Yes. She thinks a great deal of the West family," -said Conniston, taking another glass of kümmel, "and +said Conniston, taking another glass of kümmel, "and she would howl if she heard I was a mere private. And I don't know but what she may not know. I saw that <span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> @@ -5221,7 +5205,7 @@ I wrote to you."</p> <p class="indent">"I could think of nowhere to hide," said Gore, leaning back with a weary sigh. "And after all," he -added, with a glance round, "this is a very good <i>caché</i>."</p> +added, with a glance round, "this is a very good <i>caché</i>."</p> <p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span> Conniston nodded. "You are quite safe here. I @@ -12832,7 +12816,7 @@ several of her husband's people had come to bad ends."</p> <p class="indent">"To rope ends, I suppose, as Jerry will come," said Durham. "However, he is safe for the next three years in his reformatory. When he comes out, we will -see what will happen. What about your other <i>protégé</i>, +see what will happen. What about your other <i>protégé</i>, Miss Berengaria."</p> <p class="indent">"Michael Gilroy?"</p> @@ -13217,360 +13201,6 @@ father's name."</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED WINDOW***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 42056-h.txt or 42056-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/2/0/5/42056">http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/0/5/42056</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed.</p> - -<p> -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. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. 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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 Red Window - - -Author: Fergus Hume - - - -Release Date: February 9, 2013 [eBook #42056] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED WINDOW*** - - -E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Ernest Schaal, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(http://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustration. - See 42056-h.htm or 42056-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42056/42056-h/42056-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42056/42056-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - http://archive.org/details/redwindow00hume - - -Transcriber note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Small capitals were replaced with ALL CAPITALS. - - - - - -THE RED WINDOW - - * * * * * * - - Popular Novels by Fergus Hume - - - THE SECRET PASSAGE - -_The Albany Evening Journal_ says: "Fully as interesting as his former -books, and keeps one guessing to the end. The story begins with the -murder of an old lady, with no apparent cause for the crime, and in -unraveling the mystery the author is very clever in hiding the real -criminal. A pleasing romance runs through the book, which adds to the -interest." - - 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 - - - THE YELLOW HOLLY - -_The Philadelphia Public Ledger_ says: "'The Yellow Holly' outdoes any -of his earlier stories. It is one of those tales that the average reader -of fiction of this sort thinks he knows all about after he has read the -first few chapters. Those who have become admirers of Mr. Hume cannot -afford to miss 'The Yellow Holly.'" - - 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 - - - A COIN OF EDWARD VII. - -_The Philadelphia Item_ says: "This book is quite up to the level of the -high standard which Mr. Hume has set for himself in 'The Mystery of a -Hansom Cab' and 'The Rainbow Feather.' It is a brilliant, stirring -adventure, showing the author's prodigious inventiveness, his well of -imagination never running dry." - - 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 - - - THE PAGAN'S CUP - -_The Nashville American_ says: "The plot is intricate with mystery and -probability neatly dovetailed and the solution is a series of surprises -skillfully retarded to whet the interest of the reader. It is -excellently written and the denouement so skillfully concealed that -one's interest and curiosity are kept on edge till the very last. It -will certainly be a popular book with a very large class of readers." - - 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 - - - THE MANDARIN'S FAN - -_The Nashville American_ says: "The book is most attractive and -thoroughly novel in plot and construction. The mystery of the curious -fan, and its being the key to such wealth and power is decidedly -original and unique. Nearly every character in the book seems possible -of accusation. It is just the sort of plot in which Hume is at his best. -It is a complex tangle, full of splendid climaxes. Few authors have a -charm equal to that of Mr. Hume's mystery tales." - - 12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25 - - - G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY - PUBLISHERS NEW YORK - - * * * * * * - -THE RED WINDOW - -[Illustration: "THERE HE SAW HIS GRANDFATHER SEATED BY THE FIRE WITH A -HANDKERCHIEF ROUND HIS NECK." - -(_Frontispiece._) Page 63.] - - -THE RED WINDOW - -by - -FERGUS HUME - -Author of -"The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," "The Rainbow Feather," -"A Coin of Edward VII," "The Pagan's Cup," "Claude -Duval of Ninety-Five," etc., etc. - -With Frontispiece - - - - - - - -[Illustration] - -G. W. Dillingham Company -Publishers New York - -Copyright, 1904, by -G. W. Dillingham Company -Entered at Stationers' Hall - -_The Red Window_ _Issued May, 1904_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. Comrades 9 - - II. Sir Simon Gore 23 - - III. The Will 38 - - IV. A Strange Adventure 50 - - V. Lost in the Darkness 64 - - VI. A Maiden Gentlewoman 77 - - VII. Bernard's Friends 90 - - VIII. Bernard's Enemies 103 - - IX. At Cove Castle 115 - - X. A Statement of the Case 129 - - XI. Mrs. Gilroy's Past 142 - - XII. The New Page 155 - - XIII. A Consultation 170 - - XIV. Love in Exile 183 - - XV. The Past of Alice 195 - - XVI. The Unexpected 208 - - XVII. The Diary 221 - - XVIII. Tolomeo's Story 232 - - XIX. Plots and Counterplots 245 - - XX. A Confession 259 - - XXI. Young Judas 276 - - XXII. The Truth 291 - - XXIII. A Year Later 309 - - - - - The Red Window - - CHAPTER I - - COMRADES - - -"Hullo, Gore!" - -The young soldier stopped, started, colored with annoyance, and with a -surprised expression turned to look on the other soldier who had -addressed him. After a moment's scrutiny of the stranger's genial smile -he extended his hand with pleased recognition. "Conniston," said he, "I -thought you were in America." - -"So I am; so don't call me Conniston at the pitch of your voice, old -boy. His lordship of that name is camping on Californian slopes for a -big game shoot. The warrior who stands before you is Dick West of the ----- Lancers, the old Come-to-the-Fronts. And what are you doing as an -Imperial Yeoman, Gore?" - -"Not that name," said the other, with an anxious glance around. "Like -yourself, I don't want to be known." - -"Oh! So you are sailing under false colors also?" - -"Against my will, Conniston--I mean West. I am Corporal Bernard." - -"Hum!" said Lord Conniston, with an approving nod. "You have kept your -Christian name, I see." - -"It is all that remains of my old life," replied Gore, bitterly. "But -your title, Conniston?" - -"Has disappeared," said the lancer, good-humoredly, "until I can make -enough money to gild it." - -"Do you hope to do that on a private's pay?" - -West shrugged his shoulders. "I hope to fight my way during the war to a -general's rank. With that and a V.C., an old castle and an older title, -I may catch a dollar heiress by the time the Boers give in." - -"You don't put in your good looks, Conniston," said Bernard, smiling. - -"Dollar heiresses don't buy what's in the shop-windows, old man. But -won't you explain your uniform and dismal looks?" - -Gore laughed. "My dismal looks have passed away since we have met so -opportunely," he said, looking across the grass. "Come and sit down. We -have much to say to one another." - -Conniston and Gore--they used the old names in preference to the -new--walked across the grass to an isolated seat under a leafless elm. -The two old friends had met near the magazine in Hyde Park, on the -borders of the Serpentine, and the meeting was as unexpected as -pleasant. It was a gray, damp October day, and the trees were raining -yellow, brown and red leaves on the sodden ground. Yet a breath of -summer lingered in the atmosphere, and there was a warmth in the air -which had lured many people to the Park. Winter was coming fast, and the -place, untidy with withered leaves, bare of flowers, and dismal under a -sombre, windy sky, looked unattractive enough. But the two did not mind -the dreary day. Summer--the summer of youth--was in their hearts, and, -recalling their old school friendship, they smiled on one another as -they sat down. In the distance a few children were playing, their -nursemaids comparing notes or chatting with friends or stray policemen, -so there was no one near to overhear what they had to say. A number of -fashionable carriages rolled along the road, and occasionally someone -they knew would pass. But vehicles and people belonged to the old world -out of which they had stepped into the new, and they sat like a couple -of Peris at the gate of Paradise, but less discontented. - -Both the young men were handsome in their several ways. The yeoman was -tall, slender, dark and markedly quiet in his manner. His clear-cut face -was clean-shaven; he had black hair, dark blue eyes, put in--as the -Irish say--with a dirty finger, and his figure was admirably -proportioned. In his khaki he looked a fine specimen of a man in his -twenty-fifth year. But his expression was stern, even bitter, and there -were thoughtful furrows on his forehead which should not have been there -at his age. Conniston noted these, and concluded silently that the world -had gone awry with his formerly sunny-faced friend. At Eton, Gore had -always been happy and good-tempered. - -Conniston himself formed a contrast to his companion. He was not tall, -but slightly-built and wiry, alert in his manner and quick in his -movements. As fair as Gore was dark, he wore a small light mustache, -which he pulled restlessly when excited. In his smart, tight-fitting -uniform he looked a natty jimp soldier, and his reduced position did not -seem to affect his spirits. He smiled and joked and laughed and bubbled -over with delight on seeing his school chum again. Gore was also -delighted, but, being quieter, did not reveal his pleasure so openly. - -When they were seated, the lancer produced an ornate silver case, far -too extravagant for a private, and offered Gore a particularly excellent -cigarette. "I have a confiding tobacconist," said Conniston, "who -supplies me with the best, in the hope that I'll pay him some day. I can -stand a lot, but bad tobacco is beyond my powers of endurance. I'm a -self-indulgent beast, Gore!" - -Gore lighted up. "How did your tobacconist know you?" he asked. - -"Because a newly-grown mustache wasn't a sufficient disguise. I walked -into the shop one day hoping he was out. But he chanced to be in, and -immediately knew me. I made him promise to hold his tongue, and said I -had volunteered for the war. He's a good chap, and never told a soul. -Oh, my aunt!" chattered Conniston. "What would my noble relatives say if -they saw me in this kit?" - -"You are supposed to be in California?" - -"That's so--shootin'. But I'm quartered at Canterbury, and only come up -to town every now and again. Of course I take care to keep out of the -fashionable world, so no one's spotted me yet." - -"Your officers!" - -"There's no one in the regiment I know. The Tommies take me for a -gentleman who has gone wrong, and I keep to their society. Not that a -private has much to do with the officers. They take little notice of me, -and I've learned to say, 'Sir!' quite nicely," grinned Conniston. - -"What on earth made you enlist?" - -"I might put the same question to you, Bernard?" - -"I'll tell you my story later. Out with yours, old boy." - -"Just the same authoritative manner," said Conniston, shrugging. "I -never did have a chap order me about as you do. If you weren't such a -good chap you'd have been a bully with that domineering way you have. I -wonder how you like knuckling under to orders?" - -"He who cannot serve is not fit to command," quoted Gore, sententiously. -"Go on with the story." - -"It's not much of a story. I came in for the title three years ago, when -I was rising twenty. But I inherited nothing else. My respected -grandfather made away with nearly all the family estates, and my poor -father parted with the rest. Upon my word," said the young lord, -laughing, "with two such rascals as progenitors, it's wonderful I should -be as good as I am. They drank and gambled and--" - -"Don't, Conniston. After all your father _is_ your father." - -"_Was_ my father, you mean. He's dead and buried in the family vault. I -own that much property--all I have." - -"Where is it?" - -"At Cove Castle in the Essex Marshes!" - -"I remember. You told me about it at school. Cove Castle is ten miles -from Hurseton." - -"And Hurseton is where your uncle, Sir Simon, lives." - -Gore looked black. "Yes," he said shortly. "Go on!" - -Conniston drew his own conclusions from the frown, rattled on in his -usual cheerful manner. "I came into the title as I said, but scarcely an -acre is there attached to it, save those of mud and water round Cove -Castle. I had a sum of ready money left by my grandmother--old Lady -Tain, you remember--and I got through that as soon as possible. It -didn't last long," added the profligate, grinning; "but I had a glorious -time while it lasted. Then the smash came. I took what was left and went -to America. Things got worse there, so, on hearing the war was on, I -came back and enlisted as Dick West. I revealed myself only to my -lawyer; and, of course, my tobacconist--old Taberley--knows. But from -paragraphs in the Society papers about my noble self I'm supposed to be -in California. Of course, as I told you, I take jolly good care to keep -out of everyone's way. I'm off to the Cape in a month, and then if -Fortune favors me with a commission and a V.C. I'll take up the title -again." - -"You still hold the castle, then?" - -"Yes. It's the last of the old property. Old Mother Moon looks after it -for me. She's a horrid old squaw, but devoted to me. So she ought to be. -I got that brat of a grandson of hers a situation as messenger boy to -old Taberley. Not that he's done much good. He's out of his place now, -and from all accounts, is a regular young brute." - -"Does he know you have enlisted?" - -"What, young Judas--I call him Judas," said Conniston, "because he's -such a criminal kid. No, he doesn't. Taberley had to turn him away for -robbing the till or something. Judas has spoiled his morals by reading -penny novels, and by this time I shouldn't wonder if he hasn't embarked -on a career of crime like a young Claude Duval. No, Gore, he doesn't -know. I'm glad of it--as he would tell Mother Moon, and then she'd howl -the castle down at the thought of the head of the West family being -brought so low." - -"West is your family name, isn't it?" - -"It is; and Richard is my own name--Richard Grenville Plantagenet West, -Lord Conniston. That's my title. But I dropped all frills, and here I -smoke, Dick West at your service, Bernard, my boy. So now you've asked -me enough questions, what's your particular lie?" - -"Dick, Dick, you are as hair-brained as ever. I never could--" - -"No," interrupted Conniston, "you never could sober me. Bless you, -Bernard, it's better to laugh than frown, though you don't think so." - -Gore pitched away the stump of his cigarette and laughed somewhat sadly. -"I have cause to frown," said he, wrinkling his forehead. "My -grandfather has cut me off with a shilling." - -"The deuce he has," said Conniston coolly. "Take another cigarette, old -boy, and buck up. Now that you haven't a cent, you'll be able to carve -your way to fortune." - -"That's a philosophic way to look at the matter, Dick." - -"The only way," rejoined Conniston, emphatically. "When you've cut your -moorings you can make for mid-ocean and see life. It's storm that tries -the vessel, Bernard, and you're too good a chap to lie up in port as a -dull country squire." - -Bernard looked round, surprised. It was not usual to hear the -light-hearted Dicky moralize thus. He was as sententious as Touchstone, -and for the moment Gore, who usually gave advice, found himself -receiving it. The two seemed to have changed places. Dick noticed the -look and slapped Gore on the back. "I've been seeing life since we -parted at Eton, old boy," said he, "and it--the trouble of it, I -mean--has hammered me into shape." - -"It hasn't made you despondent, though." - -"And it never will," said Conniston, emphatically, "until I meet with -the woman who refuses to marry me. Then I'll howl." - -"You haven't met the woman yet?" - -"No. But you have. I can see it in the telltale blush. Bless me, old -Gore, how boyish you are. I haven't blushed for years." - -"You hardened sinner. Yes! There is a woman, and she is the cause of my -trouble." - -"The usual case," said the worldly-wise Richard. "Who is she?" - -"Her name is Alice," said Gore, slowly, his eyes on the damp grass. - -"A pretty unromantic, domestic name. 'Don't you remember sweet Alice, -Ben Bolt?'" - -"I'm always remembering her," said Gore, angrily. "Don't quote that -song, Dick. I used to sing it to her. Poor Alice." - -"What's her other name?" - -"Malleson--Alice Malleson!" - -"Great Scott!" said Conniston, his jaw falling. "The niece of Miss -Berengaria Plantagenet?" - -"Yes! Do you know--?" Here Gore broke off, annoyed with himself. "Of -course. How could I forget? Miss Plantagenet is your aunt." - -"My rich aunt, who could leave me five thousand a year if she'd only -die. But I daresay she'll leave it to Alice with the light-brown hair, -and you'll marry her." - -"Conniston, don't be an ass. If you know the story of Miss Malleson's -life, you must know that there isn't the slightest chance of her -inheriting the money." - -"Ah, but, you see, Bernard, I don't know the story." - -"You know Miss Plantagenet. She sometimes talks of you." - -"How good of her, seeing that I've hardly been in her company for the -last ten years. I remember going to "The Bower" when a small boy, and -making myself ill with plums in a most delightful kitchen garden. I was -scolded by a wonderful old lady as small as a fairy and rather like one -in looks--a regular bad fairy." - -"No! no. She is very kind." - -"She wasn't to me," confessed Conniston; "but I daresay she will have -more respect for me now that I'm the head of the family. Lord! to think -of that old woman's money." - -"Conniston, she would be angry if she knew you had enlisted. She is so -proud of her birth and of her connection with the Wests. Why don't you -call and tell her--" - -"No, indeed. I'll do nothing of the sort. And don't you say a word -either, Bernard. I'm going to carve out my own fortune. I don't want -money seasoned with advice from that old cat." - -"She is not an old cat!" - -"She must be, for she wasn't a kitten when I saw her years ago. But -about Miss Malleson. Who is she? I know she's Miss Plantagenet's niece. -But who is she?" - -"She is not the niece--only an adopted one. She has been with Miss -Plantagenet for the last nine years, and came from a French convent. -Miss Plantagenet treats her like a niece, but it is an understood thing -that Alice is to receive no money." - -"That looks promising for me," said Conniston, pulling his mustache, -"but my old aunt is so healthy that I'll be gray in the head before I -get a cent. So you've fallen in love with Alice?" - -"Yes," sighed Gore, drawing figures with his cane. "I love her dearly -and she loves me. But my grandfather objects. I insisted upon marrying -Alice, so he cut me off with a shilling. I expect the money will go to -my cousin, Julius Beryl, and, like you, I'll have to content myself with -a barren title." - -"But why is Sir Simon so hard, Gore?" - -Bernard frowned again. "Do you notice how dark I am?" he asked. - -"Yes! You have rather an Italian look." - -"That's clever of you, Dick. My mother was Italian, the daughter of a -noble Florentine family; but in England was nothing but a poor -governess. My father married her, and Sir Simon--_his_ father--cut him -off. Then when my parents died, my grandfather sent for me, and brought -me up. We have never been good friends," sighed Bernard again, "and when -I wanted to marry Alice there was a row. I fear I lost my temper. You -know from my mother I inherit a fearful temper, nor do I think the Gores -are the calmest of people. However, Sir Simon swore that he wouldn't -have another _mesalliance_ in the family and--" - -"_Mesalliance?_" - -"Yes! No one knows who Alice is, and Miss Plantagenet--who does -know--won't tell." - -"You said no one knew, and now you say Miss Plantagenet does," said -Conniston, laughing. "You're getting mixed, Bernard. Well, so you and -Sir Simon had a row?" - -"A royal row. He ordered me out of the house. I fear I said things -to him I should not have said, but my blood was boiling at the -insults he heaped on Alice. And you know Sir Simon is a miser. My -extravagance--though I really wasn't very extravagant--might have done -something to get his back up. However, the row came off, and I was -turned away. I came to town, and could see nothing better to do than -enlist, so I have been in the Yeomanry for the last four months, and -have managed to reach the rank of corporal. I go out to the war soon." - -"We'll go together," said Conniston, brightening, "and then when you -come back covered with glory, Sir Simon--" - -"No. He won't relent unless I give up Alice, and that I will not do. -What does it matter if Alice is nameless? I love her, and that is enough -for me!" - -"And too much for your grandfather, evidently. But what about that -cousin of yours, you used to talk of? Lucy something--" - -"Lucy Randolph. Oh, she's a dear little girl, and has been an angel. She -is trying to soothe Sir Simon, and all through has stood my friend. I -made her promise that she would put a lamp in the Red Window when Sir -Simon relented--if he ever does relent." - -Conniston looked puzzled. "The Red Window?" - -"Ah! You don't know the legend of the Red Window. There is a window of -that sort at the Hall, which was used during the Parliamentary wars to -advise loyal cavaliers of danger. It commands a long prospect down the -side avenue. The story is too long to tell you. But, you see, Conniston, -I can't get near the house, and my only chance of knowing if Sir Simon -is better disposed towards me is by looking from the outside of the park -up to the Red Window. If this shows a red light I know that he is -relenting; if not, he is still angry. I have been once or twice to the -Hall," said Gore, shaking his head, "but no light has been shown." - -"What a roundabout way of letting you know things. Can't Lucy write?" - -Gore shook his head again. "No. You see, she is engaged to Julius, who -hates me." - -"Oh, that Beryl man. He comes in for the money?" - -"Now that I'm chucked I suppose he will," said Bernard, gloomily; "and I -don't want to get poor Lucy into his black books, as he isn't a nice -sort of chap. He won't thank her if she tries to bias the old man in my -favor. And then there's the housekeeper who doesn't like me--Mrs. Gilroy -her name is. She and Julius will both keep Sir Simon's temper alive. I -can't write to him, or my letter would be intercepted and destroyed by -Mrs. Gilroy. Lucy can't write me because of Julius, so my only chance of -knowing if the old man is thinking better of his determination is by -watching for the red light. I shall go down again twice before I leave -for Africa." - -"And if you see the red light you won't stick to soldiering?" - -"Yes, I will. But I'll then walk boldly up to the Hall and tell Sir -Simon how sorry I am. But in any case I intend to fight for my country. -Alice herself wouldn't ask me to be a coward and leave. I go to the Cape -with you, Conniston," said Bernard, rising. - -"Good old chap," said Conniston, delighted, "you're the only fellow I'd -care to chum up with. I have often thought of you since we parted. But -you rarely wrote to me." - -"You were the better correspondent, I admit," said Gore, as they walked -across the bridge. "I am ashamed I did not continue our school -friendship, as we always were such chums, but--" - -"The inevitable woman. Ah, Delilah always comes between David and -Jonathan." - -"Don't call Alice by that name!" fired up Gore. - -"Well, then, I won't. But don't get in a wax. What a fire-brand you are, -Gore! Just as fierce as you were at school." - -"Yes," said Bernard, quieting down. "I only hope my bad temper will not -ruin me some day. I tell you, Conniston, when Sir Simon pitched into me -I felt inclined to throw something at his head. He was most insulting. I -didn't mind what he said about me, but when he began to slang Alice I -told him I'd pitch him out of the window if he didn't stop. And I said -many other foolish things." - -"Shouldn't do that. He's an old man." - -"I know--I know. I was a fool. But you have no idea how readily my -temper gets the better of me. I could strangle anyone who said a word -against my Alice." - -"Well, don't strangle me," said Conniston, laughing. "I won't call her -Delilah again, I promise you. But about your Red Window business--you -needn't go down to the Hall for a week or so." - -"Why not?" - -"Because Sir Simon is in town." - -"Nonsense. He never comes to town." - -"He has this time. Queerly enough, his lawyers are mine. I saw him at -the office and asked who he was. Durham, my lawyer friend, told me." - -"How long ago was that?" - -"Three days. I came up on business, and was in plains!" - -"Plains?" - -"What! you a soldier and don't know plain clothes are called so. You are -an old ass, Bernard. But, I say, I've got digs of a sort hereabouts. -Come and dine with me to-night." - -"But I haven't any dress clothes. I got rid of them, thinking I was -going to the Cape sooner." - -"Then come in khaki. You look A 1 in it. Here's the address," and -Conniston hastily scribbled something on his card. "I shall expect you -at seven." - -The two friends parted with a hearty handshake, and Gore walked away -feeling happier than he had been. Conniston, gazing after him, felt a -tug at his coat. He looked down, and saw a small boy. "Judas," said -Conniston, "you young brute! How did you know me?" - - - - - CHAPTER II - - SIR SIMON GORE - - -Avarice, according to Byron, is a gentlemanly vice appertaining to old -age. It certainly acted like Aaron's rod with Sir Simon, as it swallowed -up all his more youthful sins. During the early part of the Victorian -epoch, the old man had been a spendthrift and a rake. Now, he never -looked agreeably upon a woman, and the prettier they were the more he -frowned upon them. As he was close upon eighty, it was not to be -wondered at that his blood ran thin and cold; still, he might have -retained the courtesy for which he was famous in his hot youth. But he -eschewed female society in the main, and was barely civil to his pretty, -fascinating niece, who attended to him and bore with his ill-humors. -Only Mrs. Gilroy succeeded in extorting civil words from him, but then -Mrs. Gilroy was necessary to his comfort, being a capital nurse and as -quiet as a cat about the house. Where his own pleasure was concerned Sir -Simon could be artful. - -Long ago he had given up luxury. He never put liquor to his withered -lips, he ate only the plainest food, and surrounded himself with merely -the bare necessities of life. All his aims were to gather money, to see -it increase, to buy land, to screw the last penny out of unwilling -tenants, and to pick up a farthing, in whatever mud it might be lying. -He never helped the poor, he grudged repairs to the property, he kept -Lucy on short commons, and expressed such violent opinions concerning -the rector's tithes that the poor man was afraid to come near him. As -Sir Simon, like a godless old pagan, never went to church, the absence -of the clerical element at the Hall troubled him little. He was a -typical miser in looks, being bent, withered and dry. As a young man he -had bought, in his spendthrift days, a great number of suits, and these -he was wearing out in his old age. The garments, once fashionable, -looked queer in the eyes of a younger generation; but Sir Simon minded -no one. He was always scrupulously dressed in his antique garb, and -looked, as the saying goes, as neat as a new pin. His health was -tolerable, although he suffered from rheumatism and a constant cough. -Owing to his total abstinence, he was free from gout, but could not have -been worse tempered had he indeed suffered, as he assuredly deserved to. -With his withered skin, his thin, high nose, his pinched features and -his bent form he looked anything but agreeable. When walking he -supported himself with an ebony cane, and had been known on occasions to -use it on the backs of underlings. From this practice, however, he had -desisted, since the underlings, forgetful of the feudal system, brought -actions for assault, which resulted in Sir Simon losing money. As the -old Baronet said, radical opinions were ruining the country; for why -should the lower orders not submit to the stick? - -It was rarely that this agreeable old gentleman came to town. He lived -at the Hall in Essex in savage seclusion, and there ruled over a -diminished household with a rod of iron. Mrs. Gilroy, who had been with -him for many years, was--outwardly--as penurious as her master, so he -trusted her as much as he trusted anyone. What between the grim old man -and the silent housekeeper, poor Lucy Randolph, who was only a -connection, had a dreary time. But then, as the daughter of Sir Simon's -niece, she was regarded as an interloper, and the old man grumbled at -having to support poor relations. Bernard he had tolerated as his heir, -Lucy he frankly disliked as a caterpillar. Often would he call her this -name. - -As usual, Sir Simon came to town with the least expense to himself, -since it agonized him to spend a penny. But an old friend of his, more -open-handed than the baronet, had lent him his town house. This was a -small residence in a quiet Kensington square, by no means fashionable. -The central gardens, surrounded by rusty iron railings, were devoid of -flowers and filled with ragged elms and sycamores, suffered to grow -amidst rank grass untrimmed and unattended. The roads around were green -with weeds, and the houses appeared to be deserted. Indeed, many of them -were, as few people cared to live in so dull a neighborhood; but others -were occupied by elderly folk, who loved the quietness and retirement. -Crimea square--its name hinted at its age--was a kind of backwater into -which drifted human derelicts. A few yards away the main thoroughfare -roared with life and pulsed with vitality, but the dwellers in the -square lived as in the enchanted wood of the sleeping beauty. - -No. 32 was the house occupied by Sir Simon, and it was distinguished -from its neighbors by a coat of white paint. Its spurious, smart air was -quite out of keeping with the neighborhood, and Sir Simon made ironical -remarks when he saw its attempt at being up-to-date. But the house was -small, and, although furnished in a gimcrack way, was good enough for a -month's residence. Moreover, since he paid no rent, this enhanced its -value in his avaricious eyes. It may be mentioned that the servants of -the owner--a cook, a housemaid and a pageboy--had stopped on to oblige -Sir Simon, and were ruled over by Mrs. Gilroy, much to their disgust. -The housekeeper was by no means a pleasant mistress, and turned their -intended holiday into a time of particularly hard work. - -It was about the servants that Mrs. Gilroy spoke to her master one -morning shortly after the occupation of the house. Sir Simon, accurately -dressed as usual, and looking like a character out of Dickens as -delineated by Phiz, was seated beside a comfortable fire supping a cup -of plasmon cocoa, as containing the most nutriment in the least -expensive form. While enjoying it, he mentally calculated various sums -owing from various tenants about which he had come to see his lawyers. - -The room was of no great size, on the ground floor, and had but two -windows, which looked out on the dreary, untidy gardens. Like the -exterior of the house, it had been newly painted and decorated, and was -also furnished in a cheap way with chairs and tables, sofas and cabinets -attractive to the uneducated eye, but detestable to anyone who could -appreciate art. The scheme of color was garish, and, but that the blinds -were pulled half-way down, so as to exclude too searching a light, would -have jarred on Sir Simon's nerves. Lucy Randolph, who sat reading near -the window, shuddered at the newness and veneer of her surroundings and -thought regretfully of the lovely, mellow old Hall, where everything was -in keeping and hallowed by antiquity. All the same, this too -brilliantly-cheap room was cosy and comfortable, bright and cheery, and -a pleasing contrast to the foggy, gray, damp weather. Perhaps it was -this contrast which its decorator had desired to secure. - -Mrs. Gilroy, with folded hands, stood at her master's elbow, a tall, -thin, silent, demure woman with downcast eyes. Plainly dressed in black -silk, somewhat worn, and with carefully-mended lace, she looked like a -lady who had seen better days. Her hair, and eyes, and skin, and lips, -were all of a drab color, by no means pleasing, and she moved with the -stealthy step of a cat. Indeed, the servants openly expressed their -opinion that she was one, and she certainly had a somewhat feline look. -But, with all her softness and nun-like meekness, an occasional glance -from her light eyes showed that she could scratch when necessary. No one -knew who she was or where she came from, but she looked like a woman -with a history. What that was only she and Sir Simon knew, and neither -was communicative. Lucy Randolph hated her, and indeed no love was lost -between the two. Mrs. Gilroy looked on Lucy as a pauper living on Sir -Simon's charity, and Miss Randolph regarded the silent housekeeper as a -spy. Each annoyed the other on every occasion in that skilful way known -to the sex. But the war was carried on out of the old man's sight. That -autocrat would speedily have put an end to it had they dared to skirmish -in his presence. - -"Well! well! well!" snapped Sir Simon, who talked something like George -III. in reiterating his words. "What's the matter? What?" - -"I have to complain of the housemaid Jane, sir." - -"Then don't. I pay you to keep the servants quiet, not to bother me with -their goings-on. Well! well! well!" somewhat inconsistently, "what's -Jane been doing?" - -"Receiving a follower--a soldier--one of those new young men who are -going to the war." - -"An Imperial Yeoman?" put in Miss Randolph, looking up with interest. - -"Yes, Miss," responded Mrs. Gilroy, not looking round. "Cook tells me -the young man comes nearly every evening, and makes love to Jane!" - -"What! what!" said the baronet, setting down his cup irritably. "Tell -the hussy to go at once. Love?" This in a tone of scorn. "As though I've -not had enough worry over that with Bernard. Tell her to go." - -Mrs. Gilroy shook her head. "We can't dismiss her, sir. She belongs to -the house, and Mr. Jeffrey"-- - -"I'll see him about it later. If he knew he certainly would not allow -such things. A soldier--eh--what? Turn him out, Gilroy, turn him out! -Won't have it, won't have him! There! you can go." - -"Will you be out to-day, sir?" - -"Yes, I go to see my lawyers. Do you think I come to town to waste time, -Gilroy? Go away." - -But the housekeeper did not seem eager to go. She cast a look on Lucy -eloquent of a desire to be alone with Sir Simon. That look Lucy took no -notice of, although she understood it plainly. She suspected Mrs. Gilroy -of hating Julius Beryl and of favoring Bernard. Consequently, all the -influence of Mrs. Gilroy would be put forth to help the exiled heir. -Lucy was fond of Bernard, but she was engaged to Julius, and, dragged -both ways by liking and duty, she was forced to a great extent to remain -neutral. But she did not intend to let Mrs. Gilroy have the honor and -glory of bringing Bernard back to the Hall. Therefore she kept her seat -by the window and her eyes on her book. Mrs. Gilroy tightened her thin -lips and accepted defeat, for the moment. A ring at the door gave her an -excuse to go. - -"It's Julius," said Lucy, peeping out. - -"What does he want?" asked Sir Simon, crossly. "Tell him to wait, -Gilroy. I can't see him at once. Lucy, stop here, I want to speak." - -The housekeeper left the room to detain Mr. Beryl, and Lucy obediently -resumed her seat. She was a handsome, dark girl, with rather a high -color and a temper to match. But she knew when she was well off and kept -her temper in check for fear of Sir Simon turning her adrift. He would -have done so without scruple had it suited him. Lucy was therefore -astute and assumed a meekness she was far from possessing. Mrs. Gilroy -saw through her, but Lucy--as the saying goes--pulled the wool over the -old man's eyes. - -Sir Simon took a turn up and down the room. "What about Bernard?" he -asked, abruptly stopping before her. - -Lucy looked up with an innocent smile. "Dear Bernard!" she said. - -"Do you know where he is?" asked the baronet, taking no notice of the -sweet smile and sweet speech. - -"No, he has not written to me." - -"But he has to that girl. You know her?" - -"Alice! yes, but Alice doesn't like me. She refuses to speak to me about -Bernard. You see," said Lucy, pensively, "I am engaged to Julius, and as -you have sent Bernard away--" - -"Julius comes in for my money, is that it?" - -"Not in my opinion," said Miss Randolph, frankly, "but Alice Malleson -thinks so." - -"Then she thinks rightly." Lucy started at this and colored with -surprise at the outspoken speech. "Since Bernard has behaved so badly, -Julius shall be my heir. The one can have the title, the other the -money. All the same I don't want Bernard to starve. I daresay Julius -knows where he is, Lucy. Find out, and then I can send the boy something -to go on with." - -"Oh!" said Lucy, starting to her feet and clasping her hands, "the Red -Window,--I mean." - -"I should very much like to know what you _do_ mean," said Sir Simon, -eyeing her. "The Red Window! Are you thinking of that ridiculous old -legend of Sir Aymas and the ghost?" - -"Yes," assented Miss Randolph, "and of Bernard also." - -"What has he to do with the matter?" - -"He asked me, if you showed any signs of relenting, to put a light in -the Red Window at the Hall. Then he would come back." - -"Oh!" Sir Simon did not seem to be displeased. "Then you can put the -light in the window when we go back in three weeks." - -"You will forgive him?" - -"I don't say that. But I want to see him settled in some reputable way. -After all," added the old man, sitting down, "I have been hard on the -boy. He is young, and, like all fools, has fallen in love with a pretty -face. This Miss Malleson--if she has any right to a name at all--is not -the bride I should have chosen for Bernard. Now you, my dear Lucy--" - -"I am engaged to Julius," she interposed quickly, and came towards the -fire. "I love Julius." - -"Hum! there's no accounting for tastes. I think Bernard is the better of -the two." - -"Bernard has always been a trouble," said Lucy, "and Julius has never -given you a moment's uneasiness." - -"Hum," said Sir Simon again, his eyes fixed on the fire. "I don't -believe Julius is so good as you make him out to be. Now Bernard--" - -"Uncle," said Lucy, who had long ago been instructed to call her -relative by this name, "why don't you make it up with Bernard? I assure -you Julius is so good, he doesn't want to have the money." - -"And you?" The old man looked at her sharply. - -"I don't either. Julius has his own little income, and earns enough as -an architect to live very comfortably. Let me marry Julius, dear uncle, -and we will be happy. Then you can take back Bernard and let him marry -dear, sweet Alice." - -"I doubt one woman when she praises another," said Sir Simon, dryly. -"Alice may be very agreeable." - -"She is beautiful and clever." - -The baronet looked keenly at Lucy's flushed face, trying to fathom her -reason for praising the other woman. He failed, for Miss Randolph's face -was as innocent as that of a child. "She is no doubt a paragon, my -dear," he said; "but I won't have her marry Bernard. By this time the -young fool must have come to his senses. Find out from Julius where he -is, and--" - -"Julius may not know!" - -"If Julius wants my money he will keep an eye on Bernard." - -"So as to keep Bernard away," said Lucy, impetuously. "Ah, uncle, how -can you? Julius doesn't want the money--" - -"You don't know that." - -"Ask him yourself then." - -"I will." Sir Simon rang the bell to intimate to Mrs. Gilroy that Julius -could be shown up. "If he doesn't want it, of course I can leave it to -someone else." - -"To Bernard." - -"Perhaps. And yet I don't know," fumed Sir Simon. "The rascal defied me! -He offered to pitch me out of the window if I said a word against that -Alice of his. I want Bernard to marry you--" - -"I am engaged to Julius." - -"So you said before," snapped the other. "Well, then, Miss Perry. She is -an heiress." - -"And as plain as Alice is handsome." - -"What does that matter? She is good-tempered. However, it doesn't -matter. I won't be friends with Bernard unless he does what I tell him. -He must give up Alice and marry Miss Perry. Try the Red Window scheme -when you go back to the Hall, Lucy. It will bring Bernard to see me, as -you say." - -"It will," said Lucy, but by no means willingly. "Bernard comes down at -times to the Hall to watch for the light. But I can make a Red Window -here." - -"Bernard doesn't know the house." - -"I am sure he does," said Lucy. "He has to go to the lawyers for what -little money he inherits from his father, and Mr. Durham may have told -him you are here. Then if I put the light behind a red piece of paper or -chintz, Bernard will come here." - -"It is all romantic rubbish," grumbled the old man, warming his hands. -"But do what you like, child. I want to give Bernard a last chance." -At this moment Julius appeared. He was a slim young man with a mild -face, rather expressionless. His hair and eyes were brown. He was -irreproachably dressed, and did not appear to have much brain power. -Also, from the expression of his eyes he was of a sly nature. Finally, -Mr. Beryl was guarded in his speech, being quite of the opinion that -speech was given to hide thoughts. He saluted his uncle affectionately, -kissed Lucy's cheek in a cold way, and sat down to observe what a damp, -dull day it was and how bad for Sir Simon's rheumatism. A more -colorless, timid, meek young saint it would have been hard to find in -the whole of London. - -"I have brought you some special snuff," he said, extending a packet to -his host. "It comes from Taberley's." - -"Ah, thank you. I know the shop. A very good one! Do you get your cigars -there, Julius?" - -"I never smoke," corrected the good young man, coldly. - -Sir Simon sneered. "You never do anything manly," he said -contemptuously. "Well, why are you here?" - -"I wish, with your permission, to take Lucy to the theatre on Friday," -said Mr. Beryl. "Mrs. Webber is going with me, and she can act as -chaperon." - -"I should think she needed one herself. A nasty, flirting little cat of -a woman," said Sir Simon, rudely. "Would you like to go, Lucy?" - -"If you don't mind, uncle." - -"Bah!" said the old man with a snarl. "How good you two are. Where is -the theatre, Julius?" - -"Near at hand. The Curtain Theatre." - -"Ah! That's only two streets away. What is the play?" - -"_As You Like It_, by--" - -"By Chaucer, I suppose," snapped the old man. "Don't you think I know my -Shakespeare? What time will you call for Lucy?" - -"At half-past seven in the carriage with Mrs. Webber." - -"Your own carriage?" - -"I am not rich enough to afford one," said Julius, smiling. "Mrs. -Webber's carriage, uncle. We will call for Lucy and bring her back -safely at eleven or thereabouts." - -"Very good; but no suppers, mind. I don't approve of Mrs. Webber taking -Lucy to the Cecil or the Savoy." - -"There is no danger of that, uncle," said Lucy, delighted at gaining -permission. - -"I hope not," said the old man ungraciously. "You can go, Lucy. I want -to speak to Julius." - -A look, unseen by the baronet, passed between the two, and then Lucy -left the room. When alone, Sir Simon turned to his nephew. "Where is -Bernard?" he asked. - -A less clever man than Julius would have fenced and feigned surprise, -but this astute young gentleman answered at once. "He has enlisted in -the Imperial Yeomanry and goes out to the war in a month." - -Sir Simon turned pale and rose. "He must not--he must not," he said, -considerably agitated. "He will be killed, and then--" - -"What does it matter?" said Julius coolly--"you have disinherited -him--at least, I understand so." - -"He defied me," shivered the baronet, warming his hands again and with a -pale face; "but I did not think he would enlist. I won't have him go to -the war. He must be bought out." - -"I think he would refuse to be bought out now," said Beryl, dryly. "I -don't fancy Bernard, whatever his faults, is a coward." - -"My poor boy!" said Sir Simon, who was less hard than he looked. "It is -your fault that this has happened, Julius." - -"Mine, uncle?" - -"Yes. You told me about Miss Malleson." - -"I knew you would not approve of the match," said Julius, quietly. - -"And you wanted me to cut off Bernard with a shilling--" - -"Not for my own sake," said Julius, calmly. "You need not leave a penny -to me, Sir Simon." - -"Don't you want the money? It's ten thousand a year." - -"I should like it very much," assented Beryl, frankly; "but I do not -want it at the price of my self-respect." - -The old man looked at him piercingly, but could learn nothing from his -inscrutable countenance. But he did not trust Julius in spite of his -meek looks, and inwardly resolved to meet craft by craft. He bore a -grudge against this young man for having brought about the banishment of -his grandson, and felt inclined to punish him. Yet if Julius did not -want the money, Sir Simon did not know how to wound him. Yet he doubted -if Julius scorned wealth so much as he pretended; therefore he arranged -how to circumvent him. - -"Very well," he said, "since Bernard has disobeyed me, you alone can be -my heir. You will have the money without any loss of your self-respect. -Come with me this morning to see Durham." - -"I am at your service, uncle," said Julius, quietly, although his eyes -flashed. "But Bernard?" - -"We can talk of him later. Come!" - -The attentive Beryl helped Sir Simon on with his overcoat and wrapped a -muffler round his throat. Then he went out to select a special -four-wheeler instead of sending the page-boy. When he was absent, Mrs. -Gilroy appeared in the hall where Sir Simon waited, and, seeing he was -alone, came close to him. - -"Sir," she said quietly, "this girl Jane has described the young man's -looks who comes to see her." - -"Well! well! well!" - -"The young man--the soldier," said Mrs. Gilroy, with emphasis--"has come -only since we arrived here. Jane met him a week before our arrival, and -since we have been in the house this soldier has visited her often." - -"What has all this to do with me?" asked Sir Simon. - -"Because she described the looks of the soldier. Miss Randolph says he -is an Imperial Yeoman." - -Sir Simon started. "Has Miss Randolph seen him?" he asked. - -"No. She only goes by what I said this morning to you. But the -description, Sir Simon--" Here Mrs. Gilroy sank her voice to a whisper -and looked around--"suits Mr. Gore." - -"Bernard! Ah!" Sir Simon caught hold of a chair to steady himself. -"Why--what--yes. Julius said he was an Imperial Yeoman and--" - -"And he comes here to see the housemaid," said Mrs. Gilroy, nodding. - -"To spy out the land," cried the baronet, in a rage. "Do you think that -my grandson would condescend to housemaids? He comes to learn how I am -disposed--if I am ill. The money--the money--all self--self--self!" He -clenched his hand as the front door opened. "Good-bye, Mrs. Gilroy, if -you see this Imperial Yeoman, say I am making a new will," and with a -sneer Sir Simon went out. - -Mrs. Gilroy looked up to heaven and caught sight of Lucy listening on -the stairs. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - THE WILL - - -Mr. Durham was a smart young lawyer of the new school. The business was -an old one and lucrative; but while its present owner was still under -thirty, his father died and he was left solely in charge. Wiseacres -prophesied that, unguided by the shrewdness of the old solicitor, Durham -junior, would lose the greater part, if not all, of his clients. But the -young man had an old head on young shoulders. He was clever and -hard-worked, and, moreover, possessed a great amount of tact. The result -was that he not only retained the old clients of the firm, but secured -new ones, and under his sway the business was more flourishing than -ever. Also Mark Durham did not neglect social duties, and by his charm -of manner, backed by undeniable business qualities, he managed to pick -up many wealthy clients while enjoying himself. He always had an eye to -the main chance, and mingled business judiciously with sober pleasures. - -The office of Durham & Son--the firm still retained the old title -although the son alone owned the business--was near Chancery Lane, a -large, antique house which had been the residence of a noble during the -reign of the Georges. The rooms were nobly proportioned, their ceilings -painted and decorated, and attached to the railings which guarded the -front of the house could still be seen the extinguishers into which -servants had thrust torches in the times they lighted belles and beaux -to splendid sedan chairs. A plate on the front intimated that a famous -author had lived and died within the walls; so Durham & Son were housed -in a way not unbecoming to the dignity of the firm. Mr. Durham's own -room overlooked a large square filled with ancient trees, and was both -well-furnished and well-lighted. Into this Sir Simon and his nephew were -ushered, and here they were greeted by the young lawyer. - -"I hope I see you well, Sir Simon?" said Durham, shaking hands. He was a -smart, well-dressed, handsome young fellow with an up-to-date air, and -formed a striking contrast to the baronet in his antique garb. As the -solicitor spoke he cast a side glance at Beryl, whom he knew slightly, -and he mentally wondered why the old man had brought him along. Sir -Simon had never spoken very well of Julius, but then he rarely said a -good word of anyone. - -"I am as well as can be expected," said Sir Simon, grumpily, taking his -seat near the table, which was covered with books, and papers, and -briefs, and red tape, and all the paraphernalia of legal affairs. "About -that will of mine--" - -"Yes?" inquired Durham, sitting, with another glance at Beryl, and still -more perplexed as to the baronet's motive for bringing the young man. "I -have had it drawn out in accordance with your instructions. It is ready -for signing." - -"Read it." - -"In the presence of--" Durham indicated Beryl in a puzzled way. - -"I can go, uncle, if you wish," said Julius, hastily, and rose. - -"Sit down!" commanded the old man. "You are interested in the will." - -"All the more reason I should not hear it read," said Julius, still on -his feet. - -Sir Simon shrugged his shoulders and turned his back on his too -particular nephew. "Get the will, Durham, and read it." - -It was not the lawyer's business to argue in this especial instance, so -he speedily summoned a clerk. The will was brought, carefully engrossed -on parchment, and Durham rustled the great sheets as he resumed his -seat. "You wish me to read it all?" he asked hesitatingly. - -Sir Simon nodded, and, leaning his chin on the knob of his cane, -disposed himself to listen. Beryl could not suppress an uneasy movement, -which did not escape his uncle's notice, and he smiled in a grim way. -Durham, without further preamble, read the contents of the will, clearly -and deliberately, without as much as a glance in the direction of the -person interested. This was Julius, and he grew pale with pleasure as -the lawyer proceeded. - -The will provided legacies for old servants, but no mention was made of -Mrs. Gilroy, a fact which Beryl noted and secretly wondered at. Various -bequests were made to former friends, and arrangements set forth as to -the administration of the estate. The bulk of the property was left to -Julius Beryl on condition that he married Lucy Randolph, for whom -otherwise no provision was made. The name of Bernard Gore was left out -altogether. When Durham ended he laid down the will with a rather -regretful air, and discreetly stared at the fire. He liked young Gore -and did not care for the architect. Therefore he was annoyed that the -latter should benefit to the exclusion of the former. - -"Good!" said Sir Simon, who had followed the reading with close -attention. "Well?" he asked his nephew. - -Beryl stammered. "I hardly know how to thank you. I am not worthy--" - -"There--there--there!" said the old man tartly. "We understand all that. -Can you suggest any alteration?" - -"No, uncle. The will is perfect." - -"What do you think, Durham?" said Gore, with a dry chuckle. - -"I think," said the lawyer, his eyes still on the fire, "that some -provision should be made for your grandson. He has been taught to -consider himself your heir, and has been brought up in that expectation. -It is hard that, at his age, he should be thrown on the world for--" - -"For disobedience," put in Beryl, meekly. - -Sir Simon chuckled again. "Yes, for disobedience. You are not aware, -Durham, that Bernard wants to marry a girl who has no name and no -parents, and no money--the companion of a crabbed old cat called Miss -Plantagenet." - -"I know," said the young lawyer, nodding. "She is the aunt of Lord -Conniston, who told me about the matter." - -"I thought Lord Conniston was in America," said Julius, sharply. - -"I saw him before he went to America," retorted the solicitor, who did -not intend to tell Beryl that Conniston had been in his office on the -previous day. "Why do you say that? Do you know him?" - -"I know that he has a castle near my uncle's place." - -"Cove Castle," snapped Sir Simon. "All the county knows that. But he -never comes near the place. Did you meet Lord Conniston at Miss -Plantagenet's, Julius?" - -"I have never met him at all," rejoined the meek young man stiffly, "and -I have been to Miss Plantagenet's only in the company of Bernard." - -"Aha!" chuckled Sir Simon. "You did not fall in love with that girl?" - -"No, uncle. Of course I am engaged to Miss Randolph." - -"You can call her 'Lucy' to a near relative like myself," said the -baronet, dryly. "Do you know Miss Malleson, Durham?" - -"No. I have not that pleasure." - -"But no doubt Bernard has told you about her." - -Durham shook his head. "I have not seen Gore for months." - -"Are you sure? He inherits a little money from his father; and you--" - -"Yes! I quite understand. I have charge of that money. Gore came a few -months ago, and I gave him fifty pounds or so. That was after he -quarrelled with you, Sir Simon. Since then I have not seen him." - -"Then he does not know that I am in Crimea Square." - -"Not that I know of. Certainly not from me. Is he in town?" - -It was Beryl who answered this. "Bernard has enlisted as an Imperial -Yeoman," said he. - -"Then I think the more of him," said Durham quickly. "Every man who can, -should go to the Front." - -"Why don't you go yourself, Durham?" - -"If I had not my business to look after I certainly should," replied the -lawyer. "But regarding Mr. Gore. Will you make any provision for him, -Sir Simon?" - -"I can't say. He deserves nothing. I leave it to Julius." - -"Should the money come into my possession soon," said Julius, -virtuously, "a thing I do not wish, since it means your death, dear -uncle, I should certainly allow Bernard two hundred a year." - -"Out of ten thousand," put in Durham. "How good of you!" - -"He deserves no more for his disobedience to his benefactor." - -Sir Simon chuckled yet again. "I am quite of Julius's opinion," he -declared. "Bernard has behaved shamefully. I wanted him to marry a Miss -Perry, who is rich." - -"Why can't you let him marry the woman he loves?" said Durham, with some -heat. "They can live on ten thousand a year and be happy. What is the -use of getting more money than is needed? Besides, from what I hear, -this Miss Malleson is a charming girl." - -"With no name and no position," said Sir Simon, "a mere paid companion. -I don't want my grandson to make such a bad match. If he does, he must -take the consequences. And he will--" - -"Certainly he will," said Beryl, anxious about the signing of the will. -"He has been hard-hearted for months, and shows no signs of giving in. -Since I am to inherit the money I will allow Bernard two hundred a year, -or such sum as Sir Simon thinks fit." - -"Two hundred is quite enough," said the baronet. "Mr. Durham, we will -see now about signing this will." - -"Can I not persuade you to--" - -"No! You can't persuade me to do anything but what I have done. I am -sure Julius here will make a better use of the money than Bernard will. -Won't you, Julius?" - -"I hope so," replied Beryl, rising; "but I trust it will be many a long -day before I inherit the money, dear uncle." - -"Make your mind easy," said Sir Simon, dryly. "I intend to live for many -a year yet." - -"I think I had better go now," observed Julius, rising. - -"Won't you stop and see the will signed?" - -"No, uncle. I think it is better, as I inherit, that I should be out of -the room. Who knows but what Bernard might say, did I remain, that I -exercised undue influence?" - -"Not while I am present," said Durham, touching a bell. - -"All the same I had better go," insisted the young man. "Uncle?" - -"Please yourself," replied Gore. "You can go if you like. I shall see -you on Friday when you come for Lucy." - -"To take her to the Curtain Theatre. Yes! But I trust I will see you -before then, uncle." And here, as a clerk entered the room and was -apparently, with Durham, about to witness the will, Julius departed. He -chuckled to himself when he was outside, thinking of his good luck. But -at the door his face altered. "He might change his mind," thought Beryl. -"There's no reliance to be placed on him. I wish--" he opened and shut -his fist; "but he won't die for a long time." - -While Julius was indulging in these thoughts, Sir Simon had taken up the -will to glance over it. He also requested Durham to send the clerk away -for a few moments. Rather surprised, the lawyer did so, thinking the old -man changeable. When alone with his legal adviser the baronet walked to -the fire and thrust the will into it. Durham could not forbear an -ejaculation of surprise, "What's that for?" - -"To punish Julius," said Sir Simon, placidly returning to his seat, as -though he had done nothing out of the way. "He is a mean sneak. He told -me about Bernard being in love with that girl so as to create trouble." - -"But you don't approve of the match?" - -"No, I certainly do not, and I daresay that when I insisted on Bernard -marrying Miss Perry that the truth would have come out. All the same it -was none of Beryl's business to make mischief. Besides, he is a sly -creature, and if I made the will in his favor, who knows but what he -might not contrive to get me out of the way?" - -"No," said Durham, thoughtfully, but well pleased for Bernard's sake -that the will had been destroyed. "I don't think he has courage to do -that. Besides, people don't murder nowadays." - -"Don't they?" said Sir Simon; "look in the newspapers." - -"I mean that what you think Julius might do is worthy of a novel. I -don't fancy novels are true to life." - -"Anything Julius did would be just like a novel. I tell you, Durham, he -is a villain of the worst; I don't trust him. I have led him on to think -that the will has been made in his favor; and when he learns the truth -he will be punished for his greed." - -"But, Sir Simon," argued the lawyer, "by letting him think the will is -made in his favor, you have placed him in the very position which, -according to you, might lead to his attempt to murder." - -"I'll take care of myself," said the old man, somewhat inconsistently, -for certainly he was acting differently to what he said. "By the way, -you have the other will?" - -"Yes! It leaves everything to Bernard save the legacies, which remain -much the same. Of course, in the first will is mentioned an annuity to -Mrs. Gilroy." - -"Hum, yes. I left her out of the new will. The fact is, I don't trust -Mrs. Gilroy. She's too friendly with Julius for my taste." - -"I understood her to be on the side of Bernard." - -"Oh, she's on whatever side suits her," said Sir Simon, testily. -"However, let the first will stand. She's a poor thing and has had a -hard life. I have every right to leave her something to live on." - -"Why?" asked Durham, bluntly. He found Mrs. Gilroy something of a -mystery, and did not know what was the bond between her and Sir Simon. - -"Never you mind. I have my reasons, so let things remain as they are. -Bernard can marry Miss Malleson when I am dead if he chooses." - -"He thinks he has been disinherited?" - -"Yes! I told him so. The truth will come as a pleasant surprise." - -"Won't you take him back into favor and tell him?" urged Durham. - -"No! not at present. If we met, there would only be more trouble. He has -a temper inherited from his Italian mother, and I have a temper also. He -behaved very rudely to me, and it's just as well he should suffer a -little. But I don't want him to go to the war. He must be bought out." - -"I fear Bernard is not the man to be bought out." - -"Oh, I know he is brave enough, and I suppose being bought out at the -eleventh hour when war is on is not heroic. All the same, I don't want -him to be shot." - -"You must leave things to chance," said Durham decidedly. "There is only -one way in which you can make him give up his soldiering." - -"What's that?" - -"Make friends with him, and ask him to wait till you die." - -"No, no, no!" said Sir Simon, irritably. "He must keep away from me for -a time. After all, he is the son of his father, and, bad as Walter was, -I loved him for his mother's sake. As for the Italian woman--" - -"Mrs. Gore! She is dead." - -"I know she is. But her brother Guiseppe is alive, and a scoundrel he -is. The other day he came to the Hall and tried to force his way into -the house. A gambler, a rogue, Durham--that's what Guiseppe is." - -"What is his other name?" - -"Tolomeo! He comes from Siena." - -"I understood Mrs. Gore--your son's wife--came from Florence." - -"So she said. She declared she was the member of a decayed Florentine -family. But afterwards I learned from Guiseppe that the Tolomeo nobles -are Sienese--and a bad lot they are. He is a musician, I believe--a -plausible scamp. I hope he has not got hold of Bernard." - -"Bernard is his nephew." - -"I know that," snapped the old man. "All the same, the uncle is sadly in -want of money, and would exercise an undue influence over Bernard." - -"I don't think Gore is the man to be controlled," said Durham, sagely. - -"You don't know. He is young after all. But you know, by the will, I -have put it out of Bernard's power to assist Tolomeo. If he gives him as -much as a shilling the money is lost to him and goes to Lucy." - -"That is rather a hard provision," said Durham, after a pause. - -"I do it for the boy's good," replied Gore, rising; "but I must get home -now. By the way, about that lease," and the two began to talk of matters -connected with the estate. - -Sir Simon after this refused to discuss his erring grandson, but Durham, -who was friendly to Bernard, insisted on recurring to the forbidden -subject. However it was just when the old man was going that he reverted -to the bone of contention, "I wish you would let me tell Bernard that -you are well disposed toward him." - -"Ah! you plead for the scamp," said Sir Simon, angrily. - -"Well, I was at Eton with him, you know, and we are great friends. If he -is an Imperial Yeoman there will be no difficulty in seeing him." - -"Leave matters as they are. I have ascertained that he won't go to the -war for six weeks. Julius found that out for me, so wait till he is on -the eve of sailing. Then we'll see. If nothing else will keep him at -home, I'll make it up. But I think a little hardship will do him good. -He behaved very badly." - -"Bernard is naturally hot tempered." - -"So am I. Therefore, let us keep apart for a time. Who knows what would -happen did we meet. No, Durham, let Bernard think that I am still angry. -If Lucy sets a lamp in the Red Window that's a different thing. I shan't -interfere with her romance." - -"The Red Window. What's that?" - -"A silly legend of the Gore family of which you know nothing. I have no -time to repeat rubbish. I'll come and see you again about that lease, -Durham. Meanwhile, should Bernard be hard up, help him out of your own -pocket. I'll make it up to you." - -"He wouldn't accept alms. Besides, he has enough to go on with. I have -two hundred of his money in hand." - -"Then I have nothing more to say. I'm sorry the fellow isn't starving. -His conduct to me was shameful." And Sir Simon went grumbling home. - -"All the same, I'll see Bernard," thought Durham, returning to his -office. