Add files from ibiblio as of 2025-03-07 18:14:23HEADmain

1 files changed, 11389 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/43288-0.txt b/43288-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1f1e8c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/43288-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11389 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43288 ***
+
+                            THE THIRD VOLUME
+
+
+
+
+                            THE THIRD VOLUME
+
+                                   BY
+                              FERGUS HUME
+       _Author of "The Lone Inn," "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,"
+                        "The Chinese Jar," Etc._
+
+                                NEW YORK
+                       THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.
+                   31 EAST 17TH STREET (UNION SQUARE)
+
+
+
+
+                          COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY
+                              FERGUS HUME.
+
+                          COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY
+                       THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.
+
+                         _All rights reserved._
+
+                                              THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,
+                                                     RAHWAY, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+        Oh, mothers, wisely sang ye,
+          When oft we went astray,
+        "Ye weave the ropes to hang ye,
+          Ye forge the swords to slay."
+
+        The ropes we wove so gladly,
+          Have robbed us of our breath,
+        The swords we forged so madly,
+          Have smitten us to death.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+    CHAPTER                                                     PAGE
+
+        I. AN OLD FRIEND,       1
+
+       II. A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION,      10
+
+      III. THE REVELATION OF FRANCIS HILLISTON,                   19
+
+       IV. WHAT OCCURRED AT HORRISTON,                            27
+
+        V. A STRANGE COINCIDENCE,                                 37
+
+       VI. TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION,                        45
+
+      VII. "LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE,"                               52
+
+     VIII. BOTH SIDES OF THE QUESTION,                            61
+
+       IX. MRS. BEZEL,                                            67
+
+        X. A FEW FACTS CONNECTED WITH THE CASE,                   78
+
+       XI. A STARTLING DISCOVERY,                                 86
+
+      XII. REVELATIONS,                                           94
+
+     XIII. ON THE TRACK,                                         102
+
+      XIV. THE UPPER BOHEMIA,                                    109
+
+       XV. A POPULAR AUTHOR,                                     117
+
+      XVI. A FALSE MOVE,                                         124
+
+     XVII. THE HUSBAND AT KENSINGTON GORE,                       131
+
+    XVIII. A DUEL OF WORDS,                                      138
+
+      XIX. TAIT BRINGS NEWS,                                     147
+
+       XX. A PRÉCIS OF THE CASE,                                 154
+
+      XXI. THORSTON,                                             160
+
+     XXII. IN THE CHURCH,                                        168
+
+    XXIII. FACT AND FICTION,                                     175
+
+     XXIV. A NEW SUSPICION,                                      182
+
+      XXV. THE RECLUSE,                                          192
+
+     XXVI. AN OLD SERVANT,                                       200
+
+    XXVII. A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST,                                210
+
+   XXVIII. PREPARING THE GROUND,                                 220
+
+     XXIX. KERRY,                                                228
+
+      XXX. MRS. BEZEL AGAIN,                                     235
+
+     XXXI. AN EVENING AT THE VICARAGE,                           241
+
+    XXXII. THE DISCOVERIES OF SPENSER TAIT,                      249
+
+   XXXIII. THE STORY OF THE MAD GARDENER,                        258
+
+    XXXIV. A LETTER FROM HORRISTON,                              268
+
+     XXXV. THE ORIGINAL OF THE PORTRAIT,                         275
+
+    XXXVI. A STRANGE THING HAPPENS,                              282
+
+   XXXVII. A VOICE FROM THE DEAD,                                290
+
+  XXXVIII. A NEW ASPECT OF THINGS,                               299
+
+    XXXIX. THE GARNET SCARFPIN,                                  306
+
+       XL. FACE TO FACE,                                         314
+
+      XLI. AN EXPLANATION,                                       321
+
+     XLII. THE TRAGEDY OF A WOMAN'S VANITY,                      329
+
+    XLIII. THE LAST APPEARANCE OF FRANCIS HILLISTON,             336
+
+     XLIV. THE TRUTH,                                            343
+
+      XLV. A FEW WORDS BY SPENSER TAIT,                          351
+
+
+
+
+                           THE THIRD VOLUME.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+                             AN OLD FRIEND.
+
+
+WHEN Spenser Tait took his seat at the breakfast table, he cast a look
+around, according to custom, to see that all was as orderly as he could
+wish. The neatest and most methodical of men, he was positively old
+maidish in his love of regularity and tidiness. His valet, Dormer,--with
+him for over fifteen years,--had been trained by such long service into
+the particular ways of his master, and was almost as exacting as Tait
+himself in the matter of domestic details. No woman was permitted to
+penetrate into those chambers in Earls Street, St. James'; but had one
+been able to do so, she could have found no fault with them, either on
+the score of taste or of cleanliness. The shell of this hermit crab was
+eloquent of the idiosyncrasies of its tenant.
+
+The main characteristic of the breakfast room was one of severe
+simplicity. The carpet of green drappled brown, the curtains to match,
+and the furniture of oak, polished and dark. On the white cloth of the
+table an appetizing breakfast was set out in silver and china, and a
+vase of flowers showed that the little gentleman was not unmindful of
+the requirements of an artistic temperament. Even the _Times_, carefully
+cut and warmed, was neatly folded by the silver ringed napkin, and
+Dormer, standing stiff and lean by his master's chair, was calmly
+satisfied that no fault could be found with his work. For the past
+fifteen years, save on occasions of foreign travel, the same etiquette
+had been observed, the same actions performed, for, like the laws of the
+Medes and Persians, the habits of Tait were fixed and determined.
+
+He was a pleasant creature of thirty-four years, small in stature,
+clean-shaven and brown-locked. His plump little body was clothed in a
+well-brushed smoking suit of maroon-colored cloth, his neat feet encased
+in slippers of red morocco, and he scanned the room through a
+gold-mounted pince nez. Neat and firm as he was, women did not care for
+him in the least, and he returned the compliment by heartily disliking
+the female sex. Yet with men he was a great favorite, and the members of
+his club liked to hear the sententious speeches of this little man,
+delivered with point and deliberation in the smoking room from eleven
+till midnight. When the clock struck twelve he invariably went to bed,
+and no persuasion or temptation could induce him to break this excellent
+rule.
+
+Dormer, a tall, thin man of Kent, who adored his precise master, was
+equally as misogynistic as Tait, and silent on all occasions save when
+spoken to. Then he replied in dry monosyllables, and stood bolt upright
+during such replies, in a military fashion, which he had picked up many
+years before in the army. Tait humored his oddities on account of his
+fidelity, knowing that this ugly, rough-hewn specimen of humanity was as
+true as steel, and entirely devoted to his interests. Nowadays it is
+unusual to meet with such equal appreciation between master and servant.
+
+"I think, Dormer," said Tait, while the man ministered to his wants,
+"that you might call at Mudie's this morning and get me a copy of the
+new novel, 'A Whim of Fate,' by John Parver. I heard last night that it
+contained a description of Thorston."
+
+"Very good, sir," replied Dormer, noting the name in his pocketbook.
+
+"And take a seat for me at the Curtain Theater, in the fifth row of the
+stalls, not too near the side."
+
+"Anything else, sir?"
+
+"I think not," said his master, taking a morsel of toast. "I am going
+down to Richmond by the twelve o'clock train to luncheon with Mr. Freak.
+Lay out the serge suit."
+
+Dormer saluted in a military fashion, and disappeared, leaving Tait to
+skim the paper and finish his breakfast. Methodical as ever, the little
+man first read the leading articles, thence passed to the city news,
+perused the general information, and wound up with a glance at the
+advertisements. In such order he ever proceeded, and never by any chance
+thought of beginning with the advertisements and working back to the
+leading article. Habit was everything with Spenser Tait.
+
+As usual, his day's programme was carefully sketched out, and he knew
+what he was about to do with every moment of his time from noon till
+midnight. But his plans on this special day were upset at the outset,
+for scarcely had he lighted his morning pipe than the door was thrown
+open and a visitor was announced.
+
+"Mr. Larcher," said Dormer stiffly, and ushered in a tall young man with
+a bright face and a breezy manner.
+
+"Hullo, little Tait!" cried the newcomer, hastily striding across the
+room; "here I am again. Come from wandering up and down the earth, sir,
+like a certain person whom I need not mention."
+
+"Dear me," said Tait, welcoming his guest with prim kindliness, "it is
+Claude Larcher. I am very glad to see you, my dear fellow, and rather
+surprised; for I assure you I thought you were at the Antipodes."
+
+"I have just returned from that quarter of the globe. Yes! Landed at the
+docks yesterday from one of the Shaw-Saville line. Had a capital passage
+from New Zealand. Sea like a mill-pond from Wellington Heads to the
+Lizard."
+
+"Have you had breakfast, Larcher?" asked Tait, touching the bell.
+
+"A trifle! A trifle! I could eat another. What have you? Bacon and eggs,
+watercress, coffee, and the best of bread and butter. Egad, Spenser, you
+had the same victuals two years ago when I last called here!"
+
+"I am a creature of habit, Claude," replied Tait sententiously; and when
+Dormer made his appearance gave grave directions for fresh coffee and
+another dish of eggs and bacon.
+
+Larcher drew in his chair, and with his elbows on the table eyed the
+little man with friendly eyes. They were old schoolfellows and fast
+friends, though a greater contrast than that which existed between them
+can scarcely be imagined. Tait, a prim, chilly misogynist; Larcher, a
+hot-blooded, impetuous lover of women. The one a stay-at-home, and a
+slave to habit; the other a roaming engineer, careless and impulsive.
+Yet by some vein of sympathy the pair, so unlike in looks and
+temperament, were exceedingly friendly, and always glad to meet when
+circumstance threw them together. Such friendship, based on no logical
+grounds, was a standing contradiction to the rule that like draws to
+like.
+
+It was scarcely to be expected that a well-favored mortal like Larcher
+should share his friend's distaste for the female sex. Far from
+disliking them, he sought them on all possible occasions, oftentimes to
+his own disadvantage; and was generally involved in some scrape
+connected with a petticoat. Tait, who was the older of the two by five
+years, vainly exhorted and warned his friend against such follies, but
+as yet his arguments had come to naught. At the age of thirty, Larcher
+was still as inflammable, and answered all Tait's expostulations with a
+laugh of scorn.
+
+It was easy to dower this hero with all the perfections, physical or
+mental, which lie within the scope of imagination, but the truth must be
+told at whatever cost. Claude was no Greek god, no prodigy of learning,
+neither an Apollo for looks, nor an Admirable Crichton for knowledge; he
+was simply a well-looking young man, clean-limbed, clear-skinned,
+healthy, athletic, and dauntless, such as can be found by the dozen in
+England. Thews and sinews he had, but was no Samson or Hercules, yet his
+strong frame and easy grace won the heart of many a woman, while with
+his own sex he passed for a true comrade, and a friend worth having.
+
+He was an engineer, and built bridges and railways in divers quarters of
+the globe, pioneering civilization, as it were, in the most barbarous
+regions.
+
+For the past ten years he had roamed all over the world, and his
+adventures, begotten by a daring and reckless spirit, were already
+sufficient to fill a volume. Master of at least half a dozen tongues, he
+could find his way from the tropics to the pole, and was equally at home
+on the prairie as in Piccadilly. Indeed, he preferred the former, for
+civilization was little to his taste, and he was infinitely more at ease
+in Pekin than London. North and South America, Africa, China, India, he
+knew them all, and on this occasion had returned from a prolonged
+sojourn in the Antipodes, where he had been building bridges across
+rapid New Zealand rivers.
+
+"Well, my friend," said he, addressing himself to a second meal with a
+hearty appetite, "I need not ask how you are. The same prim, finnicking
+little mortal as ever, I see. Five years have made no difference in you,
+Spenser. You've not married, I suppose?"
+
+"Not I," returned Tait, with stormy disgust. "You know my views on the
+subject of matrimony. You might go away for one hundred years and would
+return to find me still a bachelor. But you, Claude----"
+
+"Oh, I'm still in the market. I wasn't rich enough for the New Zealand
+belles."
+
+"Eh! You have five hundred a year, independent of your earnings as an
+engineer."
+
+"What is the use of setting up house on a thousand a year all told,"
+retorted Claude coolly; "but the fact is, despite my inflammability,
+which you are pleased to reproach, I have not yet seen the woman I care
+to make Mrs. Larcher."
+
+"Perhaps it is just as well for the woman," answered Tait dryly. "I
+don't think you are cut out for a domestic life."
+
+"I have had no experience of it, so I can't say," said Larcher, a shade
+passing over his face. "You must not forget that I was left an orphan at
+five years of age, Tait. If it had not been for old Hilliston, the
+lawyer, who looked after me and my small fortune, I don't know what
+would have become of me. All things considering, I think I have turned
+out fairly decent. I have worked hard at my profession, I have not spent
+my substance in riotous living, and have seen much more of life than
+most young men. All of which is self-praise, and that we know being no
+recommendation, give me another cup of coffee."
+
+Tait laughed and obeyed. "What are you going to do now?" he demanded,
+after a pause; "stay in town, or make another dash for the wilds?"
+
+"I'll be here for a few months, till something turns up," said Larcher
+carelessly. "I did very well out of that Maori land business, and bought
+some land there with the proceeds. I suppose I'll go and look up Mr.
+Hilliston, see all the theaters, worry you, and hunt for a wife."
+
+"I shan't assist you in the last," retorted Tait, testily. "However, as
+you are here you must stay with me for the day. What are your immediate
+plans?"
+
+"Oh, I wish to call at the club and see if there are any letters! Then I
+am at your disposal, unless you have a prior engagement."
+
+"I have a luncheon at Richmond, but I'll put that off. It is not very
+important, and a wire will arrange matters. Finish your breakfast while
+I dress."
+
+"Go, you effete dandy of an exhausted civilization. I saw you looking at
+my rig-out, and I dare say it is very bad. It has been packed away for
+the last five years. However, you can take me to your tailor and I'll
+get a fresh outfit. You won't walk down Bond Street with me unless I
+assume a tall hat, patent leathers, and a frock coat."
+
+"Oh, by the way, would you like to go to the Curtain Theater to-night?"
+asked Tait, vouchsafing no reply to this speech. "They are playing a
+good piece, and I sent for a seat for myself."
+
+"You selfish little man; just send for two while you're about it."
+
+"With pleasure," replied Tait, who permitted Larcher more freedom of
+speech than he did any other of his friends. "I won't be more than ten
+minutes dressing."
+
+"Very good! I'll smoke a pipe during your absence, and see with what
+further fribbles you have adorned your rooms. Then we'll go to the club,
+and afterward to the tailor's. I don't suppose my letters will detain me
+long."
+
+In this Larcher was wrong, for his letters detained him longer than he
+expected. This opened the way to a new course of life, of which at that
+moment he knew nothing. Laughing and jesting in his friend's rooms,
+heart-whole and untrammeled, he little knew what Fortune had in store
+for him on that fateful morning. It is just as well that the future is
+hidden from men, else they would hardly go forward with so light a step
+to face juries. Hitherto Larcher's life had been all sunshine, but now
+darknesses were rising above the horizon, and these letters, to which he
+so lightly alluded, were the first warnings of the coming storm.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+                      A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION.
+
+
+THE ATHENIAN CLUB was the most up-to-date thing of its kind in London.
+Although it had been established over eight years it was as new as on
+the day of its creation, and not only kept abreast of the times, but in
+many instances went ahead of them. The Athenians of old time were always
+crying out for something new; and their prototypes of London, following
+in their footsteps, formed a body of men who were ever on the look-out
+for novelty. Hence the name of this club, which adopted for its motto
+the classic cry, "Give us something new," and acted well up to the
+saying. The Athenian Club was the pioneer of everything.
+
+It would take a long time to recount the vagaries for which this coterie
+had been responsible. If one more daring spirit than the rest invented a
+new thing or reinstated on old one, his fellows followed like a flock of
+intelligent sheep and wore the subject threadbare, till some more
+startling theory initiated a new movement. The opinion of the club took
+its color from the prevailing "fad" of the hour, and indeed many of the
+aforesaid "fads" were invented in its smoke room. It should have been
+called "The Ephemeral Club," from the rapidity with which its fanciers
+rose to popularity and vanished into obscurity.
+
+After all, such incessant novelty is rather fatiguing. London is the
+most exhausting city in the world in which to live. From all quarters of
+the globe news is pouring in, every street is crowded with life and
+movement; the latest ideas of civilization here ripen to completion. It
+is impossible to escape from the contagion of novelty; it is in the air.
+Information salutes one at every turn; it pours from the mouths of men;
+it thrusts itself before the eye in countless daily and weekly
+newspapers; it clicks from every telegraph wire, until the brain is
+wearied with the flood of ephemeral knowledge. All this plethora of
+intellectual life was concentrated in the narrow confines of the
+Athenian Club House. No wonder its members complained of news.
+
+"What is the prevailing passion with the Athenian at present?" asked
+Larcher as he stepped briskly along Piccadilly beside Tait.
+
+"The New Literature!"
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Upon my word, I can hardly tell you," replied Tait, after some
+cogitation. "It is a kind of impressionist school, I fancy. Those who
+profess to lead it insist upon works having no plot, and no action, or
+no dramatic situations. Their idea of a work is for a man and
+woman--both vaguely denominated 'he' and 'she'--to talk to one another
+through a few hundred pages. Good Lord, how they do talk, and all about
+their own feelings, their own woes, their own troubles, their own
+infernal egotisms! The motto of 'The New Literature' should be 'Talk!
+talk! talk!' for it consists of nothing else."
+
+"Why not adopt Hamlet's recitation," suggested Larcher laughingly,
+"'Words! words! words!'"
+
+"Oh, 'The New Literature' wants nothing from the past! Not even a
+quotation," said Tait tartly. "Woman--the new woman--is greatly to the
+fore in this latest fancy. She writes about neurotic members of her own
+sex, and calls men bad names every other page. The subjects mostly
+discussed in the modern novel by the modern woman, are the regeneration
+of the world by woman, the failure of the male to bridle his appetites,
+and the beginning of the millennium which will come when women get their
+own way."
+
+"Haven't they got their own way now?"
+
+"I should think so. I don't know what further freedom they want. We live
+in a world of petticoats nowadays. Women pervade everything like
+microbes. And they are such worrying creatures," pursued Tait
+plaintively, "they don't take things calmly like men do, but talk and
+rage and go into hysterics every other minute. If this sort of thing
+goes on I shall retire with Dormer to an uninhabited island."
+
+"It is easily seen that you are not a friend to the new movement," said
+Larcher, with a smile, "but here we are. Wait in the smoke room, like a
+good fellow, while I see after my correspondence."
+
+"You will find me in the writing room," replied Tait. "I have lost my
+morning pipe, and do not intend to smoke any more till after luncheon."
+
+"I don't believe you're a man, Tait, but a clockwork figure wound up to
+act in the same manner at the same moment. And you are such a horribly
+vulgar piece of mechanism."
+
+Tait laughed, gratified by this tribute to his methodical habits, so,
+leaving Larcher to see after his letters, he vanished into the writing
+room. Here he wrote an apologetic telegram to his friend Freak, and sent
+it off so that it might reach that gentleman before he started for
+Richmond. Then he scribbled a few notes on various trifling matters of
+business which called for immediate attention, and having thus disposed
+of his cares, ensconced himself in a comfortable armchair to wait for
+Claude.
+
+In a few minutes Larcher made his appearance with a puzzled expression
+on his face, and two open letters in his hand. Taking a seat close to
+that of Tait, he at once began to explain that the news contained in the
+letters was the cause of the expression aforesaid.
+
+"My other letters are nothing to speak of," said he, when seated, "but
+these two fairly puzzle me. Number one is from Mr. Hilliston, asking me
+to call; the other is from a Margaret Bezel, with a similar request. Now
+I know Mr. Hilliston as guardian, lawyer, and banker, but who is
+Margaret Bezel?"
+
+Tait shook his wise little head. Well-informed as he was in several
+matters, he had never heard of Margaret Bezel.
+
+"She lives at Hampstead, I see," continued Claude, referring to the
+letter. "Clarence Cottage, Hunt Lane. That is somewhere in the vicinity
+of Jack Straw's Castle. I wonder who she is, and why she wants to see
+me."
+
+"You have never heard of her?" asked Tait dubiously. He was never quite
+satisfied with Larcher's connections with the weaker sex.
+
+"Certainly not," replied the other, with some heat. "If I had I would
+assuredly remember so odd a name. Bezel! Bezel! Something to do with a
+ring, isn't it?"
+
+"It might have something to do with a wedding ring," said Tait, with a
+grim smile. "The lady may have matrimonial designs on you."
+
+"Bah! She may be a washerwoman for all you know, or a wife, or a widow,
+or Heaven only knows what. But that is not the queerest part of the
+affair, for Mr. Hilliston----But here, read the lady's letter first, the
+gentleman's next, and tell me what you think of them. Upon my word, I
+can make neither top nor tail of the business!"
+
+                         (_The First Letter._)
+
+                                                "April 18, 1892.
+    "DEAR SIR: Will you be so kind as to call and see me at Clarence
+    Cottage, Hunt Lane, Hampstead, as I have an important
+    communication to make to you regarding your parents.
+                                    "Yours truly,
+                                               "MARGARET BEZEL."
+
+                         (_The Second Letter._)
+
+                           "LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, June 10, 1892.
+    "DEAR CLAUDE: Call and see me here as soon as you arrive in
+    town, and should you receive a communication from one Margaret
+    Bezel, bring it with you. On no account see the lady before you
+    have an interview with me. This matter is more important than
+    you know of, and will be duly explained by me when you call.
+
+                                    "Yours sincerely,
+                                            "FRANCIS HILLISTON."
+
+Tait read these two letters carefully, pinched his chin reflectively,
+and looked at Claude in a rather anxious manner.
+
+"Well, sir," said the latter impatiently, "what is your opinion?"
+
+Tait's opinion was given in one word, and that not of the nicest
+meaning.
+
+"Blackmail."
+
+"Blackmail!" repeated Larcher, taken aback, as well he might be. "What
+do you mean?"
+
+"I may be wrong," said Tait apologetically, "but this is the only
+conclusion to which I can come. I read the matter this way: Margaret
+Bezel knows something about your parents, and wishes to reveal it to
+you, possibly on condition that you pay her a sum of money. Hilliston
+evidently knows that such is her intention, and wishes to put you on
+your guard. Hence he asks you to see him before you accept the
+invitation of the lady."
+
+"H'm! This is feasible enough. But what possible communication can this
+woman be likely to make to me which would involve blackmail. My parents
+both died when I was four years of age. She can't have any evil to say
+of them after twenty-five years."
+
+"You must question Hilliston as to that," replied Tait, shrugging his
+shoulders. "I think you ought to see him this afternoon. He knows you
+are in town. I suppose?"
+
+"I wrote from Wellington to tell him that I was returning in the
+_Kailargatin_," said Claude, glancing at the letter. "He must have been
+informed by the paper of her arrival yesterday, for this note is dated
+the same day. To-day is the eleventh."
+
+"But surely Hilliston knew you would call as soon as you arrived?"
+
+"He might be certain that I would do so within the week, at all events,"
+answered Larcher reflectively. "That is what makes his letter the more
+puzzling. The matter must be very urgent when he demands an immediate
+interview."
+
+"I am certain he wishes to forestall this lady," said Tait, picking up
+the letter of Margaret Bezel. "She, at all events, knows nothing of your
+movements, for the note is dated the 10th of April, when you were in New
+Zealand."
+
+"Humph! It is very odd, Tait."
+
+"It is extremely odd, and too important to be neglected. Call on Mr.
+Hilliston this afternoon, and send him a wire now to make an
+appointment."
+
+"I hope I am not going to have a bad quarter of an hour," observed
+Claude, as he wrote out the telegram. The mystery of the matter ruffled
+his usual serenity.
+
+"I sincerely trust you are not," replied the other, touching the bell
+for the waiter; "but I must say I do not like the look of those two
+epistles."
+
+The telegram was duly dispatched, and after a few more conjectures as to
+the motive of the communications, Larcher went upstairs to luncheon with
+his friend. Halfway through the meal he was struck with an idea.
+
+"Margaret Bezel must be old, Tait."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"If she knows anything of my parents she must have been their friend or
+servant, and as they died twenty-five years ago she can be no chicken."
+
+"True enough! But don't go out and meet your troubles halfway, Claude.
+It will be time enough to worry should Hilliston give you bad news. By
+the way, I suppose you'll stay with him to-night?"
+
+"No doubt. He has bought a new house in Kensington Gore, and wishes me
+to have a look at it. I shall be glad to see his wife again. Dear old
+lady, she has been a second mother to me, and he like a father."
+
+"And I like a brother," interposed Tait, laughing. "As a lonely orphan
+you have to depend upon public charity for your relatives. But talking
+about new houses, you must see mine."
+
+"What! Are you a householder?"
+
+"A householder, not a landed proprietor," said Tait, with pride. "I have
+purchased an old Manor House and a few acres at Thorston, about eight
+miles from Eastbourne. You must come down and see it. I have just had it
+furnished and put in order. A week or so there will do you good, and
+give me much pleasure."
+
+"I shall be delighted to come," said Larcher hastily, "that is, if there
+is no troublesome business to detain me in London."
+
+"Well, you will know shortly. After all, Hilliston may give you good
+news, instead of bad."
+
+"Bah! You don't believe that, Tait."
+
+"I don't indeed! But I am trying to comfort you."
+
+"After the fashion of Job's friends," retorted Claude promptly. "Well,
+you may be right, for I do not like the look of things myself. However,
+I must take bad fortune along with good. Hitherto all has gone well with
+me, and I sincerely trust this letter from Margaret Bezel is not a
+forerunner of trouble."
+
+"Should it be so, you will always have at least one friend to stand by
+you."
+
+"Thank you, Tait," replied Larcher, grasping the outstretched hand.
+"Should the time come for testing your friendship, I shall have no
+hesitation in putting it to the proof. And the time is coming," added
+he, tapping the pocket which held the letter, "of that I am certain."
+
+"What about our theater to-night?" demanded Tait dubiously.
+
+"It all depends on my interview with Hilliston."
+
+Tait said nothing at the moment, and shortly afterward they parted,
+Larcher to seek his guardian in Lincoln's Inn Fields, Tait to return to
+his chambers.
+
+"Humph!" said the latter thoughtfully, "there will be no theater for us
+to-night. I don't like the look of things at all. The deuce take
+Margaret Bezel!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+                  THE REVELATION OF FRANCIS HILLISTON.
+
+
+ONCE upon a time popular imagination pictured a lawyer as a cadaverous
+creature, arrayed in rusty black, with bulging blue-bag, and dry
+forensic lore on his tongue. So was the child of Themis represented in
+endless Adelphia farces; and his moral nature, as conceived by the
+ingenious playwright, was even less inviting than his exterior. He was a
+scamp, a rogue, a compiler of interminable bills, an exactor of the last
+shilling, a legal _Shylock_, hard-fisted and avaricious. To a great
+extent this type is a thing of the past, for your latter-day lawyer is
+an alert, well-dressed personage, social and amiable. Still he is looked
+on with awe as a dispenser of justice,--very often of injustice,--and
+not all the fine raiment in the world can rob him of his ancient
+reputation: when he was a dread being to the dwellers of Grub Street,
+who mostly had the task of limning his portrait, and so impartial
+revenge pictured him as above.
+
+All of which preamble leads up to the fact that Francis Hilliston was a
+lawyer of the new school, despite his sixty and more years. In
+appearance he was not unlike a farmer, and indeed owned a few arable
+acres in Kent, where he played the rôle of a modern Cincinnatus. There
+he affected rough clothing and an interest in agricultural subjects, but
+in town in his Lincoln's Inn Fields' office he was solemnly arrayed in a
+frock coat with other garments to match, and conveyed into his twinkling
+eyes an expression of dignified learning. He was a different man in
+London to what he was in Kent, and was a kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
+for moral transformations. On this special occasion frock-coated
+legality was uppermost.
+
+Yet he unbent for a moment or so when receiving Claude Larcher, for
+childless himself, the young man was to him a very Absalom; and he loved
+him with an affection truly paternal. No one can have the conduct of a
+child up to the age of twenty--at which period Claude made his _début_
+in the engineering world, without feeling a tugging at the heart
+strings. Had Larcher been indeed his son, and he a father in place of a
+guardian, he could have scarcely received the young man more warmly, or
+have welcomed him with more heartfelt affection.
+
+But the first outburst over, and Claude duly greeted and seated in a
+convenient chair, Mr. Hilliston recurred to his legal stiffness, and,
+with no smile on his lips, sat eyeing his visitor. He had an awkward
+conversation before him, and was mentally wondering as to the best way
+of breaking the ice. Claude spared him the trouble by at once plunging
+headlong into the subject of Margaret Bezel and her mysterious letter.
+
+"Here you are, sir," said he, handing it to his guardian. "I have
+brought the letter of this woman with me as you wished, and I have also
+abstained from seeing her in accordance with your desire."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Hilliston, skimming the letter with a legal eye, "I
+thought she would write."
+
+"Do you know her, sir?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said the other dryly. "I know her. But," he added after a
+thoughtful pause, "I have not set eyes on her for at least
+five-and-twenty years."
+
+"Twenty-five years," repeated Claude, thoughtful in his turn. "It was
+about that time I came into your house."
+
+Hilliston looked up sharply, as though conceiving that the remark was
+made with intention, but satisfied that it was not from the absent
+expression in Larcher's face, he resumed his perusal of the letter and
+commented thereon.
+
+"What do you think of this communication, Claude?"
+
+"I don't know what to think," replied the young man promptly. "I confess
+I am curious to know why this woman wishes to see me. Who is she?"
+
+"A widow lady with a small income."
+
+"Does she know anything of my family?"
+
+"Why do you ask that?" demanded Hilliston sharply, and, as it seemed to
+Claude, a trifle uneasily.
+
+"Well, as I am a stranger to her, she cannot wish to see me on any
+personal matter, sir. And as you mention that you have not seen her for
+five-and-twenty years, about which time my parents died, I naturally
+thought----"
+
+"That I had some object in asking you not to see her?"
+
+"Well, yes."
+
+"You are a man of experience now, Claude," said Hilliston, with apparent
+irrelevance, "and have been all over the world. Consequently you know
+that life is full of--trouble."
+
+"I believe so; but hitherto no trouble has come my way."
+
+"You might expect that it would come sooner or later, Claude. It has
+come now."
+
+"Indeed!" said Larcher, in a joking tone. "Am I about to lose my small
+income of five hundred a year?"
+
+"No, that is safe enough!" answered Hilliston abruptly, rising to his
+feet. "The trouble of which I speak will not affect your material
+welfare. Indeed, if you are a hardened man of the world, as you might
+be, it need affect you very little in any case. You are not responsible
+for the sins of a former generation, and as you hardly remember your
+parents, cannot have any sympathy with their worries."
+
+"I certainly remember very little of my parents, sir," said Larcher,
+moved by the significance of this speech. "Yet I have a faint memory of
+two faces. One a dark, handsome face, with kind eyes, the other a
+beautiful, fair countenance."
+
+"Your father and mother, Claude."
+
+"Yes. So much I remember of them. But what have they to do with Margaret
+Bezel--or Mrs. Bezel, as I suppose she is called? Why does she want to
+see me?"
+
+"To tell you a story which I prefer to relate myself."
+
+"About whom?"
+
+"About your parents."
+
+"But they are dead!"
+
+"Yes," said Hilliston, "they are dead."
+
+He walked about the room, opened a box, and took out a roll of papers,
+yellow with age. These were neatly tied up with red tape and inscribed
+"The Larcher Affair." Placing them on the table before him, Hilliston
+resumed his seat, and looked steadfastly at his ward. Claude, vaguely
+aware that some unpleasant communication was about to be made to him,
+sat silently waiting the words of ill omen, and his naturally fresh
+color faded to a dull white with apprehension.
+
+"I have always loved you like a son, Claude," said Hilliston solemnly,
+"ever since you came to my house, a tiny boy of five. It has been my aim
+to educate you well, to advance your interests, to make you happy, and
+above all," added the lawyer, lowering his voice, "to keep the contents
+of these papers secret from you."
+
+Claude said nothing, though Hilliston paused to enable him to speak, but
+sat waiting further explanation.
+
+"I thought the past was dead and buried," resumed his guardian, in a low
+voice. "So far as I can see it is foolish to rake up old scandals--old
+crimes."
+
+"Crimes!" said Claude, rising involuntarily to his feet.
+
+"Crimes," repeated Hilliston sadly. "The time has come when you must
+know the truth about your parents. The woman who wrote this letter has
+been silent for five-and-twenty years. Now, for some reason with which I
+am unacquainted, she is determined to see you and reveal all. A few
+months ago she called here to tell me so. I implored her to keep silent,
+pointing out that no good could come of acquainting you with bygone
+evils; but she refused to listen to me, and left this office with the
+full intention of finding you out, and making her revelation."
+
+"But I have been in New Zealand."
+
+"She did not know that, nor did I tell her," said Hilliston grimly; "in
+fact, I refused to give her your address, but she is not the woman to be
+easily beaten, as I well know. I guessed she would find out the name of
+your club and write to you there, therefore I sent that letter to you so
+as to counter-plot the creature. I expected that you would find a letter
+from her at your club on your arrival. I was right. Here is the letter.
+She has succeeded so far, but I have managed to checkmate her by
+obtaining the first interview with you. Should you call on her,--and
+after reading these papers I have little doubt but that you will do
+so,--she will be able to tell you nothing new. I cannot crush the viper,
+but at least I can draw its fangs."
+
+"You speak hardly of this woman, sir."
+
+"I have reason to," said Hilliston quietly. "But for this woman your
+father would still be alive."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that your father, George Larcher, was murdered!"
+
+"Murdered!"
+
+"Yes! Murdered at Horriston, in Kent, in the year 1866."
+
+Stunned by this information, which he was far from expecting, Claude
+sank down in his chair with a look of horror on his face, while
+Hilliston spoke rapidly.
+
+"I have kept this secret all these years because I did not want your
+young life to be shadowed by the knowledge of your father's fate. But
+now Mrs. Bezel intends to tell you the truth, and will give you a
+garbled version of the same, making herself out a martyr. I must be
+beforehand with her, and I wish you to take those papers, and read the
+account of the case which ended in the acquittal of your mother."
+
+"My mother! Acquitted! Do you mean----"
+
+"I mean that Mrs. Larcher was accused of the murder of her husband, and
+was tried and acquitted."
+
+"Great Heavens! But she is now dead?"
+
+"I say no more," said Hilliston, evading a direct reply. "You will know
+the truth when you read these papers."
+
+Larcher mechanically took the packet held out to him, and placed it in
+his pocket. Then he rose to go. A thousand questions were on the tip of
+his tongue, but he dare not ask one. It would be better, he thought, to
+learn the truth from the papers, in place of hearing it from the lips of
+Francis Hilliston, who might, for all he knew, give as garbled a version
+of the affair as Mrs. Bezel. Hilliston guessed his thoughts, and
+approved of the unspoken decision.
+
+"I think you are right," he said, with deliberation; "it is best that
+you should learn the truth in that way. When you have read those papers
+come and see me about them."
+
+"One moment, sir! Who killed my father?"
+
+"I cannot say! Your mother was suspected and proved innocent. A friend
+of your father was also suspected and----"
+
+"And proved innocent?"
+
+"No! He was never arrested--he was never tried. He vanished on the night
+of the murder and has not been heard of since. Now, I can tell you no
+more. Go and read the papers, Claude."
+
+Larcher took up his hat and hurried toward the door in a mechanical
+manner. There he paused.
+
+"Does Mrs. Bezel know the truth?"
+
+Hilliston, arranging the papers on the table, looked up with a face
+which had unexpectedly grown gray and old.
+
+"Yes!" he said quickly. "I think Mrs. Bezel knows the 'truth.'"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+                      WHAT OCCURRED AT HORRISTON.
+
+
+AFTER that fatal interview Claude went neither to the house at
+Kensington Gore nor to the chambers of his friend Tait. With the papers
+given to him by Hilliston in his pocket, he repaired to a quiet hotel in
+Jermyn Street, where he was well-known, and there secured a bedroom for
+the night. A wire speedily brought his luggage from the railway station,
+and thus being settled for the moment, he proceeded to acquaint himself
+with the tragedy of his parents' lives.
+
+It was some time before he could make up his mind to read the papers,
+and, dreading the disagreeable relation, he put off the perusal till
+such time as he retired to bed. A note dispatched to the Club intimated
+to Tait that the second seat at the Curtain Theater would be unoccupied,
+and then Claude tried to rid himself of distracting thoughts by a rapid
+walk in the Park. So do men dally with the inevitable, and vainly
+attempt to stay the march of Fate.
+
+Dinner was a mere farce with the young man, for he could neither eat nor
+drink, and afterward he dawdled about the smoke room, putting off the
+reading of the papers as long as he could. A superstitious feeling of
+coming evil withheld him from immediately learning the truth; and it was
+not until the clock struck ten that he summoned up sufficient courage to
+repair to his bedroom.
+
+With the papers spread out on a small table, he sat down at half-past
+ten, reading by the light of a single candle. A second and a third were
+needed before he arose from his chair, and the gray dawn was glimmering
+through the window blinds as he laid down the last sheet. Then his face
+was as gray as the light spreading over street and house, for he knew
+that his dead father had been foully murdered, and that his dead mother
+had been morally, if not legally, guilty of the crime. The tragedy--a
+strange mixture of the sordid and the romantic--took place at Horriston,
+in Kent, in the year 1866, and the following are the main facts, as
+exhibited by the provincial press:
+
+In the year 1860 George Larcher and his wife came to settle at
+Horriston, attracted thereto by the romantic beauty of the scenery and
+the cheerful society of that rising watering-place. Since that time
+Horriston, after a feeble struggle for supremacy, has succumbed to
+powerful rivals, and is once more a sleepy little provincial town,
+unknown to invalid or doctor. But when Mr. and Mrs. Larcher settled
+there it was a popular resort for visitors from all quarters of the
+three kingdoms, and the young couple were extremely liked by the gay
+society which filled the town. For five years they lived there, but
+during the sixth occurred the tragedy which slew the husband, and placed
+the wife in the dock.
+
+The antecedents of the pair were irreproachable in every respect. He was
+a fairly rich man of thirty-five, who, holding a commission in the army,
+had met with his wife--then Miss Barker--at Cheltenham. She was a
+beautiful girl, fond of dress and gayety, the belle of her native town,
+and the greatest flirt of the country side. Handsome George Larcher, in
+all the bravery of martial trappings, came like the young prince of the
+fairy tale, and carried off the beauty from all rivals. She, knowing him
+to be rich, seeing him to be handsome, and aware that he was
+well-connected, accepted his hand, and so they were married, to the
+great discomfiture of many sighing swains. There was love on his side at
+least, but whether Julia Barker returned that passion in any great
+degree it is hard to say. The provincial reporter hinted that a prior
+attachment had engaged her heart, and though she married Larcher for his
+money, and looks, and position, yet she only truly loved one man--one
+Mark Jeringham, who afterward figured in the tragedy at Horriston.
+
+To all outward appearance Captain and Mrs. Larcher were a pattern
+couple, and popular with military and civil society. Then, in obedience
+to the wish of his wife, George Larcher sold out, and within a few
+months of their marriage they came to live at Horriston. Here they took
+a house known as The Laurels, which was perched on a cliff of moderate
+height, overlooking the river Sarway; and proceeded to entertain the gay
+society of the neighborhood. One son was born to them a year after they
+took up their abode at The Laurels, and he was five years of age when
+the tragedy took place which caused the death of his parent. Claude had
+no difficulty in recognizing himself as the orphan so pathetically
+alluded to by the flowery provincial reporter.
+
+The household of George Larcher consisted of six servants, among whom
+two were particularly interesting. The one was the captain's valet,
+Denis Bantry, an Irish soldier in the same regiment as his master, who
+had been bought out by Larcher when he took leave of military glory.
+Attached to the captain by many acts of kindness, Denis was absolutely
+devoted to him, and was no unimportant personage in the new home. The
+other servant was Mona Bantry, the sister of Denis, a handsome,
+bright-eyed lass from County Kerry, who acted as maid to Mrs. Larcher.
+The remaining servants call for no special mention, but this Irish
+couple must be particularly noted as having been mixed up with the
+tragedy.
+
+For some months all went well at The Laurels, and it seemed as though
+the Larchers were devoted to one another. But this was only outwardly,
+for the character of Julia developed rapidly after marriage into that of
+a vain, frivolous woman, eager of admiration, extravagant as regards
+dress, and neglectful of the infant son. Larcher, a thoroughly
+domesticated man, greatly resented the attitude taken up by his wife,
+and the resentment led to frequent quarrels. He was annoyed by her
+frivolity and continuous absence from home; while she began to dislike
+her grave husband, who would have made her--as she expressed it--a mere
+domestic drudge. But the pair managed to hoodwink the world as to their
+real feelings to one another, and it was only when the trial of Mrs.
+Larcher came on that the truth was revealed. In all Kent there was no
+more unhappy home than that at The Laurels.
+
+To make matters worse, Mark Jeringham paid a visit to Horriston, and
+having known Mrs. Larcher from childhood, naturally enough became a
+frequent visitor. He was everywhere at the heels of the former belle of
+Cheltenham, who encouraged him in his attentions. Larcher remonstrated
+with his wife on her folly, but she saucily refused to alter her line of
+conduct. But for the scandal of the thing Larcher would have forbidden
+Jeringham the house; and, to mark his disapprobation, gave him the cold
+shoulder on every occasion. Nevertheless, this inconvenient person
+persisted in thrusting himself between husband and wife, to the anger of
+the former and the delight of the latter. The introduction of this third
+element only made matters worse.
+
+The house was divided into camps, for Mona supported her mistress in her
+frivolity, and, indeed, seemed herself to have an admiration for
+handsome Mark Jeringham, who was very generous in money matters. Denis,
+in whose eyes his master was perfect, hated the interloper as much as
+Larcher, and loudly protested against the attention of Mona and his
+mistress. Another friend who supported Larcher was Francis Hilliston,
+then a gay young lawyer of thirty-five, who often paid a visit to
+Horriston. He also frequented The Laurels, but was much disliked by Mrs.
+Larcher, who greatly resented his loyal friendship for her husband.
+Things were in this position on the 23d of June, 1866, when events
+occurred which resulted in the murder of Captain Larcher, the
+disappearance of Jeringham, and the arrest of Mrs. Larcher on a charge
+of murder.
+
+A masked ball in fancy dress was to be given at the Town Hall on that
+night, and hither Mrs. Larcher was going as Mary, Queen of Scots,
+accompanied by Jeringham in the character of Darnley. George Larcher
+refused to be present, and went up to London on the night in question,
+leaving his faithful friend Hilliston to look after his matrimonial
+interests at the ball. Before he left a terrible scene took place
+between himself and his wife, in which he forbade her to go to the
+dance, but she defied him, and said she would go without his permission.
+Whereupon Larcher left the house and went up to London, swearing that he
+would never return until his wife asked his pardon and renounced the
+friendship of Jeringham.
+
+Now, here began the mystery which no one was able to fathom. Mrs.
+Larcher went to the ball with Jeringham, and having, as she said to
+Hilliston, who was also at the ball, enjoyed herself greatly, returned
+home at three in the morning. The next day she was ill in bed, although
+she had left the Town Hall in perfect health, and Mark Jeringham had
+disappeared. Larcher was not seen in the neighborhood for five days, and
+presumably was still in London; so during his absence Mrs. Larcher kept
+her bed. Then his body, considerably disfigured, was found at the mouth
+of the river Sarway, some four miles down. Curious to state it was
+clothed in a fancy dress similar to that worn by Jeringham on the night
+of the ball.
+
+On the discovery of the body public curiosity was greatly excited, and a
+thousand rumors flew from mouth to mouth. That a crime had been
+committed no one doubted for a moment, as an examination proved that
+George Larcher had been stabbed to the heart by some slender, sharp
+instrument. The matter passed into the hands of the police, and they
+paid a visit to The Laurels for the purpose of seeing what light Mrs.
+Larcher could throw on the matter. At this awful period of her frivolous
+life Francis Hilliston stood her friend, and it was he who interviewed
+the officers of the law when they called.
+
+Mrs. Larcher was still in bed, and, under the doctor's orders, refused
+to rise therefrom, or to receive her visitors. She protested to
+Hilliston, who in his turn reported her sayings to the police, that she
+knew nothing about the matter. She had not seen her husband since he
+left her on the 23d of June, and no one was more astonished or
+horror-struck than she at the news of his death. According to her story
+she had left the ball at three o'clock, and had driven to The Laurels
+with Jeringham. He had parted from her at the door of the house, and had
+walked back to Horriston. His reason for not entering, and for not using
+the carriage to return, was that he did not wish to give color to the
+scandal as to the relations which existed between them, which Mrs.
+Larcher vowed and protested were purely platonic.
+
+Furthermore, she asserted that her illness was caused by a discovery
+which she had made on the night of the ball: that Mona Bantry was about
+to become a mother, and to all appearance she believed that the father
+of the coming child was none other than her husband. Far from thinking
+that he had been murdered, she had been waiting for his return in order
+to upbraid him for his profligacy, and to demand a divorce. Mona Bantry
+had disappeared immediately after the discovery of her ruin, and Mrs.
+Larcher professed that she did not know where she was.
+
+This story, which was feasible enough, satisfied the police authorities
+for the moment, and they retired, only to return three days later with a
+warrant for the arrest of Mrs. Larcher. In the interval a dagger had
+been found in the grounds of The Laurels, on the banks of the river,
+and, as it was stained with blood and exactly fitted the wound, it was
+concluded that with this weapon the crime had been committed. Inquiry
+resulted in the information being obtained that Mrs. Larcher, in her
+character of Mary, Queen of Scots, had worn this dagger on the night of
+the ball. Hence it was evident, so said the police, that she had killed
+her husband.
+
+The theory of the police was that Captain Larcher had returned from
+London on the night of the ball, and had witnessed the parting of his
+wife and Jeringham at the door. Filled with jealous rage he had
+upbraided his wife in the sitting room, the window of which looked out
+on the cliff overhanging the river. In a moment of fury she had
+doubtless snatched the dagger from her girdle and stabbed him to the
+heart, then, terrified at what she had done, had thrown the body out of
+the window, trusting that the stream would carry it away, and so conceal
+her crime. This the river had done, for the body had been discovered
+four miles down, where it had been carried by the current. As to the
+dagger being in the grounds in place of the room, the police, never at a
+loss for a theory, suggested that Mrs. Larcher had stolen out of the
+house, and had thrown the dagger over the bank where it was subsequently
+discovered.
+
+Mrs. Larcher asserted her innocence, and reiterated her statement that
+she had not seen her husband since the day of the ball. He had not
+returned on that night, as the servants could testify. The only
+domestics who had not retired to bed when she returned at three o'clock
+were Mona and Denis. Of these the first had gone away to hide her shame,
+and all inquiries and advertisements failed to find her. But at the
+trial Denis--much broken down at the ruin of his sister--swore that
+Captain Larcher had not returned from London on that evening, and that
+Mrs. Larcher had gone straight to the sitting room, where she first made
+the discovery of Mona's iniquity, and then had afterward retired to bed.
+Mrs. Larcher asserted that the dagger had been lost by her at the ball,
+and she knew not into whose hands it had fallen.
+
+The trial, which took place at Canterbury, was a nine days' wonder, and
+opinions were divided as to the guilt of the erring wife. One party held
+that she had committed the crime in the manner stated by the police,
+while the others asserted that Jeringham was the criminal, and had
+disappeared in order to escape the consequences of his guilt.
+"Doubtless," said they, "he had been met by Larcher after leaving the
+house, and had killed him during a quarrel." The use of the dagger was
+accounted for by these wiseacres by a belief that Mrs. Larcher had given
+it to Jeringham as a love token when she parted from him at the door of
+The Laurels.
+
+The evidence of Denis, that he had been with or near Mrs. Larcher till
+she retired to bed, and that the captain had not set foot in the house
+on that evening, turned the tide of evidence in favor of the unfortunate
+woman. She was acquitted of the crime, and went to London, but there
+died--as appeared from the newspapers--a few weeks afterward, killed by
+anxiety and shame.
+
+The child Claude was taken charge of by Mr. Hilliston, who had been a
+good friend to Mrs. Larcher during her troubles, and so the matter faded
+from the public mind.
+
+What became of Jeringham no one ever knew. His victim--as some supposed
+Larcher to be--was duly buried in the Horriston Cemetery, but all the
+efforts of the police failed to find the man who was morally, if not
+legally, guilty of the crime. Denis also was lost in the London crowd,
+and all those who had been present at the tragedy at The Laurels were
+scattered far and wide. New matters attracted the attention of the
+fickle public, and the Larcher affair was forgotten in due course.
+
+The mystery was never solved. Who was guilty of the crime? That question
+was never answered. Some accused Mrs. Larcher despite her acquittal and
+death. Others insisted that Jeringham was the criminal; but no one could
+be certain of the truth. Hilliston, seeing that Mr. and Mrs. Larcher
+were dead, that Mona, Denis, and Jeringham had disappeared, wisely kept
+the matter secret from Claude, deeming that it would be folly to disturb
+the mind of the lad with an insoluble riddle of so terrible a nature. So
+for five-and-twenty years the matter had remained in abeyance. Now it
+seemed as though it were about to be reopened by Mrs. Bezel.
+
+"And who--" asked Claude of himself, as he finished this history in the
+gray dawn of the morning, "who is Mrs. Bezel?"
+
+To say the least, he had a right to ask himself this question, for it
+was curious that the name of Mrs. Bezel was not even mentioned in
+connection with that undiscovered crime of five-and-twenty years before.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+                         A STRANGE COINCIDENCE.
+
+
+IN spite of Tait's methodical habits, circumstances beyond his control
+often occurred to upset them. On the previous day the unexpected arrival
+of Claude had altered his plans for the day, and after his return from
+the theater on the same evening, he had--contrary to his rule--passed
+the night in reading. The invaluable Dormer had procured "A Whim of
+Fate" from Mudie's, and Tait found it lying on the table in company with
+biscuits and wine. Excited by the performance, he did not feel inclined
+to retire at his usual hour of midnight, and while sipping his wine,
+picked up the first volume to while away the time till he should feel
+sleepy.
+
+Alas! this novel, about which everyone in London was talking, proved
+anything but soporific, and for the whole of that night Tait sat in his
+comfortable chair devouring the three volumes. The tale was one of
+mystery, and until he learned the solution Tait, conventional and
+incurious as he was, could not tear himself from the fascination of the
+printed page. When the riddle was read, when the criminal was hunted
+down, when the bad were punished, and the good rewarded, the dawn was
+already breaking in the east. In his Jermyn Street hotel, Claude Larcher
+was rising, stiff and tired, from the perusal of a tragedy in real life;
+in his Earls Street chambers, Spenser Tait was closing the third volume
+of John Parver's work. Each had passed a wakeful night, each had been
+fascinated by the account of a crime, the one real, the other fictional.
+So does Fate, whose designs no one can presume to explain, duplicate our
+lives for the gaining of her own ends.
+
+Rather disgusted by his departure from the conventional, and heartily
+blaming the too ingenious John Parver for having caused such departure,
+Tait tumbled hastily into bed, in order to snatch a few hours' sleep.
+Dormer, ignorant of his master's vigil, woke him remorselessly at his
+usual hour, with the unexpected intelligence that Mr. Larcher was
+waiting to see him in the sitting room. From the telegram of the
+previous night, and this early visit, Tait rightly concluded that his
+friend was in trouble, so without waiting to take his bath, he hurriedly
+slipped on a dressing gown, and appeared sleepy and disheveled in the
+sitting room. Larcher, who looked likewise dissipated, arose to his feet
+as the little man entered, and they eyed one another in astonishment,
+for the appearance of each was totally at variance with his usual looks.
+
+"Well," said Tait interrogatively, "I see you've been making a night of
+it."
+
+"I might say the same of you," replied Larcher grimly; "a more
+dissipated looking wretch I never saw. Have you fallen into bad habits
+at your age?"
+
+"That depends on what you call bad habits, Claude. I have not been round
+the town, if that is what you mean. But, seduced by the novel of a too
+ingenious author, I have sat up all night devouring his three volumes.
+Such a thing has not occurred with me since I unfortunately tried to
+read myself to sleep with 'Jane Eyre.' Charlotte Brontë and John Parver
+are both answerable for my white nights. But you," continued Tait,
+surveying his friend in a quizzical manner; "am I to understand
+that----"
+
+"You are to understand that my night has been a duplicate of your own,"
+interrupted Larcher curtly.
+
+"What! Have you been reading 'A Whim of Fate'?"
+
+"No, my friend, I have not. While you were devouring fiction, I have
+been making myself acquainted with a tragedy in real life."
+
+Larcher thereupon savagely threw on the breakfast table a roll of
+papers, and looked defiantly at his friend. Tone and expression failed
+to elicit surprise.
+
+"Oh!" said Tait reflectively, "then Hilliston gave you bad news, after
+all. I guessed he had from your refusal to accompany me to the theater
+last night."
+
+"You guessed rightly. He gave me such news as I never expected to hear.
+You will find it amply set forth in those papers, which I have been
+reading all night."
+
+"Dear me. I trust it is nothing serious. Has Mrs. Bezel----"
+
+"I don't know anything about Mrs. Bezel," said Larcher loudly. "So far
+as she is concerned I am as much in the dark as ever. But my
+parents----"
+
+"What of them?" interrupted Tait, uttering the first thought which came
+into his mind. "Are they alive, after all?"
+
+"No. They are dead, sure enough," muttered Claude gloomily.
+
+"In that case what can Mr. Hilliston or Mrs. Bezel have to say about
+them," demanded the other, looking puzzled. "No scandal about Queen
+Elizabeth, I hope?"
+
+"Confound it, man, don't be so flippant! I've had bad news, I tell you.
+My father,"--here Larcher gulped down his emotion with some
+difficulty--"my father was murdered!"
+
+"Murdered!" repeated Tait, looking aghast, as well he might.
+
+"Yes! And my mother was accused of having murdered him. There you have
+it."
+
+It was some little time before Tait could face the skeleton so
+unexpectedly produced from the Larcher cupboard. Hitherto his
+acquaintance with crime had been mainly derived from fiction after the
+style of John Parver, or from the columns of the press; but now he was
+brought face to face with a tragedy indirectly connected with his
+dearest friend, and naturally enough did not like the situation.
+Nevertheless, like the wise little man he was, he made no comment on the
+truth so suddenly blurted out, but pushed his friend into a comfortable
+chair, and proposed breakfast.
+
+"Breakfast!" cried Claude, clutching his hair; "I could not eat a
+morsel. Have you no feelings, you little monster, to propose breakfast
+to me, after hearing such hideous news. Why don't you give me sympathy,
+and try and help me, instead of sitting at your confounded rasher of
+bacon like a graven image."
+
+"I'll do all in my power later on," said Tait quietly; "but you are
+upset by this news, and no wonder. Try and eat a little, then you can
+tell me all about it, and I'll give you the best advice in my power."
+
+Thus adjured, Claude drew in his chair, and managed to eat a morsel of
+toast and drink a cup of coffee, after which he lighted his pipe, and
+smoked furiously, while Tait, anxious that his friend should regain his
+self-control, made a lengthened meal, and talked of divers matters.
+Breakfast over, he also filled his favorite pipe, and, drawing a chair
+close to that of Larcher's, waited for an explanation.
+
+"Well, Claude," said he, after a pause, during which the other showed no
+disposition to speak, "tell me your trouble."
+
+"I have told you," grumbled Larcher angrily; "if you want to know any
+more about it, read those papers."
+
+"It would take too long, and, as it happens, I am already tired with
+reading. Tell me about the affair as shortly as possible, and then we
+can go through the papers together. You say your father was murdered.
+Who committed the crime?"
+
+"No one knows! The criminal is still at large."
+
+"After five-and-twenty years he is likely to remain so."
+
+"No!", cried Larcher vehemently, striking the table; "I'll hunt him
+down, and find him out, and put a rope round his neck, so help me God!"
+
+"You say your mother was accused of the crime," said Tait, ignoring this
+outburst.
+
+"Yes. But she was acquitted on the evidence of my father's valet.
+Shortly afterward she died in London. I don't wonder at it," said poor
+Claude distractedly; "the shame, the disgrace! If she survived she was
+bitterly punished. I should like to see the man who would dare to
+asperse her memory."
+
+"No one will do so," said Tait soothingly. "Control yourself, my dear
+fellow, and we will look into this matter together. I have just been
+reading about a crime, but I did not think I would be so soon concerned
+in dealing with one."
+
+"You will help me, Tait? You will stand by me?"
+
+"My dear friend, can you ask? I am completely at your service, and
+together we will do all in our power to discover the murderer of your
+father and clear the memory of your mother."
+
+"It is clear. She was acquitted by the jury. Don't you dare to----"
+
+"I don't dare to say anything," interrupted Tait impatiently. "Do be
+reasonable, my good fellow. So long as I am ignorant, I can say nothing.
+Tell me the particulars and we may arrive at some conclusion. Now then,
+give me a _précis_ of the case."
+
+Dominated by the superior calm of his friend, Claude related the Larcher
+affair as succinctly as possible. The details of the case had impressed
+themselves too strongly on his brain for him to hesitate in the
+narration, and, keeping his emotions well in hand, he managed to give a
+fairly minute account of the tragedy which had taken place at Horriston
+in the year 1866.
+
+The effect on Tait was surprising. A look of blank astonishment
+overspread his face as Larcher proceeded with his story, and when it was
+finished he looked anxiously at his friend. Apart from the details of
+the case, he was deeply interested in the matter from another point of
+view. Larcher waited to hear what his friend thought of the case, but
+instead of commenting thereon Tait both acted and spoke in an apparently
+irrelevant manner.
+
+Without a word he heard Claude to the end, then rose from his seat, and
+walking to the other end of the room returned with three volumes bound
+in red cloth.
+
+"This book is called 'A Whim of Fate,'" said he placing the volumes at
+Larcher's elbow. "Have you read it?"
+
+"Confound it, what do you mean?" burst out Claude, with justifiable
+wrath. "I tell you of a serious matter which nearly concerns myself, and
+you prattle about the last fashionable novel."
+
+"Wait a minute," said Tait, laying a detaining hand on his friend's coat
+sleeve. "There is more method in my madness than you give me credit
+for."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"The story you tell me is most extraordinary. But the information I am
+about to impart to you is more extraordinary still. You say this crime
+at Horriston was committed five-and-twenty years ago."
+
+"Yes, you can see by the date of those newspapers."
+
+"It has very likely faded out of all memories."
