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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..943d6b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51307 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51307) diff --git a/old/51307-8.txt b/old/51307-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c48b286..0000000 --- a/old/51307-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9031 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of This House To Let, by William Le Queux - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: This House To Let - -Author: William Le Queux - -Release Date: February 24, 2016 [EBook #51307] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS HOUSE TO LET *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -THIS HOUSE TO LET - -By William Le Queux - -Hodder And Stoughton Limited - -London - -1921 - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -|Very early on a July morning in 1919 Constable Brown was on his beat in -Kensington, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cathcart Square. - -Cathcart Square was an old-fashioned backwater of this highly -respectable suburb. It had not been built on any regular lines. Small, -narrow houses nestled comfortably by the side of what might be called -mansions. At the entrance to the Square itself, a narrow-fronted -milk-shop stood next door to a palatial residence. The dairy was very -old, and the Square, with its strange agglomeration of houses, had been -built round it. - -Constable Brown, a tall, strapping young fellow, took his duties easily. -He was quite contented with his lot, and not thirsting for promotion; he -had no overweening sense of his own abilities. He was friendly with all -the cooks on his beat, and from them he received very choice tit-bits. -In his case, the policeman's lot was a fairly happy one. - -The morning was a very bright one, a somewhat powerful summer sun had -just risen, and flooded the streets with light. - -He had no need of his lantern, early in the morning as it was. He -strolled slowly round the Square, turning observant eyes on an the -houses. In his patrol, he met nobody. The busy world of commerce was not -yet astir. Only from afar he heard the distant rumbling of market-carts -on their way to Covent Garden, market-carts laden with fruit and -vegetables. - -The Square was sleeping. In a few more hours it would wake to vigorous -life. The dairy shop would take down its shutters, and show signs of -animation. And when the dairy shop took down its shutters, Constable -Brown would be relieved, and go home to enjoy his well-earned rest. - -All was quiet in the Square. Brown had patrolled it several times in his -nightly vigil, and had discovered no signs of marauders. - -He paused opposite No. 10, one of the few big houses. He looked -contemplatively at the board announcing in large type--THIS HOUSE TO -LET: FURNISHED-with the agent's name displayed prominently at the foot -of the bill. - -"Only house to let in the Square," ruminated Brown, as he stood reading -the bill for perhaps the hundredth time. "It's been empty now for over -three months. It ought to have been snapped up long ago." - -He was right. Houses in Cathcart Square did not wait long for tenants. -Mr. Brown ruminated further, and provided his own solution. - -"Old Miles, the caretaker, has got too comfortable quarters, he doesn't -want to flit. When people come to view, he talks to them about damp, or -ghosts or beetles, and chokes them off. Artful old devil, Miles, and a -bit too fond of drink." - -Having finished his patrol of the Square itself, he passed along the -backs, abutting on a somewhat mean street, for a rather undesirable -neighbourhood had built itself around these somewhat stately houses. - -His perambulations brought him to the back of No. 10, the house to let. -His trained eye, accustomed to take in the smallest details, noticed -a broken pane of glass in the scullery window. He climbed over the low -railing which shut off the back premises from the mean street on which -they looked, and peered at the broken window-pane. From a general point -of view there was not much in it. Window-panes are broken every day. But -this was an empty house, looked after by a somewhat bibulous caretaker -of the name of Miles. A hundred chances to one that Miles had stumbled -against it, and broken it with his elbow. - -But although Constable Brown was not very brilliant, he was painstaking -and methodical; his mind was slow but tenacious. He did not accept facts -at their face value. - -After peering through the broken pane, he proceeded to further -experiments. He lifted the window, and it went up easily. He drew his -deductions swiftly. Somebody had entered the empty house. That somebody -had smashed the pane in order to get at the latch, had entered the -house, later emerged through the window and forgotten to fasten it. - -But why enter an empty house, where there was nothing to steal except -the heavy furniture left by the late tenant, a Mr. Washington, who was -abroad? Brown knew for a fact from the caretaker that all silver and -plate had been lodged at Mr. Washington's bank. It was a puzzle. - -One thing was clear: his duty lay straight before him. He must go -over that empty house. A careful examination might reveal something or -nothing. - -But he was a very cautious man, and with no great belief in his own -powers. He would not make the examination alone. He blew his whistle for -further assistance. - -In a few seconds, a fellow constable, a smart young fellow, hurried up -to him. Brown pointed to the broken pane, the uplifted window. The smart -young man projected himself through the open space. Brown followed, -explaining as he went. - -They searched the basement, the ground floor, and the floor above--with -no result. - -"Now for the caretaker," said the younger and the more quick-witted of -the two policemen. - -"He sleeps up at the top," answered Brown. "He generally comes home -half-seas over. If a regiment was hammering at the door he would not -wake till his sleep was done." - -They went up to the caretaker's room on the top floor. The bed was -empty. Miles had evidently taken a holiday. - -The young constable grunted. "Seems a reliable sort of chap, doesn't he? -I wonder how long he has been away? The house agents can tell us if -they have sent any clients to view the house during the last twenty-four -hours, and whether they have been able to get in or not. Anyway, for the -present, he seems out of this job." - -Brown assented. He did not talk as much as his quicker-witted colleague, -but his rather slow mind was working at its normal speed. - -"We've got to examine the other floors, you know. I've made up my mind -to one thing--whoever came in here, robbery wasn't the object." - -"There I quite agree," remarked the younger man. - -They made their way down from the top floor, which consisted of three -attics. On the floor beneath this, they searched every room and found -nothing. - -But on the floor underneath their search was rewarded. In a small -dressing-room, leading off the bedroom which fronted the square, they -found a gruesome sight--the lifeless body of a man, comparatively young, -somewhere about thirty-five or so, a deep gash in his throat, in his -stiffened hand a razor. - -The two men gazed, horrified. It was an early summer morning, the sun -was shining through the windows, the birds were twittering in the trees. -Shortly the whole world would be astir. And here, in the small room, lay -the senseless clay, oblivious of all these signs of awakening life and -vigour. - -Brown was the first to speak. "Suicide!" he said hoarsely. "The poor -devil wanted to make an end of it, and crept in here, knowing it was an -empty house." - -The younger man spoke less convincingly. "It looks like it. Suicide, -as you say." He paused a moment, and then spoke slowly: "I think -it's suicide, but it might be--mind you, I only say might be--a very -carefully planned murder. And now, let us overhaul his pockets, we may -find something to establish identification." - -Together they bent down, and rummaged the dead man's pockets. They found -plenty of material for identification. - -As they were engaged in their gruesome task, they heard the sound of a -latch-key being put in the front-door. They heard the door banged to, -and heavy footsteps ascended the staircase. - -"Miles come back after his spree," whispered Constable Brown to the -younger man. - -Miles, all unsuspecting of what had taken place during his absence, came -heavily up the stairs. It could not be said that he was by any means -drunk, but he was not absolutely sober. He was slowly recovering from -the previous night's debauch. - -Arrived on the floor where the two policemen were conducting their -investigations, absolute sobriety came back to him. He saw the open -door of the dressing-room, two men in uniform kneeling by the side of an -inanimate object. His brain cleared as if by magic. He recognised in one -of the kneeling constables his old friend Brown. - -He indulged in a little profanity, born of his emotion, which need not -be set down here. Shorn of certain expletives, natural to a man of his -class, he inquired of Brown what was the matter. - -Brown on his side was cool and explicit, and instead of answering the -caretaker's questions, he preferred to put a few of his own. - -"Nice sort of caretaker you are," he said in a contemptuous voice. -"You're paid to look after this house, aren't you? Where were you -all last night I should like to know? You can see what has happened. -Somebody has got in through the back, either to commit suicide, or with -a companion who brought him here to murder him. That's got to be found -out before the Coroner." - -Miles pulled himself together. He was by no means a fool when sober, and -in sight of this ghastly object the fumes of last night's intoxication -had absolutely cleared. - -"I can show an alibi right enough," he said doggedly. - -The younger and readier-witted of the two constables looked up and spoke -sharply. "So far, my friend, we have not accused you, but you may as -well tell us the details of your alibi." - -Miles's explanation, delivered in the somewhat halting way of his class, -bore the ring of truth. An old acquaintance of his, whose name and -address he gave, had looked him up the day before and asked him to spend -a day with him at Shepperton, where the said acquaintance kept a small -shop. Miles had succumbed to the temptation. . - -"It drives a man fair off his blooming chump to be tied by the leg in a -hole like this," he interpolated in the midst of his narrative, "waiting -for would-be tenants who never call. I daresay you chaps do your eight -or ten hours a day, but you're out in the open air, not looking on four -walls. You see a bit of life, I don't." - -Constable Brown cut across his narrative swiftly. - -"Never mind your grievances, Miles. If you could get a better job, I -guess you would take it. Where did you spend the night?" - -"At the same old show, down at Shepperton," replied the unabashed Miles. -"My old pal's a sport, I can tell you. When he shut up his shop, he plied -me with some of the best. I wasn't backward, I admit. I missed the -last train back, and slept on the sofa in the back room. When I woke, I -remembered things a bit, and got an early train home. Here I am. My old -pal Jack will tell you I'm speaking gospel truth." - -Neither of the two men listening to him had any doubt that his narrative -was a true one. He was a poor, weak, bibulous creature, but by no -stretch of the imagination could he be an accessory to the gruesome -happenings at No. 10. - -Even had he been at his post, as he should have been on this particular -night, he would have been sunk in a stertorous sleep, and have heard -nothing. - -But to make everything sure, Constable Brown pulled him along and forced -him to look at the dead man. - -"You have never seen him before, Miles? I mean he has not called to look -over the house or anything?" - -"No." Miles, looking shudderingly at the ghastly sight, was ready to -swear he had never seen him before. - -He turned his frightened gaze away. "It will be all over the town -to-night," he said ruefully. "We shall never let the house after this." - -"It will still be a soft job for you, Miles," retorted Brown, a little -spitefully. "You won't have to play up the damp and the beetles. You are -here for life, old man." - -"I know," said Miles in a gloomy tone. "But I shall see him staring at -me every minute of the day and night." - -The body was removed to the mortuary. The evening newspapers had -flaring headlines: "Gruesome Discovery in No. 10 Cathcart Square." An -enterprising journalist had got hold of Miles, and speedily discovering -his weakness, had taken him to the nearest public-house, and plied him -plentifully with liquor, with a view to a sensational article. - -The enterprising reporter made the best of his material, but it did not -amount to much. - -The caretaker knew nothing about the dead man, he was armed at all -points with his alibi. As regards the house itself, invested with -so much tragedy, the present tenant was a Mr. Washington, a man of -considerable means, now abroad. Mr. Washington was prepared to let it -furnished. The furniture was very valuable. - -To a public greedily anxious for the smallest details, the astute -journalist served up a nice little article, describing the expensive -furniture, and adding a short life-history of Mr. Washington, as -supplied by the reminiscent Miles. The public swallowed this article -eagerly and awaited further developments. - -These came with the inquest, and there was a somewhat tame ending to -what had promised to be a very sensational case. - -Some three months previously, a certain man named Reginald Davis had -been suspected of committing a murder while driving a motor-car -in Cornwall. The evidence, although circumstantial, had been very -convincing. The police had been on his track, but not quickly enough. -The man had eluded their vigilance, and run to earth somewhere. - -On the body of the dead man in Cathcart Square, the two constables had -found three letters addressed to Reginald Davis. Also a letter, -signed Reginald Davis, addressed to the Coroner in which he avowed his -intention of committing suicide at the earliest opportunity. - -It was fairly evident from this that the wretched man, hunted by the -police, and recognising that capture was imminent in the course of a few -days, had resolved upon the fatal step, had effected his entrance into -the lonely house in Cathcart Square, had found it even more deserted -than he imagined, and in that little dressing-room cheated the law. - -But, in addition to this overpowering evidence, there was added the fact -of identification. - -A tall, handsome young woman, giving the name of Caroline Masters, had -been to the mortuary, and identified the body as that of her brother, -Reginald Davis. - -She gave her evidence before the Coroner with commendable composure, -broken now and again with a little natural grief. Her disclosures were -briefly as follows. - -Reginald had always been the black sheep of the family, not naturally -vicious, but impetuous, fiery-tempered and ungovernable. If he was -guilty of the murder in Cornwall, it had been due to no natural criminal -instinct, but to a fit of unbridled passion. Her theory was that remorse -had weighed upon him for this unpremeditated crime, and that, through -remorse and the fear of justice overtaking him, he had crept into this -lonely house and passed sentence on himself. - -She made a very great impression on the Court by the calm and dignified -way in which she gave her evidence. The Coroner put to her a few -questions. She was quite certain that the body was that of her brother, -Reginald Davis? Were there any other members of the family who could -support her in her identification? - -No, there were no other members of the family alive. There was another -brother dead, and a sister of whose whereabouts she knew nothing. Her -father had been a strange man, he had quarrelled with all the members -of his family, and she had never known one of them. Her mother had died -some years ago. Her voice broke a little as she related these touching -circumstances of her domestic life, more especially when she added she -was a widow, her husband having been killed in the Great War. - -There seemed but one possible verdict. The dead man, it was clearly -established, was Reginald Davis, first by the letters found upon him, -secondly by his sister's identification. - -It was also clear that Reginald Davis, hunted by the police, and knowing -that it was only a question of days or weeks before he would be run to -earth, had considered the two alternatives of self-destruction or the -extreme penalty of the law--and that he had chosen the former. - -The verdict was recorded. Mrs. Masters was complimented on the way -in which she had given her evidence. The Coroner assured her that the -sympathy of the Court was with her. The tears Welled into her eyes -as she listened to the Coroner's well-chosen phrases. She bowed her -grateful thanks. - -Constable Brown was waiting in the corridor as she came out. Beside -him stood the younger policeman who had assisted him on that very -well-remembered night in Cathcart Square. - -Brown touched his helmet. "A very trying time for you, ma'am," he said, -"a very trying time. You went through it bravely." - -She smiled Wanly. "My poor brother! He had so many good points. But it -is better as it is. I shudder to think of what might have been, if he -had not done this dreadful thing." - -"Much the best way, ma'am, much the best way," corroborated Brown. - -She went out, a graceful figure, and Brown turned to his younger -colleague. - -"A remarkable case, old chap. As we said all along, suicide." - -The younger man paused a little before he replied. It may be mentioned -that a few months later he was promoted to the detective force in -consequence of some rather clever work connected with a gang of coiners -in an obscure corner of the West End. - -"It looks like it, but I'm not quite as sure as you are," he said -laconically. - -Brown stared, but made no comment. A verdict was a verdict. His young -colleague had the inexperience and the vanity of youth, and thought he -was more clever than other people, perhaps! - -But on one thing the young constable had made up his mind, and that was -that Miles, the bibulous caretaker, had not told the truth when in the -witness-box. He came to this conclusion from his demeanour. Miles swore -that he had no knowledge of the dead man, but the constable believed -this to be a lie. - -And with the tame ending of the Coroner's inquest, the mystery of No. -10 Cathcart Square ceased to hold the public interest. Plenty of other -things came on to attract their attention. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -|In the year before the Great War, when to all appearance there was not -a cloud upon the horizon, when only a few statesmen felt "profoundly -uneasy," the secret of that uneasiness being carefully locked away in -their own breasts, and hidden from the general public--in that year of -1913, in the month of March, the Twenty-fifth Lancers were quartered at -the town of Blankfield, in Yorkshire. - -The Twenty-fifth was a crack regiment. Most of the officers were -members of the aristocracy, a few of the plutocracy, that portion of -the plutocracy which on account of its wealth had been adopted into a -superior world by marriage with its aristocratic daughters. - -They were a fine set of clean-minded, healthy living, sporting young -fellows. They rode to hounds, they played polo when there was any going, -they shot over the coverts of their friends, they made love to all the -pretty girls they came across in a gallant and desultory fashion, loving -and riding away. - -It cannot be said that they took their professional duties in too -serious a fashion. But they were brave as lions, and when the time came -to prove their mettle, none of their relatives had cause to blush for -their record. - -The memories of most of them were enshrined deeply in the hearts of -wailing mothers and weeping sweethearts, when the great holocaust came. - -Foremost amongst this band of gay spirits and resolute sportsmen was -a certain Captain Murchison, "Hughie," as he was always called by his -intimates. - -"Hughie" was not a pure aristocrat. His father, a man of fabulous -wealth, was the head of the great brewing firm of Murchison, Delaroyd & -Co., the fourth in succession, for the big brewery had been founded over -a hundred years ago. - -It is supposed, in the case of self-made men, that it requires three -generations to make a gentleman. Anyway, the present Sir Hugh had won -his spurs by the fact of belonging to the fourth. And he had further -firmly established his position by marrying Lady Gertrude Marchmont, -a daughter of the Earl of Mounthaven. The Marchmonts had blue blood in -profusion, they ere one of the oldest families in the Kingdom, only just -being beaten by such superior people as the Howards, the Talbots, and -the Nevilles. - -Captain Murchison was, therefore, plutocrat on the father's side, -aristocrat of aristocrat on the mother's. But he did not owe his -popularity to these adventitious circumstances. The fact that he was the -most popular man in his regiment was due to his own sterling qualities. - -In the first place, he was a man of the most unbounded generosity and -the most serene good-humour. He had captained the Eleven at Eton, and -he was one of the best shots, also one of the best polo-players, in -England. Needless to say that he was a man's man. The fact that he was -also equally a woman's man can be easily explained. He boasted more than -ordinary good looks, and he had a charming, deferential way with women -that captivated them at once. - -The Twenty-fifth had a very good time at Blankfield, on the whole. The -houses of the "county" were, of course, open to such a distinguished -regiment, but perhaps they had a rather jollier time amongst the rather -limited circle of rich townsfolk whom they condescended to visit: -the people who, at the best, had only a nodding acquaintance with the -"county." - -Murchison was a born sportsman. Hunting, polo, shooting, cricket, -occupied nearly all his waking thoughts, except those few that were -claimed by his professional duties. Popular as he was with women, not -a single member of the weaker and more charming sex had made any real -impression on him up to the present. - -He had had several flirtations with charming girls, of course: he might -have indulged in a few sentimental passages with certain more or less -detached, or semi-detached, married women. The latter very rarely, for -although by no means a saint he was a very clean-minded young man, and -held rather rigid notions as to what might be done, and what ought not -to be done. - -Anyway at this particular moment he was quite heart-whole. - -And then, one day, in this rather sleepy town of Blankfield, an -adventure befell him. It was not strictly a common or garden adventure, -for more than one reason. - -The woman, or rather girl, who was concerned in it, for looking at her -in a severe light she did not appeal to be more than twenty, bore upon -her no marks of the shameless adventuress. It was easy to see that she -was not a member of his own world, the world of plutocracy mingled -into aristocracy by judicious intermarriage. The "county" would not, -of course, open their doors to her. According to her own account, the -respectable "villadom" of the sleepy old town had not called upon her, -on account of the absence of convincing credentials. - -The meeting happened in this way. Hugh found himself with a blank -afternoon, an afternoon that had not been filled up. He could call -at lots of houses and get tea. But, at this period, he was becoming a -little fed-up with the Blankfield teas, the simpering girls, the astute -mothers who wanted to take the heir of the Murchison millions off his -guard, and hook him for a son-in-law. - -Coming from a long line of successful tradesmen, Hugh had rather less -brains than he ought to have acquired by heredity. Still, he was no -fool. As long as a proposition was not too complex, he could size it -up pretty accurately. And he sized up the Blankfield hospitality at its -true worth. - -He walked down the High Street, and turned into the first tea-shop. -It was a well-known establishment, and the dashing members of the -Twenty-fifth were wont to invite hither for tea some of the Blankfield -maidens who Were not too particular as to chaperonage. - -He expected to find here a good few of his brother officers. To his -surprise, he did not see one. But the room was very full. To a casual -observer, every table seemed occupied. He was about to turn away, when a -waitress, who knew him well, touched him on the arm. - -"It's quite all right, Captain Murchison,"--Hugh had arrived at -seniority very early: "there's a table up there at the far end. There's -only a young lady there, and she has very nearly finished her tea." - -The young lady in question was quite young; Hugh decided from the first -swift glance at her that she could not be more than twenty. She was -exceedingly pretty, with wavy light hair and soft brown eyes. She wore -an air of composure remarkable in one so youthful. - -The young man knew her well by sight, as did his brother officers. She -was frequently to be seen in the High Street, flitting in and out -shops, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a rather common-looking -person, some ten years her senior. It was said they were brother and -sister and their name was Burton. - -They had arrived in Blankfield about a couple of months ago, and taken a -moderate sized house on the London Road, a little in the outskirts of -the town. But though they had been here for these two months, they knew -nobody. Not a soul had called upon them: for the villadom of Blankfield -was very select, and had to know something about newcomers before it -stretched out a welcoming hand. About the Burtons nothing seemed to be -known, and until some reliable information was forthcoming, they would -be ostracised. - -The shop was very crowded, and most girls of her age might have felt -embarrassed by her loneliness. But, although many admiring glances -were levelled at her from the few masculine occupants, she seemed quite -unperturbed and unconscious, looking neither to the right nor the -left, but taking in everything that was going on, under lowered eyelids -veiling those pretty brown eyes. - -She gave him one swift glance as he sat down, and then went on -composedly with her tea. There was nothing in the glance that was either -provocative or inviting. Of the two, Hugh felt much more embarrassed -than she did. He wondered if she was as stand-offish as she looked. If -he addressed a remark to her, would she snub him? - -Anyway he determined to put it to the proof. "I do hope I am not -intruding, but it was Hobson's choice, you know; this is the only vacant -table." - -No, she was not going to snub him. On the contrary, she gave him a very -pleasant smile, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was a -refined and pleasant one. - -"There is hardly any question of intruding in a public place like this. -I cannot expect them to turn customers away in order that I may sit by -myself." - -It was not a bad beginning, thought Hugh. It was evident she was not -disinclined to enter into a little desultory conversation with a man who -she knew was a gentleman, and not likely to take undue advantage of her -absence of conventionality. - -Hugh went on with growing boldness. He had often said to his great chum -Jack Pomfret that it was a thousand pities this pretty girl was not in -Blankfield Society, she seemed so much more attractive than the other -girls who were in it. - -"We haven't been introduced, of course, but I know you very well by -sight. There is hardly a day that I do not meet you about here. And I -know your name, too. You are Miss Burton, are you not? And you live with -your brother at that nice little house on the London Road." - -"Quite right." Miss Burton nodded her pretty head. She added with a -little silvery laugh: "we can't be introduced, unless the waitress took -the kind office upon herself, for I don't know a soul in the place. -we have been here two months, and we have been let severely alone. I -suppose if we stayed here for twenty years it would be the same. Of -course, we didn't expect to get into 'county' Society, but we must be -quite as good as heaps of people in the town and outskirts." - -Hugh was a little embarrassed by these very frank remarks. He observed -lamely that it was a shame, and indulged in some rather inane remarks on -the snobbishness of provincial towns. - -"You must find it awfully dull," he ventured after a brief pause. During -the short silence, Miss Burton had ordered herself some more tea. It was -evident that she was not desirous of abruptly terminating this pleasant -_tête-à-tête_. The waitress drew her own conclusions from the further -order, and smiled a little as she turned away. - -"I should be a hypocrite if I pretended the contrary. Of course, -housekeeping takes up a good bit of my time, and I read a good deal, and -do a lot of fancy-work. But all the same, it is a state of isolation, -not an outside person to speak to from one week-end to the other. Of -course I hear all that is going on from the tradespeople, and I know -the names of the principal persons here whom I constantly meet and never -speak to. I know, for instance, that you are Captain Murchison. I think -I know the names of all your brother officers." - -"What made you come here, if it is not a rude question?" asked Hugh -bluntly. "It was surely a risky experiment, landing yourself in a town -like this, without any introductions." - -"I told my brother so when he first proposed it," replied Miss Burton -calmly. "But, although he is one of the best fellows in the world, he -is frightfully obstinate. He had stayed at an hotel here for a few days -some years ago, and he had taken a violent fancy to the place. He was -quite sure everybody would make a rush for us, the moment we arrived." - -Miss Burton proceeded to draw on her gloves. During this explanatory -conversation, she had consumed her second cup of tea. She called the -waitress and paid her bill. - -"I must be going now," she said. "I have quite enjoyed this little chat, -although I am sure you will think very badly of me for having confided -so much to a stranger. I really don't know what made me do it--I suppose -I got tired of having kept silence for so long." - -Yes, he could understand that. Poor, pretty little girl, just at an age -when all the pleasures of youth should be open to her, and to have to -pass her life in the society of that rather common-looking brother, good -fellow as she declared him to be. - -"I have enjoyed the meeting immensely, too," said Hugh heartily. "I only -wish we could come across each other at some of these Blankfield houses, -stupid and dull as they generally are." - -And then, the pretty Miss Burton fired her last shot as she rose to -leave: - -"I have been unconventional enough from the beginning, and if I can do -it without blushing, I am going to be more unconventional still. If you -cared to come up to Rosemount one afternoon, I am sure my brother would -be pleased to see you." - -Murchison was very embarrassed by the suggestion, although she did not -proffer it in any bold fashion. - -"I shall be delighted," he stammered. "I will run up one afternoon." -Of course when he said this he had very little intention of keeping his -promise. To enjoy a mild sort of flirtation with an exceedingly pretty -girl was one thing. To go to her house and make the acquaintance of her -brother, who he was certain was not a gentleman, was quite a -different proposition, and might land him in all sorts of unpleasant -complications. - -He also had an uneasy conviction that Miss Burton was remarkably -self-assured for such a young woman. She had spoken of blushing when -she gave him the invitation, but she had not done so. Not the faintest -colour showed on her cheek, and the glance that met his was perfectly -steady and unwavering. She must either be very innocent, or, young as -she was, she had acquired the experience and self-possession of a much -older woman. He would like to think it all out. - -The girl nodded in a friendly fashion, and tripped away, leaving Hugh -Murchison to finish his tea, and ponder over what had happened. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -|When Hugh got back to his quarters the first thing he did was to -hunt up his great friend Jack Pomfret. He found that young gentleman -stretched in front of a blazing fire--ft was a very chilly March--and -smoking a cigar nearly as big as himself. Jack Pomfret, it may be -said, was quite a small man, of about the size and weight that would be -associated with the coxswain of a 'Varsity boat. - -Next to Murchison, perhaps Pomfret was the most popular man in the -regiment. He was certainly the poorest, for although he came of an -aristocratic family, the said family had very little to bless themselves -with. - -If it had been left to his immediate relatives, Jack would have had to -enter a line regiment, and subsist on his pay, supplemented by more or -less regular small remittances from his hard-up father. - -But fortune had smiled on Jack when he was in his cradle. A rich -great-aunt had been his godmother, and from the date of his christening -had taken him under her wing. She had been crossed in love when quite -a girl, would never marry. Jack Pomfret had a handsome, but not an -extravagant, allowance now, and he would come into his great-aunt's -fortune when she died. - -Jack always complained that his aunt was a bit thrifty, and did not -fully understand the imperative necessities of a young subaltern in an -expensive regiment like the Twenty-fifth. - -As a matter of fact, Miss Harding, his mother's youngest sister, -suffered from acute indigestion, existed principally on soda-water and -biscuits, lived in a comparatively small house with one manservant and -two maids, and saved a great deal every year out of a large income. She -loved Jack very much, but she had little or no sympathy with the follies -and indiscretions of youth. She had a hazy sort of idea that an officer -should live within his pay, as she lived well within her income. -Needless to say that Jack had long disabused her of this silly idea. - -"Great tidings, old man," cried Murchison, breaking in upon the -meditative little man, blowing great clouds of smoke. "I'll give you six -guesses." - -"Not in a guessing mood," returned Jack shortly. "All my brain-power is -used up. I am trying to concoct a letter to the dear old aunt--God bless -her, she is one of the best!--insinuating gently that a cheque for a -couple of hundred would be very convenient at the present moment." - -Murchison took a seat. "Silly old ass," he said in a kindly tone, "if -you want a couple of hundred have it from me, and don't worry about -the aunt. You can pay me when she stumps-up. From what you have told me -about your respected relative, it might be a lengthy business. I suppose -you will plead debts. She might offer to discharge them, and ask the -names of the creditors. In that case, old chap, you wouldn't handle much -personally, would you?" - -Pomfret laughed genially. He was always very hard-up, but he was never -depressed for very long. There was always a silver lining to every -cloud. - -"She's the sweetest, dearest soul on God's earth," he said in a tone of -conviction. "But you know, Hughie old man, she doesn't understand--I say -emphatically, she doesn't understand--you know what I mean. She is -early Victorian. As to your suggestion, I appreciate it very much, but -emphatically, no." He added, with a whimsical smile: "Yours is a loan, -I should have to pay back; Heaven knows when I could do so. The dear old -aunt, well, it is a gift, no question of paying back. I haven't thought -it all out yet, but in the early cool of to-morrow morning, I shall -write her a beautiful and touching letter. I know by experience it will -bring a cheque." - -"You're an artful young devil, I know," said Murchison. Straight as -a die himself, he was not too appreciative of his friend's diplomatic -methods. - -On the other hand, was he justified in criticising? He had a magnificent -allowance from his opulent father. Poor Jack, with a somewhat -puritanical and niggardly aunt at his back, had just to worry along, and -live in this expensive regiment from hand to mouth. - -There was no more to be said on this subject. - -"Well, Jack, are you in a mood to listen to my news?" - -Pomfret leaned forward, and flicked the ash oft his cigar. "Yes, I -think I am. Begone dull care! I shall write that letter the first thing -to-morrow morning." - -"Well, I have made the acquaintance of that pretty Burton girl, whom -nobody in Blankfield visits." - -Mr. Pomfret emitted a little chuckling sound. "Lucky devil. How did you -do it? I thought she was unapproachable. She walks down the High Street, -'with a haughty stare, and her nose in the air,' and looks neither to -left nor right. How did you manage it, old man?" - -Hugh laughed. "Oh, as easy as anything. Just dropped in to Winkley's, -expecting to see a lot of you fellows with your best girls. Not a soul -there I knew. Room full--every table full, save for one at which Miss -Burton was sitting alone--sat at the one table, _vis-à-vis_ with Miss -Burton. There it is in a nutshell." - -Mr. Pomfret grinned broadly. "Oh, Hughie, what I would have given for -your chance. You know I am awfully gone on that girl, she is so sweet -and dainty, far and away the prettiest girl in Blankfield. What did you -make of your chance?" - -"As much as could be made in five or ten minutes. She told me a lot -about things, her disappointment in finding that the Blankfield people -would not call upon her, and that, excepting her brother, she had not a -soul to speak to." - -"Poor little soul!" said Mr. Pomfret, in a voice of the deepest -sympathy. "Poor little soul!" he repeated. - -"Well, we talked for some little time, some ten minutes perhaps, I don't -think it could have been much longer. And then--then--you will never -believe it, Jack--she asked me to call, and be introduced to her -brother." - -Mr. Pomfret was quite young, in fact he was the baby of the regiment. -But having been educated at a public school, he had learned a certain -amount of worldly wisdom rather early. He gave expression to it now. - -"If she were living with her mother, or a maiden aunt, Hughie, the thing -would be so easy. But the brother, we have seen him walking beside that -lovely girl. It would be difficult to class him. It would be perhaps too -much to say he was either a bounder or a cad--he's not boisterous enough -for the one or common enough for the other. But clearly, he's not a -gentleman or the imitation of one." - -"No," answered Hugh. "Your description of the brother quite fits. He is -neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red-herring, as the old saw has -it. Then the girl is so different. She is, to an extent, frank and -unconventional." - -"She must be, or she wouldn't have asked you to call upon her," -interrupted the astute Mr. Pomfret. - -"Quite so, I perfectly agree. But upon my soul, Jack, she has the most -perfect manners. She does these sort of things in such a way that you -cease to wonder why she does them." - -"I understand." Mr. Pomfret looked very wise. "There's a wonderful -fascination about the girl. She radiates it, even when you pass her in -the street. By Gad, there's not a young woman in Blankfield who can -hold a candle to her. Well, Hughie, what are you going to do about the -invitation?" - -"I'm in two minds, old man, to go or stay away. There's the brother, you -see." - -"There's the brother," repeated Mr. Pomfret, "and a dashed disappointing -sort of a brother, too. If it had only been a mother, or a maiden aunt! -what a priceless opportunity! And yet it seems a bit too good to be -lost." - -"But the brother, what about him?" Hugh insisted. - -"The brother is, of course, a stumbling-block. You can't ask him to -Mess. 'Old Fireworks' will stand more from you than anybody, but he -would never stand Burton. He would be calling him 'Your Grace' or 'Your -worship' or something." - -"Old Fireworks," it may be explained, was the nickname of the respected -Colonel of the gallant Twenty-fifth Lancers. It had been conferred -upon him, on account of his explosive temper. He was also a rigid -disciplinarian. - -"I shall not go," said Hugh after a brief pause. - -Mr. Pomfret was thinking deeply. He pulled at his big cigar in a -meditative fashion. Then at length, out of his wisdom, he spoke: - -"Let us reason this out, my well-beloved friend. A very pretty girl asks -you to go and see her, she is unfortunately hampered by an undesirable -brother. You accept their hospitality, but you know he is not a man -you can ask to Mess. But you can take him to an hotel, and feed him up -there. Tell him the Colonel's kicked up rough about guests, any lie you -like, to save his _amour propre_." - -"A good idea, Jack. Have you anything more to say? Don't forget that -if I go to Rosemount, the news will be all over Blankfield in five -minutes." - -Mr. Pomfret snapped his fingers. "Who cares a fig for the Blankfield -people? Everybody knows, or ought to know, that a soldier loves and -rides away. And the Blankfield girls are dull enough, Heaven knows, I -wouldn't give a thought to them." - -"Then you advise me to call, and be introduced to the brother, eh?" - -"Of course, we shall be off in another two months, and leave only tender -memories behind us." Mr. Pomfret was a practical person, if ever -there was one. "Let us seize the passing day. By the way, have you any -objection to taking me up to call with you, when you go? Say no, if you -have the slightest objection." - -Hugh Murchison looked at him squarely. "No, old chap, not the slightest. -The girl interests me in a way, chiefly, I think, because I can't -quite make her out, can't determine whether she is very cunning or very -simple, but I am not attracted in the ordinary sense. I take it you -are." - -Pomfret's look of indifference changed to one of gravity. "Yes, Hughie, -I am. I would like to see that girl at close quarters." - -Hugh rose. "Right, we will call together, and in the meantime we will -keep it from the other fellows?" - -"Good Heavens, I should think so, we should be chaffed to death," was -Jack's fervent answer. - -A few days later, the two young men walked to Rosemount. It was a villa -sort of house, set in a small garden, very carefully kept. The windows -were ornamented with boxes of flowers. Small as the establishment was, -there was an air of elegance about it, an elegance perhaps of restricted -means but of refined taste. - -Pomfret nudged his senior officer. "I say, they've turned it into a very -decent sort of little crib, haven't they? I should say that is due to -the girl." - -Hugh laughed. "Perhaps it is the brother after all. He might be an -artist, you know. Artists are often very rum-looking chaps." - -"Artist be hanged," said Pomfret emphatically. "I'll bet you a fiver he -isn't an artist, whatever he is. A 'bookie' or a 'bookie's' tout, more -likely." - -At the end of this short colloquy, they had reached the hall door. -A very smart maidservant, in a becoming cap and apron, opened it. In -answer to their inquiry, Miss Burton was in. - -They were shown into the drawing-room. The young mistress of the house -was reclining in an easy-chair; an open book lay on her lap. - -She advanced towards them with that peculiar air of self-possession -which had so impressed Hugh on his first meeting in the tea-shop. A -hostess with years of social experience could not have been more at her -ease than this young girl. - -"How nice of you to come, after that very vague invitation," she said, -in her clear, silvery voice. - -She addressed Murchison first, and then turned swiftly to Pomfret, in -whose eyes she doubtless recognised frank admiration of her peculiar -attractiveness. - -"I know your friend is going to introduce you in proper form. But it is -really quite unnecessary. I know you are Mr. Pomfret. I have learned the -names of all the officers from the tradespeople, also, my only friends -in Blankfield. Perhaps Captain Murchison has told you what I confided -to him the other day, that we are as isolated here as if we were on a -desert island." - -Mr. Pomfret sat down beside her on a small Chesterfield. From his -vantage point he could gaze into the beautiful eyes, he could note the -lustre of that fair, wavy hair. - -"A beastly shame," growled the young subaltern, at a loss for -appropriate words to express the enormities of Blankfield Society. - -She turned away lightly, as if the subject interested her no further. - -"I think we will have tea. My brother is engaged in scientific pursuits. -when he can tear himself away, he will join us. Captain Murchison, will -you kindly ring the bell?" - -Truly, she had the manners of a woman of the world. She took the homage -of the two men as an accomplished fact. The villadom of Blankfield -could not produce such a hostess, so free from fussiness or exaggerated -hospitality. You would have to go to the "county" to find her parallel. -The two men exchanged appreciative glances. Whatever her origin, Miss -Burton could shine in any circle in which she found herself permanently, -or temporarily, located. - -The tea was served, and over the tea-cups they chatted in desultory -fashion. Then the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. Burton appeared. -From the moment of his appearance, the atmosphere seemed to be changed. -He advanced towards them with outstretched hands. His manner was -extremely cordial, but it went beyond the limits of good taste. His -tones were breezy but blusterous. There was a rasping and a vulgar ring -in his voice. - -"Welcome to our humble abode, gentlemen. It is very brave of you to come -and visit the boycotted ones." - -Hugh and Jack Pomfret fidgeted in their chairs. This common-looking -young man was a bit too communicative about his private affairs. They -had a slight suspicion that he had been indulging in alcohol, his manner -was so unrestrained. - -Mr. Burton sank down in his chair, and took a cup of tea from the hands -of his attentive sister. The visitors did not see it, but she shot a -warning glance at him, and in face of that warning glance, Mr. Burton, -by a strong effort, pulled himself together. - -"You see, gentlemen, I feel very sore about this matter; my sister has a -calmer temperament, and she takes things as they come. Here we came from -the North of Ireland, from a little town where we were highly looked up -to, where we knew every man, woman and child in the place. We came here, -and, as I say, we are boycotted." - -Miss Burton looked at him severely. "George, I do not think it is very -good taste of you to inflict your grievances upon these gentlemen, who -have just come to make an afternoon call. Don't you think you could -soothe your nerves better by getting back to your laboratory, or -whatever you call it?" - -Mr. Burton accepted the hint, and rose. He waved a genial hand towards -the visitors. - -"You will excuse me for a few moments. I have a most important -experiment on. But I shall be back very shortly: I shall see you again -before you leave." - -The two young men devoutly wished that they might not see him again. -The man was a confirmed and innate vulgarian. Both he and his sister, -no doubt, felt very sore about their social ostracism, but how different -were the methods of expression indulged in by the two. She explained -the situation with a proud dignity, hiding her chagrin with a show of -indifference. He was exposing his gaping wounds to the public eye with -an air of ostentation. - -"I must ask you to excuse my brother," said Miss Burton when -her ebullient relative had left the room. "He has the true Irish -temperament, it is impossible for him to conceal his feelings. He would -like to go down the High Street, trailing his coat behind him, and -inviting the residents to tread upon it, in real Irish fashion, so that -he could indulge in a free fight with them." - -The young men laughed cordially. They felt that a somewhat awkward -situation had been saved by her ready tact, her rather humorous -explanation. - -But Murchison, the more level-headed of the two, looked at her very -fixedly, as he said, "But you are Irish, too. How is it that you have -learned to control your feelings so successfully?" - -At such a direct question, he would have expected her to flush a little; -at any rate, show some slight symptoms of embarrassment. But this -remarkably self-possessed girl of twenty or thereabouts was as cool as a -cucumber. She laughed her little silvery laugh. - -"My brother and I are as wide apart as the North and South Poles," she -said lightly. "Many people have commented on the fact. Would you like to -know the reason?" - -She directed a rather challenging glance in the direction of Pomfret, -whom she rightly judged to be more susceptible to feminine influence -than his friend. - -"I should like to very much," was the subaltern's answer. That eloquent -glance had completely subjugated the young man. - -"Well, listen. My father was a hard-riding, gambling, hard-drinking -Irish squire, who squandered his money and left little but debts behind -him. My brother takes after him in certain qualities, thank Heaven -not his least desirables ones. My mother was an Englishwoman, rather -a puritanical sort of woman, who fell in love, perhaps a little -injudiciously, and I think wore her life out in the attempt to curb my -father's unhappy propensities. I take after my mother. You understand? -George is really my half-brother by my father's first wife." - -Pomfret nodded his head gravely. "I quite understand," he said, and his -tone was one of conviction. Murchison preserved a benevolent attitude of -neutrality. He was still thinking it all out. - -Miss Burton was very pretty, nay, more than pretty, very charming, very -attractive, gifted with a marvellous self-possession, very clever, -very adroit. But was she as genuine and frank as she seemed? Pomfret -evidently thought so, but Murchison was not quite sure. - -Mr. George Burton, who took after his Irish father in several respects, -according to his sister's account, made a re-appearance before the -visitors left. There had been just a little suspicion at first that he -had been indulging in the hard-drinking habits of his male parent. If -so, that suspicion must be at once removed. He was bright, breezy and -blusterous, but he was certainly master of himself. He advanced with the -most cordial air. - -"Gentlemen, I feel I owe you an apology. I had no right to intrude my -private grievances upon you, even although I am very possessed with -them. Please put it down to my Irish temperament. You will forgive me, I -am sure." - -He stretched out appealing hands, the hands of the plebeian as Murchison -was quick to notice, nails bitten to the quick, coarse fingers and -thumbs. - -Murchison quietly ignored the outstretched hand. So did Pomfret, -subjugated as he was with the charm and attractiveness of Miss Burton. -He did not quite feel that he wanted to shake hands with this very -terrible brother, who took after his Irish father. - -"I apologise most sincerely, gentlemen," he repeated, "for my outburst -just now. I had no right to inflict upon you a recital of my private -grievances against the inhabitants of this wretched town. But I am a -wild, excitable Irishman, whatever is in my mind has to come out. Please -forgive me; I know my sister Norah never will." - -He looked appealingly at the girl who sat there, calm and self-possessed -as always, with a slight expression of contempt upon her charming face. - -"I have already made excuses for you to Captain Murchison and Mr. -Pomfret," she said coldly. - -The visitors were very much embarrassed. What could they say to this -dreadful person who seemed so utterly lacking in all the qualities -of good breeding? Hugh remained silent, Pomfret opened his lips and -murmured something about the whole affair being very regrettable. - -But these somewhat incoherent remarks were quite enough to restore Mr. -Burton to his normal state of easy buoyancy. He smiled affably. - -"So that is all over. Well, I am delighted to see you, and it will not -be my fault if your first visit is your last. Now, I propose you come -round and have a little bit of dinner with us soon, so that we may get -to know each other better. Any night that you are at liberty will suit -us. _We_ are not overwhelmed with invitations, as you can understand -from what I have told you." - -If Murchison had been by himself, he would have politely shelved the -invitation. Miss Burton, who took after her English mother, was quite -decent and ladylike. The brother was insufferable. Vulgarity, so to -speak, oozed from him. He was offensive even in his geniality. In short, -he was impossible. - -But Pomfret took the wind out of his senior's sails. - -"Sorry we are quite full up this week, but hardly anything on next. -Shall we say Monday?" - -Miss Burton took the matter out of her brother's hands by turning -directly to Murchison. - -"Monday, of course, will suit us. Will it suit you?" she asked him -pointedly. - -Taken by surprise, the unhappy young man could only mutter a reluctant -affirmative. A few minutes later they left, pledged to partake of the -Burtons' hospitality on the following Monday. - -When they were safely outside, Murchison spoke severely to his brother -officer. - -"You've let us in for a nice thing. If you had left it to me, I would -have got out of that dinner somehow." - -"But I didn't want to get out of it," replied the unabashed junior. -"We knew the brother was pretty bad all along. I don't know that on the -whole he is much worse than we imagined. But she's a ripping girl. I -want to see more of her." - -"You silly young ass," growled Murchison; "I believe you've fallen head -over ears in love with her." - -And Pomfret, one of the most mercurial and light-hearted of subalterns, -answered quite gravely: - -"I rather fancy I have. I've never met a girl who appealed to me in -quite the same sort of way." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -|As a result of his visit to Rosemount, Hugh Murchison was very -perturbed in his mind. He blamed himself severely for having been -tempted into that rather intimate conversation at the tea-shop. Miss -Burton was attractive enough, and lady-like enough, to excuse any man -for taking advantage of his obvious opportunities, but he had been a -fool to go farther. He ought never to have set his foot in the house of -people of whom he knew nothing. - -It was all Jack Pomfret's fault, he decided hastily. It was his -influence, his keen desire to make the girl's acquaintance, that had -weighed down his friend's prudence. For, if left to himself, Hugh was -quite sure that he would have dallied and dallied till all inclination -to call at Rosemount had died down. - -And Pomfret had owned to being greatly impressed with the fair young -chatelaine. He had admitted that he had never met a girl who had -appealed to him in quite the same sort of way. In fact, it was easy to -see he had fallen desperately in love with her. - -And Jack was just one of those light-hearted, susceptible sort of chaps -who have not an atom of common-sense in their composition, who will obey -their impulses, regardless of consequences. - -And he was not his own master. His career was practically at the -disposal of his somewhat puritanical aunt. It was just on the cards that -Jack would be mad enough to propose to this girl who had so bewitched -him. One could imagine how the aunt would receive such a communication. - -There was one little ray of hope, however. If Jack did commit such a -crowning folly, he would be far too honourable not to acquaint Miss -Burton with his circumstances. Hugh was fairly convinced that the young -lady knew how to take care of herself. And, even if she did fall in love -with Jack, as he had done with her, and be inclined to make a fool of -herself, there was the objectionable brother to be reckoned with. He -would certainly not allow his sister to engage herself to a man, except -with the consent of that man's family. - -All the same, it was as well to avoid any embarrassing entanglements, -if possible. It is easy to retrace your steps when you have only just -started. - -With this object in view, Murchison sought his friend on the Sunday -preceding the day on which they were to present themselves at Rosemount. - -"Jack, old man, I have been thinking----" he began. - -Mr. Pomfret lifted a warning finger. "My dear friend and mentor, don't -indulge in such violent processes. It's very bad for you." - -"Don't be an ass, Jack. You are not really funny when you say that sort -of thing. I've been thinking over this business to-morrow, and, frankly, -I don't relish the prospect. We had better cut it out." - -Pomfret's face took on an obstinate expression. "You are speaking -for yourself, of course. For my part, I don't intend to break my -appointment. In my opinion, it would be an awfully low-down thing to do. -If you didn't want to go, you shouldn't have accepted." - -It was evident the young man was not in a very reasonable frame of mind, -equally evident he would require very careful handling. - -"Now, Jack, don't get off the handles. You know you are an awfully -impetuous chap, and that I have much the cooler head of the two. I have -been thinking it all out the last day or two, and I don't like the look -of it." - -"You informed me just now that you had been thinking," replied Mr. -Pomfret in the same sarcastic strain. "There is no need to dwell upon -the fact. It is obvious." - -But the elder man was not to be ruffled. If anything unpleasant came of -this sudden acquaintance he would lay the blame on himself for having -mentioned that little incident of the tea-shop, and inspired the -mercurial Jack's love of the daring and adventurous. - -"I don't know that I did accept, as a matter of fact, except by -implication. I was about to return an evasive answer, leave it in the -air, so to speak, when you cut in and jumped at the invitation for -both." - -This was true, and Mr. Pomfret's air lost a little of its jaunty -confidence. "Well, if you think I lugged you in, get out of it yourself. -Of course you will have to tell some beastly lie that they will see -through at once. Anyway I am going, and that's flat." - -"If you go, I shall go," said Hugh firmly. "But I would like you to -listen to me for a few moments, and put things before you as they -present themselves to me." - -"Fire away, then," was Pomfret's answer, but it was delivered in a very -ungracious tone. - -"Of course we are both agreed about the brother," began Hugh mildly. - -The other interrupted impatiently: "The brother be hanged. We are not -going to the house for the brother's sake, but because of the sister. -what's the use of blinking the fact? If you had met him in the tea-shop -instead of her, I don't suppose you would have wasted a word on him, no -more should I. But I don't see why that pretty girl should be ostracised -because of him." - -"I don't quite see, under the circumstances, how you can separate them," -pursued the obstinate Hugh. "I should like to turn off, just for a -moment to the sister, and consider her." - -"Go ahead," said Mr. Pomfret in a somewhat sullen tone. He was keeping -his impulsive and fiery nature under control, out of his great respect -for his friend. But it was very doubtful if he would stand much -criticism even from one so respected. - -"I have not a word to say against her appearance or her manners. I will -go further, and say there is not a girl in Blankfield, or for the matter -of that in the 'county' itself, who gives the impression of a thorough -gentlewoman more convincingly than she does." Pomfret's face brightened -at these words. "Oh, then you admit that, and you have knocked about the -world a few years longer than I have. I am of the same opinion, but if -you say it, it must be so." - -"I do say it unhesitatingly, but mind you, I am only judging from -outside appearances. Now, how comes it that such a refined and ladylike -girl as that should have such a bounder of a brother? There is a mystery -there." - -Jack Pomfret prepared to argue. "I don't quite agree that he is a -bounder, he is not quite boisterous enough for that. Let us agree on a -common definition--namely, that he is bad form. That fits him, I think." - -"And the sister is very good form. You can't deny that there is a -mystery." - -But the young subaltern developed a quite surprising ingenuity in -argument. - -"She just simply calls him her brother," sharply, "but she has told you -he is her halfbrother by a first marriage--father a gentleman, mother a -common person, hence the bad form. A second time, the father married a -woman of his own class, hence Norah Burton. Norah knows him for a good -sort, if a bit rough, and sticks to him. That's a reasonable theory, -anyway." - -"More ingenious than reasonable perhaps," commented Murchison with an -amused smile. - -Pomfret went on, warming to his subject. "And, hang it all, if we speak -of bounders--and mind you, I won't admit he is a bounder in the strict -sense of the term--is there a family in England without them?" - -"Quite the same sort, do you think?" was Hugh's question. - -"Look here, I'm not going to be impertinent, and ask if you can point to -any amongst your own connections, but I know something of my own family. -I've got a cousin, good blood on both sides. He's been a bounder from -the time he learned to talk, sets your teeth on edge; as some fellow -said, every time he opens his mouth he puts his foot into it. By Gad, -this fellow Burton is a polished gentleman to him. If George showed his -nose in this regiment they would send him to Coventry in five minutes." - -"As they did that chap last year," remarked Hugh, alluding to an -offensive young man who had been compelled to send in his papers, owing -to the fact that his general demeanour had not come up to the somewhat -exalted standard of the gallant Twenty-fifth. - -"Precisely," assented Pomfret. "But you were going to give me some views -about the girl. Again I say, fire away." - -"Well, to go back to that meeting in the tea-shop. It was, to say the -least, a little unconventional for a young girl to invite an utter -stranger to call upon her." - -"You were not an utter stranger," retorted Jack doggedly. "She had -heard who you were, perhaps from the tradespeople. She knew you were a -gentleman, she knew your name, Captain Murchison. Hang it all, if you -had met her in one of these dull Blankfield houses, and she had been -introduced by a hostess about whom you both knew precious little, and -asked you to call, being the mistress of her brother's house, you would -have thought it quite the correct and proper thing. So would every man -in the barracks. Don't people strike up acquaintances in hotels, and -sometimes trains?" - -"They generally find out something about each other before they pursue -the acquaintance," suggested Murchison. "Look here, old man, you know as -well as I do, you are arguing all round the point. It would be precious -easy for the Burtons to say who and what they were, and furnish some -proper credentials. If they did that, I daresay all Blankfield would -call upon them, and swallow the brother for the sake of the very -charming sister." - -"Well, I'll pump her to-night, and get out all you want to know," -retorted Mr. Pomfret confidently. "I don't go so far as to say they will -be able to refer us to Burke or Debrett. Decent middle-class people, I -expect." - -It was useless to argue with such an optimist. "You've accounted for the -brother, I remember, by your ingenious theory. Well, you've made up your -mind to go then?" - -"Most certainly I have. You do as you like, but while we are on the -subject of good form, it is not a pretty thing to accept an invitation, -and then excuse yourself at the eleventh hour by an obvious lie." - -"Under ordinary circumstances, you would be quite right. It has not -occurred to you that we were rather rushed into this dinner, then--that -we were, so to speak, jumped at?" - -"It might look like it at first blush," admitted Mr. Pomfret -reluctantly. "But here are two poor devils, marooned, as it were, in -this snobbish town, and they naturally jump at the first people who show -them the slightest civility. They must simply be aching to exchange a -word with their fellow-creatures. Well, I am going to exchange several -with them, I promise you." - -Hugh felt it was useless. When Pomfret got in these moods, it was waste -of time to reason with him. He felt uneasy, however. He had promised his -family to look after him, and he felt a certain responsibility. It was -to be hoped the sudden infatuation for a pretty face would expire as -quickly as it had been born. - -Perhaps a closer association with the bounder brother would produce a -chastening influence. But then Jack seemed bounder-proof. Had he not -alluded to a well-born cousin, beside whom Burton shone as a polished -gentleman? - -Anyway, he must not desert his young and very impulsive friend. But it -was with considerable reluctance that he accompanied him to Rosemount on -the Monday night. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -|Eight o'clock was the hour appointed for dinner, this fact scoring -in the Burtons' favour, as evincing a knowledge of the habits of good -society. Even a few of the most select hostesses in Blankville, who -ought to have known better, made a base compromise with half-past seven. - -The two men arrived about five minutes before the time. The young -hostess was awaiting them in the drawing-room, attired in some filmy -creation that made her look very charming and ethereal. Soft lights from -shaded lamps played about her, and lent a touch of perfection to the -picture. - -Mr. Burton was attired in the usual conventional evening dress of the -English gentleman. One would have guessed him the sort of man who would -wear a ready-made tie. Not at all. He had tied the bow himself, and with -a masterly hand. Pomfret even, who was admitted to be the Beau Brummel of -his regiment, could not have done it better. - -It is generally supposed that a common man looks more common still when -he dons evening attire. "George" was an exception to the rule. His black -clothes became him, and lent him a certain air of dignity, which was -wanting when he assumed everyday garments. Even Murchison, prejudiced -as he was against him, was forced to admit to himself that the "bounder" -for once looked quite respectable. Pomfret, ever leaning to the -charitable side, felt quite enthusiastic over him, and contrasted him -favourably with his own cousin, who could boast blue blood on both -sides. - -Norah Burton played the hostess as to the manner born, greeting the -visitors with just the right degree of cordiality, quite free from the -effusiveness of most of the Blankfield hostesses. And Burton, taking his -cue from her, was hearty without boisterousness. - -The young subaltern's heart warmed to her, she was so gracious, -so sweet, and about her there hovered such an air of calm dignity. -Rosemount, no doubt, was honoured by the introduction of such -distinguished visitors, viewed merely from the social point of view, -but she did not permit a suspicion of this to escape her. Rather, -judging by her demeanour, the visitors were honoured by being admitted -to Rosemount. - -"Rather reminds me of a young queen entertaining her subjects," Pomfret -remarked afterwards to his friend in a rather enthusiastic outburst. -"I'm not speaking of the 'county' of course, but these Blankfield women -make you feel they are overwhelmed with your condescension in coming -to their houses, that they are hardly fit to sit at the same table with -you." - -The dinner was plain, but well cooked. The appointments were perfect, -snowy napery, elegant glass and cutlery. One neat-handed maidservant -waited, and waited well. Mr. Burton carved the dishes that were -carvable, there was no pretence at an _à la Russe_ banquet. Their small -establishment could not cope with that, and they did not attempt it. -There was a generous supply of wines: hock, burgundy and champagne. - -And Mr. Burton, strangely subdued, was quite a good host, hospitable but -not pressing. Murchison thought he must have been having some lessons -from his sister, who seemed intuitively to do the right thing Still -suspicious, he was sure that she had been steadily coaching him how to -comport himself on this important night. - -For, after all, it must be a feather in their caps, that after having -been coldly cast aside by the _élite_ of Blankfield, they had captured -for their dining acquaintance two of the most popular officers of the -exclusive Twenty-fifth. - -And Murchison, ever on the watch for any little sign or symptom to -confirm his suspicions, had to admit the pair were behaving perfectly. -Not the slightest sign of elation at the small social triumph manifested -itself in the demeanour of either. Dinner-parties like this might be a -common occurrence for all they showed to the contrary. - -The substantial portion of the meal was over. Dessert was brought in, -with port, claret and sherry, all of the most excellent vintage. The -house was a small one, and not over-staffed, but there was no evidence -of lack of means. Perhaps the Burtons were wise people in not keeping -up a great show, but spending the greater part of their income on their -personal enjoyments. - -While the men were still lingering over their dessert, Miss Burton rose. - -"There are no ladies to support me, so I shall feel quite lonely by -myself," she said in her pretty, softly modulated voice. "Shall we have -coffee in the drawing-room? You men can smoke. It is quite Liberty Hall -here. My brother smokes in every room of the house." - -Murchison noted the subtle difference between the brother and sister. -If Burton had given the invitation, he would certainly have said, "you -gentlemen." The beautiful Norah would not make a mistake like that. - -Five minutes afterwards, the three men trooped into the pretty -drawing-room with its subdued, shaded lights. Norah was sitting at a -small table, on which were set the coffee equipage with an assortment -of liqueurs. Decidedly, the Burtons knew how to do things when they -received guests. - -The "bounder" brother, as Hugh always called him to himself, had drunk -very heavily at dinner of every wine: hock, burgundy and champagne. But -evidently he could carry a big quantity. It would take more than a -small dinner-party like this to knock him over. When he entered the -drawing-room his mien was as subdued as when he had first received his -visitors. - -They drank their coffee round the fair-sized octagonal table, and then -they broke up. Miss Burton retired to a Chesterfield, whither Pom-fret -followed her, as he was bound to do. - -Burton bustled out of the room, and returned with a huge box of -expensive cigars. He offered the box to Hugh, who took one with a -deprecating look at the young hostess. - -"We dare not, Miss Burton. Think of your curtains in the morning." - -"Don't trouble, Captain Murchison," she said, with her charming smile. -"The curtains have to take what comes in this house. George doesn't -often sit in this room, but when he does he always smokes cigars. I told -you this was Liberty Hall, you know." - -The box was offered to Pomfret, who took one. "Do you smoke, Miss -Burton?" he asked. - -"Once in a blue moon. I think I will have one to-night, as a little -treat. It is terribly tempting, when I see all you men smoking." The -enamoured Pomfret fetched her a cigarette, hovered over her with a -match, till it was properly lighted, and settled himself again on the -Chesterfield. If that silly old Hugh didn't butt in, he was going to -have a nice little chat with this charming girl, who had played the -young hostess to such perfection. - -But Hugh was safely out of the way. Burton had piloted him to a -comfortable easy-chair at the extreme end of the drawing-room, and -these two antipathetic persons were apparently engaged in an interesting -conversation. Anyway, Murchison's laugh rang out frequently. - -Pomfret, it must be confessed, was not very great at conversation. If -the ball were opened, he could set it rolling, but he lacked initiative. -He looked at Miss Burton with admiring eyes, but although he had got her -comfortably to himself on that convenient Chesterfield, he could think -of nothing to say to her. - -And then a brilliant inspiration came to him. "I say, how gracefully you -smoke." The young woman burst into a pleasant peal of quite spontaneous -laughter. She always had a ready smile at command, but her laughter was -generally a little forced. This time it was perfectly genuine. - -"Oh, you are really comical," she cried. "How can any girl smoke a -cigarette gracefully? In the first place, it is a most unfeminine thing -to do. All people must smoke them in the same way, and there can never -be anything graceful in the act." - -"Women don't smoke them the same way," replied the young subaltern, with -the air of a man who has observed and learned. "Most of them chew them, -and hold them at arm's length, as if they were afraid of being bitten." - -"It's because they don't like smoking, really, and only do it to be in -the fashion. Now, when I am quite in the mood, I actually revel in a -cigarette. I am in the mood to-night." - -Pomfret leaned forward, with a tender expression on his rather homely, -but good-humoured, countenance. - -"That means that you feel happy to-night, eh?" - -She nodded brightly. "Oh, ever so happy! It is seeing new faces, you -know, after weeks of isolation," she added with a touch of almost -girlish gaiety. "It seems such ages since we gave a dinner-party. And -you and Captain Murchison are so nice. It seems almost like a family -gathering." - -"You like my friend Murchison, then? I am glad, because it is to him I -owe the pleasure of your acquaintance." - -"I think he is a dear, he seems so honest, straightforward, and so -reliable." She spoke with apparent conviction. "Were you not dreadfully -shocked when he told you, for of course he must have told you, how we -got to know each other?" - -"Not in the least," said Mr. Pomfret stoutly. "I explained to him that -people can become acquainted, without being properly introduced in the -conventional sort of way." - -"Ah, then, he had some doubts himself?" flashed Miss Burton. "I expect -he was a little shocked, if you were not." - -"Not in the slightest, I assure you," replied Mr. Pomfret easily. He was -not above telling a white lie upon occasions. He remembered too well -the remarks that his friend had made upon the girl's unconventional -behaviour, but he was not going to admit anything. - -Miss Burton spoke softly, after a brief pause. "You and Captain -Murchison are very great friends, are you not?" - -"Awful pals," was the genuine response. "You see, he knows all my -family. And when I joined the regiment, they deputed him to look after -me. He has got a hard task," he added with a laugh. - -"Oh, not so very hard really, I am sure of that." Norah's voice was very -sweet, very caressing. "But you and your friend are of very different -temperaments." - -"In what way?" - -She smiled. "Oh, in half a hundred ways. Captain Murchison is as true as -steel, but also as hard as steel. You, now, are not in the least hard. -You are very kind and compassionate, you think the best of everybody." - -"Don't flatter me too much, please," interjected the bashful Pomfret. - -"Oh, pardon me, I know just the kind of man you are." The sweet face -was very close to his own, the beautiful, rather sad eyes were looking -steadily into his. "You are a rich man, or you would not be in this -expensive regiment. But, if you were a poor man, and you had only ten -pounds in your pocket, you would lend an impecunious friend five of -them, and not trouble whether he repaid you or not." - -"I think you have fitted me, Miss Burton. My dear old chum Hugh is never -tired of telling me I am an awful ass." - -"You are both right, really," answered Miss Burton. - -"You see, we look at life from two different standpoints." - -"I fancy you come from two different classes?" queried the charming -young woman. - -Pomfret felt a little embarrassed. He did not want to give away his -particular chum. But there were no doubt certain inherited commercial -instincts in Hugh that sometimes offended the descendant of a more -careless and aristocratic family. - -"You see, Hugh has come from the trading class, originally. His -ancestors, no doubt, were close-fisted people. Hugh is not close-fisted -himself: he is, in a certain way, the soul of generosity, but sometimes -the old Adam peeps out in little things." - -He had a swift pang of remorse when he had said this. For he suddenly -remembered Hugh's generous offer of the two hundred which Pomfret, by -a very diplomatic letter, was going to cajole out of the octogenarian -great-aunt. - -"Believe me," added he fervently, "Hugh is one of the best. He is a -little peculiar sometimes in small things. I ought not to have spoken as -I have done. I am more than sorry if I have conveyed a wrong impression -of him." - -"But you have not," cried Norah Burton swiftly. "He would be hard in -some things: I am sure--for instance--he would never forgive a really -dishonourable action, even in the case of his best friend." - -"No, I am sure he would not," assented Pomfret. "But I don't fancy he -has been much tried that way. We don't get many 'rotters' amongst our -lot." - -"_Noblesse oblige_," quoted Miss Burton, lightly. Then she added more -seriously: "And I am sure he is very kind-hearted and thoughtful. I -was impressed with his reluctance to smoke because of the curtains. Of -course, he did not remember that it did not matter in the least, as we -never have callers." - -She was getting on the theme of their social isolation, but Pomfret was -sure that, unlike her brother, strangely subdued to-night from his usual -boisterousness, she would handle the subject with her customary tact and -good taste. - -"Ah, of course, all that is very regrettable. It is not so much your -loss, as the loss of Blankfield. I suppose you won't stay very long -here." - -For a moment there came a blazing light in the soft, beautiful eyes. -"A few days ago, I advised my brother to pack up and clear out. The -snobbish plutocracy of Blankfield had beaten us, made up of retired -shopkeepers and merchants. To-night, with you and Captain Murchison as -our guests, I think we have beaten Blankfield with its fat mothers and -plain daughters." - -She looked superb, as she drew her slender form up to its full height, -the glow of indignant triumph blazing on her cheek. At the moment she -was extremely beautiful. If Pomfret had been attracted before, he was -infatuated now. - -"I will help you to beat the Blankfield people, for whom I don't care a -row of pins. I will come, whenever you want me." - -"And your friend Captain Murchison, will he come, too?" - -Pomfret smiled whimsically. "Oh yes, he will come, if I make a point -of it. Old Hugh thinks he leads me, but I really lead him." She leaned -forward eagerly. "Can you bring some of your brother officers, Mr. -Pomfret? Please don't think I am bold and forward and presumptuous. But -I do long to be even with these Blankfield people. I would love to make -a little sort of _salon_ of my own. I know it is useless to expect the -women at present, but they might come in time. Mind you, I don't want -them." - -"I will try," said Pomfret slowly. "I think I may say that Hugh and I -are the two most popular men in the regiment; I say it without vanity. -And I don't suppose we care a snap of the fingers about the Blankfield -people. Still, I don't want to raise hopes that may never be fulfilled. -I can only say, I will try." There was a pause. Then she spoke, and -there was a far-away look in her eyes. "You hesitate, I see. Oh, I quite -believe you when you say you will try. But there is some stumbling-block -in the way, isn't there?" Pomfret had perforce to dissemble. "There is -no stumbling-block that I know of, except running the risk of offending -Blankfield. That is not a great one, as we shall be out of here in about -two months." - -She leaned closer to him, and her voice sank to a whisper. "There is a -stumbling-block, I know. You are too kind and generous to state what it -is, you could not, as to-night he is your host. It is my brother." - -And then poor, infatuated Pomfret sought no further refuge in -subterfuge. He blurted out the truth. "Some of our chaps wouldn't stand -him, you know," he said simply. - -There was a little convulsive movement of the delicate hands. "And he -is such a dear good fellow at heart, wanting I know in the little -delicacies that mark a real gentleman. You see a great difference -between us, don't you?" - -"A very distinct difference," assented Pomfret. - -"I will explain it to you in a few words. My father was a harum-scarum -sort of person, as I told you last time you were here, hard-riding and -hard-drinking. When he was a boy of twenty-five he married a woman out -of his own class, a shop-girl or a barmaid, I am not quite sure which. -George is many years older than myself, as I told you he is really my -halfbrother. The first wife died, my father married again, this time -a lady. I am the daughter of the second marriage. Now, I think you -understand." - -Pomfret was delighted at this avowal, it proved his own prescience. - -"I am so glad you told me, but as it happens, it was just what I -guessed." - -Miss Burton looked at him with admiring eyes. "You are really very -clever, you know. Well, I will not exactly say this is a secret, but you -will whisper it about discreetly. You need not be quite so frank as I -have been about details, but you can hint at a _mésalliance_. I hate to -have to tell you so much, for my brother has been so good to me." - -"Ah!" Mr. Pomfret's air plainly showed that he was eager for further -information. - -And Miss Burton was quite willing to gratify him. The young man was a -pleasant, comfortable sort of person to talk to. He was an admirable -listener, and never broke in with unnecessary, or irritating -interruptions. - -"When my father died he left little behind him but debts; my mother had -preceded him some ten years. Poor George had gone into a stockbroker's -office, through the good offices of a distant connection. His salary was -very small, but he made a home for me. He would not hear of my earning -my own living." - -"That could not have been very long ago," remarked Pomfret, "because you -are not very old now." - -"No, it was not long," answered the girl, not committing herself to any -definite dates. "Well, we had a very hard time, as you can imagine. Then -suddenly our luck changed. An uncle of George's on his mother's side had -gone out to Australia as a boy, and amassed, we won't say a fortune from -your point of view, but what we should look upon as wealth. He had never -married, and when he died, a will was found in which he left all he was -possessed of to his sister's children. George was the only child, so he -took it all." - -"So he threw up business and went in for a country life." - -"Well, he has thrown it up for a time. I am not quite certain he will -not get tired of inactivity, and go back to it. Now that he has capital, -it would be easy for him to embark in something that would keep him -occupied, and pay him well." - -"Not a sportsman, I suppose, he doesn't care for hunting or shooting? -The country is slow for a man if he doesn't do something in that line." - -The pretty girl smiled; there was a faint touch of humour in the smile. -"Oh, he's not rich enough to indulge in luxuries of that sort. Besides," -she added hastily, "he has such wretched sight, he would be no good at -sport." - -Pomfret thought it had been a very pleasant, enlightening conversation. -Norah seemed to have been perfectly frank about their past and their -present position. She did not pretend to be anything but what she was, -the daughter of a spendthrift father, living on what was practically the -charity of a good-hearted brother. And that brother was indebted for his -good fortune to a relative who must have been a man of the people. - -While the two young people were having this confidential chat, Mr. -Burton was making himself agreeable to the other guest, in his doubtless -well-meant, but somewhat undiplomatic, fashion. - -"I do envy you young fellows when I see you walking about as if the -world belonged to you." - -Hugh drew himself up stiffly. "I was not in the least aware that any one -of us conveyed that impression." - -"No offence meant, I assure you." Hugh's tone showed him that he had -been guilty of bad taste: a blessing Norah had not heard--she would have -given him a bad quarter of an hour later on. "But all army men, I think, -get a certain kind of swagger. Oh, nothing overbearing or unpleasant -about it, of course. They are made so much of that there is no wonder -if they do fancy themselves a bit. I'm sure I should if I were one of -them." - -Murchison made no comment on this frank statement, and the other man -rambled on in desultory fashion. - -"It's the life I wanted. As a boy I longed to grow up quickly and go -into the army. There was a fair chance of it then, when the old man had -still got a bit of money left. But by the time I was old enough the idea -had to be knocked on the head. I had to go into a dingy stockbroking -office instead." - -Hugh pricked up his ears at the announcement. He had not suspected that -the man would be so communicative about his past. Of course he had gone -as a clerk. If his father was not well-off enough to put him in the army -neither could he have afforded to buy him a share in a business. - -"Yes," pursued Mr. Burton, "it was an awful come down after the dreams I -had indulged in." - -"It must have been a very bitter disappointment," assented Hugh -politely, in spite of his firm conviction that the army was the very -last profession in the world suited to a man of his host's obvious -peculiarities. - -"I should have been awfully keen on soldiering," pursued Mr. Burton, -under the impression that he had discovered a sympathetic listener. -"Don't you consider it a splendid life?" - -"There are many things in its favour, certainly," was the rather frigid -reply. - -"But, after all, I don't think I should have cared to be in the line; -there's not the same glamour about it, is there? You fellows in the -cavalry, in a crack regiment like yours, must see the rosy side of -life." He heaved a sigh. "And, of course, you've all got pots of money -to grease the wheels." - -Hugh fidgeted perceptibly. How very vulgar the man was, with an innate -vulgarity that nothing would ever eradicate. But his host, absorbed in -his own reflections, did not observe the movement. - -"Of course, we know all about you, about the great house of Murchison, -you are tiled-in all right." He lowered his voice to a confidential -whisper: "What about that young chap yonder? I suppose he's rolling in -money, too?" - -It was growing insufferable. For two pins Hugh would have got up and -bidden him goodnight then and there, but he shrank from making a scene. -what a fool he had been to come here, to allow his kindly feeling for -that susceptible young donkey of a Pomfret to expose him to such an -ordeal as this. - -"Really, Mr. Burton," he said in a cutting voice, "I do not discuss the -private affairs of my friends on such a brief acquaintance. If you -are really anxious to know, I believe Mr. Pomfret has considerable -expectations from an old aunt who is fairly wealthy. Those expectations -depend, I understand, upon his conforming generally to her wishes in all -respects." - -"Ah, I understand," said the unabashed Burton. "Sorry if my question -gave you offence. What really put it in my head was the difference -between his position and mine when I was his age." - -There was silence for some little time, while the two men applied -themselves steadily to their cigars. Then Burton jumped up suddenly. - -"This must be a bit slow for you and your friend, and the night is -young. What do you say to a game at bridge?" - -Yes, Captain Murchison would welcome a game of bridge, anything as a -relief to this vulgarian's conversation. - -They played for over two hours, Murchison keenly alert from certain -suspicions that had been forming in his mind. At present there was no -foundation for these vague suspicions. They played for small stakes, -but the visitors rose up the winners, not by a great amount, but still -winners. - -It was a fine night, the two men walked back to their quarters. - -"How did you get on with the charmer? I saw you seemed very confidential -together," asked the older man. - -"Splendidly, old chap. She told me a lot about her history." Pomfret -related all he had been told in full. "And how did you get on with the -brother?" - -"Don't ask me," replied Hugh with a groan. "He's the most insufferable -creature I ever came across. I don't really think I can go there again. -At the beginning of the evening he started fairly well, but later he -reverted to type." - -"Well, I may as well tell you straight, I shall. The next time we go -I'll take a share of the brother." - -When Pomfret spoke in that tone he meant what he said, and Hugh knew he -would have his own wilful way. - -There was one piece of information which the young subaltern had not -imparted to his friend. - -It was this--that after much pressing, and more than one refusal, Miss -Burton had agreed to meet him to-morrow afternoon at a very sequestered -spot about a mile and a half from Blankfield, with the view of pursuing -their acquaintance. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -|From the night of that dinner-party Murchison noted a subtle difference -in his young friend's demeanour. Pomfret had always been a harum-scarum -sort of young fellow, accustomed to follow erratic and injudicious -impulses, not absolutely devoid of brains of a certain order, but of -imperfect and ill-balanced mentality. - -But in his wildest escapades he had always been frank and above-board. -And he was ever the first, when he had overstepped the border-line, -to admit that he was in the wrong. And on such occasions, far from -justifying his exploits, he had been ready to deplore them. - -But his frankness seemed to have departed from that night. He seemed -rather to avoid than seek the society of his old friend and mentor. When -Hugh brought up the subject of the Burtons, Pomfret seemed anxious to -avoid it, to say as little as possible. He seemed to shut himself up -within his own soul. - -Hugh, of course, was profoundly uneasy. Such a transparent creature as -Pomfret would not be likely to retire within his own shell unless there -were cogent reasons for the withdrawal. And the reasons were inspired -by the attractive personality of the fascinating siren at Rosemount, -the charming young woman who explained the presence of an undesirable -brother by the narrative of her father's first unfortunate marriage. - -Pomfret had invited the brother and sister to a dinner at the principal -hotel in the place, and Hugh had been his friend's guest. Ladies, of -course, could not be asked to the Mess. It had been a happy solution -of a somewhat awkward position. Mr. Burton no doubt understood, but he -accepted the situation with alacrity. - -From the dinner they had adjourned to Rosemount. Here they had played -cards as before, but they left off fairly even. Hugh's suspicions about -card-sharping were dissipated as before. At the same time, he was still -resolved to keep a watchful eye upon the pair. It was firmly engrained -upon his mind, and only, of course, from the purest instinct, that he -did not trust either of them. - -Much to his surprise, they left without having been asked to a return -dinner. It was the turn of the Burtons. And judging from the haste with -which Burton had jumped at them on the first visit, the omission was a -little noticeable. It could not be that these new isolated dwellers in -Blankfield wanted to shelve an acquaintance which must have brightened -their dull and unvisited existence. - -Another fact presented itself to Murchison's rather acute intelligence. -There seemed already established between Pomfret and the attractive -Norah a certain kind of freemasonry, a certain sort of easy relations. -And once in the course of the evening he was sure that he heard the -young man, in the course of a whispered conversation, address her by her -Christian name. They had been sitting together on the Chesterfield, and -their remarks to each other had been addressed in a very low tone. But -Hugh's hearing was wonderfully acute, and he had surprised a sudden -expression of rebuke in Miss Burton's eyes when Pomfret made the slip. - -And here, for a moment, this story must leave Hugh Murchison with his -honest doubts and suspicions, while it follows the fortunes of his young -friend and the attractive Norah Burton. - -For, truth to tell, at this particular juncture, young Pomfret, for -all his apparent guilelessness, was pursuing a double game. Madly, -overwhelmingly, in love with Norah, he was meeting her clandestinely, -sometimes at her own house, sometimes in sequestered spots in the -surrounding neighbourhood. And of these visits and meetings Hugh knew -nothing. - -Pomfret was not free from a few pangs of self-reproach, from the fact -that he was not running quite straight with good old Hugh, to whom he -had always, hitherto, confessed all his difficulties and troubles. - -But then Hugh, although one of the best, was such a practical old stick. -And if he told him the whole truth, there was no knowing what course -Hugh might not think it was his duty to take. He might write to his -family and bring them down in an avalanche on him, or even to the -octogenarian aunt. - -Love taught him deep cunning, and what he lacked in this subtle quality -was ably supplemented by Miss Burton, this young girl with the -rather sad expression, and the candid eyes that always met your gaze -unfalteringly. - -From the first clandestine meeting, arranged in whispers on the night of -the dinner at Rose-mount, Pomfret had made the running very fast. He had -given Norah to understand that he thought her the most desirable girl he -had ever met, that no other woman had appealed, would or could appeal, -to him as she did. There was a good drop of Irish blood in his own -veins, and he certainly made a most fervent lover. - -Norah listened with a modest bashfulness that enchanted him. He was -sure from her demeanour that she had never been made love to before. She -seemed so overwhelmed that she could hardly say a word. If one were not -so much in love, one might almost have thought she was stupid. - -She was not so stupid, however, as not to preserve her wits sufficiently -to make another appointment, this time at Rosemount. Pomfret consented -gladly, but he made a certain stipulation, which his companion was more -than pleased to agree to. - -"We mustn't let old Hugh know about this, though, or he'll think he's -left out in the cold. You see, it was really through him I knew you. You -must tell your brother not to let it out." - -Miss Burton promised that, so far as she and her brother were concerned, -Captain Murchison would be none the wiser. It only remained for Mr. -Pomfret--although entreated to do so, she could not at this early stage -address him as "Jack"--to surround his movements with a proper degree of -mystery. - -When the two parted, and the meeting had been rather a brief one, for -it was always a little dangerous lingering long about the environs -of Blankfield, in case of unexpected intruders, Miss Burton made a -significant remark. - -"I am quite sure your friend Captain Murchison does not like me. In -fact, I think his real feeling is one of dislike." - -Mr. Pomfret was young enough to blush; he did so upon this occasion. He -guessed the real truth, that Murchison did not dislike her at all, on -the contrary, he rather admired her--but he had a certain distrust of -her. - -"Fancy on your part, fancy, I'm quite sure," he answered glibly. "I -expect he is a little bit sore, you know, about the whole thing, thinks -I have cut him out with you." - -"Perhaps," assented Norah, easily. But in her own heart she knew it was -nothing of the kind. She recognised at once the difference between the -two men. Murchison was a thorough gentleman, kind and chivalrous, but -he was a man of the world, with a certain hard strain in him, a man who -would submit everything to the test of cold, practical reasoning, not to -be hoodwinked or led astray. - -This poor babbling boy, with his unrestrained impulses, that Celtic -leaven in his blood, would fall an easy prey to any woman who was clever -enough to cast her spells over him. He would never reason, he would only -feel. - -After that first meeting, the precursor of many others, the affair -progressed briskly. Pomfret made love with great ardour, Norah received -his advances with a shy sort of acquiescence that inflamed him the -more. He was sure, oh very sure, he was the first who had touched that -innocent heart. - -From these delightful confidences Murchison was shut out. It would not -be wise to ignore him altogether, for such a course of action would have -intensified his suspicions. But the invitations to Rosemount from either -host or hostess were few and far between. - -He was not, however, so easily gulled as the three conspirators thought. -Pomfret's preoccupied mood, the air of a man who had much on his mind, -his frequent and unexplained absences, gave to his friend much food for -thought. He felt certain that the easy-going, irresponsible young -man was entangling himself. But in such a state of affairs he felt -powerless. Short of invoking the influence of the Colonel, or writing to -the elderly aunt, he could do nothing. - -It cannot be said that the course of true love was running very -smoothly, even from the point of view of the ardent and enamoured suitor -himself. In spite of his impulsive temperament, his disinclination to -look hard facts squarely in the face, there was in him a slight leaven -of common-sense. - -Save for the bounty and goodwill of this generous, if somewhat -narrow-minded, aunt he was an absolute pauper. There was no hope of -marrying without her consent. And he was quite sure that in a case like -this her consent would never be given. A _fiancée_, to be received by -her with approval, must present some sort of credentials. - -And there was the difficulty. Poor Jack had exhausted all his -simple cunning to extract from them some convincing details of their -antecedents. But even he, infatuated as he was, had to admit that -they had parried inquiries with great adroitness. They maintained a -persistent reticence as to names and places. Even he was forced to -conclude that, for some reason or another, they did not choose to be -frank about their past. - -These obvious facts, however, did not lessen his infatuation. To marry -her was the one dominating object of his life, in spite of all that his -few remaining remnants of common-sense could urge against such a step. - -More than once the rash idea occurred to him that he would marry her in -secret, and when the marriage was an accomplished fact, throw himself -upon his aunt's forgiveness. - -He mooted the idea to Norah, to whom, of course, he had already made a -frank statement of his position, as befitted the honourable gentleman -he was. But she did not receive the suggestion with enthusiasm, although -she professed to fully reciprocate his ardent affection. - -"If I were a selfish girl, and only thought of my immediate happiness, I -should say 'Yes,'" she said with a little tremulous smile, that made -her look more desirable than ever in her lover's eyes. "But I could not -allow _you_ to run such a terrible risk. Old people are very strange and -very touchy when they think they have been slighted. Suppose she cast -you off." - -"I suppose I could work, as thousands have to do," replied Jack, with a -touch of his old doggedness. - -She shook her head. "My poor Jack! It is easy to talk of working, but -you have got to find an employer. And you have been brought up to an -idle life. What could you turn your hand to?" She paused a moment, and -then added as an after-thought: "And besides, my brother would never -sanction it." - -Even to Pomfret's slow revolving mind, the worldly taint in her just -peeped forth in those sensible remarks. - -"If I am prepared to risk my aunt's displeasure, you can surely afford -to risk your brother's?" he queried angrily. - -But Norah disarmed him with one of her sweetest smiles. - -"Be reasonable, dearest; we must not behave like a pair of silly -children. And besides, there is a certain moral obligation on both -sides. You owe everything to your aunt. I owe everything to my brother. -It would be very base to ignore them." - -Jack was touched by the nobility of these last sentiments. "You are much -better than I am, Norah, much less selfish." - -She caressed his curly head with her hand. "We must have patience, Jack. -You have told me as plainly as your dear, kind heart would allow you to -tell me that, for reasons which I don't want you to explain, your aunt -would never give her consent to your marriage with me. Well, we must -wait." - -In plain English her meaning was that they must possess their souls in -patience till such time as this excellent old lady had departed this -life. The suggestion was certainly a coldblooded one, but in his present -infatuated mood Jack did not take any notice of that. Norah made a -feeble attempt to gloss over the callousness of her remarks by adding -that, although it was a very horrible thing to have to wait for the -shoes of dead people, a person of Miss Harding's great age must expect -to very shortly pay the debt of nature. - -Two days later, Jack received a telegram which seemed to give a certain -air of prophecy to the young woman's forebodings. It was dispatched -to him from his aunt's home in Cheshire by the local doctor, who had -attended her for years. It informed him that she was seriously ill and -requested his immediate attendance. - -He sought the Colonel at once and obtained leave. There was no time -to call at Rose-mount, but he scribbled a hasty note to Miss Burton -explaining matters. On his arrival, he found his aged relative very bad -indeed. - -She had had a severe stroke, the second in two years, and Doctor -Jephson was very doubtful as to whether her vitality would enable her to -recover. He added that she had a marvellous constitution, and in such a -case one could not absolutely say there was no hope. Of a feebler woman -he would have said at once a few hours would see the end. - -Pomfret stayed there as long as the result was in doubt. At the end of -three days the brave old lady rallied in the most wonderful way, and was -able to hold a little conversation with her beloved nephew. He did not -leave till the doctor assured him that she was out of danger. - -"It's a wonderful recovery," said Doctor Jephson as he shook hands at -parting with the young man. "But it's the beginning of the end. I don't -give her very long now, a few months at the most. Well, she has had a -wonderful life, hardly an ache or a pain till the last few years, and -then nothing very severe. But, of course, the machinery is worn out." - -All the way back to Blankfield those words kept repeating themselves in -his ears: "I don't give her very long now, a few months at the most." - -And then an idea began to form in his mind. He was not so callous that -he wanted his poor old aunt to die quickly, but it was obvious the time -could not be long delayed when he would find himself possessed of her -fortune, the master of his own destinies. Was there any reason why he -should not forestall that period by the rather daring expedient of a -secret marriage? They were both young. Even if the doctor was wrong, -and they had to wait four or five years, it was not a great sacrifice -of their youth. At least that was his way of looking at it. Of course he -did not know how she would take the suggestion. - -She appeared to listen to him with deep interest and attention when he -unfolded his plans. - -He explained that he had a very handsome allowance, which up to the -present he had generally exceeded. Now that could all be altered. He -would declare that he was sick of the army, and send in his papers. -Through his family influence, he would get some Government appointment -which necessitated his living in London. He would take inexpensive -chambers for himself, rent a small house for her in some pleasant and -not too remote suburb, and spend as much of his time as possible with -her. - -"You don't think your aunt would reduce your allowance if you left -the army?" was the one pertinent question she put to him when he had -finished. - -"On the contrary, she would be more likely to increase it," was the -confident rejoinder. "She would always have preferred that I should go -in for something that meant real work. She thinks the army is an idle -life." - -Miss Burton, no doubt, rapidly calculated the pros and cons of such a -daring step. Jack had named a very handsome sum for her maintenance. -If she could put up with the clandestine nature of the connection, till -such time as a certain event happened, she would be better off than at -Rosemount. She begged for time to think it over, and of course she would -have to consult her brother before taking such an unusual step. - -That was only natural; it was impossible for Jack to insist that she -should settle the matter herself without reference to the one person -who, whatever his social defects, had behaved to her with unexampled -kindness and generosity. - -Brother and sister no doubt talked it over very thoroughly, for it was -three days before she told her lover that, although George would have -preferred a longer period of waiting, he trusted him sufficiently to -entrust Norah to his keeping, on the terms proposed. - -She did suggest that they should wait till Jack had left the army and -settled himself in London. But he fought this idea stubbornly. He -was mad to tie her to himself, for fear that somebody else with -more immediate prospects might step in and carry her off. A little -common-sense, of course, might have told him that if she was as fatally -attractive to others as to himself, she would have been carried off -before this. - -He was so terribly jealous of her, that he had never made the slightest -effort to bring any of his brother officers round to Rose-mount. He even -kept Hugh away as much as he could. - -The lovers worked out their little plot very nicely. Miss Burton would -leave Blankfield for a couple of weeks, ostensibly to pay a visit to a -relative. Her destination would be London. Jack would take a few days' -leave of absence in due course, and procure a special licence. They -would return on separate days and resume their normal life, until such -time as they perfected their after arrangements. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -|Miss Burton arrived home on a Monday by a mid-day train; her attentive -brother met her at the station. She was one of those girls who look -smart and neat under the most trying circumstances. Although it was a -long journey, she bore no signs or stains of travel. - -"When does Jack arrive, not too soon, I hope?" commented George, as he -assisted her into a cab, and sat down beside her. - -"He wanted to come down to-night, but I vetoed that," responded the -girl. "I told him people might put two and two together. He will get -here mid-day to-morrow. I shall meet him casually in the High Street. -He is going to bring Murchison along with him. And I shall give them an -impromptu invitation to dinner." - -"I don't know that I am very keen on having Murchison to dinner," -remarked Mr. Burton in rather a growling tone. - -Miss Burton shrugged her shoulders. "And, perhaps, of the two, I am less -keen than you are. But we have got to play it pretty quiet down here, -till the whole lot of us clear out. Better to let Murchison come. He -is pretty suspicious, as it is, but if we shut him out, he'll be more -suspicious still." - -Mr. Burton chuckled in a grim fashion. - -"Well, our inquisitive friend, the whole lot of them as a matter of -fact, can't do you much harm now. You've got him tight enough. And I'll -say this for him, he's a bit soft and all that sort of thing, but he'll -always play the game." - -The girl did not reply for a moment, then she spoke in a voice that was -low and soft: - -"Yes, he's a dear little chap, he'll always play the game." - -"He can afford to," was the rather ungracious comment. Clearly Mr. -Burton was not in one of his best moods to-day. - -Mr. Pomfret returned from his short leave on the following day, and at -once sought his friend. - -"Glad to be back, old man, got fed-up with London," he cried cheerfully. -His excuse for his visit was that he had to go up to see his aunt's -solicitors, on some pressing affairs which the old lady had entrusted to -him, after her temporary recovery from her dangerous illness. - -Now Murchison was pretty quick. He already had a shrewd suspicion that -Jack had been making a great many surreptitious visits to Rosemount, -that Hugh had been asked there now and again as a blind. And when he -happened to be present, he had noticed that Jack and Norah had taken -very little notice of each other. Jack had cultivated the brother, and -left his friend to entertain the attractive young woman. In itself, this -rather obvious attitude was suspicious. It confirmed his impression that -there was a private understanding between the young people, and that -they were throwing dust in his eyes. - -He had already put two and two together, with regard to the concurrent -absences. Mr. Burton, meeting him in the High Street two days after -Norah's departure, had told him his sister was paying a visit to a -married relative who lived at Brighton. He would have not believed Mr. -Burton on his oath. - -And Jack had taken his few days' leave, with the ostensible object of -attending to his aunt's affairs. - -Hugh was pretty certain that the silly young ass, as he affectionately -designated Jack in his own mind, had arranged to meet Miss Burton for -a day or two in London, in order to enjoy her society, free from -interruption or espionage. Of course, he was far from guessing the -truth. He would not have thought Pomfret capable of any such daring -action. - -Jack had just expressed himself fed-up with London, and yet his -demeanour was jubilant and hilarious. Of course, Hugh could not dream -his attitude was that of the exultant bridegroom, almost intoxicated -with the knowledge of having gained his heart's desire. There had been a -couple of lunches, perhaps a couple of dinners with a theatre thrown in. -The buoyant Jack was living on these blissful memories. - -Later in the day, the two men walked down the High Street, of course in -accordance with a pre-arranged plan decided upon by the artful lovers. -The first person they met was Miss Burton, sauntering along slowly; Miss -Burton, now Mrs. Pomfret, as fast as the ecclesiastical law of England -could make her. - -She welcomed them with her ready and charming smile. "What strangers -we are," she cried gaily. "And how nice to meet my only two friends in -Blankfield." - -Pomfret did a little finessing on his own. 661 have been away for a few -days, too,'' he explained glibly. "Had to go up to London to look -after some business of my poor old aunt's; only got back by the mid-day -train." - -"Did you enjoy your visit?" inquired Hugh of Norah, with that stiffness -which he could never quite dissociate from his manner when addressing -either brother or sister. - -"Yes and No," was the answer. "On the whole, I had quite a good time, -but I am not sorry to get back to Rosemount, and my little household -gods. Knowing you both has made such a difference to my life here." - -She was laying it on a little bit thick, Hugh thought, and he fancied -she looked more at Pomfret than himself, as she said it. But he made a -suitable and courteous reply. - -She was just about to turn away, when a sudden thought seemed to strike -her. - -"As Mr. Pomfret and I have been such wanderers, would it not be nice to -celebrate our return? will you both come to dinner to-night, and we can -relate our experiences?" - -Pomfret jumped at the invitation, and Hugh had to follow suit. As a -matter of fact, he was rather eager to go. They were both playing their -parts very well, but he was quite convinced they _were_ playing a part. -He was more certain about Jack than about her. Jack had been a bit too -glib, had over-acted, as it were. They had met in London, if only for a -few hours; he would have bet a thousand pounds on that. - -Jack declared that he would walk back to Rosemount with Miss Burton. He -did not now care a farthing what members of Blank-field Society he met. -Very shortly, the army would know him no more, and he would take up a -new life with this fearless girl whom he had married on the sly. - -Hugh strolled on, and looked in at the various shops. The High Street -happened to be rather empty on this particular afternoon, the _élite_ of -Blankfield Society had not yet turned out for its usual promenade. - -Turning away from a jeweller's shop window, where he was inspecting some -sleeve-links, he was confronted by a tall, sturdily built man of about -fifty years of age, who raised his hat. - -"I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Captain Murchison?" he -inquired politely. - -Hugh directed a swift glance at him. He was not exactly a common person, -on the other hand he was certainly not a gentleman. There was something -military in his bearing; he might have been a retired Sergeant-Major. - -"That is my name," answered Hugh a little curtly. "And who are you, -please?" - -The tall man took a card from his waistcoat pocket and presented it. -"Those are my credentials, sir." - -Hugh ran his eye over it swiftly. He saw the name, Davidson, a common -one enough, and, in the corner, Scotland Yard. Why the deuce should this -agent of the police want to accost him? And how did he know his name was -Murchison? - -"I think you are acquainted with a family of the name of Burton, brother -and sister they call themselves, who live at a house a little way out -called Rosemount?" - -"Of course I know them, that is to say, in a casual sort of way." -Needless to say that Murchison had never been more surprised in his -life. "Why are you asking these questions?" - -Mr. Davidson darted a keen glance up and down the comparatively empty -High Street. "This is rather an exposed place in which to talk, but I -have something to tell you which I am sure you will be interested to -listen to. I am staying at the 'Anchor,' in a side street from this. If -you will do me the honour to follow me, I can take you into a private -room there, where we shall not be observed nor overheard." - -Like a man in a dream, Hugh found himself following Mr. Davidson to the -"Anchor," one of the second-class hotels in the town. He was quite -sure that this tall, military looking person was going to clear up the -mystery of the couple whom Blankfield, in its wisdom, had refused to -visit, and whose acquaintance he owed to a random meeting at a tea-shop. - -There were only one or two idlers in the entrance-hall of the hotel, -which was of what is known as the "Commercial" kind. Murchison was glad -to find that he did not seem to attract their observation, as he rapidly -crossed over to where his new acquaintance was standing in a rather dark -corner. - -Davidson piloted him into a little sitting-room which opened out of a -long narrow passage. He rang the bell, and ordered refreshments with the -manner of a man who was acquainted with the usages of polite society. - -It would be quite safe to say that Hugh, the heir to a great fortune, -brought up in the lap of luxury, an aristocrat by adoption, if not -exactly by birth, had never found himself up till now in such an -environment. He could not truthfully declare that it was an experience -he wished to repeat. - -Still, he could blame nobody but himself, his foolish action in taking -up with a couple of persons whom Blankfield, in its superior worldly -wisdom, had decided to ignore. As he was in for it, and nothing could -undo the past, it was better to go through with it. Let him accommodate -himself to the situation, drink his whisky-and-soda in this dingy little -parlour of a second-rate hotel, and treat the detective with genial -courtesy. - -After the first mouthful of his drink, Davidson began to explain. - -"Of course, sir, I quite understand this is not the sort of thing or -the sort of place to which you are accustomed," he said, waving -a deprecatory hand round the shabby little parlour. "But in this -particular case, I and my friend--that friend I may say at the moment -is elsewhere taking his observations--wanted to lie low. It didn't -enter into our scheme to put up at a swagger hotel, and run the risk of -gossip. It might have reached the ears of those we are after, and scared -them off." Hugh listened attentively. There was something very serious -in the wind now, and the dwellers at Rosemount were as yet unaware of -what was impending. - -His surprise expressed itself in the direct question which he shot at -the detective: "I take it you are here to arrest them, then?" - -"One of them, the man," corrected Mr. Davidson, quietly; "we know a good -deal about the girl, but we have no evidence that implicates her beyond -the fact of her association with him, and from our point of view that -means nothing in a Court of Law." - -"What is his offence?" asked the startled Hugh. - -"Forgery," was the laconic answer. "He belongs to a pretty well-known -gang, and we have had our suspicions of him for a long time now, but he -was devilish clever and cunning. Several of his pals were caught, but it -was always difficult to rope him in. We shouldn't have got him now but -for the fact of one of his pals peaching. And even now, although the -evidence is strong enough for us, I doubt if it is strong enough to get -him more than a comparatively light sentence. If he can lay hold of a -clever counsel, and there will be some money at the back of him, if not -a great deal, he won't come off so badly." - -So Mr. Burton was a criminal, and had been living in Blankfield on the -proceeds of his nefarious calling. The rich uncle in Australia who had -left him a comfortable fortune was a myth. - -"I suppose he has been on the 'crook' all his life?" queried Hugh. - -"Ever since he has come under our observation," was the reply of the -detective. "Before he joined the present gang, a few of whom we have -collared from time to time, card-sharping was his lay. Once he rented an -expensive flat in Paris, and I believe made a tidy bit out of it. That -is where the young lady first appeared upon the scene." - -"But how long ago is that? She doesn't look more than twenty." - -"I know," said Mr. Davidson. "She looks wonderfully young, that is one -of her assets. As a matter of fact I should say she was twenty-four at -the least. The Parisian episode occurred about five years ago, making -her nineteen at the time. He was there about twelve months, at the end -of which time he got an introduction to the forging gang, and chucked -the cards in favour of a more remunerative