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - A STRANGE ADVENTURE - - -Conniston and Bernard Gore were as much as possible in one another's -company during the stay of the former in town. Thinking he would go out -to the Cape sooner than he did, Bernard had impulsively got rid of his -civilian clothes, and therefore had to keep constantly to his uniform. -But in those days everyone was in khaki, as the war fever was in the -air, so amongst the throng he passed comparatively unnoticed. At all -events he managed to keep away from the fashionable world, and therefore -saw neither Sir Simon nor Lucy. Beyond the fact that his grandfather was -in town Bernard knew nothing, and was ignorant that the old man had -taken up his abode in Crimea Square. So he told Durham when the lawyer -questioned him. - -The three old schoolfellows came together at Durham's house, which was -situated on Camden Hill. Faithful to his intention to see Gore, the -lawyer had sent a note asking Conniston where Bernard was to be found. -Already Conniston had told Durham of his chance meeting in the Park, so -when he received Durham's letter he insisted on taking Gore to dinner at -the lawyer's house. Bernard was only too glad, and the three had a long -talk over old times. The dinner was excellent, the wine was good, and -although the young man's housekeeper was rather surprised that her -precise master should dine with a couple of soldiers, she did her best -to make them comfortable. When the meal was ended Durham carried off his -guests to the library, where they sat around a sea-wood fire sipping -coffee and smoking the excellent cigars of their host. Durham alone was -in evening dress, as Gore kept to khaki, and Conniston, for the sake of -company, retained his lancer uniform. Their host laughed as he -contemplated the two. - -"I feel inclined to go to the front myself," said he, handing Gore a -glass of kuemmel, "but the business would suffer." - -"Leave it in charge of a clerk," said Conniston, in his hair-brained -way. "You have no ties to keep you here. Your parents are dead--you -aren't married, and--" - -"I may be engaged for all you know." - -"Bosh! There's a look about an engaged man you can't mistake. Look at -Bernard there. He is--" - -"_Pax! Pax!_" cried Gore, laughing. "Leave me alone, Conniston. But are -you really engaged, Mark?" - -"No," said Mark, rubbing his knees rather dismally. "I should like to -be. A home-loving man like myself needs a wife to smile at him across -the hearth." - -"And just now you talked of going to the front," put in the young lord. -"You don't know your own mind. But, I say, this is jolly. Back I go to -barracks to-morrow and shall remember this comfortable room and this -glimpse of civilized life." - -"You were stupid to enlist," said Durham, sharply. "Had you come to me, -we could have arranged matters better. You knew I'd see you through, -Conniston. I have ample means." - -"I don't want to be seen through," said Conniston, wilfully. "Besides, -it's fun, this war. I'm crazy to go, and now that Bernard's coming along -it will be like a picnic." - -"Not much, I fear," said Bernard, "if all the tales we hear are true." - -"Right," said Durham. "This won't be the military promenade the -generality of people suppose it will be. The Boers are obstinate." - -"So are we," argued Conniston; "but don't let us talk shop. We'll get -heaps of that at the Cape. Mark, you wanted to see Bernard about some -business. Shall I leave the room?" - -"No, no!" said Gore, hastily. "Mark can say what he likes about my -business before you, Conniston. I have nothing to conceal." - -"Nothing?" asked Durham, looking meaningly at his friend. - -Gore allowed an expression of surprise to flit across his expressive -face. "What are you driving at, Mark?" - -"Well," said Durham, slowly, "your grandfather came to see me the other -day on business--" - -"I can guess what the business was," put in Bernard, bitterly, and -thinking that a new will had been made. - -The lawyer smiled. "Quite so. But don't ask me to betray the secrets of -my client. But Sir Simon knew you were in the Imperial Yeomanry, -Bernard. He learned that from Beryl." - -"Who is, no doubt, spying on me. It is thanks to Julius that I had the -row with my grandfather. He--" - -"You needn't trouble to explain," interrupted Durham. "I know. Sir Simon -explained. But he also asked me if you knew he was in town." - -"I told Bernard," said Conniston, "and you told me." - -"Yes. But does Bernard know where Sir Simon is stopping?" - -"No," said Gore, emphatically, "I don't." - -"Neither do I. What are you getting at, Mark?" - -"It's a queer thing," went on Durham, taking no notice of Conniston's -question, "but afterwards--yesterday, in fact--Sir Simon wrote saying -that he heard from Mrs. Gilroy of an Imperial Yeoman who had been -visiting in the kitchen of Crimea Square--" - -"What about Crimea Square?" asked Gore, quickly. - -"Your grandfather is stopping there--in No. 32; old Jefferies' house." - -"Oh! I knew nothing of that. Go on." - -"Sir Simon," proceeded the lawyer, looking at Gore, "stated in his -letter that the description of the soldier, as given by the maid, -applied to you, Bernard." - -Gore stared and looked puzzled, as did Conniston. "But I don't quite -understand," said the former. "Do you mean that my grandfather thinks -that I have been making love to some servant in Crimea Square?" - -"In No. 32. Yes. That is what Sir Simon's letter intimated to me." - -The other men looked at one another and burst out laughing. "What jolly -rubbish!" said Lord Conniston. "Why, Bernard is the last person to do -such a thing." - -"It's all very well to laugh," said Durham, rather tartly, "but you see, -Gore, Sir Simon may think that you went to the kitchen, not to make love -to the maid, but to see how he was disposed towards you." - -"But, Mark, I haven't been near the place." - -"Are you sure?" asked Mark, sharply. - -Bernard, always hot-tempered, jumped up. "I won't bear that from any -man," he said. "You have no right to doubt my word, Durham." - -"Don't fire up over nothing, Gore. It is in your own interest that I -speak. I knew well enough that you wouldn't make love to this housemaid -mentioned by Sir Simon--Jane Riordan is her name. But I fancied you -might have gone to see if your grandfather--" - -"I went to see nothing," replied Gore, dropping back into his chair with -a disgusted air. "I don't sneak round in that way. When my grandfather -kicked me out of the house, I said good-bye to Alice and came to London. -I saw you, to get some money, and afterwards I enlisted. I never knew -that Sir Simon was in town till Conniston told me. I never knew he lived -in Crimea Square till you explained. My duties have kept me hard at work -all the time. And even if they hadn't," said the young man, wrathfully, -"I certainly wouldn't go making love to servants to gain information -about my own people." - -"Quite so," said Durham, smoothly. "Then why--" - -"Drop the subject, Mark." - -"Sit down and be quiet, Bernard," said Conniston, pulling him back into -his seat, for he had again risen. "Mark has something to say." - -"If you will let me say it," said Durham, with the air of a man severely -tried by a recalcitrant witness. - -"Go on, then," said Bernard, and flung himself into his chair in a -rather sullen manner. His troubles had worn his nerves thin, and even -from his old schoolfellow he was not prepared to take any scolding. All -the same, he secretly saw that he was accusing Durham of taking a -liberty where none was meant. - -"It's this way," said the lawyer, when Gore was smoothed down for the -time being. "We know that Beryl hates you." - -"He wants the money." - -"I know that." Durham smiled when he thought of the destroyed will; but -he could hardly explain his smile. "Well, it is strange that the -description given by the maid of this soldier--and a yeoman, mind -you--should be like you. Have you a double?" - -"Not that I know of." - -"Then someone is impersonating you so as to arouse the wrath of your -grandfather against you. Sir Simon is a proud old man, and the idea that -you condescended to flirt with--" - -"But I didn't, I tell you!" cried the exasperated Gore. - -"No. We know that. But Sir Simon, judging from his letter, thinks so." - -"He has no right to do that. My conduct never gave him any reason to -think I would sink so low." - -"My dear chap," said Conniston, with the air of a Socrates, "when anyone -has his monkey up, he will believe anything." - -"Conniston is quite right," said the lawyer, "though he expresses -himself with his usual elegance. Sir Simon, with Beryl at his elbow, is -inclined to believe the worst of you, Bernard, and probably thinks you -have deteriorated sufficiently to permit your making use of even so -humble an instrument as a housemaid." - -"Bah!" said Gore, in a rage. "What right has he to--" - -"Don't be so furious, my dear man. I am advising you for your own good, -and not charging seven-and-six either." - -This made Bernard laugh. "But it does make a fellow furious to hear his -nearest--I won't say dearest--think so badly of one." - -"One's relatives always think the worst," said Conniston, oracularly. -"Miss Plantagenet thinks so badly of me that I'll never see that five -thousand a year. Miss Malleson will have it, and you, Bernard, will live -on it. _Pax! Pax!_" for Bernard gave him a punch on the shoulder. - -"Dick, you're a silly ass! Go on, Durham." - -"Well," said Durham, beginning in his invariable manner, "I fancy that -Beryl is up to some trick. You have not been near the place; so someone -made up to impersonate you is sneaking round. Of course, there is the -other alternative, Mrs. Gilroy may be telling a lie!" - -"She wouldn't," rejoined Gore, quickly. "She is on my side." - -"So you told me. But your grandfather thinks otherwise. We were talking -about you the other day." - -"And Sir Simon said no good of me," was Bernard's remark. "But what is -to be done?" - -"Only one thing. Go and see your grandfather and have the matter sifted. -If Mrs. Gilroy is lying you can make her prove the truth. If she tells -the truth, you can see if Beryl has a hand in the matter." - -Gore rose and began to pace the room. "I should like to see my -grandfather," said he, "as I want to apologise for my behavior. But I am -afraid if we come together there will be trouble." - -"I daresay--if Beryl is at his elbow. Therefore, I do not advise you to -call at Crimea Square. But when Sir Simon goes down to the Hall again, -you can make it your business to see him and set matters right." - -"I am afraid that is impossible," said Gore, gloomily, "unless I give up -Alice, and that I won't do." He struck the table hard. - -"Don't spoil the furniture, Bernard," said Conniston, lighting a -cigarette. "You do what Mark says. Go down to Hurseton." - -"I don't want to be known in this kit, and I have parted with my plain -clothes," objected the other. - -"You always were an impulsive beast," said Conniston, with the candour -of a long friendship. "Well, then"--he rose and crossed to the -writing-table--"I'll scrawl a note to Mrs. Moon telling her to put you -up at Cove Castle. She can hold her tongue, and the castle is in so -out-of-the-way a locality that no one will spot you there. You can then -walk across to Hurseton--it's only ten miles--and see if that Red Window -is alight." - -"Your grandfather said something about the Red Window," said Durham, -while Conniston scribbled the note in a kind of print, since Mrs. Moon -was not particularly well educated. "What is it?" - -Bernard explained the idea of Lucy, and how she was playing the part of -his friend, to let him know how matters stood. "I am always startled by -a red window now," he said, laughing at his own folly, "as it means so -much to me. The other night I saw a chemist's sign and it made me sit -up." - -"It's an absurdly romantic idea," said Durham, with all the scorn of a -lawyer for the quaint. "Why revive an old legendary idea when a simple -letter--" - -"Mrs. Gilroy and Julius would stop any letters," said Bernard, "that is, -if she is hostile to me, which she may be. I am not sure of her -attitude." - -"What is the legend of the Red Window?" asked Durham. - -"It's too long a story to tell," said Bernard, glancing at the clock, -which pointed to a quarter to ten, "and I'm due at barracks. I'll tell -you about it on another occasion. Meantime--" - -"Meantime," said Durham, rising, "I advise you to drop red windows and -legends and go down to see Sir Simon boldly. A short interview will put -everything right." - -"And might put everything wrong." - -"No," said Durham, earnestly, "believe me, your grandfather will be more -easy to deal with than you think. I am his solicitor and I dare not say -much, but I advise you to see him as soon as you can. The sooner the -better, since Beryl is a dangerous enemy to have." - -"Well, Lucy is my friend." - -"And Mrs. Gilroy your enemy along with Beryl." - -"I'm not so sure of that," began Gore, when Conniston lounged towards -him with a letter. - -"You give that to Mrs. Moon," said he, "and she will put you up and hold -her tongue and make things pleasant. But don't say I am in town, as I -have not dated the letter." - -"Does she think you are in America?" asked Bernard, putting the letter -into his pocket, and promising to use it should occasion offer. - -"Yes. She thinks a great deal of the West family," said Conniston, -taking another glass of kuemmel, "and she would howl if she heard I was a -mere private. And I don't know but what she may not know. I saw that -young brute of a Judas when I left you the other day, Bernard." - -"Judas?" echoed Durham, who was unlocking the spirit-stand. - -Conniston sat down and stretched out his legs. "He's Mrs. Moon's -grandson. Jerry Moon is his name--but he's such a young scoundrel that I -call him Judas as more appropriate. I got him a place with Taberley, the -tobacconist, but he took money or something and was kicked out. The -other day when I met him he was selling matches. I gave him half a -sovereign to go back to his grandmother, so by this time I expect he's -at Cove Castle telling her lies. I instructed him to hold his tongue -about my soldiering." - -"Why didn't you send him to me?" said Mark. "I would have frightened -him, and made him hold his tongue." - -"If you could frighten Judas you could frighten his father, the Old 'Un -down below," said Conniston, laughing. "He's what the Artful Dodger -would call a young Out-and-Outer; a kind of Jack Sheppard in grain. -He'll come your way yet, Mark, passing by on his journey to the gallows. -He's only thirteen, but a born criminal. He'll hold his tongue about me -so long as it suits him, and sell me to make a sixpence. Oh, he's a -delightful young scamp, I promise you!" - -All this aimless chatter made Bernard rather impatient. "I must cut -along," he said; "it's rather foggy and it will take me a long time to -fetch my barracks. No, thank you, Mark, I don't want anything to drink. -Give me a couple of those cigarettes, Conniston. Good night." - -"Won't you stop the night?" said Durham, hospitably. "Conniston is -staying." - -"He's on furlough and I'm not," said Bernard, who was now putting on his -slouch hat in the hall. "Good night, Conniston. Good night, Durham." - -"You'll think over what I told you," said the lawyer, opening the door -himself and looking outside. "I say, what a fog! Stop here, Bernard." - -"No! No! Thanks all the same." Gore stepped out into the white mist, -buttoning his coat. "Give me a light. There! Go back and yarn with Dick, -I'll come and see you again. As to Sir Simon--" - -"What about him?" - -"I'll think over what you said. If possible I'll go down and stop at -Cove Castle, and see Sir Simon at night. By the way, what's the time, -Durham?" - -The lawyer was about to pull out his watch when Conniston appeared at -the end of the hall in high spirits. "My dear friend," he said in a -dramatic manner, "it is the twenty-third of October, in the year of our -Lord one thousand nine hundred and--" - -"Bosh!" interrupted Bernard. "The time, Mark?" - -"Just ten o'clock. Good night!" - -"Good night, and keep that wild creature in order. Conniston, I'll look -you up to-morrow." - -It was indeed a foggy night. Bernard felt as though he were passing -through wool, and the air was bitterly cold. However, he thrust his -hands into his pockets and smoked bravely as he felt his way down the -hill. Hardly had he issued from the gate when he felt someone clutch his -coat. Brave as Gore was he started, for in this fog he might meet with -all manner of unpleasant adventures. However, being immediately under a -lamp, he saw that a small boy was holding on to him. A pretty lad he -looked, though clothed in rags and miserable with the cold. In one hand -he held a tray of matches and in the other a piece of bread. His feet -were bare and his rags scarcely covered him. In a child-like, innocent -manner he looked up into the face of the tall soldier. "Well, boy," said -Bernard, feeling for sixpence, "Are you wanting to get home?" - -"Ain't got no home," said the boy, hoarsely. "I sleeps in a barrel, I -does, when 'ard up. It's you as the lady wants to see." - -"The lady!" Bernard looked down at the imp. "What do you mean?" - -"It's this way, my lord," said the boy, looking like a cherub of -innocence. "The lady, she says to me that in this street you'll see, -before twelve, a soldier in yeller clothes. Tell him to foller to the -Red Winder." - -"What's that?" asked Gore, sharply, and quite taken aback by hearing -these words on the lips of this ragged brat. "Where did you see the -lady, boy?" - -"Down Kensington way," said the boy jerking his head over his shoulder. -"She says, 'Tell him to foller to the Red Winder.' Come along!" and he -darted off in the fog. - -"But you must explain," began Bernard, when he stopped. The boy had -disappeared into the fog, and wondering how he came to be in possession -of this information which concerned him, Gore walked along feeling his -way by the brick wall. Perhaps Lucy had sent the message, and the Red -Window was to be seen in the Crimea Square house. Bernard wished to ask -the boy further questions, but the lad had vanished. In much perplexity -the young man went down the hill towards Kensington High Street. As he -paused at the corner wondering if it would be wise to go to the Square, -and wondering also where it was, the boy suddenly appeared again at his -elbow. "Come along acrost the road," he growled, and vanished again. -Then Bernard got lost in the fog till the boy found him again. - -Bernard, not thinking any harm could come of the adventure, as he had -ample confidence in his right arm, went across the street. The boy -reappeared and led him down a side street. Gore tried to seize the boy -and to detain him in order to ask questions, but the imp kept well out -of reach, and only appeared when he thought there was danger of the tall -soldier losing his way. In this manner Bernard was led down the quiet -street, 'longside a high wall and through the heart of the dense fog. He -kept his eyes open for any possible assailant, and did not feel the -least afraid. All the same, he began to think he was foolish to follow -on such a will-o'-the-wisp errand. But that the boy had mentioned the -Red Window, Bernard would have turned on his heel. As it was, he felt -curious enough to proceed. Suddenly the boy--a few feet ahead--led him -into a wide space which was densely filled with fog. Here his guide -turned to the right, and then whistled. When Gore, who had followed, -heard that whistle he tightened his hold on his stick. The boy had -vanished, and there he was alone in the heart of the fog. No one -appeared, and he could not even see his guide. Looking overhead, Bernard -suddenly saw a Red Window on the first story of a house. The house -loomed hugely through the fog and was in some measure revealed by the -light of a street lamp which threw a dull glimmer on to steps ascending -to the door. There was a light behind the glass over the door, but the -young man did not look at that. He was staring at the window in the -first storey, which showed a fiery red color. - -"I wonder if this is Crimea Square and the house," muttered Bernard, -stepping forward. "And whether Lucy put that light there, and sent the -boy to tell me. But how could she know I was with Durham to-night?" - -Again he heard the whistle, and then came a shriek which apparently came -from the house. Bernard ran to the steps, wondering if anything was the -matter. The door opened, and a woman burst out of the house shrieking at -the pitch of her voice--"Murder! Murder! Murder!" she cried. "Oh, the -police--the police! Murder!" - -"Mrs. Gilroy!" Bernard saw her face in the light which streamed from the -open door, and which was thrown by the street lamp vaguely through the -fog. She stopped and clutched him, staring into his face. - -"Come," she said in a harsh whisper, and dragged him forward. Quite -bewildered, Gore suffered himself to be led. Mrs. Gilroy dragged him -rather than led him up the stairs and into a room. There he saw his -grandfather seated by the fire with a handkerchief round his neck, and -another tied across his mouth--quite dead. "Murder!" said Mrs. Gilroy. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - LOST IN THE DARKNESS - - -While the terrible word was yet on the housekeeper's lips, Bernard -stepped forward and loosened the handkerchiefs. That round the neck was -one of Sir Simon's own, a yellow bandana woven of strong silk, and -eminently suited to the deadly purpose it had been used for. But how had -the dead man's own handkerchief been so utilised by the murderer? While -untying the knot, Bernard wondered; but he gained an inkling into the -method pursued when he removed the white handkerchief which had been -bound across the mouth. It exhaled a faint odor of chloroform, so it was -apparent that the old baronet had been first rendered unconscious, and -then strangled with his own bandana. But who was guilty of the crime? - -"What do you know of this?" asked Gore, in a hoarse voice, turning to -the housekeeper. - -She had ceased to cry out, and was staring at him with glittering eyes. -At the same time she appeared to be listening intently. Far off could be -heard the sound of approaching footsteps echoing along the pavement. -Evidently a policeman, summoned by Mrs. Gilroy's shriek, was hurrying to -see what was the matter. As the door had been left open he would know -where to enter. These thoughts flashed through Mrs. Gilroy's mind as she -stared at the pale young man. Also there were sounds in the lower parts -of the house hinting that the servants had been aroused. A distant clock -struck the three quarters, and even at that terrible moment Bernard -remembered that in his vague wanderings after the boy he had been -forty-five minutes getting to Crimea Square. And Mrs. Gilroy still -looked. - -"What do you know of this?" repeated Gore, wondering at her silence. - -She gave a gasp. "He is dead," said Mrs. Gilroy. "I wonder if he died -hard. He was a strong old man." - -Wondering more than ever at this strange speech, Bernard felt the pulse -and the heart of his grandfather. There was no doubt that life was -extinct, although it could not have been so long. The skin was still -warm to the touch, but that might have been because the room was heated. -Also, the dead man was seated close to the fire. "How terrible!" -muttered Bernard, whose emotions were not yet under control. "I must get -help." - -He turned to go, but the housekeeper, suddenly becoming endowed with -life, flung herself in his path. "No!" she said harshly. "Don't seek -help if you value your life." - -"What do you mean?" asked Gore, striving to shake off the hand she laid -on his sleeve. "The servants are up--a policeman is evidently coming -along. Hark! he is entering the hall. I must--" - -"You go to the gallow," muttered Mrs. Gilroy clinging to him. - -"I!" the perspiration burst out on Bernard's forehead, and he started -back. "Are you mad?" - -"You are, you are," went on the housekeeper, hurriedly, "you fool! It is -known that your grandfather disinherited you, and--" - -"You know I did not commit this crime." - -"I know nothing. I--I" Mrs. Gilroy put her hand to her head. "It's the -only way--the only way," she whispered to herself. "You killed him, you -strangled him. I swear to it--I swear to it! Help!" she raised her voice -to scream. "Help!" - -"Let me go," cried Bernard, thinking he had been drawn into a trap. - -But Mrs. Gilroy still clung with a force for which he would not have -given her credit. Shrieking aloud she was dragged by the startled young -man into the passage and towards the landing. Below, in the hall, the -door of which was open, the cook and the housemaid were embracing a -burly policeman, and terrified small page was looking up the stairs. On -the vision of this alarmed group reeled Mrs. Gilroy, clinging and -shrieking to Bernard--"Help me--help me! He will escape!" The policeman -blew a shrill whistle and said a sharp word to the page, who scampered -out of the door for dear life. The cook and housemaid receded towards -the back of the hall as Bernard, dragging Mrs. Gilroy after him, flung -himself down the stairs. He saw now that his position was dangerous, but -his wits were so bewildered that he hardly knew what he was doing. As he -reached the foot of the stair the policeman caught him by the coat. "I -arrest you in the King's name," said the officer, promptly. - -"Yes, yes! for murder--murder!" cried Mrs. Gilroy, breathlessly. - -"Murder!" the other servants shrieked. - -"Who is dead?" asked the policeman, with professional stolidity. - -"Sir Simon Gore. This is his grandson. He has strangled him." - -"It's a lie--a lie!" cried Bernard, very pale. "I did not enter--" - -"Anything you say now will be used in evidence against you," said the -policeman. "Come up the stairs, we must see this corpse. A titled man, -too, and your grandfather--you audacious scoundrel!" and he shook the -wretched young man. - -"I tell you I am innocent," said Bernard, his lips dry and his face -pale. "I came here--" - -"To kill Sir Simon. Jane," cried Mrs. Gilroy, turning to the housemaid. -"Don't you see who it is?" - -Jane staggered forward supported by the cook. "Lor'," she gasped in -terror, "it's Bernard. Whatever did you--" - -"You know him, then?" asked the officer. - -"Yes! he's been making love and visiting me for the last week?" - -"I thought so," cried Mrs. Gilroy, triumphantly. "Cook." - -"I know him too," said the cook, keeping well out of the way. "It's the -young soldier as courts Jane. Bernard's his name." - -"I was never in this house before," said Gore, quite unnerved. - -"Is your name Bernard?" asked the policeman. - -"Yes! but--" - -"Then you are guilty." - -"He is--he is!" cried the housemaid. "He was here this evening, but went -away at six. Sir Simon said he would see him after ten. Oh, Bernard, how -could you!" sobbed Jane. "To think I should have took up with a man as -'ull be put in the Chamber of Horrors." - -"Policeman, let me go," said Gore, firmly. "There is some mistake." - -"The magistrate will decide that. Help will be here soon, and then -you'll be lodged in jail." - -"Mrs. Gilroy," cried the young man, overwhelmed with horror, "you know I -am innocent." - -"No," she said fiercely, and with her eyes on his face. "You came to see -Sir Simon after ten. I let you in myself. I waited below while you spoke -with Sir Simon, and you left fifteen minutes ago. I went upstairs to see -my master. He was dead--strangled. I ran out calling murder, and you -were almost on the doorstep." - -"I had only just come." - -"Come back, you mean," said the officer. - -"To see if poor master was dead," shrieked the cook. - -"Oh, Bernard--Bernard!" sobbed Jane, "how could you kill him! Lor'! that -I should have kissed a murderer." - -"Hark!" said Mrs. Gilroy, raising her hand, "footsteps. The other police -are coming. Take him away to jail, officer." - -"This is a trick--a trap!" cried Bernard, struggling to get free. "I -never was in the house before--" - -"You have visited in the kitchen for over a fortnight," said Jane, -weeping copiously. - -"Someone like me has, but not me. Look well, girl. Am I the man?" - -"Bring him under the lamp, policeman," said Jane, hesitating. - -"No!" said Mrs. Gilroy, pushing the housemaid back, "there is no time. -Here are the police. We must go upstairs and see Sir Simon. Miss -Randolph is at the theatre with Mr. Beryl. Ah--hark!" - -There was a sound of approaching wheels, and a moment afterwards a -carriage drove up. Out of it stepped Lucy and Julius. They entered the -hall and looked amazed, as they well might, on seeing Bernard in the -grip of the policeman, and the alarmed women around him. - -"What's this?" asked Julius. - -"Bernard," cried Lucy, running forward, "what have you done?" - -"Murdered his grandfather, miss," said the policeman. - -Lucy uttered a wild shriek and sprang up the stairs, followed by the -cook and housemaid. But Mrs. Gilroy still held her ground and caught -hold of Beryl's arm. "Keep him fast, sir," she said savagely. "He came -this night and murdered the master." - -"Julius, it is a lie!" - -"I hope so," said Beryl, who looked pale and startled; "but you know you -quarrelled with my uncle." - -"Ah, did he?" said the policeman, and felt for his pocket-book. In doing -so, he slightly relaxed his grip, and Bernard was quick to take -advantage of the chance. Had he but reflected for a moment, he would -have stood his ground and have faced the worst; but with the accusing -face of Mrs. Gilroy before him, and a memory of the housemaid's evidence -and Beryl's enmity, he decided hastily to fly. In a moment he laid the -policeman flat on his back by a quick wrestling trick, and darted out -into the street. Mrs. Gilroy ran to the door shrieking murder, and the -word was heard by three or four policemen who were tramping hurriedly -along in the wake of the breathless page. At once they realized the -situation, and plunged into the fog after the flying form of the -soldier. The page followed also, but speedily returned with the news -that the fugitive was running towards High Street. - -"He's bound to be caught," said Mrs. Gilroy. - -"I hope not," said Beryl, who was standing in the hall much disturbed. -"After all, he is my cousin." - -"And a murderer," added the housekeeper. "Wait here, policeman." - -"But he's got away," said the officer, considerably ruffled by the -escape. "I must follow." - -"The others are after him," said Julius, drawing him back. "You can't -follow in the fog. It's thicker than ever. Mrs. Webber." - -"Oh, what's the matter?" asked a trembling voice, and a white face -appeared at the window of the carriage which stood at the door. "Mr. -Beryl!" - -"Sir Simon has been murdered by his grandson," said Julius, running down -the steps and speaking quietly. - -Mrs. Webber threw herself back into the carriage and shrieked, "Oh, -horrible! Drive away--drive away." - -"No! no!" said Beryl, anxiously. "Lucy is upstairs with the corpse. Come -and take her away. She can't remain here." - -"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Webber, recovering from her momentary alarm, -and getting hastily out of the carriage. "James, where is Francis?" - -"He's gone off after the murderer, mum," said James, touching his hat; -"but for the 'orses I'd have gone also." - -"Wait--wait," said Mrs. Webber, hurrying up the steps. "How -terrible--poor Sir Simon. Where is the body?" she asked, shuddering. - -"In the sitting-room on the first floor," said Mrs. Gilroy. - -"Where the red light is?" asked the lady. - -"There is no red light," said Mrs. Gilroy. - -"But I tell you there is," said Mrs. Webber. "I saw it when I heard the -horrid cry of murder." - -"The red light," said Julius, starting. "I wonder"--he hurried outside -and looked up to the dark front of the house. "There's no red light, -Mrs. Webber," he called out. - -"I knew there wasn't," cried Mrs. Gilroy, sitting down, evidently -exhausted. "You must be mistaken, ma'am." - -Mrs. Webber ran out also. "I am not mistaken. Why"--she stared up -also--"there is none. Yet I am sure--I'll ask Lucy," and she ran into -the house again. "Come and show me where the poor man is." - -This was to Mrs. Gilroy, who rose slowly and walked heavily up the -stairs. "Are you in pain, Mrs. Gilroy?" asked Julius, who followed. - -"Yes," she muttered, pressing her hand to her side. "Mr. Gore gave me a -wrench when I struggled with him. My poor master," and sighing heavily, -she panted up the stair. - -In the room, Lucy was kneeling beside the dead, with the tears streaming -down her cheeks and holding the limp hand. "How terrible it is!" she -sobbed. "He was so well and bright when I left to go to the theatre, and -now"--she broke down. Julius supported her to the sofa and strove to -calm her. - -"It _is_ terrible," he said soothingly. "I think you had better go back -with Mrs. Webber." - -"No!" she said, drying her eyes. "I will wait here." - -"Yes, do, miss," chorussed the cook and the housemaid, who were both in -a state of wild alarm. - -"Nothing of the sort," said Mrs. Webber, laying her hand on the girl's -shoulder. "Come home with me, dear." - -Mrs. Webber was a small, dark, stern-looking little woman with a high -color, although her face was very white at the present awful moment. She -was possessed of considerable determination, as could be seen from her -firm mouth. But Lucy, in spite of her youth and the crushing to which -she had been subjected by Sir Simon, had the stronger will, and -positively refused to leave the house. - -"He was my only friend," she said, rising, "and I won't go away." - -"You can do nothing, dear," said Julius, quickly. - -"I can help the nurse with the body," she answered. "Don't say another -word, Julius. My post is here. Send for someone at once to lay out the -body, unless you--" She looked at Jane and the cook. - -These cowards shrieked simultaneously, and with one accord fled to the -lower regions, where they sat up for the rest of the night drinking -strong tea, and discussing the tragic event with the gusto peculiar to -their class. The policeman joined them here later, and asked after the -courting of Jane. - -Meantime Mrs. Webber, finding all remonstrance vain, had departed. Mrs. -Gilroy remained alone with the dead body, and Julius, leading Lucy to -another room, answered the inquiries of an inspector who had appeared on -the scene. He noted all replies made, and explained that the fugitive -had not yet been caught. "And I don't know if he will be," added -Inspector Groom, shrugging his shoulders; "the fog is thick." - -"And Bernard is very quick," said Lucy, sipping a glass of wine which -she sorely needed. "Oh, I hope he'll get away!" - -"Very natural," said Groom, nodding. "You don't want the scandal." - -"I don't want Bernard hanged," said Miss Randolph. - -"Ah! Then you think he is guilty." - -"Mrs. Gilroy says he is," answered the girl, sobbing, "and I know -Bernard was on bad terms with Sir Simon. Julius, perhaps after all -Bernard may be innocent." - -"I hope so," said Beryl, dubiously; "but according to Jane, Bernard has -been hanging round the house for the last fortnight, and----" - -"Ah!" said Groom, sharply, "hanging round the house, eh? I must speak to -Jane. Who is she?" - -"The housemaid. Bernard has been making love to her." - -"I don't believe that is true," said Lucy. - -"Young gentlemen do take strange fancies sometimes," said Groom, "and -some housemaids are pretty." - -Lucy's lip curled. "Jane is not pretty," said she, decidedly, "and -Bernard is far too fastidious a man to lower himself in that way." - -"Well, the long and the short of it is, that he has been hanging round -the house," put in Beryl, biting his fingers impatiently. "Probably he -came here this evening, and saw Sir Simon in answer to the signal of the -Red Window." - -"The Red Window!" echoed Lucy. - -"Yes. You told me about the signal this evening." - -"But I did not place a lamp in any window, and there is no Red Window -here. Had I done that to attract Bernard, I should have told you." - -"I don't think you would," said Beryl, with a significant expression; -"but the fact remains, Mrs. Webber saw the Red Window." - -"You did not." - -"No. But a piece of red stuff may have been used to make the light, and -then removed." - -"Mrs. Gilroy may know about it." - -But Mrs. Gilroy, when questioned, did not. She never knew anything about -a red light. Sir Simon had expressed the wish to see the soldier, and -had sent down to the kitchen before six. "He was then having tea with -Jane." - -"Did you see him?" asked the inspector. - -"No. Had I done so I should have recognized him. But he always got out -of the place when he heard me coming. Once he was concealed in a -cupboard. On receiving Sir Simon's message sent by the page, he left the -house----" - -"Yes," interrupted Lucy. "I remember the message being brought back." - -"And then he came after ten," went on Mrs. Gilroy. "I opened the door to -him. He asked to see his grandfather." - -"He was this man, then?" asked Groom. - -"Mr. Bernard Gore? Yes, he was. He went to see the old gentleman, and I -waited below. Then he left the house----" - -"Did you let him out?" - -"No. He went away quickly. Wondering at the length of the interview, I -ran up the stairs and found Sir Simon dead. I came out at once, and -found Mr. Gore almost on the doorstep----" - -"Mr. Gore?" asked the inspector, looking up. - -"Yes. Mr. Bernard Gore, the grandson of Sir Simon." - -"And my cousin," said Julius. "You say he was at the door?" - -"He was, Mr. Beryl. I made him come up the stairs and"--she made a -gesture--"you know the rest." - -Groom put the housekeeper through a thorough examination, and noted down -her replies. She told a consistent story. Then he questioned Julius and -Lucy regarding the quarrel between the deceased and his grandson. -Finally he proceeded to the kitchen and questioned the servants. The -result of these inquiries was that Inspector Groom left the house--with -a policeman in charge--firmly persuaded of Bernard's guilt. All the -evidence pointed to his committal of the crime. Groom was not -ill-pleased. He thought he had secured a case likely to cause a -sensation, and to prove remunerative to himself. - -While the rope to hang the unfortunate young man was being woven, the -outcast--for he was nothing else now--was racing through the fog. After -the first plunge into the gray mist, he succeeded in shaking off the -officers--all save one. This was a young fellow, quick on his legs. He -followed Bernard towards the High Street, as had been reported by the -page, who had seen the two dark forms shooting past him. Only a yard or -two lay between pursued and pursuer, and Gore, in spite of all his -efforts, could not increase the distance. But he was determined not to -be taken. Undoubtedly he had been drawn into a trap, and howsoever -innocent he was, it might be impossible to prove that he was guiltless -in the face of the enmity of Mrs. Gilroy and Julius. Also, there was the -evidence of Jane to be reckoned with, and she was doubtless a tool in -the hands of her superiors. Bernard wanted to gain a place of refuge, so -that he might think over his position and communicate with Durham and -Conniston. They might be able to help him in this dilemma. - -It was impossible to remain in the High Street, seeing that every moment -he ran a chance of falling into the arms of a policeman. He therefore -turned down a side street and raced through Cheniston Gardens. His -pursuer, still close on his heels, followed, and by this time another -officer had joined. Bernard made up his mind and ran for the river. He -crossed Cromwell Road, Fulham Road, sped through Elm Park Gardens, and -down to Chelsea. Many were after him by the time he reached the river's -bank. Only one chance remained. He plunged into the stream and the fog -covered his retreat. - -"It's all up," said the policeman, who heard the plunge. "He'll be -drowned." - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - A MAIDEN GENTLEWOMAN - - -"Hurseton, in Essex, lies about ten miles from the coast, and is -elevated on a wide plateau whence can be obtained a fine and picturesque -view of the famous marshes. It is a quaint, old-world village, gathered -round an ancient Saxon Cross, which occupies the centre of the village -green. The church--eleventh century--is dedicated to St. Peter, and is, -for the most part, sunken in the ground owing to its antiquity. The -tower and spire are of wood. Many of the gentry have country seats in -this popular vicinity. The rising watering-place of Market-on-Sea, five -miles distant, is much frequented by Londoners during the holiday -season. Hurseton can be reached from town by rail a little over the -hour." - -So far the guide-book; but the above-mentioned gentry referred to -therein were not at all pleased by the advertisement, as many of the -cheap trippers came to visit the place from Market-on-Sea, and by no -means improved the countryside with their rowdy manners. Miss Berengaria -Plantagenet was especially wrathful at the yearly plague of sightseers, -and would have put them all in jail had she been able. She was a -dignified old lady, small in stature, with a withered rosy face, white -hair, and eyes as keen as those of a robin, if not so shallow. Her -mansion--so she called it--stood at the end of the village, a little way -back from the long, straight road which ran towards the coast and the -marshes. But the term mansion was rather a misnomer. The place had -originally been a small farmhouse, and Miss Berengaria--as she was -usually called--had added to it considerably, so that it formed an -irregular pile of buildings, all angles and gables, sloping roofs and -stacks of twisted chimneys. Some of it was thatched, a portion was -covered with mellow red tiles, and a kind of round turret, quite out of -keeping with the rest of the building, was slated. Every species of -architecture was represented in "The Bower," and the name did not fit it -in the least. But Miss Berengaria had dwelt in it for forty years--ever -since she had been disappointed in love--and, being a lady of singularly -independent character, she gave the house its odd appellation. The low -pile of buildings--for the most part of these did not exceed one story -in height--looked quaint and queer, but then Miss Berengaria was queer -herself. - -Every morning she could be seen in her garden snipping and picking and -clipping and scolding. The gardens were divided from the highroad by a -low hedge of holly and hawthorn, carefully trimmed, and presented a -pleasant spectacle of lawn and flower-beds. In summer the place was gay -with cottage flowers, for Miss Berengaria, being old-fashioned herself, -would have no new-fangled importations. The flowers she loved were -snapdragon, sweet-william, heart's-ease, and all those homely blossoms -such as John Bunyan loved. The house was covered with Virginia creeper, -wistaria and ivy, and through the thick growth peeped the latticed -windows under heavy eyebrows of gray thatch. It might have been a -cottage out of a fairy tale for quaintness; and its mistress might have -been a fairy herself in stature and oddity. The villagers liked her, -though she was rather dreaded. - -"A sharp old lady," said the host of the Conniston Arms, "and quite the -lady, bless you! though she do keep fowls and ducks and though she do -sell her fruit. She looks like a gipsy by way of dress in the day, but -when she claps her diamonds on at night, bless you! she's as grand as -the queen herself." - -This report was perfectly true. Miss Berengaria always dressed--as she -put it--anyhow during the day; but at night she appeared in silver gray -silk covered with costly lace, and wearing jewels of great value. She -had a weakness for jewels, and had many, which she wore every evening. -People hinted that she would be robbed, as the cottage was situated in -rather a solitary position, and a quarter of a mile from the village. -But Miss Berengaria was a stout-hearted old lady and laughed such ideas -to scorn. - -As it was now winter, Miss Berengaria was attired in a wincey dress -with a tartan shawl, and wore rubber boots on her feet and large -gardener's gloves on her hands. Having finished clipping and -pruning--she kept no gardener, saying she knew more than a trained -professional--she tripped round to the back of the house, where a -colony of fowls, pigeons, ducks, turkeys and geese welcomed her coming -with much noise. Her hobby--amongst others--was fowl-farming, and she -gave up a large portion of her time to rearing and fattening birds for -the market. As her income was five thousand a year there was no need for -her to work so hard, but she was out at all times and in all weathers -attending to her feathered pets. A particularly ugly bull-dog, called -Sloppy Jane, accompanied her. Miss Berengaria did not approve of the -name, but the dog would answer to no other, so it had to be adopted. -Sloppy Jane was devoted to her mistress and to Alice. While Miss -Berengaria was feeding the fowls and wondering when the gong would sound -for breakfast, Alice came out with a paper in her hand. She was a tall, -slim girl with a fair face and brown eyes and hair. Not particularly -pretty, perhaps, but with such a sweet expression and such a charming -disposition that young men fell in love with her on the spot. Nor after -a closer acquaintance did any see fit to change their opinions. Had Sir -Simon seen her he might have approved of Bernard's choice, but there -being a standing quarrel between the old baronet and Miss Berengaria, on -the rights of a footpath, the old man had never come near "The Bower" -for years. The old gentlewoman, in spite of a rather sharp manner, was -fond of Alice, and Miss Malleson was devoted to her. The morning was -sharp and cold, but there was a blue sky and occasional glints of -sunshine. "And I shouldn't wonder if we had snow," said Miss Berengaria, -looking up. "Perhaps a snowy Christmas. Ah, we had them when I was a -girl. But there! the weather's deteriorated like everything else." - -"Aunt," said Alice, in a faint voice--Miss Berengaria always liked to -hear the name, although she was no relative--"Aunt!" - -At the sound of the faint voice the old dame wheeled round--she was -active in spite of being eighty years of age--and uttered an exclamation -on seeing the white face of the girl. Alice was deathly pale and, -clinging with one hand to some wire netting, held a newspaper in the -other. "What's the matter, child? Anything wrong?" - -"Bernard?" gasped Alice. "Oh, Bernard! Bernard!" - -"This must be looked into," said Miss Berengaria, using her favorite -expression. "Something is wrong with that silly boy. What's he been -doing, child? It must be something bad if it's in the paper." - -"I don't believe he did it," said Alice, trembling. "He is innocent." - -Miss Berengaria trembled also and sat down. "Don't hint at horrors, -Alice," she said, with an effort at self-command. "I'm not fit for such -things. I don't suppose the boy's killed anyone--though, to be sure, as -he's a soldier now, it's his trade." - -"Murder!" - -"Eh! What's that? Murder, Alice!" The old lady's ruddy cheeks grew -white, and she stretched out her hand for the paper. "Show me!" she said -resolutely. - -Alice did not hand her the paper. She seemed almost incapable of -understanding what was said. - -"Bernard is dead!" she moaned. - -"Dead! Great Heavens!" - -"He is drowned. It's all in the paper. It's all--Oh--oh!" - -Breaking off suddenly she dropped the paper, and fled towards the house -like a creature suddenly aroused to life. Miss Berengaria did not lose a -moment. With an activity wonderful in a woman of her years she sprang to -her feet, and hurried up the path round to the front of the house, -following in the wake of the weeping girl. She saw Alice disappear into -the porch and enter the breakfast-room, where the meal was already -waiting. There, on the hearth-rug, Alice fell prone. Miss Berengaria -knelt down and took her hand. She had not fainted, but, cold and -shivering, was sobbing as though her heart would break. And perhaps it -would, under this unexpected and terrible calamity. Bernard was her -idol, and now he was dead, and his memory fouled with the accusation of -an awful crime. - -Finding that Alice still had her senses Miss Berengaria nodded and sat -down. "The best thing for you, my dear," she said in a soft voice. "Weep -your heart out, while I read the paper." - -These words sound rather heartless, but the old lady did not intend them -to be so. She realized that tears would relieve the strain on the almost -stunned girl, and welcomed them gladly. Alice knew that her friend spoke -for the best, but she gave no sign as, lying prone on the rug, she -concealed her agonized face, while Miss Berengaria adjusting her -spectacles, glanced through the paper. Already the gong had sounded, the -meal smoked on the table, and there was no fear of interruptions by the -servants. But neither Miss Berengaria nor Alice was able to eat in the -face of this bolt from the blue. - -"Where is it, my dear?--oh, here! Murder and Suicide. A nice heading, -upon my word. Rubbish! I don't believe a word of it." - -"Read! Read!" moaned the girl at her feet. - -"Alice," said Miss Berengaria, severely, "before reading a word I tell -you that I don't believe a word of it. Bernard, though a silly boy, -would not kill a fly, nor would he kill himself. Murder and Suicide! Oh, -rubbish--rubbish!" - -"But you know, and I know, he quarrelled with his grandfather." - -Miss Berengaria looked at the girl's white face as she half crouched, -half sat on the rug, with her eyes wild and her brown hair in disorder. - -"I don't see what Sir Simon has to do with it," said she, tartly. - -"He is dead." - -"Dead!"