+
+"Of course! I don't suppose anyone is now alive who gives it a thought."
+
+"Well," said Tait, "it is certainly curious."
+
+"What is curious? Explain yourself."
+
+"The story you tell me now was known to me last night."
+
+Larcher looked at his friend in unconcealed surprise, and promptly
+contradicted what seemed to be a foolish assertion.
+
+"That is impossible, Tait. I heard it only last night myself."
+
+"Nevertheless, I read it last night."
+
+"Read it last night!" repeated Larcher skeptically.
+
+"In this book," said Tait, laying his hand on the novel.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded the other impatiently.
+
+"I mean that John Parver, the author of this book, has utilized the
+events which took place at Horriston in 1866 for the purpose of writing
+a work of fiction. The story you tell me is told in these pages, and
+your family tragedy is the talk of literary London."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+                    TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION.
+
+
+THIS astonishing statement was received by Claude with a disbelieving
+smile; and so convinced was he of its untruth that he affected anger at
+what he really believed to be the flippancy of Tait's conduct.
+
+"It is no doubt very amusing for you to ridicule my story," said he,
+with cold dignity, "but it is hardly the act of a friend. Some matters
+are too serious to form the subject of a jest; and this----"
+
+"I am not jesting," interrupted Tait eagerly. "I assure you that the
+tragedy which concerned your parents forms the subject-matter of this
+novel. You can read the book yourself, and so be convinced that I am
+speaking the truth. The names and places are no doubt fictional, but the
+whole story is narrated plainly enough."
+
+Larcher turned over the three volumes with a puzzled expression. That a
+story with which he had only become acquainted within the last
+twenty-four hours should be printed in a book, and that the book itself
+should be brought so speedily under his notice, seemed to him quite
+inexplicable. The strangeness of the occurrence paralyzed his will, and,
+contrary to his usual self-dependence, he looked to Tait for guidance.
+
+"What do you think of it?" he asked irresolutely.
+
+"Ah! That requires some consideration, my friend. But before we go into
+the matter let us understand our position toward each other. You believe
+this story of your father's death?"
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Hilliston would not tell me an untruth, and moreover
+this bundle of extracts from provincial newspapers confirms his
+statement. I truly believe that my father, George Larcher, was murdered
+at Horriston in 1866 by--and there you have me--I know not by whom. My
+own opinion is that Jeringham is----"
+
+"One moment, Claude! Let us settle all preliminaries. Are you resolved
+to take up this matter!"
+
+"I am! I must clear the memory of my mother, and avenge the death of my
+father."
+
+"Would it not be better to let sleeping dogs lie?" suggested Tait, with
+some hesitation.
+
+"I do not think so," replied Claude quietly. "I am not a sentimental
+man, as you know; and my nature is of too practical a kind to busy
+itself with weaving ropes of sand. Yet in this instance I feel that it
+is my duty to hunt down and punish the coward who killed my father. When
+I find him, and punish him, this ghost of '66 will be laid aside;
+otherwise, it will continue to haunt and torture me all my life."
+
+"But your business?"
+
+"I shall lay aside my business till this matter is settled to my
+satisfaction. As you know, I have a private income, and am not compelled
+to work for my daily bread. Moreover, the last four years have brought
+me in plenty of money, so that I can afford to indulge my fancy. And my
+fancy," added Claude in a grim tone, "is to dedicate the rest of my life
+to discovering the truth. Do you not approve of my decision?"
+
+"Yes, and no," said Tait evasively. "I think your hunt for an
+undescribed criminal, whose crime dates back twenty-five years, is
+rather a waste of time. All clews must have disappeared. It seems
+hopeless for you to think of solving the mystery. And if you do,"
+continued the little man earnestly, "if you do, what possible pleasure
+can you derive from such a solution? Your father is a mere name to you,
+so filial love can have nothing to do with the matter. Moreover, the
+criminal may be dead--he may be----"
+
+"You have a thousand and one objections," said Larcher impatiently,
+"none of which have any weight with me. I am in the hands of Fate. A
+factor has entered into my life which has changed my future. Knowing
+what I now know, I cannot rest until I learn the truth. Do you know the
+story of Mozart?" he added abruptly.
+
+"I know several stories of Mozart. But this special one I may not know."
+
+"It is told either of Mozart or Mendelssohn! I forget which," pursued
+Larcher, half to himself. "When Mozart--let us say Mozart--was ill in
+bed, one of his friends struck a discord on the piano, which required
+what is technically known as a resolution for its completion. The
+omission so tortured the sensitive ear of the musician that, when his
+friend departed, he rose from his bed and completed the discord in
+accordance with musical theory. Till that was done he could not rest."
+
+"And the point of your parable?"
+
+"Can you not see? This incomplete case of murder is my discord. I must
+complete it by discovering the criminal, and so round off the case, or
+submit to be tortured by its hinted mystery all my life. It is not
+filial love, it is not sentiment, it is not even curiosity, it is simply
+a desire to complete a matter hitherto left undone. Till I know the
+sequel to the Horriston tragedy, I shall feel in a state of
+suspense--and suspense," added Claude emphatically, "is torture to men
+of my temperament."
+
+"Your reason is a trifle whimsical," said Tait, smiling at the
+application of this musical theory to the present instance, "but I can
+understand your feelings. Indeed, I feel the same way myself."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Why not? In reading 'A Whim of Fate,' I could not go to rest without
+knowing the end, and I feel a like curiosity toward this tragedy of real
+life. I shall not be content till I learn the truth. My feelings are
+precisely the same as your own. Therefore," pursued Tait, with emphasis,
+"I propose to assist you in your search. We will discuss the matter
+calmly, and see what is best to be done. In spite of the lapse of
+five-and-twenty years, who knows but what we may lay hands on the
+murderer of your father, who is no doubt now living in fancied
+security."
+
+"Unless he is dead."
+
+"Who is making the objections now?" said Tait, smiling. "Well, Claude,
+will you accept me as your brother detective in this matter?"
+
+"Willingly, and I thank you for this proof of your friendship."
+
+"I am afraid there is an element of selfishness mixed up in my offer,"
+said Tait, shrugging his shoulders. "It is not every day that one can
+find an interesting case like this to dissect. Excitement is the joy of
+life, and I rather think we will be able to extract a great deal from
+this investigation. Come! We now understand one another."
+
+Larcher grasped the hand held out to him, and gratefully accepted the
+aid thus offered. From that moment the two dedicated themselves to hunt
+down the criminal at whose hands George Larcher had met his death. It
+was as strange a compact as had ever been made. Halting Nemesis, who had
+rested all these years, once more resumed her stealthy progress, and
+before her ran these two young men, as ministers of her long-delayed
+revenge. This junction of unforeseen circumstances savored of the
+dramatic.
+
+"The first thing to be done," said Tait, when the compact was thus
+concluded, "is to read both cases."
+
+"Both cases!" repeated Claude curiously.
+
+"Yes! You remember how Browning gives half a dozen aspects of the same
+case in his 'Ring and the Book.' In a minor degree we benefit in the
+same manner. There," said Tait, pointing to the roll of newspapers, "is
+the case from the real point of view, and here, in these three volumes,
+we will find the same case as considered in a fictional fashion by the
+novelist. By reading both we may come to some conclusion whence to start
+in our talk. Last night you read the newspapers; I the novel. To-day we
+will reverse the process. I will view the affair as set forth by the
+provincial press, and you will devour the three volumes of John Parver
+as I did last night."
+
+"And afterward?"
+
+"Eh! Who can say?" replied Tait, shrugging his shoulders. Several
+sojourns in Paris had left their trace in Gallic gestures, and possibly
+in Gallic flippancy. "We must know what foundation we have before we
+build."
+
+Claude nodded. He was of the same way of thinking himself, and commented
+on his friend's speech after his own fashion.
+
+"Yes," said he a trifle vindictively, "we must build our gallows stanch
+and strong. You can proceed with your toilet, and afterward we will read
+novels and newspapers, as you suggest. The result of our reading must
+appear in our actions. I rather think," he added slowly, "that the
+result will be a visit to Mr. Hilliston."
+
+"Without doubt. He was an eye-witness, and it is always preferable to
+obtain evidence first hand."
+
+"Then," said Claude reflectively, "there is Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"Quite so! The enterprising lady who started the whole thing. Was she
+also an eye-witness?"
+
+"I can't say. Her name does not appear in the newspapers."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Tait, scratching his chin. "Nor in those three volumes
+can I find a character likely to develop into Mrs. Bezel of Hampstead."
+
+"I wonder who she can be," said Claude curiously, "or what she can have
+to do with the case."
+
+"That we must find out. Depend upon it, there is more in this case than
+in newspapers or novel. We must find out all about Mrs. Bezel, and,"
+said Tait, with emphasis, "we must learn all that is to be learned
+concerning John Parver."
+
+"Who is John Parver?"
+
+"Who was the Man in the Iron Mask?" replied Tait, in a bantering tone.
+"I cannot say. But whomsoever he may be, he knows all about this case."
+
+"There is that possibility, certainly," assented the other smoothly,
+"but I think it hardly likely. A man of to-day would not readily come
+across the account of a tragedy occurring in a little known town
+twenty-five years ago. Do you know," he added, after a pause, "that it
+occurs to me that the publication of this book, containing an account of
+the case, may have been the cause which incited Mrs. Bezel to write the
+letter."
+
+"I thought so myself. Mrs. Bezel may think that John Parver is a _nom de
+plume_ assumed by Claude Larcher."
+
+"Or another alternative. Mrs. Bezel may be John Parver herself. It is
+the fashion nowadays for women to write under the names of men."
+
+There was a few minutes' silence, during which each man was intent on
+his own thoughts. Tait, whose brain turned quicker than that of
+Larcher, was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Well," said he, moving briskly toward his bedroom door, "before we can
+say or do anything we must learn the facts of the case."
+
+As he vanished into his room Claude laid his hand on the first of the
+three volumes.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+                        "LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE."
+
+
+ON the journey of life we sometimes come to a dead stop. Obstacles arise
+which bar our further progress, and circumstances, impossible to do away
+with, confront us on all sides. We cannot go back, for in life there is
+no retrogression; we cannot proceed, owing to blocked paths, and so
+stand hopeless and powerless, waiting for the word or action of Fate.
+She, unseen but almighty deity, alone can remove the hindrance which
+prevents our progress, and until she speaks or acts, we can do nothing
+but wait. It is on such occasions that we feel how truly we are the
+puppets of some unknown power.
+
+Francis Hilliston had arrived at some such stoppage. Hitherto his keen
+brain, his strong will, his capability for decisive action, had carried
+him onward from past to present, through present to future. When
+obstacles had arisen they had been easily swept away, and with his own
+life in his hands, he was perfectly satisfied of his power to mold it to
+his liking. Possibly Fate, who is a somewhat jealous deity, felt angered
+at the egotistic self-reliance of the man; for without warning she
+brought him to a dead stop, then grimly waited to see how his boasted
+cunning would outwit her. As she probably foresaw, the man did nothing
+but await her decision. It was the only thing he could do.
+
+For five-and-twenty years the Horriston tragedy had been unmentioned,
+unthought of; Hilliston deemed that it was relegated to the category of
+unknown crimes, and having in mind his friendship for the parents, and
+his love for the son, was not unwilling that it should be so. He did not
+wish Claude to know of the matter, he was not desirous that he should
+come in contact with Mrs. Bezel; and hitherto had managed so well that
+neither contingency had eventuated. Congratulating himself on his
+dexterity, he remained lulled in fancied security, when Fate, observant
+of his complacency, sent a bolt from the blue, and brought him up short.
+Now, Hilliston, forced by circumstances to tell the truth to Larcher,
+did not know what to do. He could only wait for the fiat of the higher
+power.
+
+Grimly satisfied that she had brought home his fault, and had shown him
+his moral weakness, Fate made the next move, and sent Larcher and his
+friend to Lincoln's Inn Fields to again set Hilliston on his former
+journey. The paralysis of will which had seized the elder man did not
+extend to the younger; for Claude arrived full of anxiety to begin the
+search for the undiscovered criminal. The first result of his compact
+with Tait was this visit to the lawyer.
+
+"Claude Larcher; Spenser Tait," muttered Hilliston, glancing at the
+cards brought in by his clerk. "I thought as much; the matter is out of
+my hands now. Show the gentlemen in," he added sharply.
+
+The clerk departed, and Hilliston walked quickly to the window, where he
+stood biting his nails. All geniality had vanished from his face; he
+looked older than his years, and an unaccustomed frown wrinkled his
+expansive forehead. A crisis had come which he knew not how to meet; so,
+after the fashion of men when they feel thus helpless, he left the
+decision in the hands of Fate. Which was precisely what Fate wanted.
+
+"Good-morning, Claude! Good-morning, Mr. Tait!" said Hilliston,
+welcoming the young men with artificial enthusiasm. "I expected to see
+you today."
+
+"Surely you did not expect to see me?" said Tait, in a silky tone, as he
+placed his hat on the table.
+
+"Indeed, I did! Where Damon is Phintias is sure to be. That Claude's
+perusal of those papers would result in your accompanying him to this
+office, I felt sure. I was right. Here you are!"
+
+Mr. Hilliston affected a cheerfulness he was far from feeling. With
+increasing age a distaste had come for violent excitements, and with one
+of Claude's temperament he knew that the chances were that the ensuing
+quarter of an hour would be somewhat stirring. Contrary to his
+expectations, however, Larcher was eager, but calm, and Hilliston,
+assuring himself that the calmness was genuine, began to hope that the
+interview would pass off better than he expected. Still, none of us like
+to reopen a disagreeable chapter of the book of life, and this Mr.
+Hilliston, against his will and inclination, was about to do.
+
+"Well, sir," said Claude, when they were all seated, and the hush of
+expectancy was in the air, "I have read those papers."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Hilliston interrogatively; "and what do you think of the
+matter?"
+
+"I think it is a very black case."
+
+"You are quite right, Claude. It is a very black case indeed. I did all
+in my power to bring the criminal to justice, but without success."
+
+"Who is the criminal?" asked Larcher, with a keen glance at his
+guardian.
+
+Hilliston shuffled his feet uneasily, by no means relishing the
+directness of the question.
+
+"That is a difficult question to answer," he said slowly; "in fact an
+impossible one. My suspicions point to Jeringham."
+
+From this point Tait made a third in the conversation.
+
+"That is because Jeringham disappeared on the night of the murder," he
+said leisurely.
+
+"Yes. I think that circumstance alone is very suspicious."
+
+"He was never found again?"
+
+"Never. We advertised in all the papers; we employed detectives,
+inquired privately, but all to no result. The last person who saw
+Jeringham was Mrs. Larcher. He parted from her at the door of The
+Laurels, and vanished into the night. It still hides him."
+
+"What do you conclude from that, sir?" asked Claude, after a pause.
+
+"I can only conclude one thing," replied Hilliston, with great
+deliberation, "that your father, suspicious of Jeringham, returned on
+that night from London, and saw the parting. The result is not difficult
+to foresee. It is my own opinion that there were words between the men,
+possibly a struggle, and that the matter ended in the murder of your
+father by Jeringham. Hence the discovery of the body thrown into the
+river, hence the flight of the murderer."
+
+"Was this the generally received opinion at the time?"
+
+"Yes. I can safely say that it was believed Jeringham was guilty, and
+had fled to escape the consequences of his crime."
+
+"In that case, how was it that Mrs. Larcher was arrested?" asked Tait
+skeptically.
+
+"You cannot have read the case carefully, to ask me that," replied
+Hilliston sharply. "She was arrested on the evidence of the dagger.
+Without doubt the crime was committed with the dagger, and as she had
+worn it, the inference was drawn that she was the guilty person. But she
+was acquitted, and left the court--as the saying is--without a stain on
+her character."
+
+"Nevertheless she died, Mr. Hilliston."
+
+"Shame killed her," said the lawyer sadly. "She was a foolish woman in
+many ways,--your pardon, Claude, for so speaking,--but she was not the
+woman to commit so foul a crime. Indeed, I believe she was fondly
+attached to her husband till Jeringham came between them."
+
+"Ah!" interposed Tait composedly, "that is John Parver's view."
+
+"John Parver?" repeated Hilliston, with well-bred surprise. "I do not
+know that name in connection with the case."
+
+"Nor do we know the name of Mrs. Bezel," said Claude quickly.
+
+Hilliston started, and looked at Claude as though he would read his very
+soul. The inscrutability of the young man's countenance baffled him, and
+he turned off the remark with a dry laugh.
+
+"With Mrs. Bezel we will deal hereafter," he said shortly; "but who is
+this John Parver!"
+
+"He is the author of a book called 'A Whim of Fate.'"
+
+"A novel?"
+
+"Yes. A novel which embodies the whole of this case."
+
+"That is strange," said Hilliston quietly, "but no doubt the author has
+come across the details in some old provincial journal, and made use of
+them. The Larcher affair caused a great deal of talk at the time, but it
+is certainly remarkable that a novelist should have made use of it for
+fictional purposes after the lapse of so many years. I must read the
+book. Just note the name of it here, Mr. Tait, if you please."
+
+Tait did so, and Hilliston continued:
+
+"Is my character in the book?"
+
+"I think so. Under the name of Michael Dene!"
+
+"I trust the author has been flattering to me. By the way, who does he
+say committed the crime?"
+
+"Michael Dene."
+
+Hilliston went gray on the instant, as though a sudden blow had been
+struck at his heart. Two pairs of keen eyes were fixed on his face with
+some surprise, and uneasy at the scrutiny, he strove to recover his
+composure.
+
+"Upon my word," he said, with quivering lips, "I am infinitely obliged
+to John Parver for describing me as a murderer. And what motive does he
+ascribe to me, or rather to Michael Dene, for the committal of the
+crime?"
+
+"Love for the wife," said Tait, smiling.
+
+"Eh! That is rather the rôle of Jeringham, I should say," replied
+Hilliston, the color coming back to lips and cheek. "I must read this
+novel, and if possible discover the identity of the author."
+
+"Oh, we will do that!"
+
+"Claude!" cried the lawyer, in astonishment.
+
+"I and Tait. We intend to follow out this case to the end."
+
+"It is useless! Five-and-twenty years have elapsed."
+
+"Nevertheless, I am determined to hunt down the murderer of my father,"
+said Claude decisively. "Besides, we have two eye-witnesses to the
+tragedy. Yourself and Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"Ah! Mrs. Bezel! I forgot her. Certainly, I will do all in my power to
+help you, Claude. Your father was my dearest friend, and I shall only be
+too glad to avenge his fate. But if I could not do it at the moment, how
+can I hope to do so now--after so long a period has elapsed?"
+
+"Leave that to us, sir. Tait and I will attend to the active part of the
+business. All we ask you to do is to give us such information as lies in
+your power."
+
+"I will do that with pleasure," said Hilliston, who by this time was
+thoroughly master of himself. "What is it you wish to know."
+
+"We wish to know all about Mrs. Bezel. Who is she? What has she to do
+with the case? Why is not her name mentioned in these pages?"
+
+"For answers to these questions you had better apply to the lady
+herself. You have her address. Why not call on her?"
+
+"I intend to do so to-morrow."
+
+The old man rose from his seat, and took a turn up and down the room.
+Then he paused beside Claude, and laid a trembling hand on the young
+man's shoulder.
+
+"I have been a good friend to you, Claude."
+
+"You have been my second father--my real father," said Larcher gently.
+"I shall never forget your kindness. I would return it if I could."
+
+"Then do so, by letting sleeping dogs lie."
+
+"What do you mean by that, Mr. Hilliston?" asked the other, with a
+subtle change in his tone.
+
+"Abandon this case. Do not call on Mrs. Bezel. You can do no good by
+reopening the affair. It was a mystery years ago, it is a mystery still;
+it will remain a mystery till the end of time."
+
+"Not if I can help it. I am sorry to disoblige you, sir, but my mind is
+made up. I am determined to find out the truth."
+
+Hilliston sighed, passed his hand across his forehead, and returned to
+his seat, hopeless and baffled. He was sufficiently acquainted with
+Claude's character to know that he was not easily turned from his
+purpose, and that his resolution to solve the mystery would be
+resolutely carried out. Yet he made one more attempt to bend the young
+man to his will.
+
+"If you are wise you will not call on Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"Why not, sir?"
+
+"It will give you great pain."
+
+"All my pain is past," replied Claude quickly. "I can suffer no more
+than I did when reading these papers. I must call on Mrs. Bezel; I must
+know the truth, and," added he significantly, "I have your promise to
+assist me."
+
+"I will do all in my power," answered Hilliston wearily, "but you do not
+know what are you doing. I am older and more experienced than you, and I
+give you my best advice. Do not see Mrs. Bezel, and leave the Larcher
+affair alone."
+
+The result of this well-meant advice was that Claude called the next
+morning on Mrs. Bezel.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+                      BOTH SIDES OF THE QUESTION.
+
+
+MAN'S life has frequently been compared to a river. In childhood it is a
+trickling thread, in youth a stream, in manhood a majestic river, and
+finally in old age is swallowed up in the ocean of death. A very pretty
+parable, but somewhat stale. It is time that life was indicated by a new
+metaphor. Let us therefore compare the life of man to the ocean itself.
+Like the ocean life has its calms and storms, its sullen rages, its
+caressing moments; and like the ocean--for this is the main point of the
+illustration--it has its profound depths, containing a hundred secrets
+unknown to the outer world. Francis Hilliston was like the ocean: all
+knew the surface, few were acquainted with the depths below.
+
+A man who leads a double life need never feel dull. He may be nervous,
+anxious, fearful lest his secret should be discovered, but the constant
+vigilance required to hide it preserves him from the curse of ennui. He
+ever keeps the best side of his nature uppermost; his smiles are for the
+world, his brow is smoothed to lull suspicion. But to continue the
+simile of the ocean: in the depths lie many terrible things which never
+come to the surface; things which he scarcely dare admit even to
+himself. Francis Hilliston was one of these men.
+
+Everyone knew Hilliston of Lincoln's Inn Fields, or thought they did,
+which is quite a different thing. He was widely respected in the
+profession; he was popular in society; hand and glove with prominent and
+wealthy personages. His house at Kensington Gore was richly furnished;
+his wife was handsome and fashionable; he gave splendid entertainments,
+at which none was more jocund than the host himself; he was, outwardly,
+all that was prosperous and popular. In his professional capacity he was
+the repository of a thousand secrets, but of all these none was more
+terrible than the one locked up in his own breast.
+
+Long years of training, constant necessity, had taught him how to
+control his emotions, to turn his face into a mask of inscrutability;
+yet he succeeded ill at times, as witness his interview with the two
+young men. Not all his powers of self-repression could keep his face
+from turning gray; nor prevent the perspiration beading his brow; nor
+steady his voice to well-bred indifference. Usually he succeeded in
+masking his emotion; this time he had failed, and, worst of all, he knew
+that he had failed.
+
+It was not Claude that he feared, for the young man was not of a
+suspicious nature; and even had he been so, would certainly have scoffed
+at the idea of attributing any evil to the one who had been to him a
+father. Tait, silent, observant, and cynical, was the person to be
+dreaded. Accustomed by his profession to read faces, Hilliston had seen
+that the quiet little man was possessed of one of those inquisitive
+penetrative natures, which suspect all men, and from a look, a gesture,
+a pause, can draw evidence to support any suspicion they may entertain.
+
+Certainly Tait had no reason to distrust Hilliston when he entered the
+room, but during the interview he appeared dissatisfied with the
+lawyer's manner. That Hilliston should attempt to dissuade Claude from
+prosecuting a search for his father's murderer seemed strange; but that
+he should betray such marked agitation at the idea of such searching
+taking place was stranger still. Altogether Tait left the office in a
+very dissatisfied state of mind. Hilliston had sufficient penetration to
+note this, and when left alone was at his wit's end how to baffle the
+unwarrantable curiosity of this intruder.
+
+"I don't mind Claude," he said, pacing up and down the room, "he has not
+sufficient brain power to find out anything. I do not want him to know.
+But this Tait is dangerous. He is one of those dogged creatures, who
+puts his nose to the scent, and never leaves the trail till the prey is
+captured. It is with him I have to deal, not with Claude."
+
+His agitation almost mastered him, and he hurriedly took a small bottle
+from a drawer in his desk. Dropping the contents of this into a glass of
+water, he drank off the draught, and in a short space of time regained
+his composure, in some measure. Then he sat down to think, and plot, and
+plan how to baffle the vigilance of Tait.
+
+"That infernal woman has done it all," he muttered savagely; "she has
+lighted the fire. Let us see how she will put it out. But she cannot put
+it out," he added, striking his forehead with his clenched fist; "it
+will blaze and burn. I shall burn with it unless----"
+
+There was a strange smile on his lips, as an idea entered his mind, and
+he glanced quickly at his watch.
+
+"Four o'clock. Claude can't possibly call on Margaret to-day, so I have
+yet time to prepare her for his visit. I must silence her at any cost.
+She must hold her tongue or ruin us both. Great Heavens! to think that
+she should break out like this after five-and-twenty years. It is enough
+to drive me mad."
+
+By this time he had put on his gloves, and stretched his hand toward his
+hat, which stood on a side table. A glance in the glass showed him how
+old and gray he looked, and the sight was so unexpected that he started
+in dismay.
+
+"Bah! I look as though I were going to fail," he said to himself, "but I
+must not fail. I dare not fail. At sixty, rich, honored, respected, I am
+not going to fall from the pedestal I have reached. I shall reassure
+Claude. I shall baffle Tait. I shall silence Margaret. The first move in
+the game is mine."
+
+Calm, dignified, easy, he left his office, and stepped into the brougham
+waiting at the door. To judge by appearance, one would have thought him
+the most respectable and upright man in London. No one knew what lurked
+behind that benevolent expression. His mask had fallen for the moment
+when Tait was present; now it was on again, and he went forth to deceive
+the world. Yet he had an uneasy consciousness that one man at least
+guessed his real character.
+
+"Never mind," he thought, as the footman closed the door of the
+brougham, "it will be strange if, with my age and experience and
+reputation and money, I cannot baffle him."
+
+He did not go direct home, as it was yet early, and he had one or two
+things to do in connection with his new task. First he drove to Tait's
+chambers, and ascertained from the porter that the two young men were
+within.
+
+"Never mind sending up my name, I won't disturb them," he said, when the
+porter requested his card. "I only wished to speak to Mr. Tait about a
+box at the theater."
+
+"If it is the Lyceum you mean, sir, I have just got two stalls for Mr.
+Tait."
+
+"Ah! I may see them there," replied Hilliston negligently; and as he
+drove away reflected: "Good! They have not yet been to Hampstead; nor do
+they intend to go to-night. Mr. Tait has yet to learn the value of
+time."
+
+Driving through Piccadilly he stopped at a bookshop, and with some
+difficulty, for the demand was large, obtained a copy of "A Whim of
+Fate." He began to read it in the brougham, and skimmed its pages so
+rapidly that by the time he reached Kensington Gore he had nearly
+finished the first volume. He did not recognize himself in the character
+of Michael Dene, and became more convinced than ever that the
+coincidence of the Larcher affair forming the plot of a novel, was due
+to the author's reading the case in some old provincial newspaper. On
+every page it betrayed that, to him, the story was hearsay.
+
+Fortunately Mrs. Hilliston was driving in the Park, so the lawyer shut
+himself up in his library, and went on reading the story. He did not see
+his wife till dinner, which took place at eight o'clock, and then
+descended in his ordinary clothes, looking ill and pale. Something he
+had read in the novel had startled him more than he cared to
+confess--even to himself.
+
+"You must excuse my dress, Louise," he said, on taking his seat, "but I
+have been so engrossed with a novel that I did not hear the dressing
+bell."
+
+"It has not had a pleasant effect on you," replied his wife, smiling;
+"you do not look at all well."
+
+"I am not well," said Hilliston, who merely trifled with his food; "you
+must excuse me going with you to the Lamberts' to-night, as I think I
+shall call in and see my doctor."
+
+"Are you so bad as all that?" questioned Mrs. Hilliston anxiously. "Why
+not send for Dr. Bland?"
+
+"I prefer going to see him, Louise. You will probably not be back till
+three in the morning, so I will go to bed immediately on my return. Have
+no fear, my dear, it is only a trifling indisposition."
+
+After these plain statements it was rather strange that Hilliston, in
+place of driving to Dr. Bland's, who lived in Hill Street, should direct
+the cab, which he picked up by the Park railings, to drive to Hampstead.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+                              MRS. BEZEL.
+
+
+ONE cannot always judge by appearances either as regards human beings or
+houses. Mr. Hilliston was one excellent illustration of this rule;
+Clarence Cottage was another. It was in a narrow and crooked lane
+trending downward to the right, at the summit of Fitzjohn's Avenue; an
+unpretentious two-story building, divided from the public thoroughfare
+by a well-cultivated garden. Therein grew thyme and lavender, marigolds
+and pansies; for the owner of the cottage loved those homely flowers,
+and daily gazed at them from the bow-window wherein her couch was
+placed.
+
+Mrs. Bezel never walked in her garden, for the all-sufficient reason
+that she was a helpless paralytic, and had not used her limbs for over
+ten years. Still a moderately young woman of forty-five, she possessed
+the remains of great beauty, ravaged by years of anxiety and mental
+trouble. Those passing along the lane usually saw her pale face at the
+window, and pitied the sufferings written in every line; sufferings
+which were apparent even to a casual glance. Noting the homely garden,
+the mean-looking dwelling, the anxious expression of the invalid, they
+deemed her to be some poor sickly creature, the scapegoat of nature and
+the world, who had sought this secluded spot in order to hide her
+troubles. This view was not entirely correct.
+
+She was in ill-health, it is true; she dwelt in a small house certainly;
+and the anxious expression was seldom absent from her face. But she was
+in easy circumstances, untroubled by pecuniary worries, and the interior
+of the cottage was furnished with a magnificence more suggestive of Park
+Lane than of Hampstead. The outward aspect of the house, like that of
+Mr. Hilliston, was a lie.
+
+Her sitting room resembled the boudoir of some Mayfair beauty. The
+curtains were of silk, the carpet velvet pile, the walls were adorned
+with costly pictures, and every corner of the small apartment was filled
+with sumptuous furniture. All that art could contribute, all that
+affection could suggest, were confined in the tiny space, and had Mrs.
+Bezel possessed the mines of Golconda she could not have been more
+luxuriously lodged. The house was a gem of its kind, perfect and
+splendid.
+
+Mrs. Bezel took little interest in these material comforts. Her life was
+passed between a couch in the bow-window, a well-cushioned chair by the
+fire, and a downy bed in the next room. She had little appetite and did
+not enjoy her food; mental anxiety prevented her interesting herself in
+the splendors around her; and the only pleasure she took was her dreary
+journey in a Bath-chair when the weather permitted. Then, as she inhaled
+the fresh breeze blowing across the Heath, she gazed with longing eyes
+at London, almost hidden under its foggy veil, far below, and always
+returned with reluctance to the familiar splendors of her narrow
+dwelling. Fortune had given her much, but by way of compensation had
+deprived her of the two things she most desired--of health and of love.
+
+Even on this warm June evening a fire burned in the grate, for Mrs.
+Bezel was a chilly creature, who shrunk at the least breath of wind.
+According to custom, she had left the window couch at seven o'clock, and
+had taken her simple meal while seated in her large chair to the right
+of the fireplace. After dinner she took up a novel which was placed on a
+small table at her elbow, and tried to read; but her attention was not
+fixed on the book, and gradually it fell from her hands, while she gazed
+idly at the fire.
+
+What she saw therein Heaven only knows. We all have our moments of
+retrospection, and can picture the past in the burning coals. Some even
+picture the future, but there was none for this woman. She was old,
+weary, diseased, worn-out, and therefore saw in the fire only the
+shadows of past years. Faces looked out of the flaming valleys, scenes
+arranged themselves in the red confusion; but among them all there was
+always one face, one scene, which never vanished as did the others. This
+special face, this particular scene, were fixed, immovable, cruel, and
+insistent.
+
+The chime of the clock striking half-past nine roused her from her
+reverie, and she again addressed herself to the novel with a sigh.
+Tortured by her own thoughts, Mrs. Bezel was not accustomed to retire
+before midnight, and there were nearly three hours to be got through
+before that time. Her life was as dreary, and weary, and heart-breaking
+as that of Mariana in the Moated Grange.
+
+The tread of a firm footfall in the distance roused her attention, and
+she looked expectantly toward the door, which faced her chair. The
+newcomer passed up the narrow garden path, entered the house, and, after
+a pause in the hall, presented himself in the sitting room. Mrs. Bezel
+knew who it was before the door opened; for standing on the threshold
+was the man with the face she had lately pictured amid the burning
+coals. Francis Hilliston and the woman who called herself Mrs. Bezel
+looked steadily at one another, but no sign of welcome passed between
+them. He was the first to break the awkward silence.
+
+"How are you this evening, Margaret?" he asked, advancing toward her;
+"better, I hope. There is more color in your cheeks, more brightness in
+your eyes."
+
+"I am the same as ever," she replied coldly, while he drew a chair close
+to the fire, and stretched out his hands to the blaze. "Why have you
+come here at this hour?"
+
+"To see you."
+
+"No doubt! But with what purpose?"
+
+Hilliston pinched his nether lip between finger and thumb, frowning the
+while at the fire. Whatever had been, there was now no love between this
+woman and himself. But on no occasion had he noted so hostile a tone in
+her voice. He was aware that a duel of words and brains was about to
+ensue, and, knowing his antagonist, he took the button off his foil.
+There was no need for fine speaking or veiled hints in this
+conversation. It was advisable that all should be plain and
+straightforward, for they knew each other too well to wear their masks
+when alone. Under these circumstances he spoke the truth.
+
+"I think you can guess my errand," he said suavely. "It concerns the
+letter you wrote to Claude Larcher."
+
+"I thought as much! And what more have you to say in connection with
+that affair?"
+
+"I have merely to inform you that the man whom you desire to see is in
+London, and will no doubt answer your kind invitation in person."
+
+Mrs. Bezel stretched out her hand and selected a letter from the little
+pile on her table.
+
+"If you will look at that," she said coldly, "you will see that Claude
+intends to call on me at three o'clock to-morrow."
+
+Taking the letter in silence, Hilliston turned frightfully pale, and the
+perspiration stood in large beads on his forehead. He expected some such
+appointment to be made, yet the evidence in his hand startled him all
+the same. The promptitude of action spoke volumes to one of his acute
+perceptions. To defend his good name would require all his skill and
+experience, for he had to do with men of action, who acted as quickly as
+they thought. The duel would be more equal than he had thought.
+
+"Are you still determined to tell all," he said in a low tone, crushing
+the paper up in his hand.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The monosyllable was uttered in so icy a manner that Hilliston lost his
+temper completely. Before this woman there was no need for him to retain
+his smiling mask, and in a frenzy of rage he hurried into rapid speech,
+frantic and unconsidered.
+
+"Ah, you would ruin me!" he cried, springing to his feet; "you would
+drag up those follies of '66, and make London too hot to hold me! Have I
+not implored, threatened, beseeched, commanded--done everything in my
+power to make you hold your peace? Miserable woman, would you drag the
+man you love down to----"
+
+"The man I loved you mean," responded Mrs. Bezel, in nowise moved by
+this torrent of abuse. "Pray do not be theatrical, Francis. You know me
+well enough to be aware that when my mind is made up I am not easily
+moved. A man of your brains," she added scornfully, "should know that
+loss of temper is but the prelude to defeat."
+
+Recognizing the truth of this remark, Hilliston resumed his seat, and
+subdued his anger. Only the look of hatred in his eyes betrayed his real
+feelings; otherwise he was calm, suave, and self-controlled.
+
+"Have you weighed the cost of your action?" he demanded quietly.
+
+"Yes. It means ruin to us both. But the loss is yours, not mine.
+Helpless and deserted, life has no further charms for me, but you, Mr.
+Hilliston, doubtless feel differently."
+
+"Margaret," he said entreatingly, "why do you speak like this? What harm
+have I done you that----"
+
+"What harm!" she interrupted fiercely. "Have you not ruined me, have you
+not deserted me, have you not robbed me of all that I loved? My life has
+been one long agony, and you are to blame for it all. Not a word," she
+continued imperiously. "I shall speak. I insist upon your knowing the
+truth!"
+
+"Go on," he said sullenly; "I listen."
+
+"I loved you once, Francis. I loved you to my own cost. For your sake I
+lost everything--position, home, respect, and love. And you--what did
+you do?"
+
+Hilliston looked round the room, and shrugged his shoulders. Look and
+gesture were so eloquent that she commented on them at once.
+
+"Do you think I valued this splendor? I know well enough that you gave
+me all material comforts. But I wanted more than this. I wanted love."
+
+"You had it."
+
+"Aye! I had the passion such as you call love. Did it endure? You know
+well that it did not. So long as I was healthy and handsome and bright
+your attentions continued, but when I was reduced to this state, ten
+years ago, what did you do? Left me to marry another woman."
+
+"It was not my fault," he muttered uneasily; "my affairs were involved,
+and, as my wife had money, I was forced to marry her."
+
+"And you did marry her, and no doubt neglect her as you do me. Is Mrs.
+Hilliston any happier in her splendid house at Kensington Gore than I in
+this miserable cottage? I think not. I waited and waited, hoping your
+love would return. It did not; so I took my own course--revenge!"
+
+"And so wrote to Claude Larcher!"
+
+"Yes. Listen to me. I wrote the first letter on the impulse of the
+moment. I had been reading a book called 'A Whim of Fate,' which
+contained----"
+
+"I know! I know! I read it myself this evening."
+
+"Then you know that someone else is possessed of your secret. Who is
+John Parver?"
+
+"I don't know. I intend to find out. Meanwhile I am waiting to hear the
+conclusion of your story."
+
+Mrs. Bezel drew a long breath, and continued:
+
+"The book, which contained an account of the tragedy at Horriston,
+brought the fact so visibly before me that I wrote on the impulse
+telling you that I wished to see Claude, and reveal all. You came and
+implored and threatened. Then my impulse became a fixed determination. I
+saw how I could punish you for your neglect, and so persisted in my
+scheme. I wrote to Claude, and he is coming here to-morrow."
+
+"What do you intend to tell him?"
+
+"So much of the death of his father as I know."
+
+"You must not--you dare not," said Hilliston, with dry lips. "It means
+ruin!"
+
+"To you, not to me."
+
+"Impossible," he said curtly. "Our relations are too close for one to
+fall without the other."
+
+"So you think," rejoined Mrs. Bezel coolly; "but I know how to protect
+myself. And of one thing you may be assured, I will say nothing against
+you. All I intend to do is to tell him of his father's death."
+
+"He knows it already."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes! Did you think I was not going to be beforehand with you," sneered
+Hilliston triumphantly. "I guessed your intention when you wrote me that
+letter, and when Claude arrived in town I saw him before he could call
+here. I did not intend to tell him of the matter till your action forced
+me to do so. He has read all the papers in connection with his father's
+death, and intends to hunt down the murderer. Now, do you see what you
+have done?"
+
+Apparently the brutal plainness of this speech strongly affected Mrs.
+Bezel. It seemed as though she had not comprehended till that moment
+what might be the result of her actions. Now an abyss opened at her
+feet, and she felt a qualm of fear.
+
+"Nevertheless, I intend to go on now that I have begun," she said
+gloomily. "I will answer any questions Claude may ask me."
+
+"You will put him in possession of a clew."
+
+"It is not improbable; but, as I said, life has no charms for me."
+
+"You don't think of my sufferings," said Hilliston bitterly, rising to
+his feet.
+
+"Did you think of mine during all these lonely years?" she retorted,
+with a sneer. "I shall punish you, as you punished me. There is such a
+thing as justice in this world."
+
+"Well, I warn you that I shall protect myself."
+
+"That is your lookout. But I will show you this mercy, as I said before.
+That nothing will be told by me of your connection with this affair. As
+to myself, I will act as I think best."
+
+"You will tell him who you are?"
+
+"Yes; I will tell him my real name."
+
+"Then I am lost!"
+
+"Surely not," she rejoined scornfully. "Francis Hilliston is old enough
+in villainy and experience to protect himself against a mere boy."
+
+"It is not Claude I fear, but his friend, Spenser Tait. He is the
+dangerous person. But enough of this," added Hilliston, striking the
+table imperiously. "I forbid you to indulge in these follies. You know I
+have a means whereby to compel your obedience."
+
+"It is your possession of that means that has turned me against you,"
+she retorted dauntlessly. "If you give me back my----"
+
+"Margaret! Not a word more! Let things remain as they are."
+
+"I have said what I intend to do."
+
+Hilliston ground his teeth. He knew that nothing he could say or do
+would shake the determination of this woman. He had already experienced
+her resolute will, and not even the means of which he spoke would shake
+her immovability. There was nothing more but to retire and protect
+himself as best he could. At all events, she promised to remain neutral
+so far as he was concerned. That was something gained. Before leaving
+the house, however, he made one final effort to force her to his will.
+
+"I will not give you any more money."
+
+"I don't care, Francis. This cottage and its contents are settled on me.
+A sale of this furniture will produce sufficient money to last my life.
+I can't live long now."
+
+"I will deny all your statements."
+
+"Do so!"
+
+"I will have you declared insane and shut up in an asylum."
+
+Mrs. Bezel laughed scornfully, and pointed toward the door.
+
+"If that is all you have to say you had better go," she said jeeringly.
+"You know well enough that you cannot harm me without jeopardizing your
+own position."
+
+They looked at one another fiercely, each trying to outstare the other.
+Hilliston's eyes were the first to fall, and he hastily turned toward
+the door.
+
+"So be it," he said, with his hand on the knob; "you want war. You shall
+have it. See Claude, tell him all. I can defend myself."
+
+On leaving the house a few minutes later, he paused irresolutely by the
+gate and looked back.
+
+"If I could only find the paper," he muttered, "she could do nothing. As
+it is----"
+
+He made a gesture of despair and plunged into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+                  A FEW FACTS CONNECTED WITH THE CASE.
+
+
+WHEN the two young men left Lincoln's Inn Fields after the momentous
+interview with Hilliston, they walked on in silence for some distance,
+each busied with his own thoughts. Like most solitaries, Tait had a
+habit of speaking aloud, and, unmindful of the presence of Claude, he
+stopped short at the gate of the New Law Courts to give vent to his
+feelings.
+
+"It is decidedly suspicious," he said in a low tone, "and quite
+inexplicable."
+
+"What are you talking about?" asked Claude irritably, whereupon Tait
+became aware that he was not alone, but nevertheless showed no
+disposition to balk the question.
+
+"I was thinking of Mr. Hilliston," he returned quietly. "I am not at all
+satisfied with his conduct. He is hostile to us, Claude."
+
+"Hostile? Impossible! He is doing all in his power to help us."
+
+"So it appears," answered Tait dryly. "Nevertheless I think that he
+intends to thwart us in our plans--if he can."
+
+"Now you are talking nonsense," said Claude, as they resumed their walk.
+"Why, he first brought the case under my notice."
+
+"And why? Because he wanted to be beforehand with Mrs. Bezel. If he had
+not told she would have done so, and naturally enough he wished to be
+first in the field."
+
+"But I can't think ill of him," protested Larcher. "He has been a second
+father to me."
+
+"No doubt! There is such a thing as remorse."
+
+"Remorse? You are mad!"
+
+"Not at all. I am suspicious. We will discuss Mr. Hilliston later on,
+when I will give you my reasons for speaking thus. Meanwhile he has
+decided to play a game against us!"
+
+"Nonsense! He has no motive."
+
+"Pardon me. I think he has, but what it is I am unable to say--as yet.
+However, he will make two moves in the game within the next twenty-four
+hours."
+
+"Indeed," said Claude ironically, "perhaps you can tell me what those
+two moves will be."
+
+"Certainly," answered Tait serenely. "As to the first, he will call at
+my rooms to find out if we have gone to see Mrs. Bezel to-night,
+and----"
+
+"Why at your rooms?"
+
+"Because he thinks you are staying with me. And, moreover, knowing that
+we are acting together, he knows your movements will coincide with
+mine."
+
+"Ah! And the second move?"
+
+"He will write you a letter asking you to stay with him at Kensington
+Gore."
+
+"I don't see what there is suspicious about that," said Claude
+petulantly.
+
+"I know you don't. But it is my belief that he is afraid of your
+investigations in this case, and wishes to keep you under his eye."
+
+"But good Heavens, man! he advised me to pursue the matter."
+
+"On the contrary, he advised you to let sleeping dogs lie."
+
+"So he did," cried Claude, with a sudden recollection of the interview.
+"But why? What harm can my investigations do to him?"
+
+"Ah! That is a difficult question to answer," said Tait reflectingly.
+"To my mind they will show that Hilliston was not the friend of your
+father he pretended to be."
+
+"But according to those papers he acted like a friend throughout."
+
+"Yes, according to those papers."
+
+Larcher faced round suddenly, struck by the significance of the remark.
+He was a clever young man, but could not see clearly before him, and
+honest himself, was far from suspecting dishonesty in others. Instead of
+agreeing with Tait in his estimate of Hilliston, he vehemently defended
+the lawyer.
+
+"You must not speak like that, Tait," he said angrily. "Mr. Hilliston is
+an honest man, and has been like a father to me. I owe all to him."
+
+"Perhaps you do," retorted Tait significantly. "However, we need not
+quarrel over the matter. I am content to wait, and will bet you five
+pounds that the inquiry is made to-night, and the letter is sent
+to-morrow."
+
+Larcher did not accept the bet thus confidently offered, but walked on
+stiffly with his head in the air. He was seriously annoyed with Tait for
+daring to cast an imputation on the character of a man to whom he owed
+all. Never could he bring himself to believe that Hilliston intended him
+evil, and deemed that the lawyer, despite his manifest reluctance, would
+help him by all the means in his power to discover the assassin.
+
+Nevertheless, Tait proved to be in the right. As the two young men
+passed down the stairs on their way to the theater--whence Tait insisted
+on taking Claude with a view of distracting his mind--they were met by
+the porter.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," addressing himself to Tait, "but a gentleman called
+some time ago and asked for you and Mr. Larcher."
+
+"Who was he? Why did you not show him up?"
+
+"He would not give his name, sir, and did not wish to come up. He only
+asked if you had a box for the theater, and when I said you had stalls,
+drove off."
+
+"Ah! Can you describe his appearance?"
+
+"Not very tall, sir. Clean shaven, with white hair and a red face.
+Looked like a country gentleman, sir."
+
+"Thank you! that will do," replied Tait quietly, and left the house with
+Claude.
+
+For a few minutes he enjoyed his companion's astonishment at this proof
+of Hilliston's double-dealing, and it was not till they were in the cab
+that he spoke.
+
+"Well," he said, smiling, "was I not right when I said that he would
+make the first move?"
+
+"You are right so far," muttered Claude, who looked ill at ease, "but I
+cannot bring myself to suspect my guardian."
+
+"You want another proof, perhaps. Well, we will wait for your invitation
+to Kensington Gore."
+
+Claude shook his head, and seemed so indisposed to talk that Tait judged
+it wise to humor his silence. The young man's thoughts were anything but
+pleasant. He had been accustomed to look up to Hilliston as the model of
+an English gentleman, honest, honorable, upright, and noble. If, then,
+this suspicion of Tait's should prove correct,--and the last act of
+Hilliston certainly gave color to it,--where was he to find honest and
+honorable men? If Hilliston proved false, then Claude felt he could no
+longer trust the human race. Still he fought against the supposition,
+and secretly hoped that the second prophecy of his friend would not be
+fulfilled.
+
+Alas, for his hopes! At eleven the next morning, while they were
+discussing the situation, a letter was delivered to Claude by special
+messenger. It proved to be from Hilliston, and contained a warm
+invitation for Larcher to take up his abode at the Kensington Gore
+house. "As you may only be in London for a short period, my dear
+Claude," wrote his guardian, "my wife and I must see as much of you as
+possible." With a bitter smile Claude tossed the letter across to Tait.
+
+"You see I was right," said the latter, for the second time, after
+skimming the note. "Mr. Hilliston is playing a double game. He wishes to
+keep you under his eye, thinking that, as you trust him, you will keep
+him informed as to your doings, so that being forewarned he may be
+forearmed."
+
+"Do you really think he is my enemy, Tait?"
+
+"I am really not prepared to say," replied the little man, with some
+hesitation. "His behavior of yesterday struck me as suspicious. He
+seemed unnecessarily agitated, and moreover urged you not to see Mrs.
+Bezel. Perhaps he thinks she will tell you too much. Taking all these
+facts into consideration I cannot help thinking that Hilliston is asking
+you to his house for some motive in connection with our search."
+
+"But he showed me the papers."
+
+"I know that, but as I told you yesterday it was Hobson's choice with
+him. If he hadn't imparted the information, Mrs. Bezel would have done
+so. Of two evils he chose the least, and by showing you the papers
+proved to all outward appearance that he was your firm friend. Should
+you bring any charge against him, he will meet it by the very argument
+you have just made use of."
+
+"Good Heavens!" groaned Claude, in despair, "is everybody as treacherous
+as you think him to be."
+
+"A good number of people are," replied Tait suavely. "A long residence
+in London does not strengthen one's belief in human nature. It is a city
+of wild beasts,--of wolves and foxes,--who rend and betray for the
+gaining of their own ends. If Hilliston is what I believe him to be, we
+must do our best to baffle him; and so you must continue to be his
+friend."
+
+"How can I, if he wishes to betray me?"
+
+"Ah, you are so unsophisticated, Claude," said the hardened man of the
+world; "you betray your feelings too plainly. In this city it is worse
+than madness to wear your heart on your sleeve. If you are convinced
+that Hilliston bears you ill----"
+
+"I am not convinced. I can't believe any man would be so base."
+
+"Ah, bah, that is a want of experience," retorted Tait, raising his
+eyebrows; "I'll pick you out a dozen of my decent friends who are as
+base or baser than I believe them to be. Respectability is all a
+question of concealment nowadays, and it must be confessed that your
+guardian wears his mask very prettily."
+
+"But do you think he is----"
+
+"Never mind what I think," interrupted Tait impatiently. "Hilliston may
+turn out to be an angel, after all. But his conduct of yesterday and
+this morning appears to be suspicious, and in dealing with the matters
+we have in hand it is as well to be careful. Keep your faith in
+Hilliston if it assists you to continue the friendship. He must suspect
+nothing."
+
+"Do you then wish me to accept this invitation?"
+
+"No. Why go into the lion's den? Write and thank him and--decline."
+
+"I have no excuse."
+
+"Indeed! Then I will provide you with one. You are engaged to stay with
+me at Thorston for a month. By the end of that time you will know
+sufficient of Hilliston to decide for yourself as to the wisdom of
+accepting or declining his invitation."
+
+"But if we go to Thorston we cannot prosecute our inquiries."
+
+"Yes, we can. I tell you that book, which contains the story of your
+father's murder, also contains a description of Thorston. I recognize
+every scene."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well," repeated Tait sharply, "can't you see? The author of that book
+must either live at Thorston or have stayed a few months there. Else he
+could not have described the village so accurately. We must make
+inquiries about him there, and should we be fortunate enough to discover
+him, we must extract his secret."
+
+"What secret?"
+
+"Upon my word, Claude, you are either stupid or cunning. Why, find out
+where he got his material from. That may put us on the right track. Now,
+write to Hilliston, and then go up to Hampstead and find out what Mrs.
+Bezel has to say."
+
+"Won't you come, too?" said Claude, going to the writing desk.
+
+"No. I have my own business to attend to."
+
+"Is it connected with our enterprise?"
+
+"I should think so. It is my intention to call on the firm who published
+'A Whim of Fate,' and find out all I can concerning the author. When you
+return from Mrs. Bezel we will compare notes, and on what information we
+obtain will depend our future movements."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+                         A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
+
+
+IN one of his novels Balzac makes the pertinent remark that "It is
+impossible for man to understand the heart of woman, seeing that her
+Creator himself does not understand it." These are not the precise
+words, but the sentiment is the same. And who, indeed, can understand a
+woman's heart; who can aver that he has a complete comprehension of her
+character? Very young men lay claim to such knowledge, but as they grow
+older, and the vanity of youth gives way to the modesty begotten by
+experience, they no longer pretend to such omniscience, and humbly admit
+their inability to solve the riddle of femininity. Had the Sphinx
+proposed such an enigma to oedipus he would not have been able to guess
+it, and so, meeting the fate of other victims, would have deprived
+Thebes of a king and Sophicles of a tragedy.
+
+Yet, if we bear in mind that women work rather from impulse than from
+motive, we may arrive at some knowledge of the organ in question. If a
+woman is impulsive, and most women are, she acts directly on those
+impulses; and so startles men by paradoxical actions. As a rule, the
+male intellect has logical reasons wherefrom it deduces motives upon
+which to act. Not so with women. They obey the impulse of the moment,
+reckless of the consequence to themselves or to anyone else.
+Consequently, it is impossible to foretell how a woman will act in a
+given circumstance, but it may be asserted that she will obey the latest
+thought in her mind. Even from this point of view, the feminine mind is
+still a riddle; but one which is more capable of explanation.
+
+For example, Mrs. Bezel read "A Whim of Fate," and thus, after
+five-and-twenty years, the Horriston tragedy was freshly impressed on
+her brain. Seized with remorse, terrified by the memory of the crime,
+she, acting on the impulse, wrote to Hilliston stating that she intended
+to see Claude Larcher and reveal all. The dismay of the lawyer at this
+mad proposal, and his steady opposition thereto, turned what was
+originally a mere whim into a fixed idea. She saw a way of punishing the
+man for the withdrawal of his love ten years before, when she lost her
+beauty and became paralyzed. Delighted at learning that she had still
+some power to wound him, she persisted in her project, and so wrote the
+letter to Larcher, which he received the day after his arrival in
+London.
+
+To baffle Hilliston, and prevent him from intercepting the letter, she
+was obliged to use all her wits, and so hit on the idea of learning the
+name of the young man's club. How she managed to obtain it is best known
+to herself; but Hilliston, never dreaming of this pertinacity, was
+unable to thwart her schemes, and, beyond writing to Claude, telling him
+to call, could do nothing. Had he guessed that she would address her
+invitation to the club, he might have called and obtained it in the
+character of Larcher's guardian; but, knowing her helpless condition,
+the thought that it might be there never entered his mind. So the letter
+arrived, was duly answered, and Claude was coming to-day at three
+o'clock to hear what Mrs. Bezel had to say.
+
+The visit, though due to her own action, was a source of considerable
+anxiety; for she was not at all certain of what she would say. It was
+impossible to tell all without inculpating Hilliston, and this, for
+reasons of her own, Mrs. Bezel was unwilling to do. All her talk of the
+previous night had been so much rodomontade to frighten the man she
+hated, but she was too well aware of her dependent position to think of
+doing him an injury. Her impulse had led her into deep water, as she
+knew instinctively.
+
+She was a woman who had lived every moment of her life, but now,
+stretched on a bed of sickness, she missed her former triumphs and
+excitements. This visit promised a great deal of amusement, and the use
+of much diplomacy, therefore she was unwilling to abandon her plans. At
+the same time she determined to give the young man as little information
+as she possibly could. It would not be through her agency that the mask
+would be torn from Hilliston's face. She was resolved on that point.
+
+Yet the matter, starting originally from an impulse, had now gone too
+far for her to draw back. Claude had seen the papers, and therefrom must
+have guessed that she desired to impart certain information with regard
+to the crime which had cost him a father. Mrs. Bezel therefore
+compromised the matter, and settled in her own mind to tell him half the
+truth, or, at all events, only sufficient to interest him without aiding
+him. Had she been a man, and had taken this decision, all would have
+gone well, but being a woman she reckoned without her impulse, and it
+betrayed her.
+
+Moreover, she had a revelation to make which would effectively tie
+Larcher's hands should he learn too much; but this she did not intend to
+make unless driven into a corner. She was in that corner before the
+interview was finished, though she little expected to get there.
+Hilliston, clever as he was, could not understand her present actions;
+she did not understand them herself, else she would not have ventured to
+receive Claude Larcher.
+
+He duly arrived at three o'clock, and Mrs. Bezel glanced approvingly at
+his stalwart figure and handsome face. Claude had one of those
+sympathetic, yet manly, natures, to which women are instinctively drawn
+by the law of sex, and Mrs. Bezel proved no exception to this rule. She
+was too thoroughly a woman not to relish masculine society, and, despite
+her perplexity, was glad she had sent the invitation, if only for the
+sake of talking to this splendid looking young man. There was another
+reason, which she revealed in a moment of impulse. But that was later
+on.
+
+Meanwhile Claude, seated by her couch in the window, was wondering who
+she was, and why she had sought this interview. He was certainly aware
+that she had some information to impart concerning the fate of his
+parents, but as he had not seen her name in the papers containing the
+account of the case, he was at a loss to fix her identity. His doubts
+were soon set at rest. Mrs. Bezel was a more prominent actor in the
+Horriston tragedy than he had any idea of.
+
+"You were doubtless astonished to get my letter," said Mrs. Bezel, when
+the first greetings were over, "especially as you do not remember your
+parents, and my name is also unknown to you."
+
+"Were you a friend of my parents, madam?" asked Claude, too anxious for
+information to reply directly to her remark.
+
+"Yes. I--I knew them. That is, I lived at Horriston," stammered Mrs.
+Bezel, passing a handkerchief across her dry lips.
+
+"You lived at Horriston? At the time of the murder?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel nodded; she was not yet sufficiently self-controlled for
+speech.
+
+"In that case," continued Claude eagerly, "you must know all the details
+of the crime."
+
+"Only those that were reported in the papers."
+
+"Still you must be acquainted with those concerned in the tragedy. With
+my father, with Jeringham, Denis Bantry, with Mona, his sister."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Bezel calmly; "I knew them all."
+
+"Have you any idea who committed the crime?"
+
+"Not the slightest."
+
+"But you must have some suspicions?"
+
+"Oh, yes! But they may be wrong. I believe that Mr. Jeringham had
+something to do with it."
+
+"Oh!" said Claude, remembering Hilliston's opinion, "some believe him to
+be guilty."
+
+"I cannot say for certain," replied Mrs. Bezel, shaking her head. "The
+flight of Mr. Jeringham certainly showed that he had something to
+conceal."
+
+"What kind of a man was Mr. Jeringham?"
+
+"Tall and fair. Amiable as a rule, but liable to violent passions."
+
+"Was he not in love with my mother before she married my father?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel turned away her head, and the color rose to her face. The
+nervous movement of her hands plucking at her dress showed how
+profoundly she was moved by this question.
+
+"I believe so. But she--Mrs. Larcher loved her husband."
+
+"Then why was my father jealous of Jeringham?" said Claude, who could
+not reconcile this statement with the evidence given at the trial.