game." - -"She acted, I suppose, as a decoy and confederate?" - -"So I am given to understand. She very seldom played herself, but used -to signal the opponents' cards to him." - -"What a precious pair," groaned Hugh. He had long been doubtful of them, -but he had never anticipated this. - -"Now, Captain Murchison, there is a little question I want to ask you," -said the detective briskly, after a brief pause. "My pal and I only -arrived here yesterday, but we have not been idle, we have picked up -a good deal. We have discovered that nobody in Blankfield visits them, -except yourself and another officer, a Mr. Pomfret. That is true, is it -not?" - -"Quite true," assented Murchison. - -"You frequently go to their house together. But perhaps I may be telling -you something you don't know when I say that Mr. Pomfret more frequently -has gone alone." - -"I have had my suspicions some time," was Hugh's answer. - -"Now tell me, please; I suppose in the evenings you played cards, or -roulette, or some game of chance. I thought so. Did you lose much? Had -you any suspicions they were rooking you?" - -"On my first visit, a suspicion that they might do so crossed my mind. -But nothing of the sort was attempted. I should say that, up to the -present, my friend and I stand a bit to the good. Evidently, that was -not their object." - -"Clearly," assented the shrewd detective, "they had a deeper game than -that on. They wanted to catch this young friend of yours for a husband, -and failing that, to entrap him, so that they could blackmail him on the -threat of a breach of promise case." - -"It looks as if that was their object." - -"Now, Captain Murchison, may I ask you if your friend is a man likely -to fall into the trap? I saw him in the High Street this afternoon -with you: and if I may say so without offence, he doesn't give me the -impression of a very strong or self-reliant person." - -Hugh shook his head. "I fear he is very weak, very impulsive, very -emotional, a ready prey for a designing woman." - -"Have you any idea how far the thing has gone?" - -To this question Hugh could only reply in the negative. His one hope was -that the foolish boy had seen her so often that there was no necessity -to write incriminating letters. - -"Well, Captain Murchison, my object in asking you to grant me an -interview was two-fold. In the first place, I wanted to know if there -had been any card-sharping. Then, as I am aware you go to the house, I -wished to tell you that I and my friend are going to take him to-night. -It might happen that you would be going there, and of course, you will -not want to be on the stage when we play our little comedy." - -"We have promised to go to dinner tonight. She asked us both when we met -her this afternoon." - -"And of course now, you will not go. I will take him before dinner-time, -so you need not send round any excuses." - -Poor Hugh felt very miserable. What he especially shirked was having to -tell this sordid narrative to Pomfret. He expressed to the detective his -shrinking from the unwelcome task. - -"I quite understand, sir, but it's got to be done," replied the -detective, firmly. For a few seconds after he had spoken, he seemed to -be thinking deeply. Then he came out with a startling proposition. - -"Look here, Captain Murchison, something has just occurred to me. I am -not sure whether you will think it a good plan. Just now I thought it -would be better for you not to be there. But if this young gentleman -is so gone on the girl, it might make a deeper impression on him, bring -home to him more strongly the sense of her unworthiness, if he were -actually present at the scene. And it would spare you any painful -explanations, beforehand. Afterwards you can tell him or not, as you -please, about our interview here." - -Hugh made a gesture of disgust. "You propose that we should carry out -our original intention of dining there and of sitting at the table of a -criminal? I don't think I could bring myself to it." - -If Mr. Davidson did not quite agree with the young man's scruples, he -was open-minded enough to see the matter from Hugh's point of view. - -"I quite understand, sir. But I think I can manage it all right. You -say they dine at eight. Get there with your friend a quarter of an hour -before. I will be there with my friend at five minutes to, before the -dinner is served. You then won't have to sit at his table, you see." - -Hugh was still hesitating. Mr. Davidson proceeded to clinch his -argument. - -"You see, sir, it will be so much better for Mr. Pomfret to see with -his own eyes and hear with his own ears. When he has seen us clap -the darbies on Burton, and listened to what I can tell him about the -girl--you can just give me a lead there, if you don't mind--I think he -will be cured of his calf-love on the spot. As far as he is concerned, -we want to make a swift and sudden cure, to kill his affection at once." - -Yes, on the whole, after a little further reflection Murchison was -disposed to fall in with this new suggestion. Pomfret, however deep his -infatuation, could not resist the evidence of his own senses. He would -be much more strongly impressed than by a mere bald narration of the -facts as conveyed to his friend by the detective. - -So it was settled. Hugh would bring Pomfret to Rosemount at twenty -minutes or a quarter to eight. At five minutes to, Davidson and his -colleague would present themselves to execute their painful errand. - -"Just a word before I go," said the young man as he turned towards the -door. "Is the man's name really Burton, or only an alias?" - -"That is his real name. Of course he has had aliases. His family, I -understand, are respectable people of the lower middle-class. He was the -black sheep, born with crooked and criminal instincts." - -"And the girl, is she really his sister?" - -"On that point, I have no positive information," replied Davidson. "She -has passed as such ever since the Paris days. But I should very much -doubt it. I am informed that they are very unlike in manners and -appearance, that he is a rough sort of fellow, while she would pass -anywhere for a lady." - -Hugh went back to the barracks, more than rejoiced at the fact that the -detective seemed to have appeared on the scene in the very nick of time. -If marriage was contemplated as the result of this clandestine wooing, -what a terrible tragedy would be averted from the unlucky Pomfret! - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -|It was twenty minutes to eight as the two young men rang at the -door-bell of Rosemount. Pomfret was always a slow dresser. It was only -by extraordinary efforts that Hugh had got him off in time. - -Brother and sister were awaiting them in the pretty drawing-room, lit -with softly shaded lamps. Miss Burton rose to meet them, she extended -a hand to each, in her pretty graceful way, as if she looked upon them -both as her dearest friends, and would make no difference between them -in her greeting. - -But Hugh was very wide-awake, after his meeting with the detective, and -he did notice that the left hand which she extended to Pomfret lingered -a little longer in his responsive clasp than did the right which she had -given to him. - -Yes, it was obvious that their acquaintance had gone far. There was -even, he fancied, an intelligent sympathy in their mutual glances. -Pomfret was the lover, Hugh Murchison was simply the friend. - -Mr. Burton welcomed them heartily. "Just like old times," he cried in -his rough, breezy fashion. "I've been like a fish out of water during -Norah's absence. It was just like her to organise a little party, simply -us four, to celebrate her return." - -It struck Hugh that his conviviality was just a trifle forced, that he -seemed "jumpy" and nervous. Had he by chance spotted those two strangers -in the High Street, and wondered what manner of men they were? - -Pomfret settled himself on the chesterfield beside Norah, in spite -of her rather obvious signals to preserve a more discreet attitude. -Ignorant of what was going to happen a few minutes hence, her great -object was to conceal the fact that Jack should take the position of an -acknowledged lover. - -In her secret heart, she was very apprehensive of Murchison. She knew he -was suspicious of her, and he had a sort of elder brother affection for -Pomfret. She was not by any means sure as to the lengths to which this -fraternal feeling might lead him. It might even inspire him to evoke the -assistance of the Pomfret family, and then the security of her present -position might be menaced. - -The secret marriage was, after all, in the nature of a gamble. If things -turned out as she expected, if the old aunt died in reasonable time, the -odds were in her favour. She could twist Jack round her little finger. -But nobody knew better than this astute young woman of the world that -there is many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Something that she had -not calculated, not foreseen, might happen at any moment, and her house -of cards might tumble to the ground. Her adventurous life had taught her -never to be too sure of momentary prosperity. - -She was a little bit nervous and "jumpy," like her brother, to-night. -Her smile was a little forced, her high spirits rather assumed. The -wedding-ring, the marriage certificate hidden from sight, were great -assets. And yet, was it all just a little too good to be quite true? - -Murchison talked with the brother, desultory sort of talk, hardly -conscious of what he was saying. His ears were straining for the sound -of that eletric-bell which would herald the arrival of Davidson and his -colleague. - -And it came very quickly. There was a loud, imperative peal. Burton -started from his seat, and forgot his assumed good manners. - -"Who the devil is that?" he cried fiercely. "Do they want to knock the -house down?" It was the vulgar exclamation of a very vulgar man. - -Miss Burton was more mistress of herself, but Hugh observed that her -cheek went a shade paler. Well, it was only natural. These two had been -living in fear of the law for more years than they cared to remember. -And they had thought they were safely in harbour. Poor fools! - -She turned to Pomfret, and forced a wan smile. "It is really quite -alarming, Mr. Pomfret, visitors at this time of the evening. And you -know so well that nobody in Blankfield, except yourselves, ever crosses -our threshold." - -The happy Jack, the husband of a few short hours, was quite unperturbed. -He smiled back at her confidently. - -"Somebody come to the wrong house, I should say. Why, you have gone -quite pale! What a nervous little thing it is!" He whispered the last -sentence in a lover-like tone. - -Murchison felt every nerve in his body tingling. Jack was in a state of -ignorance. The brother and sister, he was sure, were filled with vague -and undefined alarms. He, alone out of the four sitting in that charming -little drawing-room awaiting the announcement of dinner, was sure of -what was going to happen. - -He stole a look across at Pomfret with the happy, fatuous smile of the -successful lover on his face. Poor devil! In another couple of minutes -he would be terribly disillusioned. - -There was a heavy trampling of feet across the hall. The visitors, -whoever they were, had pushed past the trim and ladylike parlourmaid. - -The drawing-room door was flung open, and the two big men, Davidson and -his colleague, advanced towards Burton who was standing in the middle of -the room. - -The detective spoke in a clear, ringing voice. "It's all up, Mr. Burton, -I won't trouble to recount your various aliases. I've a warrant here to -arrest you on a charge of forgery. You've gone free for some time, but -one of your old pals has peached upon you. Hard luck for you, otherwise -you might have been playing still, perhaps for ever, this nice little -'stunt' at Blankfield. I suppose you will come quietly?" - -For a few seconds George Burton indulged in some horrible imprecations. -In the same breath he protested his absolute innocence, and denounced -the "pal" who had betrayed him. Mr. Davidson cut him short, as he -fastened the handcuffs on his wrist. - -"Stow it, old man! Be a sport. It's a fair cop, isn't it? You knew the -risk you ran when you went into this business." - -Mr. Burton subsided. "Yes, it's a fair cop," he growled. "I don't blame -you, you are only doing your duty. I've no grudge against you. But by -Heaven, when I come out, I'll do for that swine who has given me away, -if I have to swing for it." - -Pomfret had risen from his seat on the chesterfield at the dramatic -entrance of the two strangers. Norah had risen also. In the few seconds -that elapsed between their entrance and the clapping of the handcuffs -on Burton, she stretched out appealing arms to him, and cried out in a -voice of despair: - -"Stand by me, Jack, stand by me. I knew nothing of this. It is as great -a surprise to me as to you. Oh, my poor brother! He has done this for -love of me." - -Murchison heard the impassioned tones, the despairing appeal. They -would have melted a heart of stone. What effect would they have upon the -unsuspicious Jack? - -Pomfret withdrew himself, almost coldly, from the proffered embrace. In -a few seconds, as it seemed to Hugh, he had grown from a boy to a man. - -He turned to the detective, and Hugh was delighted at the sudden dignity -that seemed to have come to him. - -"You seem to know a great deal about this man whom you have handcuffed, -and who admits you are only doing your duty. Do you know anything about -his sister, Miss Burton?" - -Mr. Davidson glanced significantly at Murchison. They had arranged -a little conversation between themselves, but Jack's frankness had -rendered this unnecessary. - -"What I know of the young lady, sir, I am sorry to tell you, is not to -her credit. She has been associated with this man for some years. She -started with him in Paris some time ago, when he was a card-sharper, and -running a gambling-saloon. But to be fair, she is not in this business -with him, and I have nothing against her." - -"Are they what they represent themselves to be, brother and sister?" -Pomfret's voice was very quiet, but there was in it a suppressed note -of agony. How he had loved this girl, and a few hours ago he had clasped -her in his arms as his wife! - -The keen eyes of the detective softened as he looked at Jack, who was -hiding the most intense agitation under an apparently stoical demeanour. - -"I have no accurate information on that point, sir, but I should very -much doubt the fact of their relationship." - -While this brief conversation was taking place between Pomfret and -Davidson, Norah was still standing with arms outstretched. - -Again there came forth the appealing, impassioned cry: "Jack, stand by -me! Jack, stand by me!" She sank down on the sofa, and put her hands -before her face. "Stay with me, wait till they have all gone, and I will -explain everything. I have nothing to do with this." - -But Pomfret stood like a man turned to stone. Then suddenly, Norah gave -a little gurgling cry, and fainted. Pomfret made a step towards her, and -halted. His great love for her had been killed. Perhaps at this moment -he hated her more than he had ever loved her. - -The parlour-maid, with a white face, was peeping in the room. Davidson -beckoned to her. - -"My colleague will help you to take her up to her room. Look after her. -She's as game as they make them, but to-night's t been too much for her. -She has been playing for big stakes, and she has lost." - -The maid and Davidson's burly assistant lifted up the recumbent form. -And when they had carried her out, Pomfret's self-control seemed to give -way. He suddenly clutched at his throat and turned to Hugh. - -"Old man, I have had as much as I can stand. For Heaven's sake, take me -from this accursed house." - -Hugh put his arm under his to steady him. - -The boy's nerve had gone, he was trembling like a man stricken with the -ague. There was no cab or taxi to be got in this outlying district. They -had to walk back to the barracks. - -Hugh planted him in an easy-chair in his own quarters, and mixed him a -stiff peg. Even Dutch courage was better than nothing. Pom-fret drank it -in two big gulps. Then he pulled himself together. - -"I have been an infernal fool, old man," he gasped, "an infernal fool." - -Hugh spoke soothingly. "Of course you have. But the folly is over. You -now know Norah Burton and her rascally brother for what they are, a pair -of criminals and adventurers." - -"But you don't know all," groaned the unfortunate Jack. "Norah Burton is -my wife. I married her secretly the other day, by special licence, while -I was up in London." - -Hugh leapt to his feet in astonishment. He had his own ideas of that -visit to London, coupled with Norah's absence. But that Pom-fret, weak -and impressionable as he was, should have made such a fool of himself, -was beyond the limits of his comprehension. - -In a moment he pulled himself together. The poor lad was in a big mess -enough, it was no time to rub it in. "Tell me all about it, old chap," -he said quietly. - -And Pomfret told him. He made it clear, perfect gentleman as he -was, that Norah had been the least to blame in the matter, that -the suggestion had come from himself, that Norah had insisted upon -consulting her brother before yielding to his wishes. - -Yes, of course, Hugh could understand all that. They had known just the -kind of man they were dealing with. They had hooked and landed their -fish well. To a woman in her uncertain state, a husband with some -prospects was better than her insecure position with a scoundrel like -George Burton. - -Hugh filled a big pipe full up with a very strong and potent tobacco. -He thought better when he was smoking, and this was a situation that -demanded a good deal of thought. - -After a while he spoke. "Well, Jack, let us look facts in the face. What -is done can't be undone. You have married this woman, and as long as she -lives she is entitled to call herself Mrs. Pomfret, and you will have to -keep her. There is no getting over that." - -The unhappy Jack groaned. There was no getting over that. This -attractive, charming young woman, sister or confederate, or whatever -relationship she stood in to this wretched criminal, was his legal wife, -and, if she chose, she could make things very uncomfortable for him. - -"Well, old man, you have made a hash of your life at the very beginning -of it. As I say, that can't be undone. You've got to make the best of -it. I suppose you have entered into some financial arrangements with -her." - -"Seven hundred a year till I come into my aunt's money. After that, -of course, our marriage was to be acknowledged, and we would live -together." - -"I see," said Hugh, assuming a cheerfulness he did not quite feel. -"Well, I should not say she would try for more than her seven hundred a -year at present. When your aunt dies she will of course fight for a bit -more. I take it, after to-night's work, you will never want to live with -her, cajoling and attractive as she is." - -Pomfret shuddered. "After what that fellow said, my love for her died. -But, by Heaven, Hugh, I did love her while I believed in her." - -"Of course, of course. Have you signed any document about that seven -hundred, by the way?" - -"Not yet. My solicitor is sending me the document to-day, it will reach -me to-morrow morning." - -"It will make it a little easier to deal with her, then. Are you going -to leave yourself in my hands? I don't think she will be very full of -fight for the next few days." - -"Certainly I will, Hugh. Do your best for me. I never want to see her -again, of that you may be sure." - -Murchison reflected deeply before he spoke again. "I doubt if she will -trouble you very much. It won't be very difficult to compromise with -her, she has too much to hide. And now for yourself." - -"Yes," groaned the unhappy Pomfret, in a hollow voice. "And now for -myself. What do you suggest?" - -"There's only one thing to do, and that is to put the past behind -you. As long as this woman lives, you can never marry. But many men go -through life and remain bachelors, and are not altogether unhappy. You -must make up your mind to be one of the bachelors, Jack." - -But Jack looked very despairing. The shock had been a terrible one. In -spite of the stiff peg he had taken, his face was still livid, and his -hands were shaking. - -Hugh looked at him anxiously. He was very weak; had the occurrences -of this terrible night driven him over the border line that separates -sanity from insanity? - -Presently he muttered, almost as if to himself, certain disjointed -phrases. Hugh caught a few of them, repeated again and again. - -"Tied to her for life, she will outlive me, tied to her for life. She -will never let me go. My poor family! I have always been a fool, but up -to now have never brought disgrace to them. And God forgive me, I was -reckoning on the death of my poor old generous aunt, it is idle to say -I did not speculate on it. And for what, for what?--the pretended -affection, the bought kisses of this adventuress, a card-sharper's -decoy, who told me lying tales about the way in which her criminal -associate had inherited his money." - -He rambled on like this for some quarter of an hour, and Murchison -judged it was better to let him ease his mind in such a fashion. - -In a way, the poor foolish boy's brain had cleared up to a point; he was -able to look the facts squarely in the face. His infatuation might have -been so deep that he might, under these damning circumstances, have -fallen a victim to her wiles a second time. She would no doubt have -been prepared, if he had given her the opportunity, to have sworn her -innocence, to have protested that she was the victim of circumstantial -evidence, that she had believed what her brother had told her, that she -had never been a partner in, or a confidant of, his criminal schemes. - -No, so far the rude shock had cleared his brain, made him see and think -more clearly. But Murchison very much feared that the agonising remorse -for his folly was obscuring it in another direction. - -He seemed to look upon himself as something unclean in having allowed -himself to be contaminated by association with such a wretched -adventuress. He was also acutely conscious that, at the best, he would -have to take this horrible secret with him to the grave, unless it -sprang suddenly to light, as such secrets have a knack of doing. Above -all, he keenly felt the disgrace he had inflicted on his family. - -There was a great deal more desultory talk, and Hugh gave him the best -advice he could under the unhappy circumstances--a reiteration of the -"put it behind you and live it down" philosophy. This would have come -easy to a man of the rocky and stolid type to which Murchison belonged -by temperament. But Jack was highly-strung and impulsive. There was no -ballast in him. - -Hugh almost had to push him out of the room. But, before doing so, he -mixed the boy another stiff peg, with the hope that it would induce -sleep and purchase him the oblivion of a few hours. - -"Now then, old man, toddle off. Get a good night's rest, and when you -wake tomorrow, you will find things look pretty black, but not quite so -black as now. If this young woman contemplates a deep game, and wants to -insist overmuch on her rights as your wife, I will deal with her on your -behalf. I'll warrant I bring her to reason." - -The poor distraught boy clasped his friend's hand convulsively. "Hugh, -old chap, you are the best friend a man could ever have, true as steel." - -"Don't say that," replied Hugh with a little break in his voice. "I am -bound to do the best for you. It was owing to my infernal folly that you -ever set foot in that cursed house. I am older and stronger than you, I -ought to have known better. Well, good old Jack, good-night! I tell you, -things won't look quite as black to-morrow." - -But to Hugh's intense grief and remorse, there was no morrow for the -unhappy boy, whose mind had been quite unhinged by the events of -that terrible night. One could only surmise that he had found sleep -impossible, and in a fit of frenzy had taken his life to escape from a -future so black and discouraging. - -When his servant went to call him in the morning, he found his master -lying on the floor, with a bullet-hole in the middle of his forehead. -Everybody in the barracks had been fast asleep when the poor boy had -fired the shot that was to take him out of his troubles, and nobody had -heard the report. - -At the inquest, the whole miserable story came out. Of course it came -through Hugh, the only person who was in possession of it. He narrated -the details of his acquaintance with the Burtons, the introduction -of Jack Pomfret to the house, the scene at Rosemount when the two -detectives had taken the man, Jack's confession that he had made the -girl his wife a few hours previously. - -Hugh never forgot that interview with the Colonel, in which "Old -Fireworks" poured out his wrath in no measured terms. He roundly called -him an infernal fool for mixing himself up with people of whom he knew -nothing, and whom Blankfield in its ignorance of their antecedents had -declined to visit--and very wisely. - -"If it had been poor Jack, a dear lad but a foolish, I could have found -it in my heart to forgive him," he ended. "But you are a man of another -sort, you have got your wits about you, if you choose to exercise them. -I will never pardon you that day's work. You can play with fire and not -be scorched, but he couldn't. That poor boy's death lies at your door, -sir. I hope you realise it." - -Yes, Hugh did realise it. He stood with bowed head, and could not utter -a word in self-defence. - -The news, of course, was all over the town the next morning, or rather -the double news--that George Burton had been arrested by two detectives -from Scotland Yard, and that in the early morning of the following -day Jack Pomfret had blown out his brains. The evidence at the inquest -explained the double event. - -The news of her young husband's suicide reached Norah early in the -morning. She had gambled and lost. The old adventurous life was in front -of her again. - -She took the buffets of fate with the stoicism of her kind and class. -She had a comfortable little nest-egg put by which stood between her and -present want. If only Jack had been less emotional, she would not have -troubled him much, been content with quite a little. It is to be feared -that, in her bitter disappointment, she felt a little sore against Jack -for his moral cowardice in getting comfortably out of it himself, and -leaving her in the lurch. - -Anyway, she faced the situation with a courage that one could not refuse -to admire. By two o'clock that same day the servants had been paid their -wages, the keys of the furnished house handed over to the agent, and -Mrs. Pomfret had departed for London. - -Murchison could never forget that terrible time till something came -that seemed to dwarf all other things. In August, nineteen hundred and -fourteen, there burst the first storm of the war which shook the world -to its centre. In the blood-soaked plains of France he forgot everything -except his country. - -Jack Pomfret and Norah Burton seemed dim memories in those strenuous -times of the world's upheaval. And yet, when he had a moment's leisure -to think of the past, he felt a savage longing to be even with that -fair-faced, smiling adventuress who had driven his poor young friend to -a suicide's grave. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -|It's a good proposition, old man. You couldn't employ a couple of hours -better. I have been in London Society of all sorts for the best part of -my life, and I tell you that Stella Keane is the most charming girl I -have ever met." - -The speaker was little Tommy Esmond, short, genial, and rotund of -person. Tommy knew everybody who was anybody, and everybody knew the -mercurial Tommy. - -Guy Spencer puffed leisurely at his cigar, and regarded his rotund -little friend with an amused smile. Spencer was about thirty, Tommy was -old enough to be his father. But he wore well. - -"Most excellent Tommy, how many times have I heard you say the same -thing? Every girl you come across is the most charming you have ever -met--until one sees you the next week. And then, the last girl has the -super-charm--like the young lady you just mentioned, Miss Stella Keane." - -But Esmond was not to be rebuffed by a clumsy attempt at humour on the -part of a young man so much his junior. Besides, Tommy was impervious -to humour. It fell off him, like water from a duck's back. In his way he -was a very strenuous little man, he had no time to frivol. - -"Don't try to be funny, old man: it doesn't suit you. Be sensible, and -come round with me to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat and be introduced to Miss -Keane." - -"It's an interesting suggestion, Tommy, but before I decide tell me -first--who is Mrs. L'Estrange, and secondly, who and what is Miss -Keane?" - -And Tommy Esmond launched forth on a full flow of narrative. Mrs. -L'Estrange was the first cousin of a well-known Irish earl, and -was--well, in somewhat reduced circumstances, and had a snug little flat -in the Cadogan district. - -"Mrs. L'Estrange is quite satisfactorily explained," remarked Guy, -interrupting his rather voluble friend. "Now what do you really know -about Miss Keane?" - -Here, Esmond was a little less precise. Mrs. L'Estrange he knew quite -well, had known her ever since he had been in London; her ancestry and -connections were unimpeachable. - -Miss Keane, it would appear, had been suddenly projected into the -L'Estrange household, as it were, from space. He understood that she -was a distant connection, a far-off cousin, but he could give no -particulars. - -Tommy, with the born instinct of the true diplomatist, was always ready -to present everything in its best light, but he lacked the one essential -quality of the born diplomatist--he was not very successful when he came -to camouflaging facts. - -Spencer's smile was more amused than ever, as he regarded his genial -friend. Spencer was only thirty, and Tommy was at least old enough to -be his father. But there were times when the younger man thought he saw -more clearly than the elder. - -"Let us put it at this, Tommy. Mrs. L'Estrange, being in somewhat -straitened circumstances, supplements her meagre income by card-playing, -at which I have no doubt she is an adept." - -And here, the usually placid Tommy interposed hotly: "You may say -of Mrs. L'Estrange what you like. But, if you propose to offer any -derogatory remarks about Miss Keane, I would rather not listen to them." - -And Spencer kept a curb on his tongue. Was this fat, comical-looking -little man, a most unromantic figure, violently in love with Miss Stella -Keane, and her sworn champion? Far be it from him to disturb his faith -in this seductive siren, if it were so. - -"It's all right, old chap," he said quietly. "I am not going to make any -remarks, derogatory or otherwise, about Miss Keane. I think I will adopt -your suggestion. Let us adjourn to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat. If one loses -fifty or a hundred one may have a good time." - -"You will see the most charming girl in London," cried Esmond in -enthusiastic tones. It struck Spencer, as a peculiar phase of his t -friend's detachment, that, being in love with the girl himself, he -should be so anxious to introduce her to a younger man, who might, -presumably, be his rival. - -For there could be no question of rivalry between the two men, apart -from their ages. Spencer was tall, athletic, handsome: Tommy -Esmond was--just Tommy Esmond--rotund, comical in appearance, and -insignificant. - -Moreover, Spencer had other qualifications which are not without their -influence on the fair sex. He had a considerable fortune, and he was the -next in succession to an ancient earldom. If the Earl of Southleigh, a -widower, did not marry again, he would succeed to the title and estates. -He was, in every sense of the term, an eligible _parti_. - -The long, weary war was drawing to its close. The two men were dining -at the fashionable "Excelsior" and were now about half-way through their -dinner. - -Spencer had the bearing of a soldier, and he would have been at the -Front long ago, but no doctor could be found who would pass him. To all -appearance, he possessed the thews and sinews of an athlete, but the -stalwart, manly frame covered an incurably weak heart, which played him -strange tricks at times. He was serving his country in the best way open -to him, and doing good, sound clerical work in a Government Office. - -"When do you suggest we should put in an appearance at Mrs. -L'Estrange's?" he asked presently. - -"It will take us another half-hour to get through this abundant meal. -You will then have your coffee, and you will want a good and long -cigar. We began rather late, you will remember. By the time you have got -through your smoke, we will make a move. We shall then find them in full -swing." - -Guy nodded, and went on with his dinner. He was quite willing to go to -the L'Estrange flat: he had no other engagement this evening, and -it would be something to do. But he was not greatly interested about -meeting the most beautiful girl in London. In spite of his friend's -almost lyrical outbursts, he expected that Miss Stella Keane would prove -a very ordinary young woman. - -Suddenly Tommy Esmond uttered an exclamation. "Look, there they are," he -whispered excitedly across the table. "Mrs. L'Estrange and her cousin. -The man with them is Colonel Desmond, the man who won the Victoria Cross -in the Boer war." - -Tommy's round face was red with pleasurable emotion. Was there any -doubt, thought Spencer, that the little man was tremendously smitten by -the beautiful Miss Keane? would it result in a marriage, he wondered? -Tommy was well-off, and a person of some importance in his little social -world. And if Miss Keane was as lovely as his fond imagination painted -her, it was quite evident that she was poor. Penniless young girls have -before now accepted the shelter of a safe home, even when offered by -comical-looking little elderly men. - -The three newcomers moved to a vacant table; Mrs. L'Estrange, a woman of -middle age, dressed rather more youthfully than was quite in good taste, -their escort, a tall figure in khaki, very upright and soldierly in his -bearing, in spite of his sixty years, and last, but by no means least, -the beautiful Miss Keane. - -Yes, at the first glance, the young man decided that she fully deserved -his friend's somewhat extravagant praise. If everybody in London was not -raving over her, it was simply due to the fact that her cousin's circle -was not important, and that she had found nobody of sufficient social -influence to launch her with the necessary _cachet_. - -If she had made her _début_ at one of the great houses, stamped with -the approval of any one of London's distinguished hostesses, Society -journals would have gone into rhapsodies over her, and she would have -been one of the reigning beauties of the hour, far, far beyond the -aspirations of little Tommy Esmond. - -His own special taste rather inclined towards fair women, his cousin, -Lady Nina, of whom he was very fond, being a charming specimen of that -type. But he was no bigot in the matter of feminine beauty, and he was -prepared to admit that there were some dark women who could compare -favourably with their blonde sisters. - -But Stella Keane was not very dark. She had soft brown eyes, glossy -dark hair, and a beautiful creamy complexion, a mouth like Cupid's bow, -revealing when she smiled, teeth of a dazzling ivory. Her figure would -have been pronounced perfect by the most critical and fastidious artist. - -"What do you think of her?" asked the delighted Tommy, after he had -given his friend a decent time for his inspection. - -Tommy was a man whose friends had got into the habit of smiling at him, -even when they agreed with him. Spencer smiled at him quite as often as -any of his acquaintance, but at this moment he was perfectly grave. - -"You are quite right, old man, this time," he said quietly. "She is -really beautiful, and her carriage is splendid. She looks like a young -Empress--or, rather, she fulfils one's idea of what a young Empress -should be." - -Tommy beamed. He drank in the words of unstinted praise like wine. The -little blue eyes, usually devoid of expression, seemed suffused with -a soft emotion. There was something pathetic in his devotion to this -radiant young woman who looked like a youthful Empress. - -"And she is as good and sweet as she looks," he murmured in a voice that -he could not keep steady. "When she talks to you seriously and lets -you know what she really thinks and feels, by gad, Spencer, it makes a -battered old worldling like myself feel unworthy to be in her presence. -For she has a beautiful soul and mind as well as a beautiful body." - -Spencer could only look sympathetic. Poor little Tommy, he certainly -seemed to talk like a lover. And what did Miss Keane think of it all? -She must have more than a mere tolerance for him, or she would not have -allowed him those peeps into her mind and soul to which he alluded with -such unrestrained rapture. - -It was some time before Esmond's intense gaze attracted the attention -of the party, and when it did, he was rewarded with a most affable smile -from Mrs. L'Estrange, and one of quite pronounced friendliness from Miss -Keane. The Colonel also bestowed a genial nod. - -After a pause, Tommy spoke somewhat ruefully. "I'm afraid this rather -upsets our little plans. Mrs. L'Estrange is a most conscientious diner: -she will be here, at the lowest calculation, for an hour and a half, -counting the coffee and cigarettes. They won't be back at the flat under -a couple. You wouldn't care to wait so long." - -He looked rather wistfully at his companion. He, for his own part, would -have waited half the night. - -"Don't let us commit ourselves, old man, but await events. We haven't -finished our dinner yet, and the service is deucedly slow. We can put -in a lot more time. You can pay your respects at a fitting moment, and -perhaps they will ask us to their table. I must confess I should like -to see Miss Keane at closer quarters, and talk to her. Although I don't -expect she will reveal as much to me as she does to you." - -Tommy looked pleased again; he was very bent upon introducing Spencer to -his beautiful young friend. It would come about presently: if not here, -in the lounge. Already, Mrs. L'Estrange had sent a few covert glances -in the direction of their table. There was little doubt she knew who -his companion was, and would be quite pleased to number him amongst her -acquaintance. - -"Has Miss Keane many admirers? She should have," remarked Spencer -presently. He noticed that Esmond's eyes were always turned in the -direction of that particular table. - -"Not any serious ones, I fancy. A few young fellows send her flowers, -but nothing more. It is quite an unsuitable _ménage_ for a girl of her -attractions. The majority of the _habitués_ are middle-aged men who -go there simply to gamble. The few young ones come for a flutter, and -disappear when they have had enough." - -"Does the young lady play?" - -"I have never seen her. She has told me scores of times that she loathes -gambling. Her father ruined himself by it. I believe she is really very -unhappy there. And I gather Mrs. L'Estrange has not the best of tempers, -particularly when she has had bad luck." - -"Hobson's choice, I expect," suggested Spencer sympathetically. Miss -Keane was facing him, giving him ample opportunity to examine the -beautiful countenance, and it struck him that there was an underlying -expression of sadness on the perfect features, especially when in -repose. - -"I fear so," was Esmond's answer. "She is very reticent about her own -affairs, as any gentlewoman would be. But from certain things she has -let drop, I make out her own means are very slender, and her cousin's -hospitality is a boon to her." - -Half an hour passed, and Spencer lit a big cigar. The two men chatted -on various topics. Mrs. L'Estrange and the Colonel were still doing full -justice to the excellent dishes offered them. Miss Keane was apparently -satisfied, and sat quietly watching her companions, and throwing in an -occasional remark. - -And suddenly came the loud sound of maroons. Everybody started. A few -seconds later the clamour and roaring of our own guns burst forth. There -was no doubt as to what was happening. The Germans were making one of -their unwelcome visits. - -"By heavens, it's a raid, and we are in the thick of it," cried Tommy -Esmond, rising excitedly. He was a nervous little man, and his face had -grown a shade pale at the sound of the first boom. - -In a few moments there was a stampede from the dining-room. The guests -hurried as fast as they could to the basement and cellars. - -Tommy, in his progress, was impeded by two burly men who were making -their way leisurely. Spencer was a few feet in front of him, making for -the crowd that surged round the doors. As he looked around the deserted -tables, he saw Miss Keane standing alone, her eyes almost rigid with -terror, her hands clutching convulsively the back of the chair on -which she had been sitting. It was evident that the Colonel had quickly -removed Mrs. L'Estrange from the scene of danger, and she had been too -panic-stricken to follow them. - -He crossed over to her. "Excuse me," he said gently. "I am a friend of -Mr. Esmond's. How is it you are alone? Did your companions desert you?" - -"Colonel Desmond took my cousin, and told me to keep close behind them. -when I got up, my limbs seemed unable to move. I feel as if I were -paralysed." - -He took her arm and put it through his. It was evident she had been -rendered immobile by terror. - -"I will take care of you," he said soothingly. "Downstairs you will be -quite safe. But we will let this crowd get through first." - -Tommy Esmond came bustling up, all anxiety. Truth to tell, he did -not feel over brave, but his anxiety for himself was lost in the -contemplation of her white face and stricken eyes. - -Slowly, cheered by the presence of the two men, a little colour flowed -back into her cheeks, and she smiled wanly. - -"I am a fearful coward," she explained. "I go all to pieces in even the -mildest thunderstorm." - -And it was in this wise, amid the crash of falling bombs, and the roar -and clamour of our own guns, that Guy Spencer made the acquaintance of -Stella Keane. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -|They found shelter in one of the big cellars of the Restaurant, and -Miss Keane by degrees got back some of her courage. There were about -twenty other persons in the same refuge, and she probably derived -fortitude from their temporary companionship, and common danger. Tommy -Esmond recovered himself very quickly, and hastened to observe the -conventions. - -"It is a queer time and place in which to make introductions," he -remarked genially. "But even in times of peril, one should preserve -the usages of good society. I don't suppose you know the name of -your gallant rescuer. Let me make you known, in a formal fashion. Mr. -Spencer--Miss Keane." - -The beautiful Stella bowed her dark head, and the ghost of a smile -flitted over her still pale face. - -"I know Mr. Spencer very well by sight. When I have recovered my wits, I -will thank him properly and prettily. Perhaps he will come and see us at -my cousin's flat." - -"I was bringing him on there to-night, as a matter of fact," explained -Esmond. "But I presume all that is knocked on the head, even supposing -we get out of this disgusting hole in reasonable time. Mrs. L'Estrange -won't be in a mood to receive visitors, after this disquieting -experience, I am sure." - -"I am afraid you don't know Mrs. L'Estrange," replied the girl, with a -little mocking laugh. Her tones were not yet quite steady, but she -was rapidly recovering herself. "The card tables were laid before we -started, and we intended to be back early. If we get out safely from -this disgusting hole, as you call it, my cousin will resume her ordinary -pursuits, as if nothing had occurred to disturb them." - -Desultory conversation, the irresponsible chatter of the drawing-room -kind, was almost impossible under the circumstances. And although Miss -Keane did her best to assume a brave front, it was easy to see that -she was inwardly quivering. At every roar of the guns, she shivered all -over, and her cheek alternately flushed and then grew deadly pale with -her inward terror. - -"Poor child," whispered Spencer to his companion; "she must be a bundle -of nerves. Every second, she is experiencing the pangs of death in -anticipation. By the way, the gallant Desmond doesn't seem to have -troubled himself much about her. If I hadn't taken her forcibly away, I -believe she would be rooted to that chair now." - -Esmond shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, a chap like Desmond doesn't -know the meaning of fear, and he can't understand the sensation in -others. The other woman took possession of him, and dragged him away. -No doubt, he thought she was following. Mrs. L'Estrange, so far as I can -judge, would never think of anything but number one." - -And as Spencer's glance stole to the fair face, he felt a strange -feeling of pity for her. The poignant happenings of the last few moments -had revealed to him her loneliness, the tragedy of her dependence upon -others. In a supreme moment of peril, she, who ought to have lovers -and friends by the score, was left by herself, and thrown upon the -compassion of a stranger. - -An anxious half-hour passed, and then messengers came down with -tidings of a reassuring nature. The raiders had been driven off, after -inflicting considerable damage. Gay London was free to pursue its -natural course of pleasure. - -At once the tension was relaxed. Drooping forms resumed an erect -carriage, the roses bloomed again in the pale cheeks of the women. There -was a flutter, a stir. They all moved away from the refuge which had -been so welcome, and now had become unbearable. - -In the hall they encountered the Colonel, cool and collected, as if he -were on parade, Mrs. L'Estrange fluttering and full of protestations. - -"Oh, my poor Stella! I have been distracted about you. Why did you not -follow us? I thought you were close behind us all the time, till we got -to one of these abominable cellars, and looked back to find you were -missing." - -The Colonel pulled at his moustache a little nervously. - -"I shall never forgive myself, Miss Keane, not to have assured myself -you were with us at the start. I would have come back to search for you, -but Mrs. L'Estrange was in such a nervous state I could not leave her." - -Miss Keane answered him very coldly, and to her cousin she did not -vouchsafe any reply. - -"Please do not apologise. It was a question of _sauve qui peut_. -Fortunately, I found some kind friends who took compassion on a forlorn -damsel, shaking and terror-stricken." She turned to Mrs. L'Estrange. -"Mr. Esmond is, of course, an old friend. But you do not know Mr. -Spencer who got to me first." - -Mrs. L'Estrange was quite equal to the occasion; she extended her -perfectly-gloved hand with an air of effusive cordiality. - -"A thousand thanks to you both. My darling Stella was fortunate in -finding such protectors. We are both terrible cowards, I don't know -which is the greater." - -"I, without question," flashed out Miss Keane. "Otherwise I should have -had the sense to scurry away like yourself. We were both frightened -rabbits, but you could run to a place of safety while I stood -paralysed." - -Mrs. L'Estrange turned away the awkward thrust with a charming smile. -"I have made up my mind to one thing," she remarked with an air of -conviction. "Never, so long as the War lasts, will I dine out of my own -home. This night's experience has taught me a lesson. I don't want a -second one." - -At this juncture, Tommy Esmond interposed. "I was going to bring my -friend Spencer round to you to-night. But I suppose you feel a bit too -shattered, eh? You would like to get home and rest." - -"Oh dear, no!" replied the lady vivaciously. "I never alter my habits -for anything or anybody. Let us all go along at once. I will go with -Colonel Desmond. You and Mr. Spencer can continue your charge of -Stella." - -But Guy had a small duty to perform. "I think if you will excuse me, -I will join you a little later. I want to go round to inquire after my -uncle and cousin. He is a very old man, and I should like to know he is -quite safe." - -So it was arranged. The others drove off to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat, and -Spencer, finding he would have some time to wait for a taxi, walked to -Carlton House Terrace, where Lord South-leigh had his town house. - -The footman who opened the door informed him that his lordship and Lady -Nina were still in the dining-room with a small party. The earl had -taken it all very calmly, and his daughter, who, unlike poor Stella -Keane, was a young woman of remarkable courage, had not been disturbed -at all. - -"Are they alone, Robert?" - -"No, sir, two old friends of his lordship's came to dinner to-night and -are still with them. But, of course, they will be glad to see you." - -However, his duty being performed, and learning that all was -satisfactory, Spencer thought he might as well get along to the flat. -He had been strangely attracted by the beautiful girl, whom even her -obvious terror and lack of self-control could not deprive of her charm. - -"No, I won't come in. Tell them I called round to make sure they were -all safe. And say to her ladyship I will look in to-morrow afternoon -about tea-time." - -He went into his club for a few moments to see if there were any -letters, and half an hour later was at Mrs. L'Estrange's door. - -She occupied the first floor of an imposing block of flats, recently -erected in one of the semi-fashionable quarters of London. She might not -be in very affluent circumstances, as Esmond had hinted, but she would -have to pay a very handsome rent for her abode. - -The door was opened by a decorous-looking butler, with the air of one -who had served in good families. A man passed out as Spencer entered. He -was a good-looking young fellow of about twenty-five, in khaki. Spencer -knew him well by sight as the eldest son and heir of a rich brewer. - -His face did not wear a very happy expression. It did not require a -Sherlock Holmes to surmise that his visit had been an expensive one, and -that he was hurrying away to avoid further temptation. - -In the centre of a rather spacious hall, Stella Keane and Tommy Esmond -stood chatting. - -She greeted the newcomer with a bright and friendly smile. She no longer -looked pale, in fact he thought there was a slight suspicion of rouge -on the fair cheeks. She was too goodlooking to need the aid of art, but -perhaps she wanted to conceal the ravages inflicted on her beauty by -that terrible time at the "Excelsior." - -"You are not very long after us. I conclude you found your friends were -quite safe." - -She had gathered from the garrulous Tommy what she had not known before, -that Spencer was next in succession to the earldom, also that Lord -Southleigh had a very pretty daughter, who was an accomplished young -sportswoman, a daring rider to hounds, an adept at golf, fishing, and -other pastimes of a strenuous nature. - -She had pricked up her ears at mention of the cousin. Artfully she -pumped Tommy as to whether there was any tender feeling between the -relatives. - -But Tommy could give no information on this point. Spencer was a very -reticent man about his private affairs, he explained. Personally, he -should not consider him particularly susceptible to female influence. -But he had heard that the old earl, who had a shockingly weak heart, and -was likely to go off at any moment, would have viewed a marriage between -the cousins with favour. - -She mused over his words. He did not think him particularly susceptible -to female influence. And yet she was sure there was admiration, -open, undisguised admiration, in the glances he had bestowed upon her -to-night. He was evidently not deeply in love with his pretty sporting -cousin, or she would have been Mrs. Guy Spencer before now, assuming, of -course, that she was ready to obey her father's wishes. - -It was after a short silence that Miss Keane put a somewhat abrupt -question to him: "Are you fond of play, Mr. Spencer? Everybody is who -comes here." - -"Not really. I am a very lukewarm gambler. I don't mind a little flutter -now and then, as a diversion. I always enjoy a small gamble at Monte -Carlo, for example, but I never get carried away. When I have lost -enough, I stop. Nothing could induce me to stake another _sou_." - -"Can you stop as easily when you are winning? That, I fancy, is where -the selfcontrol comes in. But I think I am rather glad you are not one -of the infatuated ones. I was brought up in an atmosphere of gambling." - -There was a pathetic shadow in the beautiful brown eyes as she spoke. -Spencer's interest in her, a girl he had only known for a couple of -hours, quickened. The glance he turned on her was full of sympathy, -although he did not utter a word. It said as plainly as if he had -spoken: "Tell me more about yourself, you will find an attentive -listener." - -"My father and mother were both desperate gamblers. They staked and lost -everything they had at cards, on the race-course, at Monte Carlo. My -poor cousin, Mrs. L'Estrange, has the same fever in her veins." - -Now that he had invited her confidence, he was a little embarrassed -by it. He did not know her well enough to condole with her. By way of -relieving the tension, he uttered a few trite remarks on the subject of -gambling generally. - -"Very sad when people are bitten by it to that extent. In my small -experience, and I am only speaking of cards, I have found that, at the -end of twelve months, you leave off pretty well where you started, good -players or bad. You lose a hundred this week, you win a hundred the -next, and so on, and so forth. If you are a good player, you get bad -cards; if a duffer, you get good cards. And so the bad player has a -pretty even chance with his more skilful opponent." - -Miss Keane threw aside her momentary sadness, and laughed at his -scientific exposition. - -"You have evidently thought it all out," she said brightly. "But please -don't inflict these cheerful theories on my cousin. She is a most tragic -being when she loses. She thinks herself, and I believe is, one of the -most scientific bridge-players in England, and she cannot be brought to -understand why the duffers should have a look in." - -At this juncture Tommy Esmond interposed. It may have occurred to him -that they were wasting precious time. They had come here for the special -purpose of gambling. - -"What do you say to joining the others? We are in the very temple of -gambling, and I know my young friend would like a little flutter." - -"Certainly. When I last peeped in, Amy looked the spirit of despair. I -think she must have been losing heavily." - -She turned to lead the way, but at that instant the door-bell rang, and -she halted, in readiness to greet the visitor, whoever it might be; and -there entered a florid-looking, stout man, who advanced towards her with -effusion, and both hands outstretched. - -"My dear Stella, I have been thinking of you ever since the raid began; -I know how terribly you suffer when they are on. And I knew you were -dining out to-night. I am rejoiced to see you safe and sound. I came -round here the moment I could get away." - -Miss Keane flushed slightly as he took her hands and wrung them -impressively to show his gratitude at her escape from peril. Tommy -Esmond had given him a cool nod. But she felt Spencer's calm, critical -gaze upon this ebullient expression of young English manhood. - -It was not so much what he said, as his manner of saying it. Bounder was -written all over him, in his appearance, his manners, his gestures. - -She answered him very briefly, almost curtly, as if she were -administering a cold douche. Then the flush deepened as she turned to -Spencer. - -"May I introduce my cousin, Mr. Dutton?" - -The florid man bowed with an exaggerated air of cordiality. Spencer, -who had taken a violent dislike to him from the first second he saw -him, acknowledged the salutation with chilling gravity; and Stella Keane -could almost read his thoughts, as his gaze travelled from one to the -other. - -How could this imperial-looking girl have such an unmitigated bounder -for a relative? What was the mystery about her that could make a -creature like this claim kinship with her? - - - - -CHAPTER X - -|Mrs. L'Estrange was evidently a great believer in light: the electric -bulbs glowed softly, but brilliantly, over the two rooms devoted to the -service of the card-players. - -On the sideboards were arranged decanters of whisky, and soda-water in -bottles and syphons. Whether he lost or won, the gambler, triumphant or -despairing, could quaff to his success, or solace his despair. - -The elderly, youthfully-dressed woman advanced towards the new visitors, -with a beaming expression of countenance. - -"Mr. Spencer, you will join us. What is your favourite game?" - -"Bridge," said Spencer, shortly. He was already a bit in love with -Stella Keane, but he was by no means favourably inclined to her gushing, -elderly cousin. - -He soon formed a party of four, and became absorbed, for the moment, -in the game. Tommy Esmond was playing the same game, at a table -some distance from him. Tommy was not supposed to be wealthy, but he -evidently had money enough to indulge in a quiet gamble now and then. - -He remembered every incident of that night. His partner was a -subordinate member of the Government, and a good sound player, lacking -a little perhaps in the qualities of initiative and rapid decision. -His opponents were a young man in the Foreign Office, and a slender, -hawk-nosed young woman of about thirty. - -All through he held abominable cards, but, truth to tell, he was not -very interested in the game. Whether he won or lost a hundred pounds did -not interest him very greatly. - -But what did interest him, to every fibre of his being, was that Stella -Keane hovered about his table. His eyes continually sought hers, and she -did not seem to avoid his glance. At times he was sure he could detect -a slight smile of intimacy. After all, had he not rescued her, half dead -with fright, in the dining-room of the "Excelsior"? - -Once she bent over him and whispered, her cool, fragrant breath fanning -his cheek: "You are having shocking bad luck. You haven't held a single -decent card." - -He whispered back: "What did I tell you a little time ago? I flatter -myself I am a fairly good bridge-player, but what could one do with -those cards of mine?" - -She fluttered away, with still the shadow of that intimate smile upon -her beautiful mouth, the smile that seemed to say they had only known -each other for a few hours, under romantic and dramatic circumstances, -but there was between them an affinity of spirit. - -He played on steadily for over an hour, and then a halt was cried. The -young gentleman from the Foreign Office and the hawknosed young woman -had scored. Guy Spencer rose from the table, the poorer by a hundred -and fifty pounds. He wrote his cheque with a light heart. A hundred and -fifty pounds was not a great price to pay for the introduction to Stella -Keane. - -Mrs. L'Estrange came impressively towards him. - -"Oh, Mr. Spencer, I hope you have not lost. If so, I fear you will never -come near me again." His glance roved in the direction of Stella, -talking, as it appeared earnestly, to that bounder of a cousin. There -came a steely