--Miss Berengaria shivered. "You don't mean to say that." - -"Read! Read! Everything is against him--everything. Oh, how can I bear -my life? How can I live?" - -"Alice," said the old dame again, although she was very white, "if this -lying paper means to say that Bernard murdered Sir Simon, I tell you -again that I don't believe a word of it. You, who love him, ought to -believe in his innocence." - -"But the evidence." - -"A fig for evidence. Circumstantial evidence has hanged an innocent man -before now. Bernard Gore kill that old tyrant----?" - -"Hush! He is dead!" - -"And so we are to speak well of him," snapped Miss Berengaria. "Oh, -well"--she rubbed her nose--"we'll tell lies about him like the majority -of tombstones do of those who lie below, but I tell you, foolish girl -that you are, Bernard did not kill the old man, nor did he kill -himself." - -"But the paper says----" - -"I don't care what the paper says," said Miss Berengaria, resolutely. -"No, indeed. I am a better judge of character than any paper. That poor -boy was vilely treated by that--there! there! I won't say a word against -Sir Simon. He's dead, and we must be lenient. But Bernard Gore is -innocent. Before I read I tell you that." - -"I hope it may be so," cried Alice, clasping her hands. - -"It is so," said the other, sharply and in a truly feminine way. "All I -know is that Sloppy Jane adored him, and she's not the dog to adore -anyone who would shed blood." - -Alice could not but see that this reasoning was not based on facts. But, -all the same, ridiculous though it was, she derived a certain comfort -from it. Miss Berengaria, who had been thus optimistic to quieten the -poor girl, nodded, when Alice took a seat in the opposite chair more -composed, and addressed herself to mastering the facts of the case. -Alice, with clasped hands, stared at the old lady as she read silently -but with frequent raising of her eyebrows and sometimes a sniff. The -paper stated that Sir Simon and his grandson, Bernard, were enemies, -that the young man, having been hanging round the house for a fortnight -courting the housemaid, had secured an interview with the elder when -Miss Randolph was at the theatre. He had evidently quarrelled with Sir -Simon, and, having chloroformed him, had quietly strangled him with his -own handkerchief, after which he left the house. Then followed an -account of the pursuit and failure to capture Gore. "He escaped the -officers by plunging into the river," said the journal. "Next morning -his khaki coat and hat were found on the opposite bank, so doubtless he -got rid of them when attempting to swim. But what, with the cold and the -fog, undoubtedly he must have succumbed to the force of the current." -Finally the paper stated that an inquest would be held within two days -on the dead body. At the conclusion of this somewhat bald article, Miss -Berengaria gave a short laugh and threw down the paper. "I don't believe -a word of it," she said, folding her arms, "and I'm going up to London." - -"What for, aunt?" - -"To see into the matter myself. I believe that Beryl creature is -responsible for the whole thing." - -"But see," said Alice, picking up the paper, "he was at the theatre with -Lucy and a Mrs. Webber." - -"I don't care. Failing Bernard, Julius comes in for the money." - -"He comes in for it even without that," said Alice, bitterly. "Don't you -remember that Sir Simon disinherited Bernard because he would not give -me up? I implored Bernard, for his own sake, to break our engagement, -but he refused. He gave up all for me, and now he is dead--dea--dead. -Oh," sobbed Alice, "how unhappy I am!" - -"How foolish you are," said Miss Berengaria, her eyes hard and bright. -"Do you think a man, who could act towards you in so noble a way, would -commit a cowardly murder, and then shirk the consequences? Not at all. -I'm ashamed of you. I once loved," said the old lady, rising and -marching energetically about the room, "and my lover was a fool and a -villain. Bernard is neither. He is a fine fellow, God bless him and -bring him safely out of this trouble! He shall have my help--yes, my -best help," added Miss Berengaria nodding. - -"But he is dead." - -"He is not dead, you weak-minded, silly, hysterical girl. That sort of -man has as many lives as a cat. He's alive, to vindicate his reputation -and to bring home the crime to the real assassin." - -"But who can that be?" asked Alice, comforted by this assurance. - -"I don't know," said Miss Berengaria, taking a seat at the table. "Come -and pour out my coffee, and eat." - -Alice dragged herself to the table and took up the silver pot. "I can't -eat," she said faintly. - -"Yes, you can; and, what's more, you're going to. No nonsense with me, -miss. You and I have a hard task before us." - -"What is that?" - -Miss Berengaria laid down her knife and fork with which she was about to -carve a piece of bacon. "Well, I am astonished," she said, glaring. "In -my young days a girl in love would have been ashamed to make such a -speech. Why, bless me! haven't we got to prove Bernard's innocence?" - -"Will that bring him to life?" said Alice, bitterly. - -"It would, if it were necessary; but it isn't. Bernard's in hiding." - -"Can you be sure?" - -"Alice Malleson," said the resolute old dame, "if you were younger I -would shake you and send you to bed on bread and water. You don't -deserve to be loved by such a man. He gave up all for you, and you -believe the worst of him." - -"Bernard has a temper, and he might have--" - -"But he didn't. I know he has a temper. I admire his temper. I saw him -thrash a tramp for throwing away a loaf of bread, and that warmed my -heart towards him. Had I married the villain I didn't marry, and he -hadn't been such a villain as he was, I would have had a son just like -Bernard--perhaps two or three. Dear! dear, what a loss to the British -Empire that I never married." - -In spite of her grief Alice could not help smiling at this way of -putting things. But certainly Miss Plantagenet was right. Had she been a -mother, her dauntless nature was of the sort that would have bred brave -sons for the motherland. The old lady was one of those strong people -always to be relied upon in time of calamity. The worse the trouble the -quicker Miss Berengaria rose to the occasion. She prided herself on -facing facts, alleging that only in this way could things be settled. At -the present moment she acknowledged silently to herself that things -looked black against Bernard Gore and that he really might be dead for -all she knew. But to Alice she refused to admit these thoughts. - -"This must be looked into," she said energetically, "and I am going up -to town to see about the matter. When I have heard the evidence at the -inquest I'll know how to shape my course." - -"What will you do?" asked Alice, brightening under this optimism. - -"When acquainted with the facts," said Miss Berengaria, rolling up her -napkin, "and when I have formed my theory--" - -"Your theory, aunt?" - -"Yes! My theory as to who murdered the old--Well, it's Sir Simon I -mean--we must be lenient to his memory. But when I have formed my theory -I'll see a detective and place the matter in his hands. I shall then -advertise for Bernard and we must see if we can't get him to come here." - -"He would be arrested if he did." - -"Not at all. I know where to hide him. There's the haunted room in the -turret. If he were hidden there no one could find him. And if anyone of -my servants--my good servants," said the old dame, emphatically, -"denounces him I'll eat my hat, and that's a vulgar expression," added -she, as she placed the napkin on the table with a smart tap. "Child, -come and help me to dress. I shall leave by the mid-day train. You can -send all letters to the Waterloo Hotel, Guelph Street." - -"But I am coming also," said Alice, rising resolutely. - -"No, you are not," rejoined Miss Berengaria, patting the hand laid on -her shoulder, and turning back from the door. "Though I am glad to see -that you are ready to help." - -"Who has the right to help my darling but I?" - -"Ah!" Miss Berengaria rubbed her nose with satisfaction. "It does my -heart good to hear you talk sense. Is Bernard innocent?" - -"Yes," said Alice, emphatically. - -"Is he alive?" - -The girl faltered, but Miss Berengaria's eyes were on her, and she -faltered out a faint "Yes." - -"Not so strong as you ought to be," said the aunt, sadly. "My dear, you -must believe that he is alive, because he is. I have no reason to give, -so don't ask me for one. He is alive, and all you have to do is to -remain here and watch for his coming. Yes. It is more than probable that -Bernard will come here." - -"But the danger," said Alice, faintly. - -"Bernard knows neither you nor I will give him up, and this is the place -he will come to. The poor soul is being hunted down, I daresay. But he -knows where to come to, bless him! Watch, my dear child. It is probable -he will come at night. Then take him to the turret room, and tell the -servants to hold their tongues. What's that?" - -It was a demure old woman--all Miss Berengaria's servants were aged--who -advanced with a telegram for Alice. With shaking fingers, the girl -opened it. "From Mr. Durham," she said. "He is Bernard's lawyer and -wants me to come to see him at once." - -"No," said Miss Berengaria, taking the telegram from her. "I'll go -myself. You stay here and wait for the coming of that poor boy." - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - BERNARD'S FRIENDS - - -The report of the murder caused great excitement in London. It seemed -terrible that so old a man, and a titled man at that, should be murdered -in his own house and by his profligate grandson. The general opinion was -that Bernard should not only be hanged, but drawn and quartered, as his -crime amounted to parricide. But this vengeful demand was made only by -the extreme people, and the newspapers were on the whole very fair in -their statements. Although it seemed quite certain that young Gore was -guilty, yet the journals gave him the benefit of the doubt. Not till -after the inquest did any newspaper venture to state that the man had -really committed the crime. But this was as it should be, if the fair -play instinct of the English race is to be lived up to. - -Durham attended the inquest as Sir Simon's lawyer and executor, and Miss -Plantagenet attended it with him. She saw the solicitor only for a few -minutes and they had little time to exchange opinions. But Durham -assured Miss Berengaria that he was certain Bernard was innocent, upon -which the old gentlewoman clapped him on the back. Her good opinion was -strengthened at the inquest by the sturdy way in which the lawyer -maintained this point. - -Beryl was also present with Inspector Groom. He looked pale and somewhat -worried, and when his eyes fell on the withered, resolute face of Miss -Berengaria, he winced, knowing she was a firm friend to his cousin. As -yet the body of the young man had not been found, and both Durham and -Miss Plantagenet were certain that Bernard was still alive. But the -general opinion was that he had been drowned while escaping. Mrs. Gilroy -was also present with Lucy, and these sat in the body of the court near -Miss Berengaria. That old dame knew well that the housekeeper was no -friend to the accused man, but she was not certain as regards Lucy. As -Miss Randolph was engaged to Beryl, whom Miss Berengaria disliked -heartily, she was prepared to think badly of the girl, going by the -proverb that like draws to like. She therefore waited to hear Lucy's -evidence before speaking to her, and although she was quite near her -never turned her head to look or make any sign of recognition. - -Inspector Groom, who was called first, detailed how he had been summoned -in to see the dead body of the baronet, and related what evidence he had -gathered, and gave also the names of the witnesses he proposed to call. -Amongst these were Jane and the cook, also the page, for these three -domestics had frequently seen the soldier who had courted Jane, and who -was believed to be Bernard Gore. Durham, on the authority of Bernard, -did not believe this, but he waited his time before contradicting the -evidence. - -After Groom came a doctor, who deposed to having examined the body, and -gave it as his opinion that the deceased had been strangled some time -after ten o'clock. Before being strangled he had been rendered -unconscious by chloroform, thus had fallen an easy victim to the -assassin. Mention was made of the bandana handkerchief with which the -strangulation had been effected, and it was produced in court; but the -handkerchief steeped in chloroform which had been bound round the mouth -was missing. It was a white one according to the evidence of the -housekeeper, and had been loosened from the mouth by Bernard himself -when she brought him up to look on his victim. Groom expressed annoyance -at this, as the handkerchief was an important piece of evidence. Being -white it could not have belonged to the deceased, who used only colored -bandana handkerchiefs. Therefore it was probable that the assassin had -used his own, and the name on the corner would have settled the question -beyond doubt. But the handkerchief was lost, and there was no more to be -said. Groom hoped to prove Gore's guilt by the evidence of his other -witnesses. - -Julius Beryl deposed that Bernard and Sir Simon were at variance, and -Mrs. Gilroy gave evidence about the quarrel which had taken place at the -Hall when the young man had been turned away. She swore that Bernard -then made use of threatening language and had hinted he would throw his -grandfather out of the window. She also explained the cause of the -quarrel and the name of Alice was mentioned, much to the wrath of Miss -Plantagenet. Afterwards the housekeeper went on to state that Bernard -had visited in Crimea Square. She had never seen him, as he was always -smuggled out of sight by Jane when she was heard approaching the -kitchen. But on the night of the murder Gore had presented himself at -the door after ten o'clock and had intimated that Sir Simon desired to -see him, having sent down a message to the kitchen to that effect. - -Coroner: "Who carried the message?" - -Mrs. Gilroy: "The page, William. Mr. Gore was alarmed and left the house -at once, refusing to come up. Afterwards he had apparently changed his -mind, for he came to the door. I took him up to Sir Simon and left them -alone." - -Coroner: "Did you see the meeting?" - -Mrs. Gilroy: "No. I pushed Mr. Gore into the room then went down to -wait. But I think Sir Simon was disposed to be friendly. Mr. Gore -remained upstairs for about fifteen minutes, then left the house -hurriedly. I saw him go out of the door. I called after him. He did not -answer. I then ran upstairs, and found Sir Simon dead. I came down again -and ran out in pursuit of Mr. Gore, crying out, 'Murder!' He was almost -on the doorstep and came into the house with me. He denied that he had -killed his grandfather and loosened the two handkerchiefs. Then the -police came and he escaped." - -She persisted in her statements, and said calmly that young Gore had -certainly killed the old man. At the interview at the Hall, she had -heard him use the word "strangle," and Sir Simon had been murdered in -that way. - -Lucy Randolph also gave evidence as to the quarrel. "Bernard had a fiery -temper," she said, weeping, "and when Sir Simon spoke badly of Miss -Malleson, he threatened to throw Sir Simon out of the window. I did not -hear him use the word strangle. I never saw him when he came to the -kitchen at Crimea Square, and it was only two days before the murder -that Mrs. Gilroy recognized him by the description given by the -housemaid. I am quite friendly with Bernard." - -This evidence led to that of Jane, the housemaid. She was shown a -photograph of Gore and swore positively that it was the face of the -young soldier who had courted her. Before Sir Simon came to Crimea -Square she had met him in the Park. He was in the uniform of the -newly-formed Imperial Yeomanry. He made love to her, and asked if he -might come to the house. He also seemed to be very inquisitive about Sir -Simon. He came many times, and was introduced to the cook. Also William, -the page, saw him. He called himself Bernard, nothing more, and did not -make use of his name of Gore. Whenever Mrs. Gilroy was heard coming he -always hid himself. He seemed afraid to meet her. Both witness and cook -connived at the concealment as they feared the rebuke of the -housekeeper. On the night of the crime a message came from Sir Simon by -the page, William, asking Bernard to step upstairs. He displayed great -alarm, and went away at once, saying he might return to see Sir Simon -after ten. Witness gave other evidence, but the important point was, -that she identified the photograph as that of Bernard Gore. Also the -name was the same. - -The cook and the page also identified the photograph as that of Mr. -Gore. Evidence was then given by an officer of the Imperial Yeomanry as -to Gore calling himself Bernard alone. He was known as Corporal Bernard. -On the night of the murder he had obtained leave of absence to dine with -a friend and had left the barracks before five. It was between five and -six, according to the cook, that Bernard was in the kitchen. Bernard, -added the officer, was not expected back till close on midnight. Since -then nothing had been heard of him. - -Durham then stepped into the box and stated that Gore had dined with him -at his house on Camden Hill. There was another mutual friend present. -Bernard had arrived at seven at the house and had left it at ten -o'clock. Witness produced Sir Simon's letter stating that Gore was -courting the housemaid Jane. But Durham swore that Bernard had denied -this, and said that he had not been near the house. "Indeed," added the -witness, "he did not know the whereabouts of the house till I told him." - -Coroner: "Then he must have gone from your house direct to Crimea -Square." - -Durham: "I can't understand why he should do so. He had no intention of -going, and certainly he had no idea of killing Sir Simon. I am quite -convinced that he is innocent." - -This expression produced incredulous smiles, as by this time everyone -present was certain that Gore was the culprit. Thanks to Durham's -representations Dick West (_alias_ Lord Conniston) was not called. It is -needless to say that the real name of this witness was not known. Had it -been public the Coroner would have doubtless insisted on his production, -if only to swell the scandal of the case by the addition of a title. - -In summing up the Coroner was quite on the side of the prosecution and -public opinion was with him. He pointed out that the evidence of the -cook, the housemaid, the page and the officer all showed that Bernard -Gore and Corporal Bernard were one and the same. Also there was the -evidence of Mrs. Gilroy, who opened the door at ten o'clock to the man -himself. Without doubt Gore was the person who had called to see his -grandfather. As to the motive for the commission of the crime, the jury -could see for themselves that there was a strong one. Mr. Beryl's -evidence showed that a bitter quarrel existed, and this was confirmed -both by Miss Randolph and Mrs. Gilroy. Even the word "strangled" had -been used, and in that way Sir Simon had met with his death. Without -doubt Gore, furious at being disinherited, had called to see Sir Simon, -to see if he could be reinstated. Doubtless, as both had fiery tempers, -a quarrel had taken place, and then the younger man, having rendered the -older one unconscious by means of chloroform, had murdered him. It was -certainly inexplicable that he should have returned to the house, but -then the jury must take into consideration that perhaps Gore thought -such a bold course might prove his innocence. Finally, his escape showed -that he was guilty, as had he been an innocent man, he would have faced -the matter out. It would seem that the criminal was dead. He had fallen -into the hands of God, and thus had not escaped punishment. But on the -facts before them the jury would have to give their verdict. - -Biased both by the evidence and by the Coroner's speech, the jury -brought in a verdict of guilty against Bernard Gore. Durham expected the -verdict and so did Miss Plantagenet, but both of them, being Bernard's -firm friends, felt a pang when they heard him thus condemned of wilful -murder. - -"Fools," said Miss Berengaria, as she drove back in her brougham with -Durham to the office of the lawyer. - -"I don't think that," expostulated Durham. "Under the circumstances the -jury could hardly bring in a different verdict." - -"You know that Bernard is innocent," snapped the lady. - -"Certainly! But on the evidence before them--" - -"A fig for the evidence!" interrupted Miss Berengaria. "I go by my own -knowledge of the boy. He wouldn't kill a fly." - -"Ah! But you see, the men on the jury never met Bernard." - -Finding the lawyer too strong for her, Miss Berengaria changed the -subject, being determined not to acknowledge defeat. "Have you heard -from young Gore?" she asked. - -"No. He may be drowned for all I know." - -"For all you know, and you know nothing." - -"More's the pity, Miss Plantagenet. Did I know anything I might be able -to satisfy myself that Gore is alive." - -"Of course he is alive." - -"On what ground do you say that?" asked Durham, surprised. - -"On the grounds of common sense. Bernard is not the man to die when his -living is needed to prove his innocence." - -This was so truly a feminine argument that Durham, with a shrug, held -his tongue. "There's no more to be said," he remarked. - -"I know that," snapped Miss Berengaria in a bad humor. "I am quite upset -by all the rubbish those fools have been talking. What's to be done -next?" - -"I shall go down to Gore Hall and read the will." - -"Ha!" said the old lady, brightly. "Can you do that until you are sure -of the death of Bernard?" - -"Yes. He may be dead after all--" - -"He isn't, I tell you." - -"Then it is all the better he should be thought to be so," said Durham, -giving up the point in the face of this firm opposition. - -"Why?" asked Miss Berengaria promptly. - -"Because no search will be made for Gore should he be alive and in -hiding. Yet I fear Beryl will search." - -"I don't see why he should. Oh, I see what you mean. Sir Simon, the -horrid old--Well, we'll say nothing about that. But he has left the -money to Beryl, after disinheriting Bernard for keeping faith with my -poor Alice." - -"Not exactly that," said Durham, hesitating. "I can't tell you the -contents of the will, Miss Plantagenet, as--" - -"I know," she snapped. "You needn't tell me that. I'll come to the Hall -and hear it read. But, of course, I know it already." - -"In that case there's no more to be said," replied the solicitor, -suppressing a smile. Miss Berengaria saw it. - -"Ha!" said she, sharply and pondering. "So Bernard's not disinherited -after all." - -"I never said so." - -"You smiled. That's quite enough for me. 'A nod's as good as a wink to a -blind horse.' Not that I'm a horse or blind. Thank God I have my -eyesight and can read print with glasses. Well, keep your professional -secrets, but tell me this: Will Beryl--the deuce take him--hunt for -Bernard?" - -"Not if he thinks he is drowned, as is probable," said Durham, rather -surprised at hearing strong language from the lips of the lady. - -"And if he thinks otherwise?" - -"He will certainly hunt," replied the lawyer determinedly. - -"Ha!" said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose. "So that's it, is it?" - -"What do you mean, Miss Plantagenet?" - -"That Bernard has not been disinherited. That old scamp--no, we must -talk better of him--that the good old man who is dead repented and left -the money to his rightful heir. What a joke!" Miss Berengaria chuckled. -"There! there!" she went on, catching Durham's eyes. "It's all right. -You have told me nothing. I can guess. Well, well, we must wait till the -will is read. Then we shall see what is to be done to prove Bernard's -innocence." - -"That will be a hard task," said Durham, with a sigh; then added, with -some little hesitation, "Miss Plantagenet, should Beryl make advances to -you in the way of friendship receive them." - -"Hum," said the lady. "I detest the fellow." - -"But for Bernard's sake--" - -"What plan have you in your head?" she asked sharply and peering into -his troubled face. - -"None. But I think that after the reading of the will--" - -Miss Plantagenet chuckled. "After the reading--well?" - -"Beryl may make advances to you." - -"I will receive them. But if he thinks I will tell him where Bernard is -to be found he is mistaken." - -"You don't know where he is, or if he is alive," said Durham, astonished -to find how quickly she fathomed his thoughts. - -"True enough. But I will know before many days are over my head. I quite -expect that Bernard will communicate with Alice, and of course she will -tell me. As Beryl will find that the money is left to--" - -"I did not say that," interrupted Durham, quickly, as the brougham -stopped at the office door. - -"To Bernard," went on Miss Berengaria, coolly, "he will try and learn if -he is dead or alive. If dead he will--no, I can't say what he will do as -I don't know if the money, failing Bernard, is left to him. But if he -thinks Bernard is alive he will hunt him down so as to get the money." - -Durham stepped out of the brougham rather afraid of the old dame. She -was so clever that she seemed to read his most secret thoughts. He was -glad the drive was at an end, and held out his hand to say good-bye. To -his surprise and vexation Miss Berengaria stepped out at his heels. "I'm -coming in to talk," she said, and marched up the steps. "I go down -to-night to Hurseton, and I want to arrange what is to be done. Not a -word, young man. I am Bernard's friend and so are you. If we don't -combine it's all up with the poor fool." Durham followed the energetic -lady with a feeling of helplessness, not knowing very well how to get -rid of her. And he had particular reasons for not having her in the -office. Conniston was coming to see him, and a meeting between him and -his aunt might be productive of trouble. Not that Miss Plantagenet was -his aunt, as she was only a distant relative. But she always styled -herself so, and would answer to no other term. Durham regretted that he -had accepted the lady's offer to be driven to his office. But it was too -late by this time, for Miss Berengaria was in the room. And in the room -also sat Lord Conniston, now out of uniform, and looking much excited. - -"Ha!" said Miss Plantagenet, not recognizing the young man, "and who is -this?" She turned to Durham, who shot past her, making a sign of silence -to his friend. - -"A client of mine. Will you leave us for a moment, Conniston?" - -The name slipped out before he was aware, and he could have stamped with -vexation to see how quickly Miss Berengaria grasped the situation. With -a grim smile she looked at the astonished young man. "So you are Dick," -she said looking at him through a double eyeglass. "I haven't seen you -since you made yourself sick in my garden. Bernard told Alice by letter -that he met you. Where are you staying?" - -"I don't understand," stammered Conniston, while Durham, giving up Miss -Plantagenet as impossible, sat shuffling his papers. - -"You ought not to be dense. Don't you remember me boxing your ears?" - -Conniston burst out laughing. "Oh! by Jove! It's Cousin Berengaria." - -"Aunt Berengaria," reproved Miss Plantagenet, giving him her hand. "I -don't like league-long names. Come and sit down and tell me all about -yourself." - -"Miss Plantagenet," said Durham, hastily. "Lord Conniston and I have met -to talk of Bernard." - -"Then I'll form a third," said the old lady, sitting. "Dick--I shall -call you Dick," she interpolated--"you are Bernard's friend, as his -letter to Alice was all about you. Are you going to desert him?" - -"No," said Conniston, taking her entirely into his confidence. "I have -chucked the service to see him through his trouble." - -"Chucked what service?" - -"The army. I was going to the front. But I'll stop till I prove the -innocence of Bernard, Aunt Berengaria." - -"You don't know that he is alive, Conniston," said the lawyer. - -"Ah, but I do," replied Dick. "Here's a letter from Bernard. He is safe -and sound hiding at Cove Castle." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - BERNARD'S ENEMIES - - -The deceased baronet was buried in the family vault under St. Peter's -Church, with all the pomp of wealth. Sir Simon had never been popular, -and had been known widely as a hard, gripping man. Yet his tragic fate, -and a certain pity therefore, had drawn together a large concourse of -people. Distant relatives who hoped to be mentioned in the will were -present clothed in deepest black, although they cared very little for -the dead. Julius, who already regarded himself as in possession of Gore -Hall, was there with a long face and a satisfied heart. He was glad that -he had inherited the wealth after which he had long hungered, and -gladder still that his rival, Bernard, was dead with a stain on his -name. In fancied security he moved along, not knowing what retribution -was in store for him. Even the pitying angels must have laughed at his -complacency. - -Durham, as the solicitor and executor of the dead man, was present and -directed operations. Conniston had gone to Cove Castle to see Bernard -and hear his story; and Durham smiled as his eyes rested on the smug -face of the presumed heir. There was no love lost between the two men, -and Julius privately determined that, when in possession of the -property, he would place the legal business in the hands of another -solicitor. The young lawyer guessed somewhat of this, and smiled -ironically as he thought how this spite would be frustrated. - -From far and near people were gathered, for the murder had made a great -stir. Everyone united in condemning Bernard, and not one person in the -throng thought him innocent. Lucy was weeping alone at the Hall, with -Mrs. Gilroy offering her such cold comfort as she could think of. For -the girl was truly sorry for her cousin, although she believed him to be -guilty. But her theory was that Bernard had been goaded into committing -the rash act by the bitter tongue of his grandfather. It was a matter of -disagreement between her and Julius that she should so mourn the -downfall and death of Bernard. He reprovingly advised her to keep her -tears for Sir Simon, from whose death both were likely to derive -benefit. But Lucy, in spite of Beryl's evil influence, which had rather -warped her better nature, persisted in weeping for the miserable cousin -who had so suddenly been cut off in the midst of his wickedness. At -least that--in the face of circumstances--was the view she took of the -matter. - -And Alice remained at The Bower, talking over the death with Miss -Plantagenet. Her joy, when the old lady returned with the good news that -Bernard was yet alive, had been painful to witness. She wished to go at -once to Cove Castle, but this Miss Berengaria, by Durham's advice, would -not permit. Suspicion might be excited, so it was decided that Conniston -himself should visit his own castle, as that would seem a natural thing -for him to do. The merest suspicion that Bernard was alive and in hiding -would set the bloodhounds of the law on the trail, and Beryl would be -the first to loosen them. Therefore, Alice waited at home with Miss -Berengaria until the funeral was over. Then they intended to go to the -Hall to hear the will read. Miss Berengaria had some idea of the -punishment that awaited Julius, and would not have been absent for half -of her income. She detested the young man with all the virulence of her -honest nature. And she insisted on Alice coming also, although the girl -was unwilling. This again was by Durham's advice. He wanted both ladies -to understand exactly how matters stood. It would save him the trouble -of an explanation. And then, since he and the two ladies and Conniston -were bent upon proving Bernard's innocence, Durham wanted all who could -be spared--which did not include Conniston to be present, so as to daunt -Bernard's enemies. Should Julius lose his temper over the will, it was -probable that he might say something likely to afford a clue to the true -assassin. And then Mrs. Gilroy was an enemy also, and she might be -unguarded in her speech. Durham had a vague idea that both knew more -than they admitted. As to Lucy, it was impossible to say whether she was -friendly or hostile. - -Sir Simon's body was duly interred, and he left all his wealth behind -him to take up his abode in the dark vault. After the service several -people lingered in the graveyard, but the majority, thinking the -spectacle was at an end, made haste to go. Julius with Durham returned -in the carriage, and the rest of the relatives followed, flocking like -vultures to the feast. While in the carriage Durham thought he would see -if Julius suspected that Bernard had escaped. - -"You have not heard if Gore's body has been found?" he asked. - -"No," said Beryl, raising his pale eyes and looking as sad as any owl. -"I fear he is dead in his sin." - -"You can't be sure if he did sin, Mr. Beryl." - -"The jury thought so." - -"A jury is not always infallible!" - -"I think the case had a fair hearing, Mr. Durham. So far as I am -concerned I should have been pleased had the verdict been otherwise. It -is not pleasant for me to have a relative accused of such a crime. But -since he is dead let his evil rest with him. You will not hear me say a -word against his memory," added the virtuous Julius. - -"Perhaps it will be as well," replied Durham, dryly. "You never were a -friend of Bernard's." - -"All the more praise to me that I should not run him down." - -"Tell me, Beryl, do you really believe he committed the crime?" - -"I answered that indirectly before. Yes, I believe he was guilty." - -"Then it is just as well he is dead." - -"Just as well," asserted Beryl, quickly. - -"You don't think he can have escaped?" - -Julius started. "What makes you think so?" he demanded uneasily. - -"Well, you see, Bernard was a good swimmer, and--" - -"The best swimmer in the world could do nothing against the current of -the Thames on a foggy night. On a fine day I dare say he might have -gained the opposite bank, but in the fog he must have circled round and -round until he was exhausted." - -"Yet, his clothes were discovered on the bank," persisted Durham. "I -wonder if I offered a reward, would anything be discovered?" - -"His corpse might," said Beryl, unpleasantly, "but no reward shall be -offered. Better let sleeping dogs lie." - -"But surely, Mr. Beryl, if you inherit the property, you will seek for -the poor fellow's dead body?" - -"No," replied Julius decisively. "I think it is best to leave things -alone. Bernard committed a vile act, and if his body has been swept out -to sea all the better for his memory and the position of the family. I -shall offer no reward." - -Durham, seeing the young man was absolutely certain of his inheritance, -and that he was prepared to act in a most niggardly spirit, looked out -of the window to hide a smile. "Poor Sir Bernard," he said. - -"Sir Bernard?" questioned the supposed heir, raising his eyebrows. - -"Certainly. On the death of Sir Simon, Bernard took the title!" - -"He hasn't enjoyed it long," said Beryl, with so villainous a sneer that -the lawyer longed to pitch him out of the carriage, "and seeing he is -dead I suppose the title becomes extinct." - -"It does," assented Durham gravely. "Bernard was the only heir in the -direct line." - -Julius shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I'll be quite content with the -money," said he. - -"Here we are," said Durham, as the carriage stopped. "By the way, Miss -Plantagenet and Miss Malleson have come to hear the will read. I hope -you don't object." - -"Yes, I do," retorted Beryl, angrily, as he alighted. "They would have -shown better taste had they remained away." - -"But remember Miss Malleson has lost Bernard." - -"All the better for her. She would have had a miserable life with that -fellow." - -Durham suppressed a violent inclination to punch the man's head, but, -knowing what punishment awaited him, he walked up the steps with a -contemptuous smile. Here was a change indeed from the meek Julius of the -old days. This presumed heir was obnoxious and insolent, thinking he was -absolutely certain of entering into his kingdom. The lawyer was by no -means a vindictive person, but it afforded him a certain amount of -satisfaction when he thought of the irony of the situation. - -However, when Julius reached the drawing room, in which those invited to -hear the will read were assembled, he adopted a more conciliatory -manner. Several relatives were present, and Mrs. Gilroy headed the -servants at the end of the room. Miss Berengaria sat beside Alice in a -recess somewhat screened by the window curtain. But Lucy was nowhere to -be seen. However, when Durham took his seat at a small table and opened -his bag, she entered in deep mourning. Julius went to meet her. - -"Dear Lucy," he said, "we have buried our best friend." - -Lucy made no reply, and, drawing her hand away, walked to where Alice -was seated. She kissed the girl, whom Bernard had loved, in silence; and -in silence was the kiss returned. Even Miss Berengaria, voluble as she -was on all occasions, held her peace. She saw that Lucy was sincerely -sorry for the loss of her cousin, and from that moment she entertained a -better opinion of her. Alice drew Lucy into a seat beside her, and the -two girls sat side by side, while Julius, already assuming the airs of a -master, bade the company welcome. - -"I am glad to see you all," he said in an important voice, "and I am -sure that our deceased relative in his will has done all that his kind -heart inspired him to do. Mr. Durham will now read the will." - -When he sat down some of the relatives smiled at the phrase about a kind -heart, for which the late baronet had been in no wise remarkable. Durham -took no notice of Beryl's little speech, but opened the will and began -to read. Julius listened with a complacent smile, which changed as the -reading went on. - -Legacies were left to nearly all the servants who had been with the -testator a long time. Lucy became entitled to three hundred a year, and -Mrs. Gilroy received one hundred. The sum allotted to her did not -satisfy her, as she frowned when it was mentioned. Beryl's name was not -mentioned, but he did not mind as he was waiting for the disposal of the -residue of the estate. But when Durham read out that the estate had been -left entirely to Bernard Gore, with the exceptions of the above-named -legacies, he started to his feet. - -"That is not the will!" he exclaimed loudly, and with a ghastly white -face. "I am the heir." - -"By a former will," interposed Durham, "or, rather, I should say, by a -will which Sir Simon afterwards destroyed." - -"He disinherited Bernard!" cried Julius savagely. - -"No! the will--this will--which gives Mr. Gore the money was never -cancelled." - -"A new will was prepared leaving all to me. You read it to me yourself -in your office and in the presence of Sir Simon." - -"Quite so," rejoined the lawyer, smoothly folding up the parchment; "but -after you left, Sir Simon, refusing to execute that will, put it into -the fire." - -"It is a lie!" - -"It is the truth," said Durham, his color rising. "I can bring forward -my clerks who were to witness the new will, and they will state that it -was never executed. Sir Simon changed his mind. The estate goes to Sir -Bernard Gore, the new baronet, and as the executor of the will, I will -take charge of all monies and of the property until he comes forward to -claim them." - -"But you know he is dead," said Julius, clenching his hand. - -"I know nothing of the sort. He is supposed to be dead, but we must have -proof of the death. A production of his body will be sufficient, Mr. -Beryl," added Durham, cynically. "I think on your own account you had -better offer that reward I spoke of." - -"You have been playing the fool with me," said Julius, hardly able to -speak for passion. - -"No, I advised you what to do!" - -"One moment," said a precise man who had not been mentioned in the will. -"If young Gore really is dead--which I for one, hope is not the -case--who inherits the money?" - -"There is a codicil to that effect," said Durham, "which I had intended -to read when interrupted by Mr. Beryl." He re-opened the parchment. "In -it Sir Simon leaves the property to charity with the exception of any -legacies. This in the event of Bernard Gore making no will. But the -property has been left unreservedly to him, and, should he be alive, he -has the power to will it to whomsoever he wishes." - -"And if he is dead the property goes to a charity." - -"Yes! I will read the codicil!" and this Durham did to the dismay of the -company. Only Miss Berengaria chuckled. She was delighted to see that -Beryl had been punished, and smiled when she thought how correct had -been her guess when talking to the lawyer. As for Alice, remembering -that Bernard was alive and well, she found it hard to contain her -satisfaction that he had been fairly dealt with. Even the thought of the -crime, under the ban of which he lay, faded for the moment from her -mind. Julius, with a certain malignancy, brought it back to her -recollection. - -"Even if Bernard is not dead he cannot inherit as a felon," said he. - -"Pardon me," interposed the lawyer. "You have yet to prove his guilt." - -"It was proved at the inquest." - -"A jury at an inquest has not the right to condemn a man," said Durham, -sharply. "If Sir Bernard"--Julius winced at the title--"is alive and -comes forward, I shall do my best to prove his innocence." - -"And in any case," said Miss Berengaria in clear tones, "Mr. Beryl does -not benefit." - -Julius turned on her with fury, and seemed on the point of breaking out -into wrathful speech. But his habitual dissimulation came to his aid, -and he suppressed himself. More than that, he attempted to smile. - -"I don't say that I do not feel hurt," he said, with a desperate attempt -at cheerfulness. "Sir Simon distinctly named me as his heir, and, -moreover, asked Mr. Durham to read the new will in which I was named as -such." - -"Perfectly true," said Durham, coldly. "But Sir Simon changed his mind -and burnt the new will. It was never executed, as I say." - -"Sir Simon had every right to do what he liked with his own," said the -diplomatic Beryl, while Miss Berengaria, wondering what was in his mind, -watched him with her keen eyes. "But, as I say, I am hurt. I quite -understood that Sir Simon had disinherited my cousin, but I was prepared -to allow him an income had I received the property." - -"Two hundred a year," said the lawyer. "A munificent offer." - -"It was approved by Sir Simon," said Julius, calmly. "However, it -appears that Sir Simon rescinded the new will--" - -"It was never executed." - -"Then we will say he never executed it. The money goes to Bernard Gore. -So far as I believe he is dead, but I hope Mr. Durham, as the executor -of the estate, will offer a reward to prove if he is dead or alive. - -"With regard to the commission of the crime, the jury at the inquest -found Bernard guilty without one dissenting voice. However, I am willing -to give my cousin the benefit of the doubt, and should he reappear (and -I hope he may) I shall do my best to aid him to prove his innocence. I -hope any words that may have escaped me in the heat caused by a -disappointment will be overlooked." - -Whether any of those present believed this statement it is impossible to -say. Everyone looked down and no response was made, save by Miss -Plantagenet. She rose, and walking across the room, offered her hand to -the disappointed heir. "You are a good young man," she said heartily. -"And I hope you will come and see me." - -Julius, rather taken aback by this invitation from one whom he had cause -to think loved him but little, grasped her hand and thanked her with -great fervency. Her speech was a relief to him, and he sat down with a -calmer face, when the old lady returned to her seat. - -"Why did you do that, aunt?" asked Alice, dismayed. - -"My dear," whispered Miss Berengaria, with a grim smile, "that young man -means mischief. I am taking Mr. Durham's advice and making friends with -him, that I may thwart his plans." - -This was whispered so softly that Lucy did not overhear. Nor, had it -been spoken aloud, would she have attended. Durham had come forward and -was speaking earnestly to her. - -"I trust you will stop at the Hall for the present," he said, "until -Bernard comes home." - -"Will Bernard ever come home?" asked Lucy, sighing. - -"Let us hope so. I doubt if he is dead, and I will not believe he is -until his body is laid before me. As to the crime, I do not believe he -committed it. However, I want you to stay here as the chatelaine of the -Hall. All things will go on as before." - -"Am I to stay, sir?" asked Mrs. Gilroy, coming forward. - -"Yes! nor will the servants be changed. Of course, any of them who wish -to leave can do so. But you--" - -"I will stop on in my old position, if Miss Randolph wishes." - -Lucy nodded. "Yes! let all things remain as they were," she said. - -Mrs. Gilroy made a stiff curtsey and returned to the other servants, who -then filed in an orderly manner out of the room. The relatives also took -their leave, amongst them Julius, now smiling. At the door Lucy said -something to him about Bernard. He smiled darkly. - -"We have yet to prove that Bernard is alive," he said. - -"Danger!" thought Miss Berengaria. "I'll watch you, young man." - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - AT COVE CASTLE - - -Five miles from Hurseton the marshes began and did not end until they -touched the coast. There were acres of mud and reeds and succulent -grasses, interspersed with narrow waterways. In rainy weather this -low-lying land--if it could be called so--almost disappeared under -water, and in summer the poisonous morass exhaled white mists which -caused fever and ague. The people who dwelt on the border of the slough -of despond were rarely healthy, but they were attached to the dismal -neighborhood and refused to move to higher ground where they would have -enjoyed better health. What was good enough for their fathers was good -enough for them, was the argument upon which they based their refusal. - -The road from Hurseton changed where the marshes began to a causeway and -ran solid and high across the treacherous bog towards the coast. Here it -took a sudden turn, and passed through several fishing villages on its -way to Market-on-Sea. And thence between hedges it passed onward to -London, a road once more. Some distance from the curve an arm of the -causeway ran for a quarter of a mile to Cove Castle, which was built on -a firm and elevated spot of ground, near a kind of estuary which -communicated with the sea. The sea itself was only distant half a mile, -and a fine view of it could be obtained from the castle. Why the -building should be called by so high-sounding a name, it is hard to say. -It was simply a large stone house of two story, with a kind of tower at -one end. Formerly, in the reign of Elizabeth, it had been a fort, and -afterwards, falling into decay, had been used by smugglers for the -storing of contraband goods. In the reign of George III., the then Lord -Conniston being disgusted with life, and anxious to isolate himself from -the gay world, in which he had glittered to the detriment of his purse -and health, had bought the property and there had lived and died. At -that time the family possessed several seats and a town house. But the -Georgian Conniston preferred this unhealthy neighborhood, as least -likely to attract his former friends. So no one visited him, and he -lived and died a recluse. Afterwards the castle was deserted again, the -successors of this lordly hermit preferring to live in more healthy -parts. But gradually the property had been sold bit by bit, until, when -Dick, the present lord, inherited, nothing remained to him but Cove -Castle and the few acres around. Also he possessed the family vault, -which was underneath the Church of St. Agnes at the village of Benstow, -three miles away. It was strange that the members of the family should -have decided to be buried in this lonely place, when they could have -rested in some green churchyard in the Midlands. But, seeing that Cove -Castle alone remained to their descendants, it was just as well that the -former holders of the title had entertained this odd idea. The present -Lord Conniston at least retained, out of the wreck of the property, the -vault wherein the remains of his forebears were laid. - -When Conniston arrived at the castle he was met at the door by a -gigantic female of uncommon ugliness, who answered to the name of Selina -Moon. She was large enough to have earned an income by exhibiting -herself in a caravan, being considerably over six feet, and sufficiently -ugly to shame even the witches in Macbeth. Had Mrs. Moon lived in the -Middle Ages, she would assuredly have been put to death for sorcery, as -her looks seemed hardly human. She had the frame of a grenadier and the -voice of a drill sergeant. Her face was large and round and pallid, from -a long life in the midst of the marshes. A few grey hairs on her upper -lip gave her a still more masculine look, and, indeed, the least -observant would have taken her for a man in disguise. She wore a frilled -cap, which surrounded her face like the rays of a sunflower, and wore a -vivid red gown bound at the waist by a yellow scarf. Mrs. Moon loved -bright colors, and apparently, if one could judge from her black eyes -and beaked nose, had something of the gipsy in her. Not so far as -wandering was concerned, though, for she rarely left the castle. This -was because her great size, coupled with her love of finery, provoked -comment from adults and insults from children whenever she ventured -abroad. - -This Amazonian female, from her height of six feet five, looked down on -Conniston with a submissive air. She was as timid as a rabbit, the most -harmless of her sex, and report went, that the late Mr. Moon, who had -been almost a dwarf, had frequently beaten her in spite of her superior -inches. However, the old man was dead, and for many a long day Mrs. Moon -had lorded it over the one servant in the castle. But she still wore her -submissive air, and when her master imperiously demanded a sight of the -gentleman who was expecting him, led the way at once to an upper room. - -"But I wouldn't take everyone," said Mrs. Moon in a thin, high voice -like the midnight wind in a chimney. "He being wishful to keep hisself -quiet. What have he done, my lord?" - -"Nothing," said Conniston, promptly. "He only came down here for a rest. -Do you think he has robbed the bank?" - -"There's worse things than robbing banks," remarked Mrs. Moon, shaking -her frilled cap portentously, "and the worse things is what he's done. -And why shouldn't he tell me his name if he was a babe for innocence?" - -"Didn't he do so when he arrived?" asked Conniston, halting on the -landing with an anxious look. - -"No, my lord, bless your heart! he didn't," said the giantess; "and but -that he had your letter, which was as plain as print----" - -"And _was_ print," interpolated Dick, remembering his caligraphy adapted -to the brains of Mrs. Moon. - -"I shouldn't have let him in. But your lordship said he was to have the -best room, and the best room he has, to say nothing of your lordship's -clothes, he having arrived in tatters like a tramp, which he isn't from -the princely looks of him. No one knows as he is here, he having asked -me to say nothing. But Victoria----" - -"What about her?" asked Conniston, rather sharply, for Victoria was a -small servant, preternaturally sharp and mighty curious. - -"She's allays asking questions as to what he's doing here." - -"Then, don't answer her questions." - -"I don't," said Mrs. Moon, plaintively, "and but that she's so strong -I'd smack her hard. But only Jerry could manage her, and, bless me! your -dear lordship, he's earning his bread in London, though I haven't heard -of him for months." - -"He's not in the place I obtained for him," said Conniston, stopping at -the door of the room indicated by the housekeeper. "He's robbed the till -and bolted." - -Mrs. Moon was not all disturbed. "Just like his poor father, my second -son," said she, shaking the frilled cap again. "He was a wonderful boy -for money and never minded how he got it. Have they jailed Jerry?" she -asked, with great simplicity. - -Conniston could hardly help smiling at the calm way in which she took -the report of her grandson's wickedness. "No, his master turned him out -and gave him another chance." - -"Bless and preserve your dear lordship, Jerry won't take no chance, as I -always said, being advised by the cards. It's the gallers that boy will -come to, and may I not be here to see him dangling at the end of a rope, -much as he may deserve it. Jerry's a bad 'un, for sure, and takes after -my old man's side of the family, several having been choked by the lawr -for thieving and murdering and otherwise taking their enjoyment. Where -is he now?" - -"I don't know, Mrs. Moon. But if he comes here, don't you let him into -the castle and don't you let him know that Mr.--Mr. Grant"--Dick gave -Bernard a new name for the sake of concealment--"is here." - -"Grant!" echoed Mrs. Moon. "But he don't look Scotch." - -"Never you mind what he is. You hold your tongue and make Victoria hold -hers." - -"Only Jerry can manage her," said Mrs. Moon, firmly, "me not being -strong enough for such a tearing cat. If your lordship would speak -yourself----" - -"I'll see to it," interrupted Conniston, quickly. "I'm stopping here for -the night, Mrs. Moon. Can you give me and Mr.--er--Grant a good dinner?" - -"I'll cook it myself, Victoria being fond of burning things and her -pastery being lead for heaviness. The wine your lordship knows----" - -"Is there any of that port left?" - -"Plenty, save what Jerry drank, he being fond of his glass." - -"What! a boy of thirteen, Mrs. Moon!" said Conniston, seriously. "If you -had stifled Jerry in the mud years ago it would have been better for him -and for you." - -Mrs. Moon blew a gigantic sigh. "True enough, your lordship, seeing as -he'll occupy a place in the Chamber of Horrors in the exhibition me and -Moon saw in London. Ah, well, some of his grandfather's people were -hanged and----" - -Conniston waited to hear no more of this domestic Newgate's Calendar, -but abruptly opened the door and entered the room. - -It was a large, airy apartment, with two windows looking on to the -shining expanse of the sea, and well furnished in an old-fashioned way. -In a large grate a fire of logs was briskly burning, so that the -atmosphere was less damp than in the other rooms of the castle. The -furniture was all of black oak, and included a square table, a -comfortable sofa which was drawn up close to the fire, and several -arm-chairs. Also there was a sideboard and a bookcase well supplied with -volumes of works long since out of print. The hangings were of faded -brocade, and the carpet was patched and mended. Here and there was -valuable china and a few silver ornaments. The whole room looked -comfortable and home-like, and rather quaint in its faded and mellow -beauty. - -"Where are you, Bernard?" asked Conniston, seeing the room was empty. - -For answer a window curtain was drawn aside and Gore came out, holding -the heavy steel poker. "It's only you," he said, looking very pale. "I -heard voices and concealed myself behind the curtain. I expected you, -but didn't know but what someone else might come. That servant suspects -me." - -"Not Mrs. Moon," said Conniston, pitying the haggard looks of his -friend. - -"No, Victoria. She is as sharp as a needle and--" - -"Don't distress yourself, old boy," said Dick, taking Gore's hand and -leading him to the sofa upon which he had been apparently lying until -startled by the sound of voices. "Mrs. Moon can be depended upon and -I'll speak to Victoria myself. You are safe here." - -"Are you sure, Dick?" - -"Perfectly sure. And even if you were discovered I could manage to -conceal you in the vaults below the castle." - -"Are there vaults?" asked the fugitive, who was shivering and pale. - -"Yes! The old smugglers used them to store goods and as hiding-places. -There is a passage and door communicating with the arm of the sea which -runs near the castle, and you could easily escape to foreign parts by -means of a boat. Cheer up, old boy," added Dick, clapping his friend on -the back, "you're not dead yet." - -The poor, hunted young fellow threw his arm schoolboy fashion over -Conniston's shoulder. "What a good fellow you are, Dick!" he said. "I -fancied you might believe me guilty." - -"I'd as soon believe myself guilty, you several kinds of ass." - -"And Alice?" asked Bernard, under his breath. - -"She believes you innocent, so does Aunt Berengaria and Durham. Yes! and -Miss Randolph also. She's a ripping girl that. I wish she wasn't engaged -to Beryl, the pig!" - -"What does he say?" asked Gore, warming his hand and casting a look over -his shoulder. - -"He says nothing, because he thinks you are drown-dead, as Mr. Peggotty -would say. And, by Jove! Bernard, I thought you really were dead. You -have no idea what a relief it was when I got your letter. How did you -escape?" - -Bernard passed his hand through his hair and sighed wearily. The strain -through which he had passed, and from which he still suffered, showed -itself in his bloodless cheeks and his wild eyes. At every sound he -started and shook. His nerves, and small wonder, were quite unstrung, -and even while sitting safely beside his old school chum on the sofa -near the fire, he kept a tight hold of him, like a child by its mother's -knee. Seeing this, Conniston rose quickly. Bernard was on his feet in a -moment, startled by the suddenness of the movement. - -"What's the matter?" he demanded, looking anxiously around, and eyeing -both door and window suspiciously. - -"You are the matter," said Conniston, touching the bell. "I must get you -some wine. You look so awfully ill, old chap. This will never do. I tell -you, Bernard, you are all right. I'll stick to you through thick and -thin." - -"But if I was arrested?" - -"You won't be arrested. Everyone thinks you are dead. You'll stay here -until we sift this matter to the bottom, and then you can take your -place again in the world as Sir Bernard Gore." - -"Sir Bernard!" - -"Of course. You inherit the title and the money also." - -"Not the money, Dick?" - -"Yes! Durham told me to tell you, as he couldn't come himself. He is now -reading the will and Beryl will find himself left out in the cold. You -get everything." - -Bernard threw up his hands. "And I'm a hunted fugitive." - -"Steady, old boy. Bite on the bullet. You're a dead man, and will remain -one until we discover who killed your grandfather." - -"And how can we----" - -"Shut up, Bernard!" Conniston made an imperative sign as a knock came -to the door. Gore at once turned his face to the fire and began to -arrange the logs, while Lord Conniston spoke to a sharp, dark, wizen -child who entered the room. She was no more than fifteen, but had such -an old face and such a womanly appearance that she looked much older. -Her eyes were as black as sloes and her thin lips tightly closed. A -most unpleasant-looking creature with a waspish nature. - -"Oh, Victoria," said Conniston, as this goblin dropped a curtsey, "I -want you to bring up some port wine.