+
+"How should I know?" cried Mrs. Bezel, turning on him with sudden
+passion. "If George Larcher had not been so blinded by jealousy he would
+have seen that there was nothing between them. Your mother knew
+Jeringham all his life; they were like brother and sister. It is true he
+wished to marry her, but when he saw that her heart was given to your
+father, he bowed to her decision. He came to Horriston as her friend,
+not as her lover."
+
+"But he was constantly with her."
+
+"Do you dare to speak thus of your mother, sir?"
+
+"I--I cannot help doing so," stammered Claude, startled by the anger in
+her voice. "God knows I wish to revere the memory of my mother, but I
+cannot help seeing that she was morally responsible for the tragedy."
+
+"She was not! She was not!" said Mrs. Bezel vehemently. "How dare you
+speak thus? Your father neglected her. He left her to the companionship
+of Mark Jeringham, while he indulged in his predilection for literary
+work. All day long he shut himself up in his study, and let his wife sit
+alone, and miserable. Was it any wonder, then, that she should turn to
+her old friend for consolation? There was nothing between them--nothing
+to which any Pharisee could have taken exception."
+
+"But surely my father was sufficiently sensible to see all this?"
+
+"He saw nothing, or what he did see was distorted by his jealousy. The
+police, in their endeavors to fix the crime on your mother, took the
+same view of the relations between her and Jeringham. Oh, I know what
+you read in those papers shown to you by Mr. Hilliston!"
+
+So surprised was Claude by this unexpected introduction of his
+guardian's name that he could not suppress a start.
+
+"How do you know that Mr. Hilliston showed me the papers?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel saw that she had said too much, but, unable to go back on her
+words, rapidly resolved to make that revelation which she had hitherto
+intended to keep as a last resource.
+
+"Mr. Hilliston told me that he had done so."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Bezel, seizing her opportunity to lead up to the
+revelation. "I know him as the best and kindest of men. I know him as
+one who has been a good friend to you--orphan as you thought yourself."
+
+"Orphan as I thought myself," muttered Claude, turning pale. "Is it not
+true--am I not an orphan?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Great Heavens! What is this you tell me? My father----"
+
+"Your father is dead. He was murdered, as you know."
+
+"Then my mother?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel looked at the agonized face of the young man, and covered her
+own, with a quick indrawn breath.
+
+"She lives!"
+
+"My mother! She lives! Are you mad? She died in London shortly after her
+acquittal."
+
+"So it was supposed, but it was not true. Could you expect that unhappy
+woman to face the scorn and contempt of the world after having been
+accused of her husband's murder? She did not die, save to the world. She
+fled from society and sought refuge here--here where she lies a helpless
+invalid."
+
+"Mrs. Bezel!"
+
+"I am not Mrs. Bezel. I am your mother."
+
+"God! My mother!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+                              REVELATIONS.
+
+
+IT was only natural that a silence should ensue between these two so
+strangely brought together. Claude, seated pale and anguished in his
+chair, tried to collect his thoughts, and stared wildly at his mother.
+She, with her face buried in the cushions, sobbed bitterly. After the
+way in which her son had spoken, it was cruel that she should have been
+forced to make such a revelation at such a moment. He condemned, he
+reproached, her conduct in the past, and she again tasted the full
+bitterness of the cup which had been held to her lips twenty-five years
+before.
+
+On his part Claude did not know what to say; he hardly knew what to
+think. Convinced by a perusal of the papers that his mother was morally
+guilty of his father's death, he was overwhelmed to find that she was
+still alive, and capable, for all he knew, of offering a defense for her
+share in the tragedy. After all, he had no right to judge her until he
+heard what she had to say. Blood is thicker than water, and she was his
+mother.
+
+Now he saw the reason why Hilliston objected to his calling at
+Hampstead; why he advised him to let sleeping dogs lie. After so long a
+period it was worse than useless to bring mother and son together. Their
+thoughts, their aims, their lives, were entirely diverse, and only pain
+could be caused by such a meeting. Claude silently acknowledged the
+wisdom of Hilliston's judgment, but at the same time could hardly
+refrain from condemning him for having kept him so long in ignorance of
+the truth.
+
+Mrs. Bezel--as we must still continue to call her--was astonished at
+this long silence, but raised her head to cast a timid glance at Claude.
+His brow was gloomy, his lips were firmly set, and he looked anything
+but overjoyed at the revelation which she had made. Guessing his
+thoughts, the unhappy woman made a gesture of despair, and spoke in a
+low voice, broken by sobs.
+
+"You, too, condemn me?"
+
+"No, mother," he replied, and Mrs. Bezel winced as she heard him
+acknowledge the relationship; "I do not condemn you. I have heard one
+side of the question. I must now hear the other--from you."
+
+"What more can I tell you than what you already know," she said, drying
+her eyes.
+
+"I must know the reason why you let me think you dead all these years."
+
+"It was by my own wish, and by the advice of Mr. Hilliston."
+
+Claude bit his lip at the mention of this name, and cast a hasty glance
+round the splendidly furnished room. A frightful suspicion had entered
+his mind; but she was his mother, and he did not dare to give it
+utterance. His mother guessed his thoughts, and spared him the pain of
+speaking. With a womanly disregard for the truth she promptly lied
+concerning the relationship which her son suspected to exist between his
+guardian and herself.
+
+"You need not look so black, Claude, and think ill of me. I am
+unfortunate, but not guilty. All that you see here is mine; purchased by
+my own money."
+
+"Your own money?" replied Claude, heaving a sigh of relief.
+
+"Yes! Mr. Hilliston, who has been a good friend to me, saved sufficient
+out of my marriage settlement to enable me to furnish this cottage, and
+live comfortably. It is just as well," added she bitterly, "else I might
+have died on the streets."
+
+"But why did you let Hilliston bring me up to think I was an orphan?"
+
+"I did not wish to shadow your life. I did not wish you to change your
+name. I had to change mine, and retire from the world, but that was part
+of my punishment."
+
+"Still if----"
+
+"It was impossible, I tell you, Claude," interrupted his mother
+impatiently. "When you grew up you would have asked questions, and then
+I would have been forced to tell you all."
+
+"Yet, in spite of your precautions, I do know all. If you took all this
+trouble to hide the truth, why reveal it to me now?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel pointed to three books lying on an adjacent table. Claude
+quite understood what she meant.
+
+"I see," he remarked, before she could speak, "you think that the author
+of that book knows about my father's murder."
+
+"I am certain he does. But what he knows, or how he knows, I cannot say.
+Still, I am certain of one thing, that he tells the story from hearsay."
+
+"What makes you think that?"
+
+"It would take too long to tell you my reasons. It is sufficient to
+state that the fictitious case differs from the real case in several
+important particulars. For instance," she added, with a derisive smile,
+"the guilty person is said to be Michael Dene, and he is----"
+
+"Is drawn from Mr. Hilliston."
+
+"How do you know that?" she asked, with a startled air.
+
+Claude shrugged his shoulders. "I have eyes to read and brains to
+comprehend," he said quietly; "There is no doubt in my mind that the
+lawyer of the fiction is meant for the lawyer of real life. Otherwise, I
+think the writer drew on his imagination. It was necessary for him to
+end his story by fixing on one of the characters as a criminal; and
+owing to the exigencies of the plot, as developed by himself, he chose
+Michael Dene, otherwise Mr. Hilliston, as the murderer."
+
+"But you don't think----"
+
+"Oh, no! I don't think Mr. Hilliston is guilty. I read the trial very
+carefully, and moreover I do not see what motive he could have to commit
+the crime."
+
+"The motive of Michael Dene is love for the murdered man's wife."
+
+"In other words, the author assumes that Hilliston loved you," said
+Claude coolly; "but I have your assurance that such is not the case."
+
+"You speak to me like that," cried Mrs. Bezel angrily; "to your mother?"
+
+Larcher's expression did not change. He turned a trifle paler, and
+compressed his lips firmly, otherwise he gave no outward sign of his
+emotion. Knowing so much of the case as he did, he could not look on
+this woman in the light of a mother; she had indirectly contributed to
+his father's death; she had deserted him for twenty-five years; and
+now that she claimed his filial reverence, he was unwilling to yield
+it to her. Perhaps he was unjust and harsh to think this, but the
+natural tie between them was so weakened by time and ignorance that he
+could find no affection in his heart to bestow on her. To him she was a
+stranger--nothing more.
+
+"Let us understand each other," he said coldly. "That you are my mother
+is no doubt true, but I ask you if you have performed your maternal
+duties? You obliterated yourself from my life; you left me to be brought
+up by strangers; in all ways you only consulted your own desires. Can
+you then expect me to yield you that filial obedience which every mother
+has a right to expect from her son? If you----"
+
+"Enough, sir," said Mrs. Bezel, white with anger, "say no more. I
+understand you only too well, and now regret that I sought this
+interview, which has resulted so ill. I hoped that you would be glad to
+find your mother still alive; that you would cherish her in her
+affliction. I see I was wrong. You are as cold and bitter as was your
+father."
+
+"My father?"
+
+"Yes. Do you think that all the wrong was on my side. Had I nothing to
+forgive him? Ah! I see by your face that you know to what I allude. It
+was your father and my husband who betrayed me for Mona Bantry."
+
+"You have no proof of that," said Claude, in a low voice.
+
+"I have every proof. The girl told me with her own lips. I returned from
+that ball at three o'clock in the morning, and Mr. Jeringham left me at
+the door. I entered the house alone and proceeded to my sitting room.
+There I found Mona and--my husband."
+
+"Ah! He did return from London on that night?"
+
+"Yes. He returned, thinking I was out of the way, in order to see his
+mistress. In his presence she confessed her guilt. I looked to him for
+denial, and he hung his head. Then hardly knowing what I did, overcome
+with rage, I snatched the dagger which I wore as part of my costume,
+and----"
+
+"And killed him," shrieked Claude, springing to his feet. "For Heaven's
+sake, do not confess this to me!"
+
+"Why not? I did no wrong! I did not kill him. I fainted before I could
+cross the room to where he stood. When I recovered I was alone. My
+husband and Mona Bantry had disappeared. Then I retired to bed and was
+ill for days. I know no more of the case."
+
+"Is this true?" asked Claude anxiously.
+
+"Why should it not be true? Do you think I would invent a story like
+that to asperse the memory of your father? Vilely as he treated me, I
+loved him. I do not know who killed him. The dagger I wore disappeared
+with him. It was found in the garden; his body in the river four miles
+down. But I declare to you solemnly that I am ignorant of whose hand
+struck the blow. It might have been Mona, or Jeringham, or----"
+
+"Or Hilliston!"
+
+"You are wrong there," replied his mother coolly, "or else your judgment
+has been perverted by that book. Mr. Hilliston was still at the ball
+when the tragedy occurred. His evidence at the trial proved that. Don't
+say a word against him. He has been a good friend to you--and to me."
+
+"I do not deny that."
+
+"You cannot! When I was arrested and tried for a crime which I never
+committed, he stood by me. When I left the court alone and friendless,
+he stood by me. I decided to feign death to escape the obloquy which
+attaches to every suspected criminal. He found me this refuge and
+installed me here as Mrs. Bezel. He took charge of you and brought you
+up, and looked after your money and mine. Don't you dare to speak
+against him!"
+
+Exhausted by the fury with which she had spoken, the unfortunate woman
+leaned back in her chair. Claude, already regretting his harshness,
+brought a glass of water, which he placed to her lips. After a few
+minutes she revived, and feebly waved him away; but he was not to be so
+easily dismissed.
+
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did, mother," he said tenderly, arranging her
+pillows. "Now that I have heard your story, I see that you have suffered
+greatly. It is not my right to reproach you. No doubt you acted for the
+best; therefore, I do not say a word against you or Mr. Hilliston, but
+ask you to forgive me."
+
+The tears were rolling down Mrs. Bezel's cheeks as he spoke thus, and
+without uttering a word, she put her hand in his in token of
+forgiveness. Claude pressed his lip to her faded cheek, and thus
+reconciled--as much as was possible under the circumstances--they began
+to talk of the case.
+
+"What do you intend to do?" asked Mrs. Bezel weakly.
+
+"Find out who killed my father."
+
+"It is impossible--after five-and-twenty years. I have told you all I
+know, and you see I cannot help you. I do not know whom to suspect."
+
+"You surely have some suspicion, mother?"
+
+"No, I have no suspicions. Whomsoever killed your father took the dagger
+out of my sitting room."
+
+"Perhaps Mona----"
+
+"I think not. She had no reason to kill him."
+
+"He had wronged her."
+
+"And me!" cried Mrs. Bezel vehemently. "Do not talk any more of these
+things, Claude. I know nothing more; I can tell you nothing more."
+
+"Then I must try and find John Parver, and learn how he became
+acquainted with the story."
+
+"That is why I sent for you; why I revealed myself; why I told you all I
+have suffered. Find John Parver, and tell me who he is, what he is."
+
+This Claude promised to do, and, as his mother was worn out by the long
+conversation, he shortly afterward took his leave. As he descended
+Fitzjohn's Avenue a thought flashed into his mind as to the identity of
+John Parver.
+
+"I wonder if John Parver is Mark Jeringham?" said Claude.
+
+The question was to be answered on that very evening.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+                             ON THE TRACK.
+
+
+IT was nearly six o'clock when Claude returned to Earls Street, and
+Tait, already dressed for the evening, was waiting his arrival with
+considerable impatience. His usual imperturbability had given place to a
+self-satisfied air, as though he had succeeded in accomplishing a
+difficult undertaking. He uttered a joyful exclamation when he saw
+Claude enter, but a look of apprehension passed over his face when he
+noted the altered appearance of his friend.
+
+"What is wrong?" he asked, as Claude threw himself into a chair, with a
+sigh of fatigue. "Do you bring bad news? My dear fellow, you are
+completely worn out. Here, Dormer, a glass of sherry for Mr. Larcher."
+
+The servant, who was putting the finishing touches to the dinner-table,
+speedily obeyed this order, and Tait made his friend drink the wine
+without delay. Then he proceeded to question him regarding the reason of
+his pallor, but with his usual caution first sent Dormer out of the
+room. Only when they were alone did he venture to speak on the subject
+about which both were thinking.
+
+"Well!" he demanded anxiously, "you saw Mrs. Bezel?"
+
+"Yes; I was with her for two hours."
+
+"Ah!" said Tait, with great satisfaction; "she must have told you a good
+deal in that time."
+
+"She did. She told me more than I expected."
+
+"Did it concern your parents?"
+
+"It did."
+
+"Good! Then you no doubt heard her version of the crime."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+These unsatisfactory replies, which dropped so strangely from Larcher's
+lips, at once puzzled and irritated the questioner.
+
+"You don't seem anxious to confide in me," he said, in a piqued tone.
+
+"I will tell you all. I am anxious to tell you all," replied Larcher,
+finding his tongue, "but I do not know how to begin."
+
+"Oh, I shall save you that trouble by asking you questions. In the first
+place, who is Mrs. Bezel?"
+
+"My mother!"
+
+Tait bounded from his chair with an expression of incredulity. This
+unexpected information, so abruptly conveyed, was too much for his
+self-control.
+
+"Your mother!" he stammered, hardly thinking he had heard aright. "Are
+you in earnest? I cannot believe it. According to the notice in the
+newspapers, according to Hilliston, your mother died in London in 1867."
+
+"She did not die. Her death was a feigned one, to escape the notoriety
+gained by her trial at Canterbury."
+
+"Did Mr. Hilliston know she was alive?"
+
+"Yes. It was by his advice that she changed her name."
+
+"Oh! Oh!" said Tait, with marked significance; "Hilliston knew,
+Hilliston advised. Humph! John Parver may be right, after all."
+
+"Tait, be silent! You are speaking of my mother."
+
+"I beg your pardon, my dear fellow, but I really do not understand."
+
+"You will shortly. I will tell you the story of my mother's troubles,
+and Hilliston's kindness."
+
+"Hilliston's kindness," repeated Tait, in a skeptical tone. Nevertheless
+he resumed his seat, and signified his willingness to hear the
+narrative.
+
+The wine had done Claude good, and restored his self-possession; so, now
+master of himself, he related all that had passed between himself and
+Mrs. Bezel. Gifted with a retentive memory, and no mean powers as a
+narrator, he succeeded in giving Tait a vivid impression of the
+conversation. The little man, with his head slightly on one side, like a
+bright-eyed sparrow, listened attentively, and not till the story was
+finished did he make an observation thereon. To this capability of
+listening without interruption Tait owed a great deal of his popularity.
+
+"Truth is stranger than fiction, after all," said he, when Claude ended;
+"and the novel is less dramatic than the episode of real life. John
+Parver did not dare to insinuate that the supposed dead widow of the
+murdered man was alive. Humph! this complicates matters more than ever."
+
+"At least it clears the character of Hilliston."
+
+"Yes," assented Tait doubtfully; "I suppose it does."
+
+"Can you doubt it?" said Larcher, dissatisfied with this grudging
+consent. "You can now see why Hilliston was agitated at our interview;
+why he asked me not to see Mrs. Bezel, so-called; why he called here the
+same evening to find out if I had gone; and finally why he wished to
+prepare me before seeing her, by telling of the tragedy."
+
+"Oh, I see all that," said Tait quietly. "Nine men out of ten would
+consider Hilliston a most disinterested person. But I am the tenth man,
+and am therefore skeptical of his motive."
+
+"But what motive can he have for----"
+
+"That is just it," interrupted Tait vivaciously. "I can't see his
+motive, but I will find it out some day."
+
+"Well, you can speak for yourself," said Claude, frowning. "After what
+my mother has told me, I believe Hilliston to be an upright and
+honorable man."
+
+"You are quite right to do so on the evidence. Still, if I were you I
+would not keep him informed of all our movements, unless----Do you
+intend to go on with the matter?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"Assuredly! I am determined to find out who killed my father."
+
+Tait walked to the fireplace and took up his position on the hearth-rug.
+An idea had entered his mind, which he did not intend to put into words.
+Nevertheless it was indirectly the reason for his next speech.
+
+"I think, after all, it would be best to take Hilliston's advice, and
+let sleeping dogs lie."
+
+He had not calculated the effect of these words on his hearer, for
+Claude also arose from his chair, and looked at him with angry surprise.
+
+"I don't understand you," he said coldly. "Some hours back, and you were
+more eager than I to pursue this unknown criminal. Now you wish to
+withdraw. May I ask the reason of this sudden change."
+
+"It seems to be useless to hope to find the assassin," replied Tait,
+shrugging his shoulders. "One cannot discover a needle in a haystack."
+
+"Oh, yes you can--by patient research."
+
+"Well, even that would be easier than to hope to solve a mystery which
+has been impenetrable for five-and-twenty years."
+
+"It has been impenetrable for that time because no one has tried to
+solve it. This is not your real reason for wishing to end the case. What
+is your reason? Speak! I insist upon knowing the truth."
+
+The other did not reply, but thrust his hands deeper into his pockets,
+and maintained a masterly silence. Irritated by this negative attitude,
+Claude placed his hands on the little man's shoulders and looked at him
+indignantly.
+
+"I know what your reason is, Tait," he said rapidly; "it is not that you
+fear we may learn too little, but that you expect we will learn too
+much."
+
+"Yes," replied Tait simply, "that is the reason. Is it not an
+all-sufficient one for you to pause?"
+
+"No!" shouted Claude savagely; "it is all-sufficient for me to go on.
+You think that I may discover that Hilliston is the criminal, or learn
+that my mother is accountable for the crime. I tell you no such thing
+will happen. Hilliston was not near The Laurels on the fatal morning. My
+mother--I have told you how she exonerated herself, and the exoneration
+was substantiated by Denis Bantry. Both are innocent."
+
+"It may be so. But who is guilty?"
+
+"Jeringham. I believe that he discovered that my father had returned,
+and perhaps knowing of this intrigue between him and Mona Bantry,
+remained at The Laurels, unknown to my mother, in order to assist her as
+a friend."
+
+"How did Jeringham obtain possession of the dagger?"
+
+"I cannot say. We must find out. But he did obtain possession of the
+dagger, and during a quarrel with my father killed him with it. He fled
+to avoid the consequences. Oh, yes! I swear that Jeringham is guilty.
+But I will hunt him down, if I have to do it alone."
+
+"You will not do it alone," said Tait quietly. "I am with you still."
+
+"But you said----"
+
+"I know what I said! I think it is best to leave well alone. But since
+you are set on learning the truth, I will help you to the best of my
+ability. Only," added Tait explicitly, "should you discover the truth to
+be unpalatable, do not blame me."
+
+"I won't blame you. I am certain that you will find that I am right, and
+that Hilliston and my mother had nothing to do with the affair. Help me,
+that is all I ask. I will bear the consequences."
+
+"Very good! Then we had better get to work," said Tait dryly. "Just go
+and dress, my dear fellow, or you'll keep dinner waiting."
+
+"Why should I dress? I am not going out to-night."
+
+"Indeed you are! We are due at Mrs. Durham's 'At Home' at ten o'clock."
+
+"I shan't go. I am in no mood for frivolity. I would rather stay at home
+and think over the case. It is only by hard work that we can hope to
+learn the truth."
+
+"Very true. At the same time it is necessary for you to go out to-night,
+if only to meet with John Parver."
+
+"The author of 'A Whim of Fate,'" asked Claude eagerly, "is he in town?"
+
+"Yes. And he will be at Mrs. Durham's to-night. We must see him, and
+find out where he obtained the materials for his novel."
+
+"Do you think such information will lead to any result?" asked Claude
+dubiously.
+
+"I don't think. I am sure of it," retorted Tait impatiently. "Now go and
+dress."
+
+Larcher departed without a word.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+                           THE UPPER BOHEMIA.
+
+
+THE name Bohemia is suggestive of unknown talent starving in garrets, of
+obdurate landladies, of bacchanalian nights, and shabby dress. Murger
+first invested the name with this flavor, and since his time the word
+has become polarized, and indicates nothing but struggling humanity and
+unappreciated genius. Yet your true Bohemian does not leave his country
+when he becomes rich and famous. It is true that he descends from the
+garret to the first floor; that he fares well and dresses decently; but
+he still dwells in Bohemia. The reckless air of the hovels permeates the
+palaces of this elastic kingdom of fancy.
+
+Mrs. Durham was a Bohemian, and every Thursday received her _confrères_
+in the drawing room of a very elegant mansion in Chelsea. She had
+written a novel, "I Cling to Thee with Might and Main," and this having
+met with a moderate success, she posed as a celebrity, and set up her
+_salon_ on the lines of Lady Blessington. Everyone who was anyone was
+received at her "At Homes," and by this process she gathered together a
+queer set of people. Some were clever, others were not; some were
+respectable, others decidedly disreputable; but one and all--to use an
+expression usually connected with crime--had done something. Novelists,
+essayists, painters, poets, and musicians were all to be found in her
+rooms, and a more motley collection could be seen nowhere else in
+London. Someone dubbed the Chelsea Mansions "The Zoo," and certainly
+animals of all kinds were to be found there, from monkeys to peacocks.
+
+It was considered rather the thing to be invited to "The Zoo," so when
+brothers and sisters of the pen met one another there they usually said:
+"What! are you here?" as though the place were heaven, and the speaker
+justifiably surprised that anyone should be saved except himself or
+herself. Literary people love one another a degree less than Christians.
+
+Hither came Tait and Claude in search of John Parver. That young man had
+made a great success with his novel, and was consequently much sought
+after by lion hunters. However, Tait had learned that he was to be
+present at Mrs. Durham's on this special evening, and hoped to engage
+him in conversation, so as to learn where he had obtained the materials
+for his story.
+
+When they arrived the rooms were quite full, and Mrs. Durham received
+them very graciously. It was true that they were not famous, still as
+Tait was a society man, and Claude very handsome, the lady of the house
+good-humoredly pardoned all mental deficiencies. Tait knew her very
+well, having met her at several houses, but she addressed herself rather
+to Claude than to his friend, having a feminine appreciation of good
+looks.
+
+"My rooms are always crowded," said she, with that colossal egotism
+which distinguished her utterances. "You know they call me the new
+George Eliot."
+
+"No doubt you deserve the name," replied Claude, with mimic gravity.
+
+"Oh, I suppose so," smirked the lady amiably. "You have read my novel,
+of course. It is now in its fourth edition, and has been refused by
+Smith and Mudie. I follow the French school of speaking my mind."
+
+"And a very nasty mind it must be," thought Larcher, who had been
+informed about the book by Tait. He did not, however, give this thought
+utterance, but endeavored to generalize the conversation. "You have many
+celebrities here to-night, I presume?"
+
+"My Dear Sir!" exclaimed Mrs. Durham, in capitals, "every individual in
+this company is famous! Yonder is Mr. Padsop, the great traveler, who
+wrote 'Mosques and Mosquitoes.' He is talking to Miss Pexworth, the
+writer of those scathing articles in _The Penny Trumpet_, entitled 'Man,
+the Brute.' She is a modern woman."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Claude equably, and looked at this latest production
+of the nineteenth century, "she is rather masculine in appearance."
+
+"It is her pride to be so, Mr. Larcher. She is more masculine than man.
+That is her brother, who designs ladies' dresses and decorates dinner
+tables."
+
+"Ah! He isn't masculine. I suppose nature wanted to preserve the balance
+in the family. The law of compensation, eh?"
+
+"Oh, you are severe. Tommy Pexworth is a dear little creature, and so
+fond of chiffons. He knows more about women's dress than his sister."
+
+"So I should think," replied Claude dryly. He took an instant and
+violent dislike to Mr. Pexworth, who was one of those feminine little
+creatures, only distinguished from the other sex by wearing trousers. "A
+charming pair," he added, smiling. "I don't know which I admire the
+most. The sister who is such a thorough gentlemen, or the brother who is
+a perfect lady."
+
+"You are satirical," smiled Mrs. Durham, enjoying this hit at her
+friends. "Now you must take me down to have some refreshment. Really,
+you must."
+
+Thus inspired, Claude elbowed the hostess through the crush, and
+escorted her to a bare counter in the dining room, whereon were
+displayed thin bread and butter, very weak tea, and fossil buns. Mrs.
+Durham evidently knew her own refreshments too well to partake of them,
+for she had a mild brandy and soda, produced from its hiding place by a
+confidential waiter. She asked Claude to join her, but he refused on the
+plea that he never drank between meals.
+
+"But you are not a brain-worker," said Mrs. Durham, hurriedly finishing
+her brandy and soda, lest her guests should see it and become
+discontented with the weak tea; "if I did not keep myself up I should
+die. Ah! Why, here is Mr. Hilliston."
+
+"Hilliston!" said Claude, astonished at seeing his guardian in this
+house.
+
+"Yes. Do you know him? A dear creature--so clever. He was my solicitor
+in a libel action against _The Penny Trumpet_, for saying that I was an
+ungrammatical scribbler. Just fancy! And they call me the new George
+Eliot. We lost our case, I'm sorry to say. Judges are such brutes! Miss
+Pexworth says they are, ever since she failed to get damages for her
+breach of promise case."
+
+"Here comes Mr. Hilliston," said Larcher, rather tired of this
+long-tongued lady. "I know him very well, he is my guardian."
+
+"How very delightful!" said Mrs. Durham, with the accent on the "very."
+"Oh, Mr. Hilliston," she continued, as the lawyer approached, "we were
+just talking about you!"
+
+"I trust the absent were right for once," replied Hilliston, with an
+artificial smile and a swift glance at Claude. "I have just come to say
+good-by."
+
+"Oh, not yet, surely not yet! Really!" babbled Mrs. Durham with shallow
+enthusiasm. Then finding Hilliston was resolved to go, and catching
+sight of a newly arrived celebrity, she hastened, after the amiable
+fashion of her kind, to speed the parting guest. "Well, if you must, you
+must. Good-by, good-by! Excuse me, I see Mr. Rawler, a delightful
+man--writes plays, you know. The new Shakspere; yes!" and thus talking
+she melted away with a babble of words, leaving Hilliston and his ward
+alone.
+
+They were mutually surprised to see one another, Claude because he knew
+his guardian did not affect Bohemianism, and Hilliston because he
+thought that the young man had left town. The meeting was hardly a
+pleasant one, as Hilliston dreaded lest Mrs. Bezel should have said too
+much, and so prejudiced Claude against him.
+
+"I understood from your refusal of my invitation that you had gone to
+Thorston with Tait," said he, after a pause.
+
+"I am going to-morrow or the next day," replied Claude quickly, "but in
+any event I intended to call on you before I left town."
+
+"Indeed!" said Hilliston nervously; "you have something to tell me?"
+
+"Yes. I have seen Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"Good. You have seen Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"And I have made a discovery."
+
+"Oh! Has the lady informed you who committed the crime?"
+
+"No. But she told me her name."
+
+"Margaret Bezel!" murmured Hilliston, wondering what was coming.
+
+"Not Margaret Bezel, but Julia Larcher, my mother."
+
+"She--she told you that?" gasped Hilliston, his self-control deserting
+him for the moment.
+
+"Yes. I know why she feigned death; I know how you have protected her.
+You have been a kind friend to me, Mr. Hilliston, and to my mother. I am
+doubly in your debt."
+
+Hilliston took the hand held out to him by Claude, and pressed it
+cordially. The speech relieved him from all apprehension. He now knew
+that Mrs. Bezel had kept their secret, and immediately took advantage of
+the restored confidence of Claude. His quick wit grasped the situation
+at once.
+
+"My dear fellow," he said with much emotion, "I loved your poor father
+too much not to do what I could for his widow and son. I hope you do not
+blame me for suppressing the truth."
+
+"No. I suppose you acted for the best. Still, I would rather you had
+informed me that my mother was still alive."
+
+"To what end? It would only have made you miserable. I did not want to
+reveal anything; but your mother insisted that you should be made
+acquainted with the past, and so--I gave you the papers."
+
+"I am glad you did so."
+
+"And now, what do you intend to do?" asked Hilliston slowly. "You know
+as much as I do. Is there any clew to guide you in the discovery that
+your mother still lives?"
+
+"No. She can tell me nothing. But I hope to find the clew here."
+
+"Ah! You intend to speak with John Parver?"
+
+"I do," said Claude, rather surprised at this penetration; "do you know
+him?"
+
+"I exchanged a few words with him," replied Hilliston carelessly. "I
+only came here to-night at the request of Mrs. Durham, who is a client
+of mine. As I paid my respects to her, she was talking to John Parver,
+and he was introduced to me as the latest lion. So you still intend to
+pursue the matter?" added Hilliston, after a pause.
+
+"Assuredly! If only to clear my mother, and restore her to the world."
+
+"I am afraid it is too late, Claude. You know she is ill and cannot live
+long."
+
+"Nevertheless, I wish her to take her own name again. She will not do so
+until the assassin of her husband--of my father--is discovered, so you
+see it is obligatory on me to find out the truth."
+
+"I trust you may be successful," said Hilliston, sighing; "but my advice
+is still the same, and it would be best for you to let the matter rest.
+After five-and-twenty years you can discover nothing. I cannot help you;
+your mother cannot help you, so----"
+
+"But John Parver may," interrupted Larcher sharply. "I will see how he
+learned the details of the case."
+
+Before Hilliston could make further objection, Tait joined them, and not
+noticing the lawyer, hastily took Claude by the arm.
+
+"I have been looking for you everywhere," said he. "Come and be
+introduced to Mr. Linton."
+
+"Who is Mr. Linton?"
+
+"John Parver. He writes under that name. Ah, Mr. Hilliston, I did not
+see you. How do you do, sir?"
+
+"I am quite well, Mr. Tait, and am just taking my departure," replied
+Hilliston easily. "I see you are both set on finding out the truth. But
+you will learn nothing from John Parver."
+
+"Why not, Mr. Hilliston?"
+
+"Because he knows nothing. Good-night, Claude--good-night, Mr. Tait!"
+
+When Hilliston disappeared Tait looked at Claude with a singular
+expression, and scratched his chin.
+
+"You see," said he quietly, "Mr. Hilliston has been making inquiries on
+his own account."
+
+"You are incurably suspicious," said Claude impatiently. "Hilliston is
+my friend."
+
+"Yes. He was your father's friend also, I believe."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Nothing! Nothing! Come and cross-examine Frank Linton, alias John
+Parver."
+
+Clearly Tait was by no means so satisfied with Hilliston as Claude.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+                           A POPULAR AUTHOR.
+
+
+BEARING in mind that the character of Hilliston had been rehabilitated
+by Mrs. Bezel, it was natural that Claude should feel somewhat annoyed
+at the persistent mistrust manifested toward that gentleman by Tait.
+However, he had no time to explain or expostulate at the present moment;
+and moreover, as he knew that the little man was assisting him in this
+difficult case out of pure friendship, he did not deem it politic to
+comment on what was assuredly an unfounded prejudice. Tait was singular
+in his judgments, stubborn in his opinions; so Claude, unwilling to risk
+the loss of his coadjutor, wisely held his peace. His astute companion
+guessed these thoughts, for in place of further remarking on the
+inexplicable presence of Hilliston, he turned the conversation toward
+the man they were about to see.
+
+"Queer thing, isn't it?" he said, as they ascended the stairs. "Linton
+is the son of the vicar of Thorston."
+
+"Ah! That no doubt accounts for his intimate knowledge of the locality.
+Do you know him?"
+
+"Of course I do--as Frank Linton; but I had no idea that he was John
+Parver."
+
+"Why did he assume a _nom de plume_?"
+
+Tait shrugged his shoulders. "Paternal prejudice, I believe," he said
+carelessly. "Mr. Linton does not approve of sensational novels, and,
+moreover, wishes his son to be a lawyer, not a literary man. Young Frank
+is in a solicitor's office in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and he employed his
+evenings in writing 'A Whim of Fate.' He published it under the name of
+'John Parver,' so as to hoodwink his father, but now that he has scored
+a success I have no doubt he will confess."
+
+"Do you think we will learn anything from him?"
+
+"We will learn all we wish to know as to where he obtained his material.
+The young man's head is turned, and by playing on his vanity we may find
+out the truth."
+
+"His vanity may lead him to conceal the fact that he took the plot from
+real life."
+
+"I don't think so. I know the boy well, and he is a great babbler. No
+one is more astonished than I at learning that he is the celebrated John
+Parver. I didn't think he had the brains to produce so clever a book."
+
+"It is clever!" assented Claude absently.
+
+"Of course it is; much cleverer than its author," retorted Tait dryly;
+"or rather, I should say, its supposed author, for I verily believed
+Jenny Paynton helped him to write the book."
+
+"Who is Jenny Paynton?"
+
+"A very nice girl who lives at Thorston. She is twice as clever as this
+lad, and they are both great on literary matters. But I'll tell you all
+about this later on, for here is Linton."
+
+The celebrated author was a light-haired, light-complexioned young man
+of six-and-twenty, with bowed shoulders, a self-satisfied smile, and a
+pince nez, which he used at times to emphasize his remarks. He evidently
+possessed conceit sufficient to stock a dozen ordinary men, and lisped
+out the newest ideas of the day, as promulgated by his college, for he
+was an Oxford man. Although he was still in his salad days, he had
+settled, to his own satisfaction, all the questions of life, and
+therefore adopted a calm superiority which was peculiarly exasperating.
+Claude, liberal-minded but hot-blooded, had not been five minutes in his
+company before he was seized with a wild desire to throw him out of the
+window. Frank Linton inspired that uncharitable feeling in many people.
+
+For the moment, Mr. Linton was alone, as his latest worshiper, a
+raw-boned female of the cab-horse species, had just departed with a fat
+little painter in quest of refreshment. Therefore, when he turned to
+greet Claude, he was quite prepared to assume that fatigued
+self-conscious air, with which he thought fit to welcome new votaries.
+
+"Linton, this is Mr. Larcher," said Tait abruptly. "Claude, you see
+before you the lion of the season."
+
+"It is very good of you to say so, Mr. Tait," simpered the lion, in no
+wise disclaiming the compliment. "I am pleased to make your
+acquaintance, Mr. Larcher."
+
+"And I yours, Mr. Linton, or shall I say Mr. Parver?"
+
+"Oh, either name will answer," said the author loftily, "though in town
+I am known as Parver only."
+
+"And in Thorston as Linton," interpolated Tait smartly. "Then your
+father does not yet know what a celebrated son he has?"
+
+"Not yet, Mr. Tait. I intend to tell him next week. I go down to
+Thorston for that purpose."
+
+"Ah! My friend and I will no doubt meet you there. We also seek rural
+felicity for a month. But now that you have taken London by storm, I
+suppose you intend to forsake the law for the profits."
+
+"Of course I do," replied Linton quickly. "I never cared for the law,
+and only went into it to please my father."
+
+"And now you go into literature to please Miss Paynton."
+
+Linton blushed at this home thrust, and being readier with the pen than
+the tongue, did not know what answer to make. Pitying his confusion, and
+anxious to arrive at the main object of the interview, Claude
+interpolated a remark bearing thereon.
+
+"Did you find it difficult to work out the plot of your novel, Mr.
+Linton?" he said, with assumed carelessness.
+
+"Oh, not at all! The construction of a plot is second nature with me."
+
+"I suppose you and Miss Paynton talked it over together," said Tait
+artfully.
+
+"Well, yes," answered Linton, again falling into confusion; "I found her
+a good listener."
+
+"I presume it was all new to her?"
+
+"I think so. Of course she gave me some hints."
+
+Evidently Linton was determined to admit nothing, so seeing that Tait's
+attack was thus repulsed, Claude brought up his reserve forces.
+
+"I saw in a paper the other day that your book was an impossible
+one--that nothing analogous to its story ever happened in real life."
+
+"Several critics have said that," replied Linton, growing angry, and
+thereby losing his caution, "but they are wrong, as I could prove did I
+choose to do so."
+
+"What!" said Claude, in feigned astonishment. "Did you take the incident
+from real life?"
+
+"The tale is founded on an incident from real life," answered Linton,
+flushing. "That is, Miss Paynton told me of a certain crime which was
+actually committed, and on her hint I worked out the story."
+
+"Oh, Miss Paynton told you," said Tait smoothly; "and where did she see
+the account of this crime?"
+
+"Ah, that I cannot tell you," replied Linton frankly. "She related the
+history of this crime, and refused to let me know whence she obtained
+it. I thought the idea a good one, and so wrote the novel."
+
+"Why don't you tell this to the world, and so confound the critics?"
+
+"I do! I have told several people. For instance, I told a gentleman
+about it this very evening, just because he made the same remark as Mr.
+Larcher did."
+
+Tait drew a long breath, and stole a look at Claude. That young man had
+changed color and gave utterance to the first idea that entered his
+mind.
+
+"Was it Mr. Hilliston who made the remark?"
+
+"Hilliston! Hilliston!" said Linton thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe that
+was the man. A tall old gentleman, very fresh-colored. He was greatly
+interested in my literary work."
+
+"Who could help being interested in so clever a book?" said Claude, in a
+meaning tone. "But Mr. Hilliston is a lawyer, and I suppose you do not
+like members of that profession."
+
+"Now, why should you say that?" demanded Linton, rather taken aback by
+this perspicacity.
+
+"Well, for one thing you admit a dislike for the law, and for another
+you make Michael Dene, the solicitor, commit the crime in 'A Whim of
+Fate.'"
+
+"Oh, I only did that as he was the least likely person to be suspected,"
+said the author easily. "Jenny--that is, Miss Paynton--wanted me to make
+Markham commit the crime."
+
+"Markham is Jeringham," murmured Tait, under his breath. "Who committed
+the crime in the actual case?" he added aloud.
+
+"No one knows," answered Linton, shrugging his shoulders. "The case as
+related to me was a mystery. I solved it after my own fashion."
+
+"In the third volume you trace the assassin by means of a breastpin
+belonging to Michael Dene," said Claude, again in favor. "Is that fact
+or fiction?"
+
+"Fiction! Miss Paynton invented the idea. She said that as the dagger
+inculpated the woman the breastpin found on the banks of the river would
+lead to the detection of the man. And, as I worked it out, the idea was
+a good one."
+
+"Ah!" murmured Tait to himself, "I wonder if Mr. Hilliston had anything
+to do with a breastpin."
+
+By this time Linton was growing rather restive under examination, as he
+was by no means pleased at having to acknowledge his indebtedness to a
+woman's wit. Seeing this Tait abruptly closed the conversation, so as to
+avoid waking the suspicions of Linton.
+
+"A very interesting conversation," he said heartily. "I like to get
+behind the scenes and see the working of a novelist's brain. We will say
+good-by now. Linton, and I hope you will call at the Manor House next
+week, when we will all three be at Thorston."
+
+"Delighted, I'm sure," replied the author, and thereupon melted into the
+crowd, leaving Claude and Tait looking at one another.
+
+"Well," said the former, after a pause, "we have not learned much."
+
+"On the contrary, I think we have learned a great deal," said Tait,
+raising his eyebrows. "We know that Linton got the whole story from
+Jenny Paynton, and that Mr. Hilliston is in possession of the
+knowledge."
+
+"What use can it be to him?"
+
+"He will try and frustrate us with Miss Paynton, as he did Mrs. Bezel
+with you."
+
+"Do you still doubt him?" asked Claude angrily.
+
+"Yes," replied Tait coolly, "I still doubt him."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+                             A FALSE MOVE.
+
+
+THE next day the two young men repaired to the club for the purpose of
+having luncheon and discussing their plans. Contrary to the wish of
+Claude, his friend did not deem it advisable to at once depart for
+Thorston, as he wished to remain in town for a few days on business
+connected with Hilliston.
+
+"You see, you are quite in the dark regarding that gentleman," said
+Tait, as they lighted their cigarettes after dinner, "and before we
+commence operations at Thorston it will be advisable to know that he is
+not counteracting our efforts."
+
+"In that case you had better go down to Thorston and I will remain in
+town so as to keep an eye on Hilliston."
+
+"I don't think that will be necessary," replied Tait reflectively, "it
+is more than probable that Hilliston will visit Thorston."
+
+"For what purpose?"
+
+"Can't you guess? Last night he learned from Linton that Jenny Paynton
+supplied the material for that novel. Consequently he will see her, and,
+if possible, find out where she heard the story."
+
+"Yes; I suppose he will," said Claude thoughtfully. "By the way, who is
+Miss Paynton, who now seems to be mixed up in the matter?"
+
+"She is the daughter of an old recluse called Ferdinand Paynton."
+
+"A recluse! Humph! That's strange."
+
+"Why so? You would not say so if you saw the old man. He is an invalid
+and lives in his library. A charming companion, though I must say he is
+rather sad."
+
+"Where does he live?"
+
+"At Thorston, half a mile from the Manor House. Not very rich, I should
+think. His cottage is small, like his income."
+
+"And his daughter lives with him?"
+
+"Yes. A pretty girl she is, who inherits his literary tastes. It is my
+impression that she wrote the most part of that novel. From all I know
+of Frank Linton he is given more to poetry than to prose. Jenny has the
+brain, not Frank."
+
+"Ho, ho!" said Claude, smiling. "Is it the skeptical misogynistic Tait I
+hear speaking?"
+
+"Himself. I admit that I do not care for women, as a rule, but there are
+exceptions to every rule, and in this case Jenny Paynton is the
+exception."
+
+"Is she in love with our author?"
+
+"No. But I rather think he is in love with her, as you will be when you
+see her."
+
+"I! What are you talking about, Tait? I have more to do than to fall in
+love with country wenches, however pretty."
+
+"Jenny is not a country wench," said Tait, with some displeasure; "she
+is a highly educated young woman."
+
+"Worse and worse! I hate highly educated bluestockings."
+
+"You won't hate Jenny, at all events. Especially as it is probable you
+will see a great deal of her."
+
+"No; I shall keep away from her," said Claude doggedly.
+
+"That's impossible. We must maneuver to get at the truth. By asking her
+straight out she certainly will not gratify our curiosity. We must plot
+and plan, and take her unawares. She is not a fool, like Linton,
+remember."
+
+"What! Do you call a lion of the season by so opprobrious a name?"
+
+"I do," replied Tait serenely; "because I don't believe he wrote the
+book."
+
+"Well! well! Never mind Linton. We have pumped him dry. The next thing
+is to tackle the fair Jenny. How do you intend to set about it?"
+
+"I can't say, at present. We must be guided by circumstances. I will
+introduce you to the rector and to Mr. Paynton. There will be musical
+parties and lawn tennis _fêtes_, so in some way or another we may find
+out the truth?"
+
+"Does anyone else live with Paynton; his wife, for instance."
+
+"No. His wife died before he came to Thorston, where he has been for a
+long time. An old servant called Kerry lives with him."
+
+"Man or woman?"
+
+"Man. A queer old fellow, rather morose."
+
+"H'm! A flattering description. By the way, he bears the same name as
+the ancient retainer in Boucicault's play."
+
+"Why shouldn't he?"
+
+"It may be an assumed name."
+
+Tait threw a surprised glance at his friend, and laughed quickly.
+
+"Who is suspicious now?" said he, smiling. "You blame me for suspecting
+Hilliston, yet here you are doubtful of people whom you have never
+seen."
+
+Before Larcher could answer this home thrust, a waiter entered with a
+letter for him which had just arrived.
+
+"From Hilliston," said Claude, recognizing the writing. "I wonder what
+he has to say?"
+
+"It's only another move in the game," murmured Tait; then as Claude,
+after glancing at the letter, uttered an ejaculation of surprise, he
+added: "What is the matter?"
+
+"Hilliston is going down to Eastbourne."
+
+"Impossible!" cried Tait, holding out his hand for the letter. "He is
+surely not so clumsy as to show his hand so plainly."
+
+"He does, though. Read the letter yourself."
+
+    "MY DEAR CLAUDE [wrote Hilliston]: Mrs. Hilliston has decided to
+    leave town for Eastbourne this week, so it is probable we will
+    see you and Mr. Tait down there. If you can spare the time come
+    to dinner at half-past seven to-night, and tell me how you are
+    getting on with your case.
+                                    "Yours very sincerely,
+                                            "FRANCIS HILLISTON."
+
+"Well," said Claude, as Tait silently returned the letter, "what do you
+think?"
+
+"I think that Hilliston intends to look up Jenny Paynton."
+
+"I can see that," replied Claude impatiently, "but touching this
+invitation to dinner."
+
+"Accept."
+
+"But I promised to see my mother to-night, and tell her about John
+Parver. She will expect me, as I have written."
+
+"I will take your apologies to her," said Tait quietly.
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes. Listen to me, Claude," continued the little man in a tone of
+suppressed excitement. "You will keep your belief in Hilliston. I tell
+you he is your enemy and wishes you to leave this case alone. To-night
+he will make one last attempt to dissuade you. If he succeeds he will
+not go to Eastbourne. If he fails you can depend on it he will try and
+see Jenny before we do. Now, to thwart his aims we will go down to
+Thorston by an early train to-morrow morning."
+
+"But I must see my mother before I leave town."
+
+"No! I will tell her all she wishes to know."
+
+"She might not like it."
+
+"This is not a case for likes or dislikes," said Tait grimly; "but a
+question of getting the better of Hilliston. You must dine with him
+to-night, and find out, if possible, if it was his wife or himself who
+suggested this visit to Eastbourne. You need not tell him we go down
+to-morrow. Say you don't know--that you await my decision. Try and learn
+all you can of his attitude and plans. Then we will discuss the matter
+when you return. On my part," continued Tait significantly, "I may have
+some something to say about your mother."
+
+"You want to see her?"
+
+"Yes. I am extremely anxious to see her."
+
+"Perhaps you suspect her!" cried Claude, in a fiery tone.
+
+"Bless the man, what a temper he has!" said Tait jocosely. "I don't
+suspect anyone except Hilliston. But I am quicker than you, and I wish
+to learn precisely what your mother has to say. A chance remark on her
+part may set us on the right path."
+
+"Well, I will be guided by you," said Claude, in a few minutes. "You can
+go to Hampstead, and I will dine with Hilliston. But I don't like the
+task. To sit at a man's table and scheme against him is not my idea of
+honor."
+
+"Nor is it mine. You are doing no such thing. All I wish you to do is to
+observe Hilliston's attitude and hold your tongue. There is nothing
+wrong in that. I want to find out his motive for this behavior."
+
+"Then why not see him yourself!"
+
+"I will see him at Thorston. Meantime it is necessary that I become
+acquainted with your mother. Now come and wire an acceptance to
+Hilliston, and write a letter to your mother for me to deliver."
+
+Claude obeyed. He was quite content to accept the guidance of Tait in
+this matter, and began to think that his friend was right in suspecting
+Hilliston. Else why did the lawyer's plans so coincide with their own.
+
+"Mind you don't tell Hilliston too much," said Tait, when the wire was
+despatched.
+
+"I shall tell him that we go to Thorston shortly, and that we saw John
+Parver."
+
+"No; don't tell him about John Parver. He will be certain to mention the
+subject first."
+
+"Well, and if he does----"
+
+"Oh, you must use your brains," replied Tait ironically. "Baffle his
+curiosity, and above all, make no mention of the breastpin episode
+related in the third volume."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because Jenny Paynton told Linton of that. She could not have obtained
+it from the newspapers, as it is not related therein."
+
+"It is pure invention."
+
+"No! I believe it to be a fact."
+
+"But who could have told it to Miss Paynton?"
+
+"Ah!" said Tait, in a low tone. "Find me the person who told her that
+and I'll find the man who murdered your father."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+
+                    THE HUSBAND AT KENSINGTON GORE.
+
+
+TO a woman who rules by right of beauty it is a terrible thing to see
+her empire slipping from her grasp by reason of gray hairs and wrinkles.
+What desperate efforts does she make to protract her sway, how she dyes
+and paints and powders and tight laces--all to no end, for Time is
+stronger than Art, and finally he writes his sign-manual too deep to be
+effaced by cosmetics. Mrs. Hilliston was not yet beaten in the fight
+with the old enemy, but she foresaw the future when she would be shamed
+and neglected close at hand.
+
+Perhaps it was this premonition of defeat that made her so unamiable,
+sharp, and bitter on the night when Claude came to dine. She liked
+Claude and had stood in the place of a mother to him; but he was a man,
+and handsome, so when she saw his surprised look at her changed
+appearance all the evil that was in her came to the surface.
+
+Yet she need not have felt so bitter a pang, had she taken the trouble
+to glance at her image in the near mirror. It reflected a tall, stylish
+figure, which, in the dim light of the drawing room, looked majestic and
+beautiful. It was all very well to think that she appeared barely thirty
+in the twilight, but she knew well that the daylight showed up her
+forty-seven years in the most merciless manner. Velvet robes, diamond
+necklaces, and such like aids to beauty would not make up for lack of
+youth, and Claude's ill-advised start brought this home to her.
+
+Ten years before she had married Hilliston in utter ignorance of the
+house at Hampstead. Though she did not know it she was not unlike her
+rival. There was the same majesty, the same imperious beauty, the same
+passionate nature, but Mrs. Bezel was worn and wasted by illness,
+whereas Mrs. Hilliston, aided by art, looked a rarely beautiful woman.
+
+People said she had not done well to marry Hilliston. She was then a
+rich widow from America, and wanted to take a position in society. With
+her looks and her money, she might have married a title, but handsome
+Hilliston crossed her path, and, though he was then fifty years of age,
+she fell in love with him on the spot. Wearied of Mrs. Bezel, anxious to
+mend his failing fortunes, Hilliston accepted the homage thus offered.
+He did not love her, but kept that knowledge to himself, so Mrs.
+Derrick, the wealthy widow, secured the man she idolized. She gave all,
+wealth, beauty, love, and received nothing in return.
+
+During all their married life her love had undergone no abatement. She
+loved her husband passionately, and her one object in life was to please
+him. At the time of the marriage she had rather resented the presence of
+Claude in Hilliston's house, but soon accepted him as an established
+fact, the more so as he took up his profession shortly afterward, and
+left her to reign alone over the heart of her husband. When the young
+man called she was always kind to him, she constantly looked after his
+welfare, and playfully styled herself his mother. Claude was greatly
+attached to her, and spoke of her in the highest terms, but for the life
+of him he could not suppress that start, though he knew it wounded her
+to the heart. During his five years of absence she had aged greatly, and
+art seemed rather to accentuate than conceal the truth.
+
+"You find me altered, I am afraid," said she bitterly; "age is robbing
+me of my looks."
+
+"By no means," answered Claude, with a desire to please her; "at the
+worst, you are only growing old gracefully."
+
+"Small comfort in that," sighed Mrs. Hilliston. "I do not want to grow
+old at all. However, it is no use fighting the inevitable, but I hope
+I'll die before I become a hag."
+
+"You will never become one."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that. I'm one of those large women who turn to bones
+and wrinkles in old age."
+
+"In my eyes you will always be beautiful, Louise," said Hilliston, who
+entered at this moment. "You are an angel ever bright and fair."
+
+"You have not lost the art of saying pretty things, Francis," replied
+his wife, greatly gratified; "but there is the gong. Claude, take your
+mother in to dinner."
+
+The young man winced as she said this, thinking of his real mother who
+lay sick and feeble at Hampstead. Hilliston saw his change of
+countenance, and bit his lip to prevent himself remarking thereon. He
+guessed what Claude was thinking about, and thus his thoughts were
+turned in the same direction. At the present moment the memories thus
+evoked were most unpleasant.
+
+During dinner Mrs. Hilliston recovered her spirits and talked freely
+enough. No one was present save Claude and her husband, so they were a
+very pleasant party of three. While in the full flow of conversation,
+Claude could not help thinking that Tait was unjust to suspect the
+master of the house of underhand dealings; for Hilliston was full of
+smiles and geniality, and did his best to entertain his guest. Could
+Claude have looked below the surface he would have been considerably
+astonished at the inward aspect of the man. Yet a hint was given him of
+such want of concord, for Hilliston showed the cloven hoof before the
+meal ended.
+
+"So you are going to Eastbourne," said Claude, addressing himself to
+Mrs. Hilliston. "I hope you will come over to Thorston during your
+stay."
+
+"It is not unlikely," replied the lady. "Francis intends to make
+excursions all round the country."
+
+"Only for your amusement, my dear," said Hilliston hastily. "You know
+how dreary it is to pace daily up and down that Parade."
+
+"I think Eastbourne is dreary, in any case. It is solely on your account
+that I am going."
+
+Hilliston did not answer, but stole a glance at Claude to see what he
+thought. The face of the young man was inscrutable, though Claude was
+mentally considering that Tait was right, and Hilliston's journey to
+Eastbourne was undertaken to interview Jenny Paynton.
+
+"I don't like your English watering-places," continued Mrs. Hilliston
+idly. "They are so exasperatingly dull. In America we can have a good
+time at Newport, but all your south coast is devoid of amusement.
+Trouville or Dieppe are more enjoyable than Eastbourne or Folkestone."
+
+"The fault of the national character, my dear Louise. We English take
+our pleasures sadly, you know."
+
+For the sole purpose of seeing what effect it would produce on the
+lawyer Claude purposely introduced the name of the town where his father
+had met his death.
+
+"I wonder you don't try an inland watering-place, Mrs. Hilliston," he
+said calmly; "Bath or Tunbridge Wells or--Horriston."
+
+Hilliston looked up quickly, and then busied himself with his food.
+Discomposed as he was, his iron will enabled him to retain a quiet
+demeanor; but the effect of the name on the wife was more pronounced
+than it was on the husband. Her color went, and she laid down her knife
+and fork.
+
+"Ah, I don't know Horriston," she said faintly. "Some inland----Ah, how
+hot this room is. Open the window," she added to the footman, "we want
+fresh air."
+
+Rather astonished at the effect thus produced, Claude would have spoken
+but that Hilliston forestalled him.
+
+"The room is hot," he said lightly, "but the fresh air will soon revive
+you, Louise. I am glad we are going to Eastbourne, for you sadly need a
+change."
+
+"The season has been rather trying," replied his wife, resuming her
+dinner. "What were you saying about Horriston, Claude?"
+
+"Nothing. I only know it is a provincial town set in beautiful scenery.
+I thought you might wish to try a change from the fashionable seaside
+place."
+
+"I might go there if it is pretty," answered Mrs. Hilliston, who was now
+perfectly composed. "Where is Horriston?"
+
+"In Kent," interposed Hilliston quickly, "not very far from Canterbury.
+I have been there myself, but as it is a rather dull neighborhood, I
+would not advise you to try it."
+
+Despite her denial Claude felt certain that Mrs. Hilliston was
+acquainted with Horriston, for on the plea of indisposition she left the
+table before the dinner was ended. As she passed through the door she
+playfully tipped Claude on the shoulder with her fan.
+
+"Don't forget to come and see us at Eastbourne," she said vivaciously,
+"and bring Mr. Tait with you. He is a great favorite of mine."
+
+This Claude promised to do, and, when she left the room, returned to his
+seat with a rather puzzled expression on his face. Hilliston saw the
+look, and endeavored to banish it by a hasty explanation.
+
+"You rather startled my wife by mentioning Horriston," he said, in an
+annoyed tone. "I wish you had not done so. As it is connected with the
+case she naturally feels an antipathy toward it."
+
+"What! Does Mrs. Hilliston know about my father's death?" asked Claude,
+in some surprise.
+
+"Yes. When we married, she wanted to know why you lived in the house
+with me, so I was forced to explain all the circumstances."
+
+"Do you think that was necessary?"
+
+"I do. You know how suspicious women are," replied Hilliston lightly;
+"they will know the truth. But you can trust to her discretion, Claude.
+No one will hear of it from her."
+
+At this moment a footman entered the room with a message from Mrs.
+Hilliston.
+
+"My mistress wants to know if you have the third volume of 'A Whim of
+Fate,' sir?" said the servant.
+
+"No," replied Hilliston sharply. "Tell your mistress that I took it to
+my office by mistake. She will have it to-morrow."
+
+Claude thought this strange, and when the footman retired Hilliston made
+another explanation equally as unsatisfactory as the first.
+
+"I am so interested in that book that I could not leave it at home," he
+said quickly; "and now that I have met the author I am doubly interested
+in it."
+
+Another proof of Tait's acumen. Hilliston was the first to introduce the
+subject of John Parver.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+                            A DUEL OF WORDS.
+
+
+A LONGISH pause ensued between the two men. Hilliston seemed to be in no
+hurry to continue the conversation, and Claude, with his eyes fixed
+absently on his glass, pondered over the facts that Mrs. Hilliston had
+an aversion to Horriston, and that the lawyer had taken the third volume
+of the novel out of the house. The two facts seemed to have some
+connection with each other, but what the connection might be Claude
+could not rightly conclude.
+
+From his frequent talks with Tait he knew that the third volume
+contained the episode of the scarfpin, which was instrumental in
+bringing the fictitious murderer to justice. The assassin in the novel
+was meant for Hilliston, and remembering this Claude wondered whether
+there might not be some reason for his removal of the book. Mrs.