look into his clear, resolute eyes. - -"If you will allow me, I shall be delighted to come here often to see -you and Miss Keane. I suppose I had better pick up my old friend Tommy -Esmond, if he is not too engrossed." But when he approached Esmond, that -little rotund gentleman waved him away, in most genial fashion. - -"Run away, dear boy. It is Eclipse first, and the rest nowhere. I am -winning hands down." Certainly he bore the mien of a conqueror. And -there, behind his chair, stood Stella Keane. - -She welcomed Spencer with that faint, intimate smile which had already -stirred his pulses. - -"I fear I brought you bad luck," she said, in her low, caressing voice. -"But to Mr. Esmond I have been the harbinger of good fortune. Are you -really going?" - -"I always go when I have won enough, or lost enough. You remember I gave -you a little homily on gambling generally, not so long ago." - -She took her hand off Esmond's chair. "Well, I will leave my good -influence behind, and look after the parting guest." - -She walked leisurely with him in the direction of the hall. It was -deserted, but the light was brilliant, as it was in every other corner -of the flat. - -She held out her hand impulsively. "Mr. Spencer, I have not thanked you -properly for your kindness to me to-night. Terror-stricken, paralysed -with fear, I should have been clinging to that chair now, if you had not -rescued me in time. How can I thank you?" - -Spencer laughed lightly. "One would think from your excessive gratitude -that you had not experienced a great deal of kindness in your life. And -yet that would be impossible." - -She flushed a little; his gaze was perhaps more full of admiration, of -frank and open compliment than could be justified by the briefness -of their acquaintance. And yet it only expressed what he was inwardly -thinking. - -Here was a girl who had only to look at her mirror to learn she was -endowed with singular beauty. She must also know that she combined with -her more than ordinary fairness an unusual charm of manner. - -How had it come about that one with such striking qualifications should -exhibit a certain underlying sadness, as if the world had already proved -a very disappointing place? Youth and good looks usually secure for -their owner a good time. Girls with half her attractions could find -plenty of admirers. What evil fate dogged her that she had to regard -a perfectly common act of kindness as something to be exceptionally -grateful for? - -"I have never been petted nor spoiled, even as a child," she answered -gravely. "My father and mother were ignorant of the duties, as they were -of the instincts, of parenthood. And since my poor pretence of a home -was broken up, I have been a derelict and a wanderer, sometimes a -tolerated guest, rarely, I fear, a very welcome one in the houses of -other people." - -"But you are happy here, surely?" he suggested. After saying so much, -she could hardly regard the question as an impertinent one. He longed to -hear her history. Well, if he came and cultivated her, and let her see -how sympathetic he could be, one day she would tell him. - -She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference. - -"My cousin is peculiar in many ways, and her devotion to play is an -obsession. We have very little in common; still, it would not be fair to -say she was difficult to get on with. I have been with her now for more -than eighteen months, and although we have often held totally different -opinions, I cannot remember that we have ever had a real quarrel. And, -anyway, it is a home and a shelter, and that is something." - -Not much enthusiasm here, certainly. Mrs. L'Estrange had been dismissed -with a very negative kind of faint praise. Her excellence seemed to lie -rather in the absence of bad qualities than the possession of good ones. - -And yet, he could not bring himself to believe that Miss Keane was an -ill-natured girl, or of an unresponsive temperament. He had to admit -that his impressions of his hostess were not too favourable. - -She was outwardly genial, and at times gushing. Yet he fancied he could -read behind this plausible exterior the signs of a hard, worldly nature. -There was no softness in her glance, no tenderness in her rather hard, -staccato tones. - -A girl with those glorious eyes, and mobile face, with the delicate -complexion that flushed and paled by turns, must surely be sweet and -sympathetic, and responsive to affection. How her voice had thrilled -with emotion when she thanked him. If she was disappointed in her -cousin, it must be the fault of the elder woman, who could not give what -was demanded by the younger and more ardent temperament. - -He would have lingered longer, trying to pierce the riddle from these -disjointed remarks, but they were interrupted by Tommy Esmond, who came -bustling into the hall, flushed with victory. - -"Never had such luck in my life. Just wiped the floor with them," he -explained excitedly. "You left your good influence behind, Miss Keane. A -few minutes sufficed for victory." - -"I am very glad, but I think my powers for good must be very limited, -for I brought bad luck to your friend," was her smiling rejoinder. - -He turned briskly to the young man. "It is a perfect night, Spencer. -Shall we walk down to the Club to get a breath of fresh air, and turn in -there for a quiet smoke?" - -Spencer nodded assent, and held out his hand to Miss Keane. - -"Well, good-bye for the present." - -"And I hope you will come and see us again soon. Don't wait for Mr. -Esmond to bring you: after our thrilling experiences of tonight, we are -more than ordinary acquaintances. We are at home nearly every night, -if you want to gamble. And, if you would like a little rational chat -instead, come in one afternoon to tea." - -"Thanks, I will. My card-playing fit has passed for a little time. Once -again, goodbye." - -And, as soon as they were in the street, Esmond burst in with the -question he was longing to ask. - -"Well, what do you think of her? Did I exaggerate?" - -"Not in the least," answered Spencer, speaking less seriously than he -felt, he did not quite know for what reason, unless it was that with a -man of his friend's calibre, he always had a tendency to discuss things -lightly. "No, I don't think you have exaggerated a bit this time; so -many of your swans have been geese, but this is a real swan, at last. -She is very lovely; even in her terror she looked beautiful, and she has -a peculiar, elusive charm. She makes you want to know more of her, and -penetrate the mystery which seems to hover around her.59 - -"I can't say I see any mystery, myself." Esmond spoke rather sharply, -for such a good-natured little man. - -"Perhaps it is too strong a word. But I take it, you know something -of the ménage, and can enlighten me on one point. What is her position -there: paid companion, a passing guest, or does she share the flat with -her cousin on some sort of terms?" - -It was a little time before Esmond answered. "I have never rightly got -at that myself. Sometimes I have thought one thing, sometimes another. -But I am pretty sure she is poor: in fact, she has admitted as much." - -"Poverty is relative after all, and it depends on how she was brought -up. She seems to dress well, and that cannot be done without money." - -Yes, Esmond admitted that she was turned out well. But he either could -not, or would not express any positive opinion upon the delicate subject -of Miss Keane's finances. - -"Does she ever play? She didn't touch a card while we were there, only -flitted about from table to table." - -No, Esmond had never seen her play since he had frequented the house. It -was clear, therefore, she did not make any pocket-money out of gambling. -He had to admit that she seemed to act as deputy hostess, and, he -believed, wrote most of her cousin's notes; in other words, made herself -useful. - -All this information, such as it was, he imparted, as it seemed to -Spencer, with some reluctance. Perhaps his keen admiration prompted him -to hide anything that served to show her in a dependent position. And -Spencer desisted from any further crossexamination on this head. - -On one point, however, he was determined to elicit a positive expression -of opinion from the cautious little man. - -"What is the mystery of the bounder cousin? You must admit he has cad -stamped all over him, his speech, his person, his gestures." - -Tommy could establish no defence for the gentleman in question. "No, he -is past criticism, I allow. The result of some _mésalliance_, I suppose; -his mother a very common person doubtless. But then, many highly -respectable people have skeletons like that in their cupboards." - -"The mystery is that he finds his way, cousin as he may be, into any -decent house. Mrs. L'Estrange we know to be a woman of good family. You -would think she would lock and bolt the door against a creature like -that. What is he supposed to be, if he has any profession beyond that of -his intense bounderism?" - -"Something in the City, I am told," replied Esmond shortly. "Something -connected with finance; stockbroker or something." - -"It must be a shady kind of finance, if he has anything to do with it," -growled the young man. "To think of his claiming relationship with that -exquisite girl." - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -|It would be idle to assume that a man of Guy Spencer's natural -advantages had reached the age of thirty without experiencing a few -affairs of the heart. But he had never been deeply touched, and -his friend Tommy Esmond was right when he described him as not very -susceptible to feminine influence. - -The one feeling which had lasted for some years, was a pronounced -affection for his cousin Nina. He felt as much at home with her as he -would have done with a favourite sister, had he possessed one. But the -regard had a warmth in it that is lacking in fraternal relations. - -He knew that Lady Nina was not indifferent to him, that she allowed him -to assume a certain air of proprietorship in the disposal of dances, in -the claim to her society when he was disposed to enjoy it. He knew also -that it was a match which would be warmly approved of by his invalid -uncle. - -Without being guilty of undue vanity, he felt pretty certain that if he -proposed he would be accepted. And once or twice he had been very near -to taking the decisive step. He never could quite understand what it was -that made him hesitate. - -The fact of his hesitation proved to himself, as well as to the young -lady concerned, that much as he might like his cousin, he was certainly -far from being deeply in love with her. - -She was a pretty, winsome girl, possessing an upright, straightforward -nature, and quite attractive in a simple, frank fashion. There was -nothing subtle or mysterious about her, you could read her like an open -book. She was a good daughter, she was the type of girl who could not -help making a good wife. - -Some day, no doubt, he would put the fateful question, and by her -acceptance be made, in conventional parlance, the happiest of men. But -although he would know he had chosen very wisely, and look forward to -a placid kind of happiness, he was doubtful if Nina's smiles and kisses -would ever thrill him, if with her he would ever learn the meaning of -real love. - -He was not by any means sure that he was capable of very strong -attachment. He had indulged in a few fancies, but they had only -exercised a very small portion of his thoughts. Up to the present, he -had certainly not experienced the wild ecstasies, the mingled joy and -pain of the true lover. - -For the first time in his life, he had been seriously perturbed by the -advent of Stella Keane. He had not fashioned in his imagination any -particular ideal, any special type of woman who would make to him an -irresistible appeal. But, if she had been Lady Nina, if he had met her -in his own world, he would have owned at once this was the girl for whom -he had been waiting. - -Her image pursued him persistently in his waking and his leisure hours. -He could recall every word she had spoken during the short time they -had spent together. He could see her a dozen times a day standing in the -"Excelsior" dining-room, paralysed with terror. - -He remembered the break in her voice, the mist in her beautiful eyes, -when she had thanked him. And ever and again, he longed to fathom the -mystery of her loneliness, the cause of that sadness that was always -lurking underneath. - -Was it wise to pursue the acquaintance, with the pretty certain result -of intensifying the interest he already felt in her? He had no liking -for Mrs. L'Estrange, a woman merely on the fringe of his world, or her -gambling circle. If he wanted to lose or win money, there were plenty of -other houses where he could indulge his fancy. - -And he knew nothing of Miss Keane's antecedents. The only thing he did -know was that she had a cousin who was obviously a bounder of the first -water. Tommy Esmond knew nothing about her either, or, if he did know, -would not tell. - -For three days he wavered, one moment eager to rush off to the flat, -the next determining that it would be better not to renew the brief -acquaintance. - -On the fourth day, his impulse conquered his prudence. He told himself -soothingly that his visit was due to curiosity, that he merely wanted to -penetrate the mystery of her loneliness, her unprotected position. - -The bounder cousin was coming out as he entered. Mr. Dutton nodded -affably to him with a greasy and familiar smile. Spencer acknowledged -him in the coolest fashion compatible with bare civility. Why were -there people, he wondered, whom you instinctively wanted to kick, for no -apparently sufficient reason? - -Miss Keane was alone. Mrs. L'Estrange, she explained, was in bed with -a racking headache. She had lost heavily the night before, and this was -the usual penalty she paid for losing. - -"Hardly worth the candle, is it?" he said lightly, as he took his cup of -tea from her. A slight frown crossed his brow as he observed the empty -cup of "the bounder" on the table. Did he come here often? was his -thought. Perhaps he was in love with her. But it was surely beyond the -limits of possibility that she could ever return the affection of such a -creature. - -He would see what he could get out of her. "I met your cousin as I came -in. I suppose he is a frequent visitor?" - -She did not look in the least conscious or embarrassed by the question. -"Oh yes, he comes very often. He is about the only one of my relatives -I have any acquaintance with. My father's mode of life estranged all the -others." - -Spencer thought it would have been a good thing if Mr. Dutton had been -as sensitive to the disqualifications of the late Mr. Keane as the rest -of her connections. But, of course, he could not say so. - -"He is not in the least like you." Then, after a pause, he added boldly, -and perhaps a little rudely: "I should never have dreamed you were -related." - -She quite understood what he meant, and there was a lurking humour in -her smile, as she answered: - -"Poor old George, he is a good sort, but quite a rough diamond. His -mother married a self-made man, of course, for his money. That may -account for a great deal you have noticed." - -Spencer had the grace to look confused. It was evident he had conveyed -his private impression of Mr. Dutton very distinctly to her clear young -vision. But she did not seem offended, only slightly amused, at the poor -figure cut by Cousin George in the estimation of a person in a superior -world. - -Anyway, that little mystery was explained. There was nothing unusual -in poor gentlewomen marrying self-made men, for the sake of money. The -noble family of Southleigh had many such _mésalliances_ amongst its -aristocratic records. - -But it was a relief to find Stella herself under no delusions concerning -the young man in question. He did not think it possible she could, but -as diplomatically as was possible, she admitted that Mr. Dutton was not -what is, technically called, a gentleman. - -"He is the only relative with whom I am on speaking terms," she added, -after a pause, "for reasons of which I have already given you a hint. -And I think I have grown rather to look forward to his visits." - -Her observant eyes noticed a quick stiffening in his manner. She could -guess his thoughts. How was it possible for a refined young woman to -ever look forward to the visits of a person like Mr. Dutton, cousin -though he might be? - -"You, of course, have heaps of relations; you can pick and choose," she -went on, as if eager to explain to his fastidious taste her toleration -of a man, so obviously the denizen of an inferior world. "You cannot, I -daresay, imagine the loneliness of a girl of my age, debarred, through -no fault of her own, from the society of her own kith and kin." Here -was an opportunity to engage her in personal talk. He had not hoped she -would take him into her confidence on his first visit. - -He leaned forward, and there was an eager note in his voice. "I formed -an idea of you in the first few moments of our acquaintance, that you -were not happy, that you were, in a sense, isolated, and that you had -known more of sorrow than joy in your short life." - -She mused a moment, and then answered him in grave tones: - -"You were quite right. I feel it is the impression I must convey to -either friend or stranger, an impression I shall always convey. For, if -a great and overwhelming happiness were to come to me to-morrow, I could -never forget the past years of sadness." - -"But, surely, you must have some happy memories? There were gleams of -brightness in your childhood?" - -"No," she said, and there was a fierce vehemence in her voice. "They -were the most miserable--an indifferent mother, a careless father, a -roof and a shelter, food and clothing sufficient, if not in abundance, -but no home, as it is understood by more fortunate children." - -"And when that home, or the wretched pretence of it, was broken up, -you were thrown upon the mercy of the world," he questioned, "with no -kindred, no friends to stretch out a helping hand?" - -"Our relatives had long before ceased to take any interest in the -daughter of a ruined gambler. I was thrown, in a certain sense, on the -mercy of the world. But for a small pittance, which my father could not -deprive me of, I should have starved, for he left nothing behind him but -debts." - -She was not, then, absolutely penniless. Something had been saved from -the wreck. He wondered if Esmond knew this. And yet, if she told a -comparative stranger this at their first real interview, she must have -told him, who seemed to be on the footing of a friend of the house. - -"I had no real friends," she went on; "but in the course of a wandering -life--when my father owed too much in one place he removed to another--I -had picked up a few acquaintances. With these I made a home, on and off, -for longer or shorter periods." - -"And you have come to anchor here with Mrs. L'Estrange, who is your -cousin, one of the few relatives who did not visit the sins of the -fathers on the children." - -Her voice was a little scornful. "The cousinship is a very distant one. -And, as she is an inveterate gambler herself, but more lucky than my -father, she could hardly look upon gambling in another as a deadly sin." -He nodded his head in agreement. He did not want to talk himself, -for fear he should interrupt the flow of her reminiscences; she was -evidently in a confidential mood this afternoon. - -"I saw her a few times when quite a child, and then she vanished like -the others. A couple of years ago, we met in Devonshire at the house of -a mutual acquaintance. She seemed to take a fancy to me. In the end, she -proposed that I should, for the present, make my home with her. She has -only one interest in life, _play_. She is a very lazy woman. She hates -writing the briefest note, and housekeeping is abhorrent to her. I -attend to her correspondence, I order the dinner and look after the -servants. I am not exactly eating the bread of charity," she concluded -with a little mirthless laugh, "because I give some work in exchange for -my food. My own little pittance provides me with clothes." - -He wondered what the little pittance represented in annual hard cash. -She was dressed quietly but in good taste, and he was judge enough of -woman's apparel to know that the material of her dress was expensive. On -her slender fingers glittered a few valuable rings, heirlooms probably -saved from the clutches of the gambling father. She did not convey the -impression of poverty, but perhaps she was clever, and knew how to make -the best of a small income. - -There was a long silence, and it almost seemed as if she had forgotten -his presence. For she sat with a musing look in her beautiful eyes, -her thoughts evidently in the past, conjuring up Heaven knows how many -painful memories. - -Then she came back to herself, and turned to him with an apologetic -smile. "I am afraid I have bored you to tears with my stupid personal -history, but I will finish by telling you one little thing that may -amuse you." - -He protested, of course, that he had not been in the least bored, only -too painfully interested. - -"Well, I am not a person easily crushed, and although a physical coward -and frightened of raids and thunderstorms, I am not a moral one. When -I began to review my position, I tried to hit upon some way of making -money." - -Was she fond of money, he wondered? Well, perhaps, like most women, she -wanted money to buy herself pretty things. There was nothing unusual in -that. - -"When I was a schoolgirl, I was supposed to show some artistic talent; I -got several prizes. So I set to work and painted some half-a-dozen small -things, in what I conceived to be a popular style, and took them -round to as many dealers. In a week my hopes were shattered. One -straightforward creature told me frankly that they just attained the -school-girl level of excellence, but that I should never become an -artist. It was not in me." - -"A crushing blow, indeed," said Spencer sympathetically. - -"I then turned to writing. Here, at any rate, was a profession that -required no previous painful training, only powers of observation, some -imagination, and a certain fluency of expression. I wrote some short -stories which I thought good, which I still think good. History repeated -itself. I sent them to a dozen editors, one after another. In every -case, they were declined with thanks." - -"I daresay they were quite good, and they were not taken because you -didn't happen to be in the ring," was Spencer's consoling comment. - -"Well," she exclaimed brightly, "there is an end of my reminiscences for -to-day. Let us talk of anything and everything else. Have you seen Mr. -Esmond lately? He has not been near us since the night he came with -you." - -Shortly afterwards he took his leave, he had stayed unconsciously long -as it was. - -"I shall come again soon, if I may, to listen to some more -reminiscences," he said, as he shook hands. And she had given him -permission, with the brightest of smiles. - -He had not learned half as much as he wanted, but he had gathered -something. The bounder cousin was the son of a self-made man, a -_parvenu_. And Stella Keane was not absolutely penniless, she had enough -money to buy herself clothes. Did Tommy Esmond know as much as this? And -if he did, why had he not said so? - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -|Although unsuspicious by nature, Guy Spencer had mixed much in the -world and seen a good deal of life. Attracted as he was by the charming -Stella, there was a something about the atmosphere of that flat in -Elsinore Gardens which created an unfavourable impression. - -Of Mrs. L'Estrange's antecedents there was no question. She was a woman -of good family, she could produce chapter and verse for her ancestors. -And yet, why was she not in a better environment? - -Clearly, she was on the downward slope. But was there anything -remarkable in that? Heaps of members of aristocratic families were -in the same sort of predicament, from various causes, through certain -circumstances. - -Had he not received a letter a few days ago from the daughter of a -well-known earl, imploring him for a loan of ten pounds, for the sake of -old friendship? - -The writer was some twenty years his senior, and she had tipped him when -he was at Eton. She now dated her letter from a suburb in the extreme -west of Kensington. If she, with all her advantages of birth and -connection, had fallen by the wayside, why not a comparatively obscure -person like Mrs. L'Estrange? - -It was very easy to see it. Mrs. L'Estrange was of a Bohemian -temperament, and probably a great spendthrift. She had made considerable -inroads into whatever fortune she originally possessed, and had -developed into an adept card-player, with a view to supplementing the -little income that was left to her. - -And Stella Keane, that beautiful, sad girl, with the tragic history of -worthless parents behind her, was the victim of fate. She was not happy -in her cousin's home, amidst this gambling, card-playing set. She, at -least, was pure, whoever else might be defiled. On that he would stake -his existence. - -For a few days he thought a great deal about the subject, and during -those few days he kept away from Elsinore Gardens and denied himself -the pleasure of listening to a further instalment of Miss Keane's -reminiscences of her unhappy history. - -If he were going to fall in love, he told himself sternly, he would -fall in love with a woman of his own world, not with a girl, however -beautiful and interesting she might be, who was only a hanger-on of a -woman well-born, but evidently _déclassée_, a woman no longer moving in -the sphere to which she had been accustomed. In these reflections, he -showed sound sense. - -But for a certain event that happened in the course of the next few -days, he might have adhered to his good resolutions and have finally -dismissed Miss Keane from his serious thoughts. And, in that case, this -story would not have been written. - -And then the event happened. Returning home to his rooms one night, -about twelve o'clock, his man told him that Mr. Esmond was waiting for -him in the sitting-room. - -He found the little rotund man sitting in an easy-chair, white-faced, -the marks of agitation written all over his countenance. - -Wondering at this unusual spectacle--Tommy was frequently fussy, but -always self-contained--Spencer advanced, and held out his hand. - -"What's up, Tommy? You're a late visitor, but always welcome." He -pointed to the decanters standing on the sideboard. "I hope you have -helped yourself?" - -To Spencer's great surprise, the little man did not take the proffered -hand. He spoke in a hoarse, choking voice, his lips twitching. - -"I've helped myself once too often, Spencer. And I can't take the hand -of an honest man, for reasons. You've got it at once." - -Spencer had average brains, but he was not very quick to realise the -meaning of unexpected situations. At first, he thought the little man -had been drinking. - -"Sit down, Tommy, and get it off your chest. What in the name of wonder -is the matter?" he said kindly. He was rather fond of Tommy in a casual -sort of way. - -Esmond did not sit down at once, but went over to the sideboard, and -mixed himself a stiff tumbler of whisky-and-soda. He gulped it down at a -draught, and then took an armchair. - -"You won't begrudge me that, I know," he said, speaking in the same -strained, hoarse voice. "It's the last drink I'll have in your rooms, -the last drink in any house in England, I should say. I'm done for, old -man, tomorrow I clear out, eat my heart away in some beastly foreign -hole." - -No, Spencer's first surmise had been incorrect. The man was not drunk, -not even elevated. His face was chalk-white, and he was trembling all -over as if he had been stricken with palsy. But he was perfectly sober. - -Spencer took a chair himself, and spoke a little sternly. "Pull yourself -together, old man, and speak out. At first I thought you had had a -drop too much. But I see that's not the case. Out with it. You've been -waiting some time, my man informs me. You want to tell me something. -Tell it." - -Tommy Esmond moistened his dry lips with his tongue, and spoke. - -"I don't quite know what instinct prompted me to come to you. We haven't -known each other so very intimately, after all, but I always felt you -were a bit more of a Christian than the other chaps I have known, less -of a Pharisee--that you would be more likely to find excuses for a poor -devil who had yielded to temptation." - -"Do get on," said Spencer a little impatiently. He did not at all like -the turn the conversation was taking. - -Tommy spoke brokenly, he could not put his words together very -coherently, it appeared. But his halting utterance was simply due to -emotion. - -"I was at Elsinore Gardens to-night, playing cards. You know Elsinore -Gardens, Mrs. L'Estrange's flat?" - -He was quite sober, but his agitation made him wander a bit, or he would -not have put the question. - -"Of course I know Mrs. L'Estrange's flat. It was you who took me there," -said Spencer. - -"Yes, we went there on the night of the raid, but I was not playing at -your table. I remember you lost, and I won. Well, somebody has to lose, -and somebody else has to win." - -Spencer made no comment on this obvious truism. Tommy Esmond again -moistened his dry lips with his tongue. He was a long time in coming to -the point, but he came to it at last. - -"Well, old man, I was playing with an old pal of mine, with whom I have -been in business for years. We had a nice code of signals arranged. I -was as cautious as I could be, but my partner had been dining out, and -he was a bit indiscreet. There were three or four men watching us, they -caught us both, although, as I tell you, I was cautious. But I made one -slip, and they were down on me like a knife. You don't know my partner. -It is the end of him. But it is the end of Tommy Esmond also." - -To say that Spencer was disgusted would be to convey a faint idea of his -feelings. And yet, as he looked at the huddled, trembling form in the -chair, his sentiment was rather one of compassion than loathing. -what was there behind? what tragedy of circumstance had driven this -apparently lighthearted, butterfly little creature to such crooked ways? - -"You're an old hand, then? It's not the first time you've cheated?" - -Tommy Esmond smiled wanly. He did not answer the question at once. - -"What age do you guess me, Spencer?" - -"At a casual glance, a little over fifty. You may be older. Looking at -you closely, you do seem a bit made up, dye and all that sort of thing." - -"My dear sir, I am old enough to be your father. I shall never see sixty -again." - -"And when did you take to this game?" Esmond thought a little before he -replied, he was evidently counting the years. - -"When I was twenty-two I got an _entrée_ into society. I was then -enjoying an income of two pounds a week, I was a clerk in an insurance -office. At twenty-four I left the insurance business and started -cheating for a living." - -Spencer uttered a horrified ejaculation. He had never come across -anything quite like this, at any rate, in actual experience. - -"Would you like to know something of my history, or would you like to -kick me out at once, and have done with it?" asked Esmond quietly. - -But there were still some remnants of compassion in Spencer. And he was -also a little curious. He was dealing, after all, with a human document. -Tommy's revelations would add to his experience of life. - -"Tell me all you would like to say," he said. - -"It will be a relief to unbosom myself, after the years I have led this -life," was Esmond's answer. "When I left Elsinore Gardens with my life -in ruins, I felt I could have shrieked it all out to the policeman -standing at the corner. I came on here, because I thought you would -listen to me, because I felt sure you were not a Pharisee." - -Spencer motioned him to the sideboard. "Mix yourself another stiff peg, -and steady your nerves. Then tell me as much as you like." - -Esmond went over and helped himself. After a few seconds the ague-like -trembling ceased, and he was able to speak in a fairly steady voice. - -"My father was a solicitor in a small way of business in an obscure town -in the west of England. There were three children--an elder brother, -myself, and a sister. My elder brother succeeded to the practice and is -still in the same place, making both ends meet on a microscopic income. -My sister is dead. - -"My father was a God-fearing, deeply religious man, and did more -than his duty by his family. He scraped and pinched to give us a good -education, that being the only capital he could leave us. I was placed -in an insurance office, the head of which was a distant connection of my -mother's. - -"If I had chosen to be content with my lot I daresay in time I might -have done fairly well, as I had more than average abilities, and gave -complete satisfaction in the performance of my duties. - -"Unfortunately, I ran across, by the purest accident, a young man some -couple of years my senior. His father, a man of very good family, had -died a short time previously and left him a very decent income of about -two thousand a year. He had been at a private school with me when we -were boys. - -"This young man took a violent fancy to me, I was slim and not bad -looking in those days. He had the _entrée_ to some of the best houses -in London through his aristocratic connections. He took me with him -everywhere, as his bosom friend. I had certain social instincts, derived -from Heaven knows where, and I soon found my feet. In twelve months I -was able to run alone, sometimes I was able to get into houses where -even he could not gain a footing. He laughingly declared that I had -beaten him in the social race, but he was a good-natured fellow, without -a particle of envy or meanness in his nature, and he was rather proud -than otherwise that the pupil had outstripped the master." - -He paused for a moment. It was evident, that having kept silence for so -many years, it was an enormous relief to unbosom himself. - -In spite of his disgust, Spencer could not but feel interested in this -bit of life-history. He had often felt curious as to Tommy Esmond's -past, and now that curiosity was going to be satisfied. He understood -now why the little man had never made any but the most distant allusions -to his home or his relatives. - -"The life suited me down to the ground, but there was always the -terrible problem of ways and means, good clothes, travelling, expensive -flowers, etc., etc. I had got to three pounds a week, but that doesn't -go far in the circles to which I had been transplanted. It began to dawn -upon me that, delightful as the life was, I was playing the fool, and -neglecting the substance for the shadow. People asked me to their big -parties, often to their dinners and to week-ends, but there was no -money in it. In fact, I was getting out of my depth. I had already been -obliged to borrow small sums from money-lenders to cover my expenses. - -"Bitterly I made up my mind that sooner or later I must cut it, and take -life seriously, like the poor man I was. I belonged to a good club -where I had all my letters addressed. I lodged in a little street in -Bloomsbury, in cheap apartments. My friend alone knew this address. - -"He would have helped me to a considerable extent, but, strange to say, -considering what I did afterwards, I shrank from accepting actual cash -from him." - -Spencer interrupted him for a second. "You would not sponge upon your -friend, instead you took to cheating your acquaintance. I take it that -is what you are going to tell me." - -Esmond nodded. "Quite right. I had made up my mind to cut it, and -disappear from a world in which I had no right to intrude. I had even -made up my mind as to the exact date at the close of the season when -I would disappear, and return to the humdrum life from which my friend -roused me. - -"A few days before that date, something very strange happened; my life -has always been full of surprises. A few weeks before the fixed date, -I had made the acquaintance of a young nobleman, a member of one of the -best-known families in England. He was then about thirty, very handsome, -very popular with both men and women. He is dead now, but, of course, I -shall not mention his name, which would startle you if you heard it. - -"As I have said, his family was a very distinguished one, but poor for -its position. My friend, whom for the sake of convenience I will call -Lord Frederick, lived in good style, never seemed short of cash, and -paid his debts promptly. Those who knew were sure that he got little or -no help from his family, yet he betted at race-meetings, played cards -nearly every night, and lived generally the life of a man with a fair -income. - -"His own explanation was, that he had some intimate friends on the Stock -Exchange who put him on to any good thing going. In the course of the -year, according to his own account, he made a considerable sum out of -racing. - -"Lord Frederick, like my first friend, took considerable notice of me -after we had become acquainted. Several times he invited me to his club. -Afterwards he told me that he had a premonition I should be useful to -him. - -"I shall never forget that night when the deadly temptation came to me, -when I learned what manner of rascal he was. It was the close of the -season. In a very few days more I should have looked my last on this gay -and alluring existence, should have ceased to lead this double life of a -poor clerk by day, a young man of fashion by night." - -Spencer suddenly interrupted. "But was there not a great risk of -detection? were you never recognised in the City by some chance west End -acquaintance." - -"Up to then, no. Of course, I must have been found out in time, if -only from the suspicious circumstance that I could never accept any day -invitations. This was one of the reasons that weighed most strongly with -me in the resolve to give it up. I could not bear the thought that -the Tommy Esmond who bore himself so bravely in his new world, who -had managed to outlive all curiosity as to his antecedents, should -be discovered in his true colours, a poor City drudge in an insurance -office. - -"To return to my story. I had dined with Lord Frederick at the---- No, I -will not give the name of the club, one of the most exclusive in London: -it might put you on his track. He had ordered a choice dinner, and he -plied me liberally with wine. My heart was very full at the prospect of -having to say good-bye to this luxurious life, in a very few days' time. - -"After dinner we went into the smoking-room, which was nearly empty, -as most of the members had left London. There were only two other -occupants, and they were at the far end of the apartment. Practically, -we had the place to ourselves. - -"He urged me strongly to take a trip over to Paris as his guest. I -should have loved to go, but the wrench had to be made some time, it -might as well be made now. Besides, I was heavily in debt, for a poor -man, and I had not the cash to purchase the necessary outfit for such a -trip. - -"He would not accept my first refusal, but tried to persuade me into -reconsidering. When I still persisted, he bluntly asked me my reasons. - -"As I have said, I was very depressed that night at the prospect of all -I was saying goodbye to. This mood was responsible for my blurting out a -great portion of the absolute truth. - -"I explained to him that I had already accepted too much of his -hospitality, which my circumstances did not enable me to return, that I -could no longer take advantage of his generosity. - -"After this avowal, he did not speak for some little time, all the while -regarding me with an intense gaze that embarrassed me very much. - -"'Thanks for telling me the truth,' he said at length. 'Your confidence -is quite safe with me.' He added after a pause, 'So you are a poor man, -in spite of the fact that your appearance does not suggest the fact. -well, I may tell you that from the first moment I made your acquaintance -I was pretty certain you were.' - -"I told him a little more. 'I am so poor,' I said frankly, 'that I -cannot afford to keep up appearances any longer. In a few days I shall -leave a world I ought never to have entered. Anyway, it is the last time -I shall dine with you, and I don't suppose we shall ever meet again, -unless we run across each other by chance in a very different sphere.'" - -"'You have absolutely made up your mind to do this, for the reasons you -have given?' he asked presently. - -"'Absolutely,' I replied. 'I may say it is Hobson's choice. I am heavily -in debt. If I cut my wants down to next to nothing, it will take me a -year to pay off what I owe.' I laughed bitterly--'Unless I turned thief, -I could not possibly go on.' - -"'I don't want to force your confidence,' was Lord Frederick's next -remark. 'But having had a taste of this rather glittering world, I -presume you will leave it with considerable regret.' - -"'I dare not say what I feel,' I said with conviction. 'It seems to me -that in the old life to which I am returning I shall suffer the tortures -of lost souls.' - -"Then he shot at me an extraordinary question. 'I wonder whether you -would care to become a partner in my business?' - -"My heart suddenly grew light. Was there a chance that I could still -keep on, that through his assistance I could find a decently paid -occupation? After all, I only wanted a few hundreds a year more. A -bachelor can live in the best society on comparatively little, but he -must have that little, and the insurance office did not furnish it. - -"'If I were competent enough,' I faltered. - -"He smiled; I thought there was a little touch of a sneer in that smile. -'Oh, I think you would be competent enough. But I am not at all sure -that you would like the business sufficiently.' - -"'I can't say positively, of course, till I know the nature of it. But -I don't think I should be very difficult to please, nor do I want any -extravagant remuneration, just enough to keep up a decent appearance.' - -"'The share would be half, neither more nor less,' he said curtly; then -he relapsed into a long silence, as if he were thinking very hard. - -"When he spoke it was in a low, strained voice. 'Look here, Esmond, I -don't know very much of you. But I believe you to be a gentleman. The -business I am engaged in is a very peculiar one, and it is more than -probable it will not appeal to you. If you refuse, you are to give -me your word of honour that this conversation between us shall be -forgotten.' - -"I gave him more than my word, I added my solemn oath that I would never -divulge a syllable. - -"I had for some little time felt that there was a mystery about him. -I hazarded to myself that he was perhaps engaged in some spying work -repugnant to any man of fine susceptibilities but quite remunerative. - -"I was startled, and to an extent horrified, by what he told me. He -was a professional card-sharper, made his living by robbing his rich -acquaintances. He had been at the game since he was twenty-five. - -"'I do pretty well, as you can guess, by the way in which I live,' he -remarked at the conclusion of his strange confession. 'But with a smart -confederate, and I am sure you would prove one, I could quadruple my -gains. One is hampered by working alone. It's a scoundrel's business, of -course. But I can always persuade myself I am not really doing very much -harm, certainly not as much as the swindling sort of company-promoter. -I win money from rich fools, rob them, if you like; it does at least as -much good in my pockets as theirs.' - -"I suppose there was already some moral kink in me waiting to blossom -forth under proper encouragement. For though I was very much startled, I -cannot say that I was profoundly shocked, as I might have been by a less -subtle form of robbery. - -"I did not accept or refuse that night, I wanted to think. I knew it -was the turning of the ways. On the one hand well-paid roguery, with the -accompanying delights of the fashionable world, on the other the deadly, -drab life of the poor City drudge. In the morning my mind was made up. I -went into partnership with my new friend." - -"And you made a fortune, I suppose?" asked Spencer, in a very cold -voice. - -Esmond shook his head, and Spencer was not at all sure that the next -words were truthful ones. - -"No, a comfortable living, nothing more. We made a good deal, but we had -to lose a good deal, too, in order to avert suspicion." - -"Your friend is dead, you say. So you went on with it after his death?" - -"Yes, for a little time alone. Then I, too, got in a partner, the man -who was with me to-night." - -There was a long silence between the two men. Spencer broke it first. - -"And what are your plans?" he asked. - -"I shall sneak out of the country to-morrow morning and make my way to -France. I shall hide myself in some little out-of-the-way village under -an assumed name, and rust out." The little man rose and looked at his -former friend with an embarrassed air. "Well, thanks for having listened -to me so patiently. It has been a tremendous relief to me to pour it all -out." - -He did not offer his hand, for he felt certain it would not be taken. -Spencer stopped him as he was at the door. - -"You have money, I suppose, something put by out of your--your -winnings?" - -Esmond's voice was hesitating. Again it was very doubtful if he was -speaking the truth. "Hardly a _sou_ out of them. It was lightly come, -lightly go, all the time. But my father left me a little bit which will -keep me going in a cheap place." - -Spencer did not believe him. The probability was he had put away safely -a snug little nest-egg, in view of the detection which might come at any -moment of such a hazardous occupation. - -"One word before you go," said the young man finally. "Is there much -cheating going on at Elsinore Gardens?" - -Esmond turned and looked the speaker straight in the face. This time -he certainly seemed to be speaking the truth, but he might be a most -accomplished liar. - -"None at all, except when I and my partner were there. If there had -been, I should have spotted it. I'm awfully sorry for Mrs. L'Estrange, -for it having happened at her house, for I daresay people will hint -nasty things." - -"She didn't suspect anything, then?" - -"Not a bit," replied Esmond. "We didn't play there more than about twice -a week, and we never went in for high stakes. And, of course, we had to -lose pretty often, to make things look square." - -"And Miss Keane suspected nothing either." As he remembered the girl's -beautiful face, and sad history, Spencer felt almost ashamed of himself -for putting the question. - -"Bless your soul, no, a thousand times no." The little rogue seemed to -speak with unusual warmth. "Why, she loathes cards, she never can be got -to join in. She has suffered too much from gambling." - -He went out of the room slowly and into the night. Spencer half pitied -the poor devil who had made such a hash of his life through his desire -to step out of his own class. He sat down and ruminated a long time over -the strange history which had been unfolded to him. - -The next morning, the fugitive, Tommy Esmond, caught the morning train -from Charing Cross. He looked very sad and woebegone, a pitiable figure, -friendless and alone. - -But not quite friendless. A young woman closely-veiled and dressed very -plainly rose up from one of the seats as he came on the platform, and -touched him lightly on the arm. He recognised her, and glanced round -anxiously. - -"It was very dear and sweet of you to come, Stella, but very imprudent. -You might be seen by half a dozen people." - -"I know," answered Miss Keane, for the closely-veiled woman was she. "I -got your letter this morning and could not bear you should go without a -last good-bye. Well, I can see you are anxious. I will say it, and get -back." - -She lifted the veil for a second, and held up her face. The little man -kissed her hastily, and then made for his train. - -It was evident he had one friend left in the London he was flying from -as a fugitive and outlaw, one woman who pitied him. - -And, at the same time that Stella was walking swiftly from the station, -Guy Spencer was making up his mind that he would pay a visit to Elsinore -Gardens in the afternoon, to see how the land lay there. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -|About five o'clock on the afternoon of the day following Esmond's -confession, Guy Spencer rang the bell at Mrs. L'Estrange's flat in -Elsinore Gardens. - -The decorous-looking butler opened the door. He seemed to wear a sad -and chastened demeanour, as if overborne with the tragic events of the -previous night. Of course, all servants know what is going on in the -house of their employers. A scandal such as this must have quickly -penetrated to them. - -"Is Mrs. L'Estrange at home?" - -The sad-faced butler answered at once; he could tell a lie with as much -grace as anybody, but here there was no need to lie. - -"Mrs. L'Estrange is at home, sir, in a manner of speaking, but she -is very ill, as a matter of fact in bed. Of course she cannot see any -visitors." - -"Oh, I quite understand," said Spencer hastily. "Is Miss Keane in? If -so, I would like to see her for a few moments." - -The melancholy man in black opened the door a few inches. "Miss Keane is -in, sir, but I am afraid she is not very well, either. Will you kindly -step in, sir, and I will find out if she can see you?" - -It was evident that Tommy Esmond and his equally nefarious partner had -cast a gloom over the whole establishment. Spencer was ushered into the -pretty drawing-room. In a few moments, Stella Keane came in. She was -evidently under the stress of great emotion. There were dark shadows -round the eyes, as if she had passed a sleepless night. Even her perfect -mouth had a listless droop. - -But, in spite of her pallor, the dark shadows round her eyes, and that -pathetic droop, she was still very beautiful. Pathos became her. Guy -Spencer's heart gave a great leap as he saw her. There was about her an -overpowering, an irresistible fascination. - -She advanced towards him with outstretched hands. She spoke in a broken -voice, the perfectly moulded lips trembled: - -"It is so sweet of you to come. Of course you have heard? It is all over -the town by now. Oh, this thrice-accursed gambling, the love of which -induces decent men to cheat, and become outcasts from their world." - -She spoke with the deepest emotion, her bosom heaving, her voice broken -by the catchings of the breath. - -"He was such a good little man, he was always so kind to me," she went -on. "And last night those awful happenings. Branded a cheat, he and his -friend, and they could not deny it. They had to slink out. I have -hardly closed my eyes during the night, Mr. Spencer; my poor cousin is -prostrated." She added with a shudder: "My girlhood was passed amidst a -gambling set, but I never had an experience like this." - -She collected herself, and rang for tea. "You will sit down," she said. -"You can understand I should have denied myself to anybody but you, I am -so terribly upset. It is still like a nightmare." - -Spencer sat down as he was bidden. "I had a visit from Esmond last -night," he said briefly. "He came straight on from Elsinore Gardens. He -told me what had happened, he told me the whole history of the terrible -thing, how he has been making his living by cheating at cards, since he -was a young man." Miss Keane raised her hands in mute deprecation. "How -awful! That, of course, I did not know. I had a letter from him this -morning, apologising, if one can apologise for such a thing, telling me -he was going to live abroad under an assumed name. It was a very short -letter. His chief concern seemed to be that he had, incidentally, made -it unpleasant for Mrs. L'Estrange." - -"How does Mrs. L'Estrange take it?" - -Miss Keane shrugged her shoulders. "She is a little bit hysterical, you -know. One moment, she vows she will shut up the flat and go abroad, for -fear of the nasty things that people will say. The next moment, she says -that, confident in her perfect innocence, she will stay and face the -music, and give her parties as usual." - -"Has she asked your advice?" queried Spencer. - -"She has, and my advice is to go on as usual. It is not her fault that -blacklegs have crept into her circle. They creep into the best houses, -the best clubs. So long as this curséd gambling goes on, there will be -sharpers." - -"That's true," remarked Spencer, remembering a few episodes that had -occurred in his time. "And, I suppose, you will still cast in your lot -with her?" - -The look on the beautiful face grew more pathetic than ever. - -"What can I do, Mr. Spencer? I have told you my position. I wish -my cousin were a different woman altogether, I wish she were not so -infatuated with this horrible gambling. But I cannot influence her. She -is too old and set to turn over a new leaf." - -Every moment the girl's fascination took a deeper hold of him. She -was so very beautiful, so very seductive. But he still kept himself in -check. - -"Tell me what actually happened last night. How were Esmond and his -partner found out?" - -There was a little interruption by the solemn-faced butler who brought -in tea. Miss Keane busied herself amongst the cups before she replied. - -"It is, as I told you, all a nightmare to me. I was wandering aimlessly -about; as I have told you before, I never play, I loathe cards too much. -Suddenly there was a scene at the table where Mr. Esmond and his partner -were playing. Three men were standing watching the game, they had come -here often, I knew their names." - -"They were friends of Mrs. L'Estrange?" queried Spencer. - -Just a faint shade of hesitation crept into the low voice. - -"Oh yes, friends of my cousin." - -"Straight sort of chaps, of course." - -"I have no doubt of that. They accused Mr. Esmond and his partner, -Major Golightly, of cheating. Of course the charge was denied, but -very half-heartedly. These three men were backed by others who had seen -something suspicious. It seems Mr. Esmond and his partner had aroused -suspicion before. Finally they confessed, and slunk out of the house." - -She paused a moment, and then laid her hand impulsively on his arm. - -"That first night you came to our house, you lost. Did you play at the -same table with Tommy Esmond? I forget." - -The answer came straight. "No, I lost something, what was it?