--Mrs. Moon will give it to you--and -some glasses also." - -"Yes, m'lord!" - -"Bring a plate of biscuits too." - -"Yes, m'lord!" - -"And, Victoria," said the young man, as she retreated, "there is no need -for you to mention that I have visitors at the castle." - -"No, m'lord," said Victoria, and, with a glance full of suspicion at -Bernard's back, she withdrew as noiselessly as she entered, and with a -final curtsey, such as might have been made by a wooden doll. Indeed, -Victoria--a most inappropriate name--might well have been cut out of -wood, so stiff and angular and hard did she look. Conniston did not -wonder that placid Mrs. Moon could not control this embryo virago. A -combat between them would be like that between an elephant and a -mosquito, with the betting on the insect. - -"That's a mistake, Dick," said Bernard, when the door closed. - -"What is?" asked Conniston, staring. - -"Telling that girl to hold her tongue. She has no reason to suspect me, -and quite as likely as not thought me merely your guest. Now she will -fancy all sorts of things." - -"I hope not," said Conniston, uneasily, "but she's such a little devil -that I thought it best to give her one for herself. And if she chatters -she will lose her situation. I am so afraid lest she should be in -communication with Jerry." - -"Jerry?" - -"Judas. The grandson of Mrs. Moon who robbed Taberley. He and Victoria -were as thick as thieves, and are about equal in wickedness. If the girl -suspected anything she might ask Judas to help her to learn more of the -truth than we want known. Both would sell their nearest and dearest for -a pound. But don't bother, Bernard," said the easy-going Dick, again -crossing to the sofa, "everything is right." - -"I hope so, I hope so," muttered Gore. "If I am arrested I cannot make -any defence." - -"We'll talk of that later. Here comes Mrs. Moon with the wine, and so -speedily that I suspect she must have out a bottle for her private -drinking. I say, Mrs. Moon," said Conniston, as the giantess entered -with a silver tray and the wine, "don't let Victoria leave the castle on -any account." - -"I should think not," said Mrs. Moon, setting down the tray. "She works -little enough as it is without trapesing about on holidays. I'd keep her -under lock and key on bread and water if I had my way, and if she wasn't -too strong for me, the besom that she is!--begging your dear lordship's -pardon. Anything else, my lord?" - -"No. You can go." - -"And glad I am to go," said Mrs. Moon, withdrawing with a ponderous -step, "being engaged in playing kings." - -"Kings," said Conniston, when she vanished. - -Bernard, in spite of his sadness, laughed and explained. "It's a game of -patience," he said. "I asked Mrs. Moon for a pack of cards to pass the -time, and was playing the game myself. She was curious; so, to keep her -in a good temper, I taught it to her. Ever since she has been playing it -unsuccessfully." - -"Oh!" Conniston was not interested in his housekeeper's games. He opened -the bottle of port and carefully poured out a full glass, which he -passed to Bernard. "Drink that up, you sinner." - -Gore sipped a little wine but finally drank the whole glass. Conniston -made him take another in spite of his protestations, and then the color -came back to his sunken cheeks. The poor fellow was thin with anxiety -and want of sleep. When Conniston saw he was better he made him light a -pipe and then sat down to hear an account of his escape. Bernard was -grateful for these attentions and began to look less cowed. - -"You're a good friend, Dick," he said, smoking luxuriously. "This is the -first moment of peace I have known since that awful moment." - -"How did you escape?" asked Conniston, lighting a cigarette. - -"I threw myself into the river and swam across." - -"In the fog?" - -"Yes. I was guided by the piers of the Chelsea Bridge. On the opposite -side I took off my coat and hat and left them lying on the bank, so that -it might be thought I was drowned." - -"Which is exactly what people do think," said Dick, complacently. - -"Thank Heaven for that. Well, then I went into a public-house I found -open--it was not yet midnight--and made up a story about having been -robbed and thrown into the river." - -"That was dangerous. The public-house people might have advised you to -see the police." - -"I don't think the landlord had any love for the police," said Gore, -dryly. "He looked like an old convict himself and displayed a -fellow-sympathy. I don't know if he believed my story. However, for a -sovereign he gave me a coat and hat, and asked no questions. I walked -across Waterloo Bridge in the fog and escaped observation. But for the -fog I expect my military breeches and leggings would have betrayed me -and provoked questions. But I managed to escape." - -"I didn't sleep at all. I walked the whole night, and by dawn I was out -of London. I lost myself several times in the fog and twice had a row -with a tramp or two. Then I took a train at a wayside station to -Gravesend, and crossed the river to Tilbury." - -"Didn't anyone ask questions?" - -Bernard shook his head. "The new Yeomanry uniform wasn't known in those -parts. I expect the gaiters made people think I was a farmer. I took the -train to Pitsea, and then came on here under cover of night. It was ten -o'clock by the time I got here." - -"What did you do in the meantime?" - -"I loafed about the taproom of a pub, and made out I was a horse-dealer -buying horses for the war. No one suspected me, and I managed to sustain -my part perfectly." - -"Did Mrs. Moon admit you at once?" - -"No. She was in bed. But when she came to the door she seemed -disinclined to admit me. I produced your letter, and after she read it, -which took about a quarter of an hour, she let me in. Then next morning -I wrote to you." - -"What made you think of this place, Bernard?" - -"I could think of nowhere to hide," said Gore, leaning back with a weary -sigh. "And after all," he added, with a glance round, "this is a very -good _cache_." - -Conniston nodded. "You are quite safe here. I will show you the way to -the vaults, and should there be any chance of your being discovered you -can hide there." - -"Does Victoria know about the vaults?" - -"I can't say. Probably that Judas brat has told her. He was brought up -here, and knows every nook and cranny of the castle. And now, Bernard, -we must have a good dinner, and then you can tell me whom you suspect of -committing the crime." - - - - - CHAPTER X - - A STATEMENT OF THE CASE - - -Bernard, _alias_ Mr. Grant, had made free with Conniston's clothes, as -Mrs. Moon had stated. But, being much taller than his friend, he looked -rather uncomfortable, and indeed had hidden the shortcomings of the -garments under a gorgeous dressing-gown, a relic of Dick's 'Varsity -days. But Conniston had procured through Durham several suits of Gore's -clothes which had been left behind at the Hall when he was turned away -by his grandfather. These he had brought with him, and Bernard was glad -enough to get into comfortably-fitting garments. These, and the society -of Conniston, a good dinner and the super-excellent port made him feel a -new man. - -After dinner the two friends piled the fire with great logs as it was -freezing hard without. Mrs. Moon brought up coffee hot and strong, and -when she left the room the young men produced their pipes. Then -Conniston sat on one side of the fire and Bernard on the other, and both -of them prepared to go into the case and to see exactly how matters -stood. - -"In the first place," said Dick, filling his pipe carefully, "let us -consider what actually happened. Sir Simon was alone that evening." - -"He was when I found him dead, unless you call Mrs. Gilroy anyone." - -"I call her a very important person," said Dick, dryly. "I tell you -what, Gore, you evidently don't know everything. Just tell me what you -do know." - -"I have told you," said Bernard, impatiently. "I left Durham's house at -ten o'clock; you mentioned the time yourself." - -"I did," responded Conniston, gravely, "and I mentioned also the day of -the month. It was the----" - -"The twenty-third of October. Shall I ever forget a date so ominous to -me? I left the house, and a small boy stopped me. He said that a -lady--he did not mention her name--had told him to inform me to follow -him to the Red Window." - -"Your cousin Lucy knew of that?" - -"Yes. And I thought the lady in question was Lucy, but the boy did not -mention any name. He simply said that he had been spoken to by the lady -down Kensington way. Now I knew from Durham that Lucy was living with -Sir Simon, who was in Crimea Square, Kensington, and that knowledge, -coupled with the mention of the Red Window, made me follow the boy." - -"Can you describe the lad?" - -"Not very well. I caught a glimpse of him under a lamp-post, but the fog -was so thick that I obtained only a vague impression. He seemed to be a -fair, innocent-looking boy with fair hair--the kind of pure angelic -creature depicted by painters as a chorister." - -"By Jove!" Conniston dashed down his pipe excitedly. "You describe Judas -to the life. The plot thickens." - -"The plot----" - -"The plot which was to involve you in the crime, and, by Jove! those who -contrived it must have hired Judas to be your guide." - -"Are you sure that this is the lad--Mrs. Moon's grandson?" - -"As sure as I can be from your word-painting. Jerry--Judas -suits him much better--is just what you say: an innocent, -butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth sort of brat who looks like an angel and -acts like a denizen of the infernal regions. And now I remember," went -on Dick, "the little brute spoke to me after you left me when we talked -in the Park. He was then bare-footed and selling matches." - -"This boy must be the same," said Bernard, thoughtfully. "He also had -bare feet and carried boxes of matches in his hand." - -"It's Judas sure enough!" muttered Conniston, pulling his mustache and -staring gloomily into the fire. "I wonder what he was doing in that -galley? You followed him?" - -"Yes, because he mentioned the Red Window. But for that I should have -suspected something wrong. I don't care about following strange urchins. -But only Lucy knew about the Red Window." - -"She might have told Beryl." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Never mind. Go on with your tale." - -"Well, I followed the boy. He kept a little ahead of me, and several -times when I got lost in the fog he reappeared." - -"Judas is as clever as his father, the Accuser of the Brethren. How long -were you getting to Crimea Square?" - -"Allowing for stoppages, three-quarters of an hour. All the trouble took -place about a quarter to eleven." - -"Did you see the Red Window?" - -"I saw a red glare in a window on the first floor. I don't suppose the -glass was red, but think some red material must have been placed over a -lamp and that placed close to the window." - -"Might have been a blind," mused Dick, "and yet when Beryl looked and -his friend Mrs. Webber they saw no Red Window. Are you sure?" - -"I am certain," responded Gore, emphatically. "When I saw the Red Window -I was convinced that Lucy had sent for me, and, thinking that she had -persuaded my grandfather to relent, I would have entered the house for a -personal interview but that Mrs. Gilroy came out." - -"Could you be seen from the house?" - -"I don't think so, the fog was very thick remember." - -"Was any signal given?" - -Bernard looked hard at his friend. "You think it was a trap?" - -"I am certain. Was there any signal?" - -"A peculiar kind of whistle. Something like this!" - -Gore whistled in a kind of ascending scale shrilly and in a particularly -high key. The effect on Conniston was strange. He jumped up from his -seat and walked hurriedly to and fro. - -"Judas," he said. "I remember when I was down here that the little scamp -had a kind of whistle like that--something like it. Listen!" Conniston -whistled also, and Bernard nodded. - -"That's it," he declared; "the whistle was given twice." - -"Then the boy was Judas. He used to signal to Victoria in that way when -the pair were up to their pranks. Wait!" Conniston opened the door and -whistled loudly in the same way. Twice he did this. Shortly after the -second time the pattering of steps was heard and Victoria came running -up the stairs with a lighted candle in her hand. She looked white and -scared. - -"Did you expect to see Jerry?" asked her master, blandly. - -The girl stared and turned even whiter than she was. "I thought it was -Jerry, sir," she murmured, leaning against the balustrade. "He used to -whistle like that when he came home!" - -"I learned it from Jerry," said Conniston, mendaciously, "and I tried to -see if it would bring you. Go downstairs, girl. There's nothing wrong." - -Victoria stared at Conniston with a suspicious look in her hard eyes, -and then with a toss of her head ran down the stairs. Dick returned to -the room and shut the door. "What do you think now?" - -"It was Judas sure enough," said Bernard. - -"Of course. And the signal was given to someone in the house to intimate -that you were outside. Who came out?" - -"Mrs. Gilroy?" - -"Ah! Then she must have been waiting for the signal. By the way, you -always seemed mixed over Mrs. Gilroy. When we first met you said that -she didn't like you. Then you said she was your friend. Now which do you -think she is?" - -"I can hardly say. She always pretended to be my friend. I was never -sure of her." - -"Then you can be sure of her now. She is your bitter enemy." - -"I am afraid so," sighed Gore, remembering the accusation. - -"Well," said Dick, resuming his seat, "what next?" - -"Mrs. Gilroy came out screeching 'Murder!' She dragged me upstairs and -into the sitting-room----" - -"Did you notice if there was a red lamp in the window?" - -"No. I was too horrified by the sight of my dead grandfather. I loosened -the handkerchief round the throat----" - -"That was a bandana, Sir Simon's own, and was produced at the inquest. -What about the one over the mouth?" - -"The one steeped in chloroform? I don't know. I had it in my hand when -Mrs. Gilroy accused me. Then I lost my head. I must have dropped it." - -Conniston looked disappointed. "That's a pity," said he. "I fancied you -might have unconsciously taken it with you. You see, it was a white -handkerchief and Sir Simon never used one of that color. If there -happened to be a name on the corner----" - -"It would be that of the assassin. Is that what you mean?" - -"Yes, that is what I mean. The assassin must have used his own -handkerchief." - -"Why do you think that?" - -Dick made an impatient gesture. "Why, it's the most natural thing he -would do," was his reply. "He enters the room, and talks with Sir Simon. -In his pocket he has the handkerchief steeped in chloroform and uses it -unexpectedly. It's as clear as day." - -"Why do you think the assassin is a man?" - -"I'll tell you that later. Go on." - -"There's nothing more to say. Mrs. Gilroy said that I was the assassin -and tried to hold me. The policeman came and arrested me. Seeing what a -fix I was in I bolted." - -"You should have stood your ground," insisted Dick. - -Bernard rose and in his turn paced the room. "Man alive, how could I do -that?" he said irritably. "The position was dangerous enough to appal -the bravest man. Mrs. Gilroy accused me, saying that I had been in the -kitchen and had left there about six; that I had returned after ten and -killed my grandfather. Also the housemaid Jane recognized me as the -soldier who had been courting her. Not only that, but she addressed me -as Bernard. Can't you see how strong the circumstantial evidence was and -is? I did not get to Durham's before seven, and I was by myself before -that. I can't prove an _alibi_ then, and I left at ten, after which hour -Mrs. Gilroy said I had come into the house. In three-quarters of an hour -there was ample time for me to kill my grandfather. It is barely a -quarter of an hour's walk from Durham's house on Camden Hill to Crimea -Square. I could not prove an _alibi_, nor could you or Durham have -helped me. I was at Durham's in the evening, but where was I before six -and after ten? Dick, had I stayed I should have been hanged. These -thoughts flashed through my mind and I made a dash for liberty, so that -I might have time to think out my position. How I gained this refuge you -know. And here I have been thinking ever since how to extricate myself -from the dilemma and prove my innocence. I can't see how to do it, Dick. -I can't see how to act." - -"Steady, old boy. Come and sit down and we'll thresh out the matter." - -He led Bernard back to the chair, into which the poor fellow threw -himself with a weary sigh. Conniston could not but acknowledge that the -case against his friend was very strong. As he could not prove an -_alibi_, the evidence of Mrs. Gilroy, of the cook, and page, and -housemaid, would probably hang him. And also a sufficient motive for the -crime might be found--by the jury--in the fact that Bernard had -quarrelled with his grandfather and had been disinherited. Then, to -perplex affairs still more, Judas had disappeared, and the Red Window, -on the evidence of Beryl and Mrs. Webber, was non-existent. Certainly -the lady declared she saw it, but afterwards she thought she had been -mistaken. In the interval someone must have removed the red light. But -that was a detail which could be argued later. In the meantime it was -necessary to fix, if possible, the identity of the soldier who had -haunted the kitchen and who apparently so strongly resembled Bernard as -to be mistaken for him by Jane. - -"It's a plot," said Conniston, at length, while Bernard gazed -despairingly into the burning logs. "This fellow who resembled you and -who took your name is the assassin." - -"How do you make that out?" - -"Why! He was in the kitchen before six and was sent for by your -grandfather. He at once left. Then he came back after ten and was -admitted by Mrs. Gilroy, who might have made a mistake." - -"She could not mistake another man for me." - -"I don't know. This fellow evidently was your double, or at least was -made up to resemble you. But that would not be easy," added Conniston, -staring at his friend, "for you have no beard or mustache, and it is -difficult to make up like another chap without such aids. At least I -should think so. And remember the lamp in the hall did not give a very -good light--so Durham told me. The housemaid saw you only in that light, -and therefore might have mistaken you for the fellow who courted her. -Mrs. Gilroy----" - -"She saw me in the full glare of the light in the sitting-room. She -recognized me." - -"Yes. But according to her evidence she only admitted your double just -after ten and introduced him into the sitting-room. She did not see him -save under the hall lamp." - -"That is true. But my grandfather would soon detect the imposition." - -"Quite right," rejoined Dick, smoothly, "he did, and then the assassin -murdered him after stifling him with the chloroform." - -"But you forget my grandfather was a passionate man. He might and -probably would have made a scene. Mrs. Gilroy below would have heard the -row and would have come up." - -"She may be lying when she declares she heard nothing," admitted Dick. -"On the other hand, the assassin may have crossed directly over to your -grandfather and have stifled his cries by placing the handkerchief at -once over his mouth. Then he could strangle him at his leisure and clear -out, as he did." - -"And then Mrs. Gilroy runs up, finds the dead, and rushes out to accuse -me. I must have been brought in the nick of time," said Bernard, -ironically. "No, Dick, there's more in it than that. Mrs. Gilroy is in -the plot whomsoever contrived it." - -"Why, Beryl contrived it. He wanted the money." - -"Was he in the house at the time?" - -"No. He didn't commit the crime himself, if that is what you mean. He -with Miss Randolph was at the Curtain Theatre, which is near Crimea -Square. He drove up in his friend's Mrs. Webber's carriage just when the -row was on." - -"Yes." Bernard passed his hand across his forehead. "I should have -remembered that. I was in the hall at the time with the hand of the -policeman on my shoulder. But I have grown so confused, Dick, that it's -all like a dream." - -"A nightmare rather. But why do you think Mrs. Gilroy is----" - -"Is in the plot. Because, before she accused me, she said to herself, -but loud enough for me to hear, 'It's the only way!'" - -"Ha, ho!" said Conniston, excited, "you can swear to that." - -"Of course I can. But I can't swear in the dock, and that is the only -place I'm likely to occupy should I be caught." - -"Is Mrs. Gilroy a friend of Beryl's?" - -"I can't say that she was ever anyone's friend. She even seemed to hate -my grandfather, although he was so good to her. She and Lucy were always -quarrelling, and though she behaved civilly to me, I was--as I said -before--never sure of her." - -"You can certainly be sure of her now. But I can't help thinking Beryl -had something to do with this plot. He had a lot at stake. I have heard -tales about his gambling that would open your eyes. Durham made it his -business to find out when he heard that Sir Simon intended to disinherit -you in favor of Beryl." - -"Durham has always been my friend," said Bernard, wearily. "But as Beryl -was out of the house he can't have anything to do with the crime." - -"I'm not so certain of that. He might have set things in train, and then -have arranged the theatre business so as to provide himself with an -_alibi_." - -"You think he hired someone to represent me?" - -"I do, though, as I say, it would be hard for anyone to disguise himself -like you. You haven't a double, have you?" - -"Not that I ever heard of," said Gore, unable to restrain a smile; "but -they say everyone has a double." - -"Well, we must hunt out yours. If we find the soldier who resembled you, -and who called himself by your name, we will be able to prove that he -committed the crime." - -"But how can you go to work?" - -"I hardly know, Bernard. I must ask Durham. Meantime you can stay here. -And there's Judas. I'll make it my business to hunt him out. I daresay -he was employed by Beryl also." - -"How you harp on Beryl." - -"Because I am sure he has everything to do with the matter. It was a -carefully-arranged trap, and you have fallen into it. What Mrs. Gilroy -expects to gain I can't think. However, Beryl has found himself mistaken -over the money. The new will--so Durham told me to tell you--was burnt -by the old man, and so the old one, giving you all, stands. Both Mrs. -Gilroy and Mr. Beryl are left out in the cold. And that is all the -better for your safety." - -"Why?" asked Bernard, looking puzzled. - -"Because the person they hired to do the business--your double--will -expect to be paid a large sum. If not, he will round on them." - -"You forget. If he confesses he puts a rope round his own throat -according to your theory." - -"True enough. But there's Judas. He'll have his pound of flesh, or make -an unholy row." - -"Dick," said Bernard, seriously, "it's impossible that a lad of thirteen -can be such a villain as you make him out to be." - -"I tell you that lad is a born criminal, and if he goes on as he is -doing he'll come to the gallows, where, according to his grandmother, -his forefathers suffered before him. Judas is as cunning as a fox, and -very strong as to his will. Also, he is greedy of money----" - -"You describe a man of experience." - -"I don't know where Judas got his experience," said Conniston, coolly, -"but as Mrs. Gamp said of Bailly, junior, 'All the wickedness of the -world is print to him.'" - -"I can't believe it of such a lad." - -"You'll have an opportunity of testing it some day," retorted the young -lord. "I only hope Victoria doesn't correspond with Judas. If she does, -she'll tell him about a stranger at Cove Castle, and Judas, having seen -you with me in the Park, will be quite sharp enough to put two and two -together. Then there will be trouble." - -"But why should he connect me with the crime unless----" - -"Unless he knows all. He does. You are a marked man, Bernard. However, -it's getting late. We'll talk of this to-morrow. I must go and see -Durham, and bring him down ostensibly for shooting." - -"I wish you would bring Alice over," said Bernard. "My heart aches for a -sight of her sweet face." - -"And dearly her face has cost you," said Conniston. "However, I'll ask -my dear aunt to come over, and bring Alice. As Miss Berengaria is a -relative, it will be thought nothing out of the way. We'll save you yet, -Bernard; only I wish we had that one piece of evidence--the handkerchief -you lost. When that is found we shall know who is guilty." - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - MRS. GILROY'S PAST - - -After making Lucy the mistress of the Hall until the return of its legal -master, Mark Durham returned to town. Having regard to the fact that -Beryl had taken up his quarters at the Conniston Arms--for what purpose -the lawyer could not determine--he thought it wiser not to arouse the -crafty young man's suspicions by a visit to Cove Castle. Certainly this -was a somewhat over-strained sense of caution, since, being Conniston's -lawyer, he could easily have gone there without it being thought odd. -But Durham knew that Julius, driven to desperation by the loss of the -fortune, would stop at nothing to accomplish his wish to obtain it. Did -he learn that Bernard was still alive he would undoubtedly blackmail -him. And in the present position of the case, when the truth could not -be arrived at, Bernard, for his own safety, would be obliged to make -terms. And such terms as Beryl would demand could not be granted. - -Durham therefore returned to his business, and at once set to work. So -far he had done all that he could to settle the government of the -property during Gore's absence, and it now remained to take such steps -as would unravel the intricacy of what appeared to be a plot to oust him -from his rights. That Julius was at the bottom of the whole affair -Durham was certain, and that Julius had his eye on him he conjectured. -Therefore it behooved him to move cautiously lest Beryl should -counterplot him. And as in this game, which dealt with the issues of -life and death, Durham's cards were all on the table and Beryl's were -concealed, the chances of victory lay with the latter. And if Julius -won, he would certainly have no mercy. Conniston had written a letter -directed to the London office stating in full the conversation which had -taken place between him and Sir Bernard. Durham was therefore in full -possession of all facts not known to Julius, and after turning over -these in his mind he concluded that it would be best to start with an -examination of Jane Riordan, the delinquent housemaid. She could not -possibly be in the plot, as he had seen how simple a woman she was when -at the inquest. Therefore she certainly, for some strange reason, -believed Bernard to be the young soldier who had courted her. She had -sworn to his photograph, and had addressed him in the hall of the Crimea -Square house by his name. Apparently--here Durham thought with -Conniston--some person had been impersonating Bernard, so the lawyer -sent a message to Miss Riordan asking her to call. Then he intended to -question her as to the personality and speech of the double. - -The housemaid arrived dressed in her best and looking rather downcast. -She was evidently nervous, and could not think what the lawyer wanted -with her. Like all her class she had a wholesome horror of legal -procedure, and always kept out of the clutches of the law. But it -appeared that for her share in receiving a follower she had been -dismissed by her master, Mr. Jefferies. Being without a situation she -grasped at the chance afforded of seeing Durham, and hoped by working on -his sympathies to secure a new one. But for this want she would probably -have refused the invitation. As it was she duly appeared, and was -accommodated with a seat beside Durham's desk. He then proceeded to -question her, thinking a plain, straightforward examination would best -get at the truth. - -"Now then," said Durham, wheeling round his chair so that he could look -her in the face. "You know I am the solicitor of Sir Bernard Gore, who -is accused of the murder of his grandfather. In spite of the evidence -given, I do not believe he is guilty." - -"I don't think so either, sir," sobbed Jane, who had got out her -handkerchief at the mention of the name. - -"You never knew him." - -"Yes, I did. He courted me for nearly a month. And a sweet young man he -was, the very best I ever walked out with." - -Durham eyed her keenly. Apparently she was speaking as she believed, and -he considered that the double must resemble Bernard in a marvellous -degree to make the housemaid thus sure of his identity with the accused -young baronet. "You misunderstand me," he said mildly. "However, I'll -come to the point presently. You must answer me as though you were in a -witness-box." - -"Yes, sir," said Miss Riordan, timidly. "But, please, before I speak, -could you help me to a new situation? Mr. Jefferies dismissed me because -I walked out with Bernard and received him in the kitchen." - -"Hum," said Durham, reflectively. He did not know very well what to say -at the outset as he was by no means prepared to promise to assist her -off-hand. But on consideration he saw the necessity of keeping so -valuable a witness under his own eye and away from Beryl, always -supposing Beryl to be mixed up in the matter. He therefore made up his -mind swiftly, and in his answer gained Jane's goodwill. "Yes, I can help -you," he said; "my housekeeper wants a housemaid. I will give you my -address and a letter to her. Go to Camden Hill and if your character is -satisfactory she will engage you." - -"Oh, thank you, sir," said Jane, effusively. "I'm sure my character is -all that can be desired, save in this last trouble. But Bernard was such -an agreeable----" - -"There! there!" interrupted Durham, cutting her short, "we won't talk of -that just now. This last episode of your career will not stand in the -way of my housekeeper engaging you. I'll make that clear to her in my -letter. Come now, will you answer my questions?" - -"Yes, sir. Any you like to ask," said Jane, delighted at the granting of -her petition, and privately thinking Durham a sweet gentleman. - -"Good!" said the lawyer in an official manner. "What is your name?" - -"Jane Riordan." - -Durham noted this and her other answers down. - -"You were how long at Mr. Jefferies?" - -"Six months, sir." - -"When did you first see this soldier?" - -"Bernard, sir. In the Park, about a month before Sir Simon came." - -"How did he become acquainted with you?" - -Jane giggled and looked down. "Well, sir," she said, blushing, "I am not -bad-looking and Bernard--" - -"He called himself Bernard?" - -"Yes, sir. He said he was a corporal in the Imperial Yeomanry. He had -seen me in Crimea Square." - -"In this house?" - -"No, sir. Leaving the house. He said he had come several times, being -taken with my looks, and that he always wanted to know me. As he was so -handsome, sir, and spoke so civil, we walked out. He treated me to tea -in the Park, and then I asked him to meet cook. He accepted at once, -sir, and most willingly." - -"I daresay," muttered Durham, seeing in this meeting how the scamp had -forced his company on the girl so as to enter the house likely to be -occupied by Sir Simon. "And he came?" - -"Many times, sir--oh! many times, and made himself so agreeable that -cook was quite jealous." - -"Who did he say he was?" - -"Well, sir, he did nothing but hint, saying he was a gentleman of high -rank, as could be seen from his manners, and that he had enlisted -because of a quarrel he had with his grandfather. But I never knew he -was Sir Simon's grandson until I lost him," sobbed Jane. "Oh, dear me, -and to think I would have been Lady Gore, with diamonds and fine -clothes, had he lived." - -"Hum!" said Durham, digging the point of his pencil into the blotting -paper, "so he practically told you the story of Sir Bernard." - -"Yes, sir, as I afterwards learned it. And wasn't that natural, sir, -seeing he was Sir Bernard?" - -"Are you sure he was?" - -Jane stared. "Why, sir, he was always frightened when Mrs. Gilroy came -down to the kitchen and said she was his enemy, and that if she saw him -he could never marry me. I didn't know what he meant at that time, but I -see now. She would have said who he was. I used to hide him in -cupboards, and once in the coal cellar. Cook and William never told, -being sympathetic like!" - -"Did he speak in educated manner?" - -"Like the gentleman he was, sir, having been educated at Eton." - -"When you saw him in the grasp of the policeman did you recognize him? -Was he the same man who courted you?" - -Jane stared again and looked puzzled. "There isn't two, sir, that I know -of," she said; "and now," with a fresh burst of tears, "there isn't one, -seeing he is drowned. Oh dear, dear me. Yes, sir, I knew him at once, -although the light was bad. And when I would have seen him plainer, Mrs. -Gilroy would not let him be brought under the lamp." - -"Oh, indeed," said Durham, making a note of this. "Look here," and he -held out a large portrait of Bernard, different to that shown at the -inquest. "You recognize this, I suppose?" - -"That's my Bernard, sir." - -"Is it a good likeness?" - -Jane examined the photograph closely. "Not what I'd call a very good -one, sir, neither was the other. There's a look wanting." - -"What sort of a look?" - -"Well, sir, you might call it a roguish look, of a gentleman who had -seen life and had been gay. This portrait is sad and horrid looking. I -should have been afraid to be courted by Bernard if he had looked like -this. But he was always bright and full of larks. Then he has not got a -spot on his chin as he has here. I suppose he cut himself shaving when -he had this done." - -Durham started. Here was a means of identification. Bernard had a rather -large mole on the left of his chin. "Didn't the man who walked out with -you have this spot?" he said, purposely adopting the word she had used. - -"No, sir. He had a chin like a new-born infant, smooth and white." - -"Did he ever write you a letter?" - -Jane blushed again. "Just a short note making an appointment, sir," she -said, feeling in her breast, "it being early for love letters, and me -being a most respectable young lady. I carry it next my heart." - -Durham took the note she handed him without hesitation, and glanced -through it. The writing was not unlike that of Bernard's, yet he saw -very plainly that it lacked several characteristics which distinguished -that of Gore. The note simply asked Jane to meet the writer on Sunday at -the Marble Arch, and was signed "Bernard." - -"I'll give you a sovereign for this," said Durham, quietly. - -"Thank you, sir," said Jane, accepting without a moment's hesitation. -"Of course, Bernard's dead now, so there's no use keeping his letters, -but if he'd been alive I'd have kept them on the chance of his not -making me Lady Gore!" - -"Did he wear any rings?" asked Durham, paying the money and putting the -letter away. - -"Three, sir. Two gold and one silver." - -This was another point of difference. Bernard hated rings and never by -any chance wore any, not even a signet ring. But by this time Jane's -information was exhausted, and Durham concluded her examination for the -moment. He would be able to resume it later when necessary, and -congratulated himself on the fact that he had secured Jane as his -housemaid. When brought face to face with the real Bernard she would be -able to see the difference between him and his double. And then she -might also be able to recognize the double should he be found. Just as -he was dismissing Jane with a letter to his housekeeper a clerk brought -in a name written on a piece of paper. "Mrs. Gilroy," said Durham to -himself, wondering greatly. "Tell her to come in," he said aloud, and -ushered Jane out quickly by another door. It would never have done to -have let Mrs. Gilroy meet her, seeing that the Hall housekeeper was -hostile to Bernard. So Jane departed rejoicing, and Durham went back to -his desk well satisfied. - -"Bernard never wrote this note, as it is different in many ways to his -writing," he murmured. "Bernard never wears rings, and he has a mole on -his chin which this double apparently lacks. Without doubt the -impersonation has been very clever. But I wonder how I am to find the -double." - -Before he could reply to this perplexing question, the clerk showed in -Mrs. Gilroy, as demure and sly-looking as ever. She was richly dressed -in black silk, much better dressed in fact than she had ever been during -the life of her master. Also Durham noted that there was an aggressive -air about her which he had not noticed before. Perhaps this was due to -her receipt of an annuity. She was not a lady, and yet she could not be -called common. Durham had never examined her carefully before, but now -that she was dangerous to Gore's interest he looked at her carefully. A -strange woman and a dangerous was his verdict. He proceeded to feel his -way cautiously, wondering what she had come about. - -"It's to see me about your annuity?" he said, tentatively. - -"Yes," replied Mrs. Gilroy, coldly, and took the seat which had been -vacated by Jane. "My beggarly annuity?" - -The lawyer, who had taken up his position before the fire with his hands -under the tails of his frock coat, turned to look at her. The bitterness -of the tone startled him. "What do you mean?" - -"Mean!" echoed Mrs. Gilroy, with a vindictive glitter in her pale eyes. -"That Sir Simon promised me five hundred a year for life." - -"Oh, you must be mistaken," said Durham, quickly. "He never said you -were to have more than one hundred." - -"He might not to you, but he did to me," said the housekeeper, doggedly. -"I have a right to five hundred." - -"I think not," said the lawyer, calmly. "And let me tell you, Mrs. -Gilroy, that Sir Simon did not place your name at all in the second -will. Had it been executed, you would not have had even the one -hundred you despise. Therefore, you may congratulate yourself"--he -watched her face while speaking--"that Sir Simon changed his mind about -disinheriting his grandson." - -The woman's eyes glittered still more maliciously and a color rose in -her bloodless cheeks. "Oh!" she said, with icy disdain, "so Sir Simon -would have deprived me of my rights, would he? It's lucky he's dead, or -he'd find himself on the wrong side of the hedge with me." - -"Ah!" Durham resumed his seat and waited to hear what would come -forth. And something would come out not easily attainable at other -times, for Mrs. Gilroy was apparently losing her temper. This was most -extraordinary for her, as she was usually cautious. But since the death -of her master, who had kept her in check, she seemed to be a much more -reckless woman. The lawyer had always wondered what bond held Sir Simon -and the housekeeper together, and now there seemed some likelihood that -he would learn, if he held his tongue and allowed full play to that of -Mrs. Gilroy. - -"I knew how it would be," she muttered. "I guessed he would play me -false. He never was worth a kekaubi." - -"You are a gipsy," said Durham, looking up. - -"What makes you say that?" - -"Kekaubi is Romany for kettle. You wouldn't use it unless--" - -"Who I am is nothing to you," interrupted Mrs. Gilroy, sharply. - -"Yet you don't resemble the Romany!" said Durham, looking at her drab -appearance. "Your eyes are pale and your hair--" - -"Let my appearance be, Mr. Durham. I am here for justice, not to hear my -looks discussed. Sir Simon left me one hundred a year. I want you as the -executor of the estate to make it the five hundred he promised me." - -"I don't know that he promised you that sum," said the solicitor, "and -even if he did I cannot give it to you. The money now belongs to Sir -Bernard Gore." - -"He is supposed to be dead." - -"You put it rightly," replied the man. "He is supposed to be dead, but -until his dead body is found I will administer the estate on his behalf. -But I have no power to help you." - -Mrs. Gilroy seemed struck by this view of the case. "Suppose Sir Bernard -isn't dead?" she asked. - -Durham felt a qualm and suppressed a start with difficulty. Had this -dangerous woman discovered the fugitive at Cove Castle. "Do you know if -he is alive?" asked Durham, quietly looking at her. - -"Perhaps," said Mrs. Gilroy, who seemed to be thinking. Then she rose. -"I don't know that I need bother you further," she said. - -"Will you tell me why you demand this money?" - -"Because Sir Simon promised it to me." - -"On what grounds." - -"On very good grounds." - -"Will you tell me what they are?" - -"Will you give me the five hundred a year if I do?" she countered. - -"That is out of my power. When Sir Bernard appears I will speak to him -on the subject if your claim is a good one." - -"My claim is an excellent one," she burst out, raising herself to her -full height. "It is the claim of a wronged woman!" She paused. "I want -to ask you about the will," she said. "Is it worded that the money is -left 'to my grandson.'" - -"To my grandson Bernard Gore." - -"The name is mentioned." - -"It is. The money is clearly left to Sir Bernard." - -"Sir Bernard," she sneered. "Why give him a title to which he has no -claim? The money may be his, else I would not tell you what I now do -tell you. My son is the baronet--my son Michael." - -Durham stared at her, quite taken aback. "What on earth are you talking -about, Mrs. Gilroy?" he demanded. - -"Mrs. Gilroy," she echoed with scorn. "I shall no longer use a false -name. I am Mrs. Walter Gore." - -"Impossible. Walter Gore was married to Bianca Tolomeo!" - -"He was married to me first," said Mrs. Gilroy, rapidly. "Yes, you may -stare, but I am the lawful wife of Walter Gore and my son Michael is the -heir. He is the image of his father. There's no trickery about the -matter." - -"The image of his father," cried Durham, a sudden light breaking in upon -him. "And Walter Gore was tall, slim, the image of his son Bernard. Mrs. -Gore, or Mrs. Gilroy, or whatever you call yourself, was it your son who -murdered his grandfather?" - -The woman became livid. "No, I swear he didn't. He is in America." - -"He is in England, and he masqueraded as Bernard when courting Jane the -housemaid," said Durham, excitedly. "You say yourself he resembled -Walter Gore. Bernard is exactly like his father, so Michael must -resemble him sufficiently to pass as him." - -"It is absolutely false!" cried Mrs. Gilroy, seeing she had fallen into -the trap of her own words. "My son is in America. You shall not prove -him guilty. I opened the door to Bernard." - -"To Michael. You perhaps mistook him for Bernard." - -"A mother can't mistake her own son. But Michael is the heir. I shall -write to America and bring him home. I can prove my marriage with Walter -Gore." - -"Do so by all means," said Durham, recovering his wits. "I am acting for -Sir Bernard, and he shall not lose the title if I can help it. I see you -are playing a deep game, Mrs. Gilroy, but you have let out too much. I -shall now search for Michael, your son, and see if he was not in London -on the night of the twenty-third of October." - -Mrs. Gilroy, pale and looking like a tigress at bay, drew back to the -door without a word. Before Durham knew of her intention she opened it -and slipped away. He did not seek to detain her. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - THE NEW PAGE - - -Things went very smoothly at Gore Hall after Durham had established Lucy -as its mistress during the absence of Bernard. The girl herself firmly -believed that her cousin was dead and assumed deep mourning. She had -been fond of Bernard in a sisterly way, and felt his loss deeply. It was -her outspoken affection that provoked a quarrel between her and Julius, -and which led to the breaking of their engagement. Lucy had a high -temper, which had been kept in subjection during the life of Sir Simon. -But now that she tasted the sweets of power she was not disposed to -allow Julius to treat her as he chose. - -Mrs. Gilroy came back from her visit to the lawyer in rather a dejected -frame of mind. She saw that she had gone too far and had given Durham an -inkling as to the possibility of Michael having masqueraded as Bernard. -The housekeeper had thought her position unassailable, knowing that she -had married Walter Gore; and although there was a flaw in the -circumstances upon which she built her claim, yet she trusted to her own -cleverness to conceal this from the too-clever lawyer. But, apart from -this, the fact that he suspected someone of passing himself off as -Bernard startled her, and opened an abyss at her feet. On leaving the -office she judged it best to lower her crest for the moment and to wait -patiently to see what would transpire. Mrs. Gilroy was a well-educated -woman and very astute, therefore she hoped to gain her ends by craft if -not by force. So far she had failed, but she did not intend to abandon -her claim for one failure. - -As it was, she came back to the Hall and behaved herself much better -than she had ever done before. She was respectful to Lucy, and did not -display her impatience of commands that she had hitherto done. No one -could have been meeker, and although Miss Randolph did not like or trust -the woman, she had no fault to find with her in any way. - -Lucy suffered severely from the shock of Sir Simon's tragic death, and -from the supposed death of Sir Bernard. In fact, the matter so preyed on -her nerves that she became prostrate, and Dr. Payne had to be called in. -He was a handsome and popular young doctor who had practiced in -Hurseton. As this was the first time he had been called to the Hall, he -was naturally very pleased, and was very attentive. - -"A complete rest is what you need," he said to Miss Randolph. "I think -you should keep to your bed as much as possible, and I will give you a -tonic. Naturally you suffer from the terrible circumstances of Sir -Simon's death." He thought a moment and then continued, "A cheerful -companion would do you good. Shall I ask Miss Malleson to come over." - -"Is she cheerful?" asked Lucy languidly. "I fear not, doctor. She was -engaged to my cousin, and his death has made her sad." - -"Probably, but she bears up wonderfully. But that she is in mourning one -would hardly guess she had sustained such a loss. Was she very much -attached to Mr. Gore?" - -"Yes. I never saw a more attached couple. Did you ever meet him?" - -"Once at Miss Plantagenet's. You know I am great friends with the old -lady. I often visit her, not professionally, for she is as healthy as a -trout in a pond." - -"Is Alice--Miss Malleson also well?" - -"In very good health, and appears resigned to her loss." - -"I should have thought she would have felt it more," said Lucy, -perplexed. "Alice has such a tender heart." - -Dr. Payne was doubtful. So far as he saw, Miss Malleson was remarkably -cheerful under her sorrow. "She is philosophic, Miss Randolph, and that -is wise. I think, however, if you would have her over to see you, it -would do both her and yourself good." - -"I shall write a note to her to-day," said Lucy. "I am very fond of her, -and we get on very well together. Poor Alice. I wish Bernard had lived, -so that he could have married her." - -"From what I read in the papers it is just as well Mr. Gore did not -live," said Payne, rising to take his leave. "If he was guilty--" - -"Ah!" said Lucy, raising herself with animation from the sofa upon which -she was lying. "If he was guilty. There it is, doctor. I do not believe -he was. Bernard had a high temper, but he could not always control it, -and was a kind-hearted boy. He is innocent I am sure." - -"How are you sure, my dear Lucy?" asked a third voice, and she looked up -to see Julius standing in the doorway. He came forward. "Forgive me if I -heard a few words of your conversation. But I have just come in. Dr. -Payne, I hope I see you well." - -"Quite well," said the doctor, who did not like Beryl, thinking him, in -schoolboy phrase, "a sneak." "I am just going, Mr. Beryl." - -"Are you ill, Lucy?" asked Beryl, with affection. - -"I have an attack of nerves," she replied pettishly. "Poor Bernard's -death has shaken me." - -"It is just as well he did die, though." - -"I have been saying that," said Payne; "but I must take my leave. I will -come and see you again, Miss Randolph, and remember what I told you. -Rest and cheerful company--Miss Malleson's for choice." - -He departed smiling, and they heard him gallop off. When the sound of -the horse's hoofs died away, Julius, who was looking out of the window, -turned abruptly to Lucy. "Why do you think Bernard is innocent?" he -asked. - -"Because, if he is guilty, his action gives the lie to his whole life, -Julius," she replied, raising herself on her elbow. "I can't believe he -killed my uncle." - -"Sir Simon is not your uncle," said Beryl, jealously. "You are only a -distant relative." - -"Perhaps my marriage with you may make me a nearer one." - -"If we ever do marry," said Julius, gloomily. - -"So far as I am concerned I should like to break the engagement, Julius. -We were never suited to one another." - -Beryl's vanity was hurt. "Why did you accept me then?" - -"What else could I do? It was Sir Simon's wish that we should marry, -and, owing to my circumstances, I had no choice in the matter. During -his life I was merely a puppet. But you do not care for me." - -"I do. I swear I do." - -"Although you swore for an hour, I should never believe you. There is -only one thing in this world you love, Julius, and that is money. You -told Sir Simon about Bernard being in love with Alice, that the poor boy -might be disinherited." - -Beryl did not deny the charge. "I believe you are in love with Bernard -yourself," he said. - -"No. Bernard and I are like brother and sister. But he is dead, so you -need not cast stones at his memory." - -"Are you sure he is dead?" asked Beryl, warming his hands. - -Lucy sat up on the sofa and pushed the loose hair back from her -forehead. "Why do you say that?" she asked sharply. - -Julius stared at the fire. "I can't understand Durham's attitude," he -said evasively. "He must know that Bernard is dead, seeing that the coat -and hat were found on the banks of the river. No man could have lived in -the cold and the fog. Yet if Durham was sure he would not hold the -estate against Bernard's coming." - -"Mr. Durham requires proof of the death," rejoined Lucy, sharply; "and -until then, he is bound to administer the estate according to the will. -As Bernard's body has not been found, there is always a chance that he -may have escaped." - -"I sincerely trust not." - -"Ah! You always hated Bernard." - -"On the contrary, I speak for his good. What's the use of his coming to -life when he must suffer for his crime?" - -"I don't believe he committed it," said Lucy, doggedly. - -"You have no grounds for saying that," said Julius, pale with rage. - -"I don't need grounds," retorted the genuine woman. "Bernard always was -as kind-hearted as you were--and are, the reverse." - -"I am not hard-hearted," snapped Beryl. "I always do good--" - -"When it is to your own benefit." - -"Not always. For instance, I am down here to get a small boy a post with -Miss Plantagenet as a page." - -"That is very good of you," said Lucy, scornfully. - -"Ah, you see I can do a kind action. This boy is a grandson of Lord -Conniston's housekeeper, Mrs. Moon." - -"At Cove Castle," said Lucy, with some color in her face. "I know." - -"Do you know Lord Conniston?" asked Julius suspiciously. - -"I have met him once. He seems to be a most delightful fellow." - -"What a delightful speech for a lady," said Beryl. "Conniston is a -scamp. I heard he enlisted in the Lancers." - -"It shows how brave he is. Every man worth calling a man should go to -the front." - -"Perhaps you would like me to go," sneered Julius. - -"You would never have the pluck," said Lucy, quickly. "All your ends in -life are gained by cunning, not by bravery." - -"Lucy, if you talk to me like that--" began Beryl, and then restrained -himself with an effort. "It is no use our quarrelling. Let me show you -that I am not so careless of others or so hard-hearted as I seem to be. -Miss Plantagenet wants a page. I found this lad in London selling -matches. He was a messenger boy at a tobacconist called Taberley, and -Lord Conniston got him turned out of the situation." - -"I don't believe that." - -"It is true. The boy told me himself. He will tell you if you like to -see him." - -"I don't want to see him. Lord Conniston is too kind a man to behave in -that way. He was fond of Bernard." - -"And that makes him perfect in your eyes," said Beryl, looking savage. -"See here, Lucy, Conniston has left the army--so you see he is not so -brave as you think." - -"He left so as to seek after Bernard," said Lucy, quickly. "Mr. Durham -told me so." - -"To seek after Bernard," said Julius, slowly, "and I believe Bernard may -be alive after all." - -"In which case you would give him up to the police." - -"No," said Julius with an emotion which did him credit, "I should never -betray him. Lucy, if you can find out from Lord Conniston or Durham that -Bernard is alive, let me know and I'll see what I can do to help him." - -"How can you help him when you believe him guilty?" - -"I might help him to escape. I don't want to see him hanged." - -"He won't be hanged if Lord Conniston and Mr. Durham can save him." - -"Ah!" Julius started to his feet. "Then he is alive." - -"I can't say. I have no reason to think he is. But I am hoping against -hope," said Lucy, rising. "I merely state what was said. Mr. Durham and -Lord Conniston both told Alice that Bernard was innocent." - -"They will find it difficult to prove that," sneered Beryl, with a white -face. "I believe the fellow is alive after all. If he is I'll make it my -business to find out where he is." - -"And then?" asked Lucy, starting up and facing Beryl. - -"Then it depends upon Bernard himself." - -"Ah! You would make him pay money to save himself." - -"I have a right to a portion of the estate." - -"You have not," said Miss Randolph, clenching her fists and all her -languor gone. "Bernard is the owner of Gore Hall and of all the -property, and of the title also. If he is alive, as I sincerely hope, -his name will be cleared." - -"And then you will throw me over and try to become Lady Gore." - -"I throw you over now," said Lucy, losing her temper and coloring hotly. -"How dare you speak to me like this, Julius! I will no longer be bound -to you. I never loved you, but I have always tried to see the best side -of you. But you have no good side. You are a mean, cowardly serpent, and -if Bernard is alive I shall do my best to defend him from your snares." - -"But Lucy--" - -"Don't speak to me, and don't dare to call me again by that name. I give -you back your ring--here it is!" She wrenched it from her finger. "Now -leave the house, Mr. Beryl. I am mistress here." - -Julius looked at the ring which she had thrown at his feet, and laughed. -"You take a high tone," he said sneeringly. "But remember that if -Bernard is dead the money goes to charities--" - -"So much the better. You do not get it." - -"Nor you either. You will have to turn out of this luxurious home and -live on the pittance Sir Simon left you." - -"Would I be better off if I married you?" - -"I think you would. I have not much money now, but I will have some--a -great deal some day." - -"By blackmailing Bernard," said Lucy, indignantly. - -Julius picked up the ring and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket -calmly. "We don't know that Bernard is alive. But the fact of Conniston -leaving the army and from Durham's attitude I shrewdly suspect he is, -and in hiding. I shall find out where he is, and then it depends upon -him whether he is hanged or prefers to live abroad on a portion of his -money." - -"The lesser portion. I know the price of your silence," said Lucy, -vehemently. "You will want the Hall and a large income." - -"All I can get," rejoined Beryl, quietly. "And you have refused to share -my fortune with me." - -"Yes. I will have nothing to do with you. And remember that if I catch -you plotting I will tell Mr. Durham." - -"You can tell him the whole of this conversation," snarled Beryl. "I am -not afraid of Durham. If Bernard is alive, he'll have to pay up or be -hanged." - -"He is innocent." - -Julius shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door. There