+Hilliston had quailed at the mention of Horriston, and the explanation
+given by her husband did not satisfy Larcher. What reason could she have
+for taking more than a passing interest in the tragic story? Why, after
+ten years, should she pale at the mention of the neighborhood? Claude
+asked himself these two questions, but could find no satisfactory answer
+to either of them.
+
+He was toying with his wineglass while thinking, when a sudden thought
+made him grip the slender stem with spasmodic force. Was it possible
+that Mrs. Hilliston could have been in the neighborhood five-and-twenty
+years before; that she could have heard some talk of that scarfpin which
+was not mentioned at the trial, but which Tait insisted was an actual
+fact, and no figment of the novelist's brain; and finally, could it be
+that Hilliston had purposely removed the third volume of "A Whim of
+Fate" so that his wife should not have her memory refreshed by a
+relation of the incident. It was very strange.
+
+Thus thinking, Claude glanced stealthily at his guardian, who was
+musingly smoking his cigar, and drinking his wine. He looked calm, and
+content, and prosperous. Nevertheless, Claude was by no means so sure of
+his innocence as he had been. Hilliston's confusion, his hesitation, his
+evasion, instilled doubts into the young man's mind. He determined to
+gain a knowledge of the truth by questions, and mentally arranged these
+as follows: First he would try and learn somewhat of the past of Mrs.
+Hilliston, for, beyond the fact that she was an American, he knew
+nothing of it. Second, he would lead Hilliston to talk of the scarfpin,
+and see if the reference annoyed him; and, third, he would endeavor to
+discover if the lawyer was averse to his wife reading the novel. With
+his plans thus cut and dried, he spoke abruptly to his guardian:
+
+"I am sorry Mrs. Hilliston's health is so bad."
+
+"It is not bad, my dear fellow," replied the lawyer, lifting his head.
+"She is a very strong woman; but of course, the fatigue of a London
+season tells on the healthiest constitution. That is why I wish her to
+go to Eastbourne."
+
+"Why not take her to Horriston?"
+
+"Why should I? She connects the place with the story of your father,
+about whom I was forced to speak ten years ago; and, speaking
+personally, I have no desire to return there, and recall the horrors of
+the past."
+
+"You were greatly affected by my father's death?"
+
+"Naturally; he was my dearest friend. I would have given anything to
+discover the assassin."
+
+"Did Mrs. Hilliston give you her opinion as to who was guilty?"
+
+"No. I told her as little as I could of so painful a subject. She is not
+in possession of all the facts."
+
+"At that rate why let her read 'A Whim of Fate'?"
+
+"I don't wish her to read it," answered Hilliston quietly; "but I left
+the novel lying about, and she read the first two volumes. If I can help
+it, she shall not finish the story."
+
+"Why object to her reading the third volume?"
+
+"Because it would recall the past too vividly to her mind."
+
+"I hardly follow you there," said Claude, with a keen look. "The fact to
+which you refer cannot exist for your wife. To her the novel can only be
+a second telling of the story related by you, when she wished to know
+who I was."
+
+"That is very true. Nevertheless, it made so painful an impression on
+her excitable nature that I am unwilling that her memory should be
+refreshed. Take another glass of wine, my boy."
+
+Hilliston evidently wished to turn the conversation, but Claude was too
+determined on learning the truth to deviate from his course. Slowly
+filling his glass with claret he pushed the jug toward Hilliston, and
+pursued his questioning:
+
+"The American nature is rather excitable, isn't it? By the way, is Mrs.
+Hilliston a pure-blooded Yankee?"
+
+"Yes," said Hilliston, with suspicious promptitude; "she was a Chicago
+belle, and married a millionaire in the pork line called Derrick. He
+died soon after the marriage, so she came to England and married me."
+
+"It was her first visit to England, no doubt."
+
+"Her first visit," replied Hilliston gravely. "All her former life was
+passed in New York, Boston, and Chicago. But what odd questions you
+ask," added the lawyer, in a vexed tone. "Surely you do not think that
+my wife was at Horriston twenty-five years ago, or that she knows aught
+of this crime save what I have told her?"
+
+"Of course, I think nothing of the sort," said Larcher hastily, and what
+is more he believed what he said. It was impossible that Mrs. Hilliston,
+American born and bred, who had only been in England twelve years,
+should know anything of an obscure crime committed in a dull provincial
+town thirteen years before the date of her arrival. Hitherto his
+questionings had eventuated in little, so he turned the conversation
+into another groove, and tried to learn if Hilliston knew anything of
+Jenny Paynton.
+
+"What do you think of John Parver?"
+
+"He seemed an intelligent young fellow. Is that his real name?"
+
+"No. His name is Frank Linton, the son of the vicar of Thorston."
+
+"What! He belongs to the place whither you go with Tait," exclaimed
+Hilliston, with a startled air. "That is strange. You may learn there
+whence he obtained the materials for his novel."
+
+"I know that. He obtained them from Miss Paynton."
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"A literary young lady who lives at Thorston with her folks. But I fancy
+Linton mentioned that he had told you about her."
+
+"Well he did and he didn't," said Hilliston, in some confusion; "that
+is, he admitted that the story was founded on fact, but he did not tell
+me whence he obtained such facts. I suppose it is your intention to
+question this young lady."
+
+"Yes. I want to know how she heard of the matter."
+
+"Pooh! Read it in a provincial newspaper, no doubt."
+
+"I think not," replied Claude, with some point. "It is next to
+impossible that she should come across a paper containing an account of
+the trial. People don't keep such grewsome matters by them, unless they
+have an interest in doing so."
+
+"Well, this young lady cannot be one of those persons. How old is she?"
+
+"Four-and-twenty!"
+
+"Ah!" said Hilliston with a sigh of relief, "she was not born when your
+father was murdered. You must see she can know nothing positive of the
+matter."
+
+"Then how did she supply Linton with the materials for this book?"
+
+"I can only answer that question by reverting to my theory of the
+newspaper."
+
+"Well, even granting that it is so," said Larcher quickly, "she knows
+details of the case which are not set forth in the newspaper."
+
+"How do you know this?" asked Hilliston, biting his lip to control his
+feelings.
+
+"Because in the third volume----"
+
+"Nonsense! nonsense!" interrupted Hilliston violently, "you seem to
+forget that the hard facts of the case have been twisted and turned by
+the novelist's brain. We do not know who slew your father, but the
+novelist had to end his story,--he had to solve the mystery,--and he has
+done so after his own fashion."
+
+Rising from his seat, he paced hurriedly to and fro, talking the while
+with an agitation strange in so hard and self-controlled a man.
+
+"For instance, the character of Michael Dene is obviously taken from me.
+It is not a bit like me, of course, either in speech, or looks, or
+dress. All the novelist knew was that I had given evidence at the trial,
+and that the dead man had been my dearest friend. The circumstances
+suggested a striking dramatic situation--that the dear friend had
+committed the crime for the base love of the wife. Michael Dene is
+guilty in the novel--but the man in real life, myself----You know all I
+know of the case. I would give ten years of my life, short as the span
+now is, to find the man who killed George Larcher."
+
+This was strong speaking, and carried conviction to the heart of Claude,
+the more so when Hilliston further explained himself.
+
+"On the night of the murder I was at the ball three miles off. I knew
+nothing of the matter till I was called upon to identify the corpse of
+your father. It was hardly recognizable, and the face was much
+disfigured, but I recognized him by the color of his hair and the seal
+on his finger."
+
+"How was it that my father was dressed as Darnley?"
+
+"John Parver explains that," said Hilliston sharply. "Jeringham--I
+forget his name in the novel--was dressed as Darnley, and I believe, as
+is set forth in the book, that George Larcher assumed the dress so that
+under his mask your mother might mistake him for Jeringham. Evidently
+she did so, as he learned that she loved Jeringham----"
+
+"One moment," interposed Claude quickly, "my mother denies that
+Jeringham was her lover."
+
+"Your mother?"
+
+"Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"True; I forgot for the moment that you knew she was alive. No doubt she
+is right; and Jeringham was only her friend. But in the novel he is her
+lover; Michael Dene, drawn from myself, is her lover. You see fact and
+fiction are so mixed up that there is no getting at the truth."
+
+"I shall get at the truth," said Claude quietly.
+
+"Never. After such a lapse of time you can discover nothing. Better let
+the dead past bury its dead. I advised you before. I advise you now. You
+will only torture your life, cumber it with a useless task. George
+Larcher is dead and buried, and dust by this time. No one knows who
+killed him, no one ever shall know."
+
+"I am determined to learn the truth!"
+
+"I hope you may, but be advised. Leave this matter alone. You do not
+know what misery you may be laying up for yourself. Why, you have not
+even a clew to start from! Unless," added Hilliston, with a sneer, "you
+follow the example of the novelist and elucidate the mystery by means of
+the scarfpin."
+
+Again Tait was right. Hilliston had himself introduced the subject of
+the scarfpin. Claude immediately took advantage of the opening.
+
+"I suppose that episode is fiction?"
+
+"Of course it is. No scarfpin was found in the garden. Nothing was found
+but the dagger. You know that Michael Dene is supposed to drop that
+scarfpin on the spot. Well, I am the living representative of Michael
+Dene, and I assure you I never owned a garnet cross with a central
+diamond."
+
+"Is that the description of the scarfpin?"
+
+"Yes. Do you not remember? A small Maltese cross of garnets with a
+diamond in the center. The description sounds fictitious. Who ever saw
+such an ornament in real life. But in detective novels the solution of
+the mystery turns on such gew-gaws. A scarfpin, a stud, a link, a
+brooch--all these go to hang a man--in novels."
+
+This assertion that the episode of the scarfpin was fiction was in
+direct contradiction to that of Tait, who declared it to be true. Claude
+was torn by conflicting doubts, but ultimately put the matter out of his
+thoughts. Miss Paynton alone could give a correct opinion as to whether
+it had emanated from her fertile brain, or was really a link in the
+actual case. Judging from the speech of Hilliston, and the silence of
+the newspaper reports, Claude believed that Tait was wrong.
+
+The lawyer and his guest did not go to the drawing room, as Mrs.
+Hilliston sent word that she was going to bed with a bad headache. Under
+the circumstances Claude took his leave, having, as he thought,
+extracted all necessary information from Hilliston. Moreover, he was
+anxious to get back to Tait's chambers and hear what the little man had
+to tell him about Mrs. Bezel. Hilliston said good-by to him at the door.
+
+"I shall see you at Eastbourne, I suppose," he said genially.
+
+"Yes. I will drive over and tell you what Miss Paynton says."
+
+The door closed, and Hilliston, with a frown on his face, stood looking
+at the floor. He was by no means satisfied with the result of the
+interview.
+
+"I wish I could stop him," he muttered, clenching his fist; "stop him at
+any price. If he goes on he will learn the truth, and if he learns the
+truth--ah----"
+
+He drew a long breath, and went upstairs to his wife. As he ascended the
+stairs it seemed to him as though he heard the halting step of Nemesis
+following stealthily behind.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+                           TAIT BRINGS NEWS.
+
+
+AS quick as a fast hansom could take him, Claude drove to Earls Street,
+and found Tait impatiently waiting his arrival. The little man had a
+look of triumph in his eyes, which showed that his interview with Mrs.
+Bezel had been to some purpose. Dormer had placed wine and biscuits on
+the table, and, made hungry by his long journey to Hampstead, Tait was
+partaking of these modest refreshments when Claude entered the room.
+
+"I thought you were never coming," said he, glancing at his watch; "past
+ten o'clock. You must have had an interesting conversation with
+Hilliston to stay so long."
+
+"I have had a very interesting conversation. And you?"
+
+"Oh, I got back thirty minutes ago, after being more than an hour with
+your mother."
+
+"Was she disappointed at my non-appearance?"
+
+"Very much so, but I explained that you had to dine with Hilliston. She
+did not seem to like that either."
+
+"Absurd! She thinks no end of Hilliston, and advised me to see as much
+of him as possible."
+
+"Nevertheless, the idea that you were dining with him did not please
+her; I could only quiet her by telling all I know about Mrs. Hilliston."
+
+When Tait made this remark Claude was taking off his cloak, but he
+paused in doing so to ask a question.
+
+"What possible interest can my mother have in Mrs. Hilliston?"
+
+"I don't know. But she asked me who she was, and where she came from.
+Insisted on a description of her looks, and altogether pumped me dry on
+the subject. I suppose she wished to know something of Hilliston's
+domestic felicity, and, as he has not enlightened her on the subject,
+applied to me."
+
+This explanation, which was accepted implicitly by Claude, was by no
+means the truth. With his usual sharpness Tait had noted Mrs. Bezel was
+profoundly jealous of the lawyer's wife, and from this, and sundry other
+hints, had drawn conclusions by no means flattering to the lady herself.
+Still, as she was Claude's mother, he had too much good breeding, and
+too much liking for his friend, to state his belief--which was that the
+bond between Mr. Hilliston and Mrs. Bezel was not of so harmless a
+nature as they would have the world believe.
+
+With this idea in his head, Tait began to look at the case from the
+point of view adopted by John Parver. Might it not be true that
+Hilliston was the secret lover of the wife and the murderer of the
+husband? Certainly the efforts he was making to stay Claude in solving
+the mystery gave color to the idea. If he were innocent of crime and
+illicit passion he would surely be anxious to hasten, instead of
+retarding, the discovery. Tait's private opinion was that Hilliston had
+the crime of murder on his soul, but for obvious reasons, not
+unconnected with Mrs. Bezel, he did not care to speak openly to Larcher.
+On the contrary, while admitting a disbelief in the lawyer, he feigned a
+doubt of his complicity in the matter which he was far from feeling.
+
+Under these circumstances he had advised Claude to leave the matter
+alone, for he dreaded the effect on his friend's mind when he learned
+the truth.
+
+Whether Hilliston proved innocent or not, the unraveling of the mystery
+would necessarily result in the disclosure of the relations existing
+between him and Mrs. Bezel. Tait shrank from pursuing investigations
+likely to lead to such a result, but the determination of Claude to
+avenge his father's murder left him no option. Against his better
+judgment he was urged along the path of discovery; but trusted when the
+time came to soften the blow of the inevitable result.
+
+In silence he heard the story related by Claude of the evening at
+Hilliston's, and did not comment on the information thus given so
+speedily as Larcher expected. He thought it wiser to delay any remarks
+till he had told the young man of his interview with Mrs. Bezel.
+
+"I need not go into details, Claude," he said, anxious not to say too
+much, "but will tell you as shortly as I can. Mrs. Bezel--it is more
+convenient to speak of her so than to call her your mother--is not
+pleased that you should try and solve this mystery."
+
+"I know that. She thinks it is hopeless, and is unwilling that I should
+waste my time to no purpose. But she should have thought of that before
+inducing Hilliston to show me the paper. Now it is too late, and for my
+own satisfaction, if not for hers, I must go on with the matter. Did you
+relate our conversation with Linton?"
+
+"Yes. And she takes the same view of it as Hilliston. That Miss Paynton
+got the case from a bundle of old newspapers."
+
+"What do you think yourself?"
+
+"I still hold to my opinion," said Tait quietly. "The affair was related
+to Jenny by someone who lived in Horriston at the time the murder took
+place. Else she would never have given Linton that fact about the
+scarfpin, which, as we know, is not mentioned in the report of the
+trial."
+
+"Hilliston says that the episode is fiction."
+
+"Mrs. Bezel says it is fact."
+
+"What! Was a scarfpin of garnets really found in the grounds of The
+Laurels?"
+
+"It was. Mrs. Bezel described the jewel to me, and asserted that it was
+discovered near the bank of the stream."
+
+"Does she know to whom it belonged?"
+
+"No! She had no recollection of having seen it before. Neither your
+father nor Jeringham wore a scarfpin of that pattern."
+
+"It is curious that Hilliston should insist that such a pin never
+existed."
+
+"It is very curious," assented Tait significantly, "especially as it was
+shown to him by Denis Bantry. This one fact ought to convince you that
+Hilliston is playing us false."
+
+"My doubts were confirmed by his manner to-night," replied Claude
+gloomily. "I don't know what his reason may be, or how I can reconcile
+his present behavior with his kindness to my mother, but he certainly
+seems anxious to thwart us if he can."
+
+Tait guessed what the reason was very well, but was too wise to explain
+himself. Granted that a bond existed between Mrs. Bezel and the lawyer,
+and the whole thing became clear, but Mrs. Bezel was Claude's mother, so
+Tait held his peace.
+
+"Why wasn't the scarfpin produced at the trial?" asked Claude, seeing
+his friend made no answer.
+
+"Only one man can answer that question--Denis Bantry."
+
+"Does my mother know where he is?"
+
+"No. She has not set eyes on him since she left Horriston."
+
+"It is strange that he should have suppressed so important a piece of
+evidence," said Claude meditatively, "devoted as he was to my father. I
+should have thought he would have done his best to bring the murderer to
+justice."
+
+"Perhaps he did not know who the murderer was. However, there is no
+doubt that the scarfpin must have told him something about which he
+judged it wise to hold his tongue. Perhaps Miss Paynton can enlighten us
+on the subject."
+
+"Then she must know Denis Bantry."
+
+"So I think," said Tait thoughtfully. "The episode of the scarfpin was
+only known to your mother, to Hilliston, and to Bantry. Jenny Paynton
+does not know your mother, who denied all knowledge of her. She cannot
+be acquainted with Hilliston, or he certainly would not have let her
+make use of the affair for Linton's book, even if he had told her. There
+only remains Denis Bantry. Now, I know that Jenny has lived all her life
+at Thorston, so if she saw this man anywhere it must have been there."
+
+"Is there anyone in the neighborhood you think is he?" asked Larcher,
+greatly excited.
+
+"None that I can call to mind. But then, I don't know the neighborhood
+very well. We must make a thorough exploration of it when we are down
+there."
+
+"Certainly. But it seems to me that the only one who can put us in the
+right track is the girl."
+
+"True enough. I only hope she will be amenable to reason."
+
+Larcher poured himself out a glass of wine and drank it slowly. Then he
+lighted his pipe and returned to his chair with a new idea in his head.
+
+"I wonder why Hilliston told that lie about the scarfpin, Tait?"
+
+"Ask me something easier. I cannot say. We'll learn nothing from him. My
+dear fellow, it is no use asking further questions of your guardian or
+of your mother. We have found out all from them that we can. Nothing now
+remains but to see Jenny Paynton."
+
+"Quite right. And we go to Thorston to-morrow?"
+
+"By the ordinary train. I have written for the dogcart to meet us. By
+this time next week we may know a great deal--we may know the truth."
+
+"That is, if Hilliston doesn't thwart us. He is going down to
+Eastbourne, remember."
+
+"I know. But I intend to get what the Americans call the 'inside
+running,' by seeing Jenny to-morrow evening. The whole case turns on her
+explanation of the scarfpin episode.
+
+"Well," said Claude, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, "we found
+Linton through his book, we found Jenny through Linton. Through her we
+may find Denis Bantry."
+
+"And through Denis Bantry we may find the man who killed your father,"
+finished Tait triumphantly.
+
+"Well, I know what the name of the man will be."
+
+"What will it be?"
+
+"Jeringham."
+
+Tait shrugged his shoulders. Knowing what he did he was by no means
+certain on that point.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+
+                         A PRÉCIS OF THE CASE.
+
+
+A MONTH ago had anyone prophesied that I, Spenser Tait, would be engaged
+in playing the part of an amateur detective, I should have flatly
+contradicted his prognostication. Yet here I am doing my best to solve
+the mystery which hangs round the death of my friend's father. I cannot
+say that I object to the task, for there is something tremendously
+exciting in this man hunt. My friendship for Claude is the principal
+factor which induces me to meddle with the business; but a slight
+flavoring of selfishness is also present.
+
+Hitherto we had been fairly successful, and have at least found a clew
+likely to lead to some certain result. Between Mrs. Bezel, Hilliston,
+and Linton's book, we have learned a good deal of the case; and all our
+knowledge points to an interview with Jenny Paynton as the next step to
+be taken.
+
+To-morrow we start for Thorston for this purpose, but before exploring
+the new field I judge it wise to set down all the facts which have come
+to our knowledge, and to deduce therefrom, if possible, a logical reason
+for our future actions. I have my suspicions, but these are vague and
+intangible. Claude has his suspicions, but these do not coincide with
+mine. He believes Jeringham to be guilty of the crime. I think Hilliston
+is likely to prove the assassin. Both of us may be wrong.
+
+To take the case of Mr. Hilliston. His attitude is decidedly aggressive
+at the present moment, and he is doing his best to dissuade Claude from
+investigating the case. Why should he do so? George Larcher was his
+dearest friend, and met with a cruel fate. If there is any chance of his
+fate being avenged, surely Hilliston should be the first to prosecute
+the inquiries. Instead of doing so he hangs back, and throws cold water
+on my efforts and on Claude's. He must have some reason for his actions.
+Is that reason to be found at Clarence Cottage in Hampstead?
+
+This question brings me to a delicate point. My work is hampered by the
+fact that Mrs. Bezel is Claude's mother, and I dare not express myself
+as I should wish. I gather from the report of the trial that Mrs.
+Larcher was a vain and silly coquette, who threw away the love of a good
+man for the indulgence of her own selfish instincts. Guilty she may have
+been, but not with Jeringham. If she had any lover, it was Francis
+Hilliston. After a visit to Clarence Cottage I believe the view taken of
+the case by the novelist to be the right one.
+
+During my interview with Mrs. Bezel I noted her every look and action.
+When Hilliston's name occurred she flushed up and looked savage; she was
+anxious to know all about the wife at Kensington Gore, and in every way
+showed that she had more interest in the man than she cared to confess.
+Again, she told me that her illness was of ten years' duration.
+Hilliston has been married ten years. What is more likely than that he
+should have wearied of the invalid, and so deserted her for Mrs.
+Derrick, the rich widow.
+
+Mrs. Bezel is jealous of Hilliston and of his wife. Her love has changed
+to hatred, and I verily believe that she would harm him if she could.
+Already she has attempted to do so, for it was only her threat to reveal
+all to Claude that made Hilliston produce that report of the Larcher
+affair. She has told me all she knows, but I cannot help thinking that
+she is keeping back certain facts connected with the case. There is a
+hesitancy and doubt in her speech which points to some secret. If I
+could learn that secret it might establish the guilt of Hilliston.
+
+And yet I cannot believe that. No woman, however vain, however
+frivolous, would have lived with the man who murdered her husband, who
+slew the father of her child. Mrs. Bezel's secret may not directly
+inculpate Hilliston, but it may point toward him as the possible
+assassin. But I cannot believe that she thinks him guilty. Their
+relations with one another forbids so horrible a supposition.
+
+Nevertheless, Hilliston is afraid of the truth coming to light. He
+denies that the garnet scarfpin ever existed, while Mrs. Bezel said she
+saw it herself. If the lawyer is not afraid, why should he tell a
+deliberate lie? It is his word against that of Mrs. Bezel, and as her
+statement is backed up by the description in the novel, I believe she is
+telling the truth. Can it be possible that the scarfpin belonged to
+Hilliston and was dropped by him in the garden of The Laurels on the
+night of the struggle?
+
+Here Hilliston proves an alibi. He stated to Claude that at the hour of
+three o'clock, when the crime was presumably committed, he was at the
+ball in the Horriston Town Hall. If that can be proved, he must,
+perforce, be innocent.
+
+Another supposition: Can Mrs. Larcher be actually guilty of her
+husband's death, and, knowing this, is Hilliston anxious to stop Claude
+in his investigations lest he should learn so terrible a truth? I cannot
+believe this, for Mrs. Larcher, or Bezel, set the ball rolling herself,
+and were she guilty she certainly would not have run such risk.
+
+Then, again, Jeringham fled on the night of the murder. For what reason?
+If Hilliston killed Larcher why should Jeringham fly? If Mrs. Bezel
+killed her husband why should Jeringham fly? I see no reason in his
+flight, and yet if he were guilty and Hilliston knew him to be guilty
+why should he try and screen him at the present time? Altogether the
+case is so confusing that I do not know what to think or whom to
+suspect.
+
+I wonder what has become of Mona Bantry and her child? Mrs. Bezel said
+she had not seen the girl or her brother for twenty-five years. Yet they
+must be somewhere. Circumstances point to Jenny Paynton having heard the
+story of the tragedy from Denis, for no one else could have revealed the
+episode of the scarfpin, or have described the jewel. If Denis told her
+he must live at Thorston, and if he lives there his sister must be with
+him. If this pair, who were in the house on the night of the murder, can
+be found, the truth may come to light.
+
+After searching Thorston and finding out all I can from the
+Bantrys,--presuming them to be there,--it is my intention to go down to
+Horriston and find out someone who remembers the case. In spite of the
+lapse of time there must be some old people alive who danced at that
+ball in their hot youth. They may be able to say if George Larcher was
+there present in the character of Darnley, and at what time Hilliston
+left the ball. I may also hear what they think of Jeringham, and of the
+conduct of Mrs. Bezel. In making these investigations I shall not take
+Claude, as I shrewdly suspect the opinions of these oldsters regarding
+his mother are anything but flattering to that lady. If I go to
+Horriston I must go alone.
+
+On reading over these notes I am hardly satisfied with them. They do not
+seem to give me much basis on which to work. I suspect this person and
+the other, but I have very little evidence to back me up in such
+suspicions. The only thing that seems clear to me is that Hilliston has
+some object in thwarting our plans. What the object is I must find out.
+Perhaps I shall do so at Thorston, where I am certain to meet both
+Hilliston and his wife.
+
+And that reminds me of what Claude related about her emotion this
+evening. It is certainly curious, but the worst of dabbling in detective
+business is that one is apt to get over-suspicious. In this case I think
+there is no ground for suspicion. Mrs. Hilliston is an American, and
+came to England twelve years ago. I know this for certain, for I
+remember when she made her _début_ in society. This being the case, she
+cannot possibly have any connection with Horriston, and her emotion must
+have been merely the recollection of the story related by her husband
+when he told her of Claude.
+
+Well, it is past midnight, and I had better end these unsatisfactory
+notes. Detective business is harder than I thought. How am I to evolve
+order out of all this chaos I hardly know, save to trust to luck and
+Jenny Paynton. And so to bed, as saith worthy Samuel Pepys.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+                               THORSTON.
+
+
+IT is astonishing how closely one village resembles another in
+appearance. The square-towered church, the one winding street, the
+low-roofed inn, and red-tiled cottages, isolated by narrow alleys; corn
+lands and comfortable farms around, and still further the mansions, more
+or less stately, of the county families. Go where you will in the
+southern countries, all the villages are so constituted; one description
+serves for all, though on occasions the expanse of the Channel
+introduces a new feature into the landscape. Thorston was of the same
+class, but, in its own opinion, had more pretentions to grandeur than
+its neighbors.
+
+Before the Conquest it had been a considerable Saxon town, and, as its
+name indicates, had flourished before the introduction of Christianity
+into England. There, according to tradition, a temple to Thor the
+Thunderer had stood on the hill now crowned with the church; hence the
+name of Thor's town. Report said that Edward the Confessor had built the
+church, but of his work little remained, and the present building was
+due to the piety or fears of a Norman baron, who wished to expiate his
+sins after the fashion of those times, by erecting a house to some
+interceding saint. In the present instance this church was dedicated to
+St. Elfrida, the holy daughter of Athelstan, who renounced her father's
+court to found a nunnery by the winding river Lax, famous for salmon, as
+is plainly hinted by its Scandinavian appellation. Yet notwithstanding
+church and tradition, Thorston had never since been of much importance,
+and it was now but an ordinary rural village, quaint and sleepy.
+
+From Eastbourne the road, winding, dipping, rising, and curving like a
+white snake, ran over hill, through dale, along plain, till it
+ultimately formed the High Street of Thorston. Thence it ran again into
+the country, but at this point it made its way between houses, thatched
+and old; and toward the center opened into a market-place adorned by an
+antique cross. The Inn of St. Elfrida, with an effigy of the saint for a
+sign, stood on the right of this square, fronting the battered cross;
+directly opposite a narrow road led on to the village green, at the end
+of which rose the low hill whereon the Church of St. Elfrida stood amid
+its trees. Lower down by the Lax could be seen the ruins of her nunnery,
+and a well frequented by her was to be inspected in the near
+neighborhood. Here, said the legend, she fought with the devil, who
+strove to carry away the tower of the church, and being worsted, as the
+demons always were by Mother Church, he dropped the tower a few yards
+off the main building. As a matter of fact the square tower is detached
+from the church, but, as has before been stated, it was built by the
+Normans long after Elfrida was laid to rest. But the legend took no
+account of dates, nor did the natives of Thorston, who would have been
+highly offended had anyone denied the authenticity of their story. In
+confirmation thereof they referred to the guide book--a notable
+authority truly.
+
+The whole neighborhood was full of St. Elfrida, who must have been a
+busy saint in her day, and numerous tourists came to view church, and
+tower, and holy well. The village derived quite an income from her
+reputation, and valued the saint accordingly. Amid ancient oaks stood
+the gray church with its detached tower; around lichened tombstones
+leaned over one another, and rank grass grew up to the verge of the low
+stone wall which ran like a battlement round the crest of the little
+hill. A flight of rugged steps led up to the lych-gate, and here stood a
+pretty girl in converse with Frank Linton, alias John Parver.
+
+It was a hot summer's day, and the golden light, piercing through the
+foliage of the trees, enveloped the girl in a glittering haze. She was
+extremely pretty; dark-eyed, dark-haired, with a complexion of roses and
+lilies, and as neat a figure as was ever seen. Envious people said that
+Miss Paynton pinched her waist, but such was not the case, for she was
+too careless of her appearance, and too careful of her health, to
+sacrifice the latter to the former. As a matter of fact, she appreciated
+brains more than beauty, and much preferred to exercise the first in
+clever conversation than to be complimented on the second. Linton, who
+had known her for many years, skillfully combined the two modes of
+paying homage to his divinity. That he received hard words in return was
+to be expected, for Jenny knew her power over the youth, and liked to
+exercise it. She was the least vain of mortals, but could not hide from
+herself that she was clever and pretty, and therefore entitled to
+indulge in coquetry.
+
+"You grow more beautiful every day, Jenny," said Linton, who had lately
+arrived from town and was making up for lost time.
+
+"And you more stupid," retorted Miss Paynton, climbing up on the low
+wall, where she sat and smiled at him from under her straw hat. "If you
+have come here to pay me compliments you can go away again. I want you
+to talk sense, not nonsense."
+
+"What shall I talk about?"
+
+"As if there were any question of that," said she, in supreme disdain.
+"Are you not famous now? Tell me of your success."
+
+"You know about it already. I sent you all the papers. 'A Whim of Fate,'
+is the book of the season."
+
+"Oh, just think of that now! Oh, lucky, lucky Frank! So young and so
+successful. You ought to be happy."
+
+"I am happy, because I now see a chance of making you my----"
+
+"Now you are talking nonsense," cried Jenny, ruthlessly interrupting
+him. "I won't hear a word more, you ridiculous boy. You are my brother,
+nothing more."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Don't talk about it, Frank. Be sensible. Come now, you have not yet
+told me how your father received the news."
+
+"Oh, he is pleased, of course," said Linton, unwillingly changing the
+subject; "but he reserves his opinion till he has read the book. If he
+doesn't like it he'll very likely order me to stop writing."
+
+"I'm sure he won't," said Jenny promptly. "You'll make more as an author
+than as a lawyer."
+
+"No doubt, if you continue to supply me with such excellent plots. I
+wish I had your invention, Jenny."
+
+"It was not invention. You know that quite well. I found an account of
+the trial in an old bundle of provincial newspapers. I couldn't have
+made up such a story."
+
+"Jenny," asked Linton, with some apprehension, "has your father read the
+book?"
+
+"No; I asked him to do so, but he refuses to read novels. History is
+what he likes--kings and dates, and battles. Father wouldn't waste a
+minute over fiction."
+
+"I hope he won't be angry at your giving me the plot, Jenny."
+
+Miss Paynton stared at him in surprise, and burst into a merry laugh.
+His objection seemed supremely ridiculous to her at that moment.
+
+"My dear boy, why should he? The account of an old murder case can have
+nothing to do with him. I found the papers in the garret among a heap of
+old books. I don't suppose he knows of their existence."
+
+"It was a real case, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes; it took place at Horriston in 1866. But of course the public need
+not know that."
+
+"Well, I told someone about it."
+
+"Oh, you are an idiot, Frank; or else," added Jenny more graciously,
+"you are very honest. I suppose you explained that the story was founded
+on fact?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who asked you about it?"
+
+"Three people. An old gentleman, and two young men."
+
+"What are their names?" asked Jenny curiously.
+
+"I forget. The third one was called Tait, I think, but I don't remember
+the names of the other two. It doesn't matter, you know," continued the
+novelist hastily; "lots of authors found their plots on episodes in real
+life."
+
+"Oh, it's of no consequence," said Jenny idly. "I suppose they thought
+the plot was too clever for you to invent. At all events the credit is
+due to you for solving the mystery."
+
+"Ah! But did I solve it properly? Do you think Michael Dene committed
+the crime?"
+
+"No, I don't!" rejoined Jenny promptly. "I think Jeringham did."
+
+"Jeringham. Who is he?"
+
+"I forgot," said Jenny, with some dismay, "I did not tell you the real
+names of the people. Jeringham is the man you call Markham in the book.
+If you remember, I wanted you to make him commit the crime."
+
+"If I had done so no one would have read the book," protested the
+author. "His flight made it so patent that he was guilty; and I had to
+put the crime on to someone like Dene, whom no reader would suspect. Do
+you think that Markham--Jeringham really committed the murder?"
+
+"Yes, I do. If he was innocent why did he fly?"
+
+"Was he ever found again," asked Linton, with some curiosity.
+
+"Never! It is five-and-twenty years ago since the murder was committed,
+and it is a mystery to this day."
+
+"I'd like to read that newspaper report for myself," said the author,
+after a pause. "Could you not let me see it?"
+
+Jenny shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she replied guiltily. "You see
+Kerry found me with the papers one day and took them away. He was very
+angry, and said I had no business to look at them."
+
+"My stars!" cried Linton, in a startled tone; "what will he say when he
+finds out that you and I have made use of them?"
+
+"He won't find out," replied Jenny, jumping down off the wall. "Kerry
+never reads novels, and no one will tell him. Oh, it's quite safe,
+Frank, quite safe."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that, Jenny. My father will talk about my book to
+Mr. Paynton, and he'll tell Kerry."
+
+"Well, what if he does," cried Jenny, skipping down the steps. "I'm sure
+I don't care if Kerry does know. Who cares for a musty, fusty old crime
+of five-and-twenty years ago? Don't trouble about it, Frank. I'll take
+the blame."
+
+Linton walked on in silence beside her, and they entered the market
+place on their way to the vicarage, He was beginning to have some qualms
+about the matter. Kerry had a very bad temper, and Linton was by no
+means anxious to encounter him.
+
+"I wish we had left it alone," he said gloomily, pausing by the cross in
+the square.
+
+"Nonsense! Don't be a moral coward," said Jenny pettishly. "I'll take
+the blame on myself. Kerry can't kill me be----"
+
+At this point she was interrupted by a dog-cart containing two young
+men, which spun past rapidly. The driver took off his hat to Miss
+Paynton with a smile.
+
+"Oh!" said Jenny composedly, when the vehicle had vanished, "there is
+our new Lord of the Manor, Mr. Tait."
+
+"Why, those are the two fellows who questioned me about my story!" cried
+Linton.
+
+"Are they? Yes, you mentioned the name of Tait," said Jenny quietly;
+"but what does it matter? What a fuss you make over nothing."
+
+"Jenny," said Linton solemnly, "there is going to be trouble over that
+story."
+
+Miss Paynton stared at him in surprise, then pointed an accusing finger
+at him.
+
+"Francis Linton," she said slowly, "you are a silly fool. If ever I help
+you again in your writing, I give you leave to marry me."
+
+Then she ran away and left him dumfounded in the market place. But she
+was by no means so light-hearted as she appeared to be. Kerry's anger,
+the questions of the two strangers, made her feel uneasy, and she
+thought it would have been better had she left the provincial newspapers
+in the garret. But Fate decided otherwise, and Jenny Paynton, though she
+knew it not, was an unconscious instrument to revive interest in a
+forgotten case, to solve a mystery of five-and-twenty years, and to
+bring an unknown criminal to justice. Life is a chess board, we are the
+puppets, and Fate plays the game.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+                             IN THE CHURCH.
+
+
+THORSTON MANOR, built in broad meadow land, about a quarter of a mile
+from the village, was now the property of Spencer Tait. He had purchased
+it lately at a small price from old Miss Felcar, the last representative
+of that ancient family. She, unable to maintain the house in its
+original splendor, got quit of it altogether in this way, and shortly
+afterward took up her quarters at Eastbourne, leaving the house of her
+ancestors in the possession of a stranger.
+
+The house itself was of no great pretensions, or age, dating only from
+the second George--a square, red-brick mansion, only redeemed from
+actual ugliness by the mellow beauty of its hues. The grounds themselves
+were better, and the trees best of all. An avenue curved nobly to the
+gate, which gave on the highroad, and to the right of this, fronting the
+house, was a delightful garden, laid out in the Dutch fashion. There
+were yew trees cut into quaint shapes, stiff and formal hedges running
+in straight lines, and beds of old-fashioned flowers. A fountain, a
+summer house, and a statue or two completed the furniture of this
+pleasant ground, to which Tait introduced his friend with unconcealed
+pride.
+
+"I paid for this," he said, looking round as they paced the broad walks.
+"By itself the house is a monstrosity, only rendered endurable by its
+years; but you must confess that the garden is worth the money."
+
+"It is certainly quaint," replied Larcher, looking around with an absent
+air, "but I do not care for nature in buckram. The formality of this
+place offends my eye."
+
+"Ah, my dear fellow, you have been used to the wildness of New Zealand
+woods of late. You will find these grounds grow on you. I shall leave
+you alone this afternoon to make the attempt."
+
+"Indeed," said Larcher, in some surprise at this cavalier treatment,
+"and what do you intend to do?"
+
+"I am going to church."
+
+"To church--on a week-day?"
+
+"Oh, I am not bent on devotion, Claude. But Miss Paynton is the organist
+of the parish. To-day is Wednesday, when she is accustomed to practice
+between three and five. I propose to see her there."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Can't you guess? To forestall her with Hilliston. That gentleman is at
+Eastbourne, and will probably come over to-day or to-morrow to ask Jenny
+to hold her tongue. As we can't afford to run such a risk, I must get
+all I can out of her to-day."
+
+"Can I come also?"
+
+"No!" replied Tait promptly. "It would be necessary for me to introduce
+you."
+
+"What of that? Does it matter?"
+
+"It matters a great deal. Miss Paynton has, we believe, obtained the
+plot of Linton's novel from a report of the trial. She will know the
+name of Larcher, and when she hears that you are called so, she will
+probably take fright and hold her tongue."
+
+"But why should she think I have anything to do with the case?"
+
+"Your own name. Your guardian's," answered Tait quietly. "Both are
+mentioned in the report of the trial. Oh, I assure you, Jenny is a
+clever girl, and knows that two and two make four. She will put this and
+that together, with the result that nothing will be gained by the
+interview."
+
+"Well, well, go alone," said Claude crossly; "though I envy you the
+chance. She is a pretty girl, from the glimpse I caught of her."
+
+"And as wise as she is pretty," laughed Tait. "I will need all my wits
+to deal with her. Now, is it settled?"
+
+"Yes. You go to your organist, and I'll potter about these green alleys
+and think myself an abbe of Louis XIV.'s time."
+
+Having come to this amicable understanding, they went in to luncheon,
+after which Tait gave Claude a sketch of the people in the neighborhood.
+Later on he sent him into the Dutch garden with a cigar and a book, then
+betook himself by a short cut through the park to the Church of St.
+Elfrida. Shortly after four he entered by the main door, and found
+himself in the aisle listening to the rolling notes of the organ.
+
+There was no attempt at decoration in that church, for the vicar was
+broad in his views, and hating all ritualism from his soul, took a pride
+in keeping the edifice bare and unadorned. The heavy arches of gray
+stone, the white-washed walls, with here and there a mural tablet, the
+plain communion table under the single stained-glass window; nothing
+could be less attractive. Only the deep hues of roof and pews, the
+golden pipes of the organ, and the noble lectern, with its brazen eagle,
+preserved the church from looking absolutely irreverent. Through the
+glazed windows of plain glass poured in the white light of day, so that
+the interior lacked the reverent gloom, most fitted to the building, and
+the marks of time were shown up in what might be termed a cruel manner.
+Of old, St. Elfrida's had been rich in precious marbles, in splendid
+altars, and gorgeous windows, many-hued and elaborate; but the Puritans
+had destroyed all these, and reduced the place to its present bareness,
+which the vicar took a pride in preserving. It seemed a shame that so
+noble a monument of Norman architecture should be so neglected.
+
+The red curtains of the organ loft hid the player, but Tait knew that it
+was Jenny by the touch, and sat down in a pew to wait till she had
+finished her practising. One piece followed the other, and the stately
+music vibrated among the arches in great bursts of sound, a march, an
+anthem, an offertory, till Tait almost fell asleep, lulled by the drone
+of the pipes. At length Jenny brought her performance to an end, and
+having dismissed the boy who attended to the bellows, tripped down the
+aisle with a music book under her arm. She looked as fresh and pink as a
+rose, but quite out of place in that bare, bleak building. Toward her
+Tait advanced with a bow.
+
+"Here I am, you see, Miss Paynton," he said, shaking her by the hand. "I
+heard your music, and could not help coming in to listen. I hope you do
+not mind my intrusion."
+
+"Oh, the Lord of the Manor can go anywhere," said Jenny demurely. "I am
+glad to see you again, Mr. Tait. The second time to-day, is it not?"
+
+"Yes; I drove past you in the market place, if I remember rightly. Won't
+you sit down, Miss Paynton, and give me all the news. I am terribly
+ignorant of local gossip, I assure you."
+
+Nothing loath, the girl seated herself in a pew near the door, and
+occupied herself in fixing her glove. Remembering the conversation with
+Linton, she was slightly uneasy at Tait's very direct request, but
+thinking that it could not possibly have anything to do with the plot of
+Linton's novel, resigned herself to circumstances. Before the
+conversation ended she wished that she had refused to speak to Tait at
+that moment; but it was then too late.
+
+"News," she repeated with a laugh, "do we ever have any news in this
+dreary place. I should rather ask you for news, Mr. Tait, who are fresh
+from London."
+
+"Oh, but no doubt our young author has already told you all that is
+worth hearing," said Tait, deftly leading up to his point; "he has been
+quite the lion of the season."
+
+"Yes. He has been very fortunate," replied Jenny carefully. She did not
+relish the sudden introduction of this forbidden subject.
+
+"And he owes it to you, I believe."
+
+"To me. Good gracious, Mr. Tait! what have I to do with Frank's
+success?"
+
+"According to what he says, everything."
+
+"What do you mean," she said, sitting up very straight, with a deeper
+color than usual on her cheek.
+
+"Why," said Tait, looking directly at her, and thereby adding to her
+confusion, "Frank told me that you supplied the plot of 'A Whim of
+Fate.'"
+
+"And what if I did, Mr. Tait?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, only I must compliment you on your--shall we say selection
+or invention?"
+
+"The former," replied Jenny, with extraordinary quickness. "Since Frank
+makes no secret of it, why should I? The plot was told him by me, and I
+found it set forth as a trial in a newspaper of 1866."
+
+"H'm! In the _Canterbury Observer_, I believe?"
+
+"How do you know that is the name of the paper?" she asked in a nervous
+tone.
+
+"I learned it from the same source that supplied me with the history of
+the Larcher affair."
+
+"What! You also know the name of the case?"
+
+"As you see."
+
+"Frank does not know it. I did not show him the papers. I suppressed all
+names when I told the story," she said incoherently; "but now
+you--you----"
+
+"I know all. Yes, you are right," observed Tait complacently. "I am
+better acquainted with the plot of 'A Whim of Fate' than John Parver
+himself."
+
+Jenny sat looking at him in a kind of wild amazement. From the
+significance of his tone, the extent of his knowledge, she vaguely felt
+that something was wrong. Again, the anger of Kerry, the conversation of
+Linton, came into her mind, and she saw into what difficulty the chance
+telling of that ancient crime had led her. Tait noticed that she was
+perplexed and frightened, so dexterously strove to set her more at ease
+by making a clean breast of it, and enlisting her sympathy for Claude.
+
+"You saw the friend who was with me in the cart, Miss Paynton?"
+
+"Yes. Who is he?"
+
+"Claude Larcher!"
+
+"Claude La----What do you mean, Mr. Tait? I am in the dark. I do not
+understand. Have I done anything wrong in--in----"
+
+"In telling the case to Linton?" finished Tait smoothly. "By no means.
+As a matter of fact you have done my friend a service."
+
+"He is called Larcher! Who is he?" she asked again with an effort.
+
+"He is the son of George Larcher, who was murdered at Horriston in
+1866."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+                           FACT AND FICTION.
+
+
+A SILENCE ensued between them; Tait waiting to mark the effect of his
+revelation, while Jenny tried to grasp the idea that fiction had changed
+unexpectedly to fact. To her the case had been more or less of a
+romance, far removed and impossible; as such she had told it to Linton;
+but now, brought face to face with the fact that the murdered man's son
+was in the neighborhood, she scarcely knew what to think, certainly she
+was ignorant what to say. The shock would have unstrung a more nervous
+woman, but Jenny Paynton was not wanting in pluck, and so braced herself
+up to do what was required of her. Yet it took her a little time to
+recover, and seeing this, Tait afforded her the opportunity by talking
+broadly of the matter; later on he intended to enter into details.
+
+"I do not wonder you are startled, Miss Paynton," he said easily; "this
+is a coincidence such as we rarely meet with in real life. My friend was
+ignorant of his father's fate, but one evening papers were put into his
+hands which recounted the tragedy; papers similar to those whence you
+obtained the story. He came to tell me all, but scarcely had he begun
+his relation, when I became aware that I knew everything beforehand."
+
+"Had you also seen the papers, Mr. Tait?"
+
+"No; but I had read 'A Whim of Fate.' There I found the Larcher affair
+set forth in the guise of fiction. Astonished at this I sought out
+Linton, who, I learned, was the author hidden under the name of John
+Parver, and asked him whence he obtained his material. He mentioned your
+name, and so I have come to you."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Can you ask? To find out all you know of the matter."
+
+"For what reason?"
+
+"I think you can guess my reason," replied Tait quietly. "My friend
+Claude Larcher wishes to find out who killed his father."
+
+"After five-and-twenty years? Impossible!"
+
+"So I said at first. Now I am of a different opinion. In a short space
+of time we have found out a great deal. With your help we will discover
+more, and so in the end the matter may be cleared up."
+
+"You want my help?"
+
+"Decidedly! It is solely for that reason that Larcher and I have come
+here."
+
+It was a pale-faced Jenny who sat considering a reply to this remark.
+She began to be aware that she had inadvertently set a ball rolling, the
+progress of which she was powerless to stop. That chance discovery in
+the garret had resuscitated an old scandal, and brought her into contact
+with people of whose existence she had hitherto been ignorant. As a
+matter of fact Jenny was responsible for the revival of the Larcher
+affair. Her narration of the plot had caused the writing of the novel,
+and that in its turn had freshened the memory of Mrs. Bezel, with the
+result that Claude had been told the truth. Now he had come to the
+source to learn more.
+
+"I don't see how I can help," said Jenny, fencing with the inevitable.
+"If, as you say, Mr. Larcher saw the _Canterbury Observer_, he must know
+as much as I do about the matter."
+
+"Very true," replied Tait promptly; "but there are many things in the
+novel which are not mentioned in the report of the case."
+
+"Those things are fictitious. You must go to Frank for information about
+them."
+
+"Was that scarfpin episode fictitious?"
+
+"No," replied Jenny, with some hesitation. "Kerry told me that."
+
+"Kerry!"
+
+"Our man-servant. He has been with my father ever since I can remember,
+and is quite the autocrat of the household. He found me with those
+papers one day after I told Frank the story, and took them away from me.
+You have no idea how angry he was that I had read them."
+
+"Yet he told you about the scarfpin?"
+
+"Oh! that was because I asked him who had committed the crime," said
+Jenny quickly. "At first he would not talk about it, but when I said
+that no doubt Jeringham was guilty, since he had fled, Kerry denied it,
+and asserted that the crime was committed by the man who owned the
+garnet scarfpin."
+
+"Did he say who owned it?"
+
+"No. He went away before I could ask him, and will not let me speak of
+the matter. In the book Frank makes Michael Dene the owner of the pin."
+
+"Ah! and Michael Dene is Francis Hilliston in real life."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked the girl quickly, with a nervous start.
+
+"My dear young lady, I have read the report of the case and the novel.
+It is easy to see who your fictitious personages are. Do you know Mr.
+Hilliston?"
+
+"A little. He has visited my father once or twice, but we have not seen
+him now for many years. In fact, I had almost forgotten his name till I
+saw it in the case."
+
+"Humph! In the novel Michael Dene, the man meant for Hilliston, commits
+the crime. Was that your idea or Linton's?"
+
+"It was Frank's. Dene was the least likely person to be suspected, and
+it was necessary to keep up the mystery to the end. But I think he ought
+to have made Markham commit the crime."
+
+"Markham is Jeringham, is he not?" said Tait thoughtfully. "With your
+permission, Miss Paynton, we will use the real names, not the
+fictitious. It will help us to understand the matter more clearly."
+
+Jenny stood up, and tucked the music book under her arm. The
+recollection of Kerry's anger made her feel that she was unwise to talk
+so freely to a stranger about the matter. Hitherto, Tait had taken his
+own way; now she was resolved to take hers.
+
+"I don't want to speak any more about it," she said resolutely. "I am
+very sorry I told Frank the story, and meddled with those papers. Let me
+pass, Mr. Tait, and drop the subject."
+
+"No, don't do that," cried Tait, rising in his turn, and barring her
+way. "You must not fail me at the eleventh hour. My friend is bent on
+learning the truth, and surely you will not grudge him help. Remember it
+is the murderer of his father whom he desires to bring to justice."
+
+"I can't say any more. I know no more, Mr. Tait. Do you know what I am
+about to do?"
+
+"No," said Tait, looking at her grave face in some wonder.
+
+"I am going home to tell my father and Kerry what use I made of those
+papers. If I have acted wrongly, it is but right that they should know."
+
+"They will know shortly without your telling, Miss Jenny."
+
+"Ah, you intend to speak of the matter yourself?"
+
+"Perhaps! But in this case I allude to Hilliston."
+
+"Hilliston!" repeated Jenny, in surprise. "What has he to do with the
+matter?"
+
+"A great deal, I fancy. More than you or I suspect. He is now at
+Eastbourne, and I am certain he will come over here to see you
+to-morrow."
+
+"To see me! Why?"
+
+"Because he wants you to hold your tongue about these matters."
+
+"Mr. Tait," she cried, with a sudden flush, "surely you are not biased
+by Frank's book? You imply that Mr. Hilliston is afraid of the truth."
+
+"I think he is! In fact I am sure he is."
+
+"Do you believe he committed that cowardly crime of twenty-five years
+ago?" asked Jenny, with scorn.
+
+"What is your own opinion?" was the counter question.
+
+"I believe that Jeringham was the murderer. Yes! Captain Larcher went in
+disguise to that ball, and learned the truth from the lips of his own
+wife. I believe she loved Jeringham. I believe he followed her home on
+that fatal night, urging her to fly. Then Captain Larcher appeared on
+the scene, and in the struggle that ensued he was killed. Jeringham
+fled, and Mrs. Larcher died. That, I am certain, is the true history of
+this crime."
+
+"You, then, think that Mrs. Larcher was privy to the murder?"
+
+"Oh, I don't say that!" said the girl, shrinking back; "it is impossible
+to say. But I have no right to talk to you about these matters, Mr.
+Tait. I have told you all I know. Let me pass, please."
+
+Tait bowed, and stood aside hat in hand. She flitted down the aisle, a
+slim girlish figure, and had arrived at the door when his voice arrested
+her.
+
+"One moment, Miss Paynton," he said, following her quickly.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Don't tell your father of this for twenty-four hours."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I want to prove to you that what I say is true. Hilliston will
+inform your father himself, and ask you to be silent."
+
+"It is too late for that now--unfortunately."
+
+"Why unfortunately? You should be glad to have strengthened the hands of
+justice. However, we need not speak of that now. Will you promise to
+withhold your confession for the time I ask?"
+
+"I promise nothing, Mr. Tait. Good-evening!"
+
+"But, Miss Paynton," he said, following her again, "you surely will not
+be so rash. You can have no idea how important these matters are to my
+friend. Mr. Hilliston is certain to inform your father within the next
+twenty-four hours, so surely you can give us that time to do what we
+can. I beg of you----"
+
+Jenny stopped irresolutely, and looked at Tait with a mixture of anger
+and doubt. The matter had now grown so intricate that she did not know
+what to do, what to say. She had not known Tait long enough to be guided
+by his advice, or to rely on his judgment; and her impulse was to tell
+her father and receive suggestions as to what was best to be done under
+the circumstances. Yet, she also mistrusted Hilliston, as his connection
+with the Horriston case seemed to her to be by no means as simple as had
+appeared at first sight. She was suspicious of him, and if he came over
+to Thurston especially to ask her to be silent, that would go a long way
+toward confirming her doubts. And then, after all, no harm could be done
+within the twenty-four hours, as afterward she could tell her father;
+thus, at once satisfying her conscience and her curiosity, she made the
+compromise.
+
+"Very well, Mr. Tait," she said gravely. "I promise to be silent for
+twenty-four hours."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+                            A NEW SUSPICION.
+
+
+SPENSER TAIT walked back to the Manor House with the pleasing conviction
+that he had passed a very profitable hour. He had warned Jenny about the
+probable movements of Hilliston, and thus had put her on her guard
+against that astute individual. Once an idea enters a woman's head, it
+is impossible to get it out again, and Tait, by half hinting a
+confirmation of Jenny's suspicions regarding the lawyer, had made her
+uneasily conscious that Hilliston was a man to be watched and reckoned
+with. If Hilliston fulfilled Tait's prophecy, the little man believed
+that Jenny would resent his interference, penetrate his motives, and
+thwart him, if possible. In spite of her denial that she thought him
+guilty, Tait could not but perceive that the reading of the case had not
+biased her in favor of the dead man's friend. Jenny believed that
+Jeringham had committed the crime, but, if Hilliston acted indiscreetly,
+it would not take much to induce her to alter that opinion. Tait
+chuckled as he thought of these things; for he had not only cut the
+ground from under Hilliston's feet by warning Jenny of his possible
+arrival, but had, as he truly thought, converted a passive spectator
+into an active enemy.
+
+Again, he had learned that it was the old servant who had informed the
+girl concerning the scarfpin episode. Kerry said that the man who owned
+the scarfpin was guilty; and Kerry knew to whom the scarfpin belonged.
+If he could only be induced to part with the information there might be
+some chance of solving the mystery; but Kerry's--or rather Denis
+Bantry's--past conduct and present attitude were so doubtful that it was
+difficult to know how he would act, even though he were driven into a
+corner. Tait had little doubt in his own mind that Kerry was the old
+servant of Captain Larcher, for no one but he knew the truth about the
+scarfpin. Nevertheless, he failed to understand why the man had changed
+his name, and why he was staying at Thorston as servant to a recluse
+like Paynton. Only a personal interview with him could settle these
+vexed questions, but Tait was of two opinions whether Kerry would be
+amenable to reason, and confess his reasons for such concealment.
+
+Thus thinking, and trying to come to some conclusion regarding the new
+aspect placed upon affairs by the conversation with Jenny, the little
+man arrived home, and learning that Claude was still in the garden, he
+went there to report the result of his interview, and discuss the
+situation. Larcher was leaning back in a comfortable garden chair, with
+an open book on his knee, but, instead of reading, he was staring with
+unseeing eyes into the fresh green of the tree above him. On hearing
+Tait's brisk step he hastily lowered his head with a flush, as though he
+had been caught doing something wrong, and grew still more confused when
+he saw his friend looking at him with a queer expression of amusement.
+
+"She is a pretty girl," said Tait significantly; "and I don't wonder you
+are thinking of her."
+
+"Thinking of who?" asked Claude merrily, at this reading of his
+thoughts. "Are you a mind reader?"
+
+"So far as you are concerned, I am. Knowing how easily influenced you
+are by the sight of a pretty face, I don't think I am far wrong in
+guessing that your thoughts were with Jenny Paynton."
+
+"Well, yes," replied Claude, with a frank laugh. "I do not deny it. The
+glimpse I caught of her as we drove past in the cart charmed me greatly.
+I have rarely seen a more sympathetic and piquant face."
+
+"Bah! You say that of every woman you meet. Your geese are always
+swans."
+
+"Jenny is, at all events!" said Larcher promptly; "and you cannot deny
+that; but I admire her exceedingly--that is, as a pretty woman. You see,
+I already call her Jenny in my own mind, but that is because you always
+talk of her by her Christian name. Now, Jenny is----"
+
+"My dear Don Juan," said Tait blandly; "don't you think we had better
+leave off these erotics and get to business. You must not indulge in the
+ideal to the exclusion of the real."
+
+"Oh, not that business!" sighed Larcher wearily. "I don't believe we'll
+do any good with it. The mystery of my father's death is likely to
+remain one to the end of time for all I can see. Every trace is
+obliterated by the snows of twenty-five years."
+
+"Not entirely, my friend. For instance, I have learned an important fact
+to-day."
+
+"From Miss Paynton?"
+
+"Yes. We had a long conversation, and she was considerably startled when
+she learned the object of your visit here."
+
+"Was it wise of you to tell her?"
+
+"Why, yes," returned Tait decidedly. "We can do nothing without her
+help, and that she will refuse to give us unless she learns the reason
+of our inquiries."
+
+"What is her opinion of the matter? The same as Linton's, I suppose?"
+
+"By no means. She thinks that Jeringham killed your father; but I am not
+altogether sure that she does not suspect Hilliston. After all, she may
+come round to Linton's opinion before long."
+
+"Did you tell her that we suspected Hilliston?" asked Claude anxiously.
+
+"Not directly. But I permitted myself to hint as much. However, I only
+aided the seed of suspicion to sprout, for it was already implanted in
+her mind. You look astonished, Claude, but recall to your recollection
+the report of that case, and you will see that Hilliston was far too
+much mixed up in the matter to be as ignorant as he pretended to be at
+the trial. According to his evidence he had not left the ballroom, and
+consequently could have known nothing of the tragedy which was then
+being enacted at The Laurels. Yet, he knows details which, so far as I
+can see, prove him to have been an eye-witness."
