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diff --git a/42056-0.txt b/42056-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0945cf9 --- /dev/null +++ b/42056-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10459 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42056 *** + +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 _mésalliance_ in the family and--" + +"_Mésalliance?_" + +"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 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 +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 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." + +"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 _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 +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 _protégé_, 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 42056 *** |