he paused to -utter a final insulting speech. "I don't know whether you intend to -marry Bernard or Lord Conniston," he said, "but I wish, which ever it -is, joy of a spitfire." - -"And an honest woman," said Miss Randolph, wrathfully, for the reference -to Conniston touched her nearly; "but you go too fast. You can't yet -prove that Bernard lives." - -"I go to do so," sneered Julius, and bowed himself ironically out of the -room, leaving Lucy furious both with him and with herself. - -She was angry with herself because she felt that in speaking of -Conniston she had colored. And as a matter of fact she greatly admired -the young lord, even though they had only met once, for Conniston was -one of those irresistible men who appeal to women. Lucy thought--but it -matters little what she thought. All she knew was that her engagement to -Julius, which had always weighed on her conscience, was at an end. "I am -free now--free," she said, stretching her hands. "Oh, what an escape I -have had from that wicked man. He has shown his hand too plainly. I will -put Mr. Durham on his guard, and"--here she blushed--"and Lord -Conniston." - -Julius, walking towards the Bower, was also angry with himself. As Lucy -thought, he had shown his hand too clearly. "It would have been better," -he considered, "to have held my tongue. I should have done so had she -not goaded me into speech. She will tell Durham and that interfering -Conniston and put them on their guard. Well"--he laughed and looked at -the small boy trotting beside him--"I am equal to both." - -The boy was a handsome, innocent-looking little fellow, rather -undersized. With his clear skin, his fair hair and wide blue eyes he -looked like the conventional picture of a cherub. No one would have -suspected that such a childish creature was a born criminal. But his -mind had not yet had time to work on his face, and the mask of his -childhood--for he was only thirteen--concealed his evil nature -successfully. In a few years, when his passions worked their way through -the mask, his face, now so smooth and innocent, would be wrinkled and -sinful. His mind would have marked plainly its signet on the smooth -surface. But at present he looked charmingly innocent, although he -already knew much more about life than was good for him. Julius, in -order that the lad might make an impression on Miss Plantagenet, had -dressed him in a new suit, and pleased with himself--for much of the boy -remained in this precocious criminal--young Jerry trotted along smiling. - -"Jerry," said Beryl, looking down, "mind you are nice to the old lady." - -Jerry tossed his fair curls and looked roguish. "Oh, that's all right, -Mr. Beryl. All old ladies take to me. They think I'm a kind of Holy -Bill, and I let them think so. It pays." - -"Jerry, you are a young scamp of the worst." - -The boy chuckled as though he had received a compliment. "I like doing -things," he explained frankly; "it's fun. When I was with old -grandmother at the castle I hated doing nothing. If it hadn't been for -Victoria--the girl I told you about--I should have left long before. I'm -going to marry her." - -"You know nothing about such things," corrected the respectable Mr. -Beryl, severely. - -"I know a jolly sight more than you think," said the urchin under his -breath and producing a cigarette. - -Julius took it from him. "Miss Plantagenet must not think you smoke, -Jerry. She is most respectable." - -"And dull," said Jerry, putting his hands in his pockets. "Lord! what a -bore stopping with her will be. But I can nip over and see Victoria when -I like." - -"And keep an eye on Lord Conniston as I told you." - -"I'm fly," said Master Moon, and began whistling. - -Julius looked at him with satisfaction. He intended that the boy should -remain in the neighborhood so as to keep watch on Conniston--whom since -he left the army so unexpectedly he suspected--on Durham, and on Alice -Malleson. For this last reason he was introducing him into the house. If -Bernard were alive--as Julius began to suspect--he would come to one of -these three people, and then Jerry would at once become aware of the -fact. Then it would remain with Bernard whether to be hanged or to -surrender a large portion of the property which Beryl thought rightfully -belonged to him. How he came to this conclusion it is difficult to say. - -Miss Berengaria was as usual in the garden looking after the well-being -of some white chrysanthemums. She raised her head when she saw her -visitors, and a look of annoyance crossed her face when she saw Mr. -Beryl. Notwithstanding Durham's advice, she found it difficult to keep -her natural dislike of the young man in abeyance, and but for the sake -of Alice she would have refused to let him enter the Bower. As it was, -and with great diplomacy--so great that it deceived even the astute -Beryl--she asked him to come into the house. Luckily Alice was out of -the way, having gone to pay a visit. But she was expected back -momentarily, and Miss Berengaria wished to get rid of Julius before the -girl returned. She might be able to conceal her real feelings, but Alice -being so young and impulsive might show her dislike too plainly and put -Beryl on his guard. - -"Who is this you have here?" asked Miss Plantagenet, putting on her -spectacles and surveying Jerry with admiration. "What a pretty lad!" - -"He is a lad I wish you to help," said Beryl, blandly. "Last time we -met, Miss Plantagenet, you mentioned that you wanted a page." - -"Not exactly a page," said the old dame, rubbing her nose, a sure sign -she was perplexed. "Merely a boy to see after the fowls, and to wait -about the house when necessary." - -"I love fowls," said Jerry sweetly, and looking as innocent as a babe, -"and dogs and things like that." - -"You seem a nice lad. Who is he, Mr. Beryl?" - -"A poor boy who sold matches in London." - -"But I didn't always," piped Jerry, shifting from one leg to the other -in feigned embarrassment, and playing his part perfectly. "I lived with -grandmother at Cove Castle." - -"That's Lord Conniston's place," said Miss Berengaria, more perplexed -than ever. "What were you doing there?" - -"I lived with grandmother. My name is Jerry Moon." - -"Oh! And how did you come to be selling matches?" - -"His lordship got me a situation at a tobacconist's," said the -child-like Moon, "and then he got me turned off." - -"Why? That is not like Lord Conniston." - -"You had better not ask the reason," interposed Julius; "it is not to -Lord Conniston's credit." - -"But I must know the reason," said the old dame, sharply, "if you want -me to take the lad into my service." - -Jerry in answer to a look of Beryl's began to weep ostentatiously. - -"I saw his lordship dressed as a soldier," he snuffled, "and I told Mr. -Beryl. His lordship was so angry that he got me turned off, saying I was -ungrateful." - -"You should always hold your tongue," said Miss Berengaria, angrily. -"You had no right to tell what Lord Conniston wished kept secret. It was -only a freak on his part. He left the army at my request." - -"At your request?" said Julius, looking at her directly. - -Forearmed as she was, Miss Berengaria, with the consciousness of -Bernard's secret, flushed through her withered skin. However, she did -not lower her eyes but turned the conversation defiantly. "Let us keep -to the matter in hand. Do you want to enter my service?" - -"Yes, sweet lady." - -"Don't talk like that, child. Call me ma'am." - -"Yes, ma'am," said Jerry, submissively. "Mr. Beryl--such a kind -gentleman, ma'am--said you would help me." - -"I will so long as you are honest." - -Jerry thrust his tongue in his cheek, but Julius answered, "I can vouch -for his honesty," he said. "But he talks too much." - -"He must hold his tongue here," said the old dame, severely, and shaking -her trowel at the boy. "Where are his clothes?" - -"I have none but what's on," cried Jerry. "The kind gentleman got them -for me, ma'am." - -"You are a better Christian than I thought," said Miss Berengaria, -looking at Beryl. "Well, you can stay here, boy. Go to the kitchen and -tell the servants to give you something to eat." - -Jerry grinned, and ducked towards the door. "Good-bye, Jerry," said -Beryl, kindly. "Don't forget me." - -"If I do may I be--oh no, kind lady--I mean, ma'am--I won't swear. I -never did, having been to Sunday school. Yes, ma'am, I'm going," and -Jerry in answer to an imperative wave of his new mistress's hand -disappeared. Miss Berengaria turned to Beryl. - -"He certainly has a long tongue," she said severely. "I must see that he -doesn't swear or smoke or indulge in any of those wicked things. I hope -he will do your recommendation credit, Mr. Beryl." - -"I hope he will," said Julius, and felt a strong inclination to thrust -his tongue in his cheek also. Then he took his leave and the old lady -watched him go. - -"What is this for?" she asked herself, and went inside to write a report -to Durham. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - A CONSULTATION - - -A week later Bernard was seated in the sitting room on the first floor -of the castle looking out at the landscape. It was picturesque but -depressing. The sun had just set behind dark clouds, and the red glare -behind them looked like a fire in a grate. The marshes were covered with -white mist, and the arm of the sea that reached up to the castle walls -resembled a stream of blood. And over all the veil of night was falling -darker and darker. Even to a mind at ease the prospect would have been -cheerless, but to Bernard in his present low spirits it was positively -suicidal. He felt more miserable than he had ever done in his life. - -While watching and waiting, he knew not for what, the sound of voices -was heard. As he started to his feet with that nervousness which had -increased of late, the door opened slowly and Mark Durham entered -smiling. Bernard with an ejaculation of surprise hastened towards him -with outstretched hands. - -"My dear Mark, how unexpected and how jolly. I was just dying to see -someone. When did you arrive?" - -"This very minute, and Mrs. Moon"--he turned to the door through which -could be seen the gigantic form of the ogress--"showed me up at once. I -have come for the night"--he raised his voice for the benefit of the -housekeeper--"on business connected with Lord Conniston's estate." - -"Sir," said Mrs. Moon, peering in, "don't tell me as his lordship is -going to fight." - -"No! no! Make yourself easy. He has left the army. Should he go to the -front it will be in a way more befitting his rank." - -"And a relief it is to hear that," said Mrs. Moon, placing a large hand -on her ample bosom. "When Jerry, who is my grandson, wrote me his -lordship was a common soldier, I could have fainted, but what I thought -Victoria would bring me to with hot water like the spiteful imp of -darkness she is." - -"Did Jerry write?" asked Durham, making a sign to Gore to be silent. - -"Of course he did, and said as he had been turned out of his employment -for a--recognizing of his lordship--a thing I should never have thought -his lordship would have done, seeing he got my own flesh and blood, -which Jerry is, the situation." - -"It was not for that reason, Mrs. Moon. Jerry told a lie if he wrote -that to you." - -"Printed or speaking lies, he tells plenty," moaned the giantess. "Oh -dear me, so like his poor dear father, though I thumped him rarely when -I had the strength. But what's my Jerry, bad as he is and liar though he -be, a-doing of now? He may be starving in that nasty London, and a rare -child he was for tit-bits." - -"I can tell you where he is, Mrs. Moon," broke in Bernard. "I have just -heard." He glanced towards the table wherein lay a letter. "He is a page -in the house of Miss Plantagenet at Hurseton." - -"Deary me," said Mrs. Moon in mild surprise. "I do hope as he'll give -satisfaction, and pleased I am. I must tell Victoria, she being taken up -greatly with my Jerry, though both of them be but young." - -Durham detained her. "No! Don't say a word to Victoria." - -"And why not, sir?" - -"If you do Jerry will lose his post," explained Durham. "Miss -Plantagenet has heard of Victoria, and she doesn't seem to be a good -companion for Jerry. Only on condition that Victoria has nothing to do -with Jerry will the boy be kept on. It is for this reason he has not -been over to see you." - -"And him being so near and denying his own flesh and blood," wailed Mrs. -Moon, raising her large hands; "but Jerry was always bad. Well, I don't -want him to lose his place, so I'll hold my tongue, and right Miss -Plantagenet is, Victoria being a bad and wicked critter as I'd take my -Bible oath. If only another girl would stop here I'd give Victoria the -walking-ticket. But, bless you, the castle's that dismal and the----" - -Here Durham interrupted impatiently. "Go and send up some tea, Mrs. -Moon, and hold your tongue about Jerry's whereabouts. If Victoria -learns, she may go over, and then Jerry would be dismissed." - -"To the gallows," said the housekeeper, closing the door, "to which he -will assuredly go," she added, opening it again, "he taking after his -forebears, who were hanged for many evils. Tea did you say. Ah, well, -there's some comfort in tea," and muttering to herself the weak old -creature left the two gentlemen to themselves. - -By this time Bernard had returned to the fire and was pushing forward a -chair for Durham. "I am glad to see you, Mark," said he, cordially. "But -why did you stop me speaking?" - -"I didn't stop you, worse luck," said Durham, running his hand through -his curly hair. "I didn't want Mrs. Moon to know where Jerry was. I only -hope she will hold her tongue; but if she does tell Victoria, and she is -weak enough to babble a lot, Jerry will learn in a way I need not -describe that you are here." - -Bernard saw that he had been foolish and bit his lip. "I should have -been silent," he said. "But the fact is, Mark, I didn't think of Jerry -being dangerous. Alice simply wrote saying that he had been engaged by -Miss Berengaria as a page, and that she would give me the details when -she came to-morrow." - -"So like a woman," grumbled Durham, sitting down. "It would have been -better had she told you that Beryl had induced Miss Plantagenet to take -the boy as a page." - -Bernard stared. "But she is on my side," he faltered. - -"Of course she is, and for that reason she has taken the boy. I told her -to be civil to Beryl, so that I might learn what his game was. It is -better that we should keep all these people in sight. I have my eye on -Beryl, who haunts my office. Jane Riordan is in my employment. Miss -Randolph keeps watch on Mrs. Gilroy, and Miss Plantagenet will see that -Jerry--or Judas as Conniston calls him--does no mischief. If I can get -all the threads into my hands, Bernard, I'll soon be able to find a clue -likely to lead me to the central mystery of this labyrinth. And there's -no denying," added Durham, wrinkling his brows, "that the case is a -perplexing one." - -"I understand about you and Miss Berengaria," said Bernard, nursing his -chin, "you are my friends; but Lucy. I have always had my doubts about -Lucy, and offended Conniston by saying so. He admires Lucy." - -"Miss Randolph is entirely to be trusted," said the lawyer, decisively; -"she is your friend, and has broken off her engagement with Beryl. I -think he showed too plainly that he wanted to ruin you and----" - -"Does he know that I am alive?" interrupted Gore, much perturbed. - -"No! But I think he is suspicious. He has some rascally scheme in -his head or he would not have placed Judas in Miss Berengaria's -establishment; luckily, the old lady will watch the boy. However, as I -was saying, the engagement between Miss Randolph and Beryl is ended. She -told me that she had given him back the ring. She is quite on our side." - -"Conniston will be glad," said Gore, smiling in a haggard sort of way; -"he admires Lucy." - -"So do I. She's a charming girl, especially now that she has been -allowed to exert her individuality, which was crushed by Sir Simon. I -often wondered you did not fall in love with her, Bernard." - -"Oh, we are like brother and sister," said Bernard, quietly, then he -sighed and started to his feet. "See here, Mark, I can't stand this sort -of thing any longer." - -"What sort of thing?" - -"This inaction. Here I am mouldering in this old castle, a prey to -apprehension, and letting other people do my work. Why shouldn't I come -to life and give myself up?" - -"You can do that later, when we know more about the case than we do at -present. Don't be rash, Bernard." - -Gore walked up and down the room. "The life will drive me mad," he said -impatiently. "Thank Heaven Alice comes to see me to-morrow." - -"Why didn't she come before?" - -"She would have done so had she thought it safe. Alice is as true as -steel. But with Beryl about the place--and he has called several times -on Miss Berengaria--she thought it best to postpone her visit. But -Conniston asked them both over to-morrow, and they are coming openly." - -"So they told me," rejoined Durham, coolly, "and I particularly -impressed on them that they were not to bring that imp over. If he -learns you are here--" The lawyer paused. - -"What will he do?" - -"Sell you to the highest bidder. I think we can get the better of Beryl -there, though. We have the money and Beryl hasn't. Judas is in the -employment of Beryl so long as it pays him. But if I promise him a good -sum he'll hold his tongue whatever he learns. It's just as well, seeing -how rash you were telling his grandmother where he is to be found." - -"I was foolish," admitted Gore, gloomily, "but I am so worried that I do -foolish things. Do you think there is any chance of getting at the -truth, Mark?" - -"Here's the tea," said Durham, rising at the sound of a shuffle at the -door. "Let me have a cup, and then I'll tell you what I have -discovered." - -"Anything important?" asked Gore, as the door opened. - -"Very important. I have a clue." - -It was Victoria, sharp and dark and vixenish as ever, who brought in the -tray. But Durham had spoken in low tones, so he did not think she had -heard. Besides, he was not so alarmed about her and Judas as he had -been. Both were venal, and at any cost their silence would have to be -purchased. It would be better for Bernard to lose half his estate than -remain a fugitive from justice. Victoria darted a suspicious glance at -Bernard, as from the air of mystery surrounding his stay at the castle -she thought he was, as she put it, "wanted for something." But she was -too clever, and, truth to say, too impotent to move without the -co-operation of Jerry Moon. Besides, beyond a mere suspicion, she had -nothing to go upon. Queerly enough, she had heard nothing of the murder, -but then Mrs. Moon kept her so close that Victoria rarely had an -opportunity of indulging her gossipping instincts, of which she had her -full share. - -When she withdrew, Durham poured out two cups of tea and ate some toast. -Gore waited patiently enough, but there was a restless air about him -which showed that his patience was tried severely. At length Durham -satisfied his appetite, took the edge off it as it were, and then -returned to his seat. - -"Bernard," he asked, poking the fire, "you never told me that Sir Simon -gave you a check for one thousand pounds?" - -Gore started up with an exclamation. "What do you mean? I never received -such a large check as that in all my life." - -"But your grandfather gave you one in September, payable to bearer." - -"No. He certainly did not. You forget that we had quarrelled. From the -moment I left the Hall some months ago I never received a penny from -him. I lived, as you know, on what little money I inherited from my -father. You gave fifty pounds to me yourself." - -"I went to the bank," said Durham, with an air of satisfaction, "and -asked if such a check had been presented, and by whom?" - -"But how did you learn about this check?" - -"Oh! I found it amongst Sir Simon's private papers when he died. It had -been honored and returned cancelled with the bank-book. I need not have -asked if it had been presented, as it had, and had also been paid. But I -wanted to examine the whole thing from the beginning. The teller--who -knows you--informed me that you presented the check about the beginning -of October, and that he paid you the money." - -"It is utterly false!" cried Gore, violently. - -"Keep your temper, old boy," said Durham, soothingly. "I know that as -well as you do. The man who presented the check was dressed as an -Imperial Yeoman. He told the teller he had enlisted, and the teller, -thinking he was you, wished him good luck." - -"But, Mark," said Bernard, much perplexed, "this double of mine must be -extraordinarily like me, for the teller knows me well." - -"There is a reason for the likeness!" The young man hesitated, wondering -if it would be right to tell his friend that Mrs. Gilroy claimed to be -the first wife of Walter Gore. On rapid reflection, he decided to say -nothing about the matter at present, knowing Bernard's violent temper. -He therefore confined himself to bare detail. "Mrs. Gilroy called at my -office," he said slowly, "to complain that the one hundred a year left -to her by Sir Simon was not enough." - -"Oh, confound Mrs. Gilroy," said Gore, impatiently. "I want to know -about this check. This double who presented it must be the fellow who -masqueraded in the kitchen." - -"And perhaps--who knows?--may have murdered Sir Simon." - -"It's not unlikely. Mrs. Gilroy said she admitted someone like me--or, -as she thought, me--about ten, and----" - -"We'll come to that presently. I examined Jane Riordan, who was courted -by this fellow apparently to get into the house. She described you -exactly, but when I showed her your likeness she noticed that the mole -on your chin was absent from the man who met her." - -Bernard involuntarily put up his hand to touch the mole, which was -rather conspicuous. "The man had not this mark?" he asked. - -"No. So the mole you used to curse at school, Bernard, may be the means -of saving your life. Also I got a letter from the girl in which this -fellow makes an appointment. Here it is." - -Gore examined the letter thrown to him by Durham. "It's like my writing, -but it isn't," he said, staring. "In Heaven's name, Mark, what does it -all mean?" - -"Conspiracy on the part of----" - -"Julius Beryl," said Gore, breathlessly. - -"I am not prepared to say that; but certainly on the part of Mrs. -Gilroy. While I was wondering who this double who copied even your -handwriting and called himself by your name could be, Mrs. Gilroy called -on the errand I told you of." - -"Well? Well?" - -"Don't be impatient, old chap. Well, she demanded more money, and she -gave it as her reason for claiming it that your father--" Durham -hesitated, wondering how to explain. - -"Go on, please," said Gore. "I am on thorns." - -"Do you want the truth?" - -"Yes, I do. The whole truth." - -"Will you promise to keep your temper?" - -"Yes. I know I have a bad one, but----" - -"Very good. Don't excuse yourself, Bernard. Well, Mrs. Gilroy claimed to -be the wife of your father, and----" - -Gore started to his feet in a paroxysm of rage. "The wife of my father," -he repeated. "Why, my mother is dead." - -"She said your mother was not the wife of----" - -"Oh!" Bernard sprang to his feet with blazing eyes. "Mark!" - -The lawyer rose. "Keep your temper. I didn't intend to tell you, knowing -how you would receive the news." - -"Does this woman dare to say that I am a--a----" - -"Bernard, sit down," said Durham, and literally forced the impetuous boy -back into his chair. "Behave like a civilized being. Mrs. Gilroy claims -to be your father's first wife." - -"But if she lives, and if what she says is true, my mother--I--oh--I -could kill this woman." - -"Gore," said the lawyer, seriously, "don't talk like this; remember what -trouble you are now in owing to your former rash words." - -"Yes! Yes!" Bernard struck his forehead hard. "I know--I am a fool. I -didn't mean--Mark!"--he started up despite the other's efforts to keep -him down--"do you believe this?" - -"No," said Durham, promptly, "I don't. If Mrs. Gilroy was the real wife, -she would not have kept silent so long. But I think she was deceived by -a pretended marriage, and that Sir Simon, knowing this, helped her. I -always wondered what was the bond between them. Now I know. Your father -deceived the woman." - -"But why do you think she had anything to do with my father at all, -Mark? The whole story may be trumped up." - -"I am quite sure that her tale is true, save as to the marriage," was -Durham's reply. "I don't say that she might not have been deceived with -a pretended marriage, and that she thought all was right. But she is not -the real wife. Your mother, born Tolomeo is, and you are legitimately -Sir Bernard Gore." - -"But your reason for thinking she speaks truly?" - -"I will give one; a sufficient one. Mrs. Gilroy declared that her son, -Michael Gore--so she termed him--was the heir. She explained that there -could be no deception, as he is the image of his father." - -"Oh!" Bernard started to his feet, seeing light. "And I am the image of -my father, as was always said. This man must be----" - -"He is. I am sure of that. Michael, your half-brother, is the man -resembling you who masqueraded--probably at the instance of his mother. -I daresay he saw Sir Simon on that night, and was admitted by his -mother. Probably he insisted that he was the heir, and Sir Simon lost -his temper. Then he killed the old man, and----" - -"And Mrs. Gilroy put the crime on to my shoulders. I see it all." - -"I don't," said Durham, dryly. "I wish I did. For instance, I don't see -why you were brought to Crimea Square in the nick of time for Mrs. -Gilroy to accuse you. I don't understand about the Red Window either!" - -Gore walked up and down the room much agitated. "Mark," he cried at -last, "I must come out and face this. I can't sit still here, knowing -that all this villainy is about." - -"You must," insisted Mark, firmly. "Remember I am your lawyer and I will -look after your interests, to say nothing of Conniston, who has remained -in England for your sake. Wait, Bernard. In good time I will bring you -forward." - -"But what will you do?" - -"I shall see Mrs. Gilroy and question her again. She declared that her -son was in America when I accused him to her of having killed Sir Simon. -Now Michael undoubtedly presented this check at the beginning of -October. The murder took place at the end of the month, so Michael was -in England. When I place this fact before Mrs. Gilroy, she may give in -and confess." - -"Confess what?" - -"That you are innocent. Whether she will acknowledge that Michael, her -son, committed the crime I can't say. I'll see her to-morrow, and I left -word with Miss Randolph to-day that I would. The solution of the mystery -lies with Mrs. Gilroy." - -"Where can her son be found?" - -"That we must learn. I may be able to force her to speak. When we find -Michael you can reappear, and then the matter will be threshed out. Jane -will soon be able to distinguish between these Corsican Brothers. -Meantime, remain quietly here." - -"I must! I must! And yet----" - -"And yet you won't think I am doing my best for you." - -"I do--you know I do, Mark. But, after all, my position is terrible." - -"Don't make it worse by acting impulsively. I shall keep you advised of -all that goes on. When does Conniston return?" - -"To-morrow, with Alice and Miss Berengaria. He went over to-day." - -"I saw him there. I expect he will stop the night. Well, while he is -here with Miss Malleson and her aunt, I shall see Mrs. Gilroy." - -"But if she refuses to speak," murmured Gore, anxiously. - -"I have means to make her speak," said Durham, significantly. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - LOVE IN EXILE - - -Next day at twelve o'clock Durham went back to Hurseton to see Mrs. -Gilroy. She alone could relate the true story of the night. But before -he left Bernard he related an incident about which he had forgotten to -tell him on the previous night. - -"Did you ever see your Uncle Guiseppe Tolomeo?" he asked. - -"Several times," replied Bernard, with no very pleased expression. "I -assisted him with money." - -"He is the kind of person who will always have to be assisted," was the -lawyer's reply. "I fear he is a scamp, old fellow." - -"So my grandfather said. I don't think he is a good man myself. All the -same he was my mother's brother, and I must assist him." - -"He'll give you every opportunity to do so," said Durham, dryly. "I had -a visit from him the other day?" - -"What did he want?" - -"His errand was similar to that of Mrs. Gilroy's. He wished to know if -Sir Simon had made any provision for him in the will. I don't know on -what grounds he based his claim, as your grandfather hated him. But he -evidently expected to be remembered. I told him he would get nothing, -and then with true Italian excitability he began to lament that you had -not lived, saying you would have helped him." - -"I shall certainly do that. He is my uncle when all is said and done. -What is he doing?" - -"Playing the violin in some orchestra. The fellow is a gentleman, -Bernard, but a thorough scamp. Since he can earn his own bread I don't -think it is wise for you to let him live on your money." - -"There's no chance at present of my letting him believe I will allow -that," said Gore, rather dolefully. "What else did he say?" - -"Rather a strange thing. He said that he told Sir Simon that the Red -Lamp would not bring you." - -"The Red Window, you mean. My uncle knew about that one at the Hall. -When my mother was alive, and staying--as she did for a time--with Sir -Simon, she used to put a light in the Red Window so as to tell Tolomeo -that she would meet him in the garden on that evening. The window is -visible through a long avenue, and can easily be seen from the road -which runs past the grounds. My poor mother used it as a signal to her -brother, as Lucy used it as a signal to me. And I believe that in days -gone by--in Charles the First's days--it was used in a like manner to -warn loyal cavaliers." - -"Tolomeo did not say the Red Window," replied Durham, wrinkling his -brows, "but the Red Lamp, which makes me think he must have been with -Sir Simon on that fatal evening." - -Bernard looked up alertly, and his brow grew dark. "How do you make that -out?" - -"Well," said Durham, after a pause, "I questioned Jane Riordan again -about the possibility of there having been a red light visible!" - -"There was," interrupted Gore, decisively. "I saw it myself." - -"And Mrs. Webber saw it, although afterwards it disappeared. Well, Jane -told me that there was a lamp on the table in front of the window. She -saw it when she went up with the cook and Miss Randolph." - -"I remember. I was in the grip of the policeman then," said Gore. - -"Well, it is strange, seeing that the apartment was lighted by -electricity, that a lamp should have stood in front of the window." - -"What do you infer?" asked Bernard, doubtfully and uneasily. - -"This much. Your cousin told Sir Simon about the use she made of the Red -Window--your cousin Miss Randolph, I mean--and when she was at the -Curtain Theatre with Beryl, I believe he put the lamp in the window to -attract you." - -"Had the lamp a red glass?" - -"No. But a red bandana handkerchief such as Sir Simon used might have -been stretched across the window. I daresay he did it." - -"But he didn't know that I knew the house," objected Gore. - -"True enough, unless"--here Durham hesitated--"unless it was your -grandfather who sent Jerry Moon to lure you to the square." - -"No! Judas--as Conniston calls him--is Beryl's tool. I would rather -believe that Beryl placed the red handkerchief across the window." - -"There was no handkerchief found," said Durham. "Mrs. Webber saw the red -light, yet when Beryl went out to look for it he could see none, neither -could she. What do you infer from that, Bernard?" - -"That the handkerchief must have been removed in the meanwhile by Beryl. -No," Bernard recollected, "not by Beryl; Mrs. Gilroy prevented him going -up the stairs. But Lucy, the cook and Jane Riordan went up;--one of them -must have removed the handkerchief. I tell you what, Mark," added -Bernard, thoughtfully, "it was Lucy who placed the lamp by the window -and stretched the handkerchief across it." - -"We don't know that a handkerchief was so stretched," said Durham. - -"It must have been to cause the red light," insisted Gore. "Lucy always -had the idea of the Red Window. She was then friendly with Beryl, and -she might have made use of Jerry Moon to bring me to the square in the -hope that, seeing the red light, I might venture into the house and -interview my grandfather." - -"Well," said Durham, rising, "we will ask Miss Randolph. Also we can -question this young Judas, who is now with Miss Plantagenet." - -Bernard did not answer. With his head on his hand he was pondering -deeply. "One thing I can't understand," he said, after a pause: "Why do -you connect my Uncle Guiseppe with the Red Window?" - -"I don't, but with the Red Lamp. In this especial instance, for lack of -red glass a lamp was used. It was not the ordinary lighting of the room, -remember. Now, Tolomeo must have been in the room, and he must have seen -the lamp to make use of such an expression." - -"So you believe he was with Sir Simon when Lucy and Beryl were at the -theatre?" - -"Yes," said Durham, looking directly at Gore, "and Tolomeo is Italian." - -Bernard jumped up nervously. "Do you mean to hint that Tolomeo may have -strangled my grandfather?" - -"Yes, I do. Tolomeo may have come to see him--indeed, he must have done -so to make use of such an expression as the 'Red Lamp.' The two -quarrelled, and perhaps your uncle, losing his temper----" - -"No, no! I can't believe that," said Gore, walking anxiously to and fro. -"Tolomeo is wild but not wicked." - -"That depends on what you call wicked," said Durham, dryly, and -preparing to take his leave. "However, we can leave this clue, if clue -it is, alone at present. What I have to do is to question Mrs. Gilroy -about her son. Also I may see Miss Randolph and Jerry Moon. But of one -thing I am certain, Bernard: your grandfather had several visitors -during that evening. Your half-brother Michael came, also your uncle. -One of the two----" - -"No! I would rather believe Mrs. Gilroy strangled the old man herself." - -"She is quite capable of doing so," said Durham, coolly, "but I do not -think she did. His death was unfortunate for her schemes; he was of more -value to her alive than dead. But it might be that Michael killed Sir -Simon, and that Mrs. Gilroy is using you as a scapegoat. However, I -learn the truth from her to-day." - -"If that theory is correct, Tolomeo----" - -"Is innocent, quite so. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt. But I -want to know what he was doing with Sir Simon on that evening. He may be -able to tell us something if he is innocent himself." - -Gore shuddered. "It is a most involved case," he said hopelessly. - -"I quite agree with you. We have a long dark road to travel before we -come to the light. However"--Durham clapped Bernard on the back--"keep -up your spirits. If time, and money, and friendship can put you right, -Conniston and I will see the thing through. Meantime, as Miss Malleson -is coming here this day, make yourself happy and don't worry." - -"You might as well put the kettle on the fire and say don't boil." - -Durham shrugged his shoulders and said no more. What with his isolation -and anxiety, Bernard was growing morbid, and his only cure lay in the -truth being discovered. Therefore Durham set out to discover it from -Mrs. Gilroy, and left the young man to his by no means pleasant -meditations. - -The day was fine and cold, with much sunshine and no mist. Bernard went -out for a walk on the small spot of dry ground on which the castle is -built. Victoria privately complained to him that she had all the work to -do. Since Mrs. Moon had learned "Kings" she would do nothing but play -the game. Bernard laughed, and saw the housekeeper, telling her again of -the expected arrival of the two ladies. - -"You had better get a good luncheon ready," he said. - -"I'll try," sighed the giantess; "but that game lies heavy on my -conscience. I'm bound to do it at least once, Mr. Grant." She gave Gore -his false name in all innocence. "I do wish, sir, you hadn't taught me -the game." - -"Never mind, you'll do it some day," said Bernard, kindly. - -Mrs. Moon moaned and groaned and went to prepare luncheon, her head full -of the fatal game, which had seized on her rather sluggish imagination -so strongly as to exclude all other thoughts. Bernard went outside and -walked along the causeway which connected the castle with the main road. -He wished to welcome Miss Plantagenet and Alice before the two women -could see them, as it was necessary to inform them that his name for the -time being was Grant. Certainly Conniston might have informed them of -this fact; but the young lord was so feather-headed that Bernard did not -always trust to his discretion. - -Presently an open carriage came in sight driven by Miss Berengaria's fat -coachman. Gore heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that they had not -brought the dangerous Jerry with them. Evidently Conniston had -remembered that part of his instructions. - -"Dear Alice," he said, hurrying forward to meet the carriage as it -turned down the causeway. And he waved his hat, in return for which -token of greeting Alice waved her hand. - -But when the lovers met, their hearts were too full to speak. They -simply took one another's hands and looked into one another's eyes. Miss -Berengaria, alighting at the same time, ordered the carriage to drive to -the castle door, and turned to salute the exile. "Well, young man," she -said in her bluff way, "a nice mess you have got yourself into." - -"Oh no, aunt," protested Alice; "it is not Bernard's fault." - -Miss Berengaria rubbed her nose. "Well, I don't know," she observed -tartly. "Bernard Gore always had a talent for getting himself into -scrapes." - -"I hope Mr. Grant is more cautious," said Gore, leading the way to the -door with a smile. - -"And who is Mr. Grant?" asked Alice, puzzled. - -"I am. I have to take a false name because of the servant, Victoria. She -is so sharp that she might write and tell Judas I am here." - -"Judas!" echoed Miss Berengaria, who, with her dress kilted up, was -picking her way amidst the puddles. "Oh, that brat who says he loves -fowls and harries mine beyond endurance. I assure you, Bernard, the -wretch has spoilt the nerves of the whole poultry yard. I'd give him his -walking-ticket if it were not for you. But I'm bound to keep an eye on -him, according to Durham. And a nice lawyer he is, with his finiking -ways," finished the old lady grimly. - -"There is no danger of Jerry getting any letter," said Alice, as they -entered the castle. "Aunt looks over all the correspondence. Jerry is -behaving himself nicely." - -"Except that he's always in places he shouldn't be," said Miss -Berengaria. "Deuce take the boy, I don't know what he is after." - -"He is on the watch for the arrival of Bernard," said Alice, quietly. -"It is for that reason, I am sure, that Julius asked you to take him." - -"Bah! Beryl!" Miss Berengaria never was respectful to anyone, much less -to Julius, whom she hated. "Beryl doesn't know Gore is alive." - -"Yes, he does," began Alice, then checked herself. "I'll tell you later, -my dear," she added in a lower tone to Bernard. "I have much to say I -don't want my aunt to overhear." - -But that lady was too much occupied with Mrs. Moon to listen. - -"Well, Moon, how are you?" she said grimly, surveying the giantess. "No -younger, I see, and not in good health, I should say." - -"What can you expect from damp marshes, my lady?" whimpered Mrs. Moon, -who, for some unexplained reason, gave Miss Berengaria this title. - -"Rheumatism and ague," said the old dame promptly. "And you look as -though you were getting ready for a fever." - -"Oh, my lady!" - -"Oh, fiddlesticks!" said Miss Berengaria, stalking into the castle. -"Have you a good meal ready? If you have, send it up. I'm as hungry as a -mosquito after my drive." - -"Victoria is laying the table, my lady." - -"Who is she? Oh yes. The brat of a girl that urchin of mine talks about. -He wants to come over and see her, but I won't let him." - -"Why not, my lady? I should like to see my own flesh and blood." - -"Well, then, you won't," snapped Miss Berengaria. "And don't you tell -Victoria the boy is with me, or I'll discharge him." - -"So Mr. Grant said, my lady. He having told me as Jerry was page to your -ladyship." - -"Hum! It's none of Mr. Grant's business. I can manage my own affairs -without his assistance. Come along and show me to a room where I can put -my hair tidy; it's blown about by the wind. And see that the coachman -feeds the horses. He's a fool." - -"I'll see to it, my lady. And Victoria----?" - -"Hold your tongue about Victoria." - -"I will, my lady. Come this way, my lady," and Mrs. Moon plunged along -the corridor with little Miss Berengaria trotting briskly at her heels. -She looked like a cock-boat following in the wake of a three-decker. And -all the time she scolded the meek giantess. - -While Mrs. Moon was thus suffering, the lovers were talking eagerly in -the sitting-room, where the table was already laid for luncheon. -Victoria had departed, so they had the apartment to themselves, and for -the moment, in spite of the depressing surrounding circumstances, they -were absolutely happy. - -"Dearest," said Bernard, taking the girl's hand, "I have hungered for -this moment. Alice, you are more beautiful than ever." - -"Darling! But, Bernard, I have a confession to make. I really thought -for a moment that you were guilty." - -"Alice, how could you?" - -Her eyes filled with tears. "I was mad to doubt you, dearest, but I did. -I thought you might have lost your temper with----" - -"Ah!" groaned Gore, "my terrible temper. But when did you come to think -me innocent, Alice?" - -"Almost immediately. My aunt laughed at the idea that you had killed Sir -Simon. She always stood up for you, and scolded me." - -"I think you deserved it," said Gore, playfully. "However, I forgive -you. The evidence against me is so strong that I don't wonder you -believed I was----" - -"No, Bernard, no. You loved me, and in the face of everything I should -never have credited you with the commission of this crime. But you -forgive me, don't you, dear?" she added, nestling to his heart. - -"Of course I do," replied Gore, and sealed his forgiveness with a kiss. -"So long as you believe me to be innocent now." - -"I do--I do. I wonder that I could have doubted you. Lord Conniston -never doubted you, nor did Mr. Durham, nor my aunt. It was only I -who--oh dear me! How wicked of me." - -"Alice"--he kissed away her tears--"say no more. The circumstances were -enough to shake your faith in me, especially when you knew I had such a -bad temper. And I have it still," sighed Gore, sadly; "even now in spite -of all my trouble I am impatient." - -"Wait, wait! All will be well." - -"I can't see how I am to win free of the trouble, Alice dear." - -"None of us can see, Bernard. But we are in God's hands. He will help -us. See, He has given you a refuge here till your innocence is proved." - -"And how long will I keep this refuge?" said Gore, gloomily. "If that -young imp Judas learns from Victoria that I am here----" - -"Then you can escape to another place. But, Bernard, I have something to -tell you." Alice looked round and took a letter out of her pocket -cautiously. "This is from Julius. He says that he saw you in London." - -"Ah!" Bernard read the letter hurriedly. "My double--my half-brother, -Michael." - -"Your half-brother! I never knew you had one." - -"Nor did I, till Durham found it out from Mrs. Gilroy." - -The next ten minutes was taken up by Bernard in explaining what the -lawyer had learned from Mrs. Gilroy. Alice was extremely astonished and -interested, and quite agreed that it was possible the half-brother might -be the guilty person. "And it explains Mrs. Gilroy's accusation of you," -said Alice, thoughtfully. - -"Without doubt. Mrs. Gilroy never liked me. But do you believe Michael -is the real heir?" - -"No," said Alice, firmly. "Mrs. Gilroy would have claimed the money and -the title for her son had there been a true marriage. There is something -wrong, Bernard. I don't know what it is, but I feel sure that Mrs. -Gilroy is not so secure about her position as she pretends to be." - -"Well," said Bernard, putting the letter into his pocket, "Durham will -tell us what she says." - -Then occurred one of those coincidences which occur in real life quite -as often as they do in novels. Durham suddenly entered the room, looking -disturbed. He saluted Alice, then turned to his client--"Mrs. Gilroy!" -he exclaimed. - -"What of her?" asked Gore. "Has she confessed?" - -"She has left the Hall, and no one knows where she is!" - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - THE PAST OF ALICE - - -The lovers stared at Durham when he made this startling announcement, -for startling it was, considering how necessary Mrs. Gilroy's evidence -was to procure the freedom of Gore. He sat down wiping his face--for he -had ridden over post-haste--and looked excessively chagrined. - -"When did she go?" asked Bernard, who was the first to find his voice. - -"Goodness knows," replied the lawyer in vexed tones. "She left early -this morning without saying she was going. Miss Randolph heard the news -at breakfast. One of the grooms stated that he had seen Mrs. Gilroy -driving in a farmer's trap to the station at Postleigh, about seven -o'clock." - -"Perhaps she will come back." - -"No! She has taken her box with her. She had only one, I believe. I -daresay she has taken fright over what she let out to me the other day -about that precious son of hers"--here Durham remembered that, so far as -he knew, Alice was ignorant of Michael Gore's existence. She interpreted -the look. - -"You can speak freely, Mr. Durham," she said. "Bernard has just told me -all about the matter." - -"Good," said the solicitor, evidently relieved, as it did not -necessitate his entering into a long explanation, of which he was rather -impatient. "Then you know that Bernard and I suspect Michael Gore----" - -"He has no right to that name," said Bernard, peremptorily. - -"Well, then, Michael Gilroy, though for all we know his mother may not -have a right to that name either. But to come to the point. This -disappearance of the woman makes me more certain than ever that she -alone can tell the story of that night." - -"And she won't tell it if it incriminates her son," said Alice. - -"No, that's certain. I made inquiries----" - -"You must have been quick about it," observed Gore, glancing at his -watch. "It is barely three o'clock." - -"I went at once to make inquiries," said Durham. "Mrs. Gilroy ordered -the trap overnight and had her box removed, though how she managed it -without the servants at the Hall knowing, I am not prepared to say. But -she did, and went to the Postleigh station. There she took a ticket to -London. She is lost there now"--here Durham made a gesture of -despair--"and goodness knows when we will set eyes on her again." - -"I can tell you that," put in Alice, briskly, and both men looked -inquiringly at her. "She will reappear when she is able to establish the -fact that Michael is the heir." - -"Which means that she must prove her own marriage, if there was -any--begging your pardon, Miss Malleson--to have taken place prior to -that of Walter Gore with Signora Tolomeo." - -"My uncle will be able to prove that." - -"I'll see him about it, as there is some difficulty in knowing where -your parents were married, Bernard. Your father kept the marriage a -secret from you grandfather. Afterwards, Sir Simon received your mother -at the Hall, and was fairly friendly with her. I don't think he ever -became quite reconciled to your father." - -"Well! well!" said Bernard, hastily, "let us leave that point alone for -the present. What are we to do now?" - -"We must have a counsel of war. By the way, Conniston is stopping at the -Hall till this evening, Bernard. He will be back at dinner." - -Alice smiled. "I think Lord Conniston is enjoying himself." - -"You mean with Miss Randolph," said Durham. "I devoutly wish he may take -a fancy to that lady----" - -"I think he has," put in Bernard, smiling also. - -"All the better. If he makes her Lady Conniston, it will be a good day's -work. Only marriage will tame Conniston. I have had no end of trouble -with him. He _is_ a trial." - -"Oh, Lucy is a clever girl, and can guide him if she becomes his wife, -Mr. Durham. And now that her engagement is broken with Mr. Beryl, I -daresay it will come off--the marriage I mean. She seems to be attracted -by Lord Conniston." - -"And small wonder," said Miss Berengaria, entering at this moment. "I -really think Conniston is a nice fellow--much better than Bernard, -here." - -"I won't hear that, aunt," said Alice, indignantly. - -"My dear, I always speak my mind. How are you, Durham?" added the old -lady, turning on the dapper solicitor. "You look worried." - -"Mrs. Gilroy has bolted." - -Miss Berengaria rubbed her nose. "The deuce take the woman! Why has she -done that? I always thought she was a bad lot." - -"Do you know anything about her, aunt?" - -"Yes, I do, and much more than she likes. She's a gipsy." - -"I thought she was," said Durham, remembering the Romany dialect used by -the housekeeper, "but she doesn't look like a gipsy." - -"Well," said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose again and taking a seat, -"she's not a real gipsy, but I believe some tribe in the New Forest--the -Lovels, I understand--picked her up, and looked after her. All I know of -her dates from the time she came to Hurseton, with the gipsies. She was -then a comely young woman, and I believe Walter Gore admired her." - -"My father," said Bernard, coloring. - -"I beg your pardon, my dear," said the old lady. "I can't say good of -your father, and I won't say bad, so let me hold my tongue." - -"No," said Durham, rather to the surprise of the others. "Now you have -said so much, Miss Plantagenet, you must say all." - -"All what?" demanded the old lady, aggressively. - -"Well, you see, Mrs. Gilroy claims to have married Walter Gore." - -"Then she's a liar," said Miss Berengaria, emphatically and vulgarly. -"Why, Walter was married to your mother, Bernard, at that time." - -"Are you sure?" he asked eagerly. - -"Of course I am. I don't make any statements unless I am sure. It -was after the marriage; for Sir Simon--I was friends with him -then--consulted me about your father having married the Italian -woman--begging your pardon again, Bernard. I then learned the date of -the marriage and it was quite three years afterwards that Walter saw -Mrs. Gilroy. I don't know what she called herself then. But she -disappeared, and I understand from Sir Simon she married Walter under -the impression he was a single man--drat the profligate!" added Miss -Berengaria. - -"Then the son----" - -"Son!" echoed the old lady, turning to Durham, who had spoken. "You -don't mean to say there is a son?" - -"Yes." And Durham, thinking it best to be explicit, gave a detailed -account of Mrs. Gilroy's interview. Miss Berengaria listened with great -attention, and gave her verdict promptly. - -"It's as plain as the nose on my face," she said. "Mrs. Gilroy was -really married as she thought, but when she came to see Sir Simon--and -that was after the death of both of your parents, my dear," she -interpolated, turning to Gore, "she must have learned the truth. I think -the old rascal--no, I won't speak evil of the dead--but the good old -man"--her hearers smiled at this--"the good old saint was sorry for her. -He made her the housekeeper and promised to provide for her after his -death." - -"Five hundred a year, she says," put in Durham. - -"Ah! I can't conceive Simon Gore parting with money to that extent," -said Miss Berengaria, dryly, "especially to one who had no claim upon -him whatsoever." - -"You don't think she had." - -"Deuce take the man! Don't I say so? Of course she hadn't. Walter Gore -deceived her--begging your pardon for the third time, Bernard--but Sir -Simon acted very well by her. I will say that. As to there being a son, -I never heard. But if this--what do you call him?" - -"Michael Gilroy." - -"Well, if Michael Gilroy is the image of Bernard, who is the image of -his father in looks, though I hope not in conduct, there is no doubt -that he was the man admitted by Mrs. Gilroy, who killed Sir Simon. Of -course, she will fight tooth and nail for her son. I daresay--I am -convinced that it is fear of what she said to you, Mr. Durham, that has -made her go away. And a good riddance of bad rubbish, say I," concluded -the old spinster, vigorously, "and for goodness' sake, where's the -luncheon? I'm starving." - -This speech provoked a laugh, and as everyone's nerves were rather worn -by the position of affairs, it was decided to banish all further -discussion until the meal was over. Miss Berengaria without being told -took the head of the table. "I represent the family in the absence of -that silly young donkey," she said. - -"Oh, Miss Berengaria," said Bernard, smiling, "if you call Conniston -that, what do you call me?" - -"A foolish boy, who lost his head when he should have kept it." - -"I lost my heart, at all events!" - -Alice laughed, and they had a very pleasant meal. Miss Berengaria was -really fond of Gore and of Conniston also, but she liked to--as she put -it--take them down a peg or two. But whenever there was trouble, Miss -Berengaria, in spite of her sharp tongue, was always to be relied upon. -Her bark was five times as bad as her bite, therefore those present made -all allowance for her somewhat free speech. - -"We start back at half-past four," announced the old lady, when the -luncheon was ended, "as I don't like driving in the dark. It is now -four, so you have just time to talk over what is to be done." - -"What do you advise, Miss Berengaria?" asked Durham. - -"I advise Bernard to give himself up, and face the matter out." - -"Oh, aunt!" cried Alice, taking her lover's hand. - -"My dear, this hole-and-corner business is no good. And the discovery of -the likeness between Michael and Bernard brings a new element into play. -If Bernard lets himself be arrested, the whole business can be threshed -out in daylight. Besides, as we stand now, that Beryl creature--drat -him!--will make mischief." - -"He has found out that Bernard is alive," said Alice. - -"That's impossible!" cried Durham, waking up and sitting apparently on -thorns. "He doesn't know Bernard is at this Castle." - -"Alice has put the matter wrongly," said Bernard, taking out the letter -of Beryl. "She received this from Julius. He says he saw me in the -streets of London. That means he saw Michael Gilroy." - -"Ah! And made the mistake, as everyone else seems to have done." - -"I doubt that, Alice," said Miss Plantagenet, "I doubt that very much. -It seems to me that Beryl--drat him!