+
+Claude jumped to his feet, and began restlessly pacing up and down the
+gravel walk. He yet retained some belief in Hilliston, and was reluctant
+to think that one to whom he owed so much should be guilty of so foul a
+crime. It was true that certain circumstances looked black against him,
+but these were purely theoretical, and by no means founded on absolute
+facts. After due consideration Claude inclined to the belief that Tait
+was too easily satisfied of Hilliston's guilt, and was willing to accept
+any stray facts likely to confirm his theory. Thus biased he could not
+possibly look on the matter in a fair and equable manner. The wish was
+altogether too greatly father to the thought.
+
+"I don't think you give Hilliston a fair show, Tait," he said, stepping
+before his friend. "If he winks an eye you look on it as a sign of his
+guilt. My mother assured me solemnly that Hilliston was at the ball when
+the tragedy occurred."
+
+"Oh, in that case, I have nothing more to say," said Tait coldly.
+"Still," he added rather spitefully, "I should like to know why Mr.
+Hilliston is so anxious to keep the matter quiet."
+
+"Tait!" said Claude hoarsely, sitting down by his friend and seizing his
+arm; "do you know I have often asked myself that question, and I have
+found a reply thereto; the only reply of which I can think."
+
+He paused, and looked fearfully around; then wiped the sweat off his
+white face with a nervous gesture. Tait eyed him in amazement, and could
+not understand what had come over his usually self-possessed friend; but
+he had no time to speak, for Claude, with an irrepressible shiver,
+whispered in a low voice:
+
+"What if my mother should be guilty, after all? Ah, you may well look
+astonished, but that is the hideous doubt which has haunted me for days.
+My mother says she ran at my father with a dagger, but fainted before
+she struck him. What if she did not faint; if she really killed him, and
+Hilliston, knowing this, is trying to screen her, and trying to save me
+from knowing the truth?"
+
+"But, my dear fellow, the trial----"
+
+"Never mind the trial. We now know that Denis swore falsely when he
+asserted that my father was not in the house on that night. We know that
+he was in the house, and that my mother found him with Mona Bantry. Her
+jealousy might have carried her to greater lengths than she intended to
+go. Denis saved her at the trial by telling a lie; but we know the
+truth, and I cannot rid myself of a doubt, that she may be guilty. If
+so, in place of being an enemy, Hilliston is acting the part of a friend
+in placing obstacles in our way."
+
+Tait shook his head. "I do not believe Mrs. Bezel is guilty," he said
+quietly; "if she had been, she would certainly not have written to you,
+and thus forced Hilliston to show you the papers. Banish the thought
+from your heart, Claude. I am as certain as I sit here that your mother
+is innocent of the crime."
+
+"If I could only be certain!"
+
+"And why should you not be," exclaimed Tait vigorously. "An eye-witness
+could tell you the truth."
+
+"Where can I find an eye-witness?" cried Claude, with an impatient
+frown. "Mona Bantry and Jeringham have both fled; they are probably dead
+by this time. My mother denies that she struck the blow, and Hilliston,
+she says, was at the ball when the murder took place. Who can tell me
+the truth?"
+
+"Denis Bantry," said Tait quietly. "Listen to me, Claude. The episode of
+the garnet scarfpin, which to my mind is the clew to the assassin, is
+only known to your mother, to Hilliston, and to Denis Bantry. Now
+Hilliston denies that such a trinket exists; your mother insists that it
+was found on the bank of the river after the murder. The only person who
+can give the casting vote--who can arbitrate, so to speak--is Denis
+Bantry."
+
+"And where is Denis Bantry? Lost or dead, years ago."
+
+"Nothing of the sort, my friend. Denis Bantry is alive and in this
+neighborhood. Yes; Jenny Paynton admitted to me that the scarfpin
+episode was related to her by their old servant, Kerry. Therefore, it
+naturally follows that Kerry is Denis Bantry."
+
+"But why is he hiding here under another name?" said Larcher, after he
+had digested this piece of information, with a due display of
+astonishment.
+
+"That I cannot say. Unless," here Tait hesitated before uttering his
+opinion, "unless Denis Bantry is the guilty person."
+
+"But that is impossible; that is out of the question," said Claude
+decidedly. "He was devoted to my father, as you know. Why should he turn
+and kill him without a cause?"
+
+"Ah!" said Tait significantly; "what if he had a cause, and a very good
+one, to kill your father. Recall your mother's confession. She returned
+at three o'clock in the morning and found her husband alone with Mona,
+the sister of Denis. She accused Mona of being her husband's mistress,
+and the girl confessed her guilt, which your father evidently could not
+deny. Now what is more probable than that Denis, attracted by the high
+voices, should have followed your mother to the room. There he would
+hear the truth, probably while waiting at the door. What follows? With
+his impulsive Irish temperament he dashes in, hot to avenge the wrong
+done to his sister. The dagger dropped by your mother is at his feet; he
+picks it up and kills his master on the instant. Your mother, in a faint
+on the floor, knows nothing of what is going on, and brother and sister
+remove the body to the river, where they drop it in. Then Mona is sent
+away by Denis to hide her shame and evade awkward questions, while he
+remains."
+
+"But why should he remain?" interrupted Claude smartly. "Would it not
+have been wiser for him to fly?"
+
+"And so confess his guilt. No! He induces Jeringham to fly, with a
+threat of denouncing him as the murderer of Larcher. Jeringham is in
+such a dilemma that, seeing that all the evidence will be against him,
+he takes to flight. Thereupon Denis is able to save his mistress, and
+himself, by denying that Larcher came to the house on that night. Of
+course, this is all pure theory; still it is as circumstantial as the
+rest of the evidence we have in hand."
+
+But Claude was by no means inclined to agree with this last remark.
+"There are flaws in your argument," he said, after a few moments'
+reflection. "If Denis intended to deny that my father was in the house
+on that night, why should he induce Jeringham to fly?"
+
+"To make assurance doubly sure. No doubt he intended first to put the
+blame on Jeringham, but finding that Mrs. Larcher was likely to be
+accused, he made things safe for her by denying that his master returned
+on that evening. Only four people knew of the return; Mona, who fled,
+Mrs. Larcher, who held her tongue to save her neck; Denis, who swore
+falsely to serve his mistress; and Jeringham, who thought he might be
+accused of the crime."
+
+"But why wouldn't he have denounced Denis?"
+
+"He was doubtless ignorant that Denis was the criminal. You forget that
+Jeringham was in the garden, and knew nothing of what was taking place
+in the sitting room. Denis rushed out, and finding Jeringham may have
+told him that Mrs. Larcher had killed her husband on his account. The
+man, bewildered and shocked, yet sees that he is complicated in the case
+through his love for Mrs. Larcher; he guesses that owing to the gossip
+of the place he may be accused of the crime, and so does the wisest
+thing he could do,--the only thing he could do,--and seeks refuge in
+flight."
+
+"Then you think Denis is guilty?"
+
+"I can't say. As you see, I can make a strong case out against your
+mother, against Jeringham, against Denis. Yes, I could even make a case
+against Mona Bantry; but it is sole theory. Yet Denis must have some
+reason for hiding here under the name of 'Kerry,' and for keeping those
+papers found by Jenny which contained a report of the case. The case is
+strong against Hilliston, I admit, but is stronger against your father's
+own servant."
+
+"I don't think so," said Claude quietly. "If Denis had killed my father,
+he would not have told Jenny about the scarfpin."
+
+"Why not! The scarfpin may have belonged to Jeringham--to Hilliston. For
+his own safety--now that the case is recognized after so many years by a
+girl's rash action--Denis would not hesitate to blame them to save
+himself. Taking it all round," added Tait, with the air of one who has
+settled the question, "I think the conduct of Denis is very suspicious,
+and I would not be surprised if he turned out to be the guilty person."
+
+"But the acts of Hilliston?"
+
+Tait rubbed his head and looked vexed, for he was unable to give a
+direct answer. "Let us leave the matter alone for the present," he said
+crossly. "I am getting bewildered with all this talk. Only one person
+can tell the truth, and that is Kerry, alias Denis Bantry."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+                              THE RECLUSE.
+
+
+MEANWHILE Jenny was proceeding homeward in a rather unhappy state of
+mind. The conversation had left an unpleasant impression, and she was by
+no means sure what it would lead to. A hundred times did she wish that
+she had not meddled with the matter; but it was now too late for
+regrets, and she recognized that she must bear the burden of her
+wrong-doing. Though, indeed, she could see no reason to characterize her
+action by so harsh a name.
+
+"A bundle of old papers in a garret," she thought, walking quickly
+through the lane; "where was the harm in reading them? And, as they
+contained an interesting story, I fail to see where I acted wrongly in
+telling it to Frank. The Larcher affair can have nothing to do with
+papa, even though Kerry was so angry. I'll speak to Kerry, and ask him
+if I have done wrong."
+
+According to her promise she was determined to say nothing to her father
+for at least twenty-four hours, for she was curious to see if Mr.
+Hilliston would call to speak of the matter. If he did so, then would be
+the time to exculpate herself; but, pending such visit, she saw no
+reason why she should not consult with Kerry. He had expressed anger at
+her possession of the papers, so he, if anyone, would be able to explain
+if she had been rash. On Kerry's answer would depend the explanation due
+to her father.
+
+Thus thinking, she speedily arrived in a deep lane, at the end of which
+she turned into a white gate set in a rugged stone wall. Nut trees bent
+over this wall, dropping their fruit into the ruts of the road, and on
+the opposite side rose a steep green bank topped by blackberry bushes.
+This byway was little frequented, and here quiet constantly reigned,
+unbroken save by the voices of birds. It was a great place for
+nightingales, and many a summer evening did Jenny stand under the
+bending boughs listening to the warblings of those night singers. So
+bird-haunted was the spot that here, if anywhere, Keats might have
+composed his famous ode. Indeed, the road was known as Nightingale Lane,
+for obvious reasons.
+
+Passing through the gate, Jenny saw before her the little garden,
+odorous with homely cottage flowers--sweet-williams, delicate pea
+blossom, ruddy marigolds, and somber bushes of rosemary. A hawthorn
+hedge on the right divided the flowers from the kitchen garden; while to
+the left grew gnarled apple and pear trees, now white with bloom. A
+sprawling peach tree clung to the guarding wall of the lane, and beds of
+thyme and mignonette perfumed the still air. In the center of this
+sweetness was built the humble cottage of Ferdinand Paynton, a broad,
+low-roofed building, with whitewashed walls and quaint windows,
+diamond-paned and snowy curtained. Pots of flowers were set within, and
+under the eaves of the thatched roof twittered the darting swallows. One
+often sees such peaceful homesteads in the heart of England, breathing
+quiet and tranquillity. Rose Cottage, as it was called, from the
+prevailing flower in the garden, was worthy to be enshrined in a fairy
+tale.
+
+Here lived Ferdinand Paynton, with his only daughter, and two servants,
+male and female. The one was Kerry, a crabbed old Irishman, stanch as
+steel, and devoted to his master; the other a withered crone who was
+never seen without her bonnet, yet who bore the reputation of being an
+excellent cook, and an economical housekeeper. As Mr. Paynton was poor,
+and spent more than he could afford on books, Maria was very necessary
+to him, as she scraped and screwed with miserly care, yet withal gave
+him good meals, and kept the tiny house like a new pin. Kerry attended
+principally to the garden and the books; looked after Jenny, whom he was
+always scolding, and passed his leisure time in fishing in the Lax.
+
+Hot or cold, wet or fine, summer or winter, nothing varied in the
+routine of Rose Cottage. Mr. Paynton rose at nine, took his breakfast,
+and read his paper till ten, then walked for an hour or so in the garden
+with Jenny. Till luncheon he wrote; after luncheon he slept, and then
+wrote again till dinner time. The evening in summer was spent in the
+garden, in winter within doors, before a roaring fire in the bookroom.
+For more than twenty years life had gone on in this peaceful fashion,
+and during that time Jenny could not remember the occurrence of a single
+episode worth recording. Rose Cottage might have been the palace of the
+Sleeping Beauty during the hundred years' spell.
+
+The inhabitant of this hermitage was a puzzle to the gossips of
+Thorston, for, after the industrious inquiries of twenty years, they
+were as wise as ever touching his antecedents. Then he had arrived with
+Kerry, and his daughter, a child of five, and, staying at the Inn of St.
+Elfrida, had looked about for a small place in the neighborhood. Rose
+Cottage, then empty and much neglected, appeared to be the most secluded
+spot procurable, so Mr. Paynton set it in order, patched the roof,
+cultivated the garden, and took up his abode therein. Here he had lived
+ever since, rarely leaving it, seeing few people, and accepting no
+invitations. The man was a recluse, and disliked his fellow-creatures,
+so when Thorston became aware of his peculiarities he was left alone to
+live as he chose. It may be guessed that his peculiar habits made him
+unpopular.
+
+The vicar was friendly to the misanthrope, for in Paynton he found a
+kindred soul in the matter of books; and many a pleasant evening did
+they spend in discussing literary subjects. The bookroom was the
+pleasantest apartment in the house, cosy and warm, and lined throughout
+with volumes. In the deep window stood the desk, and here Ferdinand
+Paynton sat and wrote all day, save when he took his usual stroll in the
+garden. Jenny had also grown up in the bookroom, and, as her education
+had been conducted by her father, she was remarkably intelligent for a
+country maiden, and could talk excellently on literature, old and new.
+For the softer graces of womanhood she was indebted to the care of Mrs.
+Linton, who from the first had taken a great interest in the motherless
+girl.
+
+Into this room came Jenny, with her mind full of the recent conversation
+with Tait. She threw down her music-book on the table and went to kiss
+her father. He was seated in his armchair, instead of at his desk as
+usual, and looked rather sternly at her as she bent over him. Tall and
+white-haired, with a sad face and a slim figure, the old man looked
+singularly interesting, his appearance being enhanced by his peculiar
+garb, a dressing gown and a black skullcap. Indeed, he was more like a
+mediæval magician than an aged gentleman of the nineteenth century. He
+looked like a man with a history, which was doubtless the reason
+Thorston gossips were so anxious concerning his past. In country towns
+curiosity is quite a disease.
+
+In the hurry of her entrance Jenny had not noticed that a stranger was
+present, but on greeting her father with a fond kiss, she turned to see
+an elderly gentleman looking at her intently. Mr. Paynton explained the
+presence of the stranger with less than his usual suavity, but from the
+tone of his voice Jenny guessed that he was angry with her. As it
+afterward appeared he had good reason to be.
+
+"Jenny, this is my friend, Mr. Hilliston."
+
+Hilliston! Jenny could not suppress a start of surprise, even of alarm.
+The prophecy of Tait had been fulfilled sooner than she had expected.
+There was something uncanny in the speedy accomplishment of a
+prognostication in which, at the time, she had hardly believed.
+
+"Hilliston! Mr. Hilliston!" she repeated, with a gasp of surprise,
+"already!"
+
+This time it was Hilliston's turn to be surprised, and his face darkened
+with suspicion.
+
+"What am I to understand by 'already,' Miss Paynton?" he said quickly.
+
+"Why! That is--Mr. Tait----" began Jenny, in excuse, when her father cut
+her short. He rose from his chair, and exclaimed in a voice of alarm:
+
+"Tait! Then you have seen him already?"
+
+"Yes, father," said the girl, in some bewilderment at his tone.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In the church, half an hour ago."
+
+"Did he question you?"
+
+"He did."
+
+"And you replied?"
+
+"I answered his questions," said Jenny quietly, "if you refer to the
+Larcher affair."
+
+"I do refer to it," groaned her father, sinking back into his chair.
+"Unhappy girl! you know not what trouble you have caused."
+
+Hilliston said nothing, but stood moodily considering what was best to
+be done. He saw that Tait had been too clever for him, and had
+anticipated his arrival. Yet he had come as speedily as possible; not a
+moment had he lost since his arrival in Eastbourne to seek out Jenny and
+ask her to be silent. But it was too late; he had missed his opportunity
+by a few minutes, and it only remained for him to learn how much the
+girl had told his enemy. No wonder he hated Tait; the fellow was too
+dangerous a foeman to be despised.
+
+"We may yet mend matters," he said judiciously, "if Miss Jenny will
+repeat so much of the conversation as she remembers."
+
+"Why should I repeat it?" said Jenny, objecting to this interference, as
+Tait guessed she would. "There was nothing wrong in the conversation
+with Mr. Tait that I know of."
+
+"There was nothing wrong in your telling Linton the story you found in
+_The Canterbury Observer_," replied Hilliston dryly; "yet it would have
+been as well had you not done so."
+
+"Father," cried Jenny, turning toward the old man with an appealing
+gesture, "have I done wrong?"
+
+"Yes, child," he answered, with a sigh, "very wrong, but you sinned in
+ignorance. Kerry told me you had found the bundle and read about the
+trial, but I passed that over. Now it is different. You repeated it to
+young Linton, and Mr. Hilliston tells me that all London knows the story
+through his book."
+
+"I am very sorry," said Jenny, after a pause, "but I really did not know
+that it was wrong of me to act as I have done. A bundle of old
+newspapers in a garret! Surely I was justified in reading them--in
+telling Frank what I conceived would be a good plot for a story."
+
+"I don't blame you, Miss Paynton," said Hilliston kindly; "but it so
+happens that your father did not want that affair again brought before
+the public. After all, you have had less to do with it than Fate."
+
+"Than Fate," interrupted Paynton, with a groan. "Good Heavens, am I to
+be----"
+
+"Paynton!" said Hilliston, in a warning voice.
+
+"I forgot," muttered the old man, with a shiver. "No more--no more.
+Jenny, tell us what you said to Mr. Tait."
+
+Considerably astonished, the girl repeated the conversation as closely
+as she could remember. Both Hilliston and her father listened with the
+keenest interest, and seemed relieved when she finished.
+
+"It is not so bad as I expected," said the former, with a nod. "All you
+have to do, Paynton, is to warn Kerry against gratifying the curiosity
+of these young men. They will be certain to ask him questions."
+
+"Kerry will baffle them; have no fear of that," said Paynton harshly,
+"and, Jenny, you are not to refer to this subject again with Mr. Tait."
+
+"Am I not to speak to him?"
+
+Her father interrogated Hilliston with a look, received a nod, and
+answered accordingly.
+
+"You can speak to Mr. Tait, if you choose, and no doubt you will be
+introduced by the vicar to Mr. Larcher. I place no prohibition on your
+speaking to them, but only warn you to avoid the subject of the Larcher
+affair. Promise!"
+
+"I promise. I am sorry I ever had anything to do with it."
+
+"Say no more about it, my dear," said Hilliston, patting her shoulder.
+"How could you be expected to know? But now you have been warned, do not
+speak more of it. We do not wish the unjustifiable curiosity of these
+idle young men to be gratified."
+
+"If you assist them to learn that which had better be hidden, you will
+ruin me," cried Paynton, with a passionate gesture.
+
+"Father! Ruin you?"
+
+"Yes! It means ruin, disgrace--perhaps death! Ah!"
+
+He broke down with a cry, and Hilliston, taking Jenny by the hand, led
+her to the door.
+
+"Go away, my dear. Your father is ill," he said, in a whisper, and
+pushing her outside the door, locked it forthwith. Jenny stood in the
+passage, in an agony of fear and surprise. Ruin! Disgrace! Death! What
+was the meaning of those terrible words?
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+                            AN OLD SERVANT.
+
+
+LEAVING the two men to talk over their dark secrets together, Jenny went
+into the garden. Her brow burned as with fever, and her understanding
+was confused by the thoughts which filled her mind. What was the meaning
+of her father's words? Why had Mr. Hilliston come over from Eastbourne
+to request her silence? And what was the connection between him and her
+sole surviving parent? She paced up and down the gravel walk vainly
+asking herself these questions, and racking her brain as to possible
+answers. Hitherto the sky of her young life had been pure and serene;
+but now, by her own act--as though she had unconsciously wrought a
+malignant spell--a sudden storm had arisen, which threatened to overturn
+the foundations of her small world. In the very unexpectedness of these
+events lay their terror.
+
+As Tait shrewdly surmised, Jenny was by no means satisfied with the
+evidence of Hilliston at the trial of Mrs. Larcher. So far as she could
+judge from the unsatisfactory report in _The Canterbury Observer_, he
+had given his version of the affair glibly enough; yet there seemed to
+be something behind which he was anxious to suppress. Definitely enough
+he stated that he had not been at The Laurels on the fatal night; that
+he had not seen Captain Larcher since he left for London; that he had
+not noted whether Mrs. Larcher wore that all-important dagger when she
+left the ballroom. But, pressed by an evidently suspicious counsel, he
+accounted so minutely for every moment of his time, his evidence had
+about it such an air of frank falseness, that even unsophisticated Jenny
+saw that the man was acting a part. She did not believe him guilty of
+the crime, but she was certain in her own mind that he knew who had
+struck the fatal blow; nay more, Jenny thought it not impossible that he
+had been at The Laurels after three that morning, in spite of his
+denial, and had seen the tragedy take place. Tait's hints, confirming
+her own doubts, led her to gravely doubt the purity of Mr. Hilliston's
+motives then and now.
+
+But what most perplexed the girl was the reason why the lawyer called to
+see her father on the subject and requested her silence. She knew
+nothing of the tragedy save through the papers--those old, faded papers,
+dated 1866, which she had found in the garret. She was not born when the
+murder took place, so Hilliston could not possibly wish to close her
+mouth for her own sake. It was on her father's account that Jenny
+feared. What could he know of an obscure crime perpetrated in a country
+town so many years ago; she could recall no mention of his name in the
+report of the trial; yet his words led her to suspect that he was more
+closely connected with that tragic past than he chose to admit. Could it
+be that her father was a relative of Jeringham, and, knowing that
+Jeringham was still alive, wished to stop all inquiries made as to his
+whereabouts, lest he should be punished for his early sin? This was the
+only feasible suggestion she could make, and yet it failed to satisfy
+her too exacting mind.
+
+Again, there was Kerry. Kerry certainly had a personal interest in the
+case; else he could scarcely have related the episode of the scarfpin.
+Moreover, he had been very angry when he found her with the papers in
+her possession; and putting these two things together it would seem as
+if he knew more than he chose to tell. Jenny thought, for the
+gratification of her own curiosity, she would ask Kerry to explain these
+matters; and so went to the kitchen in search of him. Maria was there,
+cross and deaf as usual, and intimated that Kerry had been out some two
+hours on a message. This sounded extraordinary to Jenny, who knew that
+the old servant rarely left the house; but it argued that her father was
+anxious to have him out of the way during the visit of Hilliston. What
+did it all mean? A horrible fear seized the girl, lest she should have
+set some machinery in motion which would end in crushing her unhappy
+father. Unhappy he had always been, and given to seclusion. There must
+be some reason for this, and Jenny felt a vague alarm, which she could
+neither express nor display. Dearly enough had she paid for meddling
+with that old bundle of papers.
+
+Again she returned to the garden, and went outside into the lane in
+order to see if Kerry was in sight. In a few minutes he came shuffling
+round the corner, and his withered face relaxed into a grin when he saw
+her standing by the gate. She was the apple of his eye, and though he
+scolded her often himself, yet he never let anyone say a word against
+her. To look askance at Jenny was to lose Kerry's favor and win his
+enmity forever.
+
+"Ah! there ye are, me darling Miss Jenny," he said, with the familiarity
+of an old servant, "watching and waiting for poor old Kerry. Sure it is
+a sunbeam you are in this dark lane."
+
+"Kerry! I want to speak to you."
+
+The change in her tone struck him at once, and he peered sharply into
+her fresh face with his bleared eyes. A look of wonder stole into them
+at the sight of her white cheeks, and he crossed himself before replying
+so as to avert any evil that might befall. Kerry always lived in a state
+of suspense, waiting for a bolt from the blue. Jenny's scared face
+almost assured him that it had fallen.
+
+"What is it, _alannah_?" he asked, pausing at the gate. "Is anything
+wrong?"
+
+"Oh, no! nothing is wrong, Kerry! What could be wrong?" said Jenny
+nervously; "only papa has a visitor."
+
+"Augh! His riverence?"
+
+"No; not the vicar. A stranger--or at least almost a stranger," she
+said, half to herself. "It is many years since Mr. Hilliston came here."
+
+"Mr. Hilliston!" cried Kerry, with an ashen face. "The black curse on
+him and his! What is he doing with the master?"
+
+"I don't know, Kerry," replied Jenny, rather astonished at the old man's
+vehemence; "he has been with father over two hours."
+
+"And I was sent away," muttered Kerry, under his breath. "Sorrow befall
+you, black attorney that you are. Never did you cross a threshold
+without bringing grief to all hearts. It was an evil day we saw you, and
+an evil day when we see you again."
+
+He uplifted his hands as though about to invoke a curse on Hilliston,
+then, unexpectedly letting them fall, he turned sharply on Jenny.
+
+"How did he come, miss?"
+
+"By train from Eastbourne--no doubt he walked from the station."
+
+"I'll drive him back," exclaimed Kerry, in quite an amiable voice. "Sure
+he'll be weary on his legs. Why not? I'll borrow his riverence's trap
+and the little mare with the white foreleg, but----"
+
+"Kerry, father might not like it."
+
+"Get along with ye," said Kerry cheerfully; "sure his riverence has
+offered the trap a hundred times. I'll take it on myself to explain to
+the master. Keep Mr. Hilliston here till he sees me arriving up this
+road--a dirty one it is, too, bad cess to it!"
+
+He was hurrying off, when Jenny stopped him. She saw that his borrowing
+of the vicar's honey trap was a mere excuse to get Hilliston to himself
+for half an hour, and, rendered more curious than ever by Kerry's artful
+way of arranging matters, she ran after him and pulled his sleeve.
+
+"Kerry! Kerry! Has Mr. Hilliston come over to see papa about the Larcher
+affair?"
+
+"How should I know," retorted Kerry, relapsing into his crusty humor;
+"for shame, Miss Jenny! Is it your business or mine?"
+
+"It is mine," said the girl, with a resolute look on her face. "Mr.
+Hilliston came over to ask me to be silent about what was contained in
+those papers you took from me."
+
+"How does he know of that, miss?"
+
+"Because all London now knows the story of the Larcher affair."
+
+"Augh! Get away with ye. Sure it's a fool you're making of old Kerry,"
+said the servant, in an incredulous and angry tone.
+
+"Indeed, I am doing no such thing. I did not know there was any harm in
+reading those papers, and I did so. But I did more than that, Kerry. I
+told the story of the tragedy to Frank Linton; and he has written a book
+on the trial."
+
+"A book! With the real names?"
+
+"No! The names are fictitious, and the scene is laid in a different
+place. But the whole story is told in the novel."
+
+"Does the master know?" asked Kerry, muttering something between his
+teeth.
+
+"He does now. Mr. Hilliston saw the book in London, and came over to
+tell him, and to ask me to say no more about it."
+
+"What's that for, anyhow," demanded Kerry, who seemed to scent new
+danger.
+
+"Because Mr. Larcher is here!"
+
+Kerry flung up his hands with a cry of astonishment. "Mr. Larcher, miss!
+Who are you telling about?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Claude Larcher," said Jenny, rather alarmed, for he had gripped
+her arm, "the son of the deceased man. He is staying at the Manor House
+with Mr. Tait."
+
+For a few minutes Kerry stood looking at the ground in silence. Up to
+the present he had succeeded in preserving his calm, but the last piece
+of news upset him altogether, and he burst into violent speech.
+
+"Augh! it's sorrow that is coming to this house, and the black curse
+will be on the threshold. Cold will the hearth be soon, and the old
+master will be driven out. Ohone! and we and time will have sent him
+into the cold world. Whirra! whirra!"
+
+Jenny was so dumfounded by the unexpected eloquence of the old man that
+she could do nothing but stare at him. He caught her eye, and seeing
+that he had been indiscreet in so betraying himself, he cut short his
+lamentations, wiped his eyes, and relapsed once more into the crusty,
+faithful Kerry whom she knew. But he gave her a word of warning before
+he took his departure. "Say nothing of this, Miss Jenny," he remarked;
+"sure it's an old fool I am. Keep a silent tongue as the master and
+lawyer wishes you to do, and then, please the saints, things will go the
+better."
+
+"But, Kerry, before you go, tell me. What is Mr. Hilliston to my
+father?"
+
+"He is your father's best friend, miss," said Kerry, with emphasis; "his
+best and his worst," and with that enigmatic reply he hurried off down
+the lane in the direction of the vicarage, leaving Jenny in a state of
+bewilderment.
+
+She could understand nothing, and at that moment sorely needed some
+friend with whom she could consult. Kerry gave her no satisfaction, and
+spoke so indefinitely that his conversation mystified in place of
+enlightening her; it was no use to make a confidant of Frank Linton, as
+notwithstanding his London reputation, which she had greatly contributed
+to, Jenny did not consider him sufficiently steady to be told of the
+commotion raised by his novel in her immediate circle. She could,
+therefore, discuss the matter with no one, and so annoyed was she by the
+whole affair that she by no means could bring herself to go back to the
+house while Hilliston was yet there. He would be gone, she trusted, in
+another half hour or so, and pending his departure she strolled along
+the lane in the hope of evading him.
+
+But she only escaped Scylla to fall into Charybdis, for, as she turned
+the corner, Tait and Claude met her almost face to face. Jenny would
+have given much to escape this awkward meeting, and intimated her wish
+for solitude by passing the young men with a curt bow. The sight of
+Claude, the memory of his father's death, coupled with the suspicions
+she entertained, wrought her up to a pitch of excitement which she had
+great difficulty in concealing. She was, therefore, greatly annoyed when
+Tait took off his hat, and placed himself directly in her path. The
+little man thought it was too favorable an opportunity for introduction
+to be overlooked.
+
+"Don't go away, Miss Paynton," he said, smiling. "I wish to introduce
+you to my friend Mr. Larcher. Claude, this is Miss Paynton, of whom you
+have heard me speak."
+
+"How do you do, Miss Paynton?" said Claude, with a suave bow. "I hope
+you will pardon the irregularity of this introduction."
+
+This remark made Jenny laugh, and set her more at ease. She was not
+particular as to forms and ceremonies herself, and the idea that a young
+man should apologize for such a trifle struck her as ridiculous.
+Moreover, a glance assured her that Mr. Larcher was by no means a
+formidable person. He was decidedly good-looking, and had pleasant blue
+eyes, with a kindly look, so speech and glance broke the ice at once
+between them.
+
+"Do you stay here long, Mr. Larcher?" she asked, pointedly ignoring her
+previous conversation with Tait.
+
+"As long as I may," he replied, smiling. "London does not invite me at
+this time of the year. I prefer the fragrant country to the dusty town."
+
+"He is a true lover of the fields, Miss Paynton," broke in Tait,
+admiring her self-possession, "and insisted that I should come out for a
+walk, so that he might lose no time in steeping himself in the sweetness
+of nature. Quite idyllic, isn't it?"
+
+"Quite!" said Jenny lightly. "Good-by at present, Mr. Larcher! I am
+going to the vicarage, and have not a moment to spare. Mr. Tait, can I
+speak with you a minute?"
+
+Tait obeyed with alacrity, and Claude was left to muse on the fresh
+charm of Jenny, and the sweetness of her voice. Her trim figure, her
+exquisite neatness, and springing gait made him admire her greatly, and
+when she tripped away with a smiling nod, he was so taken up in watching
+her that he failed to observe the grave face with which Tait joined him.
+
+"As I thought," said the latter, when they resumed their walk.
+
+"What is up now?"
+
+"Oh, nothing more than usual! Hilliston has called on Paynton already.
+He is there now."
+
+"You don't say so! I did not think he would have been so smart. However,
+you have stolen a march on him. Do you intend to see him now? To wait
+his coming out?"
+
+"Why, no," said Tait, after a moment's deliberation. "Rather let us go
+home again that Hilliston may not see us. I wish to wait and see what
+excuse he will make for not calling on you. You'll get a letter full of
+lies to-morrow, Claude."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+                         A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST.
+
+
+HILLISTON remained a considerable time with his friend, and it was not
+until sunset that he left the house. He had a satisfied look on his
+face, as though the interview had answered his expectations; and so
+lifted up in spirit did he appear that he stepped out into the lane as
+jauntily as though he were quite a young man. It was over three miles to
+the railway station, and he would be obliged to walk back; but the
+prospect did not annoy him in the least; on the contrary so great a load
+had been removed from his mind by the late conversation that he felt fit
+to walk twice the distance. Yet such unusual light-heartedness might
+have recalled to his mind the Scotch superstition regarding its probable
+reason.
+
+As he walked smartly to the end of the lane, the sun had just dropped
+behind the hills, leaving a trail of red glory behind him. Against the
+crimson background rose the gables and chimney of the Manor House, and
+the sight recalled to Hilliston the fact that young Larcher was staying
+in the mansion. He paused doubtfully, not certain whether to go in or
+pass on; for in his many schemes the least slip might prove prejudicial
+to their accomplishment.
+
+"If I call in I can say my visit here was to do so," he thought; "but it
+is too late; and though Claude might believe me, the little man would
+certainly be suspicious. Besides they are sure to find out from Jenny
+Paynton that I have seen her father. No! I shan't go in, but to-night I
+will write a letter stating that Paynton is a client whom I called to
+see about business. I have made it all right there, and it will take a
+cleverer man than Tait to upset my plans this time."
+
+His meditations were interrupted by the rattle of wheels, and he turned
+to see Kerry driving a dappled pony in a small chaise. The old man
+distorted his withered face into a grotesque grin of welcome, and jumped
+out with extraordinary alacrity, when he came alongside Hilliston.
+
+"Augh! augh, sir!" said Kerry, touching his hat in military fashion.
+"It's a sight for sore eyes to see ye. Miss Jenny told me you had walked
+over from the station, so I just borrowed the trap of his riverence, the
+vicar, to take you back."
+
+"That is very kind of you, Kerry," replied Hilliston, in his most genial
+manner; "I am glad to accept your offer and escape the walk. You drive
+and I'll sit beside you."
+
+Kerry did as he was told, and in a few minutes the trap containing the
+pair was rattling through the street at a good pace. Shortly they left
+the village behind and emerged into the open country. The road wound to
+right and left, past farmhouses, under bending trees, behind hedgerows,
+and occasionally passed over a stone bridge spanning a trickling brook
+matted with cresses. All this time neither of them had spoken, as each
+was seemingly wrapped up in his own thoughts, but as a matter of fact
+they were thinking of each other. Kerry wished to speak to Hilliston,
+but did not know how to begin; while Hilliston was in the same
+predicament regarding Kerry.
+
+It was the latter who finally began the conversation, and he did so in a
+way which would have startled a less brave man than the lawyer. At the
+moment they were crossing a rather broad stream with a swift current,
+and Kerry pulled up the pony midway between the parapets of stone which
+protected the sides of the rude bridge. Rather astonished at this
+stoppage, for which he could assign no reason, Hilliston roused himself
+from his musings and looked inquiringly at Kerry. The man's eyes,
+significant and angry, were fixed on him in anything but a friendly
+manner.
+
+"Do you know what I'm thinking, sir?" he said, coolly flicking the
+pony's back with the whip.
+
+"No, Kerry," replied Hilliston, with equal coolness. "Is it of anything
+important?"
+
+"It might be to you, sir," replied Kerry dryly. "I was just thinking
+whether it wouldn't be a good thing to send horse and trap and you and I
+into the water. Then there would be an end to your black heart and your
+black schemes."
+
+"That is very possible, Kerry," said Hilliston, who knew his man, "but
+before going to extremities you had better make certain that you are
+acting for the best. Without me your master is ruined."
+
+"We'll talk it over, sir," answered Kerry, and with a smart flick of his
+whip sent the pony across the bridge. When they were over and were
+trotting between hedgerows he resumed the conversation. "Why have ye
+come here again, sir?" he asked abruptly. "We were quit of you five
+years ago, and now you come to harry the master once more."
+
+"I come for his own good, Kerry."
+
+"Ah, now don't be after calling me Kerry. There's no one here, and it is
+Denis Bantry I am to you, Mr. Francis Hilliston."
+
+The lawyer winced at the satirical emphasis placed on the name, but
+judged it wise to humor the old man. Kerry, as he called himself now,
+could be very obstinate and disagreeable when he chose, so knowing his
+powers in this respect Hilliston wisely conducted the conversation on as
+broad lines as was possible. Nevertheless, he carried the war into the
+enemy's camp by blaming Kerry for not taking better care of the bundle
+of papers which, through his negligence, had fallen into the hands of
+Jenny.
+
+"And how was I to know, sir?" retorted Kerry querulously. "The papers
+were safely put away in the garret, and Miss Jenny had no call to go
+there."
+
+"Well, Kerry, you see what it has led to. The account of the tragedy is
+all over London."
+
+"And what of that, sir? Wasn't the account of it all over Horriston
+twenty-five years ago?"
+
+"No doubt," said Hilliston coolly; "but that is all over and done with.
+It is useless to dwell on the past and its errors. But now Captain
+Larcher's son is bent on finding out the truth."
+
+"And why shouldn't he, sir?"
+
+"I don't think you need ask the question, Kerry," replied the lawyer, in
+so significant a tone that the old servant turned away his head. "It is
+not desirable that Claude Larcher should be enlightened. We know what
+took place on that night if no one else does, and for more reasons than
+one it is advisable that we should keep our knowledge to ourselves."
+
+"Augh," said Kerry gruffly, "you don't want it known that you were in
+the garden on that night, sir?"
+
+"I do not," answered Hilliston, with hasty emphasis. "I spoke falsely at
+the trial to save Mrs. Larcher. I rather think you did so yourself,
+Kerry."
+
+"For the master's sake--for the master's sake! As for the mistress she
+brought all the trouble on our heads. I lied, sir, and you lied, but she
+wasn't worth it. But is there to be trouble over it now, Mr. Hilliston?"
+
+"No. Not if you baffle the inquiries of those young men at the Manor
+House. They will meet you and question you, and get the truth out of you
+if they can. Whether they do or not all depends upon yourself."
+
+"You leave it to me, sir," said Kerry confidently. "I'll manage to send
+them away without being a bit the wiser. And now, Mr. Hilliston, that
+this is settled, I would speak to you about my sister Mona."
+
+Hilliston changed color, but nevertheless retained sufficient composure
+to fix his eyes on the man's face with a sad smile. "What of her,
+Kerry?" he asked, in a melancholy tone; "you know she is dead and gone."
+
+"Augh! Augh! But her grave, sir. You must tell me where it is, for I
+have it in my mind to go and see it."
+
+"What would be the good of you doing that," said Hilliston
+disapprovingly.
+
+"Because I was harsh with her, sir. If she did wrong, she suffered for
+it, and it was wicked of me to let her go as I did. Where is her grave,
+sir?"
+
+"In Chiswick Cemetery," said Hilliston, as the chaise stopped at the
+railway station; "if you come up to London and call at my office I will
+tell you where to find it."
+
+Kerry was profuse in his thanks, and, touching his hat gratefully,
+accepted the shilling which Hilliston put into his hand; but when the
+train containing Hilliston started for Eastbourne, he threw away the
+money, and shook his fist after the retreating carriages. Not a word did
+he say, but the frown on his face grew deeper and deeper as he got into
+the trap again, and drove slowly back to Thorston. Evidently he trusted
+Hilliston no more than did Tait or Jenny.
+
+It was now quite dark, for the daylight and afterglow had long since
+vanished from the western skies, and the moon was not yet up. Only the
+stars were visible here and there in the cloudy sky, and finding their
+light insufficient to drive by, Kerry got down and lighted the carriage
+lamp. Heaven only knows of what he was thinking as he drove along the
+dusky lanes. The past unrolled itself before his eyes, and what he saw
+there made him groan and heave deep sighs. But there was no use in so
+indulging his memories, and thinking of his master, Kerry braced himself
+up to see what could be done toward meeting the dangers which seemed to
+threaten on all sides. When he delivered the trap again to the groom of
+the vicar, he hit on an idea which he proceeded to carry out.
+
+Instead of going back at once to Rose Cottage, he borrowed a piece of
+paper and a pencil from the groom, and laboriously traced a few lines by
+the light of the stable lantern. Putting this missive in his pocket, he
+went off in the direction of the Manor House; but leaving the public
+road he skirted the low stone wall which divided it from the adjacent
+fields. Kerry knew every inch of the ground, and even in the darkness
+had no difficulty in guiding himself to his destination. This was a
+vantage point at the end of the wall, whence he could see into a sitting
+room of the house. In a few minutes Kerry was perched on this wall,
+busily engaged in tying his letter to an ordinary sized stone.
+
+Almost immediately below him the mansion stretched in a kind of abrupt
+right angle, in which was set two wide windows overlooking a bed of
+flowers. These were open to the cool night air, and the blinds had been
+drawn down, so that Kerry from his lofty hiding-place could see right
+into the room. A tall brass lamp stood at one end, and under this sat
+Claude Larcher, smoking and thinking. The glare of the lamp fell full on
+his fresh-colored face and light hair, so that Kerry felt as though he
+were gazing at a phantom out of that dread past.
+
+"He's as like his father as two peas," muttered Kerry, devouring the
+picture with his eyes; "a fine boy and an honest gentleman. Augh! augh!
+To think that I have nursed him on my knee when he was a bit of lad, and
+now I'm here telling him to go away. But it's better that than the
+other. A curse on those who brought him here and put sorrow into his
+heart."
+
+Thus muttering, Kerry threw the stone lightly through the window. It
+fell heavily on the floor within a few feet of Claude, who sprang to his
+feet with an exclamation. Not waiting to see the result, Kerry hastily
+tumbled off the wall, jumped the ditch, and made off in the darkness. By
+a circuitous route he regained Rose Cottage, and entered into the
+kitchen worn out in body and mind. He had done his duty so far as in him
+lay, and mentally prayed that the result might tend to remove the
+threatened danger.
+
+Meanwhile Claude had picked up the stone and ran to the window. He could
+see nothing, for Kerry was already halfway across the fields; he could
+not even guess whence the stone had been thrown. All was silent, and
+though he listened intently, he could not hear the sound of retreating
+footsteps. With some wonderment he untied the paper from the stone and
+smoothed it out. It was badly written and badly spelled, and ran as
+follows:
+
+    "Bewar of danger, Claude Larcher, tak a frind's advise and go
+    quick away."
+
+There was no signature, and the young man was looking at it in growing
+perplexity when Tait entered the room.
+
+"What did you shout out about?" he asked carelessly. "I heard you in the
+next room."
+
+"You would have shouted also," replied Larcher, holding out the paper.
+"This was flung into the room tied round a stone."
+
+"You don't say so! Who threw it?"
+
+"I can't say. I rushed to the window at once, but saw no sign of anyone.
+What do you think of the hint therein contained?"
+
+Tait read the anonymous communication, pondered over it, and finally
+delivered his opinion by uttering a name. "Hilliston," he said
+confidently, "Hilliston."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Claude sharply; "why should he deal in underhand ways
+of this sort. If he wanted me to go away, he could have called and urged
+me to do so. But this--I don't believe Hilliston would condescend to
+such trickery."
+
+"When a man is in a fix he will descend to anything to get himself out
+of it," replied Tait, placing the paper in his pocketbook. "I'll keep
+this, and, perhaps, before many days are over I'll have an opportunity
+of proving to you that I speak truly. Who else wants you to go away
+besides Hilliston."
+
+"Kerry--Denis Bantry might!"
+
+"I doubt whether Kerry knows that you are here. You must give matters
+time to develop themselves, as the inmates of Rose Cottage can't know
+all about us within twenty-four hours."
+
+"What between your confessions to Jenny, and Hilliston's own knowledge,
+I think they'll know a good deal in one way or another."
+
+"They can know as much as they like," said Tait quietly, "but we know
+more, and if it comes to a tug of war I think you and I can win against
+Hilliston and Co. But come outside and let us examine the top of the
+wall."
+
+"Do you think the stone was thrown from there?" asked Claude, as they
+went out into the garden.
+
+"I fancy so from your description. Light this candle."
+
+The night was so still that the flame of the candle hardly wavered. Tait
+gave it to Claude to hold, and easily climbed up the wall by thrusting
+the toes of his boots in among the loose stones. He examined the top
+carefully, and then getting the light tied it to a piece of string and
+lowered it on the other side. In a few minutes he came down again with a
+satisfied look.
+
+"As I thought," he said, blowing out the candle. "Someone has been on
+that wall and thrown the stone from there. I saw the marks of feet on
+the other side. The man who delivered the letter jumped the ditch and
+made off across the fields."
+
+"You don't think it is Hilliston?" said Claude doubtfully.
+
+"No; but I think it is an emissary of Hilliston. Perhaps Denis Bantry."
+
+"Tait!" said Larcher, after a pause, "from Hilliston's visit to Paynton,
+from the way in which Paynton persistently secludes himself from the
+world; and from the knowledge we possess that the information for
+Linton's book came out of that cottage, I have come to a conclusion."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"I believe that Ferdinand Paynton is none other than Mark Jeringham, who
+killed my father."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+                         PREPARING THE GROUND.
+
+
+AWARE that Claude would hear sooner or later of his visit to Paynton,
+the lawyer wrote to forestall the information, skillfully alleging a
+business engagement as his excuse for the visit. "I would have called on
+you," he continued, "but that it was already late when I left my client,
+Mr. Paynton, and I had to return to Eastbourne in time for dinner.
+However, I hope to come over again shortly, and then you must tell me
+how you are getting on with your case. I am afraid you will learn
+nothing at Thorston."
+
+"He knows better than that," said Tait, to whom the letter was shown;
+"he is aware that we have cut the ground from under his feet so far as
+Jenny is concerned. Moreover, I am certain that he is the author of that
+anonymous letter of a few days since."
+
+"Do you really think he came here to ask Miss Paynton to keep silence?"
+asked Claude, returning the letter to his pocket.
+
+"My dear fellow, I am certain of it. And he also wishes to show us that
+he knows Paynton, so as to warn us against asking questions in that
+quarter."
+
+"Indeed, I think it is useless to do so," said Larcher doubtfully; "you
+know we called yesterday and were refused admittance."
+
+"Oh, I spoke to Mr. Linton about that," replied Tait easily; "it seems
+that such is invariably the case, as this hermit will see no one."
+
+"Why? What can be his reason for such persistent seclusion?"
+
+"I can't say, unless your surmise is correct, and he is Jeringham."
+
+"I am sure he is," said Claude emphatically. "Why was the bundle of
+newspapers containing an account of the murder found in his house? What
+is Denis Bantry doing there if Paynton is not Jeringham?"
+
+"The shoe is on the other foot," remarked Tait dryly. "What is Denis
+Bantry doing there if Paynton is Jeringham? You forget, Claude, that we
+suspect Jeringham as the criminal. If this were so, or if Paynton were
+Jeringham, I hardly think your father's devoted servant would be at his
+beck and call, unless," added Tait, as an after thought, "Denis Bantry
+is also implicated, as we imagine."
+
+"I can't understand it," cried Claude, catching up his hat; "in place of
+growing clearer, the matter seems to become more involved. How do you
+intend to proceed? It seems to me that we are at a dead stop."
+
+"By no means, my dear fellow. There is Kerry, alias Denis Bantry, to be
+examined. We must learn the truth from him."
+
+"He won't tell it! Particularly if our suspicions are correct."
+
+"Perhaps not, but I have provided against that failure. You must appeal
+to him as the son of his old master, while I am absent."
+
+"Absent! Where are you going?"
+
+"Can't you guess? To Horriston, of course, in order to pick up what
+information I can. There are sure to be people still alive who remember
+your father and mother; who recollect the trial, and are still
+acquainted with Mr. Hilliston. I expect to learn a good deal about that
+gentleman there; and perhaps something about Jeringham and his
+disappearance."
+
+"Humph! I doubt if you will be successful," replied Claude gloomily;
+"however, there is no harm in trying. Where are we going now?"
+
+"I told you before we set out. To call on the vicar. As we can't see
+Jenny at her father's house we must meet her in another person's. She is
+like a daughter to Mrs. Linton, and is constantly at the vicarage."
+
+"And no doubt young Linton loves her."
+
+"I'm sure he does. Have you any objection?" demanded Tait slyly.
+
+"None! None!" said Claude hastily. "I have only met her for a few
+minutes, you know. But she is a remarkably pretty girl, and from what
+you say seems to be clever. Too good by half for that idiot."
+
+"Idiot! John Parver, novelist, the lion of the season, an idiot? You
+forget he wrote the book of the year."
+
+"So he says," responded Larcher dryly. "But for my part, I believe Jenny
+Paynton has more to do with it than he. I have no doubt she wrote it."
+
+Further conversation was put an end to for the time being by their
+arrival at the vicarage. Mr. Linton, a stiff old gentleman with a severe
+face, received them very kindly, and unbent so far as in him lay. He had
+been acquainted with Tait for many years, and it was during a visit to
+him that the little man had seen and purchased Thorston Manor. Knowing
+him to be wealthy, and being well disposed toward him for his own sake,
+Mr. Linton was anxious to make the Lord of the Manor at home in his
+house. Vicars cannot afford to neglect opulent parishioners.
+
+"I hope, Mr. Tait, that you will shortly take up your abode altogether
+at the Manor," said he pompously. "I am not in favor of an absentee
+landlord."
+
+"Oh, you'll see a good deal of me, Mr. Linton, I assure you. I am too
+much in love with the beauties of the place to stay long away. Moreover,
+I am not a roamer like my friend Larcher here."
+
+"It is necessary with me," said Claude, smiling; "I assure you, sir, I
+am not the wandering vagabond Tait would make me out to be."
+
+"It is proper to see the world," said the vicar, with heavy playfulness,
+"and when you have made your fortune in far countries, Mr. Larcher, you
+may settle down in this favored spot."
+
+"I could wish for nothing better, Mr. Linton. But the time is yet far
+off for that."
+
+"My son is also fond of traveling," continued Mr. Linton. "Now that he
+is making a good income he tells me that it is his intention to go to
+Italy."
+
+"You are proud of your son, Mr. Linton," said Tait genially.
+
+"Without doubt! Without doubt! The book he wrote is clever, although I
+do not care for sensational writing myself."
+
+"It pays. The taste of the age is in the direction of sensationalism."
+
+"Certainly, certainly. And I suppose it is only natural that Francis
+should write some frivolity. He was never a deep scholar. What does
+astonish me," added the vicar, raising his eyebrows, "is that a student
+like Mr. Paynton should desire to read the book."
+
+Tait and Claude glanced at one another with the same thought in their
+minds respecting this information. Informed by Hilliston of the use made
+by Linton of the Larcher affair, Paynton was anxious to see in what
+light the case had been placed. This curiosity argued that the recluse
+had been one of the actors in the tragedy; if so, he could only be
+Jeringham, since Captain Larcher was dead, and they knew both Denis
+Bantry and Francis Hilliston. The vicar, worthy man, was quite ignorant
+of the effect produced by this announcement; nor was he undeceived by
+the artful reply of Tait.
+
+"Naturally Mr. Paynton wants to read the book," said the latter
+diplomatically. "If I mistake not, he has a great liking for Frank."
+
+"Indeed, yes," responded Mr. Linton thankfully. "He taught Francis Latin
+along with Jenny. He would have made a scholar of him. I am indeed sorry
+that my son failed to profit by his association with so brilliant a
+student. He might have written a better book."
+
+Clearly the vicar was by no means impressed with the sensationalism of
+"A Whim of Fate," and would rather his son had written an honest
+pamphlet or a grave tragedy than have produced so meretricious a piece
+of three-volume frivolity. However, he had no time to talk further on
+this matter, for as he ended his speech the subject of it entered the
+room with Jenny and Mrs. Linton. The former started and flushed as she
+saw Claude, and remembered his romantic history and their former
+meeting.
+
+"My wife, Mr. Larcher. You know Mr. Tait of course, my dear. Miss
+Paynton, Mr. Larcher, and my son."
+
+"I have already had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Frank Linton in town,"
+said Claude, holding out his hand. The young author took it willingly
+enough, and then the company resolved itself into two groups; the vicar
+and his wife conversing with Tait, while Claude, seconded by Frank, made
+himself agreeable to Jenny. Neither the lady nor the author were pleased
+with this arrangement, as the former felt uneasy when she remembered her
+father's position, while the latter felt jealous of Claude's superior
+good looks. Frank Linton was, of course, ignorant that he was in the
+company of the son of the Horriston victim; he did not even know the
+names of the people or that of the place, and had simply written the
+story on the meager information afforded by Jenny. He could not,
+therefore, understand the interest which those two displayed in one
+another, and so grew jealous on seeing it.
+
+It would be useless to report this conversation, which in the main
+consisted of frivolities. Warned by her father, Jenny was on her guard,
+and carefully avoided any allusion to the Larcher affair. On his part,
+not knowing the reticence Jenny had practised with regard to Linton,
+Claude tried to lead the conversation into a grove likely to deal with
+the novel and case. At one point he did this so clumsily that Jenny
+spoke outright on the subject.
+
+"Let us talk no more of that, Mr. Larcher," she said quietly. "I told
+Mr. Tait all I knew the other day."
+
+"I have to thank you----" began Claude, when she cut him short, and
+turned the conversation into another channel. The young man was
+disappointed in this, but nevertheless fell in with her humor, and when,
+following Tait's example, he arose to go, he was quite charmed with this
+country girl.
+
+"I hope you will come soon again," said the vicar hospitably, as he
+shook hands. "We must have a party shortly. Our friends, Mr. and Mrs.
+Hilliston, have promised to come and stay the night during next week."
+
+"Another move, and a foolish one," thought Tait, but said aloud: "We
+will be charmed, Mr. Linton, the more so as Mr. Hilliston is my friend's
+guardian--or rather was."
+
+Jenny looked startled at this, and her rich color faded when she said
+good-by to Claude. The mystery of the affair was beginning to worry her,
+and she could by no means understand the relation of Hilliston to
+Larcher; Hilliston, who was the guardian and friend; Hilliston who,
+judging from the veto put on her speaking, was inimical to Claude.
+Untroubled by their conversation Claude held but one idea when he left
+the house with Tait.
+
+"I'm afraid I am in love," said he, looking at his friend.
+
+"What! at first sight? Impossible!"
+
+"Shakspere did not think so, or he would not have written 'Romeo and
+Juliet.' Yes, I believe I am in love. Jenny is as fresh and fair, and
+pure and sweet as a mountain daisy."
+
+"You had better tell Linton so," said Tait dryly, whereat Larcher
+laughed. He was too confident in his own powers to be timorous of
+rivalry with the celebrated individual.
+
+"There is no need to tell him," he said lightly; "the poor man was eaten
+up with jealousy when I spoke to Miss Paynton. By the way, did you see
+that she changed color when you mentioned that Hilliston had been my
+guardian?"
+
+"It was natural that she should. Hilliston is a suspicious person in her
+eyes, and this discovery will perplex her still more regarding his
+relations with you. Jenny is a very clever young woman, but I wonder if
+she is clever enough to put this and that together."
+
+"To arrive at what conclusion?"
+
+"At the most logical conclusion. That her father is Jeringham, whom she
+suspects of the crime."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+                                 KERRY.
+
+
+HAVING, as he considered, prepared the ground by acquainting Claude with
+the notabilities of the neighborhood, Tait next proceeded to secure an
+interview with Kerry. This was by no means an easy matter, as, either by
+accident or design, Kerry eluded all the young men's attempts to
+interview him. Hitherto he had been accustomed to fish daily in the Lax,
+but now, doubtless by direction of his master, he forsook his customary
+sport for some considerable time. His absence speedily roused Tait's
+suspicions.
+
+"Hilliston has succeeded well," said he, after one of these futile
+attempts to see the old servant. "He has put Jeringham on his guard."
+
+"Paynton, you mean," observed Claude, looking up from his plate. They
+were at breakfast when this conversation took place.
+
+"I thought you had determined in your own mind that he was Jeringham."
+
+"No," said Claude, coloring a little; "I have come round to your opinion
+in the matter. If Paynton were Jeringham, I don't think Denis Bantry
+would be in his service."
+
+"Ah!" remarked Tait sarcastically, "is that the result of reflection or
+of love?"
+
+"Of love? I don't understand you."
+
+"Yes, you do, Claude. You are in love with Jenny. The last week has only
+deepened your first impressions. I believe she likes you also, and so I
+foresee a marriage which will rob me of my friend."
+
+"I am not so certain of that as you are," said Larcher, after a pause.
+"Miss Paynton has given me no hint of her feelings, and our acquaintance
+is yet young. Even if I did design to make her my wife, I would have to
+gain her consent, and that of her father. Judging from Paynton's present
+attitude that consent would most probably be refused."
+
+Tait did not immediately reply, but stared out of the window with an
+absent look in his eyes. The remark changed the current of his ideas.
+
+"I wonder who Paynton can be?" he said at length, with some hesitation.
+"That he is connected with the case I am certain from the way in which
+he has profited by the warning of Hilliston. Like yourself, I have my
+doubts regarding his identity with Jeringham, because of Denis Bantry.
+Who is he? I must go to Horriston to-morrow and find out."
+
+"And what am I to do in the meantime?"
+
+"Hunt out Kerry and learn the truth," said Tait coolly. "I think, after
+all, it will be best for you to see him alone. I am a stranger, and he
+won't speak before me; but to you, the son of his old master, he may
+open his heart. Once he does that you may learn the truth."
+
+"I doubt it."
+
+"Well, there is a chance. Whatever tie binds Denis to Paynton, you must
+not forget that he is Irish. The Irish are an impulsive and excitable
+race, so it is just possible that his feelings may carry him away in
+your presence, and he may tell you all we wish to know."
+
+"Do you think he can solve the mystery?"
+
+"Yes. He was in the house when Jeringham came home with your mother; he
+picked up the garnet pin, and, it may be, can tell us to whom it
+belongs. It may be the property of Hilliston, as is stated in the novel;
+on the other hand it may belong to your father or to Jeringham. Of one
+point I am sure, the person who owned the pin killed your father. Kerry,
+or rather Denis Bantry, knows the owner, and consequently the murderer."
+
+"If so, why did he not denounce him?"
+
+"There you puzzle me," said Tait, rising to his feet; "that is one of
+the many mysteries of this case. Only Denis can explain, and he may do
+so to you. I shall stay at home this morning, and prepare for my journey
+to Horriston; but you had better take your fishing rod and go to your
+post."
+
+The post alluded to was on the banks of the Lax, where for the past week
+the young men had patiently waited for the appearance of Denis. On this
+morning Claude found himself alone for the first time; and sat down with
+a disconsolate air, for he had little hope that Denis would make his
+appearance. In this surmise he was wrong, for scarcely had he been
+seated half an hour when the Irishman came slowly along on the opposite
+bank of the river.