--something -about a hundred and fifty. But Tommy Esmond did not rook me that time, -he was playing at another table. I remember he was very cock-a-hoop, -he was winning hand over fist. I say, I know I am putting a very -impertinent question, but were Tommy Esmond and his partner, this -Major Golightly, the only sharpers who came to this flat? Did I lose my -hundred and fifty, or whatever it was, quite honestly?" - -Miss Keane covered her face with her hands for a few seconds, and when -she took them away, he could see that tears were slowly trickling down -her cheeks. - -"Heaven knows, Mr. Spencer, I don't. My cousin is a strange woman. She -is fond of gaiety, of excitement. She asks people about whom she knows -nothing to her flat, I think," she added with an hysterical laugh; "she -fancies she is making herself a queen of Society. If she can get her -rooms full that is all she wants. When she does that, she fancies -herself the Duchess." - -"I think I understand," said Spencer gravely. "And I take it you would -give heaven and earth to get out of this environment?" - -"If you only knew how I loathe it," she cried, in a fervent tone. -"Sometimes I think I would rather run away and be a shopgirl or a -waitress, to get rid of this horrible atmosphere." - -Guy Spencer was very perturbed. He rose and walked up and down the -room--it was his habit to walk about, even in confined spaces, when he -was in an emotional mood. - -At length he turned, and faced her squarely. "Look here, Miss Keane. -It's rather nonsense talking about being a waitress or a shop-girl. You -told me you had a small income saved from the wreck. How much is it? -I am asking in no spirit of impertinent curiosity. I have a reason for -asking." - -She hesitated for a moment before she replied: "Something like a -hundred a year--paid to me quarterly by my cousin, Mr. Dutton, who is my -trustee." - -"Then you are not exactly a pauper. Shopgirls and waitresses don't earn -that." - -"But it would help," said Miss Keane, in a stifled voice. "A hundred a -year does not go far; with clothes and everything." - -He longed to take her in his arms there and then and ask her to be his -wife, so far was he subjugated by her subtle fascination. But certain -things occurred to him. He thought of his old ancestry, his uncle whose -heir he would be, even a faint idea of his cousin Nina flashed through -his mind. What would his relatives say to a marriage like that, the -marriage with a girl, however beautiful, picked up in a flat, owned by a -woman of good family but doubtful reputation? - -But he could not afford to lose her. He was rich, he could indulge any -passing whim. Out of his new-born ideas he spoke. - -"Miss Keane, I am very interested in you. Will you agree to look upon me -as a friend?" - -She looked up at him from under downcast eyes. - -"Mr. Spencer, somehow I have always looked upon you as a friend, as -something different from the ordinary man I meet in a place like this." - -"You want to get out of this atmosphere, away from your card-playing -cousin, who cannot keep her parties free from disgraceful scandals." - -"I have told you how fervently I long to say good-bye to it all." - -Spencer had made up his mind as to what he was going to do. It was -quixotic, but then he was a quixotic person. And, anyway, he was marking -time. He would ask her to marry him in the end, but, at the moment, he -did not clearly see his way to do so. - -"Suppose a woman friend offered to lend you five hundred pounds, to -enable you to get clear of this stifling atmosphere, what would you say? -You could go and live where you like and look around." - -"If a woman friend asked me that I think I should say, yes." - -"You have agreed that I am your friend, true, a man friend," said Guy. -"Suppose I made you the same offer, what is your answer?" - -"From a man friend I fear my answer must be an unhesitating 'no,' even -to you." - -He admired her answer. He could gather from it that she respected -herself too much to snatch at any offer that came along. - -But he would play with her still. "Why?" he asked. - -The beautiful eyes, still a little clouded with her tears, met his -unfalteringly. - -"You know as well as I do," was her answer. "I am poor, Mr. Spencer, but -I am very proud." - -He sat down beside her, and took her hand in his. - -"I admire you for that answer, Stella. I may call you Stella, may I not? -But I am not quite the ordinary type of man. I am going to speak quite -plainly to you. If you accept that five hundred pounds, I am not going -to ask you for any return. I want you to understand that." - -She shot at him a swift glance from under the downcast eyes. - -"You are a man out of a thousand, nay, out of ten thousand," she said, -and in her voice there was a note of great appreciation. If Stella Keane -ever felt a good impulse in her life, it was towards this man who was -doing his best to befriend her. - -"Listen to me," said Spencer persuasively, her delicate hand still lying -in his. "I don't know that I have done much good to other people in my -life, but I do want to help you. I should like to get you out of -this beastly hole. My proposal is, that I shall take for you a little -furnished flat and supplement your income, or give you the five hundred -pounds down, to do what you like with. It is for you to choose." - -"You would do this for me?" said Stella softly. "You must really like -me, then! Men don't do this sort of thing for women unless they like -them." - -"I like you very much, Stella, and I want to help you." - -He knew that he could take her in his arms and kiss her at his will. But -he forebore. He was not going to spoil this somewhat idyllic wooing. - -"It cannot take place for a week or so," she said presently. "I cannot -quite leave my cousin in the lurch. I must give her some sort of notice. -Of course, I can make the excuse that the events of last night have -completely shattered my nerve." - -"I don't wonder," was Spencer's comment. "Now, about this little matter -we have been speaking of. I think it would be better if I paid this -money into your bank, and left you to make your own arrangements. I -suppose you have a bank?" - -Yes, Miss Keane had a banking-account, a very small one. She smilingly -remarked that it would give the manager a shock when such a large sum -was paid into it. - -"I will draw the money in cash to-morrow and bring it to you," said -Spencer. "Then nobody will be able to guess from whom it comes." - -He rose, he could not trust himself to stay very much longer. At any -moment his reserve might break down. He might be impelled to change the -rôle of the benevolent friend into that of the ardent lover. - -And for a long time after he had left, Stella Keane sat absorbed in the -most serious thoughts. - -There was no doubt he was ardently in love with her. But he was not yet -quite prepared to screw up his courage to the sticking place. - -It was easy to understand. The obligations he owed his family were -weighing on his mind. - -The woman he made his wife would one day be the Countess of Southleigh. -He had to think of all this. And all he knew about her was learned from -her own statement, and she had a cousin who was, from his point of view, -certainly not a gentleman. - -Above all things, Stella Keane was a very business-like young woman, and -never shrank from looking facts squarely in the face. She must play -a waiting game. Guy Spencer was very deeply in love, but he was not a -hotheaded, impetuous boy, the sort of amorous youth who runs off with a -chorus girl, regardless of consequences. Lovers of this kind were very -rarely met with. - -If Guy Spencer did marry her, and she could not at the moment be sure -he would, he would be fully conscious of the disadvantages to himself -entailed by such a marriage. Would her fascination be strong enough to -conquer his better judgment? - -At any rate, for the present he was prepared to advance her five hundred -pounds, and ask nothing but her friendship in return. It was an offer -that she would have been a fool to refuse. - -Presently she rose and went up to Mrs. L'Estrange's bedroom. That sorely -perturbed lady had risen, flung on a dressing-gown, and was reclining on -a sofa. - -"I can't sleep, I only fidget and fidget about," was the explanation. -"So I thought I might as well get up." - -"Very wise," said Stella calmly. "You're a little bit too hysterical, -you know. You should keep your nerves in order as I do mine." - -"Not always," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "They go to pieces in -thunderstorms and air raids, don't they?" - -"The exception proves the rule, my dear lady. Well, I haven't come up -here to indulge in a sparring match. I have some very great news for -you. Mr. Spencer called this afternoon; he hasn't left me very long." - -The elder woman became interested at once. "You don't mean to say he has -asked you to marry him?" - -Stella laughed. "No, he hasn't, although it will not be my fault if he -doesn't later on. It seems Tommy Esmond called on him last night, and -made a clean breast of his whole history." - -Mrs. L'Estrange frowned. "Then I think he was a great fool. Everybody, -of course, will know what actually happened, that he was discovered -cheating. But he need not go and tell him more than he would learn from -general rumour.'" - -Stella's face hardened a little. "You must make some allowances for him. -He must have been in a terrible state of tension when he felt that his -career was ended. He was so very proud, you know, of the position in -society that he had won for himself. He must have felt like a man on the -eve of execution. He was hardly responsible for his thoughts or actions. -He is very highly-strung." - -Mrs. L'Estrange spoke more gently. "Yes, of course. I am sorry I said -that, my dear. And after all, it doesn't make any difference how much -he told or how little. The result to him is the same. And now for your -great news, what are they? You say Spencer has not asked you to marry -him." - -Stella told her of Guy's suggestion, and her acceptance of it. "It is -too good a chance to refuse. So, my dear, I shall have to leave you at -the earliest possible moment." - -It was some time before the elder woman seemed quite able to grasp it. -when she did, her astonishment seemed unbounded. - -"Of all the strange things I have ever heard," she began, but Stella cut -her short with a little mocking laugh. - -"Not quite so strange when you think it quietly out," she said. "If -he really knew anything about me, if I could produce a few respectable -relatives, if I had some of your blue blood in my veins, he would have -proposed this afternoon." - -Mrs. L'Estrange nodded her rather dishevelled head. "I think I see." - -"He is very much in love with me," went on Stella quietly. "Anyway, so -much so that he doesn't want to lose sight of me, while he is making up -his mind. Hence his offer." - -"But he could see you here." - -Stella shook her head. "He would loathe this house after what occurred -last night, and he thinks I am in an unholy set. He really is an awful -dear, you know, so high-minded and upright. His great aim is to get me -away from the environment." - -Mrs. L'Estrange settled herself comfortably amongst her sofa cushions. -She was an excitable and fussy person about trifles, but she took the -great things of life with a calm and equal mind. - -"Well, my dear, go as soon as it suits yourself. You have been a good -pal to me, and I shall be sorry to lose you. But if you have got a -decent chance you would be a fool not to take it." - -Miss Keane was strongly of the same opinion. Anyway she was glad the -interview was over, that Mrs. L'Estrange had taken everything in such -good part. She might have turned nasty if the mood had seized her. - -Later on, Miss Keane wrote a long letter to Tommy Esmond to an address -which he had communicated to her in his note of the morning. - -The same evening, she held a long conversation with her cousin and -trustee, Mr. Dutton, who came to Elsinore Gardens in obedience to an -urgent summons on the telephone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -|Lady Nina Spencer sat in the drawing-room of the big house in Carlton -House Terrace, awaiting the few guests who had been invited to a small, -informal dinner-party. Her father, very infirm for his years, sat -opposite to her in a big easy-chair. - -The Earl spoke in his low, quavering voice: "I have nothing to say -against the woman herself, judging from what little we have seen of her. -She has very perfect manners, just a trifle too perfect. I can quite -understand that for the average man she possesses considerable charm, -and she has great good looks. Many people would call her beautiful. -But I can only repeat what I said on the day I received Guy's letter -announcing his clandestine marriage: 'The pity of it.'" - -Lady Nina was a quiet, robust and practical young person, fond of -looking facts in the face, and looking at them very squarely. - -She had been as much shocked at her cousin's rash marriage as the Earl -himself, but it was an accomplished fact. Only two courses were open: -the first to have nothing more to do with Guy and his wife, the second -to admit the wife to a guarded intimacy. - -Lord Southleigh had declared warmly, in his first disgust, that he would -never look upon his young kinsman's face again. But Nina had prevailed -with milder counsels. Guy was his heir, and in the course of Nature -would succeed to the family honours. They would not cut themselves -adrift from him, and they must make up their minds to tolerate this -wife, of whose antecedents he could give no satisfactory account. The -one fact he did mention, that she was a cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, did -not weigh much with them. - -Mrs. L'Estrange came of a fairly good family, so far as birth counted, -but it was both impecunious and addicted to making unfortunate -alliances. One of her sisters had run away with a good-looking young -fellow who had been her father's valet. She was a woman who would have -a good many undesirable relatives knocking about. Miss Stella Keane, the -daughter of an impoverished Irishman, might well belong to this band of -undesirables. More especially as Guy's statements about her antecedents -were of the most bald and unsatisfactory nature. - -It was all very sad and regrettable from every point of view, but, -as Nina calmly pointed out, several young heirs to peerages had been -running amok lately, in the matrimonial sense, and taking their wives -from very questionable quarters. Guy might have married some coarse and -common creature from the music-halls. It was unfortunate, in a way, that -he had a considerable fortune of his own, and could snap his fingers at -the displeasure of his relatives, if they presumed to show it. - -But, somehow, knowing Guy as well as she did, Nina did not believe that -the future Countess of Southleigh, who would, in due course, wear -the family jewels, was likely to be coarse or common. Guy was too -fastidious, too innately a gentleman, to be snared by a creature of that -kind. - -And, on her first introduction, the young wife made a much more -favourable impression than might have been anticipated, considering the -prejudices arrayed against her. - -She was not in the least servile or obsequious in the presence of these -two very aristocratic persons, but she bore herself with a certain kind -of shrinking modesty, as if asking pardon for having intruded into the -family. Her attitude to her husband appeared to be one of shy adoration, -tempered with perfect good taste. Her deep affection for him, while -not obtrusive or ostentatious, seemed to express itself in her tender -glances, the soft cadences of her voice when she addressed him. - -Nina made up her mind to one thing, that, if she was not genuinely -and devotedly in love with him, she must be one of the most perfect -actresses to be met with off the stage. - -And Guy was still infatuated. When he had made her that strange offer, -he knew that he was drifting, but he had still left some small remnant -of self-control. But her fascination had proved too strong. Every day -she wove the chains more strongly round him. - -And then there came a time when absence from her was unbearable, when he -took to counting the hours that elapsed between their next meeting. The -end was inevitable. The moment came when he definitely made up his -mind that he could not break away; that existence without her would be -intolerable. - -They were married quietly before the registrar, a strange wedding for -the heir to the Southleigh earldom. No relatives of his were present, -as he had foreborne to give them any notice of his intention. She -was unattended also. Even her cousin, Mr. Dutton, did not put in an -appearance. Knowing her future husband's dislike of the young man, she -had not paid him the compliment of requesting his attendance. - -The day before the marriage, she spoke to him in a tremulous voice and -with tears in her eyes. - -"Guy, darling, I have said very little about this before, but you must -not think I am blind to the sacrifices you are making. From to-morrow -I bid adieu to my past life, to all the few friends and acquaintances I -have made; I know that you will be happier by my doing so. Henceforth -I devote my whole life to you. Your people shall be my people, if they -will forgive me and have me." - -He clasped her to his breast with a lover's rapture. How sweet and -womanly she looked as she uttered those words in her low, broken tones. -He understood what she meant. For his sake she was going to give up all -that shady L'Estrange crew, to see as little of her objectionable cousin -as possible. She explained, later on, that she could not ignore him -altogether, as he had the management of her small affairs in his hands. -But all this could be conducted by correspondence. - -Guy was delighted. He knew well enough that his own world would not -accept his marriage kindly, that they would never take his wife to their -offended bosom. But they would rub along somehow. There were plenty of -men he could bring to their house, and perhaps a few decent women who -were perfectly respectable, but not too strait-laced. And, anyway, the -world was well lost for love like this. - -It cannot be said that, on the social side, their existence was a very -brilliant one. It did not matter so much to Guy, he had never been -over-fond of society. He liked his men friends, and having been a -bachelor so long, he was fond of club life. He got quite as much -amusement and distraction as he wanted. - -His wife had many lonely hours, but she was wise in this respect that -she never sought to chain him to her side. Whenever he came home he -found her there waiting for him, affectionate and welcoming. Perhaps, -after her stormy and chequered past, what would have been dullness to -others seemed to her the peace she had been longing for. - -She got on very well with her husband's male friends, most of whom -openly expressed amongst themselves their admiration for her. - -If she had been a woman of a flirtatious temperament she could have had -a good time without overstepping the bounds of decorum. But she never -exceeded the limits of strict friendship. She never indulged in an -intimacy that could have the least element of danger in it. The general -vote was, that she was very beautiful, very charming, in a quiet, -elusive way, but naturally of a cold and unimpassionable nature. Only -for her husband did her glance take on a warmer expression, her voice a -tenderer tone. - -The few women who came to the house found her unsatisfactory. The -impression made upon them--and women are pretty shrewd when dissecting -one of their own sex--was that she was a person who lived too much -within herself, had a rooted disinclination "to let herself go" in -those little confidential chats which are indulged in when no men -are present. And for that studied reticence there must be some cogent -reason. Above all, she never referred to her girlhood, never made any -allusions to her family. The general impression was that Mrs. Spencer -had something to hide. - -Anyway, after many months of married life, Guy was still as much in love -with her as ever, and he was always profoundly touched by the pretty and -impressive way in which she insisted that all the advantages were on her -side, that she could never repay him sufficiently for the sacrifices he -had so cheerfully made. - -Of course Guy knew nothing of what his friends were saying; the men -who admired her beauty, and were disappointed at the negative qualities -which accompanied it; the women who found her unsatisfactory and were -determined that she had something to hide. - -All he knew, and was content in knowing, was this--that after many -months of matrimony, for they had been married few weeks before the -Armistice was proclaimed--that Armistice which was to be the precursor -of a golden era--he was quite happy. She was a perfect wife, from his -point of view, and he never looked back with the faintest misgiving. -What he had done then, he would do again to-day, in spite of the fact -that her reticence with regard to the past was as profound with him as -with the various acquaintances who occasionally visited her. - -Not even the close intimacy of married life had elicited any of those -allusions and confidences which enable one to piece together, in some -measure, the life-history of the person who makes them. But Guy had -a generous nature, and was one of the least suspicious of men. He -attributed this strange reticence to the fact that the past contained -nothing but painful memories, that even to the man she loved she could -not reopen the old wounds. - -On this particular night, Lady Nina was awaiting her guests. It was a -little dinnerparty to meet the young married couple, six in all, herself -and father, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, a young woman friend of the hostess, -and an old friend of the Southleigh family, Hugh Murchison, already met -with in the early chapters of this history. - -Murchison was the first arrival. He walked with a slight limp, the -result of a bad wound in the leg. He had been laid-up for a very long -time at his own home with the effects of shell-shock. He had only been -in London for a few days, and it was ages since the Southleighs had seen -him. They welcomed him warmly. - -After a little desultory conversation Nina spoke: - -"You know from my note that you are here to-night especially to meet -Guy and his wife, the wife that he sprang upon us in such a sudden and -dramatic manner." - -"Yes, I understood that. You know I have been out of the world so long, -and more than half the time not in my right senses, that I had heard -nothing of the details till, a day or two ago, I picked it up from club -gossip. Then I was told that Guy had picked up a girl from nowhere, -about whom nothing was known, and married her on the sly at a -registry-office. I suppose it would be too unkind to assume that Guy had -gone off his head?" - -Lord Southleigh growled out from his easy-chair. "Of course he was off -his head when he did it. And the devil of it is he seems just as much -off his head now. They are like turtle-doves, my dear boy, after several -months of marriage." - -Lady Nina laughed. "My dear father gets more cynical every day. He -insinuates as a general proposition, anyway it can be deduced from -his remarks, that every man who marries a girl for love ought to be -disillusioned shortly after the honeymoon. Well, certainly Guy is as -much in love as ever, and, to be quite fair, she seems just as much in -love with him." - -"She's putting it on, I suppose," suggested Hugh, who in a less -obtrusive fashion was nearly as cynical as his host. "If she came from -nowhere, and nobody knows anything about her, we may safely assume -that she married him for his money, and that he was too infatuated to -recognise the fact. Is she very bewitching?" - -"She is certainly very good-looking," was Nina's reply. "Many people say -she is beautiful. From a man's point of view, she would be considered -very charming in a subtle and elusive sort of way. Of course, my father -hates her, it is a terrible shock to his pride to think she is going -to inherit the family honours. Guy could have married anybody, although -there would always have been still the danger that he would have been -married for his money. When it comes to this point, there is not much -difference between the well-born and low-born adventuress." - -From which remarks it will be gathered that the Lady Nina Spencer was -a young woman of independent opinions, and not too strongly imbued with -caste prejudices. - -Hugh reflected for a few moments. His thoughts had travelled back to -those days at Blankfield, which now seemed so very far oft. What folly -will not a certain type of man commit for the sake of a pretty woman? -Jack Pomfret, in a moment of frenzy, had taken his life when he found he -was tied up to a girl the accomplice and the decoy of a criminal. - -And Guy Spencer, a man of a very different type from the easy-going, -pleasure-loving Pomfret, had made a hash of his opportunities, flouted -his family obligations, to pursue the desire of the moment, to marry out -of his own class. - -"What I hear is, that there is something very mysterious about her, that -she preserves a strange reticence as to her past, makes no allusion to -family or relatives. Does Guy know what other people do not know, and -is he keeping his mouth shut? It is strange. Even if a man marries a -ballet-girl, it comes out sooner or later that her father was a railway -porter, or something of that sort." He pulled himself up suddenly, -and added, awkwardly: "I say, you know, I am afraid I have been very -indiscreet. I forgot for the moment that she is one of the family now." - -A deep growl came from the Earl's armchair: "She is not one of the -family, she never will be. If the young fool had not been left that -money by his godmother he would never have dared to do this disgraceful -thing. By gad, Hugh, it is over a hundred years since there was such a -_mésalliance_ in our family: please Heaven it will be a hundred years -before there is another." - -Nina took up the conversation at the point where her angry father left -it. - -"Of course, Hugh, you can say what you like. You are our old friend; -you are Guy's for that matter, and we are prepared to discuss this thing -with you quite frankly. Guy may know more than we imagine; personally, I -think he knows very little, and only what she has told him." - -"But surely, she must have given some particulars of herself," cried -Hugh, in amazement that a man like his friend Spencer, endowed with a -fair share of common-sense, should take a wife upon trust, as it were. -To be sure, Pomfret had done the same thing, but then poor old Jack, -possessor of many excellent qualities, was singularly deficient in -brain-power. He was one of those who never looked before they leaped. - -Nina shrugged her shoulders. "All we know is that she was a Miss Stella -Keane, the daughter of a man who gambled away his fortune at cards -and on the race-course. As for relatives, she has for cousin a Mrs. -L'Estrange, a woman of good birth, but of somewhat shady reputation, who -no longer mixes with her own class. There is another cousin, a man whose -name I forget. I gather more from what has been omitted than what is -actually said, that he is not a very desirable person, and has not -visited Mrs. Spencer since her marriage. That is all I have learned -during these many months." - -"Not much, certainly. And I suppose the lady dries up when you try to -approach her on the subject." - -"Oh yes, her manner then is very marked," was Nina's answer. "At the -slightest question she seems to become frozen, to shut herself up within -her shell. You know, Hugh, I was prepared to make the best of it all -for Guy's sake, although, of course, I quite sympathise with my father's -resentment. I have nothing to say against her manners or her appearance. -If not a lady, she is most ladylike, and she never offends. But all -the same, I can't take to her. To me there seems something about her -secretive and underhand. She appears to adore Guy, but, as you have -suggested, that may be very accomplished acting." - -At this point, Miss Crichton, Lady Nina's friend, was announced. She -was not in the inner counsels of the Southleigh family, so no further -allusion was made to Guy's wife. - -A few moments later the Spencers arrived. Guy shook his old friend -Murchison warmly by the hand, they had met of late years only once or -twice during Hugh's brief leave from the Front. When they had exchanged -a few mutual inquiries, the young husband turned to his wife, looking -very slender and elegant in a filmy cream confection. - -"Stella, one of my oldest friends, Hugh Murchison. We were boys -together. You must have heard me speak of him." - -The young woman held out her hand with a charming smile that lighted up -the rather sad face, and made her look what so many of her admirers said -she was, quite beautiful. - -"Yes, Major Murchison, I have heard of you from my husband, and how much -you have suffered in this cruel war. You must come and see us, and renew -your old friendship." - -For a moment Hugh could not speak. The room seemed suddenly peopled with -ghosts of the past, summoned by the soft tones of that charming voice, -so low and sweetly modulated. Then, collecting himself with a great -effort, he dropped her hand, and made some formal answer. And at that -moment the butler announced that dinner was served. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -|Small and informal dinner-parties can be either very lively or very -dull, depending, no doubt, upon the careful selection of the guests, -also on the personality of the host and hostess, who can sometimes -exercise magnetic influence. - -Nina was, as a rule, a very vivacious hostess. Her father was uncertain. -If he were in a congenial atmosphere, amongst his old friends and -comrades, he would radiate geniality. But if there was one guest who -did not quite hit it off with him, between whom and himself there was an -undefined spirit of personal antagonism, he dried up at once, and became -gloomy and morose. - -To-night, as his guest of honour, sitting at his right hand, he had the -niece-in-law whose entrance into the family he had so bitterly resented. -During the long courses he hardly spoke a word. He was rude almost to -boorishness. - -But although Stella was fully conscious that she was there on -sufferance, her admirable self-control enabled her to comport herself -with unruffled demeanour. If this spiteful old man hoped that he was -annoying her with his churlish behaviour, she would not give him the -satisfaction of knowing that she was hurt. She ignored him, as he -purposely ignored her. - -Miss Crichton, a cheerful, chatty young woman, whose flow of good -spirits made her welcome at many houses, sat on the other side of the -host. Finding Lord Southleigh disinclined to conversation, and guessing -the reason of it, she divided her remarks between Stella Spencer and -Murchison, who sat next her. - -A good-hearted girl, she felt just a little bit sorry for Stella. -Lord Southleigh was not playing the game. His attitude was altogether -illogical. It was open to him to refuse to receive his unwelcome niece -at all, that would have been perfectly comprehensible. But having -admitted her to his house, it was in the worst possible taste to so -openly proclaim his dislike and detestation. - -Lady Nina talked brightly to her cousin Guy, in the random flashes of -her conversation, taking in the others, with the solitary exception of -her father, who sat there glum and silent, in one of his blackest -and most unapproachable moods. And Miss Crichton did her best, really -working very hard to counteract the sombre influence of the taciturn -host. - -But in spite of the brave efforts of the two young women there was no -exhilaration in the air, only a sort of well-defined depression, such as -is felt in the atmosphere before the faint rumblings of a thunderstorm. -Nobody really felt comfortable, not a single guest would feel anything -but relief when the tedious evening drew to a close. - -Guy Spencer was relieved, in a way, that his uncle had ostensibly buried -the hatchet, but still he never felt happy in that uncle's house. The -strong disapproval was there, if suppressed for the sake of politeness. - -These little informal dinners, given at long intervals to impress upon -him that he was still a recognised member of the family, bored him -extremely. They were always strictly limited as to numbers, and the -other guests were generally people of no importance, on the outer fringe -of that society in which the Southleighs moved. - -It was difficult to know what Stella was feeling, for she had such -admirable self-control. But if she was a sensitive woman she must have -been cut to the heart by the behaviour of her elderly relative. And -her suffering must have been more poignant from the fact that this -contemptuous behaviour must be apparent to every other member of the -party. - -While the two young women were chattering away, battling, as it were, -against the general depression, Hugh Murchison was trying to collect his -thoughts. - -Strange that his recollections had harked back to that tragedy at -Blankfield while Nina was speaking of the young Mrs. Spencer. And, if -his memory and his eyesight were not playing him false, he was sitting -opposite to the unhappy Pomfret's widow. - -Six years make a considerable difference in the personal appearance of -any man or woman, and they had made a difference in her. If he had met -her in the street, he would not have known her. Perhaps he would not -have known her to-night, but for that sudden accidental throwing back -of the memory of old times. In other words, if his mind had not been -accidentally diverted to Jack Pomfret, he would have failed to recognise -the woman whom he once knew under the name of Norah Burton. - -And yet could he be sure? Let him think a little. Six years ago Norah -Burton looked twenty, and Davidson the detective assured him she was at -least four years older than she looked--the appearance of youth, he had -added, was one of her assets. - -This young woman did not look a day older than twenty-six, and taking -the computation of the years, she must be at least thirty. But if she -were Norah Burton, and had retained that priceless asset of youth, she -would still have that four years' advantage. - -Then Norah Burton's hair was fair and wavy, Stella Spencer's was dark. -Still it is easy for a woman to alter the colour or the appearance -of her hair. If Stella Keane had arisen, like the phoenix, from Norah -Burton, she would alter herself in every detail, so far as Nature -permitted her. - -Still, it is said that everybody in the world has a double. Often in -his own experience he had claimed acquaintance with somebody whom he -had mistaken for an old friend, and smilingly apologised for his error. -Norah's good looks had been of a rather uncommon kind, but there must be -dozens of women in the world more or less like her. - -Then, as Miss Crichton's harmless chatter flowed on, he thought of other -things. Norah had an obscure past, on which such guarded confidences as -she permitted herself to indulge in threw little or no light. It would -appear that Stella Keane's history moved much on the same lines. There -were only vague intimations, nothing definite, nothing satisfactory. - -There was another point of resemblance. Norah had one male relative who -came out into the open for inspection, in her case a brother, afterwards -discovered to be a criminal. Stella Keane had one male relative also, -in her case a cousin, of whom nothing was known, except that he was an -undesirable person who had not visited his relative's house since her -marriage, no doubt for reasons well known to himself and Stella. - -_Ergo_ the undesirable cousin was lying low, as George Burton would have -lain low, when Jack Pomfret had openly acknowledged Norah as his wife. - -And yet--and yet--was there anything in these suspicions? was he -not allowing himself to be misled by a chance resemblance, by random -coincidences? - -He stole a look at Guy Spencer chatting amiably with his cousin, the -cousin whom rumour had persistently designed as the future Countess of -Southleigh. He seemed the happy contented young married man; there was -no hint of trouble or regret in his assured, placid demeanour. Evidently -he was suffering from no self-reproach, no suspicion of the beautiful -young woman he had made his wife. The calmness of his aspect gave the -lie to any such disquieting suggestions. - -And the current of Murchison's thoughts ran swiftly along. They had been -married some time now. If Stella Keane was the impostor Hugh suspected -her to be, from that striking resemblance to Norah Burton the heroine of -that tragic Blankville episode, surely in the close intimacy of wedded -life something would have escaped her that would have aroused her -husband's suspicions, have set him inquiring more closely into the past. - -Granting that she was a clever actress, still the most accomplished -performer in the world could not wear the mask all day. There must -come one moment, if not several moments, when that mask would be -inadvertently dropped. - -No, he must be mistaken. The resemblance must be accidental. The brother -in the one case, the cousin in the other, were equally accidental -coincidences. - -He had got to this frame of mind when the men joined the ladies after -dinner. In the spacious drawing-room, the atmosphere seemed to have -cleared, the tension to be relaxed, with the change of scene. - -This was readily comprehensible. During dinner, Lord Southleigh, -frowning and morose, in close juxtaposition with his guests, had in a -very real sense dominated the scene, and communicated a sense of his -hostility and displeasure to all round him, not least to the unhappy -young woman who had inspired those wrathful feelings. - -Upstairs he was less in evidence. He retreated to the far end of the -room, flung himself in a deep armchair, and, in a way, removed -himself from the proceedings. There was nobody to whom he felt himself -constrained to be civil. Murchison he had known from a boy; he could -afford to be uncivil, to play the rôle of churlish host. Miss Crichton -was more or less a social hanger-on, grateful for invitations to good -houses; she did not count. Guy had forfeited all claim to consideration. -His wife ought to be made to feel her position every moment of her life. - -Murchison gravitated to Miss Crichton. Well born, she was very poor, and -by no means proud. She accepted in a meek spirit the social crumbs that -were thrown at her by her wealthy superiors. She was always obliging and -amiable. She never grumbled at being asked to join a dinner-party at -the eleventh hour, when some other guest had failed. She never resented -being put in a small bedroom at a country house-party, while a rich girl -with no ancestry was given a luxurious apartment. - -On account of this excessive amiability, this indifference to studied -and unstudied slights, she was immensely popular. All her friends -declared her not only to be amiable, but "so sensible!" - -Hugh had known her for years, and in a way he pitied her, much more -really than she pitied herself, for she had long since grown accustomed -to her lot. But what he did know was, that she was as shrewd as she was -amiable, that under that gay and smiling exterior she concealed a very -acute intelligence. - -He wanted particularly to know her opinion of Mrs. Spencer, if she were -frank enough to give it, for she had especially developed the bump of -caution. She heard a great deal, but what she heard she generally kept -to herself. It would have been fatal to her somewhat insecure position -if it could have been said of her, with regard to any particular -scandal, "Of course, you will never give me away, but Laura Crichton was -my informant." - -He replied in a general way, "I was very interested, to-night, in my old -friend Guy Spencer's wife. She is a little bit on the quiet side, but -she is very beautiful, and there is certainly a wonderful charm about -her. Of course, Lord Southleigh behaved abominably. I rather wonder she -did not fling herself out of the room. One can understand his feelings, -in a certain way. But why does he not take one attitude or the other? -If he elects to receive her, for the sake of avoiding an open breach, he -ought to put his hostility in his pocket." - -Miss Crichton smiled her worldly and diplomatic smile: "Dear Lord -Southleigh is never very successful at hiding his real feelings." - -"Do you see much of her?" asked Hugh presently. - -"Oh, very little. I have met her a few times here, at these little -informal gatherings. Lord Southleigh won't have her at their big -parties, as I daresay you know. I have called on her a few times, and -she has called back. That is all." - -"Well, you have seen enough to form some opinion of her. I should dearly -like to know what that is." - -Miss Crichton looked at him quizzically. "Oh, the artfulness of you men! -Do you think I don't see that you are trying to draw me? Well, I have -formed the same conclusion that you have--she is very beautiful, and, -from a man's point of view, has a subtle charm. Will that content you?" - -Hugh regarded her with a smile as quizzical as her own. "No, I'm -afraid it won't. Now, look here, we are very old friends," he said -persuasively, "and I am pretty near as discreet as you are, I never -repeat what is told me in confidence. I should like to put a plain -question to you." - -"Put it: I don't promise to answer it, you know." - -"Of course not. But I am very much interested in this strange marriage -of Guy's. And, please don't think I am laying it on with a trowel, but -I have very great faith in your judgment, I would trust it more than I -would that of nine-tenths of the women I know." - -Of course she knew he was flattering her to obtain his purpose; but -then--was the most sensible woman absolutely impervious to flattery? - -"Ask me your question," she answered briefly. - -Hugh sank his voice to a whisper. "We hear a great deal about her -reticence as to the past. Do you think, in a few words, that Stella -Spencer is a good and straight woman in the general sense in which we -understand the expression?" - -For a moment Miss Crichton hesitated, then she looked him straight in -the face. He had compelled her to a most unusual frankness. - -"You will, of course, never breathe a word of this to anybody. Suppose -I say I refuse to reply to your question. Will you take that refusal as -the answer you really want?" - -"I will--a thousand thanks. The subject is closed between us," was -Hugh's grateful reply. - -A diversion was caused by the approach of Guy Spencer. - -"Hugh, old man, I am aching for a long crack with you. Come and dine -quietly with us next week. I suggest Tuesday if that will suit you?" - -"Perfectly; I am free on Tuesday, Guy." - -"Right, then. But to make sure, if Miss Crichton will excuse us, we will -go over to Stella and see if I have forgotten something, if we are free -that night. I can't always carry these things in my head." - -They crossed over to the beautiful young woman, who was sustaining a -somewhat listless conversation with her young hostess. - -"Stella," cried her husband, "I have asked Hugh to dine with us on -Tuesday. My recollection is that we have nothing on for that night. But -I thought you had better confirm it. You carry these things in your head -so much better than I do." - -Young Mrs. Spencer smiled at Hugh her sweet smile, and as she did so -her likeness to Norah Burton was overwhelming, the Norah Burton who had -smiled at him in just the same way six years ago, in the tea-shop at -Blankfield. - -"We are quite free, Major Murchison, and shall be delighted to see you." - -For a few moments he sat down beside her; and very shortly another -coincidence happened. - -Mrs. Spencer made use of a certain word which is always pronounced in -a certain way by educated people, and in another way by people who are -only partially educated. Norah Burton had pronounced this particular -word in the same way as Stella. - -Hugh had commented upon the fact to Pomfret, and that easy-going young -man had remarked to him that he failed to see it much mattered, that she -was at liberty to pronounce the word as she thought fit. - -When he got home, he passed a very restless night. When he had gone up -into the drawingroom after dinner, he had been half prepared to dismiss -the matter from his mind as a mere fantasy. And then had come his -brief interview with Laura Crichton, in which she gave him plainly to -understand that, in her opinion, Stella Spencer was not a good or a -straight woman. - -And then had come that corroborative little piece of evidence of the -mispronunciation of a certain word, establishing another link in the -chain of evidence that Stella Keane and Norah Burton were one and the -same person. - -And if it were so, what was his duty? If he could prove her to be Norah -Burton, and her undesirable relative, George Burton, now freed from -jail, could he permit such an adventuress to pass another day in the -house of this honest gentleman whom she had so skilfully entrapped, as -six years ago she had entrapped the guileless and trusting Jack Pomfret? - -The morning dawned and found him still in the throes of anxious thought. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -|As Murchison thought over matters in the cold, clear light of the -morning, when the brain is at its freshest, he cursed the fate that ever -seemed to mix him up in the private affairs of his friends. First had -been that unhappy episode of poor Jack Pomfret, who had not strength -of mind to survive the disgrace he had brought upon himself by his -impetuous folly. - -Now there was this affair of Guy Spencer's, which he felt he must -go through with and prove to the bottom. He must find out definitely -whether the likeness to Norah Burton was accidental, or whether that -scheming adventuress had, for the second time, ensnared a trusting and -unsuspicious man. - -On Tuesday night when he dined in Eaton Place with the Spencers, he -would seize an opportunity of putting to her a few leading questions. -They would be of such a nature, that if his suspicions were correct, -they would shake her self-possession. - -Certainly, she had betrayed no embarrassment at the sight of him, and -that was a point in her favour. For, assuming that she was Norah Burton, -the name of Murchison would be quite familiar to her, even if she had -forgotten his appearance after the lapse of those six years. - -In the meantime he would get as much information about Stella Keane as -he could before the date of the dinner. There was a man at his club, -Gregory Fairfax, a middle-aged gossip, who was to be found in the -smoking-room every day at a certain hour. - -Fairfax was a man of leisure and means, who had the reputation of -knowing more people, and all about them, than anybody in town. He mixed -in a dozen different sets: smart, fast, and Bohemian. He was equally -at home in Belgravia, Mayfair, South Kensington, and several other -quarters. He belonged to most of the best clubs, and many more that -had no pretensions to social distinction. His knowledge of the various -phases of London life was wide and extensive. He had also a marvellous -memory. He never forgot a face or the minutest details of a scandal. - -To this gentleman, with whom he was on quite intimate terms, having -known him from his first introduction to the London world, Hugh -repaired, in the hope of getting to know all there was to know about -this mysterious young woman who had so suddenly and clandestinely -projected herself into the Southleigh family. - -After a few casual remarks, he opened the ball. It was an easy task, -for there was nothing pleased Fairfax more than to place his extensive -social knowledge at the service of any friend or acquaintance who was in -search of details. - -"I say, Fairfax, I think you can help me in a little matter, because you -have the reputation of knowing everything about everybody." - -Mr. Fairfax smiled genially. He was very proud of his profound social -knowledge, and nothing pleased him more than to have his well-earned -reputation alluded to in flattering terms. - -"Fire away, my young friend. I think I have picked up a bit in my -twenty-five years of London life. Who is it you want to ask me about?" - -"I dined last night with my old friends the Southleighs; and there, for -the first time, I met Mrs. Guy Spencer. I had heard of the marriage, -of course, but no particulars of the young lady until I came to town -a little while ago. All I have learned is that she was a Miss Stella -Keane, and that she gives no very detailed account of her family -history. I gather the general impression is that there is a mystery -about her, which she refuses to allow anybody to penetrate. Do you know -anything about her yourself?" - -Fairfax assumed an air of great gravity and importance. He was now in -his element, about to pour out his stores of knowledge to an interested -and grateful listener. - -"There may be one or two people who know as much as I know--always -remembering that there is no first-hand knowledge, but the chances are -a hundred to one you would not come across them. It happens that I was -a good deal in that rather queer set which frequented Mrs. L'Estrange's -flat." - -"She was supposed to|be a well-bred woman, was she not?" - -"Oh, certainly, so far as family went. But, judging in the light of -subsequent events, there is no doubt she was a wrong'un. The place, from -the start, was simply a gambling saloon. Sometimes, the play was very -moderate. I am fond of a bit of a flutter myself, but I must own that I -never lost very much, and for a long time I never had any suspicions of -foul play." - -"Ah, but you had later on?" interrupted Hugh. - -"I'll come to that before we get on to Miss Stella Keane. Then one night -something happened. Do you remember a little chap named Esmond, who used -to go about everywhere?" - -Yes, Hugh remembered Tommy Esmond, although his acquaintance with him -had been of the slightest. - -"He was a funny little man, very genial and popular with everybody. Like -myself, he didn't stick to any one particular set, but went into a dozen -different ones. One night he would be dining at a swagger club with a -peer, the next he would be hobnobbing at a pot-house sort of a place -with a fifth-rate actor. Very eclectic was Tommy, and nobody ever knew -where the deuce he came from. He had been so long about that people -forgot to inquire, and looked upon him as a sort of institution, and -took him for granted, as it were. - -"Well, one night, one dreadful night, Tommy was discovered cheating by -a couple of chaps who were too sharp for him. They were common sort of -fellows, might have been crooks themselves for all I know, and kicked up -a deuce of a row. They went so far as to insinuate that Mrs. L'Estrange -was not altogether innocent, and had a hand in the plunder. Result, -Tommy had to make a bolt of it." - -"What was your own opinion about it? Was it an accident?" - -"I might not have believed it, but a similar thing took place about a -couple of months later. Another man was found cheating, and this -time Mrs. L'Estrange refused to face the music. She closed down, and -disappeared from London. I have never met anybody who has seen or heard -anything of her since. I expect she's to be found on the Continent like -her friend Tommy." - -"And Miss Keane was an inmate of this suspicious household?" - -"Yes, ever since I went to the house, up to a few days after Tommy -bolted. She left suddenly, and Mrs. L'Estrange was very reticent as to -where she had gone to. The next I heard was that she had been married -quietly to Guy Spencer." - -"Did any suspicions attach to her?" - -"No, it would not be fair to say that they did. She never played -herself, but she had a great knack of hovering about the tables. And -after the Esmond episode one or two men whispered that she had been -hovering about them too much, and that Mrs. L'Estrange thought she had -better get rid of her, might be so or not." - -"Did you ever come across a cousin of hers there, a man named Dutton?" - -"Oh yes, a dozen or more times, for I went to the flat pretty -frequently. A common, under-bred fellow, not in the least like her, for -in addition to being remarkably good-looking, her manners and appearance -were those of a lady." - -"Do you know what has become of him?" - -"Yes, he's an outside stockbroker, with a small office in the City. I -ran against him only last week. I don't know whether he recognised me -or not, but I looked the other way. With one or two exceptions, the -L'Estrange _clientèle_ was not one that you cared to recognise when -outside the flat." - -Fairfax had finished his narrative. Hugh thanked him warmly. Still, he -had not learned anything really of importance. There was no evidence -that Miss Keane had cheated, or helped others to cheat. The hovering -round the card-table was not a particularly suspicious action if taken -by itself. She might be signalling to her confederates, of course, but -there was no evidence on which to convict her. - -A sudden thought struck Murchison which prompted him to put a question -to Fairfax. - -"She might have been a decoy, to lure rich men to this gambling place, -in order that they might be rooked by her accomplices." The middle-aged -man shook his head. "I don't think so. She had no scope for that sort of -game. Mrs. L'Estrange hardly knew anybody in her own world, for reasons -which I daresay could be very satisfactorily explained, I should guess a -not too clean or reputable past. She could not get the girl into houses -where she would pick up rich men." - -"But you say some men came there who played heavily." - -"A few," answered Fairfax. "But I always had a notion that Dutton picked -those up, in the course of his shady business, a mug here, a mug there, -who had a few thousands to throw away either on the Stock Exchange or -in gambling. If the flat was run on the crook, and it is even betting -it was, I should say the proprietors--or the syndicate, call it what -you like--were contented with quite small profits. I daresay a couple of -thousand a year would keep Mrs. L'Estrange in luxury, and I suppose she -must have had a bit of money of her own." - -"And, assuming that they were all in league, Tommy Esmond and others -would want their bit," suggested Hugh. - -"Certainly," assented Fairfax; "but always granting that the show was -run on the crook, it wouldn't be difficult to romp in thirty or forty -pounds a night, with even the small players and the occasional mugs -who were well-lined. Quite a decent amount to divide at the end of the -week." - -"Well, I am awfully obliged for all you have told me, Fairfax." - -"But it doesn't help you much, eh?" queried the elder man, who detected -a certain note of disappointment in his companion's tone. - -"Well, candidly, it doesn't, but of course, that is no fault of yours. -We may dismiss the L'Estrange business, there is no evidence there. She -might have signalled to her confederates or not. It might have been a -perfectly innocent action. She didn't play herself, she just hovered -round the tables to kill the time." - -"Of course, either theory will fit," remarked the shrewd man of the -world, who had picked up so much knowledge of life in his forty-five -strenuous years. - -He paused for a few moments before he spoke again. - -"Now look here, Murchison, I can read you like a book. I haven't -told you very much more than you know yourself, or could have pieced -together. You are disappointed because I couldn't tell you anything of -her history prior to her appearance in the L'Estrange household. Well, -there, I am at fault. And you have a particular reason for wanting to -know. In other words, you have some suspicions of your own." - -Hugh felt he must be cautious. In connecting Mrs. Spencer with Norah -Burton he might be on the wrong track altogether, have been deceived -by a striking, but purely accidental, resemblance. He could not be too -frank with a man of Fairfax's temperament. Rumour had it that he would -always respect a confidence, but his general reputation was that of a -chatterbox. He spoke guardedly. - -"Yes, certain undefined ones, quite undefined, please understand that." -Then, speaking a little more frankly, "What I dearly want to know is, -was she a straight woman before she charmed my friend Guy Spencer into -marrying her." - -Fairfax smiled his slow, wise smile: "I am glad you have put your cards -on the table. Of course I guessed from the beginning that it was what -you were after. Well, I shan't breathe a word of this to anybody; I -can hold my tongue when I have a mind. You have a deep interest in the -matter for the sake of the Southleigh family, eh?" - -Hugh had to admit that it was so. - -"Well, I am going to tell you something that, up to the present, I have -not told to anybody else, and, to tell you the truth, I was not in the -least interested in Guy Spencer's marriage. If he chose to marry a girl -without a past, that was his affair. But I see you are keen." - -"Yes, I am very keen." - -"Good! well, I will give you a little information, from which you can -draw your own inferences. They are as open to you as to me, and I -shall just state the bare facts. As you know, Esmond had to bolt to the -Continent. On a certain morning I came up from the country by an early -train, landing at Charing Cross. I went to the bookstall to buy a few -papers. I must tell you that I am one of those persons who have eyes at -the back of their head, and see everything going on around them." - -Yes, Hugh knew that Fairfax had a wonderful gift of observation, in -addition to his many other gifts. - -"As I turned away, I saw Esmond slink into the station, glancing -furtively from right to left, as fearful of being seen. Of course, I -had not heard the news, and I was not present at the _débâcle_, but I -guessed something was up from his furtive appearance. As he slunk along, -a young woman heavily-veiled walked swiftly forward, and laid her hand -upon his arm. They were only together for a few seconds, Esmond was -evidently urging her to leave him for fear of recognition. When they -parted, she kissed him affectionately. In spite of the heavy veiling, I -recognised her." - -"Stella Keane, of course," cried Hugh. - -"Stella Keane. Fortunately, neither of them saw me, I expect they were -both too agitated. Well, there is the fact; as I said just now, you can -draw your own inferences, and perhaps answer the question whether she -was a good woman before she married your friend." - -"It is answered," said Hugh sternly. "A good woman would not trouble to -go to the station to say good-bye to a derelict card-sharper, and kiss -him affectionately, unless there had been some close and dishonourable -relationship between them." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -|Murchison arrived at Eaton Place about twenty minutes before the dinner -hour. His expectation was that he would find Mrs. Spencer alone in the -drawing-room, and in this hope he was not disappointed. - -Stella, beautifully gowned, was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, -reading. As he was announced, she rose and threw her novel down. She -advanced to him with outstretched hand and that ever-charming smile. - -"Oh, how sweet of you to come in good time, not rush in just a moment -before dinner is served. We can have a comfortable chat before Guy -comes. He takes an awful time to dress, you know. His ties bother him -really; he discards about half a dozen before he gets the proper bow. -Isn't it silly?" - -She was very girlish to-night, quite different from what she had been at -the Southleigh party, staid, demure, a little resentful, and averse from -conversation. - -Murchison's thoughts flew back to that day at Blankfield when he had met -a certain girl by chance at the tea-shop. Norah Burton had been just -as girlish then as Mrs. Spencer was now, allowing for the six years' -interval. - -She crossed over to a Chesterfield, and motioned him to a seat beside -her. Hugh obeyed her invitation, but he felt sure that she had done this -with a motive. She was about to exercise her subtle fascination on her -husband's friend. - -"Now, please tell me all about yourself," she said. "You are Guy's -friend, and I have a right to know. His friends are mine. I know what -you have done in the war: you have suffered very terribly. But before -that; please enlighten me." - -It was a challenge. Did she desire to know as much of his past as he -desired to know of hers? He looked at her very steadily. - -"You know, Mrs. Spencer, it is a little difficult to go back to anything -before those awful years of war. But I remember, as in a sort of dream, -that, quite as a young man, I was gazetted to the Twenty-fifth Lancers." - -"A crack regiment, was it not?" queried Mrs. Spencer. "My dear father -was in the Twenty-fourth." - -She was keeping it up bravely, he thought. He remembered Fairfax's -story. The woman who had said good-bye to a fugitive card-sharper at -Charing Cross Station, and kissed him affectionately, was hardly likely -to be the daughter of an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers. He -was not sure of very much, but of this one incident he was absolutely -positive: Fairfax was a man who was always certain of his facts. - -"I can't remember much about the early years; I expect I went through -the usual trials and troubles of a young subaltern, was subjected to -a good deal of ragging. Well, somehow, promotion came: I was Captain -at quite a youthful age. The one thing that sticks in my mind, in those -pre-war days, is the fact that we were quartered at Blankfield." - -Mrs. Spencer lifted calm, inquiring eyes. "At Blankfield! And where is -that?" - -"You don't mean to say you haven't heard of Blankfield?" - -Mrs. Spencer shook her dark head. "No; I dare say it shows great -ignorance, but I was never good at geography. I was brought up so -quietly; I have never travelled. I know next to nothing of my own -country, and nothing of any other." - -She uttered these remarks with a disarming and appealing smile, as if -asking pardon from a man of the world for having led such an uneventful -and sequestered life--she, as he thought sardonically, the mysterious -cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, the affectionate friend of the card-sharper -Tommie Esmond. - -"Blankfield is rather a well-known town in Yorkshire; it is also a -garrison town. As I said, it was my lot to be quartered there." - -"Was it a nice place?" queried Mrs. Spencer with an air of polite -interest. - -"In a way, yes; we had a good time. But my recollections of it -are distinctly unpleasant. For I had the misfortune to assist at a -tragedy--nay, more, to play a part in it--which has left an ineffaceable -record upon my memory." Stella Spencer leaned forward. There was no -momentary change of expression upon the clear-cut, charming face; her -eyes met his own with a calm, steady gaze. But he thought--and after all -that might be fancy--he detected a restless movement of her hands. - -"I shall like to hear about that tragedy, if it is not too painful for -you to recall it," she said softly. If she were really what he -believed her to be, she was playing the rôle of sympathetic listener to -perfection. - -"I had a young chum of the name of Pomfret, a mere boy, impulsive, -high-spirited, generous, unsuspicious, little versed in the ways of -the world, absolutely unversed in the ways of women. I had promised -his family to look after him. Looking back at this distance of years, -I realise how badly I fulfilled my trust; how, in a sense, I was -unwittingly the cause of the tragedy that befell him. I wonder if you -ever came across my friend, Jack Pomfret." - -"Never; but, of course, I have met so few people. And you know the -truth, as well as everybody else, I was not brought up in my husband's -world, in your world and that of the Southleighs. I could never claim -to be more than respectable middle-class. I take it, your friend was a -member of some old family." - -The voice was steady, but he thought he noticed an increased -restlessness in the movements of the hands. And the admission that she -was a member of the respectable middle-class struck him as conveying a -false note intentionally. If what she alleged was true, that her father -had been an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers, she was a grade higher -than the respectable middle-class. Clever as she was, she had made a -false step there. - -"You want to hear the history of that tragedy, of the terrible -circumstances which cut short the life of my poor young friend. Well, it -is hardly necessary to say that a woman was the cause. Women, I suppose, -have been at the bottom of most of the tragedies that have happened to -men ever since the days of Eve." - -"I know that is the general opinion, but I have always been very -doubtful as to whether it is a true one." - -She spoke lightly, but it seemed to him her tone was not quite so -assured as it had been a moment ago. Anyway, she was evidently intensely -interested in the forthcoming narrative. - -"At Blankfield I happened to make the acquaintance of a very charming -young woman, who was not received in the Society of the place, for the -reason that nothing was known about her. The acquaintance was made in -the most unconventional fashion. She asked me to call upon her and her -brother. I told all this to Pomfret, who knew the girl by sight, and -he asked me to take him along with me. He had met her very often in the -High Street, and was immensely attracted by her appearance." - -"And were you attracted, too, by this formidable young lady, Major -Murchison?" interrupted Stella. - -"In a way. But, honestly, more curious than attracted. Well, to cut my -story as short as I can, Pomfret soon arrived at an understanding with -the young woman, to a great extent without my knowledge. They were -married secretly; there were family reasons why he could not marry her -openly." - -"But this--but this"--was she speaking a little nervously, or was it -only his fancy?