--knows a great deal more than we -do. It's my opinion," added the old lady, looking round triumphantly, -"that Beryl has used Michael as an instrument." - -"I think so also," said Durham, quickly, "and it comes to this, that if -I accidentally met Michael, or if he called at my office representing -himself as Bernard, I should accept him as such." - -"What for?" asked Bernard, angrily. - -"There you go with your temper," said Miss Berengaria. "Durham is quite -right and shows more sense than I expected from him. The only way to get -at the truth--which this Michael with his mother knows--is to give him a -long enough rope to let him hang himself. I daresay if Durham won his -confidence, the man might presume on his being accepted as Bernard, and -might give us a clue. What do you say, Alice? Don't sit twiddling your -thumbs, but answer." - -Miss Malleson laughed. "I agree with you, aunt." - -"Of course you do. Am I ever wrong? Well?" She looked round. - -Durham answered her look. "I will go back to London," he said, "and will -advertise for Mrs. Gilroy----" - -"She won't be such a fool as to obey." - -"I beg your pardon, Miss Plantagenet; she may." - -"She won't, I tell you." - -"Then Michael may come." - -"What! with that murder hanging over his head? Rubbish!" - -"You forget Bernard is accused. Michael can clear himself." - -Miss Berengaria snorted and rubbed her nose. "Can he? then I should very -much like to know how he can. Do what you like, young man, but mark my -words: your net will catch no fish." - -"It may catch Beryl," said Bernard, thoughtfully. "When he sees Mark -advertising he will be on the look-out." - -"To have Michael arrested as Bernard," said Miss Berengaria. "Well, he -might. And if so, all the better for you, Gore. Oh dear me"--she rose to -put on her bonnet--"what a lot of trouble all this is." - -"And it rose from Bernard being true to me," said Alice, tenderly. - -"As if you weren't worth the world," said Bernard, assisting her to put -on her cloak. - -"Eh, what's that?" said the old lady. "Hum! Bernard, your grandfather -was a silly fool--no, I won't say that--but he was an upsetting peacock. -The idea of not thinking Alice good enough for you!" - -"She is too good for me." - -"I quite agree with you," said the lawyer, laughing; "but you see, Miss -Berengaria, it was not the personality of Miss Malleson that Sir Simon -objected to, but her----" - -"I know--I know," said the old lady tartly. "Bless the man, does he take -me for an idiot." She sat down. "I'm a fool." - -Everyone looked at one another when Miss Berengaria made this startling -announcement. As a rule, she called others fools, but she was chary of -applying the term to herself. She looked round. "I am a fool," she -announced again. "Alice, come and sit down. I have something to say that -should have been said long ago." - -"What is it?" asked the girl, seating herself beside the old lady. Miss -Berengaria, a rare thing for her, began to weep. "The air here is too -strong for me," she said in excuse. "All the same, I must speak out even -through my tears, silly woman that I am! Oh, if I hadn't been too proud -to explain to that dead peacock"--she meant the late baronet--"all this -would have been avoided." - -"Do you mean my grandfather would have consented to the marriage?" - -"I mean nothing of the sort, Bernard, so don't interrupt," said Miss -Berengaria, sharply, "but I'm a fool. Bernard, I beg your pardon." - -"If you would come to the point, Miss Plantagenet, and----" - -"I am coming to it, Durham," she said quickly. "Don't worry me. It is -this way: Sir Simon objected to Alice because he knew nothing of her -parentage." - -"I know nothing myself," said Alice, sadly. - -"Well then, I intend to tell you now. You are perfectly well born and -you have every right to the name of Malleson, though why Sir Simon -thought you hadn't I can't say. Give me your hand, my love, and I'll -tell you who you are as concisely as possible." - -Alice did as she was told, and Miss Plantagenet began in a hurry, as -though anxious to get over a disagreeable task. Durham and Bernard -listened with all their ears. Miss Berengaria noticed this. - -"You needn't look so eager," she said tartly; "the story is dull. Alice, -do you remember that I told you I was engaged once to a wicked fool?" - -"Yes--you said----" - -"There's no need to repeat what I said. I am quite sure it isn't -edifying. I have far too long a tongue, but old age will be -garrulous--drat it! Well then, Alice, that man who said he loved me and -lied was your grandfather. He married a girl with money, for then I had -only my looks, and I _was_ handsome," said Miss Berengaria, -emphatically; "but George--his name was George and I've hated it ever -since--didn't want beauty or brains. He wanted money, and got it, along -with a weeping idiot whose heart he broke. I swore never to look on a -man again, and when my father died I came to live at The Bower. But I -heard that George's wife had died, leaving him one daughter----" - -"That was me," said Alice, hastily. - -"Nothing of the sort. I said that George--his other name doesn't matter -at present, although it can be mentioned if necessary--I said that -George was your grandfather. The daughter grew up and married your -father, who was a colonel in the Indian army. But both your parents died -when you were young. I received you from your dying mother's arms and I -sent you to a convent. I couldn't bear the sight of you for months," -said the old lady, energetically. "You have a look of handsome George, -and handsome he was. Well then, when you grew up and behaved yourself, I -took you from the convent, and you have been with me ever since." - -"You are my second mother," said Alice, embracing her. - -"The first--the only mother," said Miss Berengaria, sharply. "You never -knew any mother but me, and as your grandfather defrauded me of my -rights to marry, I look upon you as my child." - -"But why did you not tell this perfectly plain story to Sir Simon?" - -"Why didn't I, Durham?" asked Miss Berengaria tearfully. "You may well -ask that. Pride, my dear--pride. Sir Simon and I were in society -together. He wanted to marry me, and I refused. So I never became your -grandmother, Bernard, and I certainly should never have had a son like -your father, who is----" - -"Don't. He is my father after all." - -"Was, you mean, seeing he is dead. Well, my dear boy, I'll say nothing -about him. But Sir Simon loved me and I preferred George, who was a -villain. I couldn't bear to think that Sir Simon should know I had -forgotten my anger against George to the extent of helping his -grand-daughter. An unworthy feeling you all think it--of course--of -course. But I am a woman, when all is said and done, my dears. And -another thing--Simon Gore was too dictatorial for me, and I wasn't going -to give any explanation. Besides which, had he known Alice, that you -were George's grand-daughter--and he hated George--he would have been -more set against the marriage than ever. And now you know what a wicked -woman I have been." - -"Not wicked, aunt," said Alice, kissing the withered cheek. - -"Yes, wicked," said Miss Berengaria, sobbing, "I should have told the -truth and shamed the--I mean shamed Sir Simon. Perhaps I could have -arranged the marriage had I subdued my pride into obeying Sir Simon. But -I couldn't, and he was angry, and all these troubles have arisen out of -my silly silence." - -"Oh, no," said Bernard, sorry for her distress. - -"Oh, yes," cried the old lady, rising and drying her tears. "Don't you -contradict me, Bernard. If I had told the truth and let Sir Simon know -that Alice was well born, he might have consented." - -"Not if he knew that Alice was George's grand-daughter." - -Miss Berengaria tossed her head. "I don't know," she said, moving -towards the door. "I might have managed him, obstinate as he was. But if -Sir Simon had not been angry, he would not have sent you away, Bernard, -and then all this rubbish about the Red Window would not have drawn you -to that dreadful house, to be accused of a wicked crime. But, oh dear -me! what's the use of talking? Here are the horses standing all this -time at the door, and it's getting on to five. Alice, come home," and -Miss Berengaria sailed out wrathfully. - -The others looked at one another and smiled. Then Durham left the lovers -alone and went to assist Miss Berengaria into the carriage. - -She was already in and caught his hand. "Spare no expense to help that -dear boy," she whispered. "He must be set free. And, for goodness sake, -tell Alice to come at once. Why is she drivelling there?" - -"Love! Miss Berengaria, love!" - -"Stuff!" said the old lady, "and a man of your age talking so. Good-bye. -Alice, are you comfortable? James, drive on, and don't upset us." - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - THE UNEXPECTED - - -Miss Berengaria's servants had been with her for a long time and were -all eminently respectable. She was--needless to say--very good to them, -and they adored and obeyed her in quite a feudal manner. When at supper -in the servants' hall--all old and all sedate--they might have been a -company of Quakers from the sobriety of their demeanor. The head of the -table was taken by the cook, and the foot by James the coachman. Those -two were married and were both fat, both devoted to Miss Berengaria, and -both rulers of the other servants. The coachman swayed the little -kingdom of domestics with his stout wife as queen. - -On the very evening Miss Plantagenet came back from Cove Castle, the -servants were enjoying a good supper, and James was detailing the events -of the day. After this his wife narrated what had taken place during his -absence. And at the side of the table sat Jerry, looking the picture of -innocence, occupied with his bread and cheese, but taking everything in. -The information conveyed to James by the cook related to several tramps -that had called, and to the killing of two fowls by a fox terrier that -belonged to a neighbor. - -"And a nice rage the missus will be in over them," said cook. - -"You should have set Sloppy Jane on the terrier," said James. "Our -poultry is prize birds and worth a dozen of them snappy dogs as bite the -heels of respectable folk." - -"Sloppy Jane was with me," said a sedate housemaid. "A tramp came to the -gate asking for Miss Alice, and I couldn't get him away." - -"What did he want with Miss Alice?" demanded James, aggressively. - -"Ah, what indeed!" said the housemaid. "I told him Miss Alice wouldn't -speak to the like of him. But he looked a gentleman, though he had a two -days' beard and was dressed in such rags as you never saw." - -"Did he go, Sarah?" - -"Oh, yes, he went in a lingering sort of way, and I had to tie Jane up -in case she'd fly on him. I didn't want that." - -"Why not?" said the coachman, dictatorially. "Tramps is tramps." - -Sarah pondered. "Well, cook and James, it's this way," she said, with -some hesitation. "This murder of old Sir Simon--" Jerry pricked up his -ears at this and looked more innocent than ever. - -"Go on," said the cook, wondering why Sarah stopped. - -"They said his grandson done it." - -"And that I'll never believe," cried James, pounding the table. "A noble -young gentleman Mr. Bernard, and many a half-crown he's given me. He -never did it, and even if he did, he's dead and gone." - -Sarah drew back from the table. "I really forgot that," she whimpered. -"It must have been his ghost," and she threw her apron over her head. - -"What's that, Sarah? A ghost! There's no such thing. Whose ghost?" - -"Mr. Bernard's," said Sarah, looking scared, as she removed her apron. -"Oh, to think I should have lived to see a ghost. Yes, you may all look, -but that tramp, ragged and torn, was Mr. Gore. Don't I know him as well -as I know myself?" - -"Sarah," said James, while the cook turned pale and Jerry listened more -eagerly than ever, "you rave in a crazy way." - -"Oh, well, there's no knowing," cried Sarah, hysterically, "but the -tramp was Mr. Gore, and I forgot he was dead. His ghost--it must have -been his ghost. No wonder Jane wanted to fly at him." - -"Mr. Bernard's ghost wanting to see Miss Alice!" said cook. "Get along -with you, Sarah! He must be alive. I don't believe all the papers say. -Perhaps he wasn't drowned after all." - -"We must inquire into this," said James, magisterially and feeling for -his glasses. "Oh, by the way"--he drew a dirty envelope out of his -pocket--"here's something for you, young shaver." He threw it across to -Jerry. "I was sitting in the kitchen in his lordship's castle and being -waited on by a dark-eyed wench. I told her of us here and mentioned you. -She said she knew you and asked me to give you that. And, to be sure, -she would know you," added James, half to himself, "seeing Mrs. Moon is -your grandmother, and a fine figure of a woman. But touching this here -ghost----" - -Jerry rose from the table and retreated to a corner of the warm room to -read his note. But he kept his ears open all the time to the coachman's -investigation of Sarah's doings with the tramp. The note was from -Victoria asking Jerry to come over and see her, and stating that there -was a gentleman stopping at the castle. "There's something queer about -him, Jerry, as he keeps himself very much to himself. Also he knows your -whistle as you whistles to me, which is funny. Can't you come over and -see me?" This, with all allowance for mis-spelling, was what Jerry -deciphered. Then he thrust the note into his pocket and returned to the -table. - -"He had an awful cough, this tramp," said Sarah. - -"Ghosts don't cough," remarked cook. - -"This one did awful, and he looked that pale and thin as never was." - -"He went away in broad daylight?" asked James. - -"It was getting dark--about five maybe. I was sorry for him, and I would -have let him in to see Miss Alice, he seemed so disappointed." - -"Ah, Sarah, it's a pity you didn't let him in." - -"But, Mr. James, you can a-bear tramps." - -"Or ghosts," added the cook, fearfully. - -"It were no tramp and no spectre," said the coachman. "I see it all." He -looked solemnly round the company. "This was Mr. Bernard come to see if -Miss Alice will help him. He's alive, God be praised!" - -"Amen," said the cook, bowing her head as though in church. - -"And if he comes again, we will let him in and say nothing to the -police." - -"I should not," said Sarah; "he looked so sad and pale. Oh dear me! and -such a fine, handsome young gentleman he was, to be sure." - -"We will swear to be silent," said James, solemnly, "seeing as we are -all sure Mr. Bernard never killed old Sir Simon." - -"I'd never believe it if a jury told me," said the cook. - -"Young Jerry, swear to be silent." - -"Oh! I'm fly, Mr. James," said Jerry, easily; "but who is Mr. Bernard? -and why did he kill Sir Simon?" - -"He didn't, and he's the present baronet at the Hall, young Jerry. You -don't chatter or I'll thrash you within an inch of your life." - -"Oh, he won't talk," said the good-natured cook. "He's an angel." - -Sarah snorted. She was not so impressed with Jerry's angelic qualities -as the rest of the company. However, Jerry, who had his own reasons to -retire, slipped away unostentatiously and read Victoria's letter for the -second time. Then he talked to himself in a whisper. - -"He's alive after all," he said, "and he's stopping at that castle. I -daresay the old girl"--he thus profanely described his mistress--"went -over to there to see him with Miss Alice. And they brought him back, -dropping him on the way so that he could get into the house quietly. He -knows my whistle. No one but him could know it, as he heard me on that -night. What's to be done? I'll go out and have a look round. He may come -back again." - -Jerry was too young to be so exact as he should be. There were several -flaws in his argument. But he was too excited to think over these. It -never struck him that Miss Plantagenet could have smuggled Gore easier -into the house by bringing him in her carriage after swearing James to -secrecy, than by letting him approach the house in the character of a -tramp. But it was creditable to the lad's observation that he so quickly -conjectured the mysterious stranger at the castle should be Bernard. -Jerry knew that Conniston was a close friend of Gore's, and saw at once -that Bernard had sought the refuge of the castle where he would remain -undiscovered. But for Victoria's hint Jerry would never have guessed -this. It was his duty to communicate this knowledge to Beryl, but for -reasons of his own connected with the chance of a reward or a bribe to -hold his tongue, from someone who could pay better than Beryl--say Lord -Conniston--Jerry determined to wait quietly to see how things would turn -out. Meanwhile he strolled round to the fowls, where he thought it -likely the tramp--if he was a tramp--might come. If not a tramp he might -come this way also as the easiest to enter the grounds. - -The poultry yard was carved out of a large meadow by the side of the -gardens. It ran back a considerable distance from the high road, and at -the far end was fenced with a thin plantation of elms. Wire netting and -stout fences surrounded the yard, and there was a gate opening on to the -meadow aforesaid. Jerry hovered round these precincts watching, but he -did not expect any luck. However, the boy, being a born bloodhound, -waited for the sheer excitement of the thing. - -Now it happened that Miss Berengaria had left the house of a pair of -Cochin fowls unlocked. She would have gone out to lock it herself but -that she was so weary. All the same, she would not delegate the duty to -her servants, as she considered they might not execute the commission -properly. Finally Alice offered to go, and, after putting on a thick -waterproof and a large pair of rubber boots which belonged to Miss -Plantagenet, she ventured out. Thus it was that she paddled round to the -yard with a lantern and came into the neighborhood of Jerry. That -suspicious young man immediately thought she had heard of Bernard's -coming and had come out to meet him. He snuggled into a corner near the -gate and watched as best he could in the darkness. - -It was pouring rain, and the sky was black with swiftly-moving clouds. -These streamed across the face of a haggard-looking moon, and in the -flaws of the wind down came the rain in a perfect drench. - -Alice, with her dress drawn up, a lantern in one hand and an umbrella of -the Gamp species extended above her head, ventured into the yard, and -locked up the precious fowls. Then she came back round by the gate to -see if it was barred. To her surprise it was open. Rather annoyed she -closed it again, and put up the bar. Then she took her way round by the -side of the house to enter by the front door. - -Jerry followed with the step of a red Indian. He was rewarded. - -Just as Alice turned the corner of the house, she heard a groan, and -almost stumbled over a body lying on the flower-bed under the wall of -the house. At first she gave a slight shriek, but before she could step -back the man clutched her feet--"Alice! Alice!" moaned the man. "Save -me!--it's Bernard." - -"Bernard here," said Alice, with a shudder, and wondered how he had come -from the castle. She turned the light on to his face, and then started -back. This was not Bernard. - -In the circle of light she saw--and Jerry slinking along the side of the -fence saw also--a pale, thin face with a wild look on it. The hair was -long and matted, there was a scrubby growth on the chin, and the eyes -were sunken for want of food. Still it was Bernard's face, and but that -she had seen him on that very afternoon, she would have been deceived, -until she had made a closer acquaintance with the tramp. But Alice, -having heard the story of Mrs. Gilroy's son, knew at once that this -miserable creature was Michael. He was representing himself to her as -Bernard, and, mindful of Durham's advice, after the first start of alarm -she determined to treat him as though she believed he was her lover. - -"Can you get to your feet?" she said, touching him, although her soul -shuddered within her when she thought what the man had done. - -"Yes," said Michael, hoarsely, and tried to rise. - -She assisted him to his feet but his weight almost made her sink. "I -must get the servants," said she, trying to disengage herself. - -"No! no!" said the man in a voice of hoarse terror. "They will give me -up. Remember what I have done." - -Alice did remember indeed, and shuddered again. But it was needful for -the clearing of Bernard that she should carry on the comedy so as to -detain the man. A word from her, that she knew who he really was, and he -would fly at once--when all chance of saving Gore would be at an end. -Therefore she half led, half dragged him round the corner of the house -in the driving rain. Jerry waited till the two disappeared and the last -gleam of the lantern vanished. Then he went back to the kitchen -unconcernedly. - -"Where have you been?" asked James, sternly. - -"Looking to see if the poultry gate was all right," said Jerry. "You -see, Mr. James, a tramp might come in there." - -"It was your duty to shut it." - -"I have shut it," said Jerry, with assumed sulkiness. - -"Now don't you give me your lip, young sir, or I'll knock your head -off--do you hear? Any tramps about?" - -"No," said Jerry, mendaciously, "all's safe." And, with a wonderful -sense in a lad of his age, he said no more. Then he sat down to cards -with the cook, and never made a solitary mention of what was going on -in the front of the house. As he quite expected, Miss Plantagenet never -sent for any of the servants. "They'll manage the job themselves," -thought Jerry, playing cheerfully. When he retired to bed he had a -wonderful lot to think about, and more than ever he determined to watch -which way the wind blew so as to make as much money out of his -knowledge as possible. Jerry was a marvellously precocious criminal and -knew much more than was good for him. Miss Berengaria would have -fainted--unaccustomed as she was to indulge in such weakness--had she -known the kind of youth she sheltered under her roof. - -But poor Miss Berengaria had her hands full. She left the front door -open for the return of Alice, and heard it close with a bang. At once -she started from her seat before the fire in the drawing-room to rebuke -the girl for such carelessness, but her anger changed to astonishment -when Alice appeared at the door streaming with wet and supporting a man. -"Aunt!" cried Alice, dropping the man in a heap and eagerly closing the -door. "Here's Bernard!" - -"Bernard!" exclaimed Miss Plantagenet, staring. - -"Yes, yes!" said Alice, passing over and pinching her aunt's arm. "See -how pale he is and hungry. He escaped, and has come for us to save him. -If the police----" - -The man on the floor, who was in a half stupor, half rose. "The -police--the police!" he said thickly, and his wild eyes glared. "No. I -will confess everything. Alice, I am--I am--" He dropped again. - -By this time Miss Plantagenet, accepting the hint of Alice's pinch, was -beginning to grasp the situation. She scarcely relished having a -murderer under her roof, but for the sake of Bernard she felt that she -also must aid in the deception. But she could not conceive how Michael -could have the audacity to pass himself off as Bernard to one who knew -him so intimately as Alice. At the same time, she saw the wonderful -likeness to Gore. He and Michael might have been twins, but Michael had -not the mole which was his brother's distinguishing mark. Still, unless -Michael knew all about Bernard's life, unless he was educated like him, -unless he knew his ways and tricks and manners, it was impossible that -he should hope to deceive Alice or even Miss Berengaria herself. - -Also there was another thing to be considered. How came the man in this -plight? He had received one thousand pounds from Sir Simon in the -beginning of October, and therefore must have plenty of money. Yet here -he was--thin, haggard, in squalid rags, and evidently a hunted fugitive. -It was not a comedy got up to deceive them, for both women saw that the -man really was suffering. He was now lying in a stupor, but, for all -that, he might have sense enough to know what they said, so both were -cautious after a glance exchanged between them. - -"We must take Bernard up to the turret-room," said Miss Berengaria, -promptly. "He'll be all right to-night and then we can send for Payne -to-morrow. Help me with him, Alice." - -"But, aunt, the servants--" - -"They will hold their tongues. I'll see to that." - -"Bless you," murmured the half stupefied man. "I can't thank you -for--Oh! if you only knew all! I want to tell you something." - -"Never mind just now," said the old lady, sharply. "Try and get up the -stairs supported by Alice and myself. Then we'll put you to bed and give -you something to eat." - -"Will I be safe?" asked the man, looking round anxiously. - -"Quite safe. Do you think I would let you be taken, Bernard?" said -Alice, although her soul sickened in her at the deception. - -"I--trust--you," said Michael, with a strange look at her. "I am ill and -dirty, and--and--but you know I am Bernard," he burst out in a pitiful -kind of way. - -"Yes, of course you are. Anyone can see that," said Miss Berengaria, as -Alice didn't answer. "Help him up, Alice." - -The two dragged the man up the stairs painfully, he striving his best to -make his weight light. Miss Berengaria approved of this. "He's got good -stuff in him," she said, when they led him into the small room, which -took up the whole of the second floor of the turret. - -"He always had," said Alice, warmly, and for the sake of the comedy. - -But Miss Berengaria frowned. She applied what she said to Michael. - -Then Miss Berengaria sent Alice downstairs to heat some wine, and made -Michael go to bed. He was as weak as a child, and simply let her do what -she liked. With some difficulty she managed to put him between the -sheets, and then washed his face and hands. Finally, on Alice returning -with the wine and some bread, she fed him with sops of the latter dipped -into the former. After this, as Michael displayed symptoms of -drowsiness, she prepared to leave him to a sound sleep. "And Payne shall -see you to-morrow." - -"But I'll be safe--safe," said the sick man, half starting up. - -"Of course. Lie down and sleep." - -Michael strove to say something, then sank back on his pillows. The two -hurried out of the room and down the stairs feeling like conspirators. -Not until they were safe in the drawing-room with the door closed did -they venture to speak, and then only did so in whispers. Alice was the -first to make a remark. - -"If I hadn't seen Bernard this very day, I should have been deceived, -aunt. Did you ever see so wonderful a likeness?" - -"Never," admitted Miss Berengaria. "But how the deuce"--she was always a -lady given to strong expressions--"does the man expect to pass himself -off to you as Bernard? There's lots of things Bernard has said about -which he must know nothing." - -"I can't understand it myself. Perhaps he came to tell the truth." - -"Humph!" Miss Berengaria rubbed her nose. "I don't think a man who would -commit a murder would tell the truth. My flesh creeped when I touched -him. All the same, there's pluck in the fellow. A pity he is such a -scamp. Something might be made of him." - -"Do you think he has got himself up like this to--" - -"No, no!" snapped Miss Plantagenet, "the man's illness is genuine. I can -see for myself, he's only skin and bone. I wonder how he came to be in -such a plight?" - -"Perhaps he will tell us." - -"He'll tell lies," said the old lady, grimly. "And for the sake of -Bernard we'll pretend to believe him. Wait till I get Durham on to him. -He won't lie then. But the main point is to keep him. He is the only -person who can get Bernard out of the trouble." - -"What shall we do, aunt?" - -"Nurse him up in that room, telling the servants that we have a guest. -They need not see him. And Payne can cure him. When he is cured we will -see what Durham says. That young man's clever. He will know how to deal -with the matter. It's beyond me. Now we must go to bed. My head is in a -whirl with the excitement of this day." - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - THE DIARY - - -Before Miss Berengaria could communicate with Durham, he had left the -castle for town. On hearing this from Bernard, the old lady at once sent -up to him a full report of the arrival of Michael at the Bower under the -name of Gore. - - "He is now a trifle better," wrote Miss Berengaria, "but having - suffered from great privations he is still ill, and, so far as I - can see, is likely to keep to his bed for some time. Payne is - attending to him and says he needs careful nursing and tonics. - He is so weak as to be scarcely able to talk, which is perhaps - all the better, as Alice and I might arouse his suspicions. We - have accepted him as Bernard, and when you come down you can - question him either in that character or as Michael. To tell you - the truth, I am sorry for the boy--he is only twenty-one or - thereabouts, and I think he has been misguided. After all, even - he may not have committed the crime, although he was certainly - with Sir Simon on that fatal night. The servants--with the - exception of my own especial maid, Maria Tait--know nothing of - the man's presence in the turret chamber. And you may be sure - that I am taking care Jerry Moon learns nothing. But I shall be - glad when you can come down to take the matter out of my hands. - I am much worried over it. Conniston comes over daily to see - Lucy Randolph at the Hall, but he is so feather-brained a - creature that I don't care about entrusting such a secret to - him. Nor do I wish Bernard to know. With his impetuosity, he - would probably come over at once, and run the chance of arrest. - The whole matter is in your hands, Durham, so write and tell me - what I am to do. At all events I have a fast hold of Bernard's - double, and you may be sure I shall not allow him to go until - this mystery is cleared up." - -In reply to this pressing epistle, Durham wrote, telling Miss Berengaria -to wait for three or four days. He was advertising for Tolomeo, and -hoped to see him at his office. If, as Durham thought, the Italian had -been with Sir Simon on that night, something might be learned from him -likely to prove the presence of Michael in the room. The examination of -Michael--which Durham proposed to make, would then be rendered much -easier. The lawyer, in conclusion, quite agreed with Miss Plantagenet -that Conniston and Bernard should not be told. "I hope to be with you by -the end of the week," he finished. - -"Deuce take the man," said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose. "Does he -think I can wait all that time?" - -"I don't see what else you can do, aunt," said Alice, when the letter -was read. "And this poor creature is so weak, that I do not think he -will be able to speak much for a few days. All we have to do is to nurse -him and ask no questions." - -"And to let him think we believe him to be Bernard." - -"Oh, he is quite convinced of that," said Alice, quickly. "I suppose he -hoped I would think his altered looks might induce me to overlook any -lack of resemblance to Bernard." - -"Yes, but he must guess when you talk you will find him out, seeing you -know much of Bernard that he cannot know." - -"Perhaps that is why he holds his tongue," said Alice, rising. "But we -must wait, aunt." - -"I suppose we must," said Miss Berengaria, dolefully. "Drat the whole -business! Was there ever such a coil?" - -"Well then, aunt, will you leave it alone?" - -"Certainly not. I intend to see the thing through. Owing to my reticence -to Sir Simon about your parents, Alice, I am really responsible for the -whole business, so I will keep working at it until Bernard is out of -danger and married to you." - -"Ah!" sighed Miss Malleson. "And when will that be?" - -"Sooner than you think, perhaps. Every day brings a surprise." - -One day certainly brought a surprise to Lucy Randolph. She learned that -Conniston loved her, though, to be sure, his frequent visits might have -shown her how he was losing his heart. She was glad of this as she -admired Conniston exceedingly, and, moreover, wished to escape from her -awkward position at the Hall. When Bernard came back and married Alice, -she would have to leave the Hall and live on the small income allotted -to her by the generosity of the dead man. It would be much better, as -she truly thought, to marry Conniston, even though he was the poorest of -peers. One can do a lot with a title even without money, and Lucy was -wise in her generation. Moreover, she was truly in love with the young -man, and thought, very rightly, that he would make her a good husband. - -As usual, Conniston, having taken into his head that Lucy would be an -ideal wife, pursued his suit with characteristic impetuosity. He came -over daily--or almost daily--to Gore Hall, and, finally, when Lucy broke -off her engagement to Beryl, he told her of the whereabouts of Bernard. -Lucy was overwhelmed and delighted. - -"To think that he should be alive after all," she said. "I am so -pleased, so glad. Dear Bernard, now he will be able to enjoy the fortune -and the title, and marry Alice." - -"You forget," said Conniston, a trifle dryly, "Bernard has yet to prove -his innocence. We are all trying to help him. Will you also give a hand, -Miss Randolph?" - -Lucy stared at him with widely-open eyes. "Of course I will, Lord -Conniston," she said heartily. "What do you wish me to do?" - -"In the first place, tell me if you sent a boy to bring Bernard to -Crimea Square?" - -"No. I know the boy you mean. He is a lad called Jerry Moon. Julius -found him selling matches in town, ragged and poor. He helped him, and -the other day he procured him a situation with Miss Berengaria." - -"He is there now. But he--we have reason to believe--is the boy who -lured Bernard to Crimea Square." - -"I know nothing about that," said Lucy, frankly. "Why not ask the boy -himself? It would be easy." - -"We will ask the boy shortly," replied Conniston, evasively, not wishing -at this juncture to tell her that the great object of everyone was to -prevent Jerry thinking he was suspected. "Should you meet the boy say -nothing to him." - -"I will not, and I am not likely to meet the boy. He is usually in Miss -Plantagenet's poultry yard, and I rarely go round there." Lucy paused. -"It is strange that the boy should act like that. I wonder if Sir Simon -sent him to fetch Bernard, and arranged the Red Window as a sign which -house it was?" - -"The Red Window. Ah yes! Mrs. Webber saw the light, and----" - -"And Julius afterwards didn't. I know that. It was my fault. When we -drove up in the carriage on that terrible night I saw the Red Light, and -wondered if Sir Simon had arranged it as a sign to Bernard. When I saw -Bernard in the hall I was not astonished, for I thought he had come in -answer to the light. I went upstairs, and after attending to Sir Simon, -I went to the window. The lamp was before it, and stretched across the -pane was a red bandanna handkerchief of Sir Simon's. I took that away, -so you see how it was Julius did not see the light." - -"Why did you remove the handkerchief?" asked the puzzled Conniston. - -"Well, I wanted to save Bernard if possible, and I thought if the Red -Light which had drawn him were removed, he could make some excuse. -Julius knew about the Red Light, and, as he hated Bernard, I fancied he -would use it against him. But really," added Miss Randolph, wrinkling -her pretty brows, "I hardly knew what I was doing, save that in some -vague way I fancied the removal of the handkerchief might help Bernard. -Is that clear?" - -"Perfectly clear," said Conniston, "and I am glad I know this. May I -tell Bernard and Durham?" - -"Certainly. I want to do all I can to help Bernard." - -"Ah, you are a good woman," said Conniston, eagerly. "I wonder if you -could make a chap good?" - -"It depends upon the chap," said Lucy, shyly. - -"I know a chap who----" - -"Please stop, Lord Conniston," cried Lucy, starting up in confusion. "I -have heaps and heaps to do. You prevent my working." - -Her hurried flight prevented Conniston from putting the question on that -occasion. But he was not daunted. He resolved to propose as soon as -possible. But Lucy thought he was making love too ardently, and by those -arts known to women alone, she managed to keep him at arm's length. She -was anxious that Bernard should be cleared, that he should take up his -rightful position, and should receive back the Hall from her, before -Lord Conniston proposed. Of course, Lucy was ready to accept him, but, -sure of her fish, she played with him until such time as she felt -disposed to accept his hand and heart and title and what remained of the -West fortune. Conniston, more determined than ever to win this adorable -woman, came over regularly. But Lucy skilfully kept him off the -dangerous ground, whereby he fell deeper in love than ever. Then one -day, she appeared with a blue-covered book, the contents of which so -startled them that love-making was postponed to a more convenient -season. - -"Fancy," said Lucy, running to meet Conniston one afternoon as soon as -he appeared at the drawing-room door, "I have found the diary of Mrs. -Gilroy." - -"That's a good thing," said Conniston, eagerly. "She knows more of the -truth than anyone else. We must read her diary." - -"Will that be honorable?" said Lucy, retaining her hold of the book. - -"Perfectly. One does not stand on ceremony when a man's neck is at -stake. Mrs. Gilroy's diary may save Bernard's life. She knew too much -about the murder, and fled because she thought Durham would come and -question her." - -"Oh! Was that why she ran away?" - -"Yes! A woman like Mrs. Gilroy does not take such a course for nothing. -She's a clever woman." - -"And a very disagreeable woman," said Lucy, emphatically. "But what did -she know?" - -Conniston wriggled uneasily. He was not quite certain whether he ought -to tell Lucy all that had been discovered, and, had he not been in love -with her, he would probably have held his tongue. But, after some -reflection, he decided to speak out. "You are, of course, on Bernard's -side," he said. - -"Yes. And against Julius, who hates Bernard. I will do anything I can to -help Bernard. I am sure you can see that," she added in a most -reproachful manner. - -"I know--I know. You are the truest and best woman in the world," said -Conniston, eagerly, "but what I have to tell you is not my own secret. -It concerns Bernard." - -"Then don't tell me," said Lucy, coloring angrily. - -"Yes, I will. You have the diary and I want to read it. To know why I -do, it is necessary that you should learn all that we have discovered." - -"What have you discovered? Who killed Sir Simon?" - -"No. We are trying to hunt down the assassin. And Mrs. Gilroy's diary -may tell us." - -"I don't see that." - -"You will, when you learn what I have to say." And Conniston related -everything concerning the false marriage and the half-brother of young -Gore. "And now, you see," he finished triumphantly, "Mrs. Gilroy is -fighting for her son. It is probable that she has set down the events of -that night in her diary." - -"She would not be such a fool, if her son is guilty." - -"Oh, people do all manner of queer things. Criminals who are very -secretive in speech sometimes give themselves away in writing. You were -at the theatre on that night?" - -"Yes, with Julius; so neither of us had anything to do with the matter, -if that is what you mean." - -"I mean nothing of the sort," said Conniston, quickly. "How can you -think I should suspect you?" - -"You might suspect Julius," said Lucy, suspiciously, "and although we -have quarrelled I don't want to harm him." - -"Would you rather have Bernard hanged?" - -"Oh!" Lucy burst into tears and impulsively threw the book into -Conniston's lap. "Read it at once; I would rather save Bernard than -Julius." - -Conniston availed himself of this permission at once. He took away the -diary with Lucy's permission, and carried it in triumph to the castle. -Here he and Bernard sat down to master its contents. These astonished -them considerably. Conniston made out a short and concise account of the -events of that fatal night, for the benefit of Durham. They were as -follows: - -Mrs. Gilroy, it appears, thought that her son, Michael, was really and -truly in America. She had no suspicion that the lover of Jane Riordan -was her son, but truly believed from the description that he was young -Gore whom she hated--as she plainly stated in several pages. When the -presumed Bernard went away before six, he did not call again at ten -o'clock. The man that called, Mrs. Gilroy asserted, was Bernard, and not -her son. He saw Sir Simon and after a stormy interview he departed. - -"Why then doesn't she accuse me of the crime?" said Gore. - -"Wait a bit," said Conniston, who was reading his precis. "This diary is -meant for her eye alone. Still, she may have thought it might fall into -the hands of another person, and therefore made her son safe. Michael -called before ten--for then, Bernard, you were with Durham and myself. -Michael saw Sir Simon, and then Mrs. Gilroy, pretending the man was you, -says he departed, leaving your grandfather alive. See! here's the bit," -and he read, "Sir Simon was alive after Mr. Gore left the house." - -"Go on," said Bernard. "If I am innocent, why did she accuse me?" - -"Because I believe her son is guilty. He left Sir Simon dead. Mrs. -Gilroy found the body, knew what had occurred, and then ran out on -hearing Jerry's whistle knowing she would meet you. It's all plain." - -"Very plain," said Gore, emphatically. "A regular trap. Go on." - -"Afterwards, and shortly before a quarter past ten, there came a ring at -the door. Mrs. Gilroy went, and there she found Signor Tolomeo, who -asked to see Sir Simon. She took him up the stairs, and left him to -speak with Sir Simon. What took place she did not know, but she was -sitting below working, and heard the door close. It was just before a -quarter to eleven that she heard this." - -"About the time I came," muttered Bernard. - -Mrs. Gilroy--as appeared from the diary--ran up to see if the master was -all right. She found him strangled, and with the handkerchiefs tied over -his mouth and round his neck. Then she ran out and found Gore at the -door. He had come back again, and Mrs. Gilroy said she accused him. She -then stated in her diary that she looked upon Bernard as an accessory -after the fact. He had hired Guiseppe Tolomeo to kill his grandfather, -and then came to see if the deed had been executed thoroughly. Mrs. -Gilroy ended her diary by stating that she would do her best to get both -the Italian and his nephew hanged. - -"Very much obliged to her," said Bernard, when Conniston concluded -reading, and beginning to walk to and fro. "Well, it seems my uncle is -the guilty person, Conniston." - -"I don't believe it," said Dick, firmly. "Mrs. Gilroy is trying to -shield her son. I believe he killed him." - -"If we could only find Michael," said Bernard, dolefully. - -"Ah! Things would soon be put right then," replied Conniston, and -neither was aware that the man they wished to see was at that very -moment lying in the turret chamber at the Bower, "or even Mrs. Gilroy. -Could we see her, and show her the diary, she might put things -straight." - -"I believe she left the diary behind on purpose," said Gore, with some -ill-humor. "I can't believe that Tolomeo killed Sir Simon." - -"What kind of man is he?" - -"A very decent chap in his own way. His blood is hot, and he has a -temper something like the one I have inherited from my mother, who was -Guiseppe's sister. But Tolomeo is not half bad. He has the credit for -being a scamp, but I don't think he deserves it." - -"Can't you see him and show him the diary?" - -"No. I don't know his whereabouts. However, Durham, at my request, has -put an advertisement in the papers which may bring him to the office, -then we can see how much of this story is true. Certainly, Mrs. Gilroy -may have seen him at the house on that night." - -"What would he go for?" - -"To ask my grandfather for money. He was always hard up. Sir Simon hated -him, but if Guiseppe was hard up he wouldn't mind that. I daresay -Tolomeo did see Sir Simon, and did have a row, as both he and -grandfather were hot-blooded. But I don't believe my uncle killed Sir -Simon," said Bernard, striking the table. - -"Well," drawled Conniston, slipping his precis and the diary itself into -an envelope, "I don't see what he had to gain. Tolomeo, from your -account of him, would not commit a murder without getting some money -from doing it. But the best thing to do, is to take this up to Durham -and see what he thinks." - -"I'll come too," said Gore, excitedly. "I tell you, Dick, I'm dead tired -of doing nothing. It will be better to do what Miss Berengaria suggests -and give myself up." - -"Wait a bit," persuaded Dick. "Let me take this up to Durham, and if he -agrees you can be arrested." - -Bernard was unwilling to wait, but finally he yielded sullenly to -Conniston's arguments. Dick with the precious parcel went up to town -alone, and Bernard did what he could to be patient. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - TOLOMEO'S STORY - - -Durham was much excited when he read the account which Conniston had -extracted from Mrs. Gilroy's diary. However, he declined to give an -opinion until he read the diary itself. He then told Dick that the -discovery had been made in the nick of time. - -"The Italian is coming to see me to-morrow," he said, showing a letter. -"I advertised that he would hear of something to his advantage if he -called, as Bernard wants to help him. When he comes, you may be sure -that I shall get the truth out of him." - -"Do you think he's guilty, Mark?" - -"It is hard to say," replied Durham, shaking his head. "The whole case -is so mixed that one doesn't know who is guilty or innocent." - -"Save Bernard," put in Conniston, lighting a cigarette. - -"Certainly. However, we may learn something of the truth from----" - -"Not Mrs. Gilroy," said Conniston quickly, "unless you have succeeded in -finding her." - -"No, I have not been so lucky. She has vanished altogether. But Beryl -may be able to tell something." - -"But he won't." - -"I am not so sure of that. We have Jerry in our hands, and that young -scamp is in the employment of Beryl. He will have to explain how the boy -came to lure Bernard to Crimea Square in time to be accused." - -"Why not ask Jerry?" - -"Because Jerry would immediately run away. No, I'll wait. Perhaps -Michael may speak out. He's ill enough." - -"Michael?" echoed Conniston in amazement. "What of him?" - -"Oh, the dickens!" said Durham in quite an unprofessional way, and stood -up to warm himself at the fire in his favorite attitude. "I didn't -intend to tell you that." - -"Tell me what?" - -"That we had caught Michael Gilroy, or Gore, or whatever he chooses to -call himself." - -"Have you caught him? Well, I'm hanged!" - -"I hope he won't be," said Durham, grimly. "I did not catch him myself. -He came one night last week to the Bower to see Miss Malleson." - -Conniston jumped up with an exclamation. "That is playing a daring -game," he said. "Why, the fellow must know that she would spot him." - -Durham pinched his chin and eyed Conniston. "I can't understand what his -game is myself," he said slowly. "Of course, so far as looks go, the -fellow is the double of Bernard without the distinguishing mark of the -mole." - -"You have seen him then?" - -"Yes. A day or two ago. I asked Miss Plantagenet to pretend that she and -Miss Malleson believed him to be Bernard. They have done so with such -success that the boy--he is no more, being younger than Bernard--is -lying in bed in the turret-room quite under the impression that he has -bamboozled the lot of us. Of course," added Durham, looking down, "he -may be trusting to his illness to still further increase the likeness to -Bernard, which, I may say, is sufficiently startling, and to supply any -little differences." - -"That's all jolly fine," said Dick, getting astride of a chair in his -excitement, "but Bernard and Alice, being lovers, must have many things -in common about which this man can't know anything." - -"Quite so. And Miss Malleson knew he wasn't Bernard, seeing that the -real man is at your castle. But even without that knowledge I don't -think she would long have been deceived. Michael, putting aside his -marvellous resemblance, is a common sort of man and not at all well -educated. If you can image Bernard as one of the common people, without -education and polish, you have Michael." - -"What a nerve that Michael must have. How does he carry it off?" - -Durham shrugged his shoulders. "The poor chap is not in a condition to -carry off anything," he said; "he's lying pretty well worn out in bed, -and Payne says it will be a long time before he is himself. I think he -is simply pleased to know he has been accepted as Bernard, and is glad -to postpone an explanation in case he'll be turned out." - -"There's no danger of that," said Dick. "My aunt wouldn't turn out a cat -in that state, much less a human being." - -"Oh, Miss Berengaria seems to have taken quite a fancy to the man. She -declares there's pluck in him, and----" - -"But seeing he is a criminal--a murderer----" - -"We don't know that he is, Conniston, and this"--Durham laid his hand on -the diary--"goes to prove his innocence." - -"Bosh!" said Dick, jumping up. "I believe Mrs. Gilroy prepared that -diary and left it out so that Miss Randolph would drop across it. If -anyone killed Sir Simon it was Michael." - -"Or Beryl." - -"He was at the theatre." - -"I know, but he managed to get the deed done by someone else. I really -can't give an opinion yet, Conniston," said Durham resuming his seat, -with a shrug; "to-morrow, when I see this Italian, I may learn something -likely to throw light on the case. Meantime go back and tell Bernard I -am working hard." - -"That goes without the speaking," said his lordship, lightly; "we know -what a worker you are, Mark. But Bernard wishes to take a hand in the -game." - -"Then he shall not do so," said Durham, sharply. "If he appears at this -juncture all will be lost. I have a plan," he added, hesitating. - -"What is it?" demanded the curious Conniston. - -"Never you mind just now. It has to do with Mrs. Gilroy being drawn from -her hiding-place. I'll tell you what it is after I have seen Tolomeo. -But the success of my plan depends upon Bernard keeping in the -background. If you tell him about Michael----" - -"He'll be over like a shot. And after all, Mark, it's not pleasant to -think a fellow is masquerading as you with the girl you love." - -"Bernard must put up with that," snapped Durham, who was getting cross. -"His neck depends upon my management of this affair. Should he go to -Hurseton he will be recognized by everyone, let alone Jerry, who would -at once tell Beryl. You know what that means." - -"I know that Beryl is playing for a big stake he won't land," said -Conniston, grimly, and walked towards the door. "All right, Mark, I'll -sit on Bernard and keep him quiet. But, I say, I want to tell you I am -in love with----" - -"Conniston, I will certainly throw something at your head if you don't -clear. I have enough to do without listening to your love----" - -"Not mine. She is--well there, I daresay your nerves are thin. I do wish -all this business was ended. You used to be no end of a chap, and now -you are as cross as a battery mule and twice as obstinate." - -Lord Conniston talked himself out of the office, and went down to Cove -Castle by a later train. Here he managed to pacify the impatient -Bernard, no easy task. But the lessons of that week taught Dick -patience, a quality he had always sadly lacked. - -True to the appointment made by letter, Signor Tolomeo appeared at -Durham's office and was at once shown in. He was a tall man with a -keen, clever, dark face. His hair and mustache were gray and he had a -military appearance. In his bearing there was great dignity, and it -could be seen at a glance that he had good blood in his veins. It was -true what Sir Simon had said. The Tolomeo family had been nobles of -the Sienese Republic for many a century, and although their present-day -representative was poor in pocket and played the violin for a living, -yet he looked a great lord. But his dark eyes had a somewhat reckless -expression in them, which showed that Tolomeo lacked what is called -moral principle. - -Durham received him politely and indicated a seat near his desk with a -smile. Tolomeo, with great courtesy, bowed and sat down. Then he fixed -his large eyes on the lawyer with an inquiring air, but was too astute -to say anything. He had been brought here on an errand, the purport of -which he knew nothing; therefore he waited to hear what Durham had to -say before he committed himself. - -"Signor Tolomeo," said the lawyer, "you were surprised to see my -advertisement?" - -"I was indeed," replied the Italian, who spoke excellent English. "Our -last interview was not particularly pleasant." - -"This may be still less so," rejoined Durham, dryly; "but as it concerns -your nephew Bernard, perhaps you will be frank with me." - -"Ah, poor Bernard!" said the uncle. "He is dead." - -"No. He is alive." - -"Gran Dio!" Tolomeo started from his seat in a somewhat theatrical -manner. "What is this you say, signor?" - -"I say that he is alive, but in hiding. I tell you this because I know -you like Bernard and appreciate his kindness to you." - -"Yes! The boy is a good boy. He has been very kind to me. Although," -added Tolomeo, with a somewhat cynical air, "I do not deserve it. Ah, -signor, the want of money makes us all sad rascals." - -"That depends upon ourselves," said Durham, somewhat stiffly. "No man -need be a rascal unless he likes." - -"Money can make a good man or a bad one," insisted the Italian. - -"I don't agree with you. But this is not what I wish to talk about, -Signor Tolomeo. You are pleased that Bernard is alive." - -"Very pleased. But I trust he will escape." - -"Ah! Then you believe he is guilty of the crime." - -"He--or the other one." - -"What other one?" asked Durham, sharply. - -Tolomeo looked directly at the lawyer. "Before I speak out," he said, -"it will set my mind at rest to know what you mean." - -"Does that hint you want money?" - -"Money is always a good thing, and I need it badly," said Guiseppe -shrugging, "but, as this regards my own nephew, I am willing to aid him -without money. I loved my sister, his mother, and she was badly treated -by that old man!" Tolomeo's eyes flashed. "He insulted her, and we--the -Tolomeo nobles--were great lords in Siena when your England was wild -forest and savage peoples." - -"Did you tell Sir Simon this when you saw him on that night?" - -The Italian started up in some alarm. "What? You say I was with this -English miser when he died?" - -"No, I don't say that. But I say you were at the house on that very -night, and about the time the murder was committed. For all I know, -signor, you may be able to say who killed him." - -Guiseppe, twisting his hat in his hands, looked keenly at Durham with -his dark eyes. "Signor, be explicit," he said. - -"I'll explain myself thoroughly," said Durham. "You can sit down again, -signor. Bernard," he continued, when the Italian obeyed this request, -"inherits his grandfather's property, and, of course the title. He wants -to help you, and proposes to give you five hundred a year as soon as -possible." - -"Ah! That is good of him," said Tolomeo, gratefully. - -"But," went on Durham, with emphasis, "Bernard cannot give you this -income until he is formally put in possession of the estate; and he -cannot take possession of the estate until he is cleared from this -charge of murder. Now you can help me to clear him." - -"Signor," said the Italian at once, "I thought Bernard was dead; that, -as the papers said, he had been drowned crossing the river. But now that -I know he is alive, you can command my services without money. All the -same," added Tolomeo, smiling and showing his white teeth, "a little -five hundred a year will make me a great lord in Siena, to which town I -shall return." - -"After helping Bernard?" warned Durham. - -"Of course. I will not leave the country till Bernard is seated in his -proper place, and married--I understand he is to be married." - -"I believe so. But he must first be able to face his fellow-men in -safety," said the lawyer, quickly. "Now, signor, you admit that you were -at the house in Crimea Square on that night." - -"Yes, why not? I went to see Sir Simon. I walked to the Hall in Essex to -see him. He had gone to town; I found out where, and I came back to see -him. On that night I went some time before ten o'clock." - -"I know that," said Durham. "Mrs. Gilroy admitted you. She says she took -you up to Sir Simon, and that you quarrelled with him." - -"It is true, we had words." - -"And then you left the house without seeing her. Behind you, according -to Mrs. Gilroy, you left the dead body of Sir Simon." - -Tolomeo started up as though about to run away, but immediately -afterwards sat down. "I don't suppose you have called me here to make an -arrest, signor," he said. "I am innocent, but I admit that I thought -there might be trouble should it be known I was in that house on the -night. I therefore kept silent. But now I know that my nephew is alive -and accused of the crime, I will speak out. It was Mrs. Gilroy who -admitted me, but it was not Mrs. Gilroy who let me out. I left Sir Simon -perfectly well when we parted, and he promised to help me the next day." - -"Oh! And the next day you heard of his death?" - -"No, I heard of his death on that night. I was hanging about the house -when Bernard escaped. I picked up--but I will tell you that later, -signor, listen to my tale--it is strange but true. Set down what I say, -for this I am prepared to swear to in a court of law. I should have seen -you before and spoken had I known that Bernard was alive, but thinking -he was dead I did not talk as I fancied there might be danger to me." - -"There is danger if what Mrs. Gilroy declares is true." - -"Confront her with me. What does she say?" - -"I do not know where she is," confessed Durham, and related how the -diary had been found, and explained the contents so far as they bore on -the accusation of Tolomeo. He listened attentively. - -"Oh, what a wicked woman!" he said vehemently when Durham ended. "I do -assure you, signor, that I am innocent. Listen! I called to see Sir -Simon before ten on that night. I sent up my name. The woman you speak -of brought back a message that her master would see me." - -"One moment," put in Durham. "Did you see a red light in the window?" - -"Yes. There was a lamp near the window although the room was lighted -with electric lamps. A red handkerchief was stretched across the window. -But I know of the Red Window at the Hall," said the Italian, with a -shrug. "My sister used to signal to me. I guessed that Sir Simon was -making a signal to Bernard." - -"Are you sure of that?" - -"He told me so himself," said Tolomeo, quietly, "and it was because he -thought I might know where Bernard was that he saw me. He said he would -forgive Bernard and help me. We had some words, as he called me--a -Tolomeo--names which I could not hear quietly. But afterwards he said he -would help me, and then he wanted to see Bernard. Miss Randolph told him -of the use she had made of the Red Window, so in this London house he -did the same thing, hoping that Bernard might see the light and enter. -If Bernard had," said the Italian, with great earnestness, "all would -have been well." - -"Do you know if Sir Simon sent a boy to bring Bernard?" - -"No. I do not know. Sir Simon said nothing of that. He only put the lamp -behind the handkerchief in the hope that Bernard might come to the -house. For all he knew Bernard might have learned where he was staying. -I think the old man was sorry he quarrelled with my poor nephew," said -Tolomeo, with earnestness. - -"Well, after arranging this you left Sir Simon?" - -"Not immediately. Mrs. Gilroy came in and said that someone wanted to -see Sir Simon. He heard her whisper to him, and said I could go away, -telling Mrs. Gilroy to send up the stranger. She went away. I followed, -and opened the door myself." - -"The front door?" - -"Yes. But when I was going out I heard Sir Simon call over the stairs. -He asked me to return. I closed the door and did so." - -"Ah!" said Durham, making a note. "Mrs. Gilroy thought you had left the -house. She said so in her diary. Then she came upstairs?" - -"No," said Tolomeo, "she did not. I went back to the room. Sir Simon -said he wanted me to be present, as he had a disagreeable interview. He -made me hide behind a curtain. I did so. Then the door opened and -Bernard entered." - -"What!" Durham started from his seat. "That's impossible." - -"Of course it is," rejoined the Italian, smiling; "but I assure you, -signor, the man who entered I took to be Bernard. He was----" - -"Michael, the son of Mrs. Gilroy. I know that." - -"Ah! And how?" asked Tolomeo, surprised and rather vexed. "I hoped to -astonish you by this." - -"Well, it's a long story. I'll tell it after you tell me yours. Michael -entered dressed as a soldier." - -"Yes," said Tolomeo, more and more surprised by the extent of the -lawyer's knowledge. "I thought he was my nephew until I heard his -conversation. Then I knew that this was Mrs. Gilroy's son and that she -had been deceived by Walter Gore in a false marriage. Sir Simon told -Michael that he was tired of assisting him, and accused him of making -love to the housemaid. The boy--he is but a boy, signor--acknowledged -this. Then Sir Simon said that Michael had forged his name for one -thousand pounds." - -Durham started up again. "What! Ah!" he said. "So that was a forgery, -and I thought Sir Simon gave him the check. It was honored." - -"Yes. Sir Simon said he knew it was a forgery, for the bank sent the -check to him. But he said nothing about it so as to spare this Michael. -But he said also that if Michael did not leave the country he would -prosecute him. Michael retorted and there was a quarrel. I thought he -would have struck the old man, so I came out. When Michael saw me he -grew pale and, opening the door, ran downstairs and out into the fog. I -followed to bring him back, as Sir Simon said, 'Follow him.'" - -"Why did Michael run away?" - -"I do not know. But he did. I went into the fog and followed him to the -High Street. Then I lost him. As I turned out of the square I brushed -past a man. It was under a lamp-post and I saw his face. He was in -evening dress and was walking quickly. He entered the house by the door -I had left open." - -"And who was that?" asked Durham, curiously. - -"Julius Beryl." - -"Impossible! He was at the theatre." - -"He was; but he came back," said Tolomeo, putting his hand in his -pocket. "Listen. I ran up to the High Street, but could see nothing of -Michael. I walked about for long. Then I came back before eleven. I -found the door open, I saw Bernard in the hall, and heard that he was -accused. I thought he was Michael returned. He escaped. I was by the -railings on the opposite side of the street. As he ran he dropped a -handkerchief. See!" Tolomeo produced it. "It is marked 'J. B.'" - -Durham snatched the handkerchief. A faint smell of chloroform lingered -about it still. Beryl's initials were in the corner. Durham looked up -very pale. - -"Yes," said Tolomeo, "that man killed Sir Simon." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS - - -On hearing from Tolomeo that Beryl was the guilty person, Durham was not -so surprised as he might have been. He had always suspected that Julius -was in some way connected with the crime, although he had not thought -him personally guilty. But the story of Guiseppe, and the production of -the handkerchief marked with Beryl's name seemed to put the matter -beyond doubt. Durham remembered how Conniston had always said that when -the lost handkerchief was found the assassin would be identified. -Apparently his prophecy had come true. Here was the handkerchief, so -fortunately picked up by Tolomeo, and it belonged to Julius. Also -Julius, according to the Italian, had entered the house in Crimea Square -about the time the murder was supposed to have been committed. - -"And there's no doubt that Beryl sent Jerry for Bernard, so that he -might be brought to the spot for accusation," thought the lawyer when -Tolomeo had gone. "The whole thing was a plant. I expect he arranged to -go to the Curtain Theatre so as to have an _alibi_. But the theatre is -near Crimea Square and it would be easy for Beryl to slip round between -the acts. Humph! Evidently he did kill the old man--this handkerchief is -proof enough, to say nothing of Tolomeo's evidence. What's to be done -next?" - -The question was answered next day while Durham was still puzzling over -the matter. Julius himself made his appearance, as meek-looking and mild -as ever. The lawyer received him coldly and was on his guard. It was -difficult to know why Beryl should pay a visit to an avowed enemy. But -Julius soon explained the reason for his call. - -"I have something extremely private to say to you, Mr. Durham," he -remarked in a confidential way, and after assuring himself -ostentatiously that the door was closed. - -"I am not your legal adviser," said Durham, quickly. - -"You are Bernard's." - -"I _was_ Bernard's, you mean." - -"Does that intimate that you have quarrelled with Bernard?" - -"You forget," said the solicitor, looking at him sharply. "Bernard is -supposed to be dead." - -"I don't think you ever believed that," said Beryl, smiling. - -"That has nothing to do with you." - -"Oh yes, it has. See here, Durham, I wrote to Miss Malleson some time -ago, stating that I had seen Bernard in London." - -"So I understand," said Durham, calmly. "Why did you not stop him?" - -"I was not quick enough. He walked on the other side of the street, and -before I could cross over, which was difficult on account of the -traffic, Bernard disappeared. Then I was not quite sure if he really was -alive. Now I am." - -"Indeed?" said Durham, with a qualm, for he fancied Julius might have -learned of Gore's whereabouts. - -"Yes! That young Moon wrote a letter to me saying that Bernard had come -to the Bower, starving and in rags." - -It was on the tip of Durham's tongue to say that no doubt Jerry had been -placed as a spy at the Bower, but he suppressed this remark. He firmly -believed that Julius was a murderer, but as yet he saw some difficulty -in bringing the crime home to him. He thought it would be best to give -the man rope enough to hang himself. In other words, to listen quietly -to what he had to say and act accordingly. Durham did not like having -anything to do with such a scoundrel, but in the interests of Gore he -had to smother all feelings save strictly professional ones. He -therefore confined himself to silence, and to looking inquiringly at -Beryl. - -"You don't seem surprised," said Julius, annoyed. - -"Because I can hardy believe your statement. Jerry may be making a -mistake." - -"Oh no. I went down on the receipt of his letter, and insisted on seeing -my cousin. Miss Plantagenet--as I knew she would,--denied that he was -there; but afterwards, when I threatened to bring the police on to the -scene, she gave way and let me see Bernard." - -"You are sure, then, that Bernard committed the crime?" - -"Wait one moment, Mr. Durham," said Beryl, wagging his finger in a most -irritating way. "Let us understand one another clearly. You know, and -you have known for some time, that Bernard was at the Bower?" - -"I am not bound to answer that question," said the lawyer, stiffly. - -"Bernard answered it for you. He told me you had been to see him, and -that in spite of the change in his looks you knew who he was." - -Durham drew figures on his blotting-paper. He wondered if Julius really -believed the man at the Bower to be Bernard Gore, or if he was trying to -learn what he--Durham--thought himself. After some reflection the lawyer -resolved to accept Michael as the man in question. Julius could not -possibly know that the real Bernard was alive, and therefore it would be -as wise to keep the knowledge from him until such time as light would -come to show Durham how to move. "Yes," he said at length, throwing down -his pen and taking up a position on the hearth-rug. "I was informed by -Miss Plantagenet that Bernard had sought refuge with her, and I went -down to see him." - -"Why did you not tell me?" asked Julius, sharply. - -Durham shrugged his shoulders. "By your own showing, seeing you wished -to call in the police, you are not a friend to Bernard," he said. "Why -should I have summoned you? To assist you to arrest him?" - -"I do not wish him to be arrested," said Julius, mildly. "On the -contrary, I wish the poor fellow to die in peace." - -"To die--what do you mean?" - -"What I say, Mr. Durham. Payne tells me that Bernard has been so -exhausted by his wandering when in hiding, that he cannot recover. His -death is only a question of days. Mind you"--Julius wagged his finger -again--"I really believe he killed Sir Simon, but as he is dying, why, I -shall do nothing. I am not a vindictive man. Besides," added Julius, -looking sideways at the lawyer, "Bernard and I are friends now. I am -also friendly with Miss Malleson." - -"Indeed! And how did you bring that about?" - -"By acting straightforward and honorably, as I always do," said the meek -Julius. "Miss Malleson acknowledged to me that Bernard was sadly changed -by the hardships he had undergone. All the same she recognized him. -Unfortunately, the poor fellow is too feeble to tell her of the perils -he underwent, so she has not had an opportunity of talking much to him." - -It struck Durham from this speech that Julius was doubtful of the -identity of Bernard with the man at the Bower. Else why should he make -this remark about Alice not having had time to question the sick man, -seeing that Alice alone could prove if he were Bernard or not? Durham -was perplexed, and wondered what Julius was driving at, and how much he -knew. A clue came with the next words. - -"And being friends with Bernard," went on Beryl, "he is sorry that we -quarrelled. Feeling that he is not long for this world he wants to make -his will in my favor." - -Durham nearly uttered an exclamation, for all of a sudden the whole -rascally business became clear. Julius knew that the man at the Bower -was Michael, and he was prepared to extract from him a forged will, in -the hope that the real Bernard was dead. Having made use of Michael to -bring about the accusation of Gore, he now used him to the very last to -get the money. However, Durham kept his temper under, and pretended to -believe that Julius was speaking in all good faith. He simply bowed his -head. Every word that Julius said was weaving a rope for his own neck. - -"Are you surprised then at my calling?" said Julius, anxiously. - -"No," said Durham, returning to his seat. "If Gore wishes to make a -will, I suppose I am the man to draw it up. I must go down and receive -his instructions." - -"I have them with me," said Julius, bringing out a sealed letter. - -Durham, inwardly boiling at this rascality, but outwardly calm, opened -the letter, while Julius kept a sharp look-out on him. He found a long -letter, written in the same style as Bernard Gore usually wrote, setting -forth directions for the will. These included an income of five hundred -a year to Alice Malleson, and the extra allowance of four hundred to -Mrs. Gilroy, making her income five hundred in all. The rest of the -estate, real and personal, went to Julius Beryl. Durham smiled inwardly -as he read this document. It was exactly the kind of will Julius wanted. -Michael was simply his instrument, and Durham shrewdly suspected that -from some knowledge of the forged check Beryl had obtained this -extraordinary influence. - -"Well, it seems clear enough," said the lawyer, laying down the letter, -"but I think Miss Malleson, seeing what she loses, should have more." - -"I think she has quite enough," said Julius, tartly. - -"Then Mrs. Gilroy," said Durham, pretending ignorance. "Why should -Bernard leave her this extra money?" - -"I can't say. Bernard will probably tell you himself. Will you please -draw out the will, Mr. Durham, and bring it down to the Bower for Gore -to sign?" - -For the sake of appearances Durham went on making objections. All these -were met by Julius with infernal cleverness, until the lawyer--on the -face of it--had not a leg to stand on, as the saying goes. Finally he -consented to draw up the will as instructed by the letter, and agreed to -meet Julius next day at Liverpool Street Station to go down with him to -the Hall. Julius drew a long breath of relief when the lawyer so agreed, -and apparently had no idea that he was being tricked all the time. - -"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Durham," said he, holding out his hand, -"and when I come into possession of the estate you will find me a good -client." - -Durham, for the sake of keeping up the deception, had to shake hands, -although he loathed himself for doing so. When the door closed on the -arch plotter the solicitor went at once to wash his hands. - -"What a complete scoundrel!" said Durham to himself. "And how -confoundedly clever. Of course, if the real Bernard were dead this will -might stand. At all events, even if Miss Malleson could prove that -Michael is not her lover, the new will might lead to litigation. -However, as Bernard is alive and well we can produce him at the eleventh -hour to frighten Beryl. I am afraid that young man will be hanged after -all, though I am unwilling, for the sake of the family, that things -should come to that pass." - -However, Durham, true to his appointment, arrived at the station the -next day and had the will in his pocket. Julius read it in the train -going down and expressed his approval of it. It was now Durham's cue to -behave politely to Julius, and as though he truly believed in him and in -the false Bernard Gore. But on the previous night he had written a long -letter to Miss Berengaria, which was to be read to Alice. In it Durham -told the whole of Beryl's scheme to get possession of the property. But -for obvious reasons he said nothing of Tolomeo's story or Beryl's real -guilt. He thought, very truly, that even Miss Berengaria's nerves could -not stand being brought into such close relationship with a proven -murderer, let alone that Alice might reveal the truth out of sheer -disgust. But the letter prepared the minds of both ladies for the -execution of the will. - -On arriving at the Bower the two men were met by Jerry, looking more -innocent and child-like than ever. "Please, missus says will you go into -the drawing-room?" said the infant, casting down his eyes. - -Durham looked hard at the young scoundrel who was such a worthy -instrument of Beryl's. He would have liked to examine him then and there -touching his luring of Bernard to Crimea Square, but the present moment -was not propitious, so he passed on. Julius, however, in a most -benevolent way spoke to the boy--"I hope you are giving your good -mistress satisfaction?" - -"Oh yes, sir. But she was angry at me writing and telling you about the -poor sick gentleman." - -"By the way, Jerry, how did you find out about him?" asked Durham. - -"I saw him arrive," said Jerry, ingenuously. "I was in the garden when -he came. I wouldn't have written, sir, if I had known that my dear -missus wanted it kept dark. But Mr. Beryl was so anxious about Sir -Bernard that I thought he would be glad to know he was alive." - -"How did you know this gentleman was Sir Bernard?" - -"I heard James the coachman describe him, and then I knew." - -"All the same, Jerry," said Julius, benevolently, "if Miss Berengaria -wished the fact of Sir Bernard's being here kept quiet, you should not -have disclosed it even to me." - -"But I wished to set your mind at rest," murmured Jerry, looking up with -dove-like eyes. "I owe you so much, sir." - -Julius smiled and patting his head, walked on to the drawing-room. It -was a very pretty comedy, but Durham was not to be taken in. He knew -well enough that the boy was a mere tool and a dangerous one. As a -matter of fact, he did not know until later how dangerous the lad really -could be. - -Miss Berengaria and Alice were in the drawing-room, and both smiled a -welcome when the two men entered. Alice darted a look of terror and -repulsion at Beryl, but as he was shaking hands with the old lady he did -not see it, else he might have suspected. Durham guessed this and -touched her hand. She nodded, and when Julius shook hands with her she -welcomed him again with a smile, although her very flesh crept when she -touched him. As for Miss Berengaria, that indomitable old lady never -turned a hair. She smiled and chatted, and was bland to Julius. He might -have been her dearest friend from the amount of attention she bestowed -on him. - -"So poor Bernard is going to make his will," she said briskly. "I hope -he has left Alice something." - -"Five hundred a year, and the like amount to Mrs. Gilroy." - -"Indeed, Mr. Durham; and why to Mrs. Gilroy?" - -"Bernard looks upon her as a second mother," said Julius, hastily; "at -least he told me so. Of course, I know nothing about her. I hope, -however, she will reappear to claim her legacy." - -"There may be no chance for anyone to claim legacies for a long time," -said Miss Berengaria, tartly. "I hope Bernard will not die." - -"I hope so also," said Alice, fervently; and she really meant it, even -though she was thinking of the young scamp upstairs. - -Julius shook his head. "Dr. Payne assures me he cannot live. I am glad -he has decided to make this will." - -"Yes, you would be," said Miss Berengaria ironically, and she might have -been rash enough to say more, but that Durham intervened. - -"I hope none of the servants know that Bernard is here?" - -"They all know by this time," said Miss Berengaria, calmly. "We kept the -matter from them as long as possible; and with Alice I waited on Bernard -myself. But Jerry told the servants as well as Mr. Beryl." - -"Will the knowledge go any further?" said the lawyer, keeping up the -comedy. "I don't want Bernard arrested." - -"My servants will not speak under pain of dismissal, if that is what you -mean," said Miss Plantagenet, sharply. "As to Jerry----" - -"He is one of your servants also," said Beryl, softly; "but I have some -influence over Jerry, and I will see that he holds his tongue." - -"You can take him away altogether," snapped Miss Berengaria. "I don't -approve of having boys with long tongues in my house. Jerry had no right -to be hanging round the garden when Bernard arrived, much less to write -and tell you that he was here." - -"He thought I was anxious." - -"I daresay you are," said the old dame, "to see Bernard hanged." - -"Indeed, no," replied Julius, earnestly. "I wish him to die in peace." - -"Having got all you can out of him," muttered Miss Berengaria, rubbing -her nose. "Well," she added sharply, "are we to go upstairs and witness -this will?" - -"Yes! Mr. Beryl can't witness as he is the residuary legatee. Nor can -Miss Alice, since she is mentioned in the will. But you, Miss -Plantagenet, and----" - -"And yourself?" - -"No. I am the executor." - -"Then Maria can witness the will. She is my own maid and can be depended -upon. Are you coming, Julius?" - -"Thank you, no," said Beryl, with a gentle smile. "I think as I have -such a large interest in the will that it is better I should remain -away. I shall stay here. And you, Miss Malleson?" - -"I shall stop also," said Alice in reply to a look from Durham. "You go -up with Mr. Durham, aunt." - -"Come along then," said Miss Berengaria, hastening out of the room; "the -sooner this is over the better. Ugh! I hate wills. They put me in mind -of the family vault, and I can't last long now." - -The lawyer followed, and Miss Berengaria led him up a narrow stair which -conducted to the turret-room in which the false Bernard was lying. At -the foot of this stair she stopped. "Durham," she said abruptly, "do you -mean to let this man execute this false will?" - -"Yes. I wish Julius Beryl to commit himself beyond recall." - -"What will you do then?" - -"I can't say. One thing at a time. When the will is executed we will -watch Beryl's attitude. Something will happen," added Durham, thinking -of the incriminating handkerchief in his possession. - -"Yes," said Miss Berengaria, climbing the stairs with a briskness -surprising in a woman of her years, "something will happen. This poor -foresworn wretch upstairs will die." - -"But I thought you said----" - -"I know I did. I could help him back to life with careful nursing, and I -wish to do so, since I think there is good in the rascal. But Beryl, -having had the will made, will--kill him. Yes," added she, nodding, -"there will be a repetition of the crime. I believe Beryl himself killed -Simon--the old--no, he is dead. Let us be just." - -"What makes you think Julius Beryl killed Sir Simon?" - -"Nothing," snapped Miss Berengaria; "he looks like a murderer." Durham -smiled to himself as he went up the stairs and wondered at her acuteness -in thus hitting the nail on the head. When the will was executed Julius -certainly might attempt to get rid of the instrument he had used, as he -had rid himself of Sir Simon, but in the house of Miss Berengaria this -would be a more difficult matter. "And if he tries anything of that sort -on," thought Durham, "I'll have him arrested at once for the first -murder. Meantime, let us see how far he will proceed with the plot." - -The young man lying in bed was very weak. His face was thin and pale and -his scrubby beard was now longer. He looked haggard and anxious, and -started up when the door opened. "It is only Mr. Durham and I, Bernard," -said Miss Berengaria in a soft voice. "We have come about the will." - -Michael raised himself on his elbow. "Have you got it?" he asked. - -"Yes," said Durham, producing the document. "Miss Plantagenet, will you -please call up your maid to witness it?" - -While the old lady rang the bell and Michael read the will, the lawyer -looked closely at the invalid. He was wonderfully like Bernard, and but -that Durham knew that the real Gore was in another place he might have -been deceived. Michael was clever enough to feign illness as an excuse -for talking little, as he evidently dreaded to say much lest Alice or -Durham should question his identity. The whole deception was cleverly -carried out. Michael even attempted to account for any difference in his -signature. - -"I feel so weak I can't write as firmly as I used to," he said, when the -maid entered the room. "So you must not be surprised if my signature is -unlike my usual one." - -"If it is as good as the writing in your letter, I shan't complain," -said Durham, wheeling a small table near to the bed. - -Michael looked at him sharply, and seemed relieved by this remark. He -evidently thought that all was well and safe, and heard Durham read the -will with closed eyes. Then, raising himself on his elbow, he signed his -name with apparent difficulty. It was wonderfully like the signature of -Bernard. Miss Plantagenet and Maria appended their signatures as -witnesses. Then Durham put the will into an envelope and prepared to go -down. Michael stopped him. - -"Mark," he said, using the name Bernard usually called the lawyer by, -"don't you think I am looking better?" - -"I think you are very ill," said Durham, gently. - -"But you don't think I'll die?" - -"I hope not. With nursing you may get better." - -Michael's face assumed an expression of terror. "I won't die," he -moaned, sinking back. "I want to get well and enjoy myself." - -"Hush! hush!" said Miss Berengaria, folding the clothes round him, "no -more of this unhealthy talk. You will get well." - -With Durham they left the room while Maria remained to attend on the -patient. "Well," said Durham, in a low voice, "you see he expects to get -well, now that he has signed the will. I daresay he will disappear. The -body of Bernard will be found, and Michael will share the estate with -Beryl." - -"I don't think so," said Miss Plantagenet, grimly. "Beryl will now -murder this poor reptile, and take all the money to himself." - -"I fear his expectations will be disappointed," said the lawyer, dryly. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - A CONFESSION - - -At the request of Miss Berengaria, Durham stopped to dinner; but not -even the necessity of keeping Julius in a fool's paradise could make the -old lady extend the invitation to him. Beryl did not mind. He knew -perfectly well that he was no favorite with Miss Plantagenet, and often -wondered why she was so polite to him. A scoundrel himself, Julius was -always suspicious of others, and constantly strove to learn why Miss -Berengaria, whose honest character he knew, displayed such courtesy -towards him. Then he thought it was because Bernard being in her house -she was afraid lest he should be arrested through the instrumentality of -his cousin should not tact be shown. Julius departed quite satisfied in -his own mind that he had solved the problem of Miss Plantagenet's -behavior. Had he known the real reason he would not have gone away so -complacently. - -Before departing, Julius saw Jerry and told him--amongst other -things--that he would have to leave Miss Plantagenet because of his -having meddled with matters which did not concern him. During the -interview Miss Berengaria came along and the matter was explained to -her. She refused to allow Beryl to interfere. - -"Mind your own precious business, young man," she said. "I am quite able -to look after the boy myself." - -"But he has behaved badly," urged Julius, meekly. - -"So he has, and I'd give him a good whipping. However, I am not going to -dismiss him for this. Jerry, go to the kitchen and mind your P's and -Q's, or I'll know the reason why. And now, Mr. Beryl"--the old lady -dropped a grim curtsey--"good-bye." - -Julius departed smiling and in no wise offended at the grimness of Miss -Berengaria. "I'll soon be able to do without the lot of them," he -thought, as he walked to the railway station, "once the estate is in my -possession, and I'll keep away from this place. Lucy will have to turn -out of the Hall, as I won't have her stopping, after the way in which -she has treated me. I believe she is in love with that bounder of a -Conniston. However," he added enigmatically, "I know my own knowing." - -He did not know Durham's, however, and would have been considerably -agitated had he learned what that gentleman said to the two ladies after -his departure. Not only to them but to Lord Conniston himself. That -young gentleman arrived with Lucy shortly before dinner. Lucy had come -over to the meal, and Conniston, on his way back to Bernard at the -castle, thought he would drop in. Of course, as the astute lover -intended, he was asked to dinner. - -The meal passed off excellently, as everyone was in good spirits. The -lawyer had hinted that Bernard would soon be free, and promised to tell -the company all that he had discovered after dinner. When the meal was -ended they all went back to the drawing-room and sat round the -solicitor, who commenced his recital. Prior to starting, Miss Berengaria -went up to see Michael, and returned stating that he was much better. "I -believe he will get well," she said. - -"Of course," observed the lawyer, ironically, "the comedy is nearly at -an end. The will has been signed. Now Michael will disappear to allow -Beryl to get the estates." - -"He will have to supply a corpse then," said Conniston, coolly. - -"Oh, I daresay he will," rejoined Durham, shrugging. "After the -disappearance of Michael I know exactly what will happen. A body much -decomposed will be found in the Thames, and will be recognized by Julius -as that of Bernard's. Any corpse will do, so long as the face cannot be -recognized." - -"Drat the man!" said Miss Berengaria, emphatically. "You can't get a -corpse without murdering someone, and I should think that Beryl creature -has had enough of that sort of work." - -"Oh, but Julius did not kill Sir Simon," said Lucy, with dismay. "He was -at the theatre with me and Mrs. Webber." - -"So I believe," said Durham, dryly; "but tell me, Miss Randolph, did he -leave you at all during the play?" - -"Not till the last act," said Lucy. "Then he went to get something to -drink, and returned before the end of the play to take us away." - -"How long was he absent?" - -"Nearly half an hour. He said he had met a friend and had been talking -to him." - -"Ah! Very clever of him. Well," said Durham, looking round, "I have -something to tell you all. We are friends of Bernard's, are we not?" - -"Certainly," said Miss Berengaria, sharply, "and I know what you are -going to tell us. This Beryl creature murdered Sir Simon when he was -away from the theatre." - -"Impossible!" said Lucy and Alice in one breath. - -"He could scarcely have done it in half an hour," said Conniston. - -"But he did for all that," said Durham. "Remember, the Curtain Theatre -is only ten minutes' walk from Crimea Square. Beryl could easily slip -round and strangle Sir Simon--as he did." - -"I knew it," cried Miss Berengaria, triumphantly. "Tell us all about it, -Durham. Aha! we'll see that reptile dancing on nothing." - -"Oh, aunt!" said Alice, turning pale. - -"Miss Plantagenet," remonstrated Lucy, "don't speak like that. I do not -like Julius, and broke my engagement. I think he is tricky, and has no -principles, but I don't think he would----" - -"Yes, he would," contradicted the old lady, taking a pinch of snuff. -"Bah! don't talk to me. Liar and rogue, murderer and thief are written -all over him. My dear girls, the man is a danger to society. I want to -see him hanged. He would have hanged Bernard." - -"That's true enough," said Conniston; "but for the sake of the family, I -don't want to see Julius hanged. So long as he tells the truth and lets -Bernard take his place in society I don't care." - -"He won't let Bernard take his place in society," insisted Miss -Berengaria, quietly. "I daresay I am vindictive, but that young -reptile--ugh!" She shuddered and took another pinch of snuff. - -"Are you sure he is guilty?" asked Lucy, timidly. - -"Quite sure," said Durham, gravely. "I have evidence," and he produced a -handkerchief. - -"Tell us all about it, Durham," said Miss Plantagenet, briskly. "The -sooner we learn the truth the better. I am getting very tired of this -connection with the Police Court. I have read detective novels," added -the old lady, emphatically, "and I never liked them. To have one in real -life and under my respectable roof is more than I can bear. Durham, you -have an hour before you need catch your train. Tell us all. Then you can -clear out, and you, Conniston, can go also. Lucy, I shall send Jerry -back to the Hall with you." - -"No, please not, Jerry," said Lucy. - -"He is a scamp," replied Miss Berengaria, after a pause. "Well--well, we -shall see. Meantime, freeze our blood, Durham." - -This the lawyer proceeded to amidst a dead silence. No one interrupted -him until his recital was ended. To make things clear, he narrated his -discoveries from the very beginning, and recounted his interview with -Mrs. Gilroy, with Tolomeo and with Beryl. At the end of his story -everyone looked at one another. Lucy shuddered and hid her face, -overwhelmed by the discovery of the wickedness of the man she had been -engaged to. Alice was quite pale, thinking of the nets in which Bernard -had been caught, and which were now on the eve of being broken, that he -might escape. Conniston said a word under his breath not exactly fitted -for the drawing-room, but which was overheard by Miss Berengaria and -approved by that lady. - -"Thank you, Conniston," she said, taking a pinch of snuff with relish. -"Never tell me that I am not a judge of character. I knew that scamp was -the murderer ages ago. I said so. Now"--she addressed Durham with a -suddenness which made him jump--"what's to be done?" - -"I intend to have Beryl arrested." - -"And then?" - -"I shall make Bernard give himself up. The whole case must be tried in -court. Also I shall have Michael arrested." - -"But why, if he is innocent?" - -"My dear Miss Plantagenet," said the lawyer, slowly, "Mrs. Gilroy is an -important witness in this case. She is hiding. As soon as she sees that -her son is arrested, and in danger of being condemned as an accessory -before the fact, she will come out and give evidence to show that he -acted merely as the tool of Beryl. In a word, she will save him." - -"Which is four or five words. Well, Durham, I don't say but what you are -right, and if--Good gracious, what's that?" - -This was the sudden entrance of Maria, looking pale. She hurried up to -her mistress and caught her arm. "Oh, ma'am, come to see that poor -gentleman," she said. "He is very ill--I don't know what's the matter." - -Neither Miss Berengaria nor the others were startled; it was to be -expected that Michael would have frequent lapses in his illness. - -The old lady rose at once to the occasion. "Send Jerry at once for Dr. -Payne," she said sharply. - -"Please, ma'am, Jerry has left the house." - -"Left the house! What do you mean?" - -Maria explained. "I haven't seen Jerry since six o'clock," she declared; -"he brought me up the cup of tea you ordered for the poor sick -gentleman." - -"I ordered no tea," said Miss Berengaria, with uneasiness. - -"Jerry said you did, ma'am," persisted the maid; "he brought it to me, -and said you wished the gentleman to drink it at once. He waited while -the gentleman did so, and then said he would tell you. I forgot to -mention it, ma'am, when you came up after dinner." - -Durham nodded significantly and rose. "I will go for Dr. Payne," he -said, walking to the door. "Is the gentleman ill?" - -"Very, sir. He says he has a burning pain in his stomach." - -Durham nodded again and glanced at the old lady. "You were right," he -said gravely, "there is something wrong," and he disappeared to fetch -the doctor. - -"Where is Jerry gone?" asked Miss Berengaria. - -"I don't know, ma'am. James said he went out at half-past six with his -bag, complaining you had sent him away." - -"James should have stopped him, or have told me." - -"So he says, ma'am, now." - -"When it is too late," said the angry Miss Berengaria. "Alice, come with -me. Conniston, you can wait here with Miss Randolph," and before the -couple could say a word, the old lady hurried out of the room, followed -by Alice. Both were oppressed by a sense of anxiety. - -Michael was very ill and in great pain. Sitting up in bed, he was -pressing both hands to his stomach and moaning. "Oh, give me -water--water," he entreated, when the women appeared. "I am dying of -thirst." - -While Miss Berengaria gave him drink, Alice looked into the tea-cup, -which still stood on the table beside the bed. At the bottom there was a -white sediment. "Something has been given to you in your tea," she said, -turning pale. - -"It was some time after drinking the tea that I felt ill," moaned -Michael, rocking to and fro. "Oh, how I suffer." - -"Jerry brought the tea," began Miss Plantagenet, when Michael -interrupted her with a scream. - -"Jerry! Jerry! It's Beryl's work. Jerry did anything he told him. I -believe he has poisoned me. Call him up--call him up." - -"Jerry has gone away," said Miss Berengaria, very pale. - -"Lost! Lost!" moaned Michael. "Ah, this was why he made me sign the -will--this was why--oh, heavens! how I suffer--suffer--the pain--the -pain. Help me--help me! I am poisoned!" - -Both the terrified women looked at one another, for even Miss -Berengaria, strong-minded as she was, felt her nerve give way under this -unexpected catastrophe. Then Alice advanced to the bedside, and from -sheer force of habit addressed Michael by the false name he had assumed. -"Bernard----" - -"I am not Bernard," he screamed, rocking and rocking. "I will confess -all. I am a dead man. Beryl won't give me the money now. He wants it all -to himself. He has made Jerry poison me. I am to die as Sir Simon died. -I am lost--lost--lost. Oh, what a wicked man I have been." - -"Make atonement while you can," said Miss Berengaria, taking swift -advantage of the opportunity. "Listen. We have known for some time that -you are not Bernard Gore, and----" - -Michael paid no attention, but kept on rocking in an agony of pain. -"Help me--save me!" he moaned. "Oh, great heavens!" - -"Payne will be here directly," said the old lady. "Maria"--the maid was -in the room by this time--"go down and bring up some boiling water. We -will apply hot flannels to his stomach." - -"Meanwhile," said Alice, when the maid ran out, "tell us about yourself, -Michael." - -"Michael--Michael," he muttered, with the perspiration beading his brow. -"You know my name. I thought you took me for Gore." - -"Never. Bernard Gore is alive. We pretended to believe you, so that in -the end you might be induced to confess." - -"And now you have poisoned me." - -"Certainly not," cried Miss Plantagenet, quickly. "Jerry gave you the -cup of tea." - -"He said you told him to bring it up." - -"I did not. He brought it up himself, and has now left the house. As -soon as he knew you had drunk it, he left the house. And now that I -remember," added Miss Berengaria, sharply, "Beryl was talking privately -to the boy before he went away." - -"Yes! Yes! It is Beryl who has done this. Oh, I will confess all. It was -Beryl who killed Sir Simon." - -"We know that, and--ah, here is Payne. Doctor, I am glad you have come. -Do you know----" - -"I know a great deal," said Payne. "Mr. Durham talked to me while we -drove along. He met me half-way to Hurseton. Come, we must get to work." - -He asked Alice and Durham, who had entered, to leave the room, and began -to attend to the wretched man. Maria came up with hot water and then -hurried down for oil and mustard. Payne took up the cup which Miss -Berengaria pointed out and examined it. He touched the sediment with the -tip of his finger and tasted it. "Arsenic," said he. - -"Good Lord!" cried the old lady, sitting down heavily, "and in my own -house. Doctor, that boy must be arrested. Are you sure?" - -"Certain. Arsenic has been administered. That is why he feels these -burning pains. Give me the oil and mustard. We must give him an emetic, -so that he may get rid of the poison. We may save him yet." - -"You must save him!" cried Miss Berengaria, lending a hand readily, "for -his evidence is needed to convict Beryl of murder." - -"Mr. Durham told me something of this, but not all," said Payne, going -on with the business. "Go down and leave the man to me for a time, Miss -Berengaria. I will call you when he is better." - -By this time Michael was almost insensible with pain, but Miss -Plantagenet left the room at once. Hurrying down to the drawing-room, -she found the four young people waiting there with scared faces. Even -Durham was startled by the expedition with which Julius had carried out -his plan of ridding himself of an undesirable witness. - -"Though he's a fool," said the lawyer, emphatically. "He should have -made Jerry wait for a few days." - -"And to use such an obvious poison," said Miss Berengaria; "it is -arsenic that has been administered." - -"Michael will confess now, though," said Alice. "I do hope he won't die. -Mr. Durham, where are you going?" - -"To the Hurseton telegraph office. The doctor's trap is at the door now. -I wish to wire to Scotland Yard, so that Jerry may be caught." - -"Don't go," implored Alice, "at any time Michael may be able to speak, -and I wish you to write down his confession." - -"I will go," said Conniston, jumping up. "Write down the wire, Durham. -The sooner Jerry is tracked the better. We shall catch Julius yet." - -"I only hope we'll save Michael," muttered Durham, going to Miss -Plantagenet's desk. "Come here, Conniston." - -When the wire was written--and a long one it was--Conniston made free -with Payne's trap and drove to Hurseton, where he sent it at once to -London. Meantime, those in the drawing-room talked over the matter and -waited to hear from the doctor. After an hour he made his appearance. -"He is better," he announced; "the mustard and oil made him sick. I -think he has got rid of the poison. He wants to see you, Mr. Durham." - -"I'll go at once," said the lawyer, while Alice clasped her hands. - -But Payne stopped him. "No. I want the man to have a short sleep first," -he said, "and I am returning to watch beside him. I will ring the bell -when he is better and able to speak." - -It was late that night or rather early next morning before the household -retired. Miss Berengaria, thinking the servants had better know as -little as possible, sent them to bed, retaining only Maria to wait on -her personally. Then Conniston returned, and the five sat in the -drawing-room talking. About two in the morning the bell in the turret -chamber was heard to ring. Durham, with writing materials, hastened up -at once. Alice wanted to go, but Miss Berengaria made her stop. Then she -sent Conniston to the Hall to tell any servant who was waiting up that -Miss Randolph would remain that night at the Bower. "And when you -return, you can sleep also," she said. - -Durham found Michael better but weak. He was lying back on his pillows -in an almost exhausted condition, and Payne was feeling his pulse. "I -wanted him to wait till the dawn," said the doctor, "but he insists on -speaking." - -"I might die," said Michael, his eyes large and bright and his voice -hoarse. "I want my revenge on this man who tried to poison me." - -"Are you sure Beryl----" - -"I am quite sure. Jerry brought up the tea, and arsenic was in it. I -know Beryl wanted to get all the estate to himself. Tell me"--Michael -looked anxiously towards Durham--"is Gore alive?" - -"Yes. Miss Malleson and Miss Plantagenet knew you were Michael Gilroy as -soon as you came." - -"And they fooled me." - -"They did," admitted Durham, promptly, "and I did also. I allowed you to -make that false will, so as to trap Beryl." - -"Ah! and he will be trapped and hanged," said the boy, bitterly. "I only -hope I'll be alive to see him swing." - -"Mr. Durham," said Payne, removing his finger from the patient's pulse, -"if you want to hear this confession you had better get to work at once. -I cannot allow him to talk long." - -"I'll begin," said Michael, in a stronger voice, and without further -preamble he began to talk in a slow, monotonous voice, almost without a -pause. Durham took down his words swiftly. - -"My name is Michael Gilroy," said the lad, quietly. "I am the son of -Walter Gore, the father of Bernard, and of Mrs. Gilroy, who was the -housekeeper at the Hall. My father deceived her by a false marriage, as -at the time, although my mother did not know, he was already married to -a Signora Tolomeo." - -"You are sure of that?" asked Durham. "Your mother said----" - -"I know--I know, but she is wrong. She wanted to make me out the heir. -But I am three years younger than my half-brother. It was a false -marriage. When my mother discovered the truth, she went to America with -me. My father allowed us an income. When he died, my mother was starving -with me in New York. She came to this country and saw my grandfather, -Sir Simon, in London. He heard her story and was sorry for her. Then he -offered her the post of housekeeper at the Hall, and promised to provide -for her after his death. But he would only assist her on condition that -I was sent back to the States. I returned, and my mother kept me out of -her wages. She has been a good mother to me----" - -"Take this," said Payne, holding wine to his lips, for his voice was -growing weaker. - -Michael drank, and continued at once. "My mother had an idea of making -me the heir. But, as I told her, that was impossible. She had told Sir -Simon too much at first. I remained in the States till I was over -twenty, then I came to England. Sir Simon got me a post in the city. I -did not like the work, and I idled. He often assisted me. I behaved very -badly." - -"I know that," said Durham, pausing in his writing. "You forged a check -made payable to Bernard Gore." - -Michael laughed weakly. "I did," he said. "I wanted money and I got a -thousand pounds by that." - -"How is it that you are so poor?" - -"Because Beryl took the money from me. He wanted money also, and he -threatened to have me arrested for the murder if I did not give him all. -I spent very little of it. He took all, and then left me to starve. I -came here, and----" - -"Wait a bit; I want to know about your impersonation of Gore?" - -"That was Beryl's idea also. He met me in the city, as Sir Simon one day -sent him to pay me money. He was struck by my likeness to my -half-brother, and even then he resolved to make use of me. But there was -no chance until Bernard quarrelled with Sir Simon. Then Beryl found that -Gore had enlisted in the Imperial Yeomanry. He told me that Sir Simon -was coming to town to live in Crimea Square, and he was afraid lest he -should become reconciled to Bernard. Beryl, knowing how proud Sir Simon -was, persuaded me to impersonate Bernard by dressing up as an Imperial -Yeoman, and arranged that I should make love to a housemaid----" - -"So as to get into the house?" - -"Yes; and so as to let the fact get to Sir Simon's ears. Beryl thought -that if Sir Simon knew that Bernard was making love to a servant, he -would cast him off for ever. Well, I did make the acquaintance of the -housemaid and visited at the house, keeping well out of sight of my -mother." - -"She did not know you were there?" - -"No. Whenever she was heard coming I got out of the way. She really -thought from Jane's description that I was my half-brother." - -"When did you forge the check?" - -"Just before I met Jane at the beginning of October. Beryl and I both -wanted the money. I could imitate Bernard's writing, as Beryl got me -some letters of his. I forged the check and got the money. Then Beryl -afterwards took it from me." - -"And did Sir Simon know of the forgery?" said Durham, thinking of what -had been said to him by Tolomeo. - -"I am coming to that," went on Michael, after another drink of wine. "I -visited at the house as I said, and Sir Simon came to know that--as he -thought--Bernard was about the place. He sent down on the evening of the -committal of the crime to ask me up. I was afraid, and I ran away." - -"Why did you return before ten?" - -"Ah, you know that, do you?" said Michael, with a weak smile. "I -returned because it struck me that there might be some difficulty about -the check, and I thought I would see Sir Simon about it myself. I -fancied he might have me arrested. On the other hand, I thought he might -truly think it was Bernard, and then that would assist Beryl's plans for -keeping him out of the property. I came to the house just after ten. My -mother opened the door. When she saw me, she ordered me away. I refused -to go." - -"Why was that?" - -Michael hesitated for a moment. "I have not told you my real reason for -coming," he said at length. "It was Beryl's plan. He arranged to go to -the theatre, and that I should come to the house at that time. I saw him -between six and eight. He told me that he would send Jerry to lure -Bernard to the Crimea Square house----" - -"How did he know where Bernard was?" - -"He kept a watch on Bernard through Jerry. It was arranged that I should -see Sir Simon and make things safe for myself about the check should -there be any trouble. I thought that was Beryl's plan at the time," said -Michael, restlessly, "but now I see that he intended murder. I was to go -as Bernard, and when I left, the old man was to be killed. Then Bernard, -brought by Jerry, would be on the spot and would be arrested." - -"And that is exactly what happened." - -"I know. But I swear I did not know it at the time," said Michael, -earnestly. "I really believed all was safe. Had I guessed that Beryl -intended murder, I should not have gone to see Sir Simon. But I did go. -He knew about the check and threatened to have me arrested. There was an -Italian hidden in the room. Sir Simon called him, and when I saw him I -ran away." - -"Why did you do that?" - -"I thought he was a detective, and that Sir Simon intended to arrest me -at once. I ran away and went home. That is all I know." - -Durham was disappointed. "But you surely know who killed----" - -"No," interrupted Michael. "I suspected Beryl. I think he killed him, -but I am not sure. Next day, when the murder was proclaimed, and it was -said Bernard was drowned, Beryl came to me, and told me to lie quiet in -case I should be arrested for the crime. He then took all my money by -threatening to have me arrested as the murderer." - -"But if you had told this story, and used Tolomeo as a witness----" - -"Tolomeo? who is he? I know no one of that name." - -"He was the man you took for a detective." - -"Well, then, not knowing who he really was, how could I have cleared -myself? Beryl could have accused me." - -"Tolomeo could have cleared you. He was with Sir Simon when you left, -and Sir Simon was alive. What happened then?" - -"I lay quiet. Then I grew afraid, and hid myself in different places. -Beryl found me out, and persuaded me to come here to personate Bernard, -and make a will. He promised me that I should get half the money. I -intended to vanish when I made the will, and then Beryl arranged to get -the money somehow----" - -"But how did you expect to deceive Miss Malleson?" - -"I didn't. I intended to tell her the truth, as I was weary of Beryl's -tricks. But when I saw that she and Miss Plantagenet took me for -Bernard, I resolved to carry on the plot. Then Beryl came and the will -was signed. You know the rest." - -Michael's voice had been growing weaker and weaker. Finally his eyes -closed, and he laid his head back on the pillow. "He has fainted again," -said Payne. "You must wait till he recovers for the signature." - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - YOUNG JUDAS - - -The next morning Michael was pronounced to be out of danger by Dr. -Payne, and appended his signature to the confession. He still held to -his indignant attitude against Beryl, and was most anxious that he -should be arrested. So far as he knew, Beryl was innocent of the crime; -but Durham knew better. Having the evidence of Tolomeo and possession of -the fatal handkerchief, he was perfectly content to believe that Julius -was guilty. Since he was one of the Gore family, it was a grave question -as to whether he should be arrested. But seeing that Bernard's character -could not be cleared until the whole truth came out, and the wrongdoer -suffered for his wickedness, it was agreed that a warrant should be -obtained for the guilty person. This business was entrusted to Durham, -and he departed for town by the mid-day train. - -"And you can ride over to the castle, Conniston," he said to that young -gentleman, who accompanied him to the station, "and tell Bernard to hold -himself in readiness to come to London." - -"Will he be arrested?" - -"I fancy so. But I can't yet be sure. At all events, Beryl will be -accused and taken in charge, so Bernard will soon be set free." - -"What about Jerry?" - -"I will go to Scotland Yard as soon as I arrive, and see if anything has -been heard of the young scamp. However, if we get Beryl, we may be able -to do without Jerry." - -"Do you intend to have Michael arrested?" - -"Yes," said Durham, calmly, "as an accessory before the fact. I can't -say if he is innocent or guilty." - -"But, Durham, you heard him declare that he was unaware that Beryl -intended to kill Sir Simon. Michael only called to see about the check." - -"I doubt that part of his confession," replied the lawyer, dryly. "It -appears to me that Michael would have kept out of the way had he -entertained the slightest idea that Sir Simon--as he did--guessed that -the check was forged. Besides, I want to have a mention of Michael -Gilroy's arrest put in the papers, so that his mother may be withdrawn -from her hiding-place." - -"Do you think she will come?" - -"I am certain. She alone knows what took place when Beryl entered the -house and how he strangled the old man. I am convinced that to save her -son she will denounce Julius, no matter what offer he has made to her -about holding her tongue. Here's the train. Good-bye, Conniston, and -bring Bernard up to town when I send a wire." - -The train steamed off, and Conniston was left standing on the platform. -"I do hope all this business will soon be at an end," he said to -himself. "I am about weary of surprises." - -Already it had been arranged that Miss Berengaria should keep an eye on -Michael--who never expected to be arrested--so Conniston had no need to -return to the Bower. Mounting his horse he took his way along the -high-road to the castle, and arrived there somewhere about two o'clock. -As there was no one about the place he put up the horse himself, and -then came to the front door. Much to his surprise it was locked, but a -vigorous ringing of the bell brought Mrs. Moon to the door. That -estimable lady looked worried, and her pallid face was whiter than ever, -gleaming like the moon itself from the frilling of her cap. When she saw -her master, she lifted up her large hands. - -"Goodness be praised your lordship has come," said she, with a moan and -groan combined in a most extraordinary way. "Have you seen my wicked -Victoria, your lordship?" - -"No. Has she gone away?" - -"Last night," said Mrs. Moon, drifting into the hall. "Bless your -lordship dear, she went away before ten o'clock in her best things, -saying she would be back. And not an eye have I set on her since. But -then I expect the coming of Jerry upset her." - -"Jerry!" shouted Conniston, throwing down his cap. "Did you say that -Jerry was here?" - -"Yes. He's here, your lordship, and he has sent Mr. Grant mad. As soon -as Jerry set eyes on Mr. Grant last night, when he come at nine o'clock, -he had his hair standing on end. Mr. Grant, he was amazed-like also, and -took Jerry to his room. There he have kept him locked up, and wished to -send a messenger to your dear lordship, and----" - -Conniston waited to hear no more. He tore up the stairs two at a time, -and burst red-faced and excited into Bernard's sitting-room. - -His friend had already heard his hasty footsteps, and was on his feet -staring at the door. "I'm glad you've come, Conniston," he said -breathlessly. "That boy Jerry is here, and I've locked him up in case he -should get away and tell Beryl." - -"Beryl has his hands full at present," said Conniston, grimly. "As to -Judas, he's wanted by the police." - -"The dickens! What for?" - -"For trying to poison Michael Gilroy!" - -Bernard stared. "Michael Gilroy? Where is he?" - -"At Miss Plantagenet's. It's a long story. I'll tell it to you as soon -as I can get my breath. Where's Jerry?" - -"Shut up in an empty room," said Bernard. "He came last night at nine or -thereabouts. I was outside the castle door and saw him coming. I did not -know it was him until I stepped into the hall. When Jerry saw me, his -hair rose on end, and he appeared to be frightened out of his life." - -"As he well may be," muttered Conniston. - -"I collared him, and he tried to get away. But I took him to my room and -kept him there. He refused to answer my questions unless I let him go. -Of course not being able to trust him, I declined, so I am quite in the -dark as to what he has been doing. I then shut him up in an empty room, -with a barred window, and sent Victoria in to take him some food. And -then a queer thing happened, Conniston. Victoria took him in the food, -and was with Jerry for about ten minutes. When she came out she went -downstairs and dressed herself in her best. Then she left the castle, -and has not been heard of since. I am afraid she has gone to tell Beryl -where I am," concluded Bernard, gloomily. "And I may be arrested to-day. -I should have looked after Victoria, but I never knew that Jerry would -act so promptly. He is a perfect imp for cleverness." - -"Don't you trouble your head about being arrested," said Dick, drawing a -long breath. "It's not about that Victoria has gone." - -"But what can the boy have sent her away for?" - -"To warn Beryl. It's a pity you didn't keep the two apart," said -Conniston, much vexed. "But as you have been so much in the dark, you -can't help the mistake you made. As to arrest, you may have to give -yourself up. Mark told me to inform you to hold yourself in readiness." - -"I shall be delighted," said Gore, emphatically. "I am about tired of -this hole-and-corner business. But what about Michael Gilroy?" - -"Sit down," said Conniston, lighting a cigarette. "I will tell you the -whole story. It was not told you before, as Mark was afraid, with your -impatient disposition, you would insist on turning up and spoiling the -whole business." - -"I daresay I should have done so," admitted Bernard, frankly. "But, tell -me, what's up, old chap? I'm on tenterhooks." - -"Well, in the first place, we have discovered that Julius killed your -grandfather." - -Bernard started to his feet. "What!" he shouted, then calmed down. "I -almost expected to hear you say that," he added. "How was the villain -found out?" - -"You may well call him a villain," rejoined Conniston; "he has tried to -poison Michael." - -"What for?" - -"To get rid of an undesirable witness, I suppose. He employed Jerry to -give him some arsenic in a cup of tea. Jerry did so, and then cleared -out, Mark communicated with Scotland Yard about Jerry, but we never -expected he would be here. It's a lucky thing you kept the young wretch -prisoner, Bernard." - -"This is all very well," said Bernard, who looked bewildered. "But you -tell me so many facts without detail that I can't understand how to -connect them. Tell me the whole story." - -"You won't interrupt if I do?" - -"No," said Gore, impatiently, "fire ahead, Dick." - -Conniston did so at once, and related all that had hitherto been kept -from Gore's knowledge. Bernard listened in silence, save for an -occasional ejaculation, which showed how difficult he found it to keep -his promise not to interrupt. "And I think Mark was about right to keep -these things from you, Bernard," said Conniston, when he ended. "For you -are in a wax hearing them now." - -"And who wouldn't be in a wax?" demanded Gore, furiously. "Look at the -way in which I have been treated. Beryl has made me a scape-goat for his -own wickedness. I have been compelled to hide my head. I have been -accused of an awful crime--my reputation has been ruined. I should think -I am furious, and I have a right to be." - -"Bernard! Bernard!" said Dick, shaking his smooth head, "your troubles -have