+
+He was a little old man, gray as a badger, with stooped shoulders, and a
+cross-looking face. Without vouchsafing a look in Claude's direction, he
+prepared his fishing tackle and began industriously to whip the stream.
+Hardly knowing how to break the ice, Larcher silently continued his
+sport, and the two, divided by the water, stood like statues on opposite
+banks.
+
+After a time Denis, who had been cunningly taking stock of Claude, and
+wondering why his letter had not produced the effect intended, moved
+down to where the stream narrowed itself between large stones.
+Determined to invent some excuse for speaking, Larcher followed after a
+time, and stepped out on to a bowlder, apparently to throw his line into
+a likely looking pool. Being within reach, he flung his line, and the
+next moment it was entangled in that of Kerry's.
+
+"I'm sorry! Quite an accident," said Claude, noting the wrath on Kerry's
+face. "Let me disentangle it."
+
+He jumped into the brown water and, before Kerry could make any
+objection, was across on the other side, gripping the lines. Without a
+word the Irishman let him separate the two lines, and then busied
+himself with fixing a fly. Nettled at this determined silence Claude
+spoke.
+
+"I wish to speak with you," he said, tapping the other on the shoulder.
+
+"Is it to me ye speak?" replied Kerry, with an admirable look of
+surprise; "and what has the like of you, sir, to say to me?"
+
+"A great deal. Do you know who I am?"
+
+"Sure, an' I do, sir. The friend of Mr. Tait, you are no less."
+
+"But my name. Do you know it?"
+
+"Bad luck to this stream, there's never a fish in it," grumbled Kerry,
+with a convenient attack of deafness.
+
+Claude was in nowise angered.
+
+"That is very clever, Kerry," he said; "but----"
+
+"An' how do you know my name is Kerry?"
+
+"Are you surprised that I should know it?"
+
+"I am that," replied Kerry sharply. "I never set eyes on you before."
+
+"Oh, yes, you did--twenty-five years ago."
+
+"Begorra, that's a lie, anyhow!" muttered Kerry, under his breath, with
+an uneasy wriggle.
+
+"It is not a lie, and you know it, my man," said Larcher firmly; "it is
+no use your pretending ignorance. I know who you are."
+
+"Devil a doubt of it! Kerry, you called me."
+
+"Yes! Because you are known by that name here. But at Horriston----"
+
+Claude stopped. He saw the hands of the old man grip the rod so tight
+that the knuckles whitened. The name had produced the effect he
+intended. So, almost without a pause, he continued, and aimed another
+blow at Kerry's imperturbability. "At Horriston," he resumed, "you were
+known as Denis Bantry."
+
+"Was I, now?" said Kerry, prepared for the attack. "Augh, to think of
+it! And where might Horriston be, sir?"
+
+"You ought to know that, Denis."
+
+"Your honor will be after giving me the name of a friend of yours."
+
+"Quite right," rejoined Claude, seizing the opportunity. "You were--nay,
+you are--a friend of mine. I am the little lad you carried in your
+arms--to whom you told stories, and sang songs. Children forget a great
+deal, but I have not forgotten you, Denis."
+
+In dogged silence the old man turned his head away, intently bent on his
+sport, but suddenly he raised the cuff of his coat and wiped away a
+betraying tear. Seeing that he had touched the man's sympathy, Claude
+followed up his advantage.
+
+"You are not going to deny me, Denis, are you?" he said entreatingly. "I
+am down here on an errand which you must guess. If Hilliston----"
+
+"The curse of Cromwell on him!" said Kerry, under his breath.
+
+"If Hilliston told you to keep silent," said Claude, affecting to take
+no notice of the interjection, which confirmed his suspicions, "I, the
+son of your dead master, want you to speak. I wish to find out who
+killed my father. I wish to punish him, for you know his name."
+
+Kerry turned furiously on the young man, but it seemed to Claude that
+his anger was feigned to hide a deeper emotion.
+
+"It is a dirty informer you'd have me be," he cried, with a stamp of his
+foot, "to betray him whose bread I eat. I'll tell you nothing, for it's
+that much I know."
+
+"Denis----"
+
+"I'm not Denis! It's Kerry I am. I know nothing of Horriston, or of you,
+sir. Go away with ye, young gentleman, and don't be after disgracing an
+old servant to play the spy and cheat."
+
+Then, still breathing fury, he rushed away, but paused some distance off
+to raise his hands to the sky with an appealing gesture. The impulsive
+Irish nature had broken through diplomatic reserve, and, fearful of
+saying too much, Kerry saved himself by flight. Claude guessed this and
+forebore to follow him.
+
+"I have broken the ice at all events," he said to himself, when
+returning to the Manor to tell Tait. "The next time I may be fortunate
+enough to force the truth out of him. He knows it, I am certain. He
+hates Hilliston and loves me. I can easily guess with whom he
+sympathizes, in spite of his master. He is Denis, sure enough, but who
+is Paynton?"
+
+It was impossible to say.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+                           MRS. BEZEL AGAIN.
+
+
+ON returning home Claude found that Tait, contrary to his expressed
+intention, had gone out. Dormer, who was packing a portmanteau for the
+Horriston journey, could not inform Larcher when his master would be
+back, but ventured an opinion that he would certainly return to
+luncheon. Meanwhile, he handed to Claude some letters which had just
+arrived, and with these the young man managed to pass a fairly
+uncomfortable hour. Uncomfortable, because one of the letters was from
+Mrs. Bezel, and proved of so puzzling a character that Larcher was in a
+fever of impatience to discuss it with Tait.
+
+The little man returned to luncheon, as was surmised by Dormer, and was
+met in the hall by Claude with the open letter of Mrs. Bezel in his
+hand.
+
+"My dear fellow, why did you go out?" said Larcher complainingly. "I
+have so much to tell you. I have seen Kerry, and now here is a letter
+from Mrs. Bezel."
+
+"What! is she on the stage again?" said Tait eagerly. "Let me see the
+letter."
+
+"Not yet," replied Claude, putting it promptly behind his back. "You
+must first tell me why you left the house, when you ought to be packing
+up for Horriston."
+
+Tait shrugged his shoulders, bowed to the inevitable, and went into the
+dining room. Here he sat at the table and began to carve some cold beef,
+thereby throwing Claude into a rage.
+
+"You cold-blooded little monster," he cried, tapping on the table, "will
+you satisfy my curiosity?"
+
+"Why should I?" said Tait, grinning. "You won't satisfy mine."
+
+"Then read the letter," retorted Claude, throwing it across the table.
+To his surprise Tait placed it on one side.
+
+"Not yet!" he said, resuming his carving. "We must have a talk first.
+Have some beef."
+
+"I don't want beef, but information."
+
+"You shall have both," said Tait calmly. "Do you prefer beer or claret?"
+
+"Beer!" replied Larcher resignedly, falling in with the tricksey humor
+of his friend. Tait was a man with whom it was impossible to quarrel.
+
+"Dormer, fill Mr. Larcher's glass; put the claret jug beside me, and
+leave the room. We will wait on ourselves."
+
+As stolid as a wooden image Dormer obeyed these instructions, and
+wheeled out of the room. Tait ate a few mouthfuls of beef, drank a glass
+of claret, and prepared to talk. His first remark was a bombshell.
+
+"I have seen Paynton," said he slowly.
+
+"The deuce you have!" cried Claude, in surprise; "and how did you manage
+to take his castle by storm?"
+
+"Easily enough, by the help of a lie and a little strategy. I went out
+to see if you were at your post, and caught sight of Kerry crossing the
+fields. As I knew Jenny would be at the Lintons',--for she goes there to
+see the old lady every morning,--I guessed that Rose Cottage would be
+undefended; so back I ran to the house, picked up a book which I had
+promised to lend the young lady, and went to pay my visit."
+
+"How did you get inside the gate? It is generally locked."
+
+"It wasn't on this occasion," replied Tait complacently. "I opened it
+and walked in, to find old Paynton strolling in the garden. Catching
+sight of me, he turned back to re-enter the house, but, luckily, I was
+between him and the door, so we met face to face."
+
+"What kind of a man is he to look at?"
+
+"Oh, a fine-looking old chap, with white hair and beard, a skullcap, and
+a dressing gown. Quite the get up of a necromancer."
+
+"Did he speak to you," asked Claude, having considered this description.
+
+"He asked me politely what my business was; whereupon I presented the
+book, and mentioned that it was for his daughter. He replied that she
+was at the Lintons', and would be back soon, when he would give her the
+book himself. Then he asked me to excuse him, and bowed me out of the
+gate. But," added Tait, with emphasis, "not before I had mentioned that
+Mr. Claude Larcher was staying with me."
+
+"Did my name produce any effect?"
+
+"Rather! Paynton changed color, and mumbled something unintelligible.
+Then he turned his back and walked quickly into the house, leaving me to
+close the gate myself. Depend upon it, he knows something, Claude."
+
+"But his name isn't mentioned in connection with the case."
+
+"Of course not. Paynton is a feigned one. And, as I have said before,
+there are, no doubt, actors in the tragedy of whom we know nothing."
+
+"There is one of that sort mentioned here," said Larcher, picking up
+Mrs. Bezel's letter. "Read that, Tait, and see what you make of it."
+
+It proved to be a short note, hastily written, and ran as follows:
+
+        "MY DEAR CLAUDE:
+    "If you are still in doubt as to who murdered your father, ask
+    Mr. Hilliston to tell you about Louisa Sinclair, who lived at
+    Horriston twenty-five years ago. She knows.
+                                    "Your affectionate mother,
+                                               "MARGARET BEZEL."
+
+"Louisa Sinclair," repeated Tait slowly, having mastered the contents of
+this letter. "No, I never heard of her. It is strange that Hilliston has
+never mentioned her name."
+
+"No doubt he had good reasons for not doing so," said Claude bitterly.
+"You need not look so astonished, Tait. I have long ago come round to
+your opinion of my old guardian. His intimacy with Paynton and the
+effect of his visit on Kerry would convince me--not to speak of that
+'anonymous letter.'"
+
+"Ah! Kerry refused to speak."
+
+"He would not say a word, and, moreover, stated that he was not Denis
+Bantry; that he had never heard of Horriston. In fact, he acted his part
+excellently well till the last. Then he broke down, and, afraid of
+letting the cat out of the bag, he ran away."
+
+"Exactly what his master did," said Tait thoughtfully. "Depend upon it,
+Claude, we will learn the truth from one of those two."
+
+"If you think so, why go to Horriston?"
+
+"Because I want to learn the real name of Paynton, and, moreover, here
+is an additional reason. I must find out Louisa Sinclair."
+
+"There is no mention of her in the case."
+
+"Quite true. And there is no mention of Paynton; but for all that he
+knows about it. Oh, you may be sure there are circumstances to be
+discovered at Horriston which never came to light at the trial."
+
+"My mother is anxious for the mystery to be cleared up."
+
+"So I see, and I am glad of it," said Tait, with an affectation of
+carelessness. "I thought she was too ill to take an interest in the
+matter."
+
+"Am I to ask Hilliston about this woman?" said Claude, looking up in
+some doubt.
+
+"No," replied his friend, after a few moments' deliberation. "Our
+success in this depends on keeping Hilliston in the dark concerning our
+movements. If we tell him too much he may thwart us, as he has done
+already in this Paynton business. Say nothing about Louisa Sinclair, or
+about my visit to Horriston. Tell him I have gone to town, and let him
+figure out the reason for himself. By the way, when do you see him?"
+
+"On Friday evening. Both he and his wife are coming to dine, and stop
+all night at the vicarage. You may be sure Hilliston will put me through
+a thorough cross-examination regarding your absence."
+
+"Refer him to Mr. Linton," said Tait coolly. "I am writing to that
+gentleman, telling him I am unexpectedly called to town on particular
+business. What that business is Hilliston will be anxious to know. I
+don't think he'll enjoy his evening at all. A guilty conscience mars all
+pleasure."
+
+"When do you leave?"
+
+"By the 4.20 train this afternoon. I'll write you about my discoveries
+as soon as I find out anything worth scribbling about."
+
+"You'll find nothing," said Claude dolefully; "after five-and-twenty
+years."
+
+"I'll find out who Louisa Sinclair is, and then astonish Hilliston with
+the extent of my information. Regarding Paynton, I am not so certain.
+That discovery rests between you and Denis Bantry."
+
+"I'll do my best, but I am doubtful," replied Claude, and so the
+conversation terminated for the time being. It left a lasting impression
+on the two who took part in it.
+
+Tait duly took his departure with Dormer, leaving Claude in possession
+of the house. As he leaned out of the window of the smoking carriage, he
+said a last word to his friend:
+
+"Don't tell Hilliston about my going to Horriston," he said
+significantly; "but if you get a chance inform his wife of the fact."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'll tell you that when I come back," said Tait, as the train moved
+slowly off. "Give her the information, and observe the effect; it will
+astonish you."
+
+But Tait counted without his host; he was ignorant of Mrs. Hilliston's
+powers of self-control.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+                      AN EVENING AT THE VICARAGE.
+
+
+THE Vicar of Thorston was a severe man, a trifle narrow in his views,
+and imperious of temper; but he was also fond of good cheer and
+hospitality--virtues which cover a multitude of sins. Those who sat at
+his table were sure of a capital dinner and an excellent glass of wine;
+for his cook and cellar were both undeniable. Report said that Mr.
+Linton was afraid of his cook, for that good lady had a hot temper, and
+feared no man. Many were the battles between her and the vicar, but
+being a perfect mistress of the culinary art, she invariably came off
+victor. She had her faults, but she was a jewel of a cook, and was
+valued accordingly.
+
+On this special evening the vicar had assembled ten people, including
+himself, round his hospitable board. Mr. and Mrs. Hilliston were the
+principal guests, and Claude was also honored with special attention. An
+old couple named Densham, garrulous and pleasant, had likewise been
+invited; and they, with their daughter and Jenny Paynton, completed the
+party. To Claude was assigned Miss Paynton, while to Frank Linton was
+given the Densham damsel, an arrangement which was anything but pleasing
+to that jealous young man, or indeed to Miss Densham, who thought the
+famous author a grumpy creature. He was too preoccupied to please her
+taste.
+
+Claude thought he had never seen Mrs. Hilliston to such disadvantage.
+She appeared ill at ease, and was haggard and pale of face, looking
+every year of her age. Even the rich dress and splendid jewels she wore
+failed to conceal the ravages of time; and in the neighborhood of the
+fresh beauty of the two girls she seemed an old woman. She felt this
+herself, for Claude noted that she threw an envious glance at the
+blooming faces of her rivals, and surveyed her wan looks in the nearest
+glass with a sigh. To her the party was purgatory.
+
+Nor did the lawyer appear to enjoy himself. He was moody and fretful,
+though every now and then he forced himself to be merry, but his laugh
+was hollow, and the careworn expression of his face belied his untimely
+mirth. Sometimes he stole a furtive look at Claude, and seemed to brood
+over the young man's changed manner; for, do what he could, Larcher,
+deeming his old friend an enemy, could not behave with his former
+cordiality. He was ill-suited for a diplomat.
+
+The dinner passed off with moderate success. Frank was complimented on
+his book, and the prosy couple had to be told the main points of the
+story. This brief recital made at least three people uncomfortable; for
+Claude raised his eyes to encounter an angry glance from Hilliston, and
+a deprecating one from Jenny. They were relieved when the vicar, who by
+no means approved of such attention being bestowed on a trashy novel,
+even though his son was the author, turned the conversation into another
+channel. Mr. Linton liked to lead the conversation at his own table.
+
+"I wish to speak to you particularly, Claude," whispered Mrs. Hilliston,
+as he held the door open for the ladies to retire; "do not be long over
+your wine."
+
+"I will come as soon as I can," he replied, and returned to his seat,
+wondering what she could have to say to him. He was not left long in
+doubt, for Mr. Hilliston entered into conversation as soon as the
+glasses were filled and the cigars lighted. This was the moment for
+which he had longed for the whole evening.
+
+"Why isn't your friend Tait here to-night?" he asked, in a casual tone,
+feigning a lightness he did not feel.
+
+"Did not Mr. Linton tell you?" replied Claude, prepared for this query.
+"He had to go to town on business."
+
+"On business," murmured Hilliston uneasily; "anything to do with this
+case you have taken up?"
+
+"I can't say. Tait did not particularly state his errand."
+
+The lawyer sipped his wine, looked thoughtfully at the end of the cigar,
+and pondered for a few minutes. He wished to speak of Claude's changed
+behavior toward himself, yet did not know how to begin. At length he
+bluntly blurted out a question, straightforward and to the point. This
+was undiplomatic, but at times human nature is too strong for training.
+
+"We are not such good friends as of yore, Claude. How is that?"
+
+"I think you can guess the reason," replied Larcher, not ill pleased to
+fight out the point, for he hated being forced into doubtful civility.
+"It is this case which has come between us. I do not think you are
+giving me what help you ought to, Mr. Hilliston."
+
+"I can give you no help," said the lawyer, drawing his heavy brows
+together. "You know as much as I do. No doubt your meddlesome friend
+knows more."
+
+"It is not improbable. But you can prove your honesty in the matter by
+doing me a favor."
+
+"My honesty, sir, has never been called into question yet," said
+Hilliston, injudiciously losing his temper, always a prelude to defeat.
+"And I have no call to defend myself to one to whom I have been a
+father. Still I am willing to grant you what you wish, in reason."
+
+"Very good! Then introduce me to Mr. Paynton."
+
+"I'm afraid that is out of my power," replied Hilliston, shaking his
+head. "You know the man's ways, I think. He is a hermit, a misanthrope,
+and does not care for company. Why do you wish to know him?"
+
+"For various reasons," answered Larcher, coloring with some
+embarrassment. He was by no means willing to take Mr. Hilliston into his
+confidence.
+
+His old guardian looked at him shrewdly, and, remembering certain small
+circumstances connected with Jenny, guessed, with the skill of an
+experienced character reader, how the land lay. At once he formed a
+resolution to further Claude's interests in the matter, hoping, and not
+unjustly, that should the lad be taken in the toils of love, he might
+stop further investigation of the case, an end which Hilliston much
+desired to gain.
+
+"Oh!" said he not unkindly, "sits the wind in that quarter? Well, I will
+aid you. In a few days I will try and induce Mr. Paynton to see you, and
+then perhaps you may succeed."
+
+"Succeed in what?" demanded Claude sharply, hardly relishing this
+perspicuity.
+
+"Why, in this love-suit of yours. Aye, aye, Claude, I can see what you
+aim at, old as I am. Well, she is a pretty girl, clever and worthy. I
+know of no woman who would make you a better wife. You have my best
+wishes for your success."
+
+"And you will introduce me to her father?"
+
+"I'll try to, but I won't promise confidently. Paynton is a strange
+creature and may refuse to see you. By the way," added Hilliston, as
+though struck with a sudden thought, "what was my wife saying to you at
+the door?"
+
+"She was requesting me to speak to her in the drawing room. There is
+nothing wrong, I hope? She does not look well."
+
+"Oh, nothing wrong, nothing wrong!" replied Hilliston easily, rising to
+his feet as the vicar moved toward the door. "She is fond of you, my
+dear boy, and is anxious about the case."
+
+"Anxious about the case," thought Larcher, as he followed his host into
+the drawing room; "that is strange. She can have no interest in it. H'm!
+I'll try the effect of Tait's destination on her. He said I would be
+astonished at the result. I am beginning to be so already."
+
+Perhaps Jenny had overheard the whisper in the dining room, and was
+sufficiently taken with Larcher to be jealous of his attentions to Mrs.
+Hilliston, old though she deemed her, for, before he could cross over to
+where the lawyer's wife was seated, Jenny beckoned to him with her
+imperious finger. He could do nothing but obey, despite the frown which
+darkened Mrs. Hilliston's face, as she saw, and, with womanly instinct,
+guessed the maneuver.
+
+"Come and sit down here," whispered Jenny, under cover of the music, for
+Miss Densham was at the piano. "I have not seen you for several days."
+
+"That is not my fault," said Claude, delighted at the interest thus
+displayed; "you stay so much indoors. I have been looking for you
+everywhere."
+
+"Have you, indeed, Mr. Larcher?" said Jenny, with feigned surprise. "And
+why, may I ask?"
+
+"Oh, for no particular purpose, unless, indeed, it was to ask you for
+further information concerning the novel."
+
+"Hush. Not a word of that. I can't speak of it to you. I know who you
+are, Mr. Larcher, but I am ignorant of the tragedy save what I told to
+Frank, and later on to Mr. Tait."
+
+"But you can guess----"
+
+"I can guess nothing," interrupted the girl imperiously. "If you and I
+are to remain friends you must cease talking on that subject."
+
+"I'll do anything to remain friends with you, Miss Paynton," was the
+significant reply.
+
+"Then talk of anything save that terrible case. Oh, how I wish I had
+left it alone!"
+
+"I'm glad you did not," said Claude bluntly. "If it had not been for
+that book----"
+
+Before he could finish the sentence Jenny shot an indignant look at him,
+and deliberately rising from her seat crossed the room to where Frank
+Linton was frowning and tugging at his mustache. Claude was vexed at his
+folly in thus drawing down her anger on him, but accepted his beating
+like a man, and passed over to where Mrs. Hilliston waited with an
+expectant face. She remarked on his tardy coming with some bitterness.
+
+"I see you prefer a younger face to mine," she said, drawing herself up.
+"Time was when I had no rival to fear."
+
+"Dear Mrs. Hilliston, I could not disobey a lady. Besides--besides----"
+
+"Besides you are in love with her. Oh, I can see that! Well, she is a
+pretty girl. So you intend to marry her?"
+
+"It is early yet to talk of marriage. I don't even know if she likes
+me."
+
+Mrs. Hilliston laughed, and looked at him smilingly. "Then you must be
+very ignorant of the way of women, my dear," she said meaningly. "A word
+in your ear, Claude. That girl loves you."
+
+"In two weeks! Impossible!"
+
+"I've known love to grow in two days," replied Mrs. Hilliston dryly.
+"Oh, yes, she loves you, and you love her, so you can marry as soon as
+you choose."
+
+"First I must get Mr. Paynton's consent."
+
+"I should not think that would be difficult," said the lady, looking at
+his eager face. "You are young, not ill-looking, not badly off, and so I
+should not think Mr. Paynton would desire anything better for his
+daughter. So much for the first obstacle, and the second?"
+
+"I must solve the mystery of my father's death."
+
+Mrs. Hilliston's manner changed on the instant, and from being gay she
+became severe and anxious-looking. Indeed, Claude thought that she paled
+under her rouge; but this might have been fancy.
+
+"It is about that I wish to speak to you," she said hurriedly. "I want
+you to stop investigating this case. You will learn nothing; it would be
+of no use to anyone if you did solve the mystery. Stop troubling
+yourself with slander, Claude."
+
+"Why?" he asked, astonished at her earnest tone.
+
+"Because your conduct vexes my husband. He has been a father to you in
+the place of the one you lost, so you ought to consider him a little.
+Pray leave that mystery unsolved."
+
+"If I would, Tait would not. He is now even more eager than I to find
+out the truth."
+
+"Horrid little man!" said the lady viciously. "Where is he now?"
+
+The time had now come to try the effect of Tait's destination, and
+fixing his eyes on Mrs. Hilliston as she slowly fanned herself, Claude
+uttered the fatal words.
+
+"He is at Horriston."
+
+The fan stopped, Mrs. Hilliston paled, but, preserving her self-control
+with a strong effort, replied quietly:
+
+"At Horriston. And why?"
+
+"To find out a person not mentioned in the case."
+
+"Man or woman?" asked Mrs. Hilliston in a low voice.
+
+"Woman."
+
+She said no more, but turned away her head to reply to her husband, who
+came up opportunely. He also had heard the last few words of the
+conversation, and, ignoring the presence of Claude, husband and wife
+looked at one another with pale faces.
+
+The shot had struck home, and Larcher saw that it had.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+                    THE DISCOVERIES OF SPENSER TAIT.
+
+
+HORRISTON might fitly be compared to Jonah's gourd; it sprang up in a
+night, so to speak, and withered in the space of a day. In the earlier
+part of the Victorian era a celebrated doctor recommended its mineral
+springs, and invalids flocked to be cured at this new pool of Bethesda.
+Whether the cures were not genuine, or insufficiently rapid to please
+the sick folk, it is hard to say, but after fifteen or twenty years of
+prosperity the crowd of fashionable valetudinarians ceased to occupy the
+commodious lodging houses and hotels in Horriston. Other places sprang
+up with greater attractions and more certain cures, so the erstwhile
+fashionable town relapsed into its provincial dullness. No one lived
+there but a few retired army men, and no one came save a stray neurotic
+person in search of absolute quiet. Few failed to get that at Horriston,
+which was now as sleepy a place as could be found in all England. Even
+Thorston was more in touch with the nineteenth century than this
+deserted town.
+
+As Tait drove through the streets on his way to the principal hotel, he
+could not help noticing the dreary look of the chief thoroughfare. Many
+of the shops were closed, some were unoccupied, and those still open
+displayed wares grimy and flyblown. The shopkeepers came to their doors
+in a dazed fashion to look at the new visitor in the single fly which
+plied between station and hotel, thereby showing that the event was one
+of rare occurrence. There were no vehicles in the street itself save a
+lumbering cart containing market produce, and the doctor's trap which
+stood at the doctor's door. A few people sauntered along the pavement in
+a listless fashion, and the whole aspect of the place was one of decay
+and desertion. But for the presence of shopkeepers and pedestrians, few
+though they were, Tait could almost have imagined himself in some
+deserted mining township on the Californian coast.
+
+The principal hotel faced one side of a melancholy square, and was
+called "The Royal Victoria," out of compliment to the reigning monarch.
+It was a large barrack, with staring windows, and a flight of white
+steps leading up to a deserted hall. No busy waiters, no genial landlord
+or buxom barmaid, not even the sound of cheerful voices. Cats slept on
+the steps and fowls clucked in the square, while a melancholy waiter,
+peering out of the window, put the finishing touch to the lamentable
+dreariness of the scene. The sign "Royal Victoria" should have been
+removed out of very shame, and the word "Ichabod" written up in its
+place. The landlord was lacking in humor to let things remain as they
+were.
+
+However, Tait, being hungry and dusty and tired, consoled himself with
+the reflection that it was at all events an hotel, and speedily found
+himself the sole occupant of the dining room, attended to by the
+melancholy waiter. The viands provided were by no means bad, and the
+wine was undeniably good; and small wonder, seeing it had been in the
+cellars for a quarter of a century for want of someone to drink it. This
+fact was confided to Tait by his sad Ganymede.
+
+"We used to see a sight of company here," said this elderly person when
+he appeared with the claret, "but, bless you, it's like Babylon the
+fallen now, sir. You're the first gentleman as I have seen here for a
+week."
+
+"Shouldn't think it would pay to keep the hotel open."
+
+"It don't, sir," replied the waiter with conviction, "but master is well
+off--made his money in the days when Horriston was Horriston, and keeps
+this place as a sort of hobby. We have a club here in the evenings, sir,
+and that makes things a bit lively."
+
+"Have you been here long?" asked Tait, noticing how gray and wrinkled
+was this despondent servitor.
+
+"Over thirty years, sir," responded Ganymede, with a sigh as though the
+memory was too much for him; "man and boy I've been here thirty years."
+
+"I'm glad of that. You're the man I want. Got a good memory?"
+
+"Pretty good, sir. Not that there's much to remember," and he sighed
+again.
+
+"H'm. Have you any recollection of a murder which took place at The
+Laurels twenty-five years ago?"
+
+"That I have, sir," said the waiter, with faint animation, "it was the
+talk of the country. Captain Larcher, wasn't it, sir, and his wife, a
+sweetly pretty woman? She was accused of the murder, I think; but she
+didn't do it. No, nor Mr. Jeringham either, though some people think he
+did, 'cause he cleared out. And small blame to him when they were after
+him like roaring lions."
+
+"Do you remember Jeringham?"
+
+"I should think so, sir. Why he stopped in this very hotel, he did. As
+kind and affable a gentleman as I ever met, sir. He kill Captain
+Larcher? Not he! no more than did the wife, poor thing! Now I have my
+own opinion," said this wise person significantly, "but I didn't take to
+it for five years after the murder. As you might say twenty years ago,
+sir."
+
+"Who do you think committed the crime, then?" asked Tait, rather
+impressed by the man's manner.
+
+The waiter looked around, with the enjoyable air of a man about to
+impart a piece of startling information, and bent across the table to
+communicate it to Tait. "Denis Bantry was the man, sir," he said
+solemnly; "Captain Larcher's valet."
+
+"Nonsense! What makes you think that?"
+
+"I don't think it, sir. I know it. If you don't believe me, go to The
+Laurels and ask the old gardener, Dick Pental. He saw it," finished the
+waiter, in a tragic whisper.
+
+"Saw what? The murder?" said Tait, with a startled look.
+
+"Yes, sir. He saw the murder. I heard it all from him, I did; I forget
+the exact story he told me. But Denis Bantry should have been hanged,
+sir. Oh, there isn't the least doubt about it, sir."
+
+"But if this Dick Pental saw the crime committed, why didn't he come
+forward and tell about it?"
+
+"Well, sir, it was this way," said Ganymede, dusting the table with his
+napkin, "Dick aint all there. Not to be too delicate, sir, Dick's mad.
+He was always a softy from a boy, not that he's old now, sir.
+Forty-five, I believe, and he was twenty years of age when he was in
+Captain Larcher's service."
+
+"And is he at The Laurels still?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir. You see, after the murder, no one would take the house.
+They thought it haunted maybe, so Dick was put in as caretaker. He
+looked after it for twenty years, and then it was taken by a gentleman
+who didn't care for murders or ghosts. He's there now, sir, and so is
+Dick, who still looks after the garden."
+
+"But why didn't Dick relate what he saw?"
+
+"Because of his softness, sir," said the waiter deliberately. "You see
+Dick had been put into a lunatic asylum, he had, just before he came of
+age. Captain Larcher--a kind gentleman, sir--took him out, and made him
+gardener at The Laurels, so when Dick saw the murder done, he was afraid
+to speak, in case he should be locked up again. No head, you see, sir.
+So he held his tongue, he did, and only told me five years after the
+murder. Then it was too late, for all those who were at The Laurels on
+that night had disappeared. You don't happen to know where Denis Bantry
+is, sir, do you? For he ought to hang, sir; indeed he ought."
+
+Tait did not think it wise to take this bloodthirsty waiter into his
+confidence, but rewarded him with half a sovereign for his information,
+and retired to bed to think the matter over. He was startled by this new
+discovery, which seemed to indicate Denis Bantry, alias Kerry, as the
+assassin, and wondered if he had been wrong all through in suspecting
+Hilliston. Yet if Kerry had committed the crime, Tait saw no reason why
+Hilliston should protect him, as he was evidently doing. Assuming that
+the waiter had spoken correctly, the only ground on which Tait could
+explain Hilliston's conduct was that Mrs. Larcher was implicated with
+the old servant in the murder. If Kerry were arrested he might confess
+sufficient to entangle Mrs. Larcher; and as Hilliston loved the woman, a
+fact of which Tait was certain, he would not like to run so great a risk
+to her liberty. But this reasoning was upset by the remembrance that
+Mrs. Larcher had already been tried and acquitted of the crime; and as
+according to law she could not be tried twice on the same charge, she
+was safe in any case. Tait was bewildered by his own thoughts. The
+kaleidoscope had shifted again; the combinations were different, but the
+component parts were the same; and argue as he might there seemed no
+solution of the mystery. Mrs. Larcher, Denis Bantry, his sister,
+Hilliston, and Mark Jeringham; who had killed the unfortunate husband?
+Tait could find no answer to this perplexing question.
+
+In the morning he walked to The Laurels, which he had no difficulty in
+finding, owing to the explicit directions of his friend the waiter. It
+was a pretty, low-roofed house on a slight rise near the river, and
+built somewhat after the fashion of a bungalow. The gardens sloped to
+the river bank on one side, and on the other were sheltered from inland
+winds by a belt of sycamore trees; in front a light iron railing divided
+them from the road, which ran past the house on its way to the ferry.
+The gardens were some three acres in extent, very pretty and
+picturesque, showing at every turn that whatever might be the mental
+state of Dick Pental, he was thorough master of his business. Tait came
+into contact with him in a short space of time through the medium of the
+housekeeper.
+
+This individual was a sour old maid, who informed him with some acerbity
+that Mr. Deemer, the present occupant of The Laurels, was away from
+home, and without his permission she could not show him the house.
+Perhaps she suspected Tait's errand, for she looked suspiciously at him,
+and resolutely refused to let him cross the threshold. However, as a
+concession she said he could inspect the grounds, which were well worth
+seeing; and called Dick Pental to show him round. As Tait had really no
+great desire to see the interior of the house, where he would learn
+nothing likely to be of service, and a great desire to speak alone with
+the mad gardener, he thankfully accepted the offer, and was then thrown
+into the company of the very man whom he most desired to see.
+
+Dick Pental was a slender, bright-eyed man, with a dreamy-looking face;
+alert in his movements, and restless with his hands and feet. He did not
+seem unintelligent; but the germs of madness were plainly discernible,
+and Tait guessed that only his constant life in the open air kept him
+from returning to the asylum whence he had been taken by Captain
+Larcher. With justifiable pride this queer creature showed Tait over the
+grounds, but never by word or deed did he hint at the story which he had
+told the waiter. Still hopeful, Tait led the conversation on that
+direction, and finally succeeded in touching the spring in the man's
+brain which made him relate the whole matter. The opportunity occurred
+when the two men were standing on a slight rise overlooking the river.
+Here Tait made a remark concerning the view.
+
+"What a peaceful scene," he said, waving his stick toward the prospect.
+"Corn lands, farmhouses, the square-towered church, and the ferry
+crossing the placid river. I can imagine nothing more homely, or so
+charged with pleasant memories. Here all is peace and quiet, no trouble,
+no danger, no crimes."
+
+Dick thoughtfully rubbed the half crown given him by Tait, and looked
+dreamily at river and sky and opposite shore. To his abnormally active
+brain the scene looked different to what it did to this stranger; and he
+could not forbear alluding to the fact. Moreover, the gentleman had
+given him money, and Dick was greedy, so in the expectation of
+extracting another coin, he hinted that he could tell a startling story
+about this very place.
+
+"Aint you fond of murders, sir?" he asked abruptly, turning his bright
+eyes on Tait.
+
+"No, I don't think I am," replied the other, delighted to think he had
+succeeded in rousing the man's dormant intelligence. "Why do you ask?
+Murder is an ugly word, and can have nothing to do with so peaceful a
+scene as this."
+
+"That's all you know, sir," said Dick eagerly. "Why, I could tell you of
+a murder as I seed myself in this very spot where we are now--or only a
+few yards from it, sir."
+
+Tait glanced at his watch with an affectation of hurry, and shook his
+head. "I am afraid I can't wait," he said artfully. "I must return to
+Horriston in a few minutes."
+
+"It won't take longer nor that to tell. Why, I've told it in ten
+minutes, I have. It's freezer to the blood. A murder at night, too,"
+added Dick, in an agony lest Tait should go away, "with a lantern and a
+corpse--just like you read in novels."
+
+"Hm!" observed Tait skeptically, not yet being sure of the man. "Is it
+true?"
+
+"True as gospel, sir. I wouldn't tell a lie, I wouldn't. I've been
+brought up Methody, you know, sir, and scorn a falsehood as a snare of
+the Old 'Un. You make it worth Dicky's while, sir, and he'll give you
+goose flesh. Oh, that he will."
+
+"Very good," said Tait, throwing himself on the sward. "I don't mind
+hearing the legend of this place. If it is as good as you say I'll give
+you half a sovereign."
+
+"In gold?" asked Dick, with a grasping eagerness.
+
+"In bright gold. See! here is the half sovereign. You tell the story and
+it is yours. Now, then, what is it all about?"
+
+Dick Pental sat down beside Tait, but at some distance away, and
+chuckled as he rubbed his hands. He had a chance of making
+twelve-and-sixpence that morning, and was overjoyed at his good fortune.
+Resolved to begin with a startling remark, he glanced down to see that
+they were alone, and then brought it out.
+
+"I could hang a man, I could," he said cheerfully. "I could hang him
+till he was a deader."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+                     THE STORY OF THE MAD GARDENER.
+
+
+HAVING made this startling announcement, Dick Pental drew back to
+observe the effect on his hearer. Humoring the man's vanity, Tait
+expressed due surprise, and requested him to narrate the circumstance to
+which he referred.
+
+"It is about twenty-five years ago, it is," said Dick, commencing his
+tale in a great hurry; "and I was the gardener here to Captain Larcher.
+You don't know him, sir; it aint to be expected as you should. He was a
+grown gentleman before you were, and a kind 'un he was; took me out of
+the asylum, he did. They said I was mad, you know, and put me into a
+strait waistcoat; but I wasn't a bit wrong in my head, sir, not I.
+Captain Larcher he saw that, so he took me out and made me his gardener.
+And aint I done a lot for the place? just you look round and see."
+
+"Your work is admirable, Dick."
+
+"It is that," replied the man with _naïve_ vanity, "and you aint the
+first as has said that, sir. Oh, I'm fond of the garden, I am; flowers
+are much nicer company than human beings, I think. Not so cross with
+Dicky, you know, sir."
+
+"No doubt," said Tait, seeing that the creature was following the
+wanderings of his poor wits. "But about this murder you----"
+
+"I didn't know anything was wrong," interrupted the gardener earnestly;
+"I'd have kept out of the way if I'd known that; but I came here one
+night when I shouldn't have been here."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"Hot rum and water," confessed Dick, with great simplicity. "I drank
+it--too much of it, and it went to my head. It isn't a strong head, so I
+came here to sleep it clear again. That was about twelve o'clock as near
+as I can tell, but, Lord bless you, my head made no account of time,
+when the hot rum and water was in it. I woke up and I was frightened
+finding myself in the dark,--I hate the dark, don't you, sir?--so I
+finished some rum that I had with me and went to sleep again. Then I
+woke up sudden, I did, and I saw it."
+
+"The murder being committed?"
+
+"No, not quite that! But I saw a man lying on the ground just over
+there, and he didn't move a bit. Another man was holding him in his
+arms, and Denis Bantry was standing by with a lantern."
+
+"Who was the other man?"
+
+"It was a gentleman called Mr. Jeringham. Oh, yes! My head was queer,
+but I knew him by his clothes, I did. I was at the grand ball of the
+gentry, you know; it was there I got drunk--and I saw Mr. Jeringham
+there in black clothes with gold trimmings. He had them on when he bent
+over Captain Larcher."
+
+"How did you know the man on the ground was Captain Larcher?"
+
+"I didn't, then," confessed Dick ingenuously; "but when I heard as they
+found him in the river, I knew it was him, I did. I saw them drop him
+in!"
+
+"Denis Bantry and Mr. Jeringham?" exclaimed Tait, astonished at the
+minuteness of these details.
+
+"Yes. They talked together for a bit, but my head was so queer that I
+couldn't make out what they said. But they picked up Captain Larcher,
+one at the head and the other at the heels, and they dropped him
+in--Splash! he went, he did. I was behind a tree and they couldn't see
+me. Ugh!" said the man, with a shiver, "how I did feel afraid when he
+went splash into the cold water. Then I went away and held my tongue."
+
+"Why did you do that? It was your duty to have come forward and told the
+truth."
+
+Dick Pental put on a cunning look, and shook his head. "Not me, sir," he
+said artfully. "They'd have said my head was queer and put me in an
+asylum again. No, no, Dicky was too clever for them, he was."
+
+"But you say it was Denis Bantry who killed Captain Larcher," said Tait,
+after a moment's reflection. "How do you know that, when you did not see
+the blow struck? It might have been Mr. Jeringham."
+
+Looking lovingly at the piece of gold which was now in his possession,
+Dick shook his head with great vigor.
+
+"It wasn't Mr. Jeringham," he protested. "He was a good, kind gentleman.
+He gave Dicky half a crown the day before. He was fond of Captain
+Larcher's wife, so he couldn't have killed Captain Larcher."
+
+Against this insane reasoning Tait had nothing to urge, as Dicky was
+evidently convinced that Denis Bantry was guilty, to the exclusion of
+Jeringham. Had the former given him money instead of the latter he would
+doubtless have accused Jeringham and sworn to the innocence of Denis.
+The man's brain was too weak to be depended upon; but Tait recognized
+that the report he gave of the occurrence of that fatal night was true
+and faithful in all respects. Dicky was not sufficiently imaginative to
+invent such a story.
+
+Satisfied from the importance of the knowledge he had gained that his
+time had not been wasted, Tait wished to be alone to think out the
+matter. There was some difficulty in getting rid of Dicky, who was still
+greedily expectant of further tips, but in the end he induced the man to
+return to his work, and set out for Horriston at a brisk walk. He always
+thought better when exercising his limbs, and before he reached the town
+he had arrived at several conclusions respecting the case as seen under
+the new light thrown on it by the gardener.
+
+For one thing, he concluded that Paynton was Jeringham. The reason for
+Denis being in his service had been explained by Dick Pental, as the two
+men were bound together by a common bond of guilt. Tait was inclined to
+think that Jeringham was innocent, for if he had killed Larcher there
+would have been no need for Denis to have screened him. On the other
+hand, circumstantial evidence was so strong against Jeringham that, if
+Denis had struck the blow, he would be forced to acquiesce in the
+silence of the real criminal--to become, as it were, an accessory to the
+crime. Denis could have sworn that Jeringham was guilty, and so placed
+him in danger of his life. Thus the two men had a hold on one another;
+Jeringham because circumstances were against him, Denis because he had
+killed Larcher. The motive for the crime was not difficult to discover
+after the story told by Mrs. Bezel. Bantry had killed his master as the
+destroyer of his sister's honor. Under the names of Paynton and Kerry
+the two men were dwelling together at Thorston in loathed companionship,
+each afraid to let the other out of his sight. Tait could imagine no
+more terrible punishment than that enforced comradeship. It reminded him
+of a similar situation in a novel of Zola's, where husband and wife were
+equally culpable, equally afraid, and filled with equal hatred the one
+toward the other.
+
+Still this conclusion, supported as it was by facts, did not explain the
+attitude of Hilliston. Assuming the guilt of Denis Bantry, the
+complicity of Jeringham, there appeared to be no reason why Hilliston
+should protect them at Thorston, and throw obstacles in the way of the
+truth's discovery. Tait was completely nonplussed and could think of no
+explanation. And then he remembered Mrs. Bezel's letter, and the mention
+of Louisa Sinclair. Hilliston, according to Mrs. Bezel, knew this woman,
+and she knew who had committed the crime. But how could she know unless
+she had been concealed, like Dick Pental, in the garden on that night?
+Tait was quite certain that Denis Bantry was guilty, but the hint of
+Mrs. Bezel threatened to disturb this view; and yet what better evidence
+was obtainable than that of an eye-witness. Still Tait remembered that
+Dicky confessed he had not seen the blow struck. What if Louisa Sinclair
+had? That was the question he asked himself.
+
+Under the circumstances it was necessary to find out who this woman was.
+Tait did not judge it wise to ask Hilliston, for the simple reason that
+the lawyer would not admit the truth. There was no obvious reason why he
+should not, but Tait had sufficient experience of Hilliston's trickery
+and evasion in the past to know that his admissions were untrustworthy.
+There only remained for him to search for Louisa Sinclair in Horriston,
+question her if she were alive, or learn all that he could if she were
+dead.
+
+And now occurred a coincidence which unwittingly put Tait on the right
+track. When within half a mile of Horriston he met a clergyman swinging
+along at a good pace, and in him recognized a former college companion.
+The recognition and the delight were mutual.
+
+"My dear Brandon, this is indeed a surprise!" exclaimed Tait, holding
+out his hand. "I had no idea that you were in these parts."
+
+"I have only been vicar here for a year," answered Brandon cordially;
+"but what are you doing at Horriston, my friend?"
+
+"Oh, I have come down partly on business and partly on pleasure."
+
+"Then dismiss business for the moment, and come to luncheon with me. I
+am just going to my house. Where are you staying?"
+
+"At the Royal Victoria."
+
+"A dismal place. You must come frequently to see us while you stay here,
+and we will do what we can to cheer you up. Mrs. Brandon will be
+delighted to see you."
+
+"Oh! So you are married?"
+
+"For the last five years. Two children. Well, I am glad to see you
+again. Do you stay here long?"
+
+"A few days only," replied Tait carelessly; "but it entirely depends on
+my business."
+
+"Anything important?"
+
+"Yes and no. By the way, you may be able to help me, Brandon. Do you
+know anyone in this parish called Miss Louisa Sinclair?"
+
+The vicar reflected for a few moments, and shook his head. "No, I never
+heard the name. She must have been here before my time. Have you any
+reason for wanting to see her?"
+
+"Naturally, or I should not have asked," said Tait, with faint sarcasm.
+"However, I must make a confidant of you, as I wish for your advice and
+assistance."
+
+"I shall be delighted to give both," said his friend briskly. "But here
+we are at my house, and there is my wife in the porch. My dear, this is
+an old college friend of mine, Spenser Tait. We must make him welcome,
+for the days that have been."
+
+Mrs. Brandon, a comfortable, rosy-cheeked matron, with two tiny Brandons
+clinging to her skirts, heartily welcomed Tait, and led the way to the
+dining room. Here an extra knife and fork were hastily produced for the
+guest, and they all sat down to luncheon in the best of spirits. For the
+moment Tait banished all thought of the case from his mind, and laid
+himself out to be agreeable to the vicar's wife. In this he succeeded,
+as she subsequently pronounced him to be a singularly charming man;
+while he pronounced her to be one of the most intelligent women it had
+been his fortune to meet.
+
+After luncheon Brandon conducted Tait to his study, and there, over an
+excellent cigar, the little man related the story of the Larcher affair
+from the time that Claude became possessed of the papers. Needless to
+say the clergyman was much astonished by the recital, and agreed with
+Tait that it was difficult to know which way to turn in the present
+dilemma. He thought that Denis was guilty and Jeringham an accomplice by
+force of circumstances; but doubted whether the existence of Louisa
+Sinclair might not altogether alter the complexion of the case.
+
+"Of course, the difficulty will be to find Louisa Sinclair," he said
+thoughtfully; "five-and-twenty years is a long time to go back to. She
+may be dead."
+
+"So she may," rejoined Tait a trifle tartly; "on the other hand she may
+be alive. I found that waiter and that gardener who were at Horriston
+then. Both remember the case, so it is probable that I shall find this
+woman, or at least gain sufficient information to trace her
+whereabouts."
+
+"I cannot recall her name, Tait. She has not been here in my time.
+Fortunately I can help you in this much; that an old parishioner of mine
+is calling to-day, and, as she has lived here for the last forty years
+and more, it is likely she will remember if such a person dwelt here."
+
+"Who is this old lady?"
+
+"My dear fellow, you must not call her an old lady. It is true she is
+over forty, but--well she is always young and charming in her own eyes.
+Miss Belinda Pike is her name, and I shouldn't like to come under the
+lash of her tongue."
+
+"Is she such a Tartar?"
+
+"She is----My dear fellow, you must not ask me to talk scandal about my
+parishioners; moreover, I see the lady in question is coming up the
+garden path. Once set her tongue going, and you will learn all the
+history of Horriston for the last hundred years."
+
+"I only want to go back twenty-five," rejoined Tait, smiling; and at
+that moment Miss Belinda Pike was announced.
+
+She was a tall, bony female with a hook nose, a false front, and an
+artificial smile. Dressed in voluminous raiment, she bore down on
+Brandon like a frigate in full sail; and proceeded to talk. All the
+time she remained in the study she talked, of herself, of parish work,
+of Dorcas meetings, of scandals new and old; and so astonished Tait by
+the extent of her petty information and the volubility of her tongue
+that he could only stare and wonder. Introduced to him she was
+graciously pleased to observe that she had heard of him and his
+inquiries.
+
+"The waiter, you know, Mr. Tait," she said, smiling at his astonishment.
+ "Sugden is his name; he told me all about you.  Now, why do you wish to
+learn all about that Larcher crime?"
+
+"For amusement merely," replied Tait, rather scandalizing the vicar by
+this answer. "The waiter began to speak of it, and I encouraged him;
+later on I heard the story from a gardener."
+
+"From Dicky Pental," interrupted Miss Pike vivaciously. "Oh, he can
+tell you nothing--he is mad!"
+
+"Mad or not, he told me a great deal."
+
+"All false, no doubt. My dear Mr. Tait," continued the lady
+impressively, "only one person can tell you the truth of that case.
+Myself!"
+
+"Or Louisa Sinclair."
+
+"Louisa Sinclair! What do you know about her?"
+
+"Nothing, save her name," replied Tait; "but I want to know more. Can
+you give me the required information?"
+
+"Yes. Come and have afternoon tea with me to-day, and I'll tell you all.
+ Oh, yes," said Miss Pike, with a self-satisfied nod, "I know who killed
+Captain Larcher."
+
+"Jeringham--Denis, the valet--Hilliston?"
+
+"No. Those three people are innocent.  I can swear to it.  I know it."
+
+"Then who is guilty?"
+
+"Why," said Miss Pike quietly, "Mrs. Larcher's maid--Mona Bantry."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+                        A LETTER FROM HORRISTON.
+
+
+"MY DEAR CLAUDE:
+
+"In my last letter I informed you of my various discoveries with regard
+to the case. I deem myself singularly fortunate in finding those who
+could afford me the necessary information. Five-and-twenty years is a
+wide gap of time, and, to tell the honest truth, I scarcely expected to
+be successful in my mission. Death, absence, old age, might have put an
+end to all who knew about the case, but, as you are already advised, I
+unexpectedly met with three people who gave me three different versions
+of the murder from their various points of view. First, the waiter
+Sugden, who merely reflected the opinion of Dick Pental; second, the
+gardener himself, with his first-hand story; and third, Miss Belinda
+Pike, whose ideas are quite at variance with the other two.
+
+"I mentioned to you that I had met Miss Pike at my friend Brandon's, and
+that she had invited me to visit her the next day to hear her story of
+the case. Of course, I went, and found the lady an excellent character
+for my purpose. She has a truly wonderful memory for the small beer of
+life. She is a born gossip, and is one of the most spiteful women it has
+ever been my fortune to meet. Her invitation was more to satisfy her own
+vanity and curiosity than because she wished to do me a service; but if
+she is gratified in the one she is balked in the other. With some
+difficulty--for she is a most persistent creature--I managed to evade
+her inquiries as to my reason for wishing to know about 'The Larcher
+Affair'; and extracted from her all information likely to be of service
+to us in discovering the truth. What she told me leaves me more in the
+dark than ever; and I shall doubtless return to Thorston no whit nearer
+the truth than I was when I set out.
+
+"But before narrating her story, as imparted to me in strict secrecy,
+you must not be offended if certain reflections are cast by this
+busybody on your mother. To get at the truth of this complication you
+must view it from a disinterested standpoint and throw aside all
+prejudice. I do not for a moment believe that Mrs. Larcher intended to
+willfully deceive her husband, as is implied by Miss Pike, but I must
+confess I think her conduct was highly reprehensible. Still I pass no
+judgment, as it is not my place to do so; and you must clearly
+understand that the remarks herein contained about her are those of Miss
+Pike. You can guess from their tenor what a very spiteful old lady she
+is. I promised to report my doings and hearings faithfully to you, and I
+hereby keep my promise, and at the cost of your losing your temper.
+
+"The cause of Miss Pike's malignity is jealousy--a passion which is as
+active now with her as it was twenty-five years ago. Then the fair
+Belinda, according to her own account, was the belle of Horriston, and
+shared that enviable position with two rivals--the one being your
+mother, the other Miss Louisa Sinclair. I fancy I hear you exclaim at
+the mention of this name. But Mrs. Bezel is right; such a person does
+exist. She was a passably pretty girl,--according to Miss Pike,--and
+rather popular,--again Miss Pike,--but cared for no one so much as Mr.
+Francis Hilliston, then a handsome young lawyer of great promise and
+good family. This is evidently the romance of Hilliston's life, and
+accounts for his silence about Louisa Sinclair. He did not wish to speak
+of one who had disappeared under somewhat discreditable circumstances;
+yet who truly loved him. Whether he returned her love I cannot say.
+Suspend your judgment till you hear the story of this maiden lady. Of
+course, it is quite different to that of Dick Pental, and, I think, less
+easy to believe. The gardener spoke of what he saw; Miss Pike speaks of
+what she thinks. Judge for yourself which is right.
+
+"As I have said, Miss Pike was a belle in her younger days. She was also
+well off, and could have made a good match. Unfortunately, she was in
+love with Hilliston; I say unfortunately, because he happened to be in
+love with Mrs. Larcher. I again apologize for putting the matter so
+plainly, but Miss Pike insisted that it was so. In those days Hilliston
+must have been a handsome and fascinating man, for Louisa Sinclair also
+loved him--with a like result. He had no eyes for these two damsels, but
+quietly devoted himself to Mrs. Larcher. I do not mean to say that he
+roused the suspicions of your father, for his devotion was perfectly
+respectful. The desire of the moth for the star, I may say--for
+Hilliston knew well enough that he had no chances in that quarter for
+two reasons. First, Mrs. Larcher was a married woman; second, she was in
+love with Jeringham.
+
+"At the time of that notable dress ball matters stood thus:
+
+"Miss Belinda Pike in love with Hilliston.
+
+"Miss Louisa Sinclair in love with Hilliston.
+
+"Hilliston in love with Mrs. Larcher.
+
+"Mrs. Larcher in love with Jeringham.
+
+"Can you imagine anything more complicated; and to make confusion still
+worse, Miss Pike solemnly asserted that Jeringham was not in love with
+Mrs. Larcher, but with her maid, Mona Bantry. Therefore, all round, each
+of these five people was in love with the wrong person. It was a modern
+'Comedy of Errors,' with a tragic ending.
+
+"Miss Pike went to the ball in the character of a flower girl, and there
+was astonished to find two Mary, Queen of Scots, and two Darnleys.
+During the night she learned that out of jealousy Louisa Sinclair had
+adopted the same fancy dress as your mother. She was the second Queen of
+Scots, and was attired precisely the same in all respects, save that
+Mrs. Larcher wore a small dagger, and Miss Sinclair did not. On making
+this discovery Miss Pike naturally thought--as a jealous woman
+would--that the second Darnley was Hilliston. She knew that the first
+was Jeringham, and did not trouble herself about him, but maneuvered to
+get speech with the second. To her astonishment she found out--how I
+cannot say--that it was Captain Larcher, who was supposed to be in
+London. He confessed that he was jealous of his wife, and had returned
+in disguise to learn the truth. Miss Pike was not clear whether he was
+suspicious of Jeringham or of Hilliston, and she had no opportunity of
+learning the truth as Larcher, seeing his wife leave the ballroom,
+followed her at once. The next day Miss Pike was informed of the
+disappearance of Jeringham, and later on she learned of the death of
+Captain Larcher.
+
+"Now, you will ask whom she suspected. A woman with so unhappy a temper
+would not be long in forming an opinion about a matter connected with a
+lady of whom she was jealous. I allude to your mother. Miss Pike had a
+theory, and ever since, declining to accept the evidence given at the
+trial, has held firmly to it. She suspected Mona Bantry to be guilty. I
+give her reason in her own words.
+
+"'Of course it is only theory,' she said, when I asked her pointblank
+who she thought was guilty, 'but my suspicions point to Mrs. Larcher's
+maid.'
+
+"'To Mona Bantry?' I asked, rather astonished.
+
+"'Yes! She was in love with Mr. Jeringham, and he was at the ball
+dressed as Darnley; Captain Larcher wore the same dress. As I told you
+he left the ballroom when he saw his wife go out with Mr. Jeringham. I
+fancy he followed them home, and caught them as they parted in the
+garden of The Laurels. Very likely he ordered Mr. Jeringham off the
+premises, and insisted on his wife going into the house. Mona, who was
+sitting up for her mistress, would open the door, and seeing by the
+dress, as she thought, Mr. Jeringham with Mrs. Larcher, I believe she
+lost her head and killed him.'
+
+"'Killed him; but how?'
+
+"'With the dagger worn by Mrs. Larcher,' responded Miss Pike
+triumphantly. 'She snatched it from the sheath as it hung at the girdle
+of Mrs. Larcher, and killed the poor man--thinking he was her lover.
+Then, finding out her mistake, she fled.
+
+"'But so did Jeringham,' I said.
+
+"'Yes. He also saw the murder, and naturally enough thought he might be
+suspected. I think he took Mona away with him on the very night, and
+they fled together. As to the body, Denis, the brother, to save his
+sister and possibly his mistress from being suspected, threw it into the
+river. That is my theory, Mr. Tait, and I believe it to be the true
+one.'
+
+"I need not repeat more of our conversation, as it was merely argument
+on both sides, but you now know sufficient to see in what direction Miss
+Pike's suspicions are directed. Her story is quite at variance with that
+of your mother, who plainly stated that she found Mona in the sitting
+room with your father. It is not strange that the two narrations should
+be contradictory, for we must remember that Mrs. Larcher spoke from
+facts while Miss Pike only speaks from hearsay.
+
+"Again, from the statement of Dick Pental, it would appear that the
+murder took place in the garden; your mother says it was committed in
+the sitting room, so here is another contradiction. But you must not
+forget that only one person has sworn to the identity of those he saw
+with the body. Miss Pike can prove nothing from facts, and only evolves
+accusations out of her own malignant nature. Your mother accuses no one,
+alleging that she fainted in the sitting room. Therefore, taking all
+facts into consideration, I believe the gardener's story to be true, and
+that Denis Bantry killed your father; Jeringham, through force of
+circumstances, being an accessory to the deed. This view accounts for
+the identity of Paynton with Jeringham, of Kerry with Denis--and fully
+accounts for their living in seclusion at Thorston. This is my opinion.
+Do you think you can give a better?
+
+"Regarding your mother's hint about Louisa Sinclair, I confess I cannot
+understand it. Miss Pike was perfectly frank about that person; and
+stated that shortly after the murder she went to America and had not
+been heard of for years. Hilliston may know of her whereabouts, but
+under the circumstances I do not think he is likely to speak. At all
+events we are certain of two things: that Louisa Sinclair did not marry
+Hilliston; that she had nothing to do with the tragedy at The Laurels.
+Miss Pike intends to show me a portrait of the lady on the occasion of
+my next visit. A knowledge of her looks may lead to something; but
+honestly speaking I do not see how she can possibly be implicated in the
+matter.