--"was quite romantic and charming. No doubt they were -deeply in love with each other. Surely there was no tragedy to follow -such a delightful wooing?" - -"But there was. This innocent-faced, charming girl was an adventuress -of the first water. She was the accomplice of her criminal brother, if -brother he was. A day or two after the wedding, Pomfret and I went -to dine with this wretched pair. Before we sat down to dinner, two -detectives entered the room and arrested the so-called brother on a -charge of forgery." - -Mrs. Spencer shuddered. "How horrible, how appalling! And what happened -to the girl? was she arrested, too?" - -"No; she fainted, and I dragged my friend away. At the time I did not -know he had married her. When I got him back to the barracks, he told me -his miserable story. That same night, or some time in the next morning, -he shot himself. It was perhaps a cowardly way in which to avoid the -consequences of his folly, but then he was always rash and impulsive." - -Mrs. Spencer spoke, and there was a far-away look in her eyes. "Your -poor friend! No wonder that memory haunts you. And yet, he was not very -wise. This poor adventuress might have been easy to deal with; she -might not have troubled him any further if he had made her some small -allowance; would, so to speak, have slunk out of his life. And she might -have been innocent herself, unable to break away from this wretched -criminal of a brother." - -"You are very charitable, Mrs. Spencer," said Hugh coldly. "But I fear -I cannot agree with you. If the girl had been naturally and innately -honest, she would rather have swept a crossing than have lived upon the -gains of that creature--brother, or lover, or whatever he was." - -Stella spoke with dignity. "You are, I see, very much moved, Major -Murchison, and you can judge better than I. I cannot pretend -to understand the mentality of adventuresses and their criminal -associates," she added with a light laugh, "but I should say that -sweeping a crossing is a most uncongenial occupation, especially in the -cold weather." - -"In other words, if you had been in her place, you would have preferred -to live on the earnings of a rogue?" queried Hugh, perhaps a little too -warmly. As soon as he spoke, he regretted his words. He had given her an -advantage, of which she was not slow to avail herself. - -She drew herself up proudly. "Major Murchison, are you not saying a -little too much in presuming to place me on the level of the adventuress -you have spoken of? I think it will be more consistent with my -self-respect to leave your question unanswered." - -And then suddenly her proud mood vanished, and a softer one took its -place. Her voice trembled as she spoke; there was a suspicious moisture -in her eyes. - -"I see that I was very wrong when I suffered Guy to persuade me to marry -him. I have alienated him from his friends and family, and, alas! I have -none of my own to bring him in exchange. His uncle loathes me; Lady Nina -is polite and tolerates me. And you--you, his old friend, who have known -him from boyhood--you dislike me also. But--" and here her voice swelled -into a proud note--"my husband loves and trusts me. While he does that, -Major Murchison, I can snap my fingers at the rest of the world." - -Murchison bowed respectfully; he felt he had got to recover a good deal -of lost ground. So far the woman had the advantage, but he did not fail -to notice the vulgarity of the last phrase, "snap my fingers." - -"I am very sorry if I have offended you, Mrs. Spencer, by my indiscreet -remarks. If you are secure in Guy's love, as I am sure you are, you have -a very happy possession." - -She sank back on the sofa, and in a second recovered the composure which -had been momentarily disturbed. - -"Forgive me if I have spoken a little warmly," she said, "but I could -not overlook what you said just now." - -And then Hugh shot at her his last bolt. "I have not yet told you the -name of the girl who drove my poor young friend Pomfret to his death." - -"Tell it me, if you please, but I shall be no more likely to know it -than the name of your friend, Mr. Pomfret. As I told you, I am a member -of the respectable middle-class; I cannot boast that I am acquainted -with the aristocracy, except through my husband." - -"And yet your father, you told me just now, was an officer in the -Twenty-fourth Lancers. Those officers were all recruited from the -aristocracy, or at worst the upper middle-class." - -"Oh, you are trying to cross-examine me and trap me," she cried -bitterly. - -But Hugh was inexorable. "The name of that woman was Norah Burton; her -accomplice, her brother as she called him, was George Burton; he had -other aliases," he thundered. - -He had shot his last bolt, but Stella was not shaken. She rose up, -quivering a little. He noticed that, but it might be due to the -agitation of wronged innocence. - -"The name conveys nothing to me. Your attitude during these few minutes -has been very strange. You have insinuated that I am an adventuress on -the same level with your Miss Norah something. Well, so far, poor dear -Guy has not shot himself, and I will take good care he doesn't." - -"You have much to gain by his living, if you love him--the title and -everything. I have no doubt he has made his will. You would gain a good -deal by his death. I cannot say, at the moment, which alternative would -suit you better." - -"You are intolerable, you are insulting. If I tell my husband this when -he comes down, he will kick you out of the house." - -"But I don't think you will tell your husband," retorted Hugh coolly. - -"And why not? My word will outweigh yours. I have only to tell him that -you brand me as an adventuress, of the same class as this Miss Nora -Burton, and you will see what he will say." - -"But you will not tell him," repeated Hugh. "Mrs. Spencer, I did not -think we should go so far as we have done. But I will put my cards -on the table at once, and I do so from certain indications in your -demeanour to-night. I will not say all I have in my mind; I am going to -collect further evidence first. But I will say this: you are not what -you seem." He had touched her now. Her calm had gone, her breast was -heaving, her hands were moving more restlessly. - -"Put your cards on the table and have done. I was Stella Keane when I -married my husband. I defy you to disprove that." - -"At present, no. You are the same Stella Keane who saw Tommie Esmond, -a discovered card-sharper, off at the Charing Cross Station, and kissed -him an affectionate farewell. If you were on such intimate terms with -that man, you are no fit wife for my friend Guy Spencer." - -He had touched her at last. "How did you find that out?" she gasped, and -her face for a second went livid. She was surprised beyond the point of -denial. - -And at that moment the door opened and Guy Spencer entered. She -recovered herself immediately; went up to her husband and laid a -caressing hand on his shoulder. - -"A perfect tie, dearest; it was worth the time. Your friend, Major -Murchison, has been distressing me with a terrible story of some tragedy -that happened when he was quartered at Blankfield." - -Guy Spencer smiled cheerfully. "Dear old Hugh is good at stories. He -must tell it me after dinner." - -As she looked up into her husband's face, Hugh noticed the tender light -in her eyes. Lady Nina had said that if she was not devotedly in love -with Guy, she must be the most consummate actress off the stage. Loving -wife or consummate actress, which was she? - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -|When Hugh reflected over that interview in the drawing-room before -dinner, he came to the conclusion that he had not played his cards very -well, that he had been a little too precipitate. Whether she was Norah -Burton or not, she was a very clever young woman, and he had just put -her on her guard by that rather indiscreet allusion to Tommy Esmond. If -he had no further evidence to go on than that incident, she would give -her husband a plausible explanation of it. And Hugh believed his old -friend Guy was still deeply in love enough with his wife to believe -anything she told him. - -He could imagine her telling that convincing story to Guy, probably with -her arms round his neck, and her pretty eyes looking up to his with the -love-light in them. Esmond had been a kind friend to her, had done her -many a good turn. Much as she deplored his baseness, she could not bear -the thought of his slinking out of the country, a branded fugitive, -without a forgiving hand stretched out to him. - -Backwards and forwards he revolved the matter in his mind, till he came -to the conclusion that the problem was one he could not solve himself. -And then he suddenly thought of his old acquaintance, Davidson of -Scotland Yard, the tall man of military aspect who had arrested George -Burton on that memorable night at Rosemount. - -He went round to Scotland Yard, presented his card, and inquired for Mr. -Davidson. His old acquaintance was dead; a man named Bryant had taken -his place. Would Major Murchison care to see him? - -In a few seconds Hugh was ushered into Bryant's room. To his surprise -and relief Bryant was the man who had accompanied Davidson to -Blankfield. It was pretty certain he would recall to the minutest detail -the circumstances of that visit. - -"Good-day, Mr. Bryant. You know my name by my card, of course, but I am -not so sure you remember anything of the time and place where we last -met." - -But the detective was able to reassure him on this point. - -"In our profession, sir, we remember everything and everybody, and we -never forget a face. It is some years ago, it is true, but I recall -the incidents of our meeting as if they had happened yesterday. Poor -Davidson and I came down to collar that slim rascal George Burton, -who, by the way, got off with a light sentence. Davidson saw you in the -afternoon and gave you the option of staying away. You talked it over, -and came to the conclusion that, for certain reasons, you would rather -be in at the finish. Those reasons were connected with your young friend -Mr. Pomfret, who was infatuated with the young woman." - -"You remember everything as well as I do, Mr. Bryant. I must -congratulate you on your marvellous memory, for I suppose this is only -one out of hundreds of cases." - -Mr. Bryant smiled, well pleased at this tribute to his capacity. - -"We cultivate our small gifts, sir, in this direction. Well, we took the -slim George. The girl fainted. You dragged Mr. Pomfret out of the house, -and he shot himself in the small hours of the morning. It came out that -he had married the young woman a day or two before, and could not face -the exposure." Hugh paid a second tribute to the detective's marvellous -memory. "And now, Mr. Bryant, have you any knowledge of what has -become of them? People like that are never quite submerged: some day or -another, like the scum they are, they will be found floating on the top -again." - -Bryant shook his head. "No, sir, I cannot say I have. They have not -come under our observation again. Probably they are abroad under assumed -names, engaged in rascally business, of course, but doing it very much -_sub rosa_." - -"Mind you, at present I have very little to go on," said Hugh. "I -may have been deceived by a chance resemblance. But I have a strong -intuition I am on their track." - -Bryant's attitude became alert at once. "You say you have no evidence. -well, tell me your suspicions, and I will tell you what weight I attach -to them." - -"First of all, before I do that, let me know if you would recognise -Norah Burton and George Burton again, in spite of the passage of years. -Norah had fair hair; the one I am on the track of has dark hair. The man -I have not seen; this time he is a cousin, not a brother." - -"Ah!" Mr. Bryant drew a deep breath. "If they are the people you think, -sir, and I once saw them, no disguises would take me in. Now tell me all -you know." - -Thus exhorted, Murchison launched into a copious narrative. He explained -that on the night of the dinner with the Southleighs at Carlton House -Terrace, he had met for the first time the wife of his old friend Guy -Spencer, that he had detected in her an extraordinary likeness to Norah -Burton. The marriage had been hastily contracted; next to nothing was -known about the young woman's antecedents, apart from the very vague -details with which she furnished them. - -In the background was a cousin, by all accounts a very common fellow, -who had never visited the house since the marriage. Then there was the -episode of Tommy Esmond being found cheating at cards at the L'Estrange -flat, and Stella Keane's farewell meeting with him at Charing Cross -Station. - -Mr. Bryant made copious notes. When the narrative was finished he made -his comments. - -"There are, of course, coincidences that may mean nothing or a great -deal, Major Murchison. However, assuming that the lady in question is -not our old friend Norah Burton, she is evidently not a very estimable -member of society. She was in a shady set at Mrs. L'Estrange's, and -Tommy Esmond must have been a pretty close pal." - -"Well, I want you to take this case on for me, and find out what you -can." - -But Bryant shook his head. "Sorry, sir, but in my position I can't take -on private business. It is not a public matter, you see, unless you can -accuse them of anything." Hugh's face fell. "I forgot that. What am I to -do? Can you recommend me to a private detective?" - -"Half a dozen, sir, all keen fellows. But you can't stir very much -without me, in the first instance. You want me to identify them. Well, -I will go so far as that, in memory of the time when we were together -in the original job. Mrs. Spencer, you say, lives in Eaton Place. I will -keep a watch on that house till I see her coming out or going in. If I -agree that she was Norah Burton, we have got the first step. Now, what -do you know about this cousin, Dutton?" - -"Only that he is an outside stockbroker, with an office, or offices, in -the City." - -"Good." Mr. Bryant opened a telephone book and rapidly turned over -the pages. "Here he is, right enough--George Dutton--George, mark -you--share- and stock-broker, Bartholomew Court. Well, sir, to oblige -you, I will run down to the City and get a peep at Mr. George Dutton. -If my recollection agrees with yours, I will put you on to one of my -friends, and you can have the precious pair watched. If they are the -persons you think they are, you may depend upon it they won't keep long -apart; they will make opportunities of meeting each other. Anyway, -they must be pretty thick together, or he would not put up with being -excluded from the house." - -Hugh left with a great sense of relief. He felt that the matter was -in very capable hands. If Bryant told him that he was following a -will-o'-the-wisp, then the whole matter could drop. The fact of Mrs. -Spencer's relations with Tommy Esmond were hardly important enough to -justify him in disturbing his friend's domestic felicity. - -At the end of three days the detective rang him up. The message was -brief: "Come and see me." - -Bryant received him in his room. "Well, Major Murchison, your suspicions -are quite correct. I have been very close to the interesting pair. Mrs. -Spencer has camouflaged herself very well, but beyond doubt she is Norah -Burton. Our gaol-bird, George Burton, has been less particular. He -has not disguised himself at all; the few years have made little or no -impression on him. He has hid himself in the City, trusting that nobody -he ever knew would come across him." - -"Then I was right, after all, Mr. Bryant. And now what would you advise -me to do? This woman is the worst type of adventuress card-sharper all -through--at least a confederate, in Paris with Burton, in London with -Tommy Esmond. To be fair, we cannot say how much or how little she knew -of his forgery business." - -"Your idea is to turn her out of her husband's house, with or without -scandal?" queried the detective. - -"Without scandal, if possible. I would prefer that. I suppose you would -back me up by saying that you have recognised her and this scoundrel who -was yesterday her brother and is to-day her cousin?" - -"If you push me to it, I will, Major Murchison, for the sake of our old -acquaintance. But, for reasons which I stated last time we met, I don't -want to mix myself up in a purely private affair. The woman caught hold -of a fool in your friend Pomfret; she has caught hold of another equally -silly fool in your friend Mr. Spencer. Please forgive my blunt language, -but it is so, is it not?" - -"You are quite right, Bryant," groaned poor Hugh. "I seem fated to be -mixed up in these matters. At the present moment I have a little stunt -on, in which I don't require any help. A younger brother of mine has got -mixed up with a young harpy in the chorus of a third-rate theatre. The -young fool has written compromising letters to her. I am trying to buy -these letters. I need hardly tell you she is asking a high price. I -can't see her at my own place, for fear of my brother popping in. I have -taken rooms in a suburb where I see her to carry on the bargaining." - -Mr. Bryant raised his hands. "Well, sir, when a woman once begins to -twist a man round her little finger there is no knowing to what length -he will go." - -"Profoundly true, Mr. Bryant. Well, what do you advise me to do?" - -"For the moment, nothing. Get a little more evidence. When I watched -this couple, I took my old friend Parkinson with me. He knows them now. -Get him to watch them. He will tell you where they meet, and how often. -Here is his card. He will wait on you at your convenience." - -"I quite see," said Hugh, as he took the proffered card. "If I can prove -that they are meeting on the sly it will strengthen my hands, eh?" - -"That is the idea. Of course, at the moment, I don't know which you are -going to tackle first, the husband or the wife." - -"I can't say myself, my mind is in such a whirl. But I feel I must -avenge poor Jack Pomfret's death." - -Mr. Bryant rose. "You will excuse me, Major Murchison, but I have a very -busy day. Make use of Parkinson; he is as keen as mustard. And if it -comes to this, that you want me for purposes of identification, I am at -your disposal, in Eaton Place or elsewhere." - -Murchison left, but not before he had pressed a substantial cheque into -Bryant's somewhat reluctant hand. - -The next day he interviewed Parkinson, a lean, ascetic-looking man of -the true sleuth-hound breed. He took his instructions. - -"Give me a fortnight, if you please, sir; a week is hardly long enough. -I'll warrant, from what our friend Bryant has hinted to me, I will have -something to report." - -And he had. At the end of the fortnight he appeared. He produced a small -pocket-book. - -"I'm glad you didn't stipulate for only a week, sir; it was rather -a blank one--only one meeting. I expect the lady couldn't get away -comfortably. But the week after I was rewarded. Three meetings in that -second week." - -"Ah! where do they meet?" - -"At quite humble little restaurants and queer places in the City. I -fancy the bucket-shop business is not very flourishing just now. For on -the last two occasions when I followed them in, and sat at a table -where I could observe them, I saw Mrs. Spencer slip an envelope into his -hand." - -"Good Heavens!" cried Murchison in a tone of disgust. "She is keeping -this criminal with her husband's money." - -Mr. Parkinson shrugged his shoulders. "A common enough case, sir, if you -had seen as much of life as I have." - -Hugh shuddered. The woman was depraved to the core. She could leave her -house in Eaton Place, where she had been installed by her devoted and -trustful husband, and journey down to some obscure eating-house in the -City to meet this criminal who lived upon her bounty. - -Well, the chain of evidence was complete. Bryant would swear to the -identification, and Parkinson would swear that Mrs. Guy Spencer, once -Norah Burton, had met George Burton clandestinely four times in a -fortnight, and had supplied him with money. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -|It was in his blackest and most grim mood that Hugh Murchison walked -to Eaton Place, for the purpose of paying an afternoon call upon Mrs. -Spencer. He had not been near her since the night of the dinner, had -only left cards. And, very fortunately, he had not come across Guy in -the interval. - -On that particular night he had reproached himself with indiscretion. -He had availed himself of Fairfax's information to tax her with meeting -Tommie Esmond at Charing Cross Station on the morning of his flight to -the Continent. - -And at the moment that he had made that dramatic announcement, the -drawing-room door had opened to admit the unsuspecting husband. Hugh had -left shortly after dinner, on the plea of another engagement. Had Mrs. -Spencer tried to take the wind out of his sails by volunteering some -plausible explanation about her meeting with Esmond? She was a clever -young woman; she might try to forestall him. On the other hand, she -might sit tight till he forced her hand. Anyway, he was going to force -it to-day, armed with the new evidence that had been furnished to him. - -Mrs. Spencer was not looking well. Her eyes had lost their brightness, -her once charming smile was forced and mechanical. - -She rose as he was announced, and advanced to him with outstretched -hands, with an exaggerated air of cordiality. - -"I thought you had forgotten us." She seated herself on the Chesterfield -and motioned him to sit beside her. "Major Murchison, I fear I was a -little rude to you the other night, you remember, just before Guy came -in." She clasped her hands nervously together. "I do trust we are going -to be friends." - -Hugh looked at her grimly. He had no compassion for this shameless -adventuress who had driven the poor foolish Pomfret to his grave, who -had ensnared Guy Spencer, a man of stronger fibre, but equally powerless -in the hands of an unscrupulous woman. - -"Mrs. Spencer--to call you by one of the many names by which you are -known--we were not friends the last time I was at this house. To-day we -are bitter enemies." - -"What do you mean?" she faltered. "You are speaking in riddles. Why -should you, the old friend of my husband, be the bitter enemy of his -innocent wife?" - -"His innocent wife!" repeated Hugh sternly. "Dare you look me in the -face and say that my name, even if you fail to recognise me after these -years, does not recall to you certain tragic episodes at Blankfield?" - -"I know nothing of Blankfield." The voice was low but very unsteady. -"You put that question to me the other night in a roundabout sort of -way. My answer is the same--I know nothing of Blankfield." - -There was a long pause. Hugh continued to look at her with his steady -and disconcerting gaze. Suddenly she rose, and paced restlessly up and -down the long drawing-room. - -"Major Murchison, put your cards on the table. You have come into this -house, an old friend of my husband's; I have done my best to make you -welcome. But you have some spite against me. Of what do you accuse me?" - -"I will put my cards on the table," answered Hugh in his inflexible -voice. "On the night I met you at Carlton House Terrace I had my -suspicions; no two women could be so exactly alike. Since that night -I have been picking up information here and there. I have now got a -complete chain of evidence." - -"Evidence of what?" she gasped, still pursuing her restless walk up and -down the room. "Of my having met Tommie Esmond at Charing Cross Station? -would you like to hear the true history of that?" - -"I shall be pleased to hear any explanation you like to offer, with the -reservation that I must please myself as to whether I accept it or not." - -"You are very hard, Major Murchison. As you are not prepared to believe -me, perhaps it would be better if I did not embark on this history. But -Tommie Esmond is really my uncle, my mother's brother. When I was in -low water he was very kind to me. I could not turn my back on him in -his distress." She spoke with sudden passion. "Of course, you, with your -pharisaical way of looking at things, would say I should have forgotten -all his previous kindness." - -"The Tommie Esmond affair is, comparatively, a trivial one, Mrs. -Spencer. I am coming in a moment to graver issues. You still say that -the name of Murchison conveys nothing to you. Oh, think well before you -answer! Remember, I have told you I have overwhelming evidence. And, -believe me, the task I have set out upon is far from a welcome one." - -"I still say that the name of Murchison conveys nothing to me." She -spoke with a certain air of assurance, but he could see that she was -quivering all over. - -"Carry your memory back to that night at Blankfield when your so-called -brother, George Burton, was arrested on a charge of forgery. You had -been his decoy and accomplice in a gambling saloon in Paris. You had -inveigled my poor friend, Jack Pomfret, into a clandestine marriage a -few days before. Jack, unable to survive his folly and disgrace, blew -his brains out. If not in the eyes of the law, you were, morally, a -murderess." - -"You are mad, raving mad!" she cried, but her voice seemed strangled as -she made the bold denial. - -"Not mad, Mrs. Spencer, but very sane, as I will show you in a few -seconds. As I told you, I recognised you that night at the South-leigh -dinner-party, in spite of the pains you had taken to camouflage -yourself. But I waited for corroborative evidence. The detective who -arrested your so-called brother, George Burton, has seen you and is -prepared to swear to your identity as Norah Burton." - -Then suddenly she gave way, fell on her knees before him, and stretched -out appealing hands. - -"Oh, you are very clever; I see you have found it all out. But you will -be merciful, you will not drive an unhappy woman to despair, just when -she has got into safe harbour. Will you be kind enough to listen to my -miserable history?" - -"I will listen to anything you have got to say." - -"My childhood and girlhood were most wretched and unhappy. At a time -when most girls are tasting the sweets and joys of life, I had to live -by my wits. I fell under the influence of a good-natured, but very -wicked man." - -"In other words, George Burton?" queried Hugh. - -"In other words, George Burton," she repeated in the low, strangled -voice that did not move Hugh very much. "I was starving when he met me -and took me up. He was genuinely sorry for me. Mind you, I knew nothing -of his nefarious schemes. He hid those very carefully away from me." - -"But you were his decoy, if not his confederate, in the gambling saloon -in Paris?" - -"His decoy, perhaps, unconsciously, but never his confederate." - -"And when did Tommie Esmond appear on the scene?" queried Hugh. - -"Oh, much later. George got into low water and had not enough for -himself. I then hunted up my uncle, who received me with open arms." - -Hugh was developing the instincts of a crossexaminer. "And Tommie -Esmond, I suppose, introduced you to the card-sharping crew at the -Elsinore flat, and you were launched as the cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, -who presided over this delectable establishment?" - -"I was a distant cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange on my dear mother's side," -was the answer. - -She was lying terribly, he felt assured. But he had a card or two up his -sleeve yet. Still, it was wise to see how far she would go. - -"And when did you part with the so-called brother, George Burton?" - -"Oh, very shortly after he came out of prison. I had one interview with -him; I could not do less after his kindness to me. And in the meantime I -had hunted up poor old Tommie Esmond." - -"And what did you do after that night at Blankfield? I think you cleared -out the next day. I heard you had paid everything up." - -"Thank Heaven, yes. There was just a little money left. My life after -that was a nightmare. Amongst other humiliations, I was a waitress in -a tea-shop." A smile of vanity broke over the charming face. "The wages -were very small, but I got a lot of tips." Perhaps in this particular -instance she was not lying, if it was true that she had been in a -tea-shop at all. - -There was a little pause, and then Murchison spoke in his stern, -inflexible voice: - -"And how long is it since you saw George Burton?" - -She had answered the question before, but he was hoping to entrap her -into some unguarded admission. He could see that she was considerably -thrown oft her balance, clever and ready as she was, by the extent of -his knowledge. - -"I told you just now, soon after he came out of prison." - -And then Hugh rose in his wrath. And then she, seeing in his face that -he had another and a stronger card to play, got up from her kneeling -position and watched him with an agonised countenance. - -"I am sorry to use such harsh words to a woman, even such a woman as you -are, Mrs. Spencer. But when you say that you are lying miserably, and -you know it as well as I do." Her face went livid. She assumed a tone of -indignation, but her voice died away in a sob. "How dare you say that?" - -"I am not the sort of man to make a statement unless I can prove it up -to the hilt. Your so-called cousin, George Dutton, keeps a bucket-shop -in the City; from certain evidence in my possession, I should say it was -not a very paying business." - -Stella did not attempt to reply to this last shot, but she recognised -that he had gone about the business very thoroughly. - -"George Dutton, the bucket-shop keeper, is George Burton, the forger, -come to life again, still, I take it, on the same criminal tack, perhaps -in a lesser degree. Do you admit," he cried vehemently, "that George -Burton and George Dutton are one and the same?" - -"Yes, since you seem to have proof, I admit it," was the somewhat sullen -answer. - -"That is as well; it clears the ground, up to a certain point. You say -you parted from Burton soon after his release from prison, and have not -seen him since. When was that--how long ago? You met him frequently as -George Dutton at Elsinore Gardens." - -The courage of despair seemed to come to her, and she ceased to tremble. -"I will answer no more questions. Tell me what you allege and I will -admit or deny. Of course, you have employed a detective; you have had me -watched." - -"Of course. I should not presume to cope single-handed with a clever -woman like yourself. You have met George Dutton, alias George Burton, -four times within the last fortnight at obscure restaurants in the City, -and there is a strong presumption that you were handing to him envelopes -containing money." - -She seemed now to recognise that the game was up. Her self-possession -returned to her. She sat down, and motioned to him to seat himself. - -"You are much too clever for me, Major Murchison. You have handled the -matter very well, so well that you have turned your vague suspicions -into absolute certainty. Well, what action are you going to take? As a -matter of course, you intend to turn me out of my husband's house?" - -"If not at the moment, very speedily. You will admit, I think, with -your clever brain, that you should not remain under the roof of such an -honourable English, gentleman as he is a day longer than necessary." - -"I will admit it, from your point of view, if you like. Oh, believe me, -I can see your side," replied this remarkable young woman. "But you will -forgive me, Major Murchison, if I say that, from my point of view, I -would have preferred that you had never been born. Guy is very happy; he -believes in me and trusts me. It will be a great blow to him as to me." - -"I know. I wish it were in my power to spare him this misery. But, in -common honesty, I cannot." - -"And have you thought of what is to become of me when I am turned out of -my husband's house?" she inquired in a composed voice. Her adroit mind -had evidently adapted itself to the altered circumstances, and was now -busied in turning them, as far as possible, to her own advantage. - -"You have George Dutton to fall back upon, also Tommie Esmond," was -Murchison's retort. - -She snapped her fingers in a fashion that was almost vulgar, and she was -so free from vulgar actions. - -"George is thankful that I can, from time to time, fling him a ten-pound -note; his luck has deserted him. Tommie Esmond, I believe, saved a bit -out of the wreck, but he has not more than enough to keep body and soul -together." - -"Guy is not a man to behave ungenerously, however deeply he has been -wronged," said Hugh, after he had reflected a few moments. He added more -hesitatingly, "And if Guy should take an obdurate attitude, it is -possible I might come to your assistance. I have hunted you down, but I -do not want to drive you into the gutter." - -"But a man must support his wife, even if her past has not been quite so -respectable as it might have been," she cried defiantly. - -Hugh directed upon her a searching look. "Mrs. Spencer, it is in my mind -that you may not be Guy's wife after all. If I probed a little deeper, -I might get at your real relations with this George Dutton, or rather -Burton." - -"Oh, this time you are really pursuing a will-o'-the-wisp, I assure -you. George has never been anything to me but brother or cousin, as the -occasion demanded." - -She paused a second, and there was a terrified look in her eyes as she -added, "But even if your suspicions were correct, which they are not, -you would not go back from your own promise. If Guy proved obdurate, you -would not drive me to the gutter. You promised me that." - -"I shall keep my promise, Mrs. Spencer, and I will give it you in -writing, if you wish." - -"It would be as well. And you will want something from me in writing -also, I expect," she concluded shrewdly. - -"Certainly I shall," said Hugh steadily. "I shall draw up a full -confession for you to sign, to prevent you from ever troubling your -husband again--if, as I suggested just now, he is your husband." - -Mrs. Spencer rose. It seemed that there was a sense of relief in the -fact that the interview was ending so amicably. - -"I would have preferred to remain as I am, but, on the whole, the life -doesn't suit me, luxurious as it is. I am very fond of Guy really, he -has been so good to me, but I have alienated him from his friends. And -I have to sit here hour after hour by myself, with only my thoughts for -company." - -"Let us say one week from now I will have that confession ready to -sign." - -"And you will bring it here?" suggested Stella. - -"I think not. It will take some time to read through, and we might be -interrupted," was Hugh's answer. - -"At your hotel, then, I suppose?" was the young woman's next suggestion. - -"The same objection applies." - -He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper. "Meet me there this -day week at the hour I have appointed. Nobody will interrupt us, I will -take care of that." - -And Mrs. Spencer lay awake half the night, working out a problem that -had suggested itself to her in a flash. - -The next day she lunched with George Dutton in the City. The detective -might be watching her, but did it matter? whatever happened at the end -of the week, she had burned her boats. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -|Two months had elapsed since the meeting between Major Murchison and -Stella Spencer, recorded in the last chapter. - -A handsome, well-set-up man of about thirty was travelling up from -Manchester to London. The reason of his journey was his desire to -visit his sister, Caroline Masters, who occupied a small flat in the -neighbourhood of King's Cross. - -Up to a short time ago this handsome, well-set-up man had been leading a -very quiet life in the busy city of Manchester. He was an electrician -by trade, and a very clever one. He was civil, well-spoken, intelligent -beyond his station, but he had not forgathered much with his -fellow-workers, had kept himself very much to himself. And yet, strange -to say, this self-isolation had not provoked suspicion or resentment on -the part of his daily associates. - -Reginald Davis, for such was his name, had been unjustly suspected of -murder, and the police had been hot on his track. Then had come the -suicide in No. 10 Cathcart Square, and his sister, Caroline Masters, had -identified the dead body as that of her brother. - -Caroline Masters had always been a plucky, resourceful girl, and devoted -to him. The dead man, no doubt, bore some resemblance to himself, -and she had taken advantage of the opportunity to swear to a false -identification, and remove from him the sleepless vigilance of the -police. This much she had conveyed to him in a guarded letter. - -Reginald Davis, the man falsely accused of murder, was dead in the eyes -of the law: in a sense, he had nothing further to fear. But at the same -time, caution must be observed. The few friends he had were in London; -at any time he might run across one or more of them. So, taking another -name, he had hidden himself in Manchester, and corresponded secretly -with the one of the two sisters he could trust, Caroline Masters. - -And then, suddenly, the burden had been lifted from his soul. There was -a small paragraph in the evening newspapers, afterwards reproduced in -the morning ones, which told him that he need not skulk through the -world any longer. - -A man lying under sentence of death for a brutal murder and without hope -of reprieve, had confessed to the crime of which Davis had been falsely -accused. In the paragraph, which was, of course, essentially the same -in all the papers, were a few words of sympathy for the unfortunate -Reginald Davis who had stolen into No. 10 Cathcart Square and committed -suicide, under a sense of abject terror. The police had carefully -investigated the statements of the condemned man, with the result that -they found the late Reginald Davis absolutely innocent. - -The late Reginald Davis, very alive and well, knocked at the door of -his sister's flat. She had been apprised of his coming, and greeted him -affectionately. She sat him down before a well-cooked supper. He was -hungry and ate heartily. She did not disturb him with much conversation -till he had finished. Then she spoke. - -"Well, Reggie, that was a bit of luck indeed." She was, of course, -alluding to the confession of the real murderer. "Now you are as free as -air. You were always a bit of a bad egg, old boy, but never a criminal -to that extent." - -"No, hang it all, I am not particular in a general way, but murder -was not in my line," he answered briefly. "It was hard lines to get -scot-free of the other things, and then to be suspected of that at the -end." - -He looked at her admiringly. "By Jove! Carrie, you were always the -cleverest of the lot of us. That was a brain-wave of yours, walking in -and identifying me as the suicide." Mrs. Masters smiled appreciatively. -"Yes, it came to me in a flash. I read the account in the papers. It -struck me I might do something useful. I went up to the court with the -tale of a missing brother. I saw the body; the poor creature might have -been your twin. Of course, I swore it was you, and gave you a new lease -of life." She added severely, "I hope you have taken advantage of what -I did, and become a reformed character." Davis spoke very gravely. "Yes, -Carrie, I swear to you I have. That shock was the making of me. I have -lain very low, worked hard, and put by money." - -He pulled out an envelope from his breastpocket, and thrust it into her -hand; it was full of one-pound notes. - -"Fifty of the best, old girl, for a little nest-egg. I have not -forgotten my best pal, you see." - -The tears came into Mrs. Masters' eyes. He had been a bad egg, but he -had a good heart at bottom. - -"That is very sweet of you, Reggie; it will come in very useful. And now -to go back for a moment to Cathart Square. Who was the poor devil -who killed himself there? He was as like you as two peas are like each -other." - -"I think we have got to find that out," said Reginald Davis gravely. -"Nor, reading the account in the papers, am I quite sure that it was a -suicide." - -"But that was the verdict," interrupted the sister. - -"I know, but there are peculiar things about the case. Letters addressed -to Reginald Davis were found on him; there was a letter signed Reginald -Davis, addressed to the Coroner, announcing his intention to commit -suicide. Those letters had been placed there by the person who murdered -him, and that person who murdered him was somebody who knew me, unless -it was the accidental taking of a common name." - -"But the razor was clutched in his hand, Reggie!" - -"Quite easy," replied Davis, who, if not a murderer himself, could -easily project himself, apparently, into the mind of one. "We will -assume, for the moment, it was a man. He cut the poor devil's throat, -and then thrust the razor into his stiffening hand, to convey the idea -of suicide." - -"It might be," agreed Mrs. Masters. - -"Well, Carrie, one thing I have fixed on, and it is one of the things -for which I have come up. I go to Scotland Yard to-morrow, tell them -straight I am Reginald Davis, without a stain upon my character, explain -to them that you were misled by a close resemblance. We will have that -body exhumed. I am firmly convinced it was a murder." - -"Let sleeping dogs lie, Reggie," advised Mrs. Masters, who had a horror -of the law and its subtle ways. "Never mind who was the poor devil who -was found there, whether he was murdered or committed suicide. It is no -affair of yours." - -"It is an affair of mine in this way," replied Davis in a dogged tone. -"The person who murdered the poor devil, as you call him, knew something -about me, and took a liberty with my name." - -"It served you a good turn, Reggie, anyway." - -"I know; I admit that. But the murderer did not know he was doing me, -thanks to you, a good turn when he killed the other fellow." - -Mrs. Masters thought deeply for a few moments. "Reggie, you have been a -very bad egg, I am sure. I shall never guess a quarter of what you have -been guilty of." - -He laid his hand affectionately on her arm. "Well for you, old girl, you -can't. That is all past and done with. By the way, that letter found on -the poor chap, announcing his intention to commit suicide, did they ask -you to identify my handwriting? Of course, the others addressed to him -didn't matter much. Anybody could have written them. But my letter was a -forgery. Did they ask you to identify that particular letter?" - -"They did, Reggie, and my brain was in such a whirl that I could hardly -read it. I said that I believed it was in your handwriting. It was -certainly very like, although, as you can imagine, I looked at it -through a sort of mist. Anyway, it was as like your handwriting as the -dead man was like you." Davis ruminated for a few moments. "That letter -was forged by somebody who knew me and could imitate my hand to a -nicety. I am thinking of all the wrong'uns I knew in the old days. I -think I can fix him." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Masters breathlessly. She was capable of great daring -in the cause and the service of those she loved, but she was not -habituated to the ways of hardened criminals. - -"A man I was a bit associated with in the old days; luckily he didn't -drag me in far enough. He was an expert forger. We used to call him -'George the Penman.'" - -Mrs. Masters shuddered. "Oh, you poor weak soul, you were so near it as -that?" - -"Very near, Carrie. The shock of the false accusation of murder pulled -me up straight. I saw where I was drifting, and made up my mind that -the straight path was the surest." At the moment that Mr. Davis gave -utterance to this honourable sentiment there was a ring at the bell. - -Mrs. Masters rose at once. "It is Iris. I dropped her a note to say you -were coming. She will be so pleased to see you." - -There floated into the small sitting-room a very dainty and ethereal -figure, Miss Iris Deane, a charming member of the chorus at the -Frivolity Theatre. - -She flung her arms round the neck of her handsome brother. "Oh Reggie, -dear, what a treat to see you! And all this dreadful thing is lifted -from you." - -Iris was not his favourite sister. She was clever in a worldly way, and -had made good. But she had not the sterling loyalty of Caroline. - -Davis gently checked her enthusiasm. "And how have you been getting on, -Iris? Always floating on the top as usual?" - -Miss Iris showed her dimples. "Always floating on the top, as you -say, dear old boy. A silly, soft chap fell in love with me; wrote most -impassioned love-letters. Well, he was too soppy for me to care much -about him, and when his rich brother came along, offering me a price for -his love-letters, I can tell you I just jumped at the chance." - -"Did you get a good price?" queried her brother. - -"I stuck out for ten thousand," explained the capable Iris; "but this -chap was a good bargainer, and I let them go at seven. It was better on -the whole. If I had married Roddie, I should have been so fed-up in a -month that I should have run away from him, and then Heaven knows where -I might have ended." - -Davis looked at his sister approvingly. There was enough of the old Adam -left in him to entertain a slight envy of his sister's chances. Seven -thousand pounds, a little fortune in itself, was a good bit of work, a -handsome reward for the display of her dimples. - -"Roddie who, dear? You might tell us his other name," queried Mrs. -Masters, who perhaps was also smitten with a sense of envy. - -"That's telling," answered the sprightly Iris, who was not given to be -too frank about her own affairs. "But if either of you two dear things -want a little ready, apply to me. Of course, you will remember I have -got to take care of myself, to make provision for my old age." - -Davis and Carrie exchanged glances. They knew the volatile Iris of old. -As a child she had always been mean and grasping. Not much of the seven -thousand would come their way, if they were on the verge of starvation. - -Carrie spoke in cold accents. "You are really too generous, Iris. But -we shall not have to trespass upon your generosity. I have enough for my -humble wants. And Reggie has been able to put by, so much so that he has -been kind enough to make me a very handsome money present to-night." - -"Dear old Reggie," said the sweetly smiling Iris. "I am so glad you have -made good." - -And then Davis spoke: "Thanks, in great part, to Carrie, who told that -splendid lie about the suicide, or murder, at 10 Cathcart Square. You -remember that, of course?" - -"Suicide, wasn't it?" said Iris, but her cheek had grown a little pale. - -"I don't think so. There was a forged letter purporting to be written by -me. I am going to Scotland Yard to-morrow, stating frankly who I am, -and urging them to exhume the body. We will find out who the man, buried -under the name of Reginald Davis, really was." - -And then the agitation of his younger sister became extreme. She -clutched convulsively at his arm. - -"Reggie, you will not do this. What does it matter to you who the man -was? Go under some other name, and let sleeping dogs lie." Unconsciously -she had used the same expression as Mrs. Masters, but from different -motives. - -"I have been under a different name for a longer time than I care to -remember," answered Davis doggedly. "I have a fancy to resume my own, -and make a clean breast of it to the police. They have nothing else to -charge me with." - -Iris fell on her knees, and the tears rained down her cheeks. - -"For my sake, Reggie, if not for your own." - -"And why for your sake? Tell us what you mean," demanded her brother -sternly. - -And Iris spoke as clearly as she could speak amidst her strangled sobs. - -"If you try and unearth that mystery at Cathcart Square, I might be -dragged in, and it might be very awkward for me." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -|Davis directed a keen glance at his elder sister over the bowed head of -Iris. The younger woman was by no means of an emotional nature. Light, -frivolous and volatile, she had danced through life, and, on the whole, -had had a good time. One could not picture her in a tragic mood. - -And yet, she was the personification of deep emotion now. She could -hardly speak for those convulsive sobs, and in her frightened eyes -there was a deep and haunting terror. At what point, and through what -circumstances, had tragedy touched this little selfish, self-centred -butterfly, gifted with a certain amount of cunning and sharpness, but -utterly brainless. - -"What do you know of No. 10 Cathcart Square, except what you gleaned -from the newspapers?" demanded her brother sternly. "How can you be -implicated in the murder of the unknown man whom Carrie mistook for me?" - -"But Carrie did not mistake him for you," wailed Iris. "She told me -afterwards that the idea suggested itself in a flash, and when she -read the newspaper she was not sure whether it was you who had crept in -there, according to the evidence, and made away with yourself, through -fear of the police." - -"Leave Carrie out of it for the moment," said Davis. "Whatever she did -was well thought out. Of course, we both know her object was to identify -me, if possible, and put Scotland Yard off the scent. What we want to -know is, how did you come to be acquainted with the house? what do you -mean by saying that, if further investigations are made, you might be -dragged in?" - -"I was there on four occasions: on the last a few days before the -murder, or suicide, whatever it was." - -Davis gasped, and Carrie lifted her hands in horror. What did this -confession mean? It was impossible that this slim, weak girl had herself -been the murderess, could have killed a big, powerful man of the same -build as the supposed Davis, with those slim, weak hands. - -She saw the horror in their faces, and hastened to reassure them. "Oh -no, not that, I swear to you. I am no more a murderess than you were a -murderer, Reggie. But if the whole thing is raked up, and the man whom -I believe it to be, accurately identified this time, things might look -very black for me." - -Davis lifted her from her kneeling position, and placed her in an -easy-chair. "Calm yourself, and tell us the whole story of why and how -you came to be in Cathcart Square at all." - -Iris waited a few moments till the convulsive sobbing ceased. She spoke -with little occasional gasps, but it was very evident it was a relief to -unbosom herself. - -"It is a very long story," she began tremulously. - -"If the telling of it lasts till midnight, we must have it," said her -brother in an inflexible voice. - -And compelled by his resolute manner, the girl, whom they had always -regarded as a frivolous butterfly, embarked upon her strange and -thrilling narrative. - -"It all arose out of the sale of those letters I spoke to you about. -Carrie just now asked me the name of the man who wrote them. Well, I -didn't get further than Roddie, which doesn't carry you very far. If it -had not been for your threat of going to Scotland Yard, I should have -stopped at that. A still tongue makes a wise head, you know." - -They could quite believe that. In spite of her ceaseless chatter, Iris -had always been very reticent about her own affairs. She had seen next -to nothing of her brother for a few years, not very much of Carrie -Masters. And, on these occasions, she had always avoided, in a marked -manner, any allusion to her private affairs. - -"I told you of a soppy young chap who started to make love to me last -year. I didn't care a snap for him, but he was very persistent, and at -last wrote me most urgent letters imploring me to be his wife. His full -name was Roderick Murchison, a member of the great brewing family; his -father has been dead for some time, he died during the war, and Roddie -came in for tons of money, although he was not the eldest son. I don't -know if you have ever heard of him?" - -No, neither Davis nor Carrie had known of the existence of such a young -man. They had a hazy idea that there was a big brewing firm of that -name, that was all. - -"Well, as I say, I didn't care a snap for him, although he was awfully -good and generous, overwhelmed me with, all kinds of lovely presents: -rings, bracelets, fur coats, etc. In our life, you know, one accepts -these things from the mugs who are gone on us without attaching very -much importance to the fact." - -It was evident that Miss Iris had struck out her own line of life, and -made a very good thing out of it. - -"Well, then, Roddie began to grow desperate, and declared he couldn't -live without me. It was all so genuine that at last I began to think -seriously of it. There were tons of money, and although I didn't cotton -much to the sort of life I should have to lead as his wife, still there -were worse things than being Mrs. Roderick Murchison, with the future -well assured, and a handsome settlement." - -Davis and his elder sister exchanged wondering glances. So this -butterfly little girl, whom they had always regarded as rather shallow -and feather-brained, had had this wonderful chance of marrying a -gentleman and a rich man. - -"It was difficult to bring myself up to the scratch, in spite of the -advantages, for he was so soft and soppy that he irritated me in a -thousand-and-one ways, and I knew in a very short time I should grow to -hate and despise him. Then one night, after a very excellent champagne -supper at the 'Excelsior,' he got me in a yielding mood, and I promised -to marry him." - -Brother and sister could only marvel at the girl's extraordinary good -fortune, reluctant as she seemed to avail herself of it. - -"He told me that before he went to bed that night he wrote to his family -acquainting them with the news, anticipating fully their objections, -but expressing his strong determination to brook no interference or -remonstrance. You see he was his own master, nobody could take his money -away from him, and he didn't care whether his relatives were offended or -not." - -"And how did the family take it?" queried Davis. - -"I am coming to that," replied Iris. She was growing much calmer now. It -was a relief to unburden her secret to an audience whom she could trust. -For she was sure that neither her brother nor sister would ever allow -her to put herself into real danger. - -"I am coming to that," she repeated. "A few days after he had written -those letters, one to his widowed mother, one to his elder brother, who -had inherited the bulk of the big fortune, the elder brother called upon -me in my flat. He was a very handsome, well-set-up man, although he had -been through a good deal in the war. He was very like you, Reggie." - -"Ah," ejaculated Mr. Davis. He looked at Carrie, keenly watching her -sister, with a glance that suggested they would soon be coming to the -real pith of this rambling confession. - -"He begged the favour of a short conversation. He was perfectly open and -above-board. He told me straight he was Roddie's elder brother, and that -his name was Hugh Murchison. He pointed out to me very kindly that -his brother was an impetuous young ass--a judgment which I privately -endorsed--that Roddie had been infatuated, in his short day, with quite -a number of other girls, although, perhaps, not to the same extent -as with me." Iris, getting back rapidly into her light mind, let her -volatile and easily impressed nature peep out in her next words. - -"Oh, Hugh Murchison was a darling, so quiet, so sensible, and so strong. -If he had been fool enough to ask me to marry him, I would not have -given him up for seven thousand pounds." - -"But you were prepared to chuck Roddie for that?" suggested her brother -quietly. - -"I think I let him go a bit too cheap," answered the fair Iris in -a reflective voice. "Many girls have got more than I asked for -compromising a breach of promise. But to tell the absolute truth, Hugh -Murchison hypnotised me a bit. He was so quiet and yet so strong that I -felt he could twist me round his little finger." - -"We want to get to Cathcart Square," interjected Davis a little -impatiently. "We don't seem to be near it yet." - -"I must tell my story my own way, it is no use driving me," replied -Iris, pouting a little. "Well, as I tell you, he called that day at my -flat--that was the beginning of negotiations. Where were we to meet -to discuss details? I couldn't have him at my flat, because Roddie was -always popping in and out. He couldn't have me at his hotel, because -nobody knew whom we might come across, and Roddie was always coming -there. He said he would think out a plan and telephone or wire me." - -"Ah," said Carrie, with a sigh of relief: she was a very practical -person. "Now, I suppose we are coming to it." - -Iris, heedless of the interruption, went on with her story. - -"Next day he 'phoned me up, and after ascertaining that I was quite -alone, told me to meet him at 10 Cathcart Square to resume our -conversation." - -"Why, in the name of all that is wonderful----" began Reginald Davis, -but his sister motioned him to silence. - -"Don't interrupt, please, you will know everything in a few minutes. I -went to No. 10 Cathcart Square at the time appointed. He opened the -door himself. It was a big house in an old-fashioned square, ages old, I -should say, and in the front court was an agent's board, intimating that -this particular house was to let, furnished." - -"I know Cathcart Square well, it's in an old-world quarter of -Kensington," interrupted Davis. He added grimly, "I know it well, -although I did not have the misfortune to commit suicide there." - -"He told me a very funny story. The afternoon of the day before, he had -been up to Kensington to visit an old nurse of the family who lived -near by. He had strolled round to Cathcart Square to fill up an idle -half-hour. He had been struck by the appearance of the house, and -loitered before it, when suddenly the door opened, and a somewhat -bibulous-looking caretaker came out." - -Davis indulged in a sigh of relief. "We are really coming to it now, -then?" - -"Yes, you are coming to it. He told me a sudden idea had occurred to -him. Here would be a quiet little spot for our meetings, a place where -Roddie would never dream of following us. He accosted the caretaker, -evidently a drunken and corrupt creature. He explained that he wanted to -rent a couple of rooms where he could receive a certain visitor he was -expecting in the course of the next week or fortnight. It was no -use going to the house agents for that, they would turn down such a -proposition. The caretaker, with a couple of five-pound notes in his -hand, took an intelligent view of the situation. He gave Hugh a key, -and intimated that, if he had sufficient notice, he would make himself -scarce on the occasions when the visitor was expected." - -"Of all the mad things----" began Davis, but his sister for the second -time motioned her brother to silence. - -"Not quite so mad as you think. I fancy I can see into his mind. We -could have met at a dozen different restaurants in London, but Roddie -was here, there and everywhere: at any moment he might have come across -us. He would never get as far as Kensington." David nodded his sagacious -head. "I think I see. Go on." - -"I met him there, in all four times, the last meeting was a few days -before the tragedy." - -"And what took place at that meeting?" - -"He paid me the seven thousand pounds in notes. I signed a paper -agreeing to give Roddie up. I carried out my bargain. I wrote Roddie -that same night, giving him his dismissal, and assuring him that nothing -he could urge would induce me to reconsider my determination. He sent me -frantic telegrams the next day, but I replied to the same effect. After -taking his seven thousand pounds, I could not break faith with Hugh, -could I?" - -Davis was not quite sure that Iris would not break faith with anybody if -it suited her purpose. But clearly Hugh Murchison had subjugated her to -the extent of respecting an honourable bargain. No doubt she had fallen -in love with him, so far as a person of her shallow temperament could -fall in love. - -"And what has become of Roddie?" - -"I don't know, and I don't care. He has bored me to extinction for over -nine months. I am glad to be shut of him." - -Davis put a question. "You say Hugh Murchison paid you in notes. What -have you done with them? His bank will have the numbers." - -"Will they?" cried Iris, the frightened look again coming into her eyes; -she knew nothing of business methods. "I paid them into my own account. -Now, you see, if you rake this up I might be implicated." - -"Your opinion is, then, that the man found in No. 10 Cathcart Square was -Hugh Murchison?" - -"I am as nearly sure as I can be, after reading the caretaker's -evidence. He had some other stunt on beside my own. I was not the only -visitor he received." - -Davis thought deeply before he spoke. "If I have him dug up, and he is -identified by those who know him, a lot will come to light. Your notes -will be traced, for one thing." - -"I am afraid of everything, Reggie. For the love of Heaven, let him rest -where he is." Caroline Masters breathed softly to herself. "You were -half in love with him, or perhaps three-quarters, and you don't want to -know the real truth. Oh, you miserable little, paltry soul!" - -And then a sudden thought came to Davis. "Now, Iris, you could never -think very clearly about things when they got a little bit complicated. -You are quite sure the last occasion on which you saw him was a few days -before the discovery of the body?" - -"I will swear to it," cried Iris firmly. - -"The date of his cheque, which the Bank has, will show that. He probably -cashed it himself on the day he paid you, any way the day before. Now, -on the day preceding and the day following that tragedy, can you prove -where you were?" - -Iris began to see light. "Of course I can. The day after I had the -notes, I got up a sprained ankle, an obliging doctor, an old (or rather -young) friend of mine, sent a certificate to the theatre. I motored down -to Brighton with Johnny Lascelles--who, by the way, used to make Roddie -fearfully jealous. We joined a jolly little party at 'The Old Ship.' I -came back the day after the discovery in Cathcart Square." - -Davis rose and gave a great shout: "You have witnesses who can swear to -that?" - -"Of course," answered Iris, not even yet comprehending the full drift of -the question. "Johnny Lascelles motored me there and drove me back. Then -there was Cissy Monteith, Katie Havard, Jack Legard and others who were -with me all the time." - -"You silly little idiot," cried Reginald Davis. "And what the deuce do -you mean by saying that you might be implicated?" - -"The notes," she faltered. "My meeting him alone in that empty house. -They might suggest I murdered him, if you say he was murdered." - -Davis smote his forehead in impotent anger at her denseness. "How could -you have murdered him when you were at Brighton all the time?" - -He smote the palms of his hands together. - -"I will find out who the dead man was, and also the man who forged my -name to that letter to the Coroner." - -He turned to his sister: "As for you, young woman, it may be you will -have a bad quarter of an hour, if it all comes out about Roddie. But -never mind, you will have a splendid advertisement. The next bunch of -letters you get hold of, the price will be twice seven thousand pounds." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -|The following morning Reginald Davis, resolved to unearth the mystery -of 10 Cath-cart Square, stood in the private room of Mr. Bryant of -Scotland Yard. - -He had easily overcome his younger sister's scruples, her terror at -having to give evidence in a court of justice, and being forced to -disclose certain transactions not too creditable to herself. She had -come to see from the point of view artfully suggested by Davis, that, on -the whole, it would be a very good advertisement. It might even take -her from her place in the chorus to a small acting part, and then her -fortune would be made. She might be able to come across another rich man -whom she would like well enough to marry, a man quite different from the -somewhat invertebrate Roddie. - -Bryant looked up from his papers, and regarded the young man with his -keen and steady gaze. Davis's good looks, and frank air impressed him -favourably. - -"Well, my man, what do you want with me? I don't usually see strangers -who approach me in such a mysterious fashion. You would neither state -your name nor business, only said vaguely that you wanted to interview -me on a matter of great urgency." - -"I wished to keep my business for your private ear, sir. Can you throw -your mind back to a certain gruesome affair that happened at 10 Cathcart -Square?" - -"Certainly, although I was not in charge of the matter. The man was -identified as Reginald Davis, who was wanted on a charge of murder, -the circumstantial evidence against him being very strong; the verdict -returned was one of suicide. If I recollect rightly, he had broken a -pane of glass in one of the back windows of the house, unhasped the -latch of the window, and cut his throat upstairs after he got inside. -The facts were accepted at the time as conclusive evidence of his -guilt." - -"And you recollect, sir, what happened a short time ago with regard to -the crime of which Reginald Davis was accused?" - -"Perfectly. The real criminal has confessed. And this poor devil, -overwhelmed no doubt by the circumstantial evidence which told so -strongly against him, acted too hastily." - -"If the police had caught him, he would probably have been hanged by -now," said Davis a little bitterly. - -Mr. Bryant looked a little uneasy. "I should say it is more than -probable from what I remember of the case; well, you know, the law makes -mistakes at times, I will admit." - -"And juries at inquests make mistakes at times, also," remarked Davis -quietly. "This particular jury made a mistake. The dead man was no more -Reginald Davis than you are." - -It was not easy to startle Mr. Bryant, he had been through too many -strange experiences for that, but he exhibited a mild surprise as he put -the question: "And what authority have you for saying that?" - -"I think you will admit the best. I who stand before you am the Reginald -Davis who was wanted on that false charge of murder, and branded by that -intelligent jury as a suicide." - -"You can prove this, of course. I mean that you are the real Reginald -Davis." - -"Of course I can, sir; I can bring a dozen witnesses, if necessary, half -of whom have known me since a boy." - -Needless to say that a man of Bryant's experience did not, as a rule, -believe one quarter of what he was told. But this man's face--this man's -tones--convinced him that he was listening to the truth. - -He rose from his chair. "Wait here a moment, please, while I hunt up the -particulars of this case. As I told you just now, I was not in charge of -it, and I should like to refresh my memory as to certain details." - -He came back after a few moments. "I know it all now, from A to Z. -You were identified by a married sister, a Mrs. Masters, who gave some -details of your career, which did not seem to have been a very healthy -one. She was also shown a letter which you were supposed to have written -to the Coroner, and she believed it to be in your handwriting. This -wants some explanation, I think, Mr. Davis, to call you by the name -which you say is your right one." - -"Quite so, sir," answered Reginald composedly. "It certainly requires -a good deal of explanation, but if you will listen to me with a little -patience, I think I can convince you that the thing is more natural than -it appears." The Inspector threw himself back in his chair: "I have no -doubt it was your sister who identified you, but how did she come to -mistake the actual suicide for you?" - -And Mr. Davis gave the explanation which Bryant might believe or not, or -believe in part, as he chose. - -"My sister Caroline was deeply attached to me. She was in despair when -she heard that I was suspected of murder, and was being hunted by the -police. As day after day, week after week, went by, and there was no -news of my capture, she got it firmly fixed in her mind that I had -committed suicide. She hunted the newspapers every morning to find some -paragraph that would confirm her fears. And then one day she read about -what had happened at Cathcart Square." - -Mr. Bryant was now deeply interested. He leaned forward in his chair, -and his attitude betokened his eagerness. - -"It is possible that her mind had become a little unhinged by her -anxiety. She expected to find me, and she found a man who might have -passed for my twin brother. So she tells me now that I have revealed -myself, for, of course, I lay very low until this belated confession of -the real murderer." - -Bryant only made a brief comment on this particular portion of the -narrative which Davis was twisting about with some skill. Of course, -Mrs. Masters had not been deceived by the accidental resemblance, but in -pretending to be she had given that brother a new lease of life. - -"You say that the man was so like you that the sister, who had known you -from childhood, was ready to swear he was her brother?" - -"There is no doubt, sir, that at the time her mind was clouded. She went -there expecting to find me, and as a not altogether unnatural result, -she found what she expected." - -"We will let that pass," said the Inspector drily. "No doubt, under -extraordinary circumstances, strange hallucinations are apt to occur. It -was very fortunate for you that your sister made that mistake, and that -it was accepted. As you admitted just now, if you had been caught and -tried it would have gone very hardly with you." - -Whatever Bryant thought in his own mind, it was evident that he was -prepared to admit that Mrs. Masters had acted in good faith when she -swore that the dead man was her brother. Davis could see there would be -no trouble on that score. - -"Now we come to the letter," pursued Davis. "I questioned my sister very -closely about that last night. She says she was so overwhelmed with the -discovery that she read that letter through a mist, as it were, but she -is positive that it closely resembled my handwriting." - -"Another hallucination, I suppose, or an accidental resemblance. Well, -if you will leave a specimen of your own caligraphy with us, we can -compare them," said Bryant. - -"And I suppose, sir, you will have the body exhumed, for the purpose of -discovering who the man really was?" - -"I suppose so," replied the Inspector a little unwillingly. "Although -I don't expect we shall ever find out. Nobody came forward at the time -when your sister made that mistake. Is it likely anybody will come -forward now? Some poor derelict, weary of life I suppose, without kith -or kin to claim him at the end. There are scores of suicides in the -year, Mr. Davis, who are buried unidentified." - -He added, after a moment's pause: "Of course, before taking any such -steps, we must formally prove, from unimpeachable testimony, that not -only are you Reginald Davis, but the particular Reginald Davis who was -falsely accused of murder." - -"I quite understand," answered Davis a little stiffly. "Before I -leave this room, I will indicate the quarters where you can obtain the -information you want." - -"Then, when I have verified that, I will ask you to come and see me -again." Bryant's manner as he said these words, indicated that the -interview was at an end. - -But Davis kept his seat, he had not finished yet. - -"May I take the liberty of detaining you for a few moments longer, sir, -to impress upon you the importance of having that body exhumed? You may -be correct in your theory it is that of some poor derelict, but I have a -different theory altogether." - -The Inspector looked sharply at him, and drew a deep breath. "Ah, then, -you have some knowledge of something: your visit to me has been leading -up to this, eh?" - -"No actual knowledge, sir, but a surmise that has, I venture to think, -some foundation. I have two sisters. The elder one I have already spoken -of to you." - -There was a slight note of sarcasm in the Inspector's voice as he -replied, "Yes, Mrs. Masters, whose fortunate mistake was of such -excellent service to you, during the time you were waiting for the real -criminal's confession." Davis did not suffer himself to resent this. -Of course, a man of the world like Bryant did not believe in this -camouflaged story. Mrs. Masters was a clever young woman, and had -taken advantage of an accidental resemblance to get her brother out of -jeopardy. - -"My other sister, Iris Deane, is in the chorus of the Frivolity Theatre. -I don't suppose you have ever heard of her?" - -Mr. Bryant shook his head. He knew a great deal about all classes of -criminals, but young ladies in the chorus of the Frivolity, or any other -theatre, were not in his line. - -"She was at Mrs. Masters's house last night. She came over especially -to welcome me, on my reintroduction to the world which I was supposed -to have quitted. She made to us a very startling confession, and that -confession is intimately associated with the events at Cathcart Square." - -And this time, Bryant was genuinely surprised, and was at no pains to -conceal it. Reginald Davis--he was beginning to believe in the man's -identity now--was evidently a member of a very remarkable family. - -"You astound me, Mr. Davis. Yourself and both your sisters mixed up with -what happened there! It sounds like a romance. Pray proceed!" - -Davis told the story as Iris had told him, carefully concealing the -names of the two men concerned in it for the moment. He was careful -to point out that on the night of the suicide she could establish a -complete and unquestioned alibi. - -Bryant turned on him sharply. "It occurs to me that you don't think it -was a suicide, Mr. Davis." - -"I don't, sir, and at present I can't quite tell you why." - -"But you must have some reason for thinking that," said Bryant in the -same sharp tone. - -"My only reason is this--if the man who was buried under the name of -Reginald Davis is the man I believe him to be, there was no earthly -reason why he should commit suicide. To the best of my belief, he was -murdered for some motive that I cannot guess, and the murderer, after -cutting his throat, put the razor in his stiffening hand." - -"It is a theory worth thinking about," said Bryant, who was beginning to -appreciate his visitor very much. "And now, Mr. Davis, the name of the -man whom your sister met in the empty house?" - -"I have kept that to the last, to surprise you. You will know the name, -but I don't suppose you ever came across the man. It was Major Hugh -Murchison." - -At this startling announcement, the Inspector literally jumped from his -chair. - -"But I do know Major Hugh Murchison," he cried. "He was in my office not -so very long ago. Let me see, when was it?" - -He turned to his diary and verified the date, and gave it to Reginald -Davis. It was longer back than he thought. - -"And you have not seen him since that day?" - -"No," answered the Inspector. "Wait a moment till I ring up my friend -Parkinson. I couldn't undertake the job he called on, as it was quite a -private matter. I handed it over to Parkinson." - -He rang up his old friend and former colleague. Davis could gather -enough from the conversation on Bryant's side to be sure that a -considerable interval had elapsed since Parkinson had seen his client. - -Bryant sat down in his chair. "Mr. Davis, I cannot say how much obliged -I am to you for your visit, and the information you have given me. Now, -I know a great deal more than you do about the proceedings and movements -of Major Murchison, I know on what business he was engaged, in addition -to that little matter of your sister's. I will go into the inquiries -concerning yourself, and please hold yourself at my disposal, give me an -address where I can communicate with you readily." - -Davis did so, and said good-bye to the Inspector. - -After he had left, Bryant gave instructions he was not to be disturbed -for an hour. And during that hour he did the hardest bit of thinking he -had ever done in his life. - -And now that Davis had mentioned it, the man did bear a superficial -resemblance to Hugh Murchison. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -|It was a very hard nut he had to crack. Thanks to his peculiar -position, he was in possession of reliable and exclusive information -from more than one quarter. He held several threads in his capable -hands, but would he be able to weave them into a net wide enough for his -purpose? - -His recent interview with Davis had established the fact that four -persons were connected with the mystery of Cathcart Square--Davis -himself, Caroline Masters (the elder sister), Iris Deane (the younger -sister), and, most important of all, Hugh Murchison. - -He dismissed, for the moment, the first three from his mind. But Hugh -Murchison, with his resemblance to Reginald Davis, was the connecting -link between them and another set of actors. - -Murchison had consulted him with the view of identifying Mrs. Spencer -and George Dutton with the Norah and George Burton of those far-off days -at Blankfield, and he had identified them as the same persons. He had -then handed over the Major to the astute Parkinson, who would find out -as much as he could with regard to the present relations between the -precious pair. - -Bryant had been very busy of late, and he had almost dismissed the -Murchison episode from his mind. But when the Major had completed his -investigations he would undoubtedly take steps to turn such a scheming -and unscrupulous adventuress out of her husband's house. As to the way -in which he would proceed to accomplish that purpose, Bryant, of course, -had no knowledge. Neither did he know which Murchison would approach -first, the husband or the wife. Perhaps both together. - -One thing stood out pretty clearly, from the evidence of Iris Deane, -that she had met Murchison alone at the house in Cathcart Square a few -days before the discovery of the dead body. - -Another thing also stood out equally clearly, that the dead man bore a -remarkable likeness to Reginald Davis. If not, Caroline Masters would -not have dared to perjure herself as she had done. And he himself had -recognised the superficial resemblance between the two men. - -Assuming that it was a murder, and not a suicide, and Bryant was -beginning to incline, like Davis, to the former theory, why had the -murderer fixed upon the name of Reginald Davis, and forged a letter -to the Coroner? He must have been somebody who had known Davis at some -time, and was acquainted with his handwriting. Like Caroline Masters, he -must have been inclined to do the hunted fugitive a good turn, and have -trusted to his gratitude to keep a silent tongue. - -An hour's steady thinking had cleared his brain. The conclusions -he arrived at were as follows: Hugh Murchison had been murdered by -somebody, and buried as a suicide under the name of Reginald Davis. -The next question was who was the murderer, and what was the motive -for committing the murder? Here he could make a pretty shrewd guess. If -Murchison had gone about his mission in a straightforward, but rather -blundering, fashion the motive was clear enough. - -With Bryant to think was to act. Davis was having a week's holiday in -London, staying with his sister, Mrs. Masters. That same afternoon the -young man was again in the Inspector's room, in response to an urgent -summons on the telephone. - -"Now, Mr. Davis, I have been thinking deeply over this rather -complicated affair of Cathcart Square, and I am beginning to see a -streak or two of daylight. I told you this morning I know a bit more -about Major Murchison than you do, and there is just a chance you might -help me. I take it you have had a somewhat adventurous career, your -sister admitted as much at the inquest. She said in fact that you had -been the black sheep of the family." - -Davis hung his head in a shame-faced fashion. "I have to admit it, sir. -It's no use attempting to deny it, when Carrie gave me away like that." - -"I have no desire to pry into your past, except so far as it helps me in -my present quest. But I expect, in your time, you have associated with -a few undesirable characters." Reginald Davis admitted the fact quite -frankly. - -"Now, of course, it is only just a chance. But did you ever come across -a man named George Burton, and a young woman who passed as his sister? -My first knowledge of them is that they ran a gambling saloon in -Paris, she a good-looking girl, acting as decoy. Then he quitted the -card-sharping game and went in for more criminal pursuits." - -"I did know them, sir. If I tell you what I do know, am I letting myself -in for anything?" queried Mr. Davis cautiously. "You see, since that -awful thing happened, I have turned over a new leaf. Nobody could tempt -me to go the least bit on the crook." - -"Make your mind quite easy, Davis. We have nothing against you. You know -that, or you would have hardly dared to come to life again." - -"Well, sir, I did know George Burton pretty intimately at one time, -after he left Paris. He was in the forgery business and he tried to drag -me in, but I was clever enough to keep out of it. They used, in his own -set, to call him 'George the Penman.'" - -"Good," said Bryant; "and what did you know about the girl?" - -"Not very much, sir. She passed as his sister, but one or two of his -pals believed her to be his wife, although there was no evidence of it." - -"Did you ever learn anything of her origin?" - -"Well, one chap who seemed to know more about them than their other -pals, told me that she was by way of being a lady, the illegitimate -daughter of a man well-known in London Society." - -"Do you know the name of the man?" - -Davis tapped his forehead in the effort of recollection. - -"It's on the tip of my tongue, sir: it will come to me in a moment--a -man who was mixed up in a gambling scandal, and had to leave the -country. Ah, I have got it now, he was known familiarly as Tommie -Esmond." - -Mr. Bryant rose. He had got all he could out of his new acquaintance. -The threads in his hand were drawing closer into a web. - -"Well, Mr. Davis, good-day. Many thanks for the information you have -given me, it has been very helpful. I will keep in touch with you." - -"And you think, with me, it was a murder, and not a suicide?" questioned -Davis as he left. - -But Bryant was not the man to express a decided opinion until he was -fully justified by the facts. He kept his thoughts to himself till the -last moment. - -He smiled pleasantly. "Time will show. I shall have that body exhumed, -as soon as I have made a few further inquiries." - -Davis had to be content with this oracular utterance, and bowed himself -out. He solaced himself by narrating all that had occurred to the -wondering Carrie. - -The matter had now become one for the activities of Scotland Yard. -The first thing to be done was to ascertain the whereabouts of Hugh -Murchison, that is to say, if he was still in the land of the living. -Some time had elapsed since he had communicated with Parkinson. Of -course, in itself, there would be nothing strange in that. Parkinson had -got the information that was required, been paid for it, and with that -payment, their relations had ended. - -Bryant went to the hotel where the Major had stayed, at any rate up -to the time that the detective had last seen him, and interviewed the -manager, whom he had known for some years in his professional capacity. -This person, a genial and cosmopolitan Italian, readily answered his -questions. - -Yes, the Major had stayed there for some little time. When he came, -he explained that he was only paying a flying visit to London. Had he -brought a servant with him? No, he had not. A somewhat strange omission -for a man in his position, was it not? The circumstance was easily -explained. The Major had had to dismiss his late valet for theft, and -was not in a hurry, for the present, to suit himself with a fresh one. -This he had told the manager and he was valeted at the hotel. - -He had left some time. How long? The manager would find out the exact -date. This he did. On the afternoon of the fourth of July. - -The Major had taken his things down to Victoria Station in a cab with -the view of depositing them there, as he was going to take an evening -train to Brighton. - -Bryant brightened up at this information. The discovery of the dead body -at Cathcart Square had taken place early on the morning of the fifth. - -Now arose the question, had the Major got through his business with the -Spencers before the fourth of July? In that case Mrs. Spencer was hardly -likely to be still living at Eaton Place with her husband. - -Inquiries at Eaton Place soon established the fact that Mrs. Spencer was -still there. What had happened? Had the Major communicated the result of -his research to the husband, with the result that, infatuated with his -wife, that husband had refused to credit the story and accepted Stella's -denials? - -It was a fairly plausible theory. When men are deeply in love, women -can twist them round their little finger. In that case, it was easy to -understand that, disgusted with the failure of his intervention, the -Major had made up his mind to leave London at once. - -One other thing was to be done, to ascertain if the Major had intimated -to any of his friends his intention of leaving London so abruptly. For -this purpose, Bryant sought out the brother Roderick, who had rooms in -Jermyn Street. - -Yes, Roderick had met the Major in Bond Street in the morning, and -learned of the proposed journey to Brighton. The young man added that -his brother was very erratic in his movements, and sometimes would -disappear for weeks at a stretch without communicating with any of his -friends or relatives. - -There was now one of two theories that stood out: the first one that Guy -Spencer had been told, and refused to believe the true facts about his -wife. The second was, that the Major had shirked the unpleasantness of -a personal interview of such a delicate character, and had gone down to -Brighton intending to write privately to Spencer from there. - -Further inquiries elicited the fact that the Major had never made that -projected journey to Brighton. His belongings had never been claimed, -they were still lying in the cloak room at Victoria Station. - -There was now no further doubt as to what steps had to be taken. -The Major had disappeared at a date practically coinciding with the -discovery of the dead body at Cathcart Square, the dead body which had -been wrongly identified as that of Reginald Davis, whose likeness to the -Major was so pronounced. Of that fact, Bryant himself was aware. - -The authorities were applied to, and gave permission for the body to be -exhumed. As the living Reginald Davis had established his identity to -the satisfaction of Scotland Yard, it was necessary to find out, if -possible, that of the man who had been mistaken for him. - -The body was exhumed and pronounced by half-a-dozen people, including -Guy Spencer, to be that of the Major. - -It had now become clearly a case of murder, and although those in charge -of the case had little or no doubt as to the guilty persons, it might -have been very difficult to prove, but for one convincing fact, supplied -by the murdered man himself. - -But this evidence, which was overwhelming, the police kept to themselves -for some little time, for their own good reasons. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -|The luggage which had been left at Victoria Station on the fatal day -was, of course, seized by the police. They searched it thoroughly in -the hope that they would find something useful to them in the shape of -letters or memoranda. - -Of letters there were only two, brief ones from Iris Deane, in which she -expressed her determination of sticking out for her ten thousand pounds. -As we know, in the end she gave way and accepted seven. - -But they did find one priceless thing, and that was a diary, bound in -red leather, a small volume as to the size of the page, but very bulky. -It had evidently been the dead man's habit to keep a fairly close record -of his doings, for it was numbered, and contained entries from some -date in May 1919 up to July 3rd, the day before he left the hotel, -and announced to the manager that he intended to take a late train to -Brighton. - -For the twentieth time since he had discovered this important piece -of evidence, Mr. Bryant sat in his room at Scotland Yard, reading and -re-reading the entries which he knew almost by heart. - -With the entries, before the visit to London, Bryant had no concern. -They recorded trifling events which had no reference to the tragedy -at Cathcart Square. There was, of course, allusion to the letter from -Roderick which had so startled his family, the letter announcing his -engagement to the chorus girl, Iris Deane, and his fixed resolve to make -her his wife. There was a note of a family council, in which the elder -brother was deputed to approach the young woman herself, with the object -of buying her off. - -There were a few records of his first days in London, after a long -absence, his visits to his clubs, his meeting with old pre-war -acquaintances, his first interview with Iris Deane, the difficulty of -arranging further interviews either at his hotel or her flat, owing to -the fear of Roddie popping in unexpectedly. - -Then came the whimsical record of his strolling round Kensington, -halting opposite the house with the board announcing that it was to be -let furnished, his interview with the accommodating caretaker who, in -return for a very handsome _douceur_, gave him a duplicate key to enter -the house at any time he liked. He had casually mentioned to Miles that -his name was Sanderson. - -The Major seemed childishly pleased over what he considered a very -astute move, especially the giving of another name. Here in this quiet -backwater of the world, for so it would seem to a man of his wealth and -position, he could continue his negotiations with the somewhat obstinate -Iris. In the portion of the diary concerned with the grasping and -frivolous young chorus-girl, Bryant was not greatly interested. He had -learned this already from Iris Deane, whom he had interviewed a few -times, and Reginald Davis. - -He turned from the bulky little volume, the pages of which were covered -with the Major's small, rather methodical handwriting, to a slenderer -book lying beside him. Into this had been copied all the extracts -bearing on the relations between the dead man and Mrs. Spencer, -otherwise Stella Keane, otherwise Norah Burton. - -The first entry recorded the dinner-party at Carlton House Terrace, when -he had been struck by the remarkable likeness of his friend's wife to -the pretty adventuress at Blankfield, who had driven his old friend, -Jack Pomfret, to his death; his endeavours to startle her by allusions -to that garrison town. - -An important entry was that of his interview with his old acquaintance -at the club, Gilbert Fairfax, from whom he had learned something of the -atmosphere of the L'Estrange flat in Elsinore Gardens, the branding of -Tommie Esmond as a card-sharper, the flight of the fat little man to the -Continent, the visit of Stella Keane to Charing Cross Station to bid the -detected cheat farewell. There was a comment upon this fact: "Whether -she is Norah Burton or not, her intimacy with the L'Estrange set, her -solicitude for Tommie Esmond, are sufficient to make her unfit to be the -wife of a straight, honest fellow like my old friend Guy Spencer." - -There followed further entries, relating his interview with Bryant, the -confirmation by the detective that Stella Keane was Norah Burton, that -George Dutton, the keeper of the obscure little bucket-shop in the City, -was the same George Burton who had been arrested at Blank-field on a -charge of forgery, and who, thanks to one of the cleverest advocates at -the criminal bar, had got off with a very light sentence. - -There was a full record of the long interview with Mrs. Spencer, in -which she had been finally confounded, and forced to confession, of her -acceptance of his terms, of the words she had uttered when, while rather -regretting that things could not go on as they were, lamenting the fact -that her accuser had ever been born, she was not at all satisfied with -her present environment, and would experience a certain measure of -relief in quitting it for a more congenial sphere. - -On the day he had parted from her, the day on which she had yielded to -his inflexible determination that she must remain under her husband's -roof as short a time as possible, he recorded the fact that, up to the -present moment, he had not made up his mind as to the precise way in -which he was going to bring about the separation. He wanted to choose -the way which would least hurt Guy. - -There had flashed through his mind that, in addition to the confession -she was about to make to him of her whole career, she should confess to -her husband that she was not legally his wife, being in reality the wife -of George Burton, alias George Dutton. There followed here a note. "I am -convinced she and this rascal were married, the sister and cousin dodges -were always a fake. I must see Parkinson to find out if he can ferret -out anything on that point. But the time is short. In a week I must be -ready for action." - -A further entry showed that he had called on Parkinson with this object, -only to learn that the detective had gone on an important mission -abroad, and could undertake no further work till his return, which would -be some ten days hence. That idea therefore had to be dismissed. He must -think out some other plan. - -Then came the last and most important entry of all, dated on the fourth -of July, written no doubt a few hours before he took his luggage to -Victoria Station. - -"I meet Norah Burton, I always think of her by that old name, at -Cathcart Square at six o'clock to-night. I have given the caretaker a -holiday to keep him out of the way. I have drawn up two copies of -the confession, one of which she is to sign. I have also drawn up an -undertaking on my part to keep her from want in case Guy should prove -obdurate. But this I am sure he will not do. Besides, if she is his -wife, and thinking it over, I have my doubts as to whether she was ever -really married to Burton, he would have to support her, in spite of her -unsavoury associations." - -Bryant paused for a moment as he finished this paragraph to reflect a -little. Personally, he did not believe that she was the wife of George -Burton; in his opinion, their association had been the result of mutual -interests. With this knowledge hanging over her head, she would hardly -have been daring enough to go through the ceremony of marriage with two -other men. Anyway, it was a debatable point. - -Moreover, Burton, like most criminals, would be very wide awake and -calculating. To marry her would be to handicap himself. He could get -more out of her by marrying her to a rich man. - -Then came the last paragraph of all. - -"Now, for my action after the final interview of to-night, when she has -signed the confession. I may do one of two things, forbid her to return -to her husband's house, and go myself straight to Eaton Place, and break -the news to Spencer without any preamble. In that case, I shall take -with me some ready money to hand to her, as she will probably have very -little upon her. - -"And yet I rather shrink from this course; it would be painful for me to -watch his agony while I struck such a terrible blow. I will run down -to Brighton, drop him a note telling him that an important letter will -reach him at his club by registered post to-morrow, that he is on no -account to let his wife know he has heard from me till he has read the -contents of that registered packet. - -"I shall post him the copy of the confession, telling him he can inspect -the original at any time he likes, meeting me either in Brighton or -London, leaving him to deal with her as he chooses. After all, his is -the right to dispose of his private affairs, my duty really ends when I -have put him in possession of the facts. My first method must have the -effect of creating open scandal at once, by my insisting upon her not -returning to Eaton Place. - -"He may wish to devise some plan that will create a scandal less open, -to save, as far as he can, the disgrace to himself and his family. If I -know the man, and here, perhaps, I am arguing from the knowledge only of -my own temperament, I should say his love would turn to hatred after he -reads that confession. Jack Pomfret was a weaker man than Guy, but he -acted as I should have done under the circumstances, and refused all -further communication with her, refused to give her the opportunity of -denial or explanation. - -"Still, there is no knowing to what lengths a deep-rooted infatuation -for a fascinating woman will lead a man. In this respect, Guy may be -less adamant than Pomfret, although I am sure he will never imitate poor -Jack's final weakness. He is too sturdily built for that. - -"When confronted with that confession she may plead artfully, and, -perhaps to him, convincingly, that while she admits everything contained -in it, she was more sinned against than sinning, that she tried to -escape from her odious bondage by marrying Jack, and that with his -suicide and the frustration of her hopes, she was compelled to return -to an environment which she loathed. He might consent to believe and -forgive, although to me such a thing seems incredible, impossible." - -Bryant closed the book on the last entry. That little red-leather volume -threw a lurid light on the mystery of Cathcart Square. The exhumed body -was found to be that of Major Murchison, wrongly identified in the first -instance as that of Reginald Davis. It was all very clear. - -That meeting had taken place, and the unfortunate man had been done -to death by the precious pair, Norah Burton and the scoundrel brother, -cousin or life-long lover, whichever he was. Reginald Davis was an old -acquaintance of theirs, had been possibly a more intimate one than -the cautious Davis was prepared to admit. They took with them letters -addressed to their old friend, they forged a letter from him intimating -his intention to commit suicide. - -If Davis read of all this in the papers, he was too concerned with his -own danger to emerge from his hiding-place and publish the truth to the -world. He would be thankful that, through the villainy of others, he -could take a new lease of life, unmenaced by detection. Of course, they -had never thought of the possibility that Davis would be cleared by the -confession of the real criminal. Like Scotland Yard, they were sure he -was guilty, and his silence was a matter of certainty. - -And slowly Bryant, drawing from the stores of his vast experience, began -to construct in his own mind the details of the murder, executed by -two desperate criminals, almost driven to the verge of madness by the -knowledge that their carefully-laid plans were about to be frustrated by -the action of one man. - -The woman, the weaker of the two, was probably more disposed to yield to -the force and strength of circumstances. Once before, in her marriage to -Jack Pomfret, she had had the cup snatched from her lips, and bowed -to the inevitable. From the few words recorded in the Major's accusing -diary, it would seem that, secured of a modest competence, she was ready -a second time to accept her fate. - -And then, in that week's interval, it was easy to guess what had -happened. She had consulted her old partner in crime, George Burton. He -had reasoned, as it turned out, a little shallowly, remove Murchison, -and the danger will be past. The resemblance of Murchison to Reginald -Davis had occurred to the pair, hence the cunningly prepared letters. - -And how was the actual murder accomplished? Had they gone to Cathcart -Square together, or had Burton followed her, getting in by means of that -broken window-pane at the back? And did they know the Major was alone? -In that last interview with Mrs. Spencer, had he let out the fact -that he had given the caretaker a holiday, so that they should not be -disturbed? - -These were side problems that could not be solved at the moment. Only -two persons could solve them, and those two, in all probability, would -never speak. - -But how had they killed him? The Major was a strong, muscular fellow who -would fight tenaciously for his life. Norah Burton was a slender woman, -almost verging on frailness, George Dutton, to call him by his latest -name, was certainly of a muscular build, although of only average -height. - -Well, of course, they had foreseen and prepared for all that. -while talking to him, she had sprayed over him the essence of some -overpowering and stupefying drug, and while he was staggering about, -dazed and blinded, the man had stepped in and done the rest. - -Owing to the absence of the caretaker, they had plenty of time. They had -rifled his pockets, taking out of them the money which, according to -his diary, he had brought along with him, his personal belongings, the -ticket which he had received at the luggage room of Victoria Station, -and, of course, the confession which Norah Burton had or had not signed. -No doubt, they had also examined his linen and underclothing to make -sure that his name was not on them. If it had been, they would have -dealt with it by stripping the body. - -They had carried it out pretty well, on the whole. There were two things -they had not reckoned on. One was the resuscitation of Reginald Davis. -The other was the fact that Murchison kept a diary, one of the last -things that a man of his sort was likely to do. - -Bryant, although not a very emotional man, felt very depressed as he -came to the result of his meditations. He felt sure that, if Norah -Burton could have had her own way, she would have accepted her fate, -gone forth on the world again with the slender pittance that either of -the two men, her husband or his friend, would have allowed her. - -She had suffered herself to be dominated by a more reckless and criminal -spirit, with the result that the life of an honourable man had been -taken, and she was already standing at the foot of the gallows. - -The pair, only knowing that the body had been exhumed and proved to -be that of Hugh Murchison--a terribly disturbing thought to them--but -ignorant of the discovery of that incriminating diary, were being -closely watched. But they felt sure that nothing could be traced to -them, they had hidden their tracks so cleverly, as they thought. - -It was now only a question of a few hours as to when they should be -taken. And Bryant felt that Guy Spencer should know the truth before -anybody else. Poor fellow! He would soften the blow to him as much as he -could. - -That same evening he went round to Eaton Place, about seven o'clock. -He reckoned that he would catch Spencer before he went up to dress for -dinner. "Poor devil," thought Bryant, "he won't have much appetite for -dinner after he has read through that diary!" - -Spencer was in the library, and the detective, whom he had met before -in connection with the mystery of Cathcart Square, was shown in. Spencer -welcomed him with his usual cordiality. - -"Good-evening, Mr. Bryant. Any fresh light upon this terrible thing?" - -The footman had left the library door slightly open, after showing -Bryant in, and had retired swiftly to his quarters. - -He was hardly out of the hall when Stella opened the front-door with -her key, and glided noiselessly in. All her movements were noiseless, -suggesting, as somebody had once remarked of her, the silent motions of -a snake. She always carried a key, declaring that she could not be kept -waiting for servants to answer the door. - -The library door was open, through the aperture she heard voices, and -one of them she recognised. It was that of the Scotland Yard detective, -who had cross-examined her very closely as to her various meetings with -the dead man. She had been afraid of Bryant. He had looked at her so -searchingly, and his manner always conveyed that he knew so much more -than he was prepared to disclose. - -Bryant was speaking in a low, but very clear voice. Her hearing was -singularly acute, and she could catch every word. - -"I am come on a very painful errand, Mr. Spencer. There is a small -volume here which throws a very clear light on what happened at Cathcart -Square on that fatal evening of July the fourth." - -Guy's cheerful accents rang out. "You mean you have got a clue, Mr. -Bryant. But why painful to me? If you are on the track of the murderer -of my poor old friend, nobody will be more rejoiced than I." - -Again the low, grave tones of Bryant: - -"Mr. Spencer, you will be a very stricken man when you have read through -it. Your poor friend left behind him a very copious diary, made up to -the morning of the day on which he was murdered. The original is at my -office, you can inspect it at any time you like. This is a copy of the -entries relating to Cathcart Square. It touches your domestic life very -closely, in addition to proving why and by whom he was murdered." - -Stella waited to hear no more. Her face had gone livid, she felt shaking -in every limb. That her old enemy, Murchison, had left a diary! They -had never thought of that possibility. The game was up. She had staked -something on her marriage as Norah Burton with Jack Pomfret, and had -lost. This time she had staked everything and lost again, but now she -had lost liberty and life in addition. There was but one end. She must -seek at once the man who had, in a way, been a good and faithful friend, -but also her evil genius. - -She stole as quietly out of the hall as she had entered it, and hailed -a passing taxi. She knew she would never enter the house at Eaton Place -again. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -|Mrs. Spencer had plenty of money in her pocket. She was always -accustomed to carry a large sum about her. Her adventurous life had -taught her that it was always wiser to have a good amount of cash in her -possession. The time might come at any moment when you were in a tight -corner. She had promised a handsome reward to the taxi-cab driver if he -could get to a certain destination within the speed limit. - -That destination was Kew Bridge, where it abuts on a little-known -neighbourhood called Strand-on-the-Green. - -At the foot of Kew Bridge, the wretched and hunted woman halted, and -paid the driver his extravagant fare. What did it matter what she paid -to-night? To-morrow she might not be able to pay. She shuddered as she -thought of that to-morrow. - -The taxi-driver drove slowly out of sight. She waited, from a sense of -habitual caution, till he was well out of the way. And then, remembering -everything, she smiled bitterly. Was there any need of caution now? - -She went down a narrow lane, halted at the door of a small cottage, and -rang the front-door bell. As she did so, she was aware of a man a few -yards away from her, who seemed to be strolling aimlessly about, a man -dressed in ill-fitting clothes, and heavy boots. - -A detective certainly! This man had followed her from Eaton Place in a -taxi almost as swift as her own. Bryant knew his business, he was not -going to lose sight of her, or of her reputed cousin, George Dutton. - -The door was opened cautiously by George Dutton, alias George Burton. - -It was a small furnished cottage that he had rented for some months -past, at a rent commensurate with his means. He kept no servant; a -feeble old woman came in the morning to clean him up and prepare his -breakfast. When he came back at night from the not very prosperous -bucket-shop, he looked after himself, and cooked over a gas-stove his -evening meal. - -The evenings were drawing in, and it was rather a dark night. He peered -for a moment at his visitor, before he recognised her. - -"Stella, by all that is wonderful." He called her by the new name, -not the old one of Norah. "Come in, dear, but your arrival in this -unexpected fashion does not suggest good news." - -She passed hastily through the open doorway. "Shut it quick," she said, -in a low, hoarse voice. "There is a man watching outside, I am sure he -is a detective." - -As a matter of fact, there were two detectives within a few feet of each -other, but in her agitation she had not observed the second man, who was -deputed to keep watch on the movements of Mr. George Dutton. - -George Dutton was an old hand, and not to be lightly disturbed by small -incidents. But he recognised the significance of this visit. His ruddy -colour died away. - -"You have bad news," he said quietly. - -"The worst, George. Bryant, the detective, paid a visit to Guy this -evening. I came in just in the nick of time. The library door was ajar, -I heard what Bryant said. The Major has left a diary behind him, and, of -course, he had put it all down, up to the arranged meeting in Cathcart -Square. The game is up, you will recognise that." - -Dutton's mentality was a little bit slower than her own. "Did you hear -any extracts read from the diary?" - -"What a fool you are!" she cried indignantly. "Why should I wait to -hear? If the man kept a diary, is it not easy to guess that he would -have related every incident connected with me, from our first meeting at -the Southleigh dinner-party? Bryant is watching me, there is a detective -waiting outside. No doubt he is watching you, too. He is just waiting to -pounce." - -"Then why has he gone to your husband?" - -"Oh, you are too dense for worlds. Just to soften the blow. Can't you -understand that he wants to warn him beforehand of the shame that is -going to fall upon him, the discovery that his wife is a murderess?" - -And then Mr. Dutton understood. He stretched out appealing arms to her. -"My poor little girl, my ever faithful pal! And I have brought you to -this!" - -"You have brought me to this," she said bitterly. "Did I not implore you -upon my knees to accept the Major's terms, and you were so obstinate, -so set. You would insist upon the other way because it seemed better to -you. And I, fool that I was, always yielding to your sinister influence, -gave way as I always have done." - -Scoundrel and criminal as he was, hardened by years of evil-doing, the -man's self-control gave way at that accusation. He drew her to him, and, -strange to say, she did not shrink from his embrace.. - -"My poor Stella, I have tried to do my best for you always, even -sacrificed myself. But the end has come." - -He recognised that, as she did. - -"Yes," she said stoically, "as you say, the end has come. You have -always been very adept in falling into holes, and then digging yourself -out again. How are you going to dig yourself and me out of this hole, in -the face of that incriminating diary?" - -Dutton walked up and down, his face working, his hands and his body -trembling. He was up against the gravest problem of his adventurous -career. The shadow of the prison had always hovered over him, but now -there was a more ghastly menace, the shadow of the gallows. From the -prison, he could return. There was no return from the other. - -He paused in his restless pacing, and came to a halt before the stricken -woman. He had recovered himself to a certain extent. He had gambled and -lost, he was prepared to accept the fate of the unsuccessful gambler. - -"You are brave, old girl?" he asked briefly. - -She looked up at him with a wan smile. - -"Yes, I think I am brave. I can guess what you are about to suggest, -with the detectives watching us outside." She burst into a little sob. -"Oh, you always thought you were so clever, and yet, if I had had the -management of affairs, things might have been so different." - -He spoke humbly. "I think you are right, Norah. I was always full of -arrogance and self-conceit. You were weaker in character than I was, but -you had always more brains. And I was a blind fool not to admit it. Many -a time you gave me your advice, and I rejected it." - -"And what do you suggest now?" she asked, in a voice that had sunk to a -whisper. - -He looked at her steadily. He had screwed up his courage to the sticking -point. Could he count upon an equal fortitude in her? - -"It is the finish, old girl. You say the detectives are waiting outside. -Bryant has got a good case, and the diary will hang us. There is no -getting over that." - -"You propose----" she said falteringly. - -He spoke quite steadily. The end had come, he had made up his mind, so -far as regards himself. - -"We neither of us want to hang for the murder of Hugh Murchison?" - -She shuddered, and hid her face with her hands. "Oh, that awful evening! -It has been like a nightmare ever since." - -"I know," said Dutton soothingly. "It was one of my fatal mistakes. But -it is no use crying over spilt milk. To-night we are face to face with -facts. We have gambled, and we have lost, and we have got to pay the -penalty." - -The wretched woman rose up, and wrung her hands. "And to think I might -have been the Countess of Southleigh." - -"I know; don't think I am not reckoning up all that," replied Dutton. -"But we have got to deal with facts to-night, with the detectives -waiting outside. The game is up, you know that as well as I do. We have -only a few hours before us, perhaps a few minutes, in which to make the -choice." - -"I know," she answered. "You mean our only alternative is to cheat the -law." - -He looked at her steadily. "That is the only way. If we suffer ourselves -to be taken, we have not got a dog's chance." - -Weak woman as she was, she gathered something of his iron resolution. -Yes, they must die and die together, to cheat the law. Such was to be -the end of the brilliant adventuress who had inveigled two men into -marriage, Jack Pomfret and Guy Spencer, with her subtle and elusive -charm. - -"And what do you suggest, George? You have thought of these things more -than I have." - -"I have always thought of them," said Dutton gloomily. "Well, there are -various ways I can suggest to you. I can shoot you first, and myself -afterwards." - -She shuddered. "Some other way than that." - -"I can give you some tabloids." - -"Is there any pain?" she queried. - -"Hardly any." - -She shuddered again. "Hardly any. That does not sound very convincing." - -He proposed a third alternative. "You can come up to my room, and lie on -the bed. I will paper up all the doors and cracks and turn up the gas. -You will simply go to sleep and never wake." - -"That is the best," she said. - -"If we had plenty of time. But they may take us in a few minutes. Bryant -has seen your husband, he will not wait long after that interview." - -"The tabloids, then," she said firmly. - -Yes, it had come to this, she must cheat the law. Twice, she had had -her chance, once as the wife of Jack Pomfret, again as the wife of Guy -Spencer. And twice had the cup of triumph been snatched from her lips. - -She must die, like a rat in a hole, in this obscure little cottage at -Strand-on-the-Green, in the company of the man who had always been her -evil genius. - -Dutton went across to a small cupboard built in the wall of the shabby -parlour, and brought out a little bottle filled with capsules. He -extracted one and handed it to the shrinking woman. - -"Take yours first, dear, I will take mine after." There was a look of -infinite compassion in the scoundrel's face as he offered it to her. - -Bravely she took it, and swallowed it with a great gulp, sitting in the -shabby easy-chair. The effect was almost instantaneous, and when Dutton -had made sure that she was beyond human aid, he took a similar tabloid -himself, with the same result. - -An hour later there was a thundering knock at the door of the cottage. -One of the detectives had gone to a telephone office and informed Bryant -that the woman had come to Strand-on-the-Green, and was with Dutton. The -order came back from Bryant, who had only stayed a few minutes at Eaton -Place, that the pair were to be arrested at once. - -Of course there was no response. After waiting for a few moments, the -men broke in the frail door. But they were too late. - -Norah Burton, and the man who had been so long associated with -her--brother, cousin, lover, whatever he might be--had gone to their -judgment. - -It was a nine-days' wonder, and while his friends and acquaintances were -still discussing it at clubs and over tea-tables, Guy Spencer slipped -quietly abroad. When he returned to England, at the end of twelve -months, these tragic happenings had become little more than a memory to -his world. - -He stayed a week with the Southleighs at their ancestral home in Sussex, -and at the end of that week their friends read an important announcement -in _The Morning Post_: - -"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Mr. -Guy Spencer and his cousin, Lady Nina, only daughter and child of the -Earl of Southleigh." - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of This House To Let, by William Le Queux - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS HOUSE TO LET *** - -***** This file should be named 51307-8.txt or 51307-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/0/51307/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: This House To Let - -Author: William Le Queux - -Release Date: February 24, 2016 [EBook #51307] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS HOUSE TO LET *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THIS HOUSE TO LET - </h1> - <h2> - By William Le Queux - </h2> - <h4> - Hodder And Stoughton Limited - </h4> - <h4> - London - </h4> - <h3> - 1921 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PROLOGUE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">V</span>ery early on a - July morning in 1919 Constable Brown was on his beat in Kensington, in the - immediate neighbourhood of Cathcart Square. - </p> - <p> - Cathcart Square was an old-fashioned backwater of this highly respectable - suburb. It had not been built on any regular lines. Small, narrow houses - nestled comfortably by the side of what might be called mansions. At the - entrance to the Square itself, a narrow-fronted milk-shop stood next door - to a palatial residence. The dairy was very old, and the Square, with its - strange agglomeration of houses, had been built round