taught you little. It was your furious temper that led you to fight -with Sir Simon. You then said words which made it probable to outsiders -that you committed this crime. And now, when all is on the eve of being -cleared up, you have as bad a temper as ever." - -"But think of that man Michael masquerading as me," went on Bernard, -determined to speak out. "It was bad enough in London, but that he -should dare to come to Alice--oh!" in an access of rage he shook his -fist. Then he sat down to recover himself. "You are right, Dick," he -remarked, wiping his forehead, "I'm a fool. I'll never learn wisdom. -Heaven knows I have had a severe lesson. I will try and control this -beastly temper of mine. But, after all, seeing that I love Alice so -much, it is not to be wondered at that I should be annoyed at another -man taking my place." - -"He didn't," replied Conniston, calmly and soothingly. "Miss Malleson -guessed the truth about him straight off. She has only used him as an -instrument to learn what she could. Don't you fuss, Bernard. What we -have to do is to question Judas, and see if he can supplement the -revelations of Michael, your half-brother." - -"Don't talk about that fellow being my half-brother." - -"Well, he is, isn't he?" - -"Yes, but--well, I suppose I should rather pity than blame the chap." - -"I think so too," said Dick gravely. "Miss Berengaria says there is much -good in him. She intends to assist him when she can." - -"I shall help him also," said Bernard, after a pause. "The poor fellow -can't help his birth, and I owe him something for the way in which my -father behaved to his mother." - -"This is a change of temper," laughed Conniston. - -"Oh, I soon get into a rage and soon get over it," rejoined Gore, -impatiently. "But we must examine this boy, Dick. He won't answer me -though. I have been asking him plenty of questions." - -"He'll answer me," said Conniston, rising. "I know about the poisoning. -He won't face that." - -"But did he really----" - -"Yes, he did. I told you he was an imp of darkness, though, to be sure, -I never expected he'd begin to murder people at his tender age. Come -along, Bernard, show me the captive." - -Gore led the way from the room and along a narrow passage. At the end of -this was a door, which he opened. It led into a large empty room, but no -sooner was the door opened, than a small boy darted out and endeavored -to get away. He ran straight into Conniston's arms. - -"Now then, young Judas," said Dick, setting the boy on his legs and -giving him a good shake. "Come and be tried." - -"My lord," gasped Jerry, who was pale with terror, and who had red eyes -and disordered hair. - -"Yes! I know all about your poisoning, young man." - -Jerry dropped on his knees. "I didn't," he declared, "oh lor, I really -didn't. Miss Plantagenet ordered the tea. She gave me the cup I----" - -"Here," said Conniston, giving him another shake, "stop that rubbish, -you young beast. You dare to say such things of my aunt, who has been so -kind to you. Hanging is too good for such a scamp. Come along, and -answer our questions." - -But Jerry, grovelling on the floor, embraced Conniston's riding-boots in -an agony of terror. "Oh, please," he whimpered, "I didn't mean to do any -harm. Mr. Beryl gave me some white stuff and told me to give it in tea -to the sick gentleman. I thought it would do him good!" - -With great disgust Dick picked up the young liar in his arms and carried -him kicking to the sitting-room, followed by Bernard. When the door was -closed, Bernard locked it, and there was no chance of Jerry getting -away, as the window was thirty feet from the ground. Gore took a seat in -one arm-chair and Conniston threw himself into the other, after flinging -Jerry on the hearth-rug. The boy lay there, kicking and howling, nearly -out of his wits with terror. - -"Shut up!" said Dick, sharply. "You have to answer questions." - -"I sha'n't," said Jerry. "You'll hang me." - -"There's no chance of that, worse luck," said Conniston, regretfully. - -On hearing this, the boy sat up. "Isn't he dead?" he asked eagerly. - -"Oh!" mocked Bernard, "and you thought the white stuff would do the sick -gentleman good--you young scoundrel! No. He isn't dead, Lord Conniston -says, but small thanks to you." - -"Oh!" Jerry seemed at once relieved and disappointed. "I won't get the -two thousand pounds now." - -"And you won't be hanged either, though you richly deserve it." - -"I don't. I've done nothing," said Jerry, sulkily. - -"You have attempted to poison Michael Gilroy----" - -"Do you know his name, Mr. Grant?" - -"Yes! And you know mine, Master Jerry. Come now, you must reply to the -questions which Lord Conniston wishes to put." - -"Sha'n't," said Jerry, and set his pretty, tearful face firmly. - -"Judas," said Conniston, taking his riding-whip from a near table, -"there's only one course to be pursued with boys like you. If you don't -speak out, I'll give you one of the finest thrashings you ever had in -your life." - -"I'll have an action against you then," snapped Jerry, very pale. - -"Certainly. But you'll have to get out of prison to bring it." - -"Prison?" Jerry quavered and shook all over. - -"Yes, prison," mimicked Conniston. "Do you think you can behave like a -young criminal and get off scot free?" - -"I was deceived by Mr. Beryl. He's older than I am. I am only a boy." - -"You are old enough to be hanged, at all events." - -"You said I wouldn't be, my lord." - -"That depends upon my good word," said Conniston, bluffing; "and you -won't have that unless you confess." - -"Confess what, my lord?" - -"All about this business connected with Beryl," put in Gore. "It was you -who led me to the house in Crimea Square." - -"I didn't--I didn't!" And then Jerry uttered a howl as Conniston's whip -came across his back. - -"Hold your tongue and answer." - -"How can I hold my tongue and answer at the same time, my lord?" - -Conniston took out his watch. "I'll give you two minutes to make up your -mind to talk sense. You are clever enough when it suits you. If you -won't speak, I'll thrash you thoroughly, and then take you up to be -handed to the police." - -"And if I do, my lord?" - -"I'll spare you the thrashing. But you must go to the police. You are -being enquired for, young Judas. Only by confessing the whole can you -avoid danger to your neck." - -"Only Mr. Beryl can get me into trouble, and you won't find him," said -Jerry, tauntingly. "I sent Victoria to him with a letter last night, and -she must have caught the eleven train to London. I daresay she saw Mr. -Beryl last night, and he's got away." - -"Why did you act so promptly?" asked Gore. - -"Because I saw you, Sir Bernard. I knew the game was up, and that you -were playing the fool with Mr. Beryl in getting that will signed." - -"Ah! so we all were," said Conniston, calmly. "The game is up, so you -had better explain your share in it. Begin from the time you were kicked -out of Taberley's for stealing." - -"I sha'n't," said Jerry. "I don't believe you can hurt me." - -Dick's patience was exhausted. He caught the young wretch by the scruff -of the neck and thrashed him thoroughly. Jerry, who had never been -beaten before in his life, wept and howled and begged for mercy. At last -Conniston threw him again on the rug thoroughly cowed, and between sobs -Jerry expressed his willingness to reply to whatever questions were put -to him. The examination was conducted as though Conniston was a -barrister and Jerry a witness. Bernard, in the character of a reporter, -went to the writing-table and took notes. Jerry stood wiping his eyes -and replying tearfully. - -"When did you meet Beryl?" asked Dick. - -"At Taberley's. He knew I was Mrs. Moon's grandson, as he saw me here at -one time. When I was kicked out, he promised to help me. I was told to -watch Sir Bernard, and I did. I saw you, my lord, with Sir Bernard in -the Park. I was always watching Sir Bernard." - -"I see. That was why you sold matches. Well, and it was you who told -Beryl that Sir Bernard was at Mr. Durham's house on that night?" - -"Yes," snuffled Jerry. "I saw him go in. I then went to the theatre, and -Mr. Beryl came out to see me. I told him, and he said I was to bring Sir -Bernard to the Square." - -"In any case, Beryl intended Sir Bernard should be brought there on that -night?" - -"Yes. About eleven o'clock or a little earlier. And I waited outside on -that night and----" - -"You needn't explain that," said Gore, turning his head. "I remember how -you drew me to the place. Did Beryl tell you to speak of the Red Light?" - -"Yes. He said you would come if I talked of a lady and the Red Window. -And Sir Simon had arranged the red light with a lamp and a handkerchief, -Mr. Beryl told me afterwards. I didn't know it on the night. All I had -to do was to bring you to the Square." - -"And what about the whistle you gave?" - -"That was to let Mr. Beryl know you were outside?" - -"Was Beryl in the house at that time?" - -"No," said Jerry, after a few moments of thought. "He should have been -there, but he afterwards told me that he had come earlier and had gone -away." - -"Did he intend to murder Sir Simon?" - -"I can't say," replied the boy, doubtfully. "He made that chap, Gilroy, -dress up as you, and court the housemaid. His idea was to get Sir Simon -to think you were making love to Jane. I think he wished to bring you to -the house, so that on seeing the red light you might go in, and then Sir -Simon would have quarrelled with you for loving Jane. I don't think he -intended murder. But Michael Gilroy came and saw Sir Simon, and then -bolted when he saw the Italian, thinking he was a detective. He told Mr. -Beryl that the next day!" - -"Who came to the house on that night, Jerry? State the time they came -also." - -Jerry thought again. "The Italian came first, and while he was in the -room, about ten I think, Michael came. Then Michael bolted, and the -Italian followed. Then shortly after ten Mr. Beryl came from the -theatre----" - -"Did you see him?" - -"No," rejoined Jerry, tartly. "How could I? I was leading you then." - -"Didn't you see Beryl at all that night--I mean again after you saw him -to tell him where Sir Bernard was?" - -"Yes, I did," said Jerry, rubbing his legs which were sore. "I may as -well tell the truth. Just as we turned into Crimea Square, Sir Bernard, -I brushed past Mr. Beryl." - -"How could you recognize him in the fog?" - -"I did. I saw him under a lamp. He was going back to the theatre and was -very pale. Then I cut to look after Sir Bernard. I gave the whistle and -then I cleared. Next day Mr. Beryl told me all that had taken place." - -"Did you think he had committed the crime?" - -"No, I thought that Michael had. He had forged a check, and I thought -that he would quarrel with Sir Simon and kill him." - -The boy spoke in all earnestness, so apparently Julius had been clever -enough to keep the fact of his own guilt secret. But for the -handkerchief it would have been difficult to have accused him. Conniston -asked a final question. "How much do you get for all this?" - -"Two thousand pounds if Michael died." - -"If you poisoned him?" asked Bernard. - -"Yes," said Jerry, sulkily. "I did intend to poison him, as I wanted the -two thousand pounds. I came on here, and was then going to hide in -London. After that, I should have sent for Victoria, and when Mr. Beryl -paid, we would have gone to America." - -"And why didn't you carry out this clever plan?" asked Gore. - -Jerry turned still more sulky. "Because I saw you, and then I knew the -game was up. Even if Michael had died, you would have been able to claim -the property." - -"Then Beryl really believed I was dead?" - -"Yes, he did--so did I. When Victoria wrote me that you were here, I -thought you were Michael. And when Michael came over to the Bower, I -thought he had come from here. If I had known the truth----" - -"Well?" said Bernard, dryly. - -Jerry smiled amiably. "I'd have chucked Mr. Beryl and offered to prove -your innocence if you gave me the two thousand. No," added Jerry, with a -charming smile, "I'd have asked three thousand from you." - -The young men looked at one another in wonder at this precocious -criminality. "Can you prove my innocence?" asked Bernard. - -"Yes," said Jerry. - -"You know who killed Sir Simon?" - -"Yes, I do. But I won't tell till I have seen Beryl," and this was all -they could get out of him, in spite of threats of further whippings and -cajolings. So Jerry was taken back to his room, and Bernard arranged -with Conniston that the boy should be taken to London that very day. - -"And then, when Durham lets me know, I'll surrender myself. But I wonder -who killed my grandfather after all." - -"Julius Beryl," said Conniston. - -"Hum! I don't know. This boy seems to have some idea. I tell you what, -Dick, I shouldn't be surprised if the boy did it himself." - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - THE TRUTH - - -The arrest of Sir Bernard Gore made a great sensation. It was generally -supposed that he was dead, and his unexpected appearance surprised every -one. Also, as he was believed to be guilty, the public was amazed that -he should thus thrust himself into jeopardy. But more thoughtful people -saw in Gore's surrender a proof of his innocence, and argued very -rightly that were he guilty of the murder of Sir Simon, he would not -come forward as he had done to stand his trial. - -An additional surprise came in the arrest of Michael, who was said to be -the half-brother of Gore, and to resemble him very closely. A rumor got -about--no one knew how--that this resemblance between the two would be -made the basis of the defence. Also, the boy, Jerry Moon, who was -implicated in the matter, was in charge of the police, and it was -expected that he would make startling revelations. On the whole, there -was every chance that the forthcoming trial would be extremely -interesting. Every one looked forward with great expectation to the time -when Sir Bernard would be placed in the dock. Inspector Groom, formerly -in charge of the case, was now attending to the matter again. He said -very little, although the reporters tried to make him give his opinion. -But, from the few words he let drop, it would seem that he believed -firmly in the innocence of the accused man. - -"I don't see anything about Beryl in the papers," said Conniston, when -at Durham's office. - -"There is nothing to say about him at present," replied the lawyer. "We -have not caught him yet, and perhaps never may." - -"Victoria warned him, then?" - -"Yes. That imp of a boy wrote a letter stating that Bernard was at Cove -Castle, and advising flight. Victoria caught a train shortly before -eleven and came straight to Beryl's rooms, the address of which she -received from Jerry. Beryl--as Jerry had done--saw that the game was up, -and realized that we, knowing Gore to be alive, had been simply playing -with the imposture of Michael. He bolted that same night and managed to -cross to the Continent. At least, we suppose so, as no trace of him can -be found." - -"What will you do about him, then?" - -Durham shrugged his shoulders. "There is nothing can be done," he -answered. "With the evidence of Michael, Jerry and Miss Randolph and -Tolomeo, we shall be able to prove Bernard's innocence and his cousin's -guilt. Bernard will be set free without a stain on his character. But as -to how Beryl will be arrested, or whether he will ever be punished, I am -unable to give an opinion." - -"What about Mrs. Gilroy?" - -"Ah, we want her. But we cannot find out where she is. Even her son -doesn't know. He would speak out if he did know, as I fancy he is -sincerely repentant for the trouble this new edition of the Corsican -Brothers has caused." - -"But had you not some plan to lure Mrs. Gilroy out of her hiding?" - -Durham searched amongst his papers and produced a journal. "Read that," -said he, pointing to a column. - -It was an article dealing with the case, in which the writer hinted that -Michael was guilty and Bernard innocent. It was also stated that Michael -would certainly be put in the dock, and that sufficient evidence was in -the power of the prosecution to procure his condemnation. The whole -article was written strongly, and after reading it, Conniston, had he -not known the true facts of the case, would have fancied Michael guilty. -He said as much. Durham smiled. - -"That is exactly the feeling I wish to convey to Mrs. Gilroy," he -declared, taking back the paper. "She, if any one, can prove the guilt -of Beryl, but for some reason--perhaps for money--she is hiding. If she -reads that paragraph she will at once come forward to save her son, and -then we'll be able to prove Beryl's guilt beyond a doubt." - -"But she may not take in the particular journal," said Conniston. - -"Oh, this is only one paper. Within the next few days that article will -be copied in every newspaper in London. Mrs. Gilroy is bound, wherever -she is, to hear of the arrest of her son, and of Bernard giving himself -up. To learn what is taking place she will read whatever papers she can -get hold of. Then she will see that article, and if it doesn't bring her -forward to save Michael and condemn Beryl, I am very much mistaken." - -"It sounds rather like contempt of court," said Dick, gravely. - -Durham laughed. "It is, in a way. Every man has a right to be considered -innocent in English law until his guilt is proved. But I arranged with -Scotland Yard that this article should appear in the hope that Mrs. -Gilroy--an important witness, mind you--should be brought forward. I -can't exactly tell you all the details, but you may be sure that the -thing has been done legally. Besides," argued Durham, calmly, "seeing we -have such a strong proof of Beryl's guilt, there is no doubt that -Michael will have a fair trial." - -"I say," said Conniston, rising to take his leave, "do you know it's -Bernard's idea that Jerry might have committed the crime. It seems to me -that Beryl is too great a coward to do it himself." - -"Stuff!" said Durham, quite in the style of Miss Berengaria. "The boy -could not have possibly strangled the old man. He was leading Bernard to -the Square to within a few minutes of the time when Mrs. Gilroy came out -shouting murder. No, Conniston, Beryl is the man, as is proved by his -handkerchief. He came to the house immediately Tolomeo left, since he -passed that man in the Square. The boy saw him departing, after Bernard -was lured to be on the spot. Beryl was hurrying back to the theatre to -arrange for his _alibi_. Everything was beautifully arranged. But for -the discovery of Michael, we might have learned nothing. Also Tolomeo's -evidence is valuable. Mrs. Gilroy, having been in the house at the time, -is the woman who knows all. Doubtless Beryl threatened to denounce her -son, and that was why she accused Bernard, counting on the resemblance -to carry the matter through." - -"What an infernally wicked woman!" said Dick, angrily. - -"Oh! not at all. Mrs. Gilroy is a mother, and she naturally would -sacrifice the whole world to save her son. Besides, she may have acted -on the spur of the moment, and then had to go on with the matter." - -"Well," said Conniston, putting on his hat, "I sincerely hope your net -will capture her." - -"It is sure to. A woman who would try and save her son by accusing an -innocent man would not remain quiet to see him hanged. By the way, Miss -Berengaria is in town, I believe?" - -"Yes, with Miss Randolph and Alice. They are stopping at the Waterloo -Hotel, Guelph Street. I believe they expect you along to dinner this -evening." - -Durham nodded. "I received a note from the old lady, and intend to come. -By the way, Dick, I hope you are fascinating her. Remember, she can -leave you five thousand a year, and can't last much longer." - -"I believe Miss Berengaria will see her century," said Dick. "Besides, -now you have my affairs in order, I have enough to live on." - -"But not enough to marry on," said Durham, significantly. - -Conniston flushed. "If you speak of Lucy," he said, "she has a little -money of her own, and our two incomes will keep us alive." - -"It won't keep up the dignity of the title." - -"Oh, the deuce take the dignity of that," said Conniston, carelessly. -"In this democratic age who cares for titles?" - -"The Americans, Dick. You ought to marry one." - -"I'll marry Lucy, who is the sweetest girl in the world," said Dick, -firmly. "We understand one another, and as soon as this business is -over, Mark----" - -"You will marry." - -"No. Bernard and I will go out to the Front." - -"What! Does Bernard say that?" - -"Yes. He intends to go back to his Imperial Yeomanry uniform, and I -honor him for it," said Dick, with some heat. "Bernard is not the man to -sneak out of doing his duty. And Miss Malleson approves. I go out to the -Front also, and daresay I shall manage to get a place of sorts, from -which to take pot-shots at the enemy." - -"But, my dear fellow," said Durham, much disturbed, "you may be killed." - -"'Naught was never in danger,'" said Conniston, opening the door. "You -get Bernard out of this scrape, Mark, and then come and see us start. -We'll return covered with glory." - -"And without legs or arms," said Durham, crossly. "Just as if Bernard -hadn't enough danger, he must needs run his head into more. Go away, -Dick. It's your feather brain that has made him stick to his guns." - -"Not a bit," retorted Conniston, slipping out, "it's Bernard's own idea. -Good-bye, Mark. I hope you will recover your temper by the time we meet -at Aunt Berengaria's hospitable table." - -Things fell out as Durham prophesied. The article was published in all -the London and country journals, and provoked both praise and blame. -Many said that it was wrong to hint that a man was guilty before he had -been tried. Others pointed to the sufferings that the innocent Bernard -Gore had undergone, and insisted that even before the trial his name -should be cleared. Those in authority took no notice of the storm thus -raised, which seemed to confirm Durham's statement that the article had -been inspired from high legal quarters. But the result of the -publication and discussion of the matter was that one day a woman came -to see Durham at his office. - -The moment she entered he guessed who she was, even although she was -veiled. Clothed from head to foot in black, and looking tragic enough -for a Muse, poor soul, for certainly she had cause, Mrs. Gilroy raised -her veil and examined the keen face of the lawyer. - -"You did not expect to see me?" she asked, taking the seat he pointed to -silently. - -Durham was not going to tell her that the article had been published to -draw her forth, as she might have taken flight and suspected a trap. - -"It is a surprise," he said artfully. "And I am at a loss to understand -why you have come." - -"To save my son," said Mrs. Gilroy, looking at him with haggard eyes. - -"Michael Gilroy?" - -"Michael Gore. He has a right to his father's name." - -"Pardon me, I think not. Bernard Gore is the heir." - -"Ah!" said the woman, bitterly, and clasping her hands with a swift, -nervous gesture. "He has all the luck--the title--the money--the----" - -"You must admit," said Durham, politely, "that he had had very bad luck -for the most part." - -"His own foolishness is the cause of it." - -"Did you come to tell me this?" - -Mrs. Gilroy sat quite still for a moment, and Durham noticed that even -what good looks she had were gone. Her cheeks were fallen in, her eyes -were sunken, her drab hair was streaked with white, and her face wore a -terrible expression of despair and sorrow. "I have come to tell you all -I know," she said. "I would not do so, save for two things. One is, that -I wish to save my son, who is absolutely innocent; the other, that I am -dying." - -"Dying? I hope not." - -"I am dying," said Mrs. Gilroy, firmly. "I have suffered for many years -from an incurable disease--it doesn't matter what. But I cannot live -long, and, but for my son, I should have ended my miserable life long -ago, owing to the pain I suffer. Oh the pain--the pain--the pain!" she -moaned, rocking to and fro as Michael had done. - -Durham was sincerely sorry for her, although he knew she was not a good -woman. "Let me get you some brandy," he said. - -"No," replied Mrs. Gilroy, waving her hand. "Call in some clerk who can -take down what I have to say. I will probably speak quickly, as my -strength will not last long. I have come from an hospital to see you. -Get a clerk who writes rapidly, and be quick." - -Durham called in a clerk and gave the order, then turned to his client. -"Was it on account of going to the hospital that you left Gore Hall?" he -asked. - -Mrs. Gilroy, still rocking, bowed her head. "Did you want me?" she -asked. - -"I wanted to tell you that Michael came to Miss Berengaria's to----" - -"Michael. He came there. Why?" - -"To pass himself off as Bernard." - -"Ah, that was part of Beryl's scheme to get the money." - -"Was it part of his scheme to poison Michael?" said Durham. - -Mrs. Gilroy started to her feet, flushed with anger. - -"Did he do that, Mr. Durham?" she asked. "Did he dare to----" - -"Yes. He got Michael to sign a will as Bernard, leaving all the money to -him, and then employed Jerry to poison him. Jerry should not have done -so for two or three days, but he was eager to get away, as he was afraid -of being found out, so he poisoned your son within a few hours of the -signing of the false will." - -"The villain!" said Mrs. Gilroy, thinking of Beryl. "But he shall not -escape. I have come to tell you all. I wish I could see him hanged. He -is the cause of all the trouble. I saw in the papers that Sir Bernard -was alive," she added; "how did he escape?" - -"He swam across the river and went down to Cove Castle. We knew all the -time he was there in hiding." - -"Who knew?" - -"Myself, Lord Conniston, Miss Berengaria and Miss Malleson." - -"So you played with Michael?" said Mrs. Gilroy, drawing a breath. - -"Yes. Miss Malleson and Miss Plantagenet both knew he was not the true -Bernard. Your hint about your son being like his father showed me who -Michael was, and I told the others. Yes, Mrs. Gilroy, I allowed Michael -to sign the false will, so as to trap Beryl. But, believe me, had I -known Beryl intended to poison your son, I should not have allowed the -matter to go so far." - -"You could do nothing else," said Mrs. Gilroy, sadly. "Both Michael and -myself have suffered. I was deceived by a false marriage, and the sins -of the father have been visited on the child." - -"That is true enough," said Durham. "But for the sin of Walter Gore, -Michael, with his wonderful resemblance to Bernard, would not have been -born, and Beryl would not have been able to plot as he did." - -"Well! well! He is an exile and has been punished." - -"When you can prove his guilt, as I suppose you intend to do," said the -lawyer, grimly, "I'll do my best to have him brought back and hanged. -You will be pleased at that." - -Mrs. Gilroy laughed in a hollow manner, and cast a strange look at the -lawyer. "I should be pleased indeed," she said, "but there's no such -luck. Hanging is not Beryl's dukkeripen." - -"That's a gypsy word." - -"I was found and brought up by gypsies," said Mrs. Gilroy, -indifferently, "although I am not of Romany blood. But I learned a few -secrets from the Romany," added Mrs. Gilroy, her eyes flashing, "and one -of them relating to drabbing--if you know what that means--may come in -useful this day." - -"What does drabbing mean?" - -"It has to do with drows," said Mrs. Gilroy, laughing and rocking. "I -daresay you'll know the meaning of both words before the end of this -day." And she began to sing softly:-- - - "'The Romany cha, - And the Romany chal, - Shall jaw tasulor, - To drab the bawlor, - And dook the gry.'" - -Durham thought that her illness had affected her head. He did not say -anything, but resolved to get her examination over as quickly as -possible. A clerk entered at the moment, carrying a typewriting machine, -which he set down on a small table near at hand. - -"I think it will be best that your words should be taken down by the -machine," said Durham, turning to Mrs. Gilroy, "as the writer can keep -up with your speech." - -"As you please," said Mrs. Gilroy, coolly. "I have to sign my statement -in the presence of witnesses, you and this young man." - -"But why do you----" - -"There, there," said the woman, impatiently, "don't I tell you I have -very little strength left. Are you ready?" - -"Yes, madam," said the clerk, who was addressed. - -"Then don't interrupt. I am about to tell you strange things," and she -began forthwith, the clerk taking down all she said as quickly as she -spoke. Durham, pencil in hand, made a note occasionally. - -"I am a foundling," said Mrs. Gilroy, smoothly and swiftly. "I was -picked up by some gypsies called Lovel, in the New Forest. I was with -them till I came of age. I was then a pretty girl. In our wanderings we -came to Hurseton. There I saw Walter Gore at a fair. I did not know he -was married, as we stopped at Hurseton only a short time. We went away. -Walter followed and said he loved me. He married me at last. We went -abroad--then came back to London. When my child, Michael, was born, I -learned the truth, for Walter had deserted me. I went down to Hurseton -to see Sir Simon. He sent me to the States with Michael, my son. Walter -sent me money." - -"This is slightly different to what Michael said," remarked Durham. "I -understood that you never saw Sir Simon till you returned from the -States." - -"Michael doesn't know everything," said Mrs. Gilroy, impatiently. "I -tell my own story in my own way. Do not interrupt. I remained in the -States for a long time. Then Walter died, and his true wife also. I came -to see Sir Simon again. He was sorry for me, and offered to make me the -housekeeper at Gore Hall, which should have been my home, but he -insisted that Michael should return to the States. My boy did so, in -charge of some friends. Sir Simon promised to give me five hundred a -year when he died, so that I could help my boy. He only left me one -hundred, the mean villain! I supported my son out of my wages. He grew -weary of the States and came to England. Sir Simon was angry, but he got -him a situation in London, on condition that the boy never came to -Hurseton. That was why no one knew there was any one resembling Sir -Bernard so closely. Well, in London Michael fell in with Julius -Beryl----" - -"I know all that," said Durham, quickly. "Michael told me. I know he was -employed by Beryl to impersonate Bernard so that Sir Simon's anger -should be aroused." - -"Well, then, you know a good deal," said Mrs. Gilroy, "but not all. No, -indeed," she added, smiling strangely, "not all." - -"Tell me the events of that night, and how Beryl killed Sir Simon." - -Mrs. Gilroy laughed again. "I am coming to that. You will be much -surprised when I tell you all. Bernard was in town as a soldier; Beryl -got Michael to masquerade. I never knew it was my own son who courted -Jane Riordan. Had I known, I should have put a stop to the business. I -really thought from the description given, that Jane's lover was -Bernard. I wanted Sir Simon, whom I told, to throw over Bernard and let -my son have the property. He would have done so, but that Michael had -forged a check----" - -"I know about that also." - -"Very good. We will pass that," said the woman. "Well, Sir Simon was -angry. I saw there was no chance for my boy, and cast about how else to -get the money for him. Beryl informed me that he intended by means of -the Red Window and Jerry to lure Bernard to the Square, in the hope that -when he saw the red light he would come up and have a quarrel with his -grandfather." - -"What about?" asked Durham. - -"About Bernard's supposed courting of the housemaid. That was why Beryl -employed my son to masquerade. He knew that Sir Simon was a proud man, -and would not readily forgive such a thing. He knew Sir Simon was -regretting his quarrel with Bernard, and wished to give it renewed life. -Well, then, Beryl arranged to go to the theatre. He said he would come -round after ten or near eleven to see if the old man had quarrelled with -Bernard. He hoped that he would be able to get the order to turn Bernard -out. He did not know, though, at what time Bernard would arrive. But -when he did, I was to open the door to him." - -"Jerry's whistle was to be the signal," said the lawyer. - -"Yes. Then I was to show Bernard up, and the quarrel would then take -place." - -"Beryl did not really intend murder, then?" - -"Mr. Durham, you will harp on that," said Mrs. Gilroy, impatiently. -"Wait till I speak out. You see how matters were arranged for that -night. Miss Randolph and Beryl went to the theatre so that they should -not be mixed up in the quarrel." - -"But Miss Randolph knew nothing?" - -"Of course not. Beryl knew she was friendly to Bernard, and wished her -out of the way. For that reason, he took her to the theatre. I then -suggested to Sir Simon that probably Bernard knew of the house from you, -and might come back. Sir Simon had sent for him to the kitchen, but my -son, being afraid, ran away. Sir Simon laughed at the idea of the red -lamp, but he did not forbid my arranging it. I got a lamp and placed it -before the window. Then I placed across the window a red bandana of Sir -Simon's. From the outside the signal could be plainly seen." - -"What happened next?" asked Durham, while the typewriter clicked in a -most cheerful manner. - -"Various things," retorted Mrs. Gilroy, "and not those you expect to -hear. I sat downstairs, waiting and working. Sir Simon was in the room -with the red light showing through the window. The trap was laid. It -only remained for Jerry to bring Bernard to fall into it. Shortly before -ten an Italian called." - -"Bernard's uncle, Signor Tolomeo?" - -"Yes. I knew him, and took him up to Sir Simon, thinking his presence -might make the quarrel worse. All Beryl and I wished to do was to -prevent Bernard and Sir Simon from becoming reconciled. Well, Tolomeo -saw Sir Simon, and while he was with him, my son arrived. I asked him -what he was doing there. He told me then that he had been masquerading -as Bernard, and informed me about the check. He was afraid of trouble in -connection with it, as by means of it, Beryl held him in his power. He -came to make a clean breast of it to Sir Simon. I tried to stop him -going up----" - -"But why?" interrupted the lawyer, quickly. - -"I had my own plans, with which Michael's presence interfered," said -Mrs. Gilroy, coolly. "However, he would not be overruled, and went up to -see Sir Simon. The old man concealed Tolomeo behind a curtain, and then -quarrelled with Michael about the check. There was a great row, as Sir -Simon threatened to have Michael arrested. In the middle of the quarrel -Tolomeo came out. Michael took him for a detective, and fled. He ran out -before I could stop him. Then Tolomeo departed also. I went up the -stairs and implored Sir Simon not to arrest my son. Then Beryl arrived -nearly at the half hour." - -"How did he enter?" - -"Tolomeo, running after Michael, left the door open. Beryl tried to -pacify the old man. I remained in the room all the time----" - -"Then you saw the murder." - -"Wait a moment," said Mrs. Gilroy, rising in the excitement of her tale. -"Beryl and the old man quarrelled. Then Sir Simon told him to go back to -the theatre. Beryl, thinking he had offended Sir Simon past recall, -wept. Yes," said Mrs. Gilroy, with a sneer, "he cried like a child. Sir -Simon was disgusted. He snatched his handkerchief from him, and threw it -on the floor. Beryl was ordered out of the house again. He left and went -back to the theatre. The interview took only a few minutes." - -"But the murder?" - -"I committed it," said Mrs. Gilroy, simply. - -Durham and the clerk both jumped and stared. - -"You?" said the lawyer. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Gilroy, coolly. "You have been on the wrong tack all -along. You thought that Bernard killed Sir Simon--that my son did -so--that Tolomeo did so--that Beryl was guilty. But you were all wrong. -I, and none other, killed Sir Simon." - -"You say this to save your son?" - -"No. Tolomeo can prove that Sir Simon was alive when Michael fled from -the house. Beryl can prove that I was alone with Sir Simon. It was -late--the servants were in bed. I determined to kill the old man." - -"Why, in Heaven's name?" - -"Because I saw that when Bernard came he would be arrested, and there -would be a chance for my son getting the money. Then Sir Simon intended -to have Michael arrested--I wished to stop that. Then, again, for years -Sir Simon had insulted and humiliated me. I hated him fervently. Oh, I -had plenty of reasons to kill the old brute. I went downstairs and got -the chloroform." - -"Had you that ready?" asked Durham, horrified at this recital. - -"Yes and no. I didn't buy it then. I always thought that Sir Simon kept -his will at the Hall, and I bought the chloroform months before, hoping -one night to make him insensible, so that I could look at the will. But -the chloroform was not wasted," said Mrs. Gilroy, with a pale smile. "I -brought it with me to town--always ready to watch for my chance of -rendering my master insensible and of reading the will. I wanted to see -if he left Michael anything, and if he had really left me the five -hundred he promised. Besides, in his death, I saw a chance of getting -rid of Bernard by hanging, and of having my son acknowledged as the -heir." - -"But Beryl? You reckoned without Beryl?" - -"No," said Mrs. Gilroy, calmly. "You forget the handkerchief. I took -that down with me, and soaked it with chloroform. I guessed that the -handkerchief would condemn Beryl, should it be necessary to accuse any -one. I did not foresee what would happen," added the woman, impatiently. -"I only acted as I saw things then. I came upstairs, and while -pretending to arrange Sir Simon's cushions, I clapped the handkerchief -over his mouth. He struggled for a long time. It is not easy to -chloroform people," said the woman, pensively. "I thought they went off -at once, but Sir Simon was some time struggling." - -"Go on--go on," said Durham in disgust. "Get this over." - -Mrs. Gilroy laughed and drew her shawl tightly about her spare figure. - -"After he was insensible," she continued, "I strangled him with his own -handkerchief, after tying Beryl's handkerchief across his mouth. I then -went down and took my work up again while waiting for Bernard." - -Durham made a gesture of abhorrence. "You could work?" - -"Why not?" said Mrs. Gilroy. "There was nothing else to do--the old man -was dead--the trap was set. All I had to do was to wait till Bernard -walked into it." - -"Had you no regrets for that?" - -"None. Bernard Gore robbed my boy of his birthright." - -"Bernard was the eldest son, even though Michael had been born in----" - -"I know all about that," said Mrs. Gilroy, waving her hand, "spare me -your preaching. Is there anything more you wish to know?" - -"About this plot to get the false will signed?" - -"I knew little of that. I accused Bernard, and he escaped. Beryl guessed -I murdered the old man, but for his own sake he held his tongue. I heard -Bernard's whistle, or rather Jerry's, and went out crying murder. The -rest you know. Then I played my part. I left the diary at the Hall for -Miss Randolph to find, as I thought Tolomeo might be accused. I fancied, -as things turned out, it would be better to have Bernard back, and get -him to do something for Michael. That was why I prepared the diary." - -"It was a false entry?" said Durham, looking at her. - -Mrs. Gilroy yawned. "Yes, it was. I prepared it, as I say. I am getting -very tired," she added. "Let me sign the paper and go." - -"You must sign the paper, and you must be arrested," said Durham. - -"As you please," said Mrs. Gilroy, perfectly calmly. Then Durham sent -for Inspector Groom, and, pending his arrival, Mrs. Gilroy signed the -paper, with Durham and the clerk as witnesses. She then fell asleep, and -Durham went out to receive Groom. They talked together for some time, -then entered the room. Mrs. Gilroy was lying on the floor in -convulsions, and laughed when she saw them. - -"Good Heavens!" cried Groom. "She has poisoned herself!" - -"I have taken drows," gasped Mrs. Gilroy. "That's my dukkerin!" and died -hard. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - A YEAR LATER - - -It was midsummer, and Miss Berengaria's garden was a sight. Such -splendid colors, such magnificent blossoms, such triumphs of the -floricultural art, had never been seen outside the walls of a flower -show. The weather was exceedingly warm, and on this particular day there -was not a cloud in the sky. Miss Plantagenet pottered about her garden, -clipping and arranging as usual, and seemed to be in the very best of -spirits. And well she might be, for this was a red-letter day with her. - -Under the shade of a large elm-tree sat Durham, in the most -unprofessional tweed suit, and beside him, Alice, radiant in a white -dress. She looked particularly pretty, and her face was a most becoming -color. Every now and then she would glance at the watch on her wrist, -and Durham laughed as he saw how frequently she referred to it. - -"The train won't be here for another hour," he said, smiling. "You will -see Bernard soon enough, Miss Malleson." - -"Oh, dear me," sighed Alice, "can I ever see him soon enough? It seems -like eleven years instead of eleven months since he went away. I wish he -hadn't gone." - -"Well," said Durham, following with his eyes the spare little figure of -Miss Berengaria flitting about amongst the flowers, "I didn't approve of -it at the time, and I told Conniston so. But now I think it was just as -well Bernard did keep to his original intention and go to the Front. It -is advisable there should be an interval between the new life and the -old." - -"The new life?" asked Alice, flushing. - -"He is coming home to be married to you," said Durham. - -"And with a bullet in his arm," sighed Alice. "I shall have to nurse him -back to health before we can marry." - -"Miss Randolph will be occupied in the same pleasing task with -Conniston," replied Durham, lazily, "and I envy both my friends." - -"You needn't," laughed Miss Malleson, opening her sunshade which cast a -delicate pink hue on her cheeks. "Poor Bernard has been wounded and Lord -Conniston has been down with enteric fever." - -"I am glad they have got off so easily. Bernard might have been shot, -you know." - -Alice shuddered and grew pale. "Don't, Mr. Durham!" - -"That was why I feared about his going out," said he. "I thought it -would be a pity, after all he passed through, that he should be killed -by a Boer bullet. But he has only temporarily lost the use of his arm; -he has been mentioned for gallantry in the despatches; and he is coming -home to marry the most charming girl in the world--I quote from his own -letter," finished Durham, smiling. - -"And Lord Conniston?" - -"He is coming also to marry Miss Randolph. Both weddings will take place -on the same day, and Conniston has escaped the dangers of the war with a -slight touch of fever. But why tell you all this--you know it as well as -I do." - -"What's that?" asked Miss Berengaria, coming up to the pair. - -"I was only discussing Miss Malleson's future life," said Durham. - -"Ah," sighed the old lady, sitting down. "What I shall do without her I -don't know." - -"Dear aunt," said Alice, kissing the faded cheek, "I shall not be far -away. The Hall is within visiting distance." - -"That's all very well," said Miss Berengaria. "But Bernard will want you -all to himself, and small blame to him. What is the time?" - -Alice glanced at her watch. "It's nearly three, and the train arrives at -half-past," she said. "Oh, I wish we could meet them." - -"Not at all," rejoined Miss Berengaria, brusquely, "better wait here -with Lucy. She will be over soon. I don't want a scene of kissing and -weeping on the platform. But, I must say, I am glad both those boys are -back." - -"You will have them as near neighbors, Miss Berengaria," said the -lawyer. "Bernard at Gore Hall and Conniston at the castle." - -"I hope he and Lucy won't live there," said the old lady, rubbing her -nose. "A dreadfully damp place. I went over there the other day to tell -Mrs. Moon about Jerry." - -"Have you had good reports of him?" - -"So, so. The reformatory he was put into seems to be a good one, and the -boys are well looked after. But Jerry is a tree which will grow crooked. -He seems to have been giving a lot of trouble." - -"Yet he was lucky to get off as he did," said Durham. "The judge might -have sent him to jail instead of into a reformatory." - -"And he'll land in jail some day," said Alice, shaking her head. "At -least, Bernard seems to think so." - -"I fancy Bernard is about right," replied Durham. "The lad is a born -criminal. I wonder how he inherited such a tainted nature." - -Miss Berengaria sat up briskly. "I can tell you," she said. "Mrs. Moon -informed me that her son--Jerry's father--was a desperate scamp, and -also that several of her husband's people had come to bad ends." - -"To rope ends, I suppose, as Jerry will come," said Durham. "However, he -is safe for the next three years in his reformatory. When he comes out, -we will see what will happen. What about your other _protege_, Miss -Berengaria." - -"Michael Gilroy?" - -"Yes. Has he taken that name for good?" - -"He has. It's the only name he is entitled to. How glad I am that the -poor creature was acquitted after that dreadful trial. I am sure there -is good in him." - -"So Bernard thought, and that was why he assisted him," said Alice. - -"I think you put in a good word for him, Miss Malleson." - -Alice assented. "I was sorry for the poor fellow. While I nursed him I -saw much good in him. And, remember, that he had intended to tell me who -he was when he arrived, only he was so ill." - -"And when he saw that you fancied he was Bernard, he accepted the -situation," said Durham, ironically. "I wonder he could have thought you -so easily taken in, knowing that you knew Bernard so intimately." - -"Well, I don't think he was quite himself during that illness," said -Alice, pensively. "Had he been better, he would certainly have doubted -the fact of aunty's and my beliefs. A few questions from me, and he -would have been exposed, even had I truly believed he was Bernard." - -"And he must have wondered how you never put the questions." - -"Perhaps. But he thought I was considering his health. However, he spoke -up well at the trial, and quite explained Bernard's innocence." - -Durham shrugged his shoulders. "The serpent in the bamboo. He was forced -to be honest at the trial for his own sake." - -"Don't be hard on him," said Miss Berengaria, suddenly. "I received a -letter from him yesterday. He is doing very well in America, and with -the money Bernard gave him he has bought a farm. Also, he hopes to -marry." - -"I wonder will he tell his future wife anything of his past life." - -"Not if he is wise," said Durham, looking at Alice, who had spoken. "By -the way, Miss Berengaria, does he mention his mother?" - -"No," replied the old lady, promptly. "Drat you, Durham! why should the -boy mention his mother at this point? She has been dead all these -months. Poor soul! her end was a sad one. I never heard, though, of what -poison she died." - -"A Romany poison they call drows," explained Durham, quickly. "The -gipsies use it to poison pigs." - -"Why do they wish to poison pigs?" - -"Because, if they kill a pig in that way, the farmer to whom it belongs, -thinking the animal has died a natural death, gives it to the gipsies -and they eat it." - -"Ugh!" Miss Berengaria shuddered. "I'll look well after my own pigs. So -the poor creature killed herself with that drug?" - -"I don't know that it is a drug," said Durham. "I can't explain what it -is. She hinted that I would know what drows meant before the end of the -day, and I did. While I was telling Inspector Groom about her -confession, she poisoned herself in my office. I thought she was asleep, -but she evidently was watching for her opportunity to make away with -herself." - -"Ugh!" said Miss Berengaria, again. "I wonder you can bear to sit in -that office after such an occurrence." - -"How lucky it was that she signed that confession before she died," was -the remark made by Alice. - -"My dear young lady, she came especially to confess, so as to save her -son. She would not have died until she did confess." - -"And if she had not suffered from that incurable disease, I doubt if she -would have committed suicide," said Miss Plantagenet. - -"Oh, I think so," said Durham, reflectively. "After all, her confession -meant hanging to her. She wished to escape the gallows." - -"I am glad Bernard did," said Miss Berengaria, emphatically; "even at -the risk of all that scandal." - -"It couldn't be kept out of the papers," said Durham, with a shrug. -"After all, Bernard's character had to be fully cleansed. It was -therefore necessary to tell the whole of Beryl's plot, to produce -Michael as an example of what Nature can do in the way of resemblances, -and to supplement the whole with Mrs. Gilroy's confession." - -"And a nice trouble there was over it," said the old lady, annoyed. "I -believe Bernard had a man calling on him who wished to write a play -about the affair--a new kind of 'Corsican Brothers.'" - -"Or a new 'Comedy of Errors,'" said Alice, smiling. "Well, the public -learned everything and were sorry for Bernard. They cheered him when he -left the court." - -"And would have been quite as ready to hiss him had things turned out -otherwise," snapped Miss Berengaria. "The man who should have suffered -was that wretch Beryl." - -"We couldn't catch him," said Durham. "Victoria reached him on that very -night, and he cleared without loss of time. Of course, he was afraid of -being accused of the crime, although he knew he was innocent, but, -besides that, there was the conspiracy to get the estate by means of the -false will. By the way, did Mrs. Moon say what had become of Victoria?" - -Miss Berengaria nodded. "Victoria is down in Devonshire with an aunt, -and is being kept hard at work to take the bad out of her. I understand -she still believes in Jerry and will marry him when he comes out of the -reformatory. He will then be of a marriageable age, the brat! But, -regarding Beryl, what became of him?" - -"I never could find out," confessed Durham. - -"Then I can tell you, Durham. Michael saw him in New York." - -"Where?" - -"In some low slum, very ragged and poor. He didn't see Michael, or he -might have troubled him. He has taken to drink, I believe--Beryl I -mean--so some day he will die, and a nice fate awaits him where he will -go," said Miss Berengaria, grimly. - -Durham rose and removed his straw hat. "Well," said he, looking down on -the two ladies, "the whole case is over and ended. I don't see why we -should revive such very unpleasant memories. The past is past, so let it -rest. Bernard has the title and the money and----" - -"Here's Lucy," said Alice, rising. "Dear girl, how sweet she looks!" - -It was indeed Lucy tripping across the lawn in the lightest of summer -frocks. She looked charming, and greeted Alice with a kiss. "I am so -anxious," she whispered. "The train will be in soon." - -"You are anxious to see Conniston?" said Miss Berengaria. - -"Yes. And I am also anxious to hand the Hall over to Bernard. I have had -a lot of trouble looking after it. Haven't I, Mr. Durham?" - -Durham bowed. "You have been an admirable Lady of the Manor," he said. -"But soon you will be Lady Conniston." - -"And Alice will be Lady of the Manor," laughed Lucy. "Oh, by the way, -Mr. Durham, I forgot to tell you that Signor Tolomeo called at the Hall -yesterday. He thought Bernard was back, and came to thank him for his -allowing him an income." - -"I thought he had gone back to Italy," said Durham. - -"He is going next week, and talks of marriage." - -"I don't envy his wife," said Miss Berengaria, rising. "Girls, come into -the house to see that everything is prepared for our heroes." - -The girls laughed and tripped away. Durham left the garden and drove to -the station to fetch back Conniston and Bernard. They did not come by -that train, however, much to the disappointment of those at the Bower. -It was seven before they arrived, and then the three ladies came out to -meet them on the lawn. - -"Dear Alice," said Bernard, who had his arm in a sling, but otherwise -looked what Conniston called "fit!", "how glad I am to see you!" - -"And you, Lucy," said Conniston, taking his sweetheart in his arms. - -"Really," cried Miss Berengaria, while Durham stood by laughing, "it is -most perplexing to assist at the meeting of a quartette of lovers. Gore, -how are you? Conniston, your fever has pulled you down. I hope you have -both sown your wild oats and have come back to settle for good." - -"With the most charming of wives," said Dick, bowing. "We have." - -Miss Berengaria took Durham's arm. "I must look out a wife for you, -sir," she said, leading him to the house. "Come away and let the -turtle-doves coo alone. I expect dinner will be late." - -And dinner was late. Conniston, with Lucy on his arm, strolled away in -the twilight, but Bernard and Alice remained under the elm. When it grew -quite dusk a red light was seen shining from the window of the -drawing-room. Gore pointed it out. - -"That is the signal Lucy used to set in the window at the Hall to show -that all was well," he said, putting his unwounded arm round the girl, -"and now it gleams as a sign that there is a happy future for you and I, -dearest." - -"A red light is a danger signal," said Alice, laughing. - -"This is the exception that proves the rule," said Gore. "It once led me -into trouble, but now it shines upon me with my arms around you. Thank -Heaven that, after all our trouble, we are at last in smooth waters. -There's the gong for dinner." - -Alice laughed. "A prosaic ending to a pretty speech," she said. - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber note: - -Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of -the speakers. Those words were retained as-is. - -Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected -unless otherwise noted. - -On page 32, a quotation mark was added after "So as to keep Bernard -away,". - -On page 37, "Good-by" was replaced with "Good-bye". - -On page 39, "trees,and" was replaced with "trees, and". - -On page 44, a quotation mark was added before "Mr. Durham, we will see -now". - -On page 47, a quotation mark was added before "No! not at present." - -On page 48, "learnd" was replaced with "learned". - -On page 61, the single quotation mark was deleted in "'What do you -mean?". - -On page 65, "remembred" was replaced with "remembered". - -On page 65, "prespiration" was replaced with "perspiration". - -On page 71, "touhcing" was replaced with "touching". - -On page 73, an extraneous quotation mark was removed after "said Lucy." - -On page 79, "appeared it" was replaced with "appeared in". - -On page 95, "ten oclock" was replaced with "ten o'clock". - -On page 99, "I will recive" was replaced with "I will receive". - -On page 100, a quotation mark was added before "I go down to-night". - -On page 104, a period was removed after "BERNARD'S ENEMIES". - -On page 104, "that would sem" was replaced with "that would seem". - -On page 105, "in her spech" was replaced with "in her speech". - -On page 105, "behind him to tak" was replaced with "behind him to take". - -On page 106, "nohting" was replaced with "nothing". - -On page 109, "alloted" was replaced with "allotted". - -On page 112, a quotation mark was added before "With regard to the -commission". - -On page 112, "beenfit" was replaced with "benefit". - -On page 112, "innocnce" was replaced with "innocence". - -On page 116, "brought" was replaced with "bought". - -On page 119, a quotation mark was removed before "Where is he now?". - -On page 123, "Bit" was replaced with "Bite". - -On page 149, "rigns" was replaced with "rings". - -On page 147, "rougish" was replaced with "roguish". - -On page 152, the double quotation marks around "to my grandson." were -replaced with single quotation marks, and a double quotation mark was -added after the second single quotation mark. - -On page 156, "cheerful companion would do you good." was replaced with -"A cheerful companion would do you good." - -On page 160, a quotation mark was added after "Mrs. Moon." - -On page 163, "shouldres" was replaced with "shoulders". - -On page 166, "nieghborhood" was replaced with "neighborhood". - -On page 169, "Good Bye" was replaced with "Good-bye". - -On page 201, "michief" was replaced with "mischief". - -On page 224, a quotation mark was added before "What do you wish me -to do?". - -On page 233, a quotation mark was added before "I did not catch him -myself". - -On page 242, "The" was replaced with "Then". - -On page 249, "sadlly" was replaced with "sadly". - -On page 252, "woudln't" was replaced with "wouldn't". - -On page 253, "Berangaria" was replaced with "Berengaria". - -On page 263, "Hs" was replaced with "He". - -On page 264, "accesory" was replaced with "accessory". - -On page 266, a quotation mark was added before "I will confess". - -On page 268, a quotation mark was added after "administered". - -On page 269, a quotation mark was removed before "When the wire -was written". - -On page 285, a question mark was added after "my lord". - -On page 290, "sursender" was replaced with "surrender". - -On page 297, a quotation mark was added after "He has a right to his -father's name." - -On page 306, "I was late" was replaced with "It was late". - -On page 311, a period was added after "Mrs". - -On page 317, a comma was added before "how glad I am to see you!". - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED WINDOW*** - - -******* This file should be named 42056.txt or 42056.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/2/0/5/42056 - - - -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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