+
+"But I must bring this long letter to a close. I have found out
+sufficient at Horriston to justify our suspicions of the _ménage_ at
+Rose Cottage, and when I return we must set our wits to work to see
+Paynton and Kerry. They must be forced into plain speaking, then we may
+solve the mystery of your father's death--not before. Expect me in two
+days, and think over what I have written so that we may discuss the
+matter thoroughly when we come together. And so no more at present from
+your friend,
+
+                                                     "SPENSER TAIT."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+                     THE ORIGINAL OF THE PORTRAIT.
+
+
+CLAUDE LARCHER was blessed with the best of tempers, and strongly gifted
+with self-control. He found these virtues very necessary in his
+profession, especially when in command of a body of men in the wilds.
+There no trouble ruffled him, no disappointment depressed his spirits;
+he was always serene and amiable, so that among his comrades his good
+temper had become proverbial. Had they seen him at this moment they
+would have found reason to alter their opinion.
+
+The case wore out his patience; he saw no end to the complications
+arising therefrom. No sooner was one obstacle surmounted than another
+blocked up the path. But for Tait he would have taken Hilliston's advice
+long ago, and let the matter lie; but the little man was bent on solving
+this particularly tantalizing mystery, and so urged his friend to
+persevere in what seemed to be futile attempts. So far Claude had held
+to his resolve, but this last letter of Tait's with its budget of new
+complications threw him into a rage. He vowed that he would throw up the
+matter as soon as Tait returned. His father was dead, and there was an
+end of it; after five-and-twenty years nothing whatever could be
+discovered; and above all there was Jenny.
+
+Claude was too clear-sighted to disguise from himself the fact that he
+was in love; and now enlightened by Mrs. Hilliston regarding the
+feelings of the young lady, he was doubly anxious to make her his wife.
+Before he could do so he had to remove an obstacle in the shape of her
+father, and that was no easy matter. Who Mr. Paynton was he did not
+know; whether he was implicated in the Larcher affair he could not
+guess; but of one thing he was certain: that Mr. Paynton resented his
+prosecution of the case. While he continued to investigate the mystery
+the recluse would continue inimical, and would therefore refuse to
+permit him to pay attentions to his daughter.
+
+Regarding Linton and his love, Claude had no fears. He had been assured
+by Mrs. Hilliston that Jenny liked him best, and taking advantage of the
+hint he had thrown himself as frequently as possible into the society of
+his beloved. Did Jenny go to the vicarage, Claude was there under the
+pretense of questioning the clergyman concerning the architecture of the
+church; did she practice on the organ, Claude was always waiting at the
+door to carry her music-book to Rose Cottage. A walk in the morning, he
+was in the vicinity; a stroll in the evening, and he appeared
+unexpectedly round the nearest corner. In driving, riding, walking,
+visiting, this persistent young man was constantly to be found near Miss
+Jenny Paynton. All this meant infatuation.
+
+Availing himself of the opportunities thus afforded, he learned her
+secret, and betrayed his own. Without a word being said on either
+side--with the shadow of the case between them--these two young people
+fell in love with one another. When Tait returned two days after his
+last letter, he was confronted by Claude with the intimation that he
+wished to stop further investigations. Tait, who was devoured by an
+unappeasable curiosity to find out the truth, resented this backsliding,
+and told Claude his opinion very plainly. But for their long friendship
+they would have quarreled over the matter; as it was Tait argued out the
+question, and induced Claude to come round to his way of thinking. But
+it was a hard task.
+
+"You are not going to turn back after putting your hand to the plow?" he
+said, when Claude first broached the subject of abandoning the case.
+
+"Why not, if the plow won't move?" returned the young man flippantly.
+
+"The plow will move," returned Tait vehemently. "You got my last
+letter?"
+
+"I did. But I don't see that it contains anything likely to elucidate
+the mystery. Your Dick Pental is a madman; your Miss Pike an
+untrustworthy gossip."
+
+"That is your opinion, not mine. I have made a discovery since writing
+my last letter, of which I have not yet had time to inform you."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I'll tell you later on. Meanwhile is it on account of this girl that
+you have decided to abandon the case?"
+
+"Partly, and partly because I think we are wasting time. Our
+investigation can lead to no result."
+
+"We may find out who killed your father."
+
+"I doubt that," replied Larcher coolly. "You suspect Hilliston; you
+suspect Jeringham; you suspect Mona Bantry. Why, in your last letter you
+hinted at the guilt of Denis, simply because a drunken lunatic told you
+a wild story; yet, so far as I can see, you have not a morsel of
+evidence against any one of the four."
+
+"You are wrong," said Tait, in an argumentative manner. "The misfortune
+is that there is too much evidence against them all. I could furnish you
+with a case against each which--so far as circumstantial evidence is
+concerned--would convince you of their individual guilt."
+
+"Theory, Tait, theory!"
+
+"We'll prove that soon, my boy," said Tait, with exasperating coolness,
+"if you back out of the case, I at least am determined to see it
+through. I suppose you are bent on marrying the young lady."
+
+"If she'll have me--yes."
+
+"Humph! There's another obstacle which you have overlooked. The consent
+of her father--our mysterious friend, Paynton."
+
+"I have not overlooked the obstacle. I will obtain his consent from his
+own lips."
+
+"And how do you intend to see him?"
+
+"Through the agency of Mr. Hilliston," replied Larcher calmly. "He has
+agreed to introduce me to Paynton to-morrow. Here is his letter."
+
+The little man fairly bounded from his chair, and he took the letter
+from his friend's hand with an air of bewilderment. After mastering the
+contents he returned it with a satisfied nod.
+
+"I congratulate you, Claude," he said, with a good-humored air. "Though
+you failed with the man, you may succeed with the matter. But how in the
+name of Olympian Jove did you induce Hilliston to do this?"
+
+"Why, he saw that I was in love with Jenny, and for some inexplicable
+reason has agreed to forward my suit, by introducing me to plead my
+cause with the father."
+
+"Not so inexplicable as you think," said Tait sagaciously. "I see his
+idea. He thinks you will be so occupied with love-making as to abandon
+the case."
+
+"I don't know that he isn't right."
+
+"Oh, I see you are bent on getting quit of the matter, Claude. But," and
+Tait shook a reproving forefinger, "you will change your mind after this
+interview with our hermit friend."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"You will learn something which will astonish you. I only wish I could
+be present with you to see what occurs."
+
+"But if I make no reference to the case," said Larcher seriously.
+
+Tait waxed indignant on the instant, and spoke his mind freely. "Claude,
+my friend, I went into this matter solely on your account, and you owe
+it to me to see it through. If you find further investigation a bar to
+your marriage I will agree to let the matter drop. But first," added
+Tait, with emphasis, "you must make an effort to get the truth out of
+this man. Swear to him that you are resolved to push the matter to the
+end. Tell him that I have learned something new at Horriston. Mention
+the name of Louisa Sinclair. Then see the result. After hearing the
+story of Dicky Pental I am convinced that this man is Jeringham."
+
+"I will do all you say," replied Claude, after some hesitation, "but I
+am afraid that my pertinacity in this matter will prejudice my wooing."
+
+"If, at the end of the interview, you see that, withdraw your intention
+to go on with the case. Then out of gratitude he may give you his
+daughter. Bluff him first--yield afterward. In that way we may discover
+who Paynton is--what he has to do with the case, and why he is connected
+with Hilliston. Do you agree? Good! Give me your hand on that."
+
+The two men shook hands, though it was not without a secret qualm that
+Claude thus sealed the compact. After a pause he said:
+
+"And who is this Louisa Sinclair you make such a point of my mentioning
+to Paynton?"
+
+"Ah! That is my discovery," said Tait, rubbing his hands. "When I
+interviewed Mrs. Bezel I showed her a portrait of Mrs. Hilliston, whom
+curiously enough she had never seen--no doubt Hilliston has his reasons
+therefor. She seemed startled, but said nothing. Then she wrote to you
+about Louisa Sinclair."
+
+"But what has Louisa Sinclair to do with Mrs. Hilliston?"
+
+"Can't you guess? Miss Pike showed me a portrait of Louisa Sinclair
+taken twenty-five years ago. I did not then wonder at Mrs. Bezel's
+start, or that Hilliston had refrained from letting her see the picture
+of his wife. In a word, Louisa Sinclair and Mrs. Hilliston are one and
+the same woman."
+
+"Ah!" cried Claude, with a sudden recollection, "it was for that she was
+so afraid of your going to Horriston."
+
+"Yes. She thought I might learn too much. This is the beginning of the
+end, Claude."
+
+"What! Do you think Mrs. Hilliston knows anything of the case?"
+
+"According to your mother she knows a good deal. According to Miss Pike
+she is in possession of certain facts. Yes, I think Mrs. Hilliston can
+help us if she will."
+
+"But, my dear Tait," said Claude quietly, "Mrs. Hilliston is an
+American."
+
+"Ah! Louisa Sinclair went to America, and probably became a naturalized
+subject of the Stars and Stripes."
+
+"But," objected Larcher, "she was a widow when she married Hilliston."
+
+"So I believe. A Mrs. Derrick. No doubt she came by all her money
+through that first marriage. Oh, I can put the puzzle easily together.
+No wonder Hilliston wanted the case dropped, both on his own account and
+on that of his wife."
+
+"What do you mean, Tait? Do you suspect that----"
+
+"Say no more," said Tait, rising, "I will tell you what I mean after you
+have seen Paynton. But then," added he significantly, "I don't think you
+will need any explanation."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+                        A STRANGE THING HAPPENS.
+
+
+THE next morning Claude received a second letter from Hilliston, stating
+that as his wife was ill he would be unable to come over to Thorston,
+but directing the young man to go to Rose Cottage at noon, when Mr.
+Paynton would be ready to receive him. Tait regretted that he had not
+been included in the invitation, and carefully instructed Claude how to
+act during the interview.
+
+"I believe Paynton can settle the matter," were his parting words, "so
+put love out of your head for the time being, and do your best to
+extract the truth."
+
+Anxious to oblige one who took so much interest in his private affairs,
+Larcher promised to do what he could, and shortly after eleven started
+for Rose Cottage. As a matter of fact, he need not have gone so soon,
+but he did so in the hope of meeting with Jenny. Well acquainted as he
+was with her movements, his surmise proved correct, for he met the young
+lady at the end of Nightingale Lane. She blushed, and expressed surprise
+at the meeting. But such feigning is part of love's comedy.
+
+"I did not expect to see you here, Mr. Larcher," she said, after the
+first greetings had passed between them. "Where are you going?"
+
+"I am about to call on your father."
+
+"Really!" said Jenny, with some perplexity and more doubt. "I am afraid
+you go on a useless errand. My father sees no one."
+
+"He will see me," replied Claude quietly. "I come by appointment. Mr.
+Hilliston spoke to your father, with the result that he has agreed to
+see me."
+
+"Has your visit anything to do with--with that novel?"
+
+"It has everything to do with it. I wish to ask Mr. Paynton some
+questions in connection with my father's death."
+
+"But he knows nothing--nothing!" cried Jenny vehemently; "he can tell
+you nothing! It is worse than useless for you to speak to him on the
+subject. You will only make him ill."
+
+"But I have to speak to him on another subject," said Claude artfully.
+
+Jenny looked up inquiringly, remarked the passion in his gaze, and
+turned away her face with a blush. Much as she would have liked to, she
+found it impossible to appear ignorant of his meaning.
+
+"It seems to me that I am the person to be first consulted," she said,
+with a pout.
+
+"Jenny, I----"
+
+"Hush! Here is Kerry. See my father first, and then see me. Till then
+good-by."
+
+She flitted rapidly away, and turned the corner of the lane as Kerry,
+more crabbed-looking than ever, came up to where Claude was standing. It
+was then that Larcher saw that the old servant was suffering under some
+strong emotion. His eyes were brighter than usual, his lips quivered,
+and he was so nervous that he could keep neither limbs nor body at rest.
+Rightly connecting this agitation with his visit, Claude wisely held his
+peace, and waited to hear what Kerry had to say.
+
+"You'll be after seeing the master, sir," said Kerry, in breathless
+anxiety. "He is waiting for you, sir, in the garden."
+
+"I was just on my way there, Kerry, and stopped to speak for a few
+minutes to Miss Jenny. I am very glad that Mr. Paynton has consented to
+see me."
+
+"And you may well be glad, Master Claude."
+
+"Master Claude!" echoed the young man, stopping short.
+
+"Oh, blazes! 'twas a slip of the tongue, sir," cried Kerry anxiously.
+"Don't notice it, sir. Sure, it's old I am, and my mind wanders."
+
+"Then you deny that you are Denis Bantry?"
+
+"Say nothing of that, sir. Let the master speak his own mind to you.
+You'll know soon enough who I am, and that's a fact, anyhow."
+
+"I am convinced in my own mind that you are my father's old servant,"
+said Larcher, as he resumed his walk, "but who your master is I am not
+so clear."
+
+Kerry shook his head, and pursed up his lips, as though determined to
+let no information escape him. They walked along in silence, and it was
+only when he unlocked the gate in the red brick wall that Kerry again
+opened his mouth.
+
+"Keep silent, sir, if you love me," he said, in a low tone. "Don't
+agitate the master. He'll do the speaking, and tell ye all ye wish to
+know. Begad, and more too."
+
+Larcher nodded, and passed into the garden. The morning was warm and
+sunny, and the colors of the flowers were dazzling in the warm glow,
+against the white walls of the cottage. With his hands clasped behind
+his back, Paynton paced meditatively up and down the path before the
+house, but stopped as he caught sight of his visitor. Taking off his hat
+in tribute to the venerable looks of the old gentleman, Claude bowed,
+and waited to be addressed. For some moments Paynton looked at him in
+silence, with much emotion, then controlling himself with some
+difficulty held out his hand.
+
+"I am glad to see you, Mr.--Mr.----"
+
+"Larcher," suggested Claude, seeing his host at a loss for the name.
+
+"Larcher!" gasped Paynton, with an effort, "yes--yes! My friend, Mr.
+Hilliston, advised me of your coming. Let us enter the house. We will
+have more privacy there."
+
+As Claude knew no one was about in that walled place but Kerry and the
+deaf old housekeeper, he wondered what further privacy was necessary;
+but considering that Paynton had doubtless good reason for his action,
+he bowed silently and followed him within, as requested.
+
+In a few minutes they were in the bookroom. Paynton seated himself in
+such a position as to place his back to the strong light shining through
+the window, and asked Claude to be seated in a chair which lacked this
+advantage. In this way Paynton could observe every change in the face of
+his visitor, while his own, being in the shadow, was more difficult to
+read. Larcher saw the maneuver, but did not think it necessary to make
+any objection. In his place Tait would have acted differently.
+
+"I am greatly obliged that you have consented to see me," said Claude,
+breaking the silence, "for I am informed that you live a very secluded
+life."
+
+"That is true. I accord you this interview at the request of my friend,
+Mr. Hilliston, but at the same time I may tell you that I have my own
+reasons for granting it."
+
+"I think I can guess your reasons, Mr. Paynton."
+
+"No doubt," replied Paynton, touching a book on the table; "they are not
+unconnected with this novel. You know, of course, that my daughter--that
+Jenny supplied young Linton with the material for his plot."
+
+"I do. She found the report of my father's murder in some old newspapers
+in this house."
+
+"Did you not think it strange that I should be in possession of such a
+report?"
+
+"Naturally I did," answered Claude, replying to this direct question
+with marked embarrassment, "and it is on that account that I ask you to
+help me."
+
+"Do you think I can do so?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"Why?" asked Paynton, in an unsteady voice.
+
+"Because you know about the matter. You retained the report of the
+trial. Denis Bantry is in your service under the name of Kerry, and----"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Why, in the third volume of that book there is an episode of a scarfpin
+which is not mentioned in the report of the trial, but which was told to
+Miss Paynton by the man you call Kerry. Now, only two persons knew that
+a scarfpin was picked up in the grounds of The Laurels after the murder.
+One was Hilliston, the other Denis Bantry. You must see, Mr. Paynton,
+that I can only come to one conclusion."
+
+"I presume you got this information from Hilliston," said Paynton, in an
+altered voice.
+
+"Mr. Hilliston spoke of it," replied Claude cautiously.
+
+He did not intend to reveal that he had heard it from his mother, or
+indeed to reveal the existence of Mrs. Larcher until he was sure of his
+ground, and positive of Paynton's identity. Accepting his diplomatic
+answer in the affirmative, Paynton nodded, and went on with his
+questioning.
+
+"You spoke to Kerry on the subject?"
+
+"I did. But, as you may guess, I failed."
+
+"Naturally. Kerry is a faithful servant. I owe more to him than I can
+ever repay. But here we are talking about the murder," added Paynton
+irrelevantly, "when you wish to speak about Jenny, at least so Hilliston
+informed me."
+
+"I do wish to speak of your daughter later on," said Claude, with a
+flushed cheek; "but in the meantime I am anxious to come to an
+understanding about this crime."
+
+"Why?" said Paynton, rather disconcerted at his failure to turn the
+conversation.
+
+"Because I have sworn to avenge the death of my father."
+
+"That is what a good son should do," said Paynton thoughtfully. "But
+after twenty-five years the chances are small. You wish to find the
+murderer--so do I."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Yes. I am more deeply interested in this matter than you suppose. Who
+do you think I am?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot say, unless you are Jeringham."
+
+"Jeringham?" said Paynton in a faltering tone. "No, I am not Jeringham,
+poor soul! Do you think him guilty of the crime?"
+
+"I do and I don't. Sometimes it seems so, at others I fancy Hilliston to
+be guilty."
+
+"Hilliston guilty!" said Paynton, rising. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, it is only a theory," said Claude hastily. "But my friend Tait, who
+was at Horriston a few days ago, found out all kinds of things which
+implicated one person and another. He found----"
+
+"Don't tell me--don't tell me," said Paynton hastily. "I cannot talk to
+you longer or else I shall be ill. This interview has already tried me
+too much. Here," he added, unlocking a drawer in his desk, "take these
+papers. You will find in them a full account of all I know of the
+matter."
+
+"You were, then, an eye-witness?" said Claude, joyfully slipping the
+roll of manuscript into his pocket. He had been more successful than he
+had hoped to be.
+
+Paynton pressed his hands together, and looked eagerly at Claude. "I can
+bear it no longer," he said impatiently, laying his hands on the
+shoulders of the astonished young man. "Boy--boy, can you not guess who
+I am?"
+
+"No," replied Larcher, rising to his feet in some wonder, "I do not know
+who you can be, unless you are Jeringham."
+
+"I am not Jeringham. He is dead."
+
+"Dead!"
+
+"Aye, murdered. Can you not see--can you not guess? Claude, the man who
+was killed at Horriston was not George Larcher, it was Mark Jeringham!"
+
+"But you--you----"
+
+"I am your father!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+                        A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE.
+
+
+IT was close on two o'clock, and, weary of waiting for Claude, the
+master of the Manor House had seated himself at the luncheon table. He
+was curious to know what had taken place between his friend and Mr.
+Paynton, as he judged from the length of time the interview had lasted
+that some important communication must have been made. Had Claude
+discovered the identity of Paynton with Jeringham? If so, had Jeringham
+confessed to the crime? These questions so annoyed and perplexed Tait
+that he could not swallow a mouthful of food. Throwing aside his napkin
+he rose from the table to see if Larcher had returned.
+
+As he pushed back his chair the door opened and Claude, with a roll of
+papers in his hand, made his appearance. Tait turned to greet him with a
+smile, but it disappeared from his face and the words died on his lips
+when he saw the white and haggard countenance of his friend.
+
+"Good Heavens, man!" he cried, hastening toward him; "what is the
+matter? Here, sit down! Drink this glass of wine!"
+
+Claude did as he was bidden; then waved his hand in the direction of
+Dormer, who, stolid as ever, stood waiting orders.
+
+"You can go, Dormer," said Tait hastily. Then, when the man leaving the
+room closed the door after him, and they found themselves alone, he
+continued: "Is anything wrong, Claude? Did Paynton tell----"
+
+"Not Paynton," said Larcher, finishing his wine and setting down the
+glass; "there is not such a person!"
+
+"Aha!" remarked Tait, rubbing his hands. "I thought the name was a
+feigned one. And who is our friend, Mr. Paynton?"
+
+"My father!"
+
+Tait opened his mouth to utter an ejaculation, shut it without doing so,
+and looked dumfounded at his friend.
+
+"What--what--what do you mean? Are you mad?" he stammered, sitting down
+limply.
+
+"No, I am not mad," groaned Claude, "though I have suffered enough to
+make me so. I mean what I say. It was Jeringham who was murdered.
+Jeringham, who was dressed as Darnley on that night, as was my father.
+Jeringham, whose corpse was so unrecognizable by decomposition that it
+was thought to be that of George Larcher. My father is alive! My father
+is hiding here as Ferdinand Paynton. This is his story of the tragedy."
+
+He placed the roll of paper in Tait's hands, and poured himself out
+another glass of wine. Overcome with amazement the little man looked
+first at the paper, then at his friend. It was some minutes before he
+could collect his wits together and speak coherently.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing," he said at length. "You thought both your
+parents dead, but now it seems they are alive. Your mother at Clarence
+Cottage, Hampstead; your father at Rose Cottage, Thorston. Did you tell
+your father that Mrs. Larcher was still in existence?" he asked sharply.
+
+"I had no time to do so," said Claude, with an effort. "My father placed
+those papers in my hand, and then confessed who he was. I wished to
+speak further to him, but he pushed me out of the room, saying, 'Read
+that confession, and form your judgment before you accept me as your
+father.' I hardly knew what I was doing till I found myself in the lane
+outside. Then I came on here. I still feel quite bewildered."
+
+"I don't wonder at it! Take another glass of wine. Did your----"
+
+"Don't ask any questions, Tait," said Claude, rising impatiently. "Read
+me the confession at once. I can't do it myself."
+
+"Won't you have some luncheon?"
+
+"No! Every mouthful would choke me. I'll lie down on the sofa, and you
+bring your chair close to me to read."
+
+Tait nodded, and unrolled the papers, while Claude, filling himself
+another glass of claret, crossed over to the sofa and lay down thereon.
+With the glass of wine on the carpet beside him; with the untasted
+luncheon on the table, he closed his eyes with a weary sigh, and
+compelled himself to listen. Tait glanced sympathetically at him, then
+without remark, though he was burning to speak, smoothed out the paper
+and began to read slowly. The writing was clear and legible, the matter
+interesting, so there was no difficulty in deciphering the story of the
+tragedy, as narrated by the man, who, for twenty-two years, had been
+supposed to be the victim. The confession (so-called) was in the form of
+a letter from father to son:
+
+        "DEAR CLAUDE:
+
+    "At length I have made up my mind to reveal myself to you, and
+    to set out at length the circumstances which placed me in this
+    position. I am led to do so by three things. Firstly, your
+    presence in this neighborhood with the avowed intention of
+    avenging my death. Secondly, the publication of the novel
+    entitled 'A Whim of Fate,' which sets out the particulars of
+    what happened at Horriston in 1866, more or less perverted for
+    fictional purposes. Thirdly, the advice of Francis Hilliston, an
+    old and valued friend, who points out that the only way to stop
+    you in the investigation is to admit my identity, and so do away
+    with your motive, viz., the avenging of my death. On reading
+    this I leave it to yourself whether you will still consider me
+    your father, and visit me accordingly, or whether you will look
+    on me as a guilty man. Till you are acquainted with the truth,
+    so far as I am aware of it, I swear that I will not approach you
+    or open my mouth in your presence. On this understanding I set
+    forth the following facts as shortly as is consistent with
+    clearness. Judge me as you please, but I declare before God that
+    I am innocent of Jeringham's death, and that I know not who
+    killed him. This for the prologue; and now for the story.
+
+    "You will understand that I wish to cast no aspersions on the
+    memory of your mother; but in the present case, it is necessary
+    that I should speak plainly. Your mother and I were ill suited
+    to one another, and lived unhappily together. Even when in the
+    army I was addicted to literary pursuits, and, when I sent in my
+    papers, I devoted myself almost entirely to study. Your mother
+    was gay and social. Being a beautiful woman she liked
+    admiration, and was never so happy as when out at balls, at the
+    theater, or at garden parties. She lived in a whirl of
+    excitement, and she quarreled bitterly with me because I
+    preferred a quieter life. I accompanied her sometimes, but not
+    often enough to please her, and when we came to reside at The
+    Laurels after my leaving the army, she frequently declared that
+    she regretted having given up Mark Jeringham for me. Naturally
+    enough I resented this plain speaking, and we were estranged.
+    Not even your birth could bridge over the abyss between us, and,
+    while we lived at The Laurels at Horriston, I believe we were as
+    unhappy and ill-matched a couple as existed in England. It was
+    the quick coupled with the dead, and we both suffered
+    accordingly.
+
+    "The first cause of our unhappiness was, as you see,
+    incompatibility of temper; the second was the presence of
+    Jeringham, who came to Horriston ostensibly on a visit, in
+    reality to stay near my wife.
+
+    "You can easily understand that I resented the presence of this
+    young man. He was remarkably like me in height, figure, and
+    looks, and my wife had a fancy for him before her marriage with
+    me. That she became my wife, she laughingly avowed, was because
+    of my uniform. So far as looks were concerned there was nothing
+    to choose between Jeringham and myself, but the glitter of the
+    military trappings (so she declared) turned the balance in my
+    favor. You may be sure I liked Jeringham none the more after
+    such a declaration of lukewarm affection from your mother; and
+    when he came to reside at Horriston, four years after our
+    marriage, I resented his continued presence about the house.
+    Your mother was angry at my expostulations, and the introduction
+    of this second element of discord into the house estranged us
+    more widely than ever. It was a miserable and most unhappy time.
+
+    "It was my friend Hilliston who pointed out the real reason for
+    Jeringham's visits. This latter was not in love with my wife,
+    but with her maid, Mona Bantry. As Denis, the brother of Mona,
+    was an old servant of mine, I did not care to speak to my wife
+    on the matter, but to keep the affair quiet, and to save the
+    girl from the anger of her brother, I discouraged the visits of
+    Jeringham on all possible occasions. We had a quarrel in public,
+    and, as all the gossips of Horriston knew that he had been fond
+    of my wife before her marriage to me, the quarrel was set down
+    to jealousy on my part. All the neighborhood knew there was bad
+    blood between Jeringham and myself, and (foolishly enough, I
+    admit) I made use of several expressions calculated to show my
+    hatred. These heated speeches were afterward remembered and
+    commented upon.
+
+    "Things were in this position when the fancy dress ball took
+    place at Horriston. Hearing that it was to be a masked ball, I
+    resolved to assume a similar dress to that of Jeringham, and
+    learn from my wife's own lips if she still cared for me. You may
+    think I acted in an unworthy manner, but as a matter of fact I
+    was nearly out of my mind with anger and jealousy, and hardly
+    knew what I was doing. My wife was going to the ball as Mary,
+    Queen of Scots, accompanied by Jeringham as Darnley. This was
+    sufficiently pointed to show in what direction her affections
+    leaned, and I took advantage of the opportunity. Feigning an
+    excuse, I ostensibly went to London, but in reality remained at
+    Horriston, where I obtained from the costumer a similar dress to
+    that worn by Jeringham.
+
+    "Thus masked and disguised I repaired to the ball. There I was
+    recognized by a Miss Belinda Pike, but she kindly consented to
+    keep my secret. You can guess what happened. Deceived by the
+    dress my wife took me for Jeringham, and I learned sufficient to
+    know that she loved him and hated me. I did not reveal myself,
+    but went away mad with wrath. My sole idea was to unmask
+    Jeringham, and show my wife how unworthy he was of her love. To
+    this end I sought out Hilliston, and, learning that my wife was
+    shortly returning home, Hilliston and I went to The Laurels
+    together, as I intended to make Mona confess that Jeringham was
+    her lover. I left Hilliston outside in the garden to watch for
+    the coming of my wife, and entered the house to see Mona. She
+    was waiting in the sitting room for her mistress, and I then and
+    there forced her to admit the truth. She declared that Jeringham
+    was the father of her unborn child, and implored me not to tell
+    her brother. Fortunately, I had directed Denis to stay in the
+    entrance hall, so he did not hear his sister's confession, and
+    she was safe for the time being.
+
+    "While I was talking with Mona, my wife entered. She immediately
+    accused me of having feigned a visit to London in order to stay
+    at home with Mona. The girl slipped out of the room, and my wife
+    continued her ravings. She said that Jeringham had come home
+    with her and was at that moment in the garden; there she swore
+    to join him. I prevented her leaving the room, and ultimately
+    she fainted. I ran out to call Mona, and found that she had left
+    the house, no doubt to join Jeringham in the garden, to tell him
+    that the secret was known. I also went into the garden to seek
+    for Jeringham. To my horror I stumbled over a dead body, and
+    hastily ran back for a light to see whose it was. Denis came
+    with the lantern, and we found it was the corpse of Jeringham.
+    He had been stabbed to the heart.
+
+    "I would have given the alarm, but that Denis, quicker-witted
+    than I at the moment, prevented me. He pointed out that it was
+    well-known that I was on bad terms with Jeringham; that the
+    unhappy man had been murdered in my garden; that my hands were
+    red with the blood, and my clothes stained owing to handling the
+    corpse; and said that I would be accused of the murder. I saw in
+    a flash the peril in which I stood. I don't know if Denis
+    suspected me of the crime, as he was not present when I first
+    found the body, but he acted the part of a friend. We threw the
+    body into the river and I made my preparations for flight. No
+    one but Hilliston and Miss Pike knew that I had returned from
+    London on that night, for my wife would keep silence, as I
+    thought, for her own sake, and Mona had disappeared. I left the
+    house in charge of Denis, and without a word to my wife, who had
+    brought about this catastrophe, I sought safety in flight. It
+    was cowardly, if you like, but I had no other resource. I would
+    have been accused of the murder had I stayed, for the evidence
+    was strong against me. I fled and trusted to chance to hide the
+    crime.
+
+    "The rest you know. My wife was accused and tried for my murder,
+    as Jeringham's corpse was so disfigured that it was thought to
+    be mine. I have mentioned the strong resemblance between us, and
+    this helped the deception. I was compelled to keep in hiding as
+    Jeringham, but I declare, had the case gone against my wife, I
+    should have come forward and told all. As it was I went abroad,
+    aided by Hilliston, who acted as my friend all through. He
+    looked after my unhappy wife till she died in London; he took
+    charge of you and brought you up like a son. He also secured me
+    sufficient of my own property to live quietly, so I came to
+    Thorston under the name of Paynton, and here I have lived ever
+    since. I thought to die in peace, but you, Claude, have reopened
+    the case. I tell you this to show you the futility of trying to
+    find the real murderer. I do not know who killed Jeringham, nor
+    do I think you will ever find out. If, after reading this, you
+    still consider me your father, come at once to a most unhappy
+    man. Be just, be lenient, my son, and forgive your unhappy
+    father,
+
+                                               "GEORGE LARCHER."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+                        A NEW ASPECT OF THINGS.
+
+
+TAIT folded over the last sheet of this long letter with a sigh.
+Although he was pleased for Claude's sake that George Larcher was still
+in the land of the living, yet he was distinctly disappointed that no
+communication had been made likely to elucidate the mystery. Yet the
+result of this confession was an entire displacement of the point whence
+it was necessary to survey the case. The motives which had caused the
+supposed death of Larcher would not suffice to explain the death of
+Jeringham. The case had assumed a new aspect, but nevertheless it was as
+complex and inexplicable as ever. Tait thought of all this with
+inconceivable rapidity, but did not give utterance to his opinion in the
+presence of his friend.
+
+"The letter is wonderful, so far," was his sole remark, "but it is a
+great pity that it ends so abruptly. I suppose your father will
+personally relate all other details, Claude, when you see him again."
+
+The young man assumed a sitting position, and deliberately finished his
+wine before replying to this remark. He looked anxious and disturbed,
+and, now that he had recovered from the overwhelming surprise at finding
+his father alive, seemed less delighted than he should have been. A
+miracle had been wrought in his behalf; the dead had been restored to
+life; but he was by no means gratified by the occurrence.
+
+"I don't know whether I shall see my father again," he said shortly.
+
+"But, my dear friend----"
+
+"Oh, I know all you would say," interrupted Claude hastily, with a
+frown; "but I am not prepared to admit your arguments. My mother is
+alive, my father is in existence, yet for twenty-five years I have
+looked on them as dead. Can you, then, wonder that I feel awkward toward
+them both; that I am by no means disposed to render them that filial
+affection which, you must admit, they but ill deserve?"
+
+"The question is so delicate that I can only hold my peace," said Tait,
+after a pause. "I admit what you say. Still they are your own flesh and
+blood."
+
+"I might answer you as _Hamlet_ did on a like occasion," replied Claude,
+with a bitter smile; "but a quotation will not mend matters. What I have
+to consider is the advisability of seeing my father again."
+
+"You must certainly see him again," said the other promptly.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"In the first place he is your father, whatever you may say, and in the
+second you had better tell him personally that you abandon further
+investigation of the case. After all, your object is gone; for though
+you might want to avenge the death of a parent, the murder of a scamp
+like Jeringham can matter nothing to you."
+
+"Oh, that I abandon the case goes without speaking," said Claude
+quickly, "and you----"
+
+"I act in the same way. The further we go into the case the more
+perplexing does it become. It is beyond me. Only at the Last Day will
+the mystery be solved. Still," added Tait meditatively, "I must admit a
+curiosity yet exists on my part to know who struck the blow. Of course
+your father's story corroborates Dicky Pental's, but the gardener
+mistook him for Jeringham by reason of the fancy dress."
+
+"Does this letter suggest anything to you?"
+
+"It narrows the field of inquiry, that is all. Your mother, your father,
+and Denis Bantry must necessarily be innocent, as they were in the house
+when the murder took place in the garden."
+
+"If they are innocent, who is guilty?"
+
+"We have a choice of two who were outside at the time. You can choose
+between Hilliston and Mona Bantry."
+
+"Mona Bantry kill her lover! How do you make that out?"
+
+"You forget your father's account of the scene in the sitting room,"
+said Tait significantly; "then Mrs. Larcher asserted in the presence of
+Mona that she had come with Jeringham, furthermore, that he was in the
+garden. Mona, also jealous, acts as any other woman would have done in
+such a position. She goes into the garden to demand an explanation;
+there is a quarrel between her and Jeringham, and she kills him, then
+flies, not to hide her disgrace, but to evade the consequences of her
+act. That is a feasible theory, I think."
+
+Claude shook his head. "I don't agree with you," he said emphatically.
+"You forget that we have my mother's account of the matter to place
+against that of my father's. If you recollect she also admitted finding
+my father and Mona in the sitting room; she also admits fainting, but
+there all resemblance between the accounts ceases. My mother distinctly
+says that she threatened her husband with the dagger, that it fell on
+the floor when she lost her senses. When she recovered them the dagger
+was gone. Now," continued Claude slowly, "if you remember, the crime was
+committed by means of the dagger, for it was found red with blood in the
+grounds, and then was taken possession of by the police. If my mother's
+account is the true one, Mona Bantry may certainly have picked up the
+dagger and have murdered Jeringham, as you suggest. But if my father's
+story is to be believed, Mona left the room before my mother fainted,
+and consequently could not have gained possession of the dagger. It
+follows as a natural consequence that she could not have committed the
+murder."
+
+Tait nodded several times during this explanation, to show that he
+agreed with the points raised; but when Claude concluded he rubbed his
+chin in some perplexity.
+
+"Here we come to a dead stop," said he impatiently. "It was asserted by
+the police that the murder was committed with the dagger worn by your
+mother as part of the fancy dress."
+
+"Yes! If you remember, it was on that evidence she was arrested."
+
+"Well, if she wore that dagger in the sitting room, Jeringham could not
+have been killed with it, because the murder must have taken place while
+your father was trying to pacify your mother."
+
+Claude glanced at the letter again. "My father makes no mention of the
+dagger in this," he said, with a puzzled look.
+
+"No. I should like to hear what he has to say on the subject, the more
+so as I incline to his story rather than to your mother's."
+
+"For what reason?"
+
+"In her conversation with you, Mrs. Bezel--or rather your mother--said
+that she had threatened your father with the dagger in the sitting room
+of The Laurels."
+
+"Yes. Well?"
+
+"If you remember the evidence given by her to the police at the time of
+the arrest was that she had lost the dagger at the ball, and knew not
+into whose hands it had fallen."
+
+Claude looked nonplussed, and knew not what answer to make. That his
+mother had made two different statements he was compelled to admit. He
+further remembered that his father had made no statement whatsoever
+about the dagger. Yet on the possession of that dagger turned the whole
+of the case. Whoever picked it up, whether at the ball or in the sitting
+room, must have killed Jeringham. Assuming his father's account to be
+true, and Claude saw no reason to doubt its accuracy, Mona could not
+have committed the murder, nor could Mr. or Mrs. Larcher be guilty. It
+therefore followed that his mother had spoken truly to the police, and
+for some inexplicable reason falsely to him. The dagger must have been
+lost at the ball, and picked up by--whom?
+
+"I can make nothing of it," he said, after due consideration. "The only
+way to get at the truth is to tell my father that his wife still lives,
+and bring them together. Out of their meeting good may come."
+
+"You will then call and see your father," said Tait encouragingly.
+
+"Yes. I must. I see no way out of it. He must be informed that my mother
+lives, and I am the proper person to tell him so. Though it is strange,"
+added Claude suddenly, "that Hilliston never told him."
+
+"Humph! That gentleman seems to serve both sides," said Tait gruffly.
+"Your mother speaks well of him, your father thinks no end of him, and
+both trust him, yet for what I can see he has deceived both."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, by keeping back the truth from each. He has let your father think
+your mother dead, and _vice versa_. What do you make of that?"
+
+"I tell you I can make nothing of the whole confusion," said Claude
+crossly. "I will see my father and abandon the case, for I am sick of
+the affair. It is maddening. What a pity your lunatic did not wake up a
+few minutes earlier so as to see who struck the blow and thus have
+settled the matter? But it is not that which troubles me."
+
+"No? What else disturbs your mind?"
+
+"Jenny."
+
+"Jenny?" echoed Tait, with feigned simplicity. "I am afraid I am dull. I
+don't see."
+
+"You must be blind, then," retorted Claude, in an exasperated tone. "You
+know I love Jenny."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, I can't love her. She is my half sister."
+
+"Indeed!" said Tait, in nowise astonished at this announcement. "How do
+you make that out?"
+
+"Why, isn't Jenny the daughter of Paynton, and isn't he my father?"
+
+"He is your father, certainly, but I assure you Jenny is not his
+daughter. She is no relation to him."
+
+"Tait! what do you mean?"
+
+"Can't you guess?"
+
+"No. Out with it, man! Don't keep me in suspense."
+
+"Why," drawled Tait, enjoying the situation. "Jenny is the niece of
+Denis--in other words, she is the child of Mona Bantry and Jeringham."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+                          THE GARNET SCARFPIN.
+
+
+THAT same evening Claude called to see his father. He decided to go
+alone, but asked Tait to repair to Rose Cottage within the hour, so
+that, the meeting with his newly found parent having taken place, a
+consultation could be held by the three regarding the proceeding with,
+or withdrawing, of the case. Tait especially stipulated that this
+arrangement should be come to, as he was desirous of seeing Mr. Larcher,
+senior, in order to disabuse his mind of the straight-forwardness of
+Hilliston. Privately, Tait believed that the lawyer would yet be found
+guilty of the crime. On no other grounds could he explain the attitude
+taken up by Hilliston since the papers had been placed in Claude's
+hands. The evidence of Miss Pike and Dick Pental failed to alter his
+idea on this point.
+
+Tait himself was beginning to feel weary of the investigation. At every
+turn it took he was baffled by some fresh obstacle, and he was not
+ill-pleased to find that the matter was at an end so far as Claude was
+concerned. That young man had sworn to avenge the death of his father;
+but now that his father proved to be still in existence, the oath was
+null and void. So that, Claude married to Jenny, he would be quite
+willing to leave the solution of the mystery surrounding the death of
+Jeringham to Tait; but Tait himself determined to have nothing further
+to do with so wearisome a problem.
+
+He waited considerably beyond the hour before leaving for the cottage,
+as he rightly considered the father and son would have much to say to
+one another. Moreover it was necessary to give Larcher time to overcome
+his emotion on learning that his wife was still in existence. Tait was
+by no means sure that the old gentleman would be pleased with this
+revelation. According to his own showing his relations with his wife had
+been none of the best; and to renew those relations after twenty-five
+years could hardly fail to be most unpleasant.
+
+During this time Tait gave no thought to Jenny or Denis. As to the
+former, he was so satisfied that she was the daughter of Jeringham by
+Mona Bantry that he did not think it worth while to give the matter the
+benefit of the doubt. What he was curious to know was how Paynton, or
+rather Captain Larcher, came to stand in the position of an adopted
+father. Information on this point was conveyed to him before he reached
+the cottage by Denis himself.
+
+The old servant walked briskly along the road, looking quite
+rejuvenated. He had heard the good news, and it had transformed his
+life. In place of a crabbed expression, his face appeared wonderfully
+cheerful, and he saluted Tait with a grin of pleasure. The other could
+not forbear commenting on his changed appearance, so clearly apparent
+even in the waning light of evening.
+
+"Why, Kerry, you look ten years younger," he said, stopping short in his
+amazement, with an afterthought of Dick Pental's accusation.
+
+"Ah, and I do that same, sir," said Denis, saluting in military fashion,
+"and you know why, sir."
+
+"Are they reconciled?" asked Tait, guessing what was in the mind of the
+old servant.
+
+"Begad, they are! Chattering together like two love birds, and my old
+master looking on with pride."
+
+"Why, Kerry, I spoke of Captain Larcher."
+
+"Augh, did you now, sir? I spoke of Master Claude, God bless him, and
+Miss Jenny, God bless her! God bless them both!" cried Kerry, taking off
+his hat, with a burst of affection, "and his honor along with them. Oh,
+glory be to the saints for this blessed day. But sure, I am forgetting
+my service, sir. The master is waiting to see you this very minute."
+
+"I was just on my way," said Tait, signing to Kerry to go on. "We will
+walk there together. By the way, does Miss Jenny know she is not the
+daughter of your master?"
+
+"She knew it all along, sir. Ah, and why should you look surprised at
+that, Mr. Tait? Is it because she is the niece of an old soldier like
+me?"
+
+"No, no, Kerry! But, as you are aware, Miss Jenny knows the case from
+those newspapers she found; and in that report Jeringham----"
+
+"I see what you mean, sir," said Kerry, touching his hat in a
+deprecating manner; "but sure she doesn't know all. She believes herself
+to be the child of my sister, Mona--who is dead, rest her soul, and of a
+Mr. Kennedy. We've invented a father for her, sir. 'Twould never do for
+her to know she was the daughter of the poor man who was killed."
+
+"It is just as well, Kerry. Do you know who killed him?" Tait asked this
+question with a keen glance at the man.
+
+"No, sir. How should I know. I ran out with the light when the captain
+called, but I don't know who struck him the cruel blow. He was a bad
+man, sir, deceiving my sister, and disgracing the Bantry family, but he
+is dead, and she is dead, so we'll let them rest, and the heavens be
+their bed!"
+
+By this time they were at the garden door, and striking his hand over
+these sad memories Kerry led the visitor into the house, and showed him
+into the bookroom. Here were assembled Claude, his father, and Jenny,
+all looking supremely happy, though the old gentleman appeared to be
+rather shaken. He rose when Tait entered and held out his hand.
+
+"I am glad to see you, Mr. Tait," said he, in an unsteady voice, "and I
+thank you for the way in which you have aided my son. I feel that an
+apology is due to you for my behavior on your last visit."
+
+"Don't mention it," replied Tait cordially, shaking the extended hand.
+"Under the circumstances you could not act otherwise. Well, Miss
+Paynton, am I to----"
+
+"Don't call me Miss Paynton now, Mr. Tait," she said, smiling; "there
+can be no need for further concealment. I can take my own name, that
+of----"
+
+"Miss Kennedy," said Tait quickly. "Do not look so surprised. Kerry told
+me all about it as I came along. I am at once astonished and delighted."
+
+"I don't wonder at it," said Captain Larcher, patting Claude's hand.
+"You see I have found a son."
+
+"And soon, sir, you will lose a daughter," observed Tait significantly.
+
+"Oh, no," observed Claude, with a laugh; "when I marry Jenny we will all
+live together as a happy family."
+
+"Marriage! Has it come to that?"
+
+"You are astonished, I see, Mr. Tait," said the old gentleman, shaking
+his head. "I am myself. It is too soon--too sudden. They have only known
+each other a few weeks, and it is impossible that a union on so short an
+acquaintance can prove happy."
+
+"We will have a long engagement," said Claude, "in order to prove if we
+truly love one another. But I am not afraid of the result."
+
+"Neither am I," remarked Jenny, slipping her arm within that of her
+lover. "I am sure nothing will come between us. But come, Claude, and we
+will see my uncle, for I notice that Mr. Tait is anxious to speak to
+your father about that horrid case."
+
+Captain Larcher nodded his approval of this, so Claude and Jenny left
+the room to seek Kerry, and be wept over by the old servant. Left alone
+with his host, Tait took a chair by the table, and they looked at one
+another in silence. The captain was the first to break it.
+
+"There is no need for me to recapitulate the events of the day," he
+said, with a weary sigh, "as Claude told me you read my letter, and are
+in possession of all the facts. You may believe, Mr. Tait, that I feel
+considerably shaken. My interview with Claude has been rather trying. He
+has behaved in the most affectionate manner."
+
+"Well, now your troubles are all at an end, Captain Larcher, and----"
+
+"At an end, sir!" he interrupted sharply. "No, they will continue. My
+innocence is not yet proved, and I must still remain here under a
+feigned name, unless you agree to help me."
+
+"Certainly I agree. Is it your intention and Claude's to go on with the
+case?"
+
+"We have come to that decision, but I wanted to consult you before
+finally making up my mind. Do you think we ought to proceed?"
+
+"I certainly do," said Tait promptly. "It is true that the police think
+that you are the victim. But if you want to assume your own name,
+inquiries would certainly be made. One is never safe in these criminal
+matters, even after the lapse of years. If you did declare yourself to
+be Captain Larcher, then it would come out that Jeringham is dead, and
+you would have to clear yourself. Besides, the evidence of Dicky Pental
+would implicate you, seeing that he mistook you in that fancy dress for
+Jeringham."
+
+"True enough," replied Larcher, nodding. "And there is another reason. I
+have just learned that my wife is still alive, and is protected by
+Hilliston at Hampstead. I sent Claude out of the room so that I could
+ask you a plain question. Give me a plain answer, and tell me what are
+the relations between them."
+
+"I don't care to answer that plainly," said Tait, with some hesitation;
+"but I think you can guess."
+
+"Does Hilliston love my wife?"
+
+"On the authority of Miss Belinda Pike, whom I saw at Horriston, I
+believe he does."
+
+"And for her sake he had deceived me all these years?"
+
+"It seems so. In fact, Captain Larcher, Hilliston has been playing a
+double game. He kept you and your wife apart by assuring each that the
+other was dead. That conduct alone stamps him as a villain. Then, again,
+he threw all kinds of obstacles in the way while we were investigating
+this case."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"My own opinion is that Hilliston committed the murder."
+
+Captain Larcher clenched his hand, and thought for a few moments.
+
+"It might be so," he muttered, more to himself than to Tait. "Hilliston
+was in the garden. If he loved my wife--a fact which I never
+suspected--he might have killed Jeringham out of jealousy."
+
+"But the dagger! How did he obtain that?"
+
+"No doubt at the ball. I assure you, Mr. Tait, that my wife had not the
+dagger when in the sitting room."
+
+"She declares that she threatened you with it."
+
+"Then she either forgets or speaks falsely. She wore it at the ball when
+I spoke to her there, but when she returned it was missing. Hilliston
+came with me, knowing Jeringham was with my wife. He might have picked
+up the dagger with the fullest intention of committing the crime. Now
+that I know he loved my wife I am not prepared to say how he acted in
+the garden while I was in the house."
+
+"And the garnet scarfpin mentioned in the novel?"
+
+"That belonged to Hilliston," said Larcher quickly. "I gave it to him
+myself. Denis picked it up in the garden, but I thought nothing of that,
+as I was aware Hilliston was in the grounds on that night. But now I
+believe----Oh, I am afraid to say what I believe. I may be wrong."
+
+"There is one way of finding out the truth, Captain Larcher. Come up to
+town this week and see your wife. Then we may learn all."
+
+The old gentleman leaned his head on his hand in deep thought for a few
+minutes.
+
+"I will come," he said at length. "At whatever cost, I will force the
+guilty woman to own the truth."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+
+                             FACE TO FACE.
+
+
+THE conversation between Tait and Captain Larcher was not finished that
+evening, as the old gentleman, worn out by the excitement of the day,
+early retired to bed. However, he declared that he would be shortly
+ready to journey to London; and Claude left the Cottage with Tait on the
+understanding that his father was to be called for next day. Before they
+parted for the night Claude made a remark about Hilliston.
+
+"I hope he won't get wind of this," he said dubiously; "or he may get
+Mrs. Bezel--I can't call her mother--out of the way."
+
+"Have no fear," replied Tait calmly. "Hilliston's hands are too full at
+present."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why," said Tait, lighting his candle; "your father showed me a letter
+from Hilliston, apologizing for not coming over, as his wife was lying
+dangerously ill at the Connaught Hotel, at Eastbourne."
+
+"He said something of that in his note to me. What is the matter with
+Mrs. Hilliston?"
+
+"She has the smallpox."
+
+"The smallpox!" echoed Claude, in a tone of horror. "Poor creature, she
+is a dead woman!"
+
+"I don't know so much about that. She may recover."
+
+"She may recover from the disease," said the young man gloomily; "but
+not from the blow to her vanity. Many a time has she told me that if she
+lost her looks she would kill herself. You mark my words, Tait, within
+the week we will hear of her death."
+
+And with these prophetic words Claude retired to his room.
+
+Tait had no time to think of this conversation, being occupied with
+anticipation regarding the meeting of Captain Larcher and his wife; but
+it so happened that Claude's prognostications occurred to him when the
+truth of the Horriston tragedy was discovered, and that was not long
+afterward. Perhaps, like the young men, Fate herself grew weary of an
+affair which had dragged on for twenty-five years. At all events she
+brought matters to a conclusion with almost inconceivable rapidity.
+
+The first step toward the end was the meeting of husband and wife, which
+took place at Clarence Cottage, Hampstead, during the afternoon of the
+next day. In company with his son and Tait, the old gentleman drove to
+the railway station, some three miles distant, and took the up express.
+When established comfortably in a first-class smoking carriage--for
+Captain Larcher was fond of a pipe--he resumed the conversation with
+Tait which had been broken off on the previous night. This time the
+subject was Hilliston and his doings.
+
+"I have been thinking over your suspicions regarding Hilliston," he
+said, addressing himself more directly to Tait, "and I confess that it
+is difficult to reconcile some of his actions with your view that he is
+guilty. Claude, as you know, was ignorant of the Horriston tragedy until
+enlightened by Hilliston."
+
+"I know that, my dear sir," said Tait quietly, "Hilliston certainly
+placed the papers containing the account of the matter in Claude's
+hands, but he was forced to do so by the action of Mrs. Bezel--I beg
+pardon, Mrs. Larcher."
+
+"Continue to call her Mrs. Bezel, if you please. I prefer it so. How did
+she force Hilliston to confide in Claude."
+
+"Because she read the book 'A Whim of Fate,' and seeing the tragedy
+therein described, she wrote asking Claude to see her with the intention
+of telling him all. As you may guess, her story differs materially from
+that of Hilliston's, so of two evils, choosing the least, he determined
+to forestall her and inform Claude of the matter."
+
+"And he did so by means of the press," said Claude eagerly. "In place of
+telling me the story himself he allowed me to gather what information I
+could from the scanty report of the _Canterbury Observer_. My dear
+father, the Genesis of the whole matter springs from the finding of
+those papers by Jenny. Had she not read them and told Linton the story
+he would not have written the book; had he not done so Mrs. Bezel would
+not have determined to tell me her version; and but for her threat to do
+so Hilliston would not have produced the papers."
+
+"Humph! The action was compulsory on the part of Hilliston?"
+
+"I think so, sir," said Tait complacently; "therefore it is quite in
+keeping with his usual character. The rat did not fight till it was
+driven into a corner."
+
+"It is not in the corner," remarked Captain Larcher significantly, "but
+we'll drive it there and see if it will face our accusation. But what
+about Hilliston's introduction of Claude to me? Would it not have been
+to his interest to keep us apart?"
+
+"Oh!" said Tait, with some contempt for Hilliston's diplomacy, "that was
+another case of necessity. He knew that Claude and I were bent on
+discovering the truth, so, fearing that we should do so by further
+investigation, he thought to stop the whole matter by bringing you face
+to face with your son."
+
+"I don't see how that would accomplish his aim."
+
+"Hilliston hoped it would do so in two ways," explained Tait glibly.
+"First, he hoped that you would give your consent to Claude marrying
+Jenny, and so lead his mind away from the case, and second, he trusted
+that when Claude found you alive he would no longer desire to pursue the
+investigation."
+
+"He was right so far," said Claude seriously.
+
+"If that was Hilliston's calculation, he made one great mistake," said
+Captain Larcher scornfully. "He did not think that I should wish to see
+my wife."
+
+"He must have been satisfied that Claude would tell you she was alive."
+
+"That, of course. But he thought I would stay at Thorston as Ferdinand
+Paynton, and be afraid to admit my identity even to my wife. I might
+have done so but for Claude. But I owe it to him to clear myself, and
+this meeting with my wife will be the first step toward doing so.
+Between us we must solve the mystery."
+
+"It is none, so far as I am concerned," said Tait grimly. "I am sure as
+I am sitting here that Hilliston murdered Jeringham. The gardener was
+just too late to see him do the deed."
+
+"But his motive?" asked Claude curiously.
+
+His father and Tait stole a glance at one another. They neither of them
+wished to make any remarks about Mrs. Larcher and Hilliston's passion,
+preferring that Claude should be ignorant of that episode. Still when he
+asked so direct a question it was difficult to avoid a direct answer,
+but Larcher gave him one which was sufficiently evasive to stop further
+inquiries.
+
+"We must try and find out his motive," he said quietly. "Depend upon it,
+Claude, there is a good deal of underhand work in this of which we know
+nothing."
+
+"Do you think Mona committed the crime?"
+
+"No, I do not. In no way could she have gained possession of the dagger
+with which it was committed."
+
+"My mother says she had a dagger in the sitting room."
+
+"That is a mistake," said Captain Larcher, using as delicate a word as
+he could think of. "She threatened me with the sheath of the dagger, and
+no doubt, being agitated at the time, she thought it was the weapon
+itself. But I noticed when she entered the room that the sheath was
+empty. Her story to the police at the time of the trial is more likely.
+She lost it in the ballroom. The question is, who picked it up? Judging
+from the knowledge I now have of his character I believe it was
+Hilliston who did so."
+
+"Or Jeringham," said Tait suddenly.
+
+"Impossible! How could Jeringham have found it?"
+
+"He was with Mrs. Larcher all the evening, and may have seen the dagger
+fall. Or again, he may have taken it out of the sheath to examine it and
+have forgotten to return it. It is not improbable that in such a case he
+might have recollected it when he was in the garden, and offered it to
+Mona to return to her mistress."
+
+"Oh!" said Claude with contempt. "And on that slight ground you suppose
+that Mona killed him?"
+
+"It is not beyond the bounds of probability."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Captain Larcher angrily. "I don't believe it. Mona was
+a good girl, foully deceived by Jeringham. She fled from the house to
+hide her disgrace, thinking my wife would tell her brother. Hilliston
+afterward met her in London, where she died in giving birth to Jenny."
+
+"Then it was Hilliston who brought Jenny to you?"
+
+"Yes. Because her Uncle Denis was in my service. I adopted Jenny, but
+told her that she was the child of a Mr. Kennedy and Mona Bantry. She
+believed her father and mother were married, so do not disturb that view
+of the case."
+
+"Certainly not," said Tait emphatically. "It would be cruel to do so.
+But here we are at Victoria. After seeing Mrs. Bezel at Hampstead we can
+resume our conversation."
+
+"If we do it will be from a different standpoint, I fancy," said Larcher
+significantly, as the train stopped.
+
+Tait's brougham was waiting for them at the station, and in this they
+drove up to Hampstead. Leaving it in Fitzjohn's Avenue they walked down
+Hunt Lane to Clarence Cottage. Mrs. Bezel occupied her usual seat in the
+window, and caught sight of Claude as he preceded his father and Tait up
+the path. A terrified expression crossed her face, but she made no
+motion to forbid their entrance. Yet a sense of coming evil struck at
+her heart, and it needed all her self-control to prevent herself from
+fainting when they were shown into the room.
+
+"My dear mother," said Claude, kissing her, "you must be prepared for
+unexpected news. I beg of you to control yourself for----"
+
+He stopped short in astonishment. Mrs. Bezel was looking at Captain
+Larcher with a bewildered air, and he gazed at her face with an
+expression of amazement. She shrank back as he crossed the room with
+rapidity, and bent over her.
+
+"Mona Bantry!" he cried, "is it possible that you still live?"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLI.
+
+                            AN EXPLANATION.
+
+
+ON hearing his father's exclamation Claude turned round with a look of
+supreme astonishment. He could not understand the meaning of that sudden
+exclamation.
+
+"Father, you do not understand. This is your wife--my mother."
+
+"Is it, indeed?" sneered Captain Larcher, who had recovered from his
+momentary emotion. "Nothing of the sort, sir. This woman is Mona Bantry,
+who was my wife's maid."
+
+"Are you sure?" cried Tait, who was beginning to be bewildered by these
+successive revelations.
+
+"Sure, sir! as sure as I am of my own innocence. As sure as I am George
+Larcher, this is the sister of Denis Bantry, who----"
+
+"Denis!"
+
+The interruption came from Mrs. Bezel. She had sat dumfounded at the
+unexpected appearance of the man whom she had thought dead, and she had
+said nothing while assertion and denial were going on, but the mention
+of her brother's name stirred her dormant faculties, and she sat up
+looking wildly around.
+
+"Denis!" she cried, in a terrified tone. "Is Denis here?"
+
+"Denis is down at Thorston," said Captain Larcher gruffly, "as you no
+doubt knew well enough."
+
+"I swear I did not. Francis told me Denis was in America."
+
+"Francis?" exclaimed Claude, forgetting to whom the name belonged.
+
+"Francis Hilliston."
+
+"Ah!" said Captain Larcher, with a disdainful look round. "I might have
+guessed as much. Off with the dead love, on with the living. You have
+amended the proverb."
+
+"I did not know Mark was dead, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bezel passionately.
+"Francis said that he had gone to America with Denis. I thought he had
+done so to escape the consequences of his crime, but----"
+
+"Of his crime!" cried Claude. "He was the victim, poor soul, not the
+murderer. It was Jeringham who was killed, not my father."
+
+"Your father?" said Mrs. Bezel, looking steadily at Captain Larcher.
+"Yes; it is my old master. So you are alive and he is dead. Why did you
+kill him, sir?"
+
+"I did not kill him," replied the captain quietly, "and as a counter
+question, may I ask why you passed yourself off to Claude as my wife?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel burst into a wild laugh, and clapped her hands together. Then
+she covered her face and commenced to weep, but in a few moments the fit
+of hysteria passed away, and she became cool and composed. Thrown off
+her balance for the time being, she had now gathered her wits together,
+and was ready to fight. Her folly and impulse had brought about this
+catastrophe, and it was her duty to set it right again--if she could.
+But the upshot of the matter was extremely doubtful.
+
+On his part, Captain Larcher was relieved to find that Mrs. Bezel proved
+to be Mona Bantry instead of his wife. Ever since the communication made
+by Claude, he had suffered agonies at the thought that his wife had been
+living all these years under the protection of his false friend. Now
+that fear was set at rest once and forever. Julia Larcher had really
+died, as Hilliston had asserted, and the woman in Clarence Cottage, who
+had taken her name, was the maid in place of the mistress. Out of all
+the trouble Larcher extracted this morsel of comfort, his honor was
+unstained.
+
+Meanwhile the three visitors sat waiting to hear what Mrs. Bezel had to
+say. She saw that they expected a confession, and resolved to disappoint
+them. Leaning backward among her cushions, she closed her eyes, and
+played a waiting game. It proved successful, for in two minutes or
+thereabouts Captain Larcher broke out. His temper was none of the best,
+and recent events had not tended to improve it."
+
+"Well, madam," he said sharply, rapping his stick on the ground, "I am
+waiting to hear what you have to say."
+
+"I have nothing to say," said Mrs. Bezel quietly.
+
+"Oh, yes, you have," began Tait. "As you set the ball----"
+
+But at this moment he was interrupted by Larcher.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Tait, but I will question this woman myself.
+Pray do not speak, nor you, Claude, till I have done."
+
+Both young men bowed their heads and acquiesced in silence. After all,
+the captain was the proper person to examine Mona Bantry. He knew more
+of the case than anyone else, and conversant as he was with the events
+of that fatal night, he would know whether she spoke truly or falsely.
+Mrs. Bezel looked uneasy on hearing his resolution, but only compressed
+her lips tighter as though resolved to let nothing escape her. But he
+was a match for her in obstinacy.
+
+"Now then," said Larcher, turning to her, "relate your history from the
+moment you left me alone with my wife twenty-five years ago at The
+Laurels."
+
+"It would not help you if I did."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that. But I understand. You are afraid of
+incriminating yourself."
+
+"I!" exclaimed Mrs. Bezel indignantly. "What have I to do with the
+matter. I know nothing of it. I left the house then and there, and only
+heard of the tragedy while I was concealed at Horriston, more than a
+week afterward."
+
+"Why did you state to my son that Mrs. Larcher threatened me with the
+dagger."
+
+"So she did," said Mrs. Bezel coolly. "I saw her hand raised, I saw the
+dagger in it."
+
+"You saw the sheath of the dagger, you mean," retorted Larcher; "it fell
+on the floor and was found there next day. But the weapon with which the
+crime was committed was lost by my wife at the ball."
+
+"It may have been," said the woman indifferently. "I don't know anything
+about it."
+
+"Did not Jeringham show it to you when you joined him in the garden?"
+
+"I tell you I did not see him on that night. When you found out my
+secret, I was afraid that you and the mistress would betray it to my
+brother Denis, so I left the room and fled. I thought Jeringham would
+join me at Horriston next day, but then I heard of your supposed death,
+and that he had fled. Until this hour I did not know that it was the
+other way round."
+
+"Did not Hilliston tell you? He knew."
+
+"No, Captain Larcher, he did not," said Mrs. Bezel emphatically. "He
+said that Jeringham had gone to America with my brother."
+
+"Where did you go after leaving Horriston?"
+
+"I came to London, and remained there till my baby was born."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I found that my money had come to an end, and called at Mr. Hilliston's
+office to ask him to help me."
+
+"What right had you to expect help from him."
+
+"I had no right, but that I knew he would assist me because of his
+love."
+
+"His love!" exclaimed Larcher sharply. "Did Hilliston love you?"
+
+"Yes; I refused to have anything to do with him on account of Jeringham.
+But he did love me. Oh, yes, I know you thought he was in love with your
+wife, but such was not the case. He loved me, and me only."
+
+Larcher drew a long breath, and looked puzzled. He was relieved to find
+that he had not been mistaken in Hilliston, after all, yet the assertion
+of Mrs. Bezel only seemed to further complicate the case. If Hilliston
+did not love Mrs. Larcher, what possible motive could he have to kill
+Jeringham? The looks of Claude and Tait reflected his perplexity; but
+dismissing this special point for the moment, he pursued his
+examination.
+
+"How did Hilliston receive you?"
+
+Mrs. Bezel looked around with a bitter smile. Her meaning was clear from
+the contemptuous expression on her face.
+
+"Can you not guess from what you see here?" she said quietly. "Francis
+Hilliston bought me. He loved me well enough, but not sufficiently to
+marry me. He did not ruin me, for I was already ruined. I accepted his
+offer to come here and be his mistress. What else could I do? I was
+alone in London. I was friendless. I believed that my lover and my
+brother had fled to America. I could not return to Horriston lest I
+might be involved in the tragedy at The Laurels. I did what any other
+woman would have done, and made the best of a bad business. I accepted
+the love and protection of Francis Hilliston. The protection still
+continues, as you see--the love, that is dead and done with."
+
+"I see you are thinking of Louisa Sinclair," interposed Tait quietly.
+
+"What do you know of Louisa Sinclair?" asked Mrs. Bezel, with a violent
+start.
+
+"Everything, thanks to you," answered Tait. "Your letter put the clew
+into my head. I went to Horriston; I saw a portrait of Miss Sinclair. I
+know that she went to America after the tragedy, and returned as Mrs.
+Derrick, rich and beautiful, to marry Hilliston."
+
+"Ah, you know that much. Yes! Louisa Sinclair is my rival! Ten years ago
+she came back to England and wanted Francis to marry her. I fell ill--I
+became paralyzed. He forgot me, he forgot my love, and she became his
+wife. Oh, how I hate her! I hate him. It was on that account that I
+wrote to you, Claude, to reveal all."
+
+"You then acted out of revenge!"
+
+"Yes, I did!" said Mrs. Bezel sullenly. "Look at me, a wreck; look at
+her, his wife, rich and handsome and healthy."
+
+"Not healthy, poor soul," said Claude. "She is ill with the smallpox."
+
+"With the smallpox," echoed Mrs. Bezel joyfully. "I'm glad of it! I'm
+glad of it! Her beauty will depart, as mine has done. Then Francis may
+come back to me."
+
+"You love him still?" asked Captain Larcher, in wonderment.
+
+"Too well to ruin him. You want me to accuse him of the crime, but I
+tell you he is innocent; he knows nothing."
+
+"He was in the garden alone on that night. None other but he----"
+
+"He was not alone," cried Mrs. Bezel sharply. "Louisa Sinclair was with
+him. Yes, she followed him from the ball because she was jealous of me.
+In my flight I passed her at the gate. She had a cloak over her dress,
+but I saw that it was the costume of Mary, Queen of Scots."
+
+"And you knew her by that?"
+
+"Partly. My mistress told me that Miss Sinclair had a similar costume to
+her own, for she was very angry about it. But I saw her face as I fled.
+She may know who killed Jeringham. I do not. Hilliston does not. Now, I
+have told you all. Go away and leave me. I speak no more."
+
+"First tell us why you declared yourself to be my mother?" said Claude
+sharply.
+
+"For safety. I regretted that I had told you; that I had forced
+Hilliston into defending himself. I was afraid lest you should learn too
+much and denounce me as the criminal. So long as you thought I was your
+mother you would not dare to do so, and therefore I told you I was Mrs.
+Larcher."
+
+"One last word," said Captain Larcher, rising to his feet. "Your child.
+What became of it?"
+
+"Hilliston took it away," said Mrs. Bezel, in a melancholy tone. "I was
+ill at the time and he overcame my scruples. I don't know where my child
+is. Often and often have I wanted to see her again, but Francis has
+always refused. Oh, where can she be?"
+
+"I can tell you."
+
+"You?" cried Mrs. Bezel, starting up in amazement.
+
+"Yes. Your daughter Jenny was brought by Hilliston to me. I adopted her
+as my child, and she is now at Thorston with her Uncle Denis--your
+brother."
+
+Mrs. Bezel tried to speak, but could not. With a wild glance around she
+heaved a long sigh and fainted. The joy of hearing that her child was
+alive proved too much for her enfeebled frame.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLII.
+
+                    THE TRAGEDY OF A WOMAN'S VANITY.
+
+
+MEANTIME Hilliston, unaware of that fatal meeting with Mona Bantry,
+which threatened to demoralize his plans, was devoting himself to his
+unfortunate wife. She was very ill, and not expected to recover, so
+feeling that he would soon lose her, the lawyer stayed constantly by her
+side, and strove, though unsuccessfully, to ameliorate her cruel
+sufferings. It was all the more credit to him that he did so, as he had
+married her mainly for her money, and was still in love with Mrs. Bezel.
+No doubt, remorse had something to do with his present attitude.
+
+The landlord of the Connaught Hotel had insisted upon Mrs. Hilliston
+being removed when the first symptoms of disease showed themselves. He
+declared that were it known that he had a smallpox patient in his house,
+he would be ruined for the season, so Hilliston, recognizing the truth
+of this assertion, took steps to isolate his wife, as was necessary from
+the nature of her illness. Assisted by the doctor, who attended to all
+details relative to the municipal authorities, he hired a small house on
+the outskirts of Eastbourne, and thither the wreck of what had once been
+a beautiful woman was removed one evening. Nurses were hired from
+London, Hilliston sent word to his partner that he would not return to
+business for some weeks; and then began the slow martyrdom of the
+sickroom.
+
+It was a fortnight since Mrs. Hilliston had been seized with the
+disease, and now it had taken so favorable a turn that the doctor held
+out great hopes that she would recover. But the beauty of which she had
+been so proud was gone, and with it went the hopes that she could still
+retain her husband by her side. Mrs. Hilliston knew well enough that it
+was only her persistence which had made Hilliston marry her, and now
+that she had lost her good looks--the one hold she had on his lukewarm
+affection--she foresaw only too clearly that he would neglect her in the
+future. Moreover, the woman's vanity was so powerful that she could not
+accept calmly the possibility of surviving, a scarred and maimed object,
+to face looks of pity and of horror. She felt that she would rather die,
+and in fact resolved to do so. Meanwhile she tossed and turned, and
+moaned and wept on her sick bed; crying out against the stern Fate which
+had dealt her such hard measure. Yet in her secret soul she admitted
+that the punishment was just.
+
+Hilliston was scarcely less unhappy than his wife. While her illness was
+serious, he had thought of nothing but how to save her, but now that a
+chance of recovery offered a respite from his arduous attendance by the
+sick bed, he had time to turn his thoughts toward the Horriston tragedy.
+He wondered that he had not heard from Paynton relative to the interview
+with Claude, and, fearful lest some untoward event had occurred to upset
+his plans, he wrote to Rose Cottage asking for information. To-day he
+had received a reply, and on reading it saw his worst fears realized.
+
+"I know you now [wrote Captain Larcher briefly]. I have seen Claude; I
+have seen Mona. Henceforth I look upon you as an enemy, and I intend to
+take immediate steps to clear my name at your expense."
+
+                               * * * * *
+
+There was no signature, but Hilliston was too well acquainted with his
+friend's writing to have any doubt as to the genuineness of the letter.
+The blow had fallen; Mona had betrayed him, and he sat there helpless,
+with the letter in his hand, a spectacle of baffled scheming, of
+unmasked villany.
+
+"To clear his name at my expense," muttered Hilliston to himself. "What
+does he mean by that? He cannot have discovered--but no, that is
+impossible. When they find out who picked up that dagger at the ball,
+they may learn the truth, but not till then. I defy them all. Larcher
+will remain Paynton till the end of his life. Mona! Ah, I shall punish
+her when I return to town for her cruel treachery."
+
+While he was thus thinking, a nurse entered the room to intimate that
+Mrs. Hilliston would like to see him. The lawyer obeyed the summons at
+once, placed Larcher's letter in his pocket, smoothed his brow, and
+entered the sickroom. Signing to the nurse to go away, Mrs. Hilliston
+waited till she was alone with her husband.
+
+"Francis," she said in a low voice, stretching out her hand, "I wish to
+speak to you--on that subject."
+
+"I think it would be wise if you refrained from doing so," replied
+Hilliston, knowing to what she alluded. "We understand one another on
+that point; you can do no good by bringing it up again. Why should you?"
+
+"For Claude's sake," said Mrs. Hilliston feverishly. "You owe him some
+reparation."
+
+"I owe him none, Louisa. I have acted like a father to him, and he has
+turned on me. I helped Larcher to hide himself when it was dangerous for
+him to become known, and he tells me that I am his enemy."
+
+"Have you heard from him?"
+
+"I received a curt note of three lines intimating that he was about to
+assert his innocence, and clear his name at my expense."
+
+"Francis," cried Mrs. Hilliston, in a tone of terror, "you are lost! If
+all is known----"
+
+"All will not be known," replied Hilliston, patting her hand; "only two
+people know the truth--you and I. We can keep our own counsel."
+
+"But that little man, Tait, is at Horriston."
+
+"What of that?"
+
+"He will see Belinda Pike there. You know how she hated me because I
+loved you. She wanted to marry you herself. If he meets Miss Pike she
+will speak against me."
+
+"What of that?" said Hilliston soothingly. "You forget, my dear, that
+your life is different now. No one can find Louisa Sinclair in Louisa
+Hilliston. When you went to America you vanished and returned as Mrs.
+Derrick, the rich widow. Belinda Pike can never learn that. My dear, you
+distress yourself suddenly. We are perfectly safe."
+
+"But the garnet scarfpin," questioned Mrs. Hilliston feverishly.
+
+"I am secure on that point. Larcher knew that I was in the garden on
+that night, and may have thought I dropped it. He will not dare to
+accuse me of the crime. If he did," continued Hilliston, his brow
+growing black, "I could turn the tables on him in a manner he little
+expects. There is more evidence against him than against me."
+
+"But if they learn that I was with you on that night?"
+
+"They will never learn. No one saw you there. If they did, what does it
+matter? Louisa Sinclair is dead. You need have no fear of being
+recognized. I'll answer for that."
+
+"It does not matter to me if I am known or not," said Mrs. Hilliston
+gloomily; "I have done with life."
+
+"My dear, the doctor says you will recover."
+
+"I shall not recover," said the sick woman, with emphasis. "Oh, do not
+deceive yourself, Francis! I shall never rise from this sick bed to be
+an object of horror and pity to you."
+
+"My dear----"
+
+"You never loved me. You only married me out of pity. At Horriston you
+refused to make me your wife, and it was only when I returned from
+America a rich woman that you did so. Pity," she said, with a scornful
+laugh, "no, not pity, but necessity. You would have been ruined but for
+my money."
+
+"I admit it, Louisa, and I am deeply grateful to you for the way in
+which you have helped me. I can never repay you for saving my name and
+credit."
+
+"You can, Francis. Get me my dressing case."
+
+"Louisa, you cannot----"
+
+"I insist upon being obeyed," she said imperiously. "Get me my dressing
+case."
+
+With great reluctance he brought it from a distant table and placed it
+on a chair by the bedside. In obedience to her directions he opened it,
+and took therefrom a sealed envelope.
+
+"In there," she said, as he held it in his hand, "is an account of all I
+saw on that fatal night. You must send that letter to Captain Larcher
+when I am dead."
+
+"Louisa, do you wish to ruin me?"
+
+"I wish to save you, Francis. Do not deceive yourself into a belief that
+the investigation is at an end. Claude may cease to meddle with the
+matter, for he is in love with Jenny, and will probably marry her, for
+by this time, according to you, he knows who she is. But I am afraid of
+Spenser Tait. He will hunt you down; he will urge Larcher to find out
+the truth. If it comes to that, send them my account of the matter."
+
+"It will ruin me," he said again.
+
+"It will save you," she repeated. "Do not be foolish, Francis. You can
+read it before sending it away."
+
+"But you?"
+
+"I shall be dead. I feel sure I shall not live. Promise me that if the
+worst comes you will send that letter."
+
+"I promise," he said, sorely against his will, "but it will not be sent:
+you will live."
+
+"I don't think so, Francis. I know better than the doctor. Now kiss me,
+my husband, and leave me to myself."
+
+He did so in silence, and took up the dressing-case, whereupon she
+stopped him. "Let it be," she said quietly: "some of your letters are in
+it, and I wish to read them. Kiss me again."
+
+Again he kissed her, and reluctantly left the room. So quiet and self
+contained was she that he had no inkling of her intention. Had he
+guessed her fatal resolve, little as was the love he bore her, he would
+surely have striven to turn her from her purpose. But he guessed
+nothing, and left her alone, with the devil tempting her.
+
+Good-by, my husband!" she murmured, as the door closed, and then burst
+into tears. He had gone, she would never see him again, and she moaned
+over her lost beauty which failed to retain him by her side. He was
+coldly polite; he was affectionate out of pity, but he had no love for
+her, and she hungered for the want of it. Her life passed before her,
+episode after episode, till it stopped short at the spectacle of a
+closed door, and herself lying alone and deserted in that sickroom.
+
+She wept and prayed, and then, with a firm hand, took out of her
+dressing case a small vial filled with a dark brown liquid. Twice she
+put it to her lips, and twice she hesitated; the third time she
+accomplished her purpose. The thought of her lost beauty, of her
+husband's neglect, of her childless home and wretched future, all these
+nerved her, and she drank off the contents, then quickly replaced the
+bottle in the dressing case.
+
+When the nurse came in to see her patient, Mrs. Hilliston was lying back
+with a quiet smile on her pale lips. She had found peace at last.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+               THE LAST APPEARANCE OF FRANCIS HILLISTON.
+
+
+UNAWARE of the tragedy which had taken place at Eastbourne, Captain
+Larcher was in London brooding over his wrongs, and weaving schemes how
+to avenge himself on Hilliston. His eyes had been opened by Tait with
+regard to the conduct of that gentleman, and he now saw plainly that he
+had been Hilliston's dupe for all these years. Indeed, he began to share
+Tait's opinion that the lawyer was guilty, and was casting about in his
+own mind how to prove this, when an announcement in the papers informed
+him of the death of Mrs. Hilliston.
+
+"The smallpox killed her, no doubt," said Tait, when he had expressed
+his regrets.
+
+"No!" remarked Claude, who had been looking over the general news. "It
+was a case of suicide."
+
+"Suicide!" exclaimed the hearers, in one breath.
+
+"Yes, according to this paragraph. It appears that in some way or
+another she became possessed of a bottle of laudanum while the nurse was
+absent. The woman returned to find her patient dead. Poor Mrs.
+Hilliston!" added Claude, folding up the paper with a sigh. "How sorry I
+am to hear this."
+
+"I wonder why she committed suicide?" said Tait meditatively. "She
+looked too determined a woman to yield to such a weakness."
+
+"No doubt she found out that her husband was guilty of the crime," said
+Larcher grimly, "and so did not care to live longer with a murderer."
+
+"You are wrong, father," observed Claude, looking up; "it was the
+knowledge that she had lost her looks which killed her. Depend upon it,
+she took the poison so as to avoid dragging out her days a scarred and
+miserable object."
+
+"How do you know that, Claude?" asked his father, with a curious look on
+his face.
+
+"Because not once, but twice, or thrice, Mrs. Hilliston told me she
+would kill herself rather than grow old and ugly. The loss of beauty
+came with the smallpox; and so she has carried out her resolve."
+
+"It will be a blow to Hilliston."
+
+"I don't think so," said Captain Larcher rather cynically. "From what I
+remember of Louisa Sinclair, the love was all on her side. No doubt he
+married her when she was Mrs. Derrick purely for her money. No! No! I
+quite believe the story of Mona Bantry. She was and is the woman of his
+love. Now the wife is dead he can console himself with the mistress."
+
+"That reminds me," observed Claude suddenly. "What are we to do about
+Jenny? Is she to be informed that her mother is yet alive?"
+
+Captain Larcher shook his head. "Set your mind at rest on that point,"
+he said with a nod. "I told Mrs. Bezel that Jenny was about to become
+your wife; that she thinks her parents are dead; and I pointed out that
+it would be unwise to mar the happiness of the girl by letting her know
+the truth. Mrs. Bezel agrees with me, and she has consented that things
+shall remain as they are."
+
+"Does she not want to see Jenny, father?"
+
+"Of course she does. It is only natural, poor soul, but she loves her
+child sufficiently to avoid casting a shadow on her life. Jenny will
+never know that Jeringham was her father or that her mother is still
+alive. She will marry you, Claude, as Miss Kennedy, and know no more of
+her connection with the matter than she does at present."
+
+"And Denis?"
+
+"Denis has been told. I wrote him two days ago, and I have no doubt he
+will come up to town to see the last of his wretched sister."
+
+"The last of her?"
+
+"Can you doubt it? Mrs. Bezel has death written on her face."
+
+"Another blow for Hilliston," said Tait, in a rather regretful tone.
+Villain as he knew the lawyer to be, he could not help feeling sorry for
+his troubles. Fate had held her hand a long time, but now she was
+dealing a full measure, and pouring the vials of her wrath on the head
+of the sinner.
+
+"It will be a heavier blow than the last," said Larcher, in a severe
+tone, "for there is no doubt Hilliston truly loves Mona."
+
+"I suppose Denis will object to his going near her again."
+
+"It is impossible to say. We must leave that to the man himself."
+
+This conversation took place in Tait's rooms one morning some three
+weeks after the momentous interview with Mrs. Bezel. It had been Captain
+Larcher's intention to return at once to Thorston, but he had been
+dissuaded from this by his son, who thought a few weeks in town would do
+his father good. There was no doubt on this point, for Captain Larcher
+brisked up wonderfully in the exhilarating atmosphere of the West End.
+But for the unexplained mystery of Jeringham's death, he would have been
+quite happy in the recovered society of his son, and even while the
+future was still black enjoyed himself in no small degree. It did Claude
+good to see that his father was at length getting some pleasure out of
+life, after his years of incessant trouble and wearing anxiety.
+
+The next day Denis, looking older and grayer than ever, came up to see
+his sister. He saw his master for a few minutes, and then went on to
+Hampstead.
+
+"I have told Denis how ill she is," explained Captain Larcher, as the
+man took his departure, "and he has promised to be as lenient as
+possible toward her wrong-doing. By the way, Hilliston is in town."
+
+"Hilliston!"
+
+"Yes. He came up in the same train as Denis, and had the impudence to
+speak to him. Asked him where I was, as he wanted to see me."
+
+"To see you, father?" cried Claude, in astonishment. "What for?"
+
+"I think I can guess," interposed Tait quietly, "Hilliston has been
+stricken by his wife's death, and wants to atone for his sins by
+confessing the truth. I would not be surprised if he called here this
+afternoon."
+
+Captain Larcher looked skeptical, but said nothing, and the matter
+dropped for the time being. As it happened Denis was still ignorant that
+his sister had been the mistress of the lawyer, else there might have
+been trouble. He had but a confused idea of Hilliston's connection with
+the case, and, beyond knowing that he was the owner of the garnet
+scarfpin, could not conceive that he had been actually present in the
+garden when the murder was committed. True it was that the scarfpin had
+been found on the spot where the corpse of Jeringham had lain, but
+assured by his master that Hilliston was innocent, as Captain Larcher
+had truly believed these many years, Denis never gave the matter a
+second thought. Now he would learn the truth from Mrs. Bezel.
+
+Denis only came back in the afternoon, looking much put out. The ruin of
+his much loved sister by Jeringham had been a great blow to him, but the
+discovery that she was alive and had been living in sin with Hilliston
+startled him considerably. He could hardly reply to the questions of his
+master, but ultimately related that they had parted friends. Mrs. Bezel
+had told him that the doctor assured her she could not live much longer;
+and in the shadow of death Denis had freely forgiven her all her sins
+and follies.
+
+"And, indeed, sir, what else could I do," said Denis, wiping the tears
+from his eyes, "when I saw the poor thing lying there like a corpse?
+It's a bitter time she's had of it, these last ten years, in that
+death-in-life state. Oh yes, captain, I forgave her freely, poor soul!"
+
+"And Hilliston?" asked Larcher inquiringly.
+
+"May his black soul burn," cried Denis, with a scowl. "Were I or he
+younger I'd leave my mark on him. Mona had a letter from him saying he
+was calling to see her this evening, but that he had an appointment with
+you, sir."
+
+"With me, Denis! It is the first I have heard of it. Where is he?"
+
+At this moment, as if in response to his question, the door opened and
+Tait appeared, looking very disturbed.
+
+"Mr. Hilliston is here, Captain Larcher, and wishes to speak with you."
+
+Claude had entered the room by another door, and, on hearing this,
+stepped forward looking slightly pale. He slipped his arm within that of
+his father, as though to protect the elder man. Then they all waited to
+hear what Captain Larcher had to say. The permission for the interview
+must come from the man who had been most deeply wronged. He thought for
+a moment or so with a frown on his face, then sank into a chair with a
+deep sigh.
+
+"Denis, stand behind me," he said, in a peremptory tone. "Claude, sit
+down yonder. Now, Mr. Tait, we are ready to see our friend."
+
+Tait anticipated this permission, and was already prepared for it.
+Without a word he threw open the door, and Hilliston, dressed in deep
+mourning, entered the room with a paper in his hand. He looked pale and
+worn, his fresh color was gone, and as he spoke he kept his eyes
+persistently on the ground. It could be easily seen that the man had
+received a shock from which he would not easily recover.
+
+"I have called to see you and deliver this," he said, in a low tone,
+placing the paper he carried on the table. "I do not ask your
+forgiveness, Larcher, for I do not consider I have done anything to
+justify your anger against me."
+
+"You could have saved me all these years of anguish by telling me the
+truth," said Larcher indignantly.
+
+"Perhaps! But it was not to my interest to tell you the truth."
+
+"I don't wonder at that," said Claude bitterly. "You were afraid of the
+law."
+
+"Perhaps," said Hilliston again. "On the other hand I may not be so
+guilty as you think me. You will find the truth in that paper."
+
+He pointed toward the table, and the eyes of all immediately turned in
+that direction, while Hilliston moved toward the door.
+
+"Having fulfilled the promise I made to my dead wife, I now take my
+leave," he said quietly. "I will never see any of you again, and some
+day you may learn that you have misjudged me. Good-by."
+
+He opened the door, but before he could pass through Denis sprang
+forward.
+
+"My sister?" he said, with an indignant look in his eyes.
+
+"I am about to repair the wrong I did her," replied the lawyer gravely.
+"By to-morrow she will be my wife."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+                               THE TRUTH.
+
+
+HILLISTON came and went in the space of a few minutes. None of those
+present made any attempt to stay his exit, but as the door closed after
+him they looked at one another in silence. Thinking of Hilliston's last
+speech, Denis was the first to speak.
+
+"What does that mean, sir?" he asked his master, with an air of helpless
+bewilderment.
+
+"I think it can only mean one thing, Denis," replied Larcher, rousing
+himself. "Mr. Hilliston has at length awakened to the fact of his
+dastardly treatment of your sister, and is about to make reparation for
+the past. He intends to marry her."
+
+"But his wife only died a few days ago, master."
+
+"I know that. But Mrs. Bezel will also die shortly, and if Hilliston
+desires to atone for the past he has no time to lose. He can marry her
+at once, but he will again be a widower within the month."
+
+Denis lifted a pair of shaking hands, and slowly left the room, followed
+by the sympathetic looks of the others. He did not even pause to learn
+the contents of the sealed envelope left by Mr. Hilliston. Great as was
+his curiosity to learn all that had taken place on that fatal night, his
+love and grief for his sister were greater still. Bowed and gray and
+older-looking than ever, he departed; but in his heart there was one
+comfortable thought--Mona would die an honest woman, if Mr. Hilliston
+was to be believed.
+
+When the three found themselves alone, Captain Larcher picked up the
+sealed letter with some reluctance.
+
+"Strange," he said, balancing it in his hand. "For years I have been
+eager to know the truth. Now that I have only to open this envelope to
+learn it, I feel half afraid."
+
+"Nevertheless, it will be as well to lose no time in making ourselves
+acquainted with the contents," said Tait eagerly, for he was in a fever
+of impatience to know all. "It may be a confession by Hilliston."
+
+"I think not. It is directed to me in the handwriting of Mrs.
+Hilliston."
+
+"To Ferdinand Paynton?"
+
+"No. To Captain Larcher."
+
+"H'm!" said Tait, with a start. "How did Mrs. Hilliston know you were
+Captain Larcher? Did she see you at Thorston?"
+
+"No. But her husband doubtless informed her of my real name. However, we
+will learn all from this," said Larcher, breaking the seal. "I believe
+this is a confession by Mrs. Hilliston."
+
+"But what can she have to confess?" cried Claude, as his father smoothed
+out a closely written letter. "She can know nothing of the tragedy."
+
+"You forget," said Tait, with a sudden recollection, "Louisa Sinclair;
+she was at Horriston, and, according to Mona Bantry, was in the garden
+of The Laurels on that night. I would not be surprised if she saw the
+committal of the crime."
+
+"What! Do you think she is about to betray her husband?"
+
+"Oh," said Tait significantly, "we are by no means sure of Hilliston's
+guilt!"
+
+Larcher found that the writing was too small for him to read
+comfortably, so handed the letter to Claude, with a request that he
+should read it out aloud. Excusing himself on the plea of the
+illegibility of the writing, Claude passed it to Tait, who accepted the
+office with avidity. The letter was without date or direction, and began
+in an abrupt manner, highly suggestive of the agitation under which it
+had been written. Tait mentally noted these points, and began.
+
+                               * * * * *
+
+"This confession is to be read after my death by Captain George Larcher,
+and, if he sees fit, he has my free permission to make it public. Still
+I trust out of regret for the memory of an unhappy woman that he will
+not do so save in the arising of two contingencies. First, should he be
+still alive, and accused of murdering Mr. Jeringham. Second, should my
+dear husband be accused of the crime. In the event of the occurrence of
+either of these contingencies, I authorize him to make these pages
+public.
+
+"To explain myself I must go back twenty-six years, when I was residing
+at Horriston. You, Captain Larcher, will remember me well as Louisa
+Sinclair, for at that time I saw a great deal of yourself and your wife.
+I saw too much of her, for my eyes were sharp, and, but for a natural
+reluctance to disturb your domestic peace, I could have enlightened you
+as to her conduct. She was never worthy of a good man like you. She was
+as bad as I afterward became, and that is saying a great deal, as you
+will see by reading on.
+
+"I loved Francis Hilliston, your intimate friend. Belinda Pike loved him
+also, but there was no need for either of us to be jealous of the other,
+for Mr. Hilliston loved a third person; none other than your wife. No
+doubt you will be angry when you read this, but your anger cannot alter
+facts. Yes, your dearest friend loved your wife. Let him deny that if he
+can."
+
+At this point there was a marginal note by Hilliston: "I do deny it, and
+but that I am not in a position to do so I would not let George
+Larcher's eyes rest on this confession. My poor wife was insanely
+jealous of Mrs. Larcher, but I swear that she had no grounds to be so. I
+admired Mrs. Larcher as a friend, nothing more, and I loved Mona Bantry.
+She is the only woman who has ever attracted me, and, notwithstanding my
+marriage, now dissolved by death, she attracts me still."
+
+This note was hastily scribbled in pencil, and after Tait had read it,
+without interruption from Captain Larcher, he continued the confession:
+
+"I admit that I was jealous of his attentions to your wife," continued
+Mrs. Hilliston, "for though I did all in my power I could not win him to
+my side. Regarding the efforts of Belinda Pike, I say nothing. She tried
+to gain his love, and she failed. I was more successful in the end, but
+not till the lapse of many years. Here I may say that I have gypsy blood
+in my veins, which at times renders me insanely jealous, and in such a
+state I am capable of all things. A recollection of this may enlighten
+you as to my acting as I did in the garden of The Laurels.
+
+"I knew that your wife loved Jeringham, and could have told you of it. I
+am sorry I did not now, as she would have been disgraced, and then
+Francis might have turned to me for consolation. But I held my peace,
+and paid the cost of doing so. I am doing so now; you also; for if you
+had been forewarned you would never have had to conceal yourself under a
+feigned name on account of Jeringham's death.
+
+"At the fancy dress ball held at the Town Hall, matters came to a
+climax. My gypsy blood made me mad on that night, owing to the way in
+which I was neglected by Francis Hilliston. With some difficulty I
+learned that your wife was to be dressed as Mary, Queen of Scots, and,
+with a view to making myself attractive in Hilliston's eyes, I chose the
+same dress. With the assistance of the dressmaker who worked for us
+both, I obtained a dress similar in all respects to that of Mrs.
+Larcher, hoping that by doing so he would speak to me under the
+impression that I was your wife. My stratagem was successful. I was
+masked and dressed as she was; he spoke to me, thinking I was she, and I
+learned then how he loved her. At that moment I could have killed her. I
+could have killed him."
+
+Here there was another note in Hilliston's handwriting: "Again I say
+that the poor creature was mistaken. I did speak to her under the
+impression that she was Mrs. Larcher, but I said nothing that she could
+construe into a declaration of love. Her jealousy rendered her mad, and
+she distorted the idle words I spoke. She took them up in the wrong
+sense."
+
+"My suspicions were confirmed later on," continued the confession, "for
+I overheard them talking together; yes, Francis Hilliston and your wife
+were in a corner together, talking of love. I listened. It was mean to
+do so; but then, I was in love and would have stooped to any degradation
+to have rescued him from her clutches. They talked about a dagger which
+he had given her to complete her dress. Aha! he did not think to
+complete my costume with such a gift. Mrs. Larcher took the dagger out
+of its sheath and together they examined it. She blamed him for putting
+an inscription on it, saying it would make her husband jealous. Francis
+laughed, and said that you would never suspect him. Then Mrs. Larcher
+slipped the dagger back in the sheath, as she thought; but in reality it
+slipped down among the folds of her dress, and when she arose to go it
+fell on the ground. They departed, and I picked up the dagger.
+
+"At once I looked at the inscription, and there it was on the gold
+handle--'To J. L., from F. H.' I was so enraged that I could have broken
+the dagger. I tried to, but it was too strong for me. Therefore I thrust
+it into my waistband and went in search of Hilliston to return it to
+him, and reproach him for giving it to Mrs. Larcher. I saw him, wrapped
+in his cloak, go out with Mrs. Larcher. He was seeing her home, and in a
+frenzy of jealous rage I resolved to follow."
+
+Margin note by Hilliston: "It was not I who went home with Mrs. Larcher,
+but Jeringham. I was dressed that evening as a Venetian senator, and
+wore a long black cloak. This Jeringham borrowed from me to conceal his
+fancy dress when he left the Town Hall. My wife thought it was me, but
+she was mistaken. I went home with George Larcher, as he knows."
+
+The confession continues: "They left in Mrs. Larcher's carriage, and I,
+hastily wrapping a cloak round me, followed in a fly. When I got to The
+Laurels they were talking together at the door, and the carriage had
+driven round to the stables. I sat back in my fly, for the driver did
+not know who I was, and watched. I saw Mrs. Larcher kiss Hilliston and
+run inside. Then I went out of my mind--I was possessed by a devil. He
+came down the path and turned midway to look back at the house. I had my
+hand on the dagger--it tempted me, and I sprang out on him. He turned
+sharply round, and had I not been blinded with rage I would have then
+recognized him. But I hardly knew what I was doing, and, before he could
+utter a word, I buried the dagger in his heart, when he fell with a
+choking cry. I knelt down beside him, and withdrew the dagger. Then I
+heard a sound, dropped the weapon, and fled.
+
+"Some little distance off I ran into the arms of Francis Hilliston. I
+shrieked as though I had seen a ghost, and told him I had killed a
+man--that I had intended to kill him. He explained the mistake of the
+cloak, and said I must have murdered Jeringham. Then he saved my life.
+No one had seen me come to The Laurels, no one had seen me in the
+garden; so Francis took me back to Horriston, and I returned to the ball
+without anyone having suspected my absence.
+
+"The next day the news of the disappearance of Jeringham was all over
+the town; afterward the body was discovered down the river, and mistaken
+for that of Mr. Larcher. Francis advised me for my own sake to hold my
+tongue. I did so, and shortly afterward I went on a visit to a sister of
+mine in America. Francis refused to marry me on account of my crime. In
+America I married Derrick, the millionaire; he died, and I returned to
+London. I found Francis greatly in want of money, and as I still loved
+him, I married him. No one but us two knew who really killed Jeringham,
+but for your sake, Captain Larcher, I acknowledge my guilt lest you
+should be found out and accused of the crime. I could say much more, but
+this is enough. When you read this I will be dead, and my last words I
+swear are true. I and none other killed Mark Jeringham in mistake for
+Francis Hilliston."
+
+Note by Hilliston: "It will be seen that my wife was actuated all
+through by jealousy, but I swear she had no reason. I loved Mona, not
+Mrs. Larcher, nor her. I saved her life because she committed the crime
+for my sake; I married her because I was on the verge of pecuniary ruin.
+I have nothing more to add. You can blame me if you like, but I consider
+I have acted all through as I was forced by circumstances."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLV.
+
+                      A FEW WORDS BY SPENSER TAIT.
+
+
+WHEN the case has been stated, when the witnesses for and against have
+given their evidence, when the counsel on both sides have delivered
+their speeches, it is then customary for the judge to sum up the entire
+matter for the direction of the jury. In this instance I am the judge,
+and here is the Larcher affair summed up for the understanding of the
+public. It has fallen to my share to wind up the story, so here I set
+down such results as happened from the confession of Mrs. Hilliston.
+
+The immediate result of her death was the marriage of the widower to
+Mrs. Bezel, which took place, so to speak, when the latter was on her
+deathbed. She lingered out another two months, and died in the arms of
+her husband, at peace with all the world. Denis heartily forgave her,
+and the only bitter drop in her cup was the absence of her child. Yet
+when Captain Larcher suggested that Jenny should be told the truth, and
+brought to say good-by to her mother, Mrs. Bezel, with a self-denial for
+which I hardly gave her credit, refused to permit such a thing. She
+thought that Jenny would be happier if she was ignorant of the truth,
+and moreover, Mrs. Bezel shrank from letting her child know how she had
+lived during these many years. At all events Jenny never learned the
+truth, and Mrs. Bezel died without seeing her daughter. That she forgave
+Hilliston for having deprived her of the child is, I think, a proof of
+her goodness of heart, for there is no doubt that he acted selfishly and
+cruelly in doing so. But enough of Mrs. Bezel, her faults and virtues.
+She lies in Hampstead Cemetery under a plain stone of rose-colored
+granite, inscribed "To the memory of Mona Hilliston." So she had her
+wish at last, and died an honest woman.
+
+Captain Larcher returned with Kerry to the cottage in Nightingale Lane,
+as he could not make up his mind to resume his own name, or tear himself
+away from the bookworm life of twenty-five years. No one knew the truth
+save Claude, Jenny, and myself, for Hilliston being absent from England
+does not count. The vicar was also enlightened on the subject, and
+expressed much astonishment at the strange series of events which had
+culminated in the death and confession of Mrs. Hilliston. Unwilling to
+lose his old crony he heartily approved of Larcher's determination to
+resume his usual life, and so the matter was settled. Captain Larcher
+will remain Mr. Ferdinand Paynton to the end of his days, and will still
+be a mystery to the gossips of Thorston; how great a one they can never
+guess.
+
+But a notable change has taken place in his habits. He is no longer a
+recluse, a misanthrope. When I am at the Manor House he visits me there;
+he is a constant guest at the vicarage, and may be seen frequently
+fishing beside Kerry on the banks of the Lax. Following the example of
+his master, Denis Bantry also renounced his name, which he
+superstitiously regarded as one of ill-omen, and called himself Kerry
+for the rest of his life. If he was grieved for his unhappy sister, her
+life and her death, he finds consolation in the society of Mrs. Claude
+Larcher, who conducts herself toward him as a niece should do. But the
+relationship is not known beyond the walls of Rose Cottage, lest it
+might lead to inquiries, and Jenny is still known as the daughter of Mr.
+Paynton.
+
+That Claude should call Mr. Paynton "father" is of course only regarded
+as natural by the village. Has he not married Jenny, and does he not
+stand in the relation of a son to the old man? Thorston gossips think he
+is a most perfect son-in-law, and never guess that any nearer
+relationship exists between them.
+
+Of course Jenny and Claude were married as speedily as possible, and I
+do not know a happier couple. Mrs. Larcher has quite converted me with
+regard to the fair sex, and plumes herself on her victory. She has the
+audacity to say that she will yet succeed in getting me married, but I
+think that is beyond her powers. Mr. Linton married them, and they spent
+their honeymoon at the Manor House, which I lent them for the occasion.
+Indeed, while at Thorston they invariably live with me, and I should be
+offended did they take up their quarters anywhere else. Not that they
+have any desire to do so, for Rose Cottage is rather small, and,
+besides, the Manor is within easy distance of it, so that Jenny can see
+her father--or, rather, her father-in-law--as often as she chooses.
+
+Claude still goes to different parts of the world to build bridges and
+construct railways. Sometimes his wife goes with him, but she does not
+like to be so long away from Thorston. Paynton is now an old man, and
+cannot live long, so Mrs. Larcher wishes to be near him as much as
+possible. Besides, the cares of the nursery take up her attention, so I
+think that in a few months Claude will settle down to business in
+London, and make his home at Thorston, as he always intended to do.
+There is a pleasant little place not far from the Manor which I have
+been commissioned to buy for him, so I really think that next year
+Claude and Jenny will take up their residence among us.
+
+The only person who disapproved of the marriage was Frank Linton, who
+accused Jenny of jilting him. This was utter nonsense, as she never had
+any intention of becoming his wife. However, the author considers
+himself badly treated, and has taken up his quarters in London, where he
+writes books, and poses in Chelsea circles. But I do not think he will
+ever write so excellent a book as "A Whim of Fate," perhaps because Mrs.
+Claude Larcher refuses to tell him any more plots. She has a good reason
+for so doing, as the troubles which arose out of her finding the murder
+papers in the garret of Rose Cottage have startled her in no small
+degree. Still, as I tell her, she must look on such troubles as a
+blessing in disguise, for, after all, they led to her marriage and
+present happiness. But Mrs. Claude does not see the matter in so amiable
+a light.
+
+Finally, Hilliston! It is hard to say what has become of that gentleman.
+After the death of his second wife, he withdrew from business and went
+abroad. There I believe he is still, and from what I hear of him at odd
+times he seems to have developed into a kind of Wandering Jew. France,
+Italy, Austria, Germany, Russia, he has seen all these places, and is
+constantly traveling about, no doubt trying to live down the past.
+Whether he will succeed in doing so it is hard to say.
+
+After some consideration I have come to the conclusion that we have been
+rather hard on Hilliston. He did not love Mrs. Larcher, in spite of his
+wife's insane jealousy on the point, and I believe he was sincerely
+attached to Mona Bantry. The blot on his character is that he did not
+marry her when she first came to London, and seeing that he was in love
+with her, I profess my inability to explain why he did not do so.
+Perhaps it was on account of her low birth, or the circumstances which
+connected her with Jeringham, but at all events he did not marry her
+till it was too late for the poor creature's happiness. Otherwise I do
+not see how he could have acted differently. Louisa Sinclair was guilty
+of the murder, but as she did it on his account, and was wildly in love
+with him, it was to his honor that he protected her as he did. Whether
+he would have told the truth had Mrs. Larcher been convicted I do not
+know, but as Louisa Sinclair did not leave for America till Mrs. Larcher
+was released, I think Hilliston would have persuaded her to confess
+openly in the event of a conviction.
+
+It is true that he married her for her money, but I think he was touched
+by her devotion, and gave her some love. No doubt it was Mrs.
+Hilliston's remorse for condemning his father to lifelong seclusion that
+made her so kind to Claude when he was a lad. Now it is easy to see why
+Hilliston was reluctant that Claude and I should investigate the case.
+He was afraid lest the truth should be found out, and his wife arrested.
+I was wrong in my surmise. Hilliston was not afraid for himself, but for
+the unhappy woman who had killed Jeringham in mistake for him. The whole
+mystery would have been solved years ago had Dicky Pental spoken out as
+he should have done. But the fear of being shut up in an asylum closed
+his mouth, and so the case was at a standstill for five-and-twenty long
+years.
+
+It was strange that Jenny, who set the ball rolling, should have been
+the indirect means of avenging her father's murder--or rather of solving
+the mystery which concealed it. Had she not discovered those papers in
+the garret, she would not have been able to give Frank Linton the plot
+of "A Whim of Fate." Had that novel not been written and published, Mrs.
+Bezel would not have read it, and thereby have been induced to write to
+Claude. Had she not done so, Hilliston would not have told Claude the
+truth, thence we would not have taken up the investigation and solved
+the mystery. It was Jenny who was responsible for the whole. After
+five-and-twenty years the child of the murdered man unconsciously
+enlightened us as to the person who had slain him. Fate works in strange
+ways.
+
+But I do not wish to figure further as a detective. This one experience
+has been quite enough for me. The thought, the anguish, the trouble is
+too worrying. The next criminal case in the Larcher family can look
+after itself. I abandon the rôle of detective, and thus put the last
+word to my only criminal case.
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+
+
+
+                           A SELECTED LIST OF
+                            NOVELS AND TALES
+                              PUBLISHED BY
+                      THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.,
+             _31 E. 17th St._ (_Union Square_), _New York_.
+                  Alphabetically arranged by Authors.
+
+
+                                                        Cloth      Paper
+
+ABOUT, EDMOND. Mother of a Marquise                     $0 75      $0 50
+ADEE, DAVID G. No. 19 State Street                         75         50
+ALARÇON, P. A. DE. Moors and Christians                    75         50
+   "         "              The Child of the Ball          75         50
+   "         "              The Three-Cornered Hat         75         50
+ALLEN, GRANT. Blood Royal                                  75         50
+       "               The Scallywag                     1 00         ..
+ALEXANDER, MRS. Broken Links. A Love Story               1 00         ..
+      "                  The Snare of the Fowler         1 00         50
+BAIN, R. N. Pretty Michal                                  75         50
+BARR, ROBT. In a Steamer Chair                             75         50
+BARRETT, FRANK. Out of the Jaws of Death                 1 00         50
+          "              The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane     75         50
+BARRIE, J. M. Auld Licht Idylls                          1 00         ..
+     "                 A Window in Thrums                1 00         25
+     "                 My Lady Nicotine                  1 00         25
+BAZÁN, EMILIA PARDO. A Christian Woman                     75         50
+     "          "             A Wedding Trip               75         50
+     "          "             Morriña                    1 00         ..
+     "          "             Swan of Vilamorta            75         50
+     "          "             The Angular Stone            75         50
+BAZIN, RENÉ. A Blot of Ink                                 75         50
+BECKETT, C. H. Who is John Noman?                          75         50
+BETHUNE, J. G. The Third Man                               75         50
+BIERCE, AMBROSE. Can Such Things Be?                       75         50
+BRADDON, M. E. All Along the River                       1 00         ..
+BREHET, ALFRED. Bras d'Acier                               75         50
+BRYCE, LLOYD. Friends in Exile                           1 00         ..
+BUCHANAN, ROBERT. The Wedding Ring                         75         50
+CLIFFORD, MRS. W. K. A Wild Proxy                        1 00         ..
+COBB, JR., SYLVANUS. Bion, the Wanderer                    75         50
+   "           "     Gunmaker of Moscow                    75         50
+   "           "     Karmel, the Scout                     75         50
+   "           "     Orion, the Goldbeater                 75         50
+   "           "     Painter of Parma                      75         50
+   "           "     Smuggler of King's Cove               75         50
+DAUDET, ALPHONSE. Rose and Ninette                         75         50
+DALE, DARLEY. Lottie's Wooing                            1 00         ..
+DANE, DANIEL. Vengeance is Mine                          1 00         50
+DEBANS, CAMILLE. Gabriel's Vocation                        75         50
+ELIOT, ANNIE. An Hour's Promise                            75         50
+FARJEON, B. L. A Fair Jewess                             1 00         ..
+      "        The Last Tenant                           1 00         ..
+FAWCETT, EDGAR. A New York Family                        1 00         50
+FENN, G. MANVILLE. Commodore Junk                          75         50
+         "         Nurse Elisia                          1 00         ..
+         "         Witness to the Deed                   1 00         ..
+FEUILLET, OCTAVE. An Artist's Honor                        75         50
+FLAMMARION, CAMILLE. Lumen                                 75         50
+     "         "     Uranie                                75         50
+FLOYD, ISOBEL HENDERSON. Stolen America                    75         50
+FRANCKE, PAUL M. A Blot of Ink                             75         50
+GAUTIER, THÉOPHILE. Juancho the Bull-Fighter               75         50
+GORDON, JULIEN. His Letters                              1 00         ..
+      "         Marionettes                              1 00         50
+GRAND, SARAH. The Heavenly Twins                         1 00         ..
+GRÉVILLE, MME. HENRI. A Mystery                            75         50
+GRIGOROVITCH, DIMITRY. The Cruel City                      75         50
+HAKE, THOS. ST. E. Within Sound of the Weir                75         50
+HALE, EDWARD EVERETT. A New England Boyhood              1 00         ..
+       "        "     East and West                      1 00         ..
+       "        "     Sybil Knox                         1 00         ..
+HANNAN, CHARLES. A Swallow's Wing                          75         50
+HARBEN, W. N. White Marie                                  75         50
+HARLAND, HENRY. As it was Written                        1 00         50
+       "        Grandison Mather                         1 25         50
+       "        Latin-Quarter Courtship                    75         50
+       "        Mrs. Peixada                             1 00         50
+       "        The Two Voices                             50         ..
+       "        Two Women or One?                          75         ..
+       "        Yoke of the Thorah                       1 00         50
+HARLAND, MARION. Mr. Wayt's Wife's Sister                1 00         ..
+HARRIS, A. L. The Fatal Request                            75         50
+HARRISON, MRS. BURTON. A Daughter of the South           1 00         ..
+           "           Flower de Hundred                 1 00         50
+           "           The Anglomaniacs                  1 00         50
+HATTON, JOSEPH. Under the Great Seal                     1 00         ..
+HAWTHORNE, JULIAN. John Parmelee's Curse                   75         50
+HOPE, ANTHONY. Father Stafford                             75         50
+HORNUNG, E. Tiny Luttrell                                1 00         ..
+HUDSON, W. C. Jack Gordon, Knight-Errant                   75         50
+      "       On the Rack                                  75         50
+      "       The Diamond Button                           75         50
+      "       The Dugdale Millions                         75         50
+      "       The Man with a Thumb                         75         50
+      "       Vivier                                       75         50
+INCA-PANCHA-OZOLLO. The Lost Inca                          75         50
+JOKAI, MAURUS. Dr. Dumány's Wife                           75         50
+       "       Pretty Michal                               75         50
+KEELING, ELSA D'ESTERRE. Orchardscroft                   1 00         ..
+KEENAN, HENRY F. Trajan                                  1 50         50
+KEITH, LESLIE. 'Lisbeth                                  1 00         ..
+LA FOREST, DEBUT. Renée and Colette                        75         50
+LANDON, MELVILLE D. Thirty Years of Wit, etc             1 50         50
+LATHROP, GEO. PARSONS. Two Sides of a Story                75         50
+LEMAÎTRE, JULES. Prince Hermann, Regent                    75         50
+LE QUEUX, WM. Strange Tales of a Nihilist                  75         50
+LOTI, PIERRE. The Book of Pity and of Death                75         50
+      "       Jean Berny, Sailor                         1 00         ..
+MAIRET, MME. JEANNE. An Artist                             75         50
+MALLOCK, W. H. A Human Document                            75         50
+MARRYAT, FLORENCE. Parson Jones                          1 00         ..
+MARY, JULES. The Shadow of Roger Laroque                   75         50
+MCCLELLAND, M. G. Burkett's Lock                           75         50
+MCCLELLAND, M. G. Madame Silva                             75         50
+MCDOUGALL, W. H. The Hidden City                           75         50
+MEADE, L. T. Out of the Fashion                          1 00         ..
+     "       The Medicine Lady                           1 00         ..
+MEREDITH, WM. T. Not of Her Father's Race                  75         50
+MITFORD, BERTRAND. 'Tween Snow and Fire                    75         50
+MOLESWORTH, MRS. Leona                                   1 00         ..
+MONTAGUE, C. H., and C. W. DYAR. Written in Red            75         50
+MOORE, FRANK F. I Forbid the Banns                       1 00         ..
+MOURIOT, MLLE. V. Madame Rosély                          1 00         ..
+OHNET, GEORGES. A Debt of Hatred                           75         50
+      "         Nimrod & Co                                75         50
+      "         The Soul of Pierre                         75         50
+PAGE, ANNA DYER. An Artist                                 75         50
+      "      "   A Mystery                                 75         50
+PARR, MRS. The Squire                                    1 00         50
+POTAPEEKO, N. E. A Russian Priest                          75         50
+      "          The General's Daughter                    75         50
+QUILLER-COUCH, A. T. ("Q"). A Blot of Ink                  75         50
+       "          "         Blue Pavilions                 75         50
+QUILLER-COUCH, A. T. ("Q"). Dead Man's Rock                75         50
+       "          "         I Saw Three Ships              75         50
+       "          "         Noughts and Crosses            75         50
+       "          "         The Splendid Spur              75         50
+       "          "         The Astonishing History
+                              of Troy Town                 75         50
+QUIGG, L. E. Tin Types                                   1 50         50
+RICKETT, J. COMPTON. The Quickening of Caliban           1 00         ..
+RICHEBOURG, ÉMILE. Old Raclot's Million                    75         50
+ROBERTS, MORLEY. Mate of the Vancouver                     75         50
+RUSSELL, W. CLARK. List, Ye Landsmen                     1 00         ..
+         "         Romance of a Transport                1 00         ..
+         "         The Emigrant Ship                     1 00         ..
+SACHER-MASOCH, L. VON. The New Job                         75         50
+SALE, PIERRE. The Price of a Coronet                       75         50
+SHAPCOTT, REUBEN. Auto. of Mark Rutherford               1 00         ..
+        "         Mark Rutherford's Deliverance          1 00         ..
+        "         Revolution in Tanner's Lane            1 00         ..
+SHERARD, R. H. By Right, Not Law                           75         50
+SOUVESTRE, ÉMILE. Man and Money                            75         50
+SPENCER, MRS. G. E. A Plucky One                           75         50
+STERNE, STUART. The Story of Two Lives                     75         50
+STODDARD, ELIZABETH. Two Men                               75         50
+         "           Temple House                          75         50
+         "           The Morgesons                         75         50
+STRETTON, HESBA. Half-Brothers                           1 00         ..
+SYLVA, CARMEN. Edleen Vaughan                              75         ..
+THOMAS, ANNIE. Utterly Mistaken                          1 00         ..
+THOMPSON, MAURICE. At Love's Extremes                      75         50
+         "         A Banker of Bankersville                75         50
+TOMPKINS, E. S. DE G. An Honest Hypocrite                  75         50
+VALDES, A. P. Faith                                        75         50
+VALENTINE, JANE. Time's Scythe                             75         50
+VAN ZILE, EDWARD S. Last of the Van Slacks                 75         50
+    "        "      Don Miguel, etc.                       75         50
+VERNE, JULES. Cæsar Cascabel                             1 00         50
+      "       Mistress Branican                          1 00         50
+WALWORTH, MRS. J. H. Baldy's Point                         75         50
+    "         "      Bar Sinister                          75         50
+    "         "      New Man at Rossmere                   75         50
+    "         "      Without Blemish                       75         50
+WEYMAN, S. J. Story of Francis Cludde                    1 00         50
+     "        The Man in Black                           1 00         ..
+WOOLF, PHILIP, M. D.         Who is Guilty?                75         50
+WOOD, J. S. An Old Beau                                  1 00         ..
+ZOLA, ÉMILE. Doctor Pascal                               1 00         50
+     "       The Downfall                                1 50         50
+
+
+
+
+                           Transcriber Notes:
+
+Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.
+
+Passages in bold were indicated by =equal signs=.
+
+Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.
+
+Throughout the document, the oe ligature was replaced with "oe".
+
+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 31, "Nevertheles" was replaced with "Nevertheless".
+
+On page 51, the comma after "John Parver herself" was replaced with a
+period.
+
+On page 53, "Hillison" was replaced with "Hilliston".
+
+On page 73, the period after "valued this spendor" was replaced with a
+question mark.
+
+On page 82, "fufilled" was replaced with "fulfilled/".
+
+On page 102, "CHAPER" was replaced with "CHAPTER".
+
+On page 107, "the the" was replaced with "the".
+
+On page 116, "was" was added before "by no means".
+
+On page 122, "Jerringham" was replaced with "Jeringham".
+
+On page 125, a quotation mark as added after "That's strange.".
+
+On page 127, "Hillston" was replaced with "Hilliston".
+
+On page 136, "was" was added before "now perfectly composed".
+
+On page 145, the period after "description of the scarfpin" was replaced
+with a question mark.
+
+On page 150, "bundle old newspapers" was replaced with "bundle of old
+newspapers".
+
+On page 162, "clever conversation that" was replaced with "clever
+conversation than".
+
+On page 162, "and like to" was replaced with "and liked to".
+
+On page 208, "idylic" was replaced with "idyllic".
+
+On page 210, the quotation mark was removed after "to their
+accomplishment.".
+
+On page 212, a comma was added after "he said".
+
+On page 224, the period after "only be Jeringham" was replaced with a
+comma.
+
+On page 267, "Jerringham" was replaced with "Jeringham".
+
+On page 280, the period after "with the case" was replaced with a comma.
+
+On page 284, a comma was added after "into the garden".
+
+On page 311, the period after "we ought to proceed" was replaced with a
+question mark.
+
+On page 323, the quotation mark after "not tended to improve it." was
+removed.
+
+On the first page of Selected List of Novels and Tales, a period was
+added after "Edmond".
+
+On the second page of Selected List of Novels and Tales, ".." was added
+in the line for "Farjeon, B. L."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Third Volume, by Fergus Hume
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43288 ***