it. - </p> - <p> - Constable Brown, a tall, strapping young fellow, took his duties easily. - He was quite contented with his lot, and not thirsting for promotion; he - had no overweening sense of his own abilities. He was friendly with all - the cooks on his beat, and from them he received very choice tit-bits. In - his case, the policeman's lot was a fairly happy one. - </p> - <p> - The morning was a very bright one, a somewhat powerful summer sun had just - risen, and flooded the streets with light. - </p> - <p> - He had no need of his lantern, early in the morning as it was. He strolled - slowly round the Square, turning observant eyes on an the houses. In his - patrol, he met nobody. The busy world of commerce was not yet astir. Only - from afar he heard the distant rumbling of market-carts on their way to - Covent Garden, market-carts laden with fruit and vegetables. - </p> - <p> - The Square was sleeping. In a few more hours it would wake to vigorous - life. The dairy shop would take down its shutters, and show signs of - animation. And when the dairy shop took down its shutters, Constable Brown - would be relieved, and go home to enjoy his well-earned rest. - </p> - <p> - All was quiet in the Square. Brown had patrolled it several times in his - nightly vigil, and had discovered no signs of marauders. - </p> - <p> - He paused opposite No. 10, one of the few big houses. He looked - contemplatively at the board announcing in large type—THIS HOUSE TO - LET: FURNISHED-with the agent's name displayed prominently at the foot of - the bill. - </p> - <p> - "Only house to let in the Square," ruminated Brown, as he stood reading - the bill for perhaps the hundredth time. "It's been empty now for over - three months. It ought to have been snapped up long ago." - </p> - <p> - He was right. Houses in Cathcart Square did not wait long for tenants. Mr. - Brown ruminated further, and provided his own solution. - </p> - <p> - "Old Miles, the caretaker, has got too comfortable quarters, he doesn't - want to flit. When people come to view, he talks to them about damp, or - ghosts or beetles, and chokes them off. Artful old devil, Miles, and a bit - too fond of drink." - </p> - <p> - Having finished his patrol of the Square itself, he passed along the - backs, abutting on a somewhat mean street, for a rather undesirable - neighbourhood had built itself around these somewhat stately houses. - </p> - <p> - His perambulations brought him to the back of No. 10, the house to let. - His trained eye, accustomed to take in the smallest details, noticed a - broken pane of glass in the scullery window. He climbed over the low - railing which shut off the back premises from the mean street on which - they looked, and peered at the broken window-pane. From a general point of - view there was not much in it. Window-panes are broken every day. But this - was an empty house, looked after by a somewhat bibulous caretaker of the - name of Miles. A hundred chances to one that Miles had stumbled against - it, and broken it with his elbow. - </p> - <p> - But although Constable Brown was not very brilliant, he was painstaking - and methodical; his mind was slow but tenacious. He did not accept facts - at their face value. - </p> - <p> - After peering through the broken pane, he proceeded to further - experiments. He lifted the window, and it went up easily. He drew his - deductions swiftly. Somebody had entered the empty house. That somebody - had smashed the pane in order to get at the latch, had entered the house, - later emerged through the window and forgotten to fasten it. - </p> - <p> - But why enter an empty house, where there was nothing to steal except the - heavy furniture left by the late tenant, a Mr. Washington, who was abroad? - Brown knew for a fact from the caretaker that all silver and plate had - been lodged at Mr. Washington's bank. It was a puzzle. - </p> - <p> - One thing was clear: his duty lay straight before him. He must go over - that empty house. A careful examination might reveal something or nothing. - </p> - <p> - But he was a very cautious man, and with no great belief in his own - powers. He would not make the examination alone. He blew his whistle for - further assistance. - </p> - <p> - In a few seconds, a fellow constable, a smart young fellow, hurried up to - him. Brown pointed to the broken pane, the uplifted window. The smart - young man projected himself through the open space. Brown followed, - explaining as he went. - </p> - <p> - They searched the basement, the ground floor, and the floor above—with - no result. - </p> - <p> - "Now for the caretaker," said the younger and the more quick-witted of the - two policemen. - </p> - <p> - "He sleeps up at the top," answered Brown. "He generally comes home - half-seas over. If a regiment was hammering at the door he would not wake - till his sleep was done." - </p> - <p> - They went up to the caretaker's room on the top floor. The bed was empty. - Miles had evidently taken a holiday. - </p> - <p> - The young constable grunted. "Seems a reliable sort of chap, doesn't he? I - wonder how long he has been away? The house agents can tell us if they - have sent any clients to view the house during the last twenty-four hours, - and whether they have been able to get in or not. Anyway, for the present, - he seems out of this job." - </p> - <p> - Brown assented. He did not talk as much as his quicker-witted colleague, - but his rather slow mind was working at its normal speed. - </p> - <p> - "We've got to examine the other floors, you know. I've made up my mind to - one thing—whoever came in here, robbery wasn't the object." - </p> - <p> - "There I quite agree," remarked the younger man. - </p> - <p> - They made their way down from the top floor, which consisted of three - attics. On the floor beneath this, they searched every room and found - nothing. - </p> - <p> - But on the floor underneath their search was rewarded. In a small - dressing-room, leading off the bedroom which fronted the square, they - found a gruesome sight—the lifeless body of a man, comparatively - young, somewhere about thirty-five or so, a deep gash in his throat, in - his stiffened hand a razor. - </p> - <p> - The two men gazed, horrified. It was an early summer morning, the sun was - shining through the windows, the birds were twittering in the trees. - Shortly the whole world would be astir. And here, in the small room, lay - the senseless clay, oblivious of all these signs of awakening life and - vigour. - </p> - <p> - Brown was the first to speak. "Suicide!" he said hoarsely. "The poor devil - wanted to make an end of it, and crept in here, knowing it was an empty - house." - </p> - <p> - The younger man spoke less convincingly. "It looks like it. Suicide, as - you say." He paused a moment, and then spoke slowly: "I think it's - suicide, but it might be—mind you, I only say might be—a very - carefully planned murder. And now, let us overhaul his pockets, we may - find something to establish identification." - </p> - <p> - Together they bent down, and rummaged the dead man's pockets. They found - plenty of material for identification. - </p> - <p> - As they were engaged in their gruesome task, they heard the sound of a - latch-key being put in the front-door. They heard the door banged to, and - heavy footsteps ascended the staircase. - </p> - <p> - "Miles come back after his spree," whispered Constable Brown to the - younger man. - </p> - <p> - Miles, all unsuspecting of what had taken place during his absence, came - heavily up the stairs. It could not be said that he was by any means - drunk, but he was not absolutely sober. He was slowly recovering from the - previous night's debauch. - </p> - <p> - Arrived on the floor where the two policemen were conducting their - investigations, absolute sobriety came back to him. He saw the open door - of the dressing-room, two men in uniform kneeling by the side of an - inanimate object. His brain cleared as if by magic. He recognised in one - of the kneeling constables his old friend Brown. - </p> - <p> - He indulged in a little profanity, born of his emotion, which need not be - set down here. Shorn of certain expletives, natural to a man of his class, - he inquired of Brown what was the matter. - </p> - <p> - Brown on his side was cool and explicit, and instead of answering the - caretaker's questions, he preferred to put a few of his own. - </p> - <p> - "Nice sort of caretaker you are," he said in a contemptuous voice. "You're - paid to look after this house, aren't you? Where were you all last night I - should like to know? You can see what has happened. Somebody has got in - through the back, either to commit suicide, or with a companion who - brought him here to murder him. That's got to be found out before the - Coroner." - </p> - <p> - Miles pulled himself together. He was by no means a fool when sober, and - in sight of this ghastly object the fumes of last night's intoxication had - absolutely cleared. - </p> - <p> - "I can show an alibi right enough," he said doggedly. - </p> - <p> - The younger and readier-witted of the two constables looked up and spoke - sharply. "So far, my friend, we have not accused you, but you may as well - tell us the details of your alibi." - </p> - <p> - Miles's explanation, delivered in the somewhat halting way of his class, - bore the ring of truth. An old acquaintance of his, whose name and address - he gave, had looked him up the day before and asked him to spend a day - with him at Shepperton, where the said acquaintance kept a small shop. - Miles had succumbed to the temptation. . - </p> - <p> - "It drives a man fair off his blooming chump to be tied by the leg in a - hole like this," he interpolated in the midst of his narrative, "waiting - for would-be tenants who never call. I daresay you chaps do your eight or - ten hours a day, but you're out in the open air, not looking on four - walls. You see a bit of life, I don't." - </p> - <p> - Constable Brown cut across his narrative swiftly. - </p> - <p> - "Never mind your grievances, Miles. If you could get a better job, I guess - you would take it. Where did you spend the night?" - </p> - <p> - "At the same old show, down at Shepperton," replied the unabashed Miles. - "My old pal's a sport, I can tell you. When he shut up his shop, he plied - me with some of the best. I wasn't backward, I admit. I missed the last - train back, and slept on the sofa in the back room. When I woke, I - remembered things a bit, and got an early train home. Here I am. My old - pal Jack will tell you I'm speaking gospel truth." - </p> - <p> - Neither of the two men listening to him had any doubt that his narrative - was a true one. He was a poor, weak, bibulous creature, but by no stretch - of the imagination could he be an accessory to the gruesome happenings at - No. 10. - </p> - <p> - Even had he been at his post, as he should have been on this particular - night, he would have been sunk in a stertorous sleep, and have heard - nothing. - </p> - <p> - But to make everything sure, Constable Brown pulled him along and forced - him to look at the dead man. - </p> - <p> - "You have never seen him before, Miles? I mean he has not called to look - over the house or anything?" - </p> - <p> - "No." Miles, looking shudderingly at the ghastly sight, was ready to swear - he had never seen him before. - </p> - <p> - He turned his frightened gaze away. "It will be all over the town - to-night," he said ruefully. "We shall never let the house after this." - </p> - <p> - "It will still be a soft job for you, Miles," retorted Brown, a little - spitefully. "You won't have to play up the damp and the beetles. You are - here for life, old man." - </p> - <p> - "I know," said Miles in a gloomy tone. "But I shall see him staring at me - every minute of the day and night." - </p> - <p> - The body was removed to the mortuary. The evening newspapers had flaring - headlines: "Gruesome Discovery in No. 10 Cathcart Square." An enterprising - journalist had got hold of Miles, and speedily discovering his weakness, - had taken him to the nearest public-house, and plied him plentifully with - liquor, with a view to a sensational article. - </p> - <p> - The enterprising reporter made the best of his material, but it did not - amount to much. - </p> - <p> - The caretaker knew nothing about the dead man, he was armed at all points - with his alibi. As regards the house itself, invested with so much - tragedy, the present tenant was a Mr. Washington, a man of considerable - means, now abroad. Mr. Washington was prepared to let it furnished. The - furniture was very valuable. - </p> - <p> - To a public greedily anxious for the smallest details, the astute - journalist served up a nice little article, describing the expensive - furniture, and adding a short life-history of Mr. Washington, as supplied - by the reminiscent Miles. The public swallowed this article eagerly and - awaited further developments. - </p> - <p> - These came with the inquest, and there was a somewhat tame ending to what - had promised to be a very sensational case. - </p> - <p> - Some three months previously, a certain man named Reginald Davis had been - suspected of committing a murder while driving a motor-car in Cornwall. - The evidence, although circumstantial, had been very convincing. The - police had been on his track, but not quickly enough. The man had eluded - their vigilance, and run to earth somewhere. - </p> - <p> - On the body of the dead man in Cathcart Square, the two constables had - found three letters addressed to Reginald Davis. Also a letter, signed - Reginald Davis, addressed to the Coroner in which he avowed his intention - of committing suicide at the earliest opportunity. - </p> - <p> - It was fairly evident from this that the wretched man, hunted by the - police, and recognising that capture was imminent in the course of a few - days, had resolved upon the fatal step, had effected his entrance into the - lonely house in Cathcart Square, had found it even more deserted than he - imagined, and in that little dressing-room cheated the law. - </p> - <p> - But, in addition to this overpowering evidence, there was added the fact - of identification. - </p> - <p> - A tall, handsome young woman, giving the name of Caroline Masters, had - been to the mortuary, and identified the body as that of her brother, - Reginald Davis. - </p> - <p> - She gave her evidence before the Coroner with commendable composure, - broken now and again with a little natural grief. Her disclosures were - briefly as follows. - </p> - <p> - Reginald had always been the black sheep of the family, not naturally - vicious, but impetuous, fiery-tempered and ungovernable. If he was guilty - of the murder in Cornwall, it had been due to no natural criminal - instinct, but to a fit of unbridled passion. Her theory was that remorse - had weighed upon him for this unpremeditated crime, and that, through - remorse and the fear of justice overtaking him, he had crept into this - lonely house and passed sentence on himself. - </p> - <p> - She made a very great impression on the Court by the calm and dignified - way in which she gave her evidence. The Coroner put to her a few - questions. She was quite certain that the body was that of her brother, - Reginald Davis? Were there any other members of the family who could - support her in her identification? - </p> - <p> - No, there were no other members of the family alive. There was another - brother dead, and a sister of whose whereabouts she knew nothing. Her - father had been a strange man, he had quarrelled with all the members of - his family, and she had never known one of them. Her mother had died some - years ago. Her voice broke a little as she related these touching - circumstances of her domestic life, more especially when she added she was - a widow, her husband having been killed in the Great War. - </p> - <p> - There seemed but one possible verdict. The dead man, it was clearly - established, was Reginald Davis, first by the letters found upon him, - secondly by his sister's identification. - </p> - <p> - It was also clear that Reginald Davis, hunted by the police, and knowing - that it was only a question of days or weeks before he would be run to - earth, had considered the two alternatives of self-destruction or the - extreme penalty of the law—and that he had chosen the former. - </p> - <p> - The verdict was recorded. Mrs. Masters was complimented on the way in - which she had given her evidence. The Coroner assured her that the - sympathy of the Court was with her. The tears Welled into her eyes as she - listened to the Coroner's well-chosen phrases. She bowed her grateful - thanks. - </p> - <p> - Constable Brown was waiting in the corridor as she came out. Beside him - stood the younger policeman who had assisted him on that very - well-remembered night in Cathcart Square. - </p> - <p> - Brown touched his helmet. "A very trying time for you, ma'am," he said, "a - very trying time. You went through it bravely." - </p> - <p> - She smiled Wanly. "My poor brother! He had so many good points. But it is - better as it is. I shudder to think of what might have been, if he had not - done this dreadful thing." - </p> - <p> - "Much the best way, ma'am, much the best way," corroborated Brown. - </p> - <p> - She went out, a graceful figure, and Brown turned to his younger - colleague. - </p> - <p> - "A remarkable case, old chap. As we said all along, suicide." - </p> - <p> - The younger man paused a little before he replied. It may be mentioned - that a few months later he was promoted to the detective force in - consequence of some rather clever work connected with a gang of coiners in - an obscure corner of the West End. - </p> - <p> - "It looks like it, but I'm not quite as sure as you are," he said - laconically. - </p> - <p> - Brown stared, but made no comment. A verdict was a verdict. His young - colleague had the inexperience and the vanity of youth, and thought he was - more clever than other people, perhaps! - </p> - <p> - But on one thing the young constable had made up his mind, and that was - that Miles, the bibulous caretaker, had not told the truth when in the - witness-box. He came to this conclusion from his demeanour. Miles swore - that he had no knowledge of the dead man, but the constable believed this - to be a lie. - </p> - <p> - And with the tame ending of the Coroner's inquest, the mystery of No. 10 - Cathcart Square ceased to hold the public interest. Plenty of other things - came on to attract their attention. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the year before - the Great War, when to all appearance there was not a cloud upon the - horizon, when only a few statesmen felt "profoundly uneasy," the secret of - that uneasiness being carefully locked away in their own breasts, and - hidden from the general public—in that year of 1913, in the month of - March, the Twenty-fifth Lancers were quartered at the town of Blankfield, - in Yorkshire. - </p> - <p> - The Twenty-fifth was a crack regiment. Most of the officers were members - of the aristocracy, a few of the plutocracy, that portion of the - plutocracy which on account of its wealth had been adopted into a superior - world by marriage with its aristocratic daughters. - </p> - <p> - They were a fine set of clean-minded, healthy living, sporting young - fellows. They rode to hounds, they played polo when there was any going, - they shot over the coverts of their friends, they made love to all the - pretty girls they came across in a gallant and desultory fashion, loving - and riding away. - </p> - <p> - It cannot be said that they took their professional duties in too serious - a fashion. But they were brave as lions, and when the time came to prove - their mettle, none of their relatives had cause to blush for their record. - </p> - <p> - The memories of most of them were enshrined deeply in the hearts of - wailing mothers and weeping sweethearts, when the great holocaust came. - </p> - <p> - Foremost amongst this band of gay spirits and resolute sportsmen was a - certain Captain Murchison, "Hughie," as he was always called by his - intimates. - </p> - <p> - "Hughie" was not a pure aristocrat. His father, a man of fabulous wealth, - was the head of the great brewing firm of Murchison, Delaroyd & Co., - the fourth in succession, for the big brewery had been founded over a - hundred years ago. - </p> - <p> - It is supposed, in the case of self-made men, that it requires three - generations to make a gentleman. Anyway, the present Sir Hugh had won his - spurs by the fact of belonging to the fourth. And he had further firmly - established his position by marrying Lady Gertrude Marchmont, a daughter - of the Earl of Mounthaven. The Marchmonts had blue blood in profusion, - they ere one of the oldest families in the Kingdom, only just being beaten - by such superior people as the Howards, the Talbots, and the Nevilles. - </p> - <p> - Captain Murchison was, therefore, plutocrat on the father's side, - aristocrat of aristocrat on the mother's. But he did not owe his - popularity to these adventitious circumstances. The fact that he was the - most popular man in his regiment was due to his own sterling qualities. - </p> - <p> - In the first place, he was a man of the most unbounded generosity and the - most serene good-humour. He had captained the Eleven at Eton, and he was - one of the best shots, also one of the best polo-players, in England. - Needless to say that he was a man's man. The fact that he was also equally - a woman's man can be easily explained. He boasted more than ordinary good - looks, and he had a charming, deferential way with women that captivated - them at once. - </p> - <p> - The Twenty-fifth had a very good time at Blankfield, on the whole. The - houses of the "county" were, of course, open to such a distinguished - regiment, but perhaps they had a rather jollier time amongst the rather - limited circle of rich townsfolk whom they condescended to visit: the - people who, at the best, had only a nodding acquaintance with the - "county." - </p> - <p> - Murchison was a born sportsman. Hunting, polo, shooting, cricket, occupied - nearly all his waking thoughts, except those few that were claimed by his - professional duties. Popular as he was with women, not a single member of - the weaker and more charming sex had made any real impression on him up to - the present. - </p> - <p> - He had had several flirtations with charming girls, of course: he might - have indulged in a few sentimental passages with certain more or less - detached, or semi-detached, married women. The latter very rarely, for - although by no means a saint he was a very clean-minded young man, and - held rather rigid notions as to what might be done, and what ought not to - be done. - </p> - <p> - Anyway at this particular moment he was quite heart-whole. - </p> - <p> - And then, one day, in this rather sleepy town of Blankfield, an adventure - befell him. It was not strictly a common or garden adventure, for more - than one reason. - </p> - <p> - The woman, or rather girl, who was concerned in it, for looking at her in - a severe light she did not appeal to be more than twenty, bore upon her no - marks of the shameless adventuress. It was easy to see that she was not a - member of his own world, the world of plutocracy mingled into aristocracy - by judicious intermarriage. The "county" would not, of course, open their - doors to her. According to her own account, the respectable "villadom" of - the sleepy old town had not called upon her, on account of the absence of - convincing credentials. - </p> - <p> - The meeting happened in this way. Hugh found himself with a blank - afternoon, an afternoon that had not been filled up. He could call at lots - of houses and get tea. But, at this period, he was becoming a little - fed-up with the Blankfield teas, the simpering girls, the astute mothers - who wanted to take the heir of the Murchison millions off his guard, and - hook him for a son-in-law. - </p> - <p> - Coming from a long line of successful tradesmen, Hugh had rather less - brains than he ought to have acquired by heredity. Still, he was no fool. - As long as a proposition was not too complex, he could size it up pretty - accurately. And he sized up the Blankfield hospitality at its true worth. - </p> - <p> - He walked down the High Street, and turned into the first tea-shop. It was - a well-known establishment, and the dashing members of the Twenty-fifth - were wont to invite hither for tea some of the Blankfield maidens who Were - not too particular as to chaperonage. - </p> - <p> - He expected to find here a good few of his brother officers. To his - surprise, he did not see one. But the room was very full. To a casual - observer, every table seemed occupied. He was about to turn away, when a - waitress, who knew him well, touched him on the arm. - </p> - <p> - "It's quite all right, Captain Murchison,"—Hugh had arrived at - seniority very early: "there's a table up there at the far end. There's - only a young lady there, and she has very nearly finished her tea." - </p> - <p> - The young lady in question was quite young; Hugh decided from the first - swift glance at her that she could not be more than twenty. She was - exceedingly pretty, with wavy light hair and soft brown eyes. She wore an - air of composure remarkable in one so youthful. - </p> - <p> - The young man knew her well by sight, as did his brother officers. She was - frequently to be seen in the High Street, flitting in and out shops, - sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a rather common-looking person, - some ten years her senior. It was said they were brother and sister and - their name was Burton. - </p> - <p> - They had arrived in Blankfield about a couple of months ago, and taken a - moderate sized house on the London Road, a little in the outskirts of the - town. But though they had been here for these two months, they knew - nobody. Not a soul had called upon them: for the villadom of Blankfield - was very select, and had to know something about newcomers before it - stretched out a welcoming hand. About the Burtons nothing seemed to be - known, and until some reliable information was forthcoming, they would be - ostracised. - </p> - <p> - The shop was very crowded, and most girls of her age might have felt - embarrassed by her loneliness. But, although many admiring glances were - levelled at her from the few masculine occupants, she seemed quite - unperturbed and unconscious, looking neither to the right nor the left, - but taking in everything that was going on, under lowered eyelids veiling - those pretty brown eyes. - </p> - <p> - She gave him one swift glance as he sat down, and then went on composedly - with her tea. There was nothing in the glance that was either provocative - or inviting. Of the two, Hugh felt much more embarrassed than she did. He - wondered if she was as stand-offish as she looked. If he addressed a - remark to her, would she snub him? - </p> - <p> - Anyway he determined to put it to the proof. "I do hope I am not - intruding, but it was Hobson's choice, you know; this is the only vacant - table." - </p> - <p> - No, she was not going to snub him. On the contrary, she gave him a very - pleasant smile, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was a - refined and pleasant one. - </p> - <p> - "There is hardly any question of intruding in a public place like this. I - cannot expect them to turn customers away in order that I may sit by - myself." - </p> - <p> - It was not a bad beginning, thought Hugh. It was evident she was not - disinclined to enter into a little desultory conversation with a man who - she knew was a gentleman, and not likely to take undue advantage of her - absence of conventionality. - </p> - <p> - Hugh went on with growing boldness. He had often said to his great chum - Jack Pomfret that it was a thousand pities this pretty girl was not in - Blankfield Society, she seemed so much more attractive than the other - girls who were in it. - </p> - <p> - "We haven't been introduced, of course, but I know you very well by sight. - There is hardly a day that I do not meet you about here. And I know your - name, too. You are Miss Burton, are you not? And you live with your - brother at that nice little house on the London Road." - </p> - <p> - "Quite right." Miss Burton nodded her pretty head. She added with a little - silvery laugh: "we can't be introduced, unless the waitress took the kind - office upon herself, for I don't know a soul in the place. we have been - here two months, and we have been let severely alone. I suppose if we - stayed here for twenty years it would be the same. Of course, we didn't - expect to get into 'county' Society, but we must be quite as good as heaps - of people in the town and outskirts." - </p> - <p> - Hugh was a little embarrassed by these very frank remarks. He observed - lamely that it was a shame, and indulged in some rather inane remarks on - the snobbishness of provincial towns. - </p> - <p> - "You must find it awfully dull," he ventured after a brief pause. During - the short silence, Miss Burton had ordered herself some more tea. It was - evident that she was not desirous of abruptly terminating this pleasant <i>tête-à-tête</i>. - The waitress drew her own conclusions from the further order, and smiled a - little as she turned away. - </p> - <p> - "I should be a hypocrite if I pretended the contrary. Of course, - housekeeping takes up a good bit of my time, and I read a good deal, and - do a lot of fancy-work. But all the same, it is a state of isolation, not - an outside person to speak to from one week-end to the other. Of course I - hear all that is going on from the tradespeople, and I know the names of - the principal persons here whom I constantly meet and never speak to. I - know, for instance, that you are Captain Murchison. I think I know the - names of all your brother officers." - </p> - <p> - "What made you come here, if it is not a rude question?" asked Hugh - bluntly. "It was surely a risky experiment, landing yourself in a town - like this, without any introductions." - </p> - <p> - "I told my brother so when he first proposed it," replied Miss Burton - calmly. "But, although he is one of the best fellows in the world, he is - frightfully obstinate. He had stayed at an hotel here for a few days some - years ago, and he had taken a violent fancy to the place. He was quite - sure everybody would make a rush for us, the moment we arrived." - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton proceeded to draw on her gloves. During this explanatory - conversation, she had consumed her second cup of tea. She called the - waitress and paid her bill. - </p> - <p> - "I must be going now," she said. "I have quite enjoyed this little chat, - although I am sure you will think very badly of me for having confided so - much to a stranger. I really don't know what made me do it—I suppose - I got tired of having kept silence for so long." - </p> - <p> - Yes, he could understand that. Poor, pretty little girl, just at an age - when all the pleasures of youth should be open to her, and to have to pass - her life in the society of that rather common-looking brother, good fellow - as she declared him to be. - </p> - <p> - "I have enjoyed the meeting immensely, too," said Hugh heartily. "I only - wish we could come across each other at some of these Blankfield houses, - stupid and dull as they generally are." - </p> - <p> - And then, the pretty Miss Burton fired her last shot as she rose to leave: - </p> - <p> - "I have been unconventional enough from the beginning, and if I can do it - without blushing, I am going to be more unconventional still. If you cared - to come up to Rosemount one afternoon, I am sure my brother would be - pleased to see you." - </p> - <p> - Murchison was very embarrassed by the suggestion, although she did not - proffer it in any bold fashion. - </p> - <p> - "I shall be delighted," he stammered. "I will run up one afternoon." Of - course when he said this he had very little intention of keeping his - promise. To enjoy a mild sort of flirtation with an exceedingly pretty - girl was one thing. To go to her house and make the acquaintance of her - brother, who he was certain was not a gentleman, was quite a different - proposition, and might land him in all sorts of unpleasant complications. - </p> - <p> - He also had an uneasy conviction that Miss Burton was remarkably - self-assured for such a young woman. She had spoken of blushing when she - gave him the invitation, but she had not done so. Not the faintest colour - showed on her cheek, and the glance that met his was perfectly steady and - unwavering. She must either be very innocent, or, young as she was, she - had acquired the experience and self-possession of a much older woman. He - would like to think it all out. - </p> - <p> - The girl nodded in a friendly fashion, and tripped away, leaving Hugh - Murchison to finish his tea, and ponder over what had happened. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Hugh got back - to his quarters the first thing he did was to hunt up his great friend - Jack Pomfret. He found that young gentleman stretched in front of a - blazing fire—ft was a very chilly March—and smoking a cigar - nearly as big as himself. Jack Pomfret, it may be said, was quite a small - man, of about the size and weight that would be associated with the - coxswain of a 'Varsity boat. - </p> - <p> - Next to Murchison, perhaps Pomfret was the most popular man in the - regiment. He was certainly the poorest, for although he came of an - aristocratic family, the said family had very little to bless themselves - with. - </p> - <p> - If it had been left to his immediate relatives, Jack would have had to - enter a line regiment, and subsist on his pay, supplemented by more or - less regular small remittances from his hard-up father. - </p> - <p> - But fortune had smiled on Jack when he was in his cradle. A rich - great-aunt had been his godmother, and from the date of his christening - had taken him under her wing. She had been crossed in love when quite a - girl, would never marry. Jack Pomfret had a handsome, but not an - extravagant, allowance now, and he would come into his great-aunt's - fortune when she died. - </p> - <p> - Jack always complained that his aunt was a bit thrifty, and did not fully - understand the imperative necessities of a young subaltern in an expensive - regiment like the Twenty-fifth. - </p> - <p> - As a matter of fact, Miss Harding, his mother's youngest sister, suffered - from acute indigestion, existed principally on soda-water and biscuits, - lived in a comparatively small house with one manservant and two maids, - and saved a great deal every year out of a large income. She loved Jack - very much, but she had little or no sympathy with the follies and - indiscretions of youth. She had a hazy sort of idea that an officer should - live within his pay, as she lived well within her income. Needless to say - that Jack had long disabused her of this silly idea. - </p> - <p> - "Great tidings, old man," cried Murchison, breaking in upon the meditative - little man, blowing great clouds of smoke. "I'll give you six guesses." - </p> - <p> - "Not in a guessing mood," returned Jack shortly. "All my brain-power is - used up. I am trying to concoct a letter to the dear old aunt—God - bless her, she is one of the best!—insinuating gently that a cheque - for a couple of hundred would be very convenient at the present moment." - </p> - <p> - Murchison took a seat. "Silly old ass," he said in a kindly tone, "if you - want a couple of hundred have it from me, and don't worry about the aunt. - You can pay me when she stumps-up. From what you have told me about your - respected relative, it might be a lengthy business. I suppose you will - plead debts. She might offer to discharge them, and ask the names of the - creditors. In that case, old chap, you wouldn't handle much personally, - would you?" - </p> - <p> - Pomfret laughed genially. He was always very hard-up, but he was never - depressed for very long. There was always a silver lining to every cloud. - </p> - <p> - "She's the sweetest, dearest soul on God's earth," he said in a tone of - conviction. "But you know, Hughie old man, she doesn't understand—I - say emphatically, she doesn't understand—you know what I mean. She - is early Victorian. As to your suggestion, I appreciate it very much, but - emphatically, no." He added, with a whimsical smile: "Yours is a loan, I - should have to pay back; Heaven knows when I could do so. The dear old - aunt, well, it is a gift, no question of paying back. I haven't thought it - all out yet, but in the early cool of to-morrow morning, I shall write her - a beautiful and touching letter. I know by experience it will bring a - cheque." - </p> - <p> - "You're an artful young devil, I know," said Murchison. Straight as a die - himself, he was not too appreciative of his friend's diplomatic methods. - </p> - <p> - On the other hand, was he justified in criticising? He had a magnificent - allowance from his opulent father. Poor Jack, with a somewhat puritanical - and niggardly aunt at his back, had just to worry along, and live in this - expensive regiment from hand to mouth. - </p> - <p> - There was no more to be said on this subject. - </p> - <p> - "Well, Jack, are you in a mood to listen to my news?" - </p> - <p> - Pomfret leaned forward, and flicked the ash oft his cigar. "Yes, I think I - am. Begone dull care! I shall write that letter the first thing to-morrow - morning." - </p> - <p> - "Well, I have made the acquaintance of that pretty Burton girl, whom - nobody in Blankfield visits." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret emitted a little chuckling sound. "Lucky devil. How did you do - it? I thought she was unapproachable. She walks down the High Street, - 'with a haughty stare, and her nose in the air,' and looks neither to left - nor right. How did you manage it, old man?" - </p> - <p> - Hugh laughed. "Oh, as easy as anything. Just dropped in to Winkley's, - expecting to see a lot of you fellows with your best girls. Not a soul - there I knew. Room full—every table full, save for one at which Miss - Burton was sitting alone—sat at the one table, <i>vis-à-vis</i> with - Miss Burton. There it is in a nutshell." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret grinned broadly. "Oh, Hughie, what I would have given for your - chance. You know I am awfully gone on that girl, she is so sweet and - dainty, far and away the prettiest girl in Blankfield. What did you make - of your chance?" - </p> - <p> - "As much as could be made in five or ten minutes. She told me a lot about - things, her disappointment in finding that the Blankfield people would not - call upon her, and that, excepting her brother, she had not a soul to - speak to." - </p> - <p> - "Poor little soul!" said Mr. Pomfret, in a voice of the deepest sympathy. - "Poor little soul!" he repeated. - </p> - <p> - "Well, we talked for some little time, some ten minutes perhaps, I don't - think it could have been much longer. And then—then—you will - never believe it, Jack—she asked me to call, and be introduced to - her brother." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret was quite young, in fact he was the baby of the regiment. But - having been educated at a public school, he had learned a certain amount - of worldly wisdom rather early. He gave expression to it now. - </p> - <p> - "If she were living with her mother, or a maiden aunt, Hughie, the thing - would be so easy. But the brother, we have seen him walking beside that - lovely girl. It would be difficult to class him. It would be perhaps too - much to say he was either a bounder or a cad—he's not boisterous - enough for the one or common enough for the other. But clearly, he's not a - gentleman or the imitation of one." - </p> - <p> - "No," answered Hugh. "Your description of the brother quite fits. He is - neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red-herring, as the old saw has it. - Then the girl is so different. She is, to an extent, frank and - unconventional." - </p> - <p> - "She must be, or she wouldn't have asked you to call upon her," - interrupted the astute Mr. Pomfret. - </p> - <p> - "Quite so, I perfectly agree. But upon my soul, Jack, she has the most - perfect manners. She does these sort of things in such a way that you - cease to wonder why she does them." - </p> - <p> - "I understand." Mr. Pomfret looked very wise. "There's a wonderful - fascination about the girl. She radiates it, even when you pass her in the - street. By Gad, there's not a young woman in Blankfield who can hold a - candle to her. Well, Hughie, what are you going to do about the - invitation?" - </p> - <p> - "I'm in two minds, old man, to go or stay away. There's the brother, you - see." - </p> - <p> - "There's the brother," repeated Mr. Pomfret, "and a dashed disappointing - sort of a brother, too. If it had only been a mother, or a maiden aunt! - what a priceless opportunity! And yet it seems a bit too good to be lost." - </p> - <p> - "But the brother, what about him?" Hugh insisted. - </p> - <p> - "The brother is, of course, a stumbling-block. You can't ask him to Mess. - 'Old Fireworks' will stand more from you than anybody, but he would never - stand Burton. He would be calling him 'Your Grace' or 'Your worship' or - something." - </p> - <p> - "Old Fireworks," it may be explained, was the nickname of the respected - Colonel of the gallant Twenty-fifth Lancers. It had been conferred upon - him, on account of his explosive temper. He was also a rigid - disciplinarian. - </p> - <p> - "I shall not go," said Hugh after a brief pause. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret was thinking deeply. He pulled at his big cigar in a - meditative fashion. Then at length, out of his wisdom, he spoke: - </p> - <p> - "Let us reason this out, my well-beloved friend. A very pretty girl asks - you to go and see her, she is unfortunately hampered by an undesirable - brother. You accept their hospitality, but you know he is not a man you - can ask to Mess. But you can take him to an hotel, and feed him up there. - Tell him the Colonel's kicked up rough about guests, any lie you like, to - save his <i>amour propre</i>." - </p> - <p> - "A good idea, Jack. Have you anything more to say? Don't forget that if I - go to Rosemount, the news will be all over Blankfield in five minutes." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret snapped his fingers. "Who cares a fig for the Blankfield - people? Everybody knows, or ought to know, that a soldier loves and rides - away. And the Blankfield girls are dull enough, Heaven knows, I wouldn't - give a thought to them." - </p> - <p> - "Then you advise me to call, and be introduced to the brother, eh?" - </p> - <p> - "Of course, we shall be off in another two months, and leave only tender - memories behind us." Mr. Pomfret was a practical person, if ever there was - one. "Let us seize the passing day. By the way, have you any objection to - taking me up to call with you, when you go? Say no, if you have the - slightest objection." - </p> - <p> - Hugh Murchison looked at him squarely. "No, old chap, not the slightest. - The girl interests me in a way, chiefly, I think, because I can't quite - make her out, can't determine whether she is very cunning or very simple, - but I am not attracted in the ordinary sense. I take it you are." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret's look of indifference changed to one of gravity. "Yes, Hughie, I - am. I would like to see that girl at close quarters." - </p> - <p> - Hugh rose. "Right, we will call together, and in the meantime we will keep - it from the other fellows?" - </p> - <p> - "Good Heavens, I should think so, we should be chaffed to death," was - Jack's fervent answer. - </p> - <p> - A few days later, the two young men walked to Rosemount. It was a villa - sort of house, set in a small garden, very carefully kept. The windows - were ornamented with boxes of flowers. Small as the establishment was, - there was an air of elegance about it, an elegance perhaps of restricted - means but of refined taste. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret nudged his senior officer. "I say, they've turned it into a very - decent sort of little crib, haven't they? I should say that is due to the - girl." - </p> - <p> - Hugh laughed. "Perhaps it is the brother after all. He might be an artist, - you know. Artists are often very rum-looking chaps." - </p> - <p> - "Artist be hanged," said Pomfret emphatically. "I'll bet you a fiver he - isn't an artist, whatever he is. A 'bookie' or a 'bookie's' tout, more - likely." - </p> - <p> - At the end of this short colloquy, they had reached the hall door. A very - smart maidservant, in a becoming cap and apron, opened it. In answer to - their inquiry, Miss Burton was in. - </p> - <p> - They were shown into the drawing-room. The young mistress of the house was - reclining in an easy-chair; an open book lay on her lap. - </p> - <p> - She advanced towards them with that peculiar air of self-possession which - had so impressed Hugh on his first meeting in the tea-shop. A hostess with - years of social experience could not have been more at her ease than this - young girl. - </p> - <p> - "How nice of you to come, after that very vague invitation," she said, in - her clear, silvery voice. - </p> - <p> - She addressed Murchison first, and then turned swiftly to Pomfret, in - whose eyes she doubtless recognised frank admiration of her peculiar - attractiveness. - </p> - <p> - "I know your friend is going to introduce you in proper form. But it is - really quite unnecessary. I know you are Mr. Pomfret. I have learned the - names of all the officers from the tradespeople, also, my only friends in - Blankfield. Perhaps Captain Murchison has told you what I confided to him - the other day, that we are as isolated here as if we were on a desert - island." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret sat down beside her on a small Chesterfield. From his vantage - point he could gaze into the beautiful eyes, he could note the lustre of - that fair, wavy hair. - </p> - <p> - "A beastly shame," growled the young subaltern, at a loss for appropriate - words to express the enormities of Blankfield Society. - </p> - <p> - She turned away lightly, as if the subject interested her no further. - </p> - <p> - "I think we will have tea. My brother is engaged in scientific pursuits. - when he can tear himself away, he will join us. Captain Murchison, will - you kindly ring the bell?" - </p> - <p> - Truly, she had the manners of a woman of the world. She took the homage of - the two men as an accomplished fact. The villadom of Blankfield could not - produce such a hostess, so free from fussiness or exaggerated hospitality. - You would have to go to the "county" to find her parallel. The two men - exchanged appreciative glances. Whatever her origin, Miss Burton could - shine in any circle in which she found herself permanently, or - temporarily, located. - </p> - <p> - The tea was served, and over the tea-cups they chatted in desultory - fashion. Then the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. Burton appeared. From - the moment of his appearance, the atmosphere seemed to be changed. He - advanced towards them with outstretched hands. His manner was extremely - cordial, but it went beyond the limits of good taste. His tones were - breezy but blusterous. There was a rasping and a vulgar ring in his voice. - </p> - <p> - "Welcome to our humble abode, gentlemen. It is very brave of you to come - and visit the boycotted ones." - </p> - <p> - Hugh and Jack Pomfret fidgeted in their chairs. This common-looking young - man was a bit too communicative about his private affairs. They had a - slight suspicion that he had been indulging in alcohol, his manner was so - unrestrained. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burton sank down in his chair, and took a cup of tea from the hands of - his attentive sister. The visitors did not see it, but she shot a warning - glance at him, and in face of that warning glance, Mr. Burton, by a strong - effort, pulled himself together. - </p> - <p> - "You see, gentlemen, I feel very sore about this matter; my sister has a - calmer temperament, and she takes things as they come. Here we came from - the North of Ireland, from a little town where we were highly looked up - to, where we knew every man, woman and child in the place. We came here, - and, as I say, we are boycotted." - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton looked at him severely. "George, I do not think it is very - good taste of you to inflict your grievances upon these gentlemen, who - have just come to make an afternoon call. Don't you think you could soothe - your nerves better by getting back to your laboratory, or whatever you - call it?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burton accepted the hint, and rose. He waved a genial hand towards the - visitors. - </p> - <p> - "You will excuse me for a few moments. I have a most important experiment - on. But I shall be back very shortly: I shall see you again before you - leave." - </p> - <p> - The two young men devoutly wished that they might not see him again. The - man was a confirmed and innate vulgarian. Both he and his sister, no - doubt, felt very sore about their social ostracism, but how different were - the methods of expression indulged in by the two. She explained the - situation with a proud dignity, hiding her chagrin with a show of - indifference. He was exposing his gaping wounds to the public eye with an - air of ostentation. - </p> - <p> - "I must ask you to excuse my brother," said Miss Burton when her ebullient - relative had left the room. "He has the true Irish temperament, it is - impossible for him to conceal his feelings. He would like to go down the - High Street, trailing his coat behind him, and inviting the residents to - tread upon it, in real Irish fashion, so that he could indulge in a free - fight with them." - </p> - <p> - The young men laughed cordially. They felt that a somewhat awkward - situation had been saved by her ready tact, her rather humorous - explanation. - </p> - <p> - But Murchison, the more level-headed of the two, looked at her very - fixedly, as he said, "But you are Irish, too. How is it that you have - learned to control your feelings so successfully?" - </p> - <p> - At such a direct question, he would have expected her to flush a little; - at any rate, show some slight symptoms of embarrassment. But this - remarkably self-possessed girl of twenty or thereabouts was as cool as a - cucumber. She laughed her little silvery laugh. - </p> - <p> - "My brother and I are as wide apart as the North and South Poles," she - said lightly. "Many people have commented on the fact. Would you like to - know the reason?" - </p> - <p> - She directed a rather challenging glance in the direction of Pomfret, whom - she rightly judged to be more susceptible to feminine influence than his - friend. - </p> - <p> - "I should like to very much," was the subaltern's answer. That eloquent - glance had completely subjugated the young man. - </p> - <p> - "Well, listen. My father was a hard-riding, gambling, hard-drinking Irish - squire, who squandered his money and left little but debts behind him. My - brother takes after him in certain qualities, thank Heaven not his least - desirables ones. My mother was an Englishwoman, rather a puritanical sort - of woman, who fell in love, perhaps a little injudiciously, and I think - wore her life out in the attempt to curb my father's unhappy propensities. - I take after my mother. You understand? George is really my half-brother - by my father's first wife." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret nodded his head gravely. "I quite understand," he said, and his - tone was one of conviction. Murchison preserved a benevolent attitude of - neutrality. He was still thinking it all out. - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton was very pretty, nay, more than pretty, very charming, very - attractive, gifted with a marvellous self-possession, very clever, very - adroit. But was she as genuine and frank as she seemed? Pomfret evidently - thought so, but Murchison was not quite sure. - </p> - <p> - Mr. George Burton, who took after his Irish father in several respects, - according to his sister's account, made a re-appearance before the - visitors left. There had been just a little suspicion at first that he had - been indulging in the hard-drinking habits of his male parent. If so, that - suspicion must be at once removed. He was bright, breezy and blusterous, - but he was certainly master of himself. He advanced with the most cordial - air. - </p> - <p> - "Gentlemen, I feel I owe you an apology. I had no right to intrude my - private grievances upon you, even although I am very possessed with them. - Please put it down to my Irish temperament. You will forgive me, I am - sure." - </p> - <p> - He stretched out appealing hands, the hands of the plebeian as Murchison - was quick to notice, nails bitten to the quick, coarse fingers and thumbs. - </p> - <p> - Murchison quietly ignored the outstretched hand. So did Pomfret, - subjugated as he was with the charm and attractiveness of Miss Burton. He - did not quite feel that he wanted to shake hands with this very terrible - brother, who took after his Irish father. - </p> - <p> - "I apologise most sincerely, gentlemen," he repeated, "for my outburst - just now. I had no right to inflict upon you a recital of my private - grievances against the inhabitants of this wretched town. But I am a wild, - excitable Irishman, whatever is in my mind has to come out. Please forgive - me; I know my sister Norah never will." - </p> - <p> - He looked appealingly at the girl who sat there, calm and self-possessed - as always, with a slight expression of contempt upon her charming face. - </p> - <p> - "I have already made excuses for you to Captain Murchison and Mr. - Pomfret," she said coldly. - </p> - <p> - The visitors were very much embarrassed. What could they say to this - dreadful person who seemed so utterly lacking in all the qualities of good - breeding? Hugh remained silent, Pomfret opened his lips and murmured - something about the whole affair being very regrettable. - </p> - <p> - But these somewhat incoherent remarks were quite enough to restore Mr. - Burton to his normal state of easy buoyancy. He smiled affably. - </p> - <p> - "So that is all over. Well, I am delighted to see you, and it will not be - my fault if your first visit is your last. Now, I propose you come round - and have a little bit of dinner with us soon, so that we may get to know - each other better. Any night that you are at liberty will suit us. <i>We</i> - are not overwhelmed with invitations, as you can understand from what I - have told you." - </p> - <p> - If Murchison had been by himself, he would have politely shelved the - invitation. Miss Burton, who took after her English mother, was quite - decent and ladylike. The brother was insufferable. Vulgarity, so to speak, - oozed from him. He was offensive even in his geniality. In short, he was - impossible. - </p> - <p> - But Pomfret took the wind out of his senior's sails. - </p> - <p> - "Sorry we are quite full up this week, but hardly anything on next. Shall - we say Monday?" - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton took the matter out of her brother's hands by turning directly - to Murchison. - </p> - <p> - "Monday, of course, will suit us. Will it suit you?" she asked him - pointedly. - </p> - <p> - Taken by surprise, the unhappy young man could only mutter a reluctant - affirmative. A few minutes later they left, pledged to partake of the - Burtons' hospitality on the following Monday. - </p> - <p> - When they were safely outside, Murchison spoke severely to his brother - officer. - </p> - <p> - "You've let us in for a nice thing. If you had left it to me, I would have - got out of that dinner somehow." - </p> - <p> - "But I didn't want to get out of it," replied the unabashed junior. "We - knew the brother was pretty bad all along. I don't know that on the whole - he is much worse than we imagined. But she's a ripping girl. I want to see - more of her." - </p> - <p> - "You silly young ass," growled Murchison; "I believe you've fallen head - over ears in love with her." - </p> - <p> - And Pomfret, one of the most mercurial and light-hearted of subalterns, - answered quite gravely: - </p> - <p> - "I rather fancy I have. I've never met a girl who appealed to me in quite - the same sort of way." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s a result of his - visit to Rosemount, Hugh Murchison was very perturbed in his mind. He - blamed himself severely for having been tempted into that rather intimate - conversation at the tea-shop. Miss Burton was attractive enough, and - lady-like enough, to excuse any man for taking advantage of his obvious - opportunities, but he had been a fool to go farther. He ought never to - have set his foot in the house of people of whom he knew nothing. - </p> - <p> - It was all Jack Pomfret's fault, he decided hastily. It was his influence, - his keen desire to make the girl's acquaintance, that had weighed down his - friend's prudence. For, if left to himself, Hugh was quite sure that he - would have dallied and dallied till all inclination to call at Rosemount - had died down. - </p> - <p> - And Pomfret had owned to being greatly impressed with the fair young - chatelaine. He had admitted that he had never met a girl who had appealed - to him in quite the same sort of way. In fact, it was easy to see he had - fallen desperately in love with her. - </p> - <p> - And Jack was just one of those light-hearted, susceptible sort of chaps - who have not an atom of common-sense in their composition, who will obey - their impulses, regardless of consequences. - </p> - <p> - And he was not his own master. His career was practically at the disposal - of his somewhat puritanical aunt. It was just on the cards that Jack would - be mad enough to propose to this girl who had so bewitched him. One could - imagine how the aunt would receive such a communication. - </p> - <p> - There was one little ray of hope, however. If Jack did commit such a - crowning folly, he would be far too honourable not to acquaint Miss Burton - with his circumstances. Hugh was fairly convinced that the young lady knew - how to take care of herself. And, even if she did fall in love with Jack, - as he had done with her, and be inclined to make a fool of herself, there - was the objectionable brother to be reckoned with. He would certainly not - allow his sister to engage herself to a man, except with the consent of - that man's family. - </p> - <p> - All the same, it was as well to avoid any embarrassing entanglements, if - possible. It is easy to retrace your steps when you have only just - started. - </p> - <p> - With this object in view, Murchison sought his friend on the Sunday - preceding the day on which they were to present themselves at Rosemount. - </p> - <p> - "Jack, old man, I have been thinking——" he began. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret lifted a warning finger. "My dear friend and mentor, don't - indulge in such violent processes. It's very bad for you." - </p> - <p> - "Don't be an ass, Jack. You are not really funny when you say that sort of - thing. I've been thinking over this business to-morrow, and, frankly, I - don't relish the prospect. We had better cut it out." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret's face took on an obstinate expression. "You are speaking for - yourself, of course. For my part, I don't intend to break my appointment. - In my opinion, it would be an awfully low-down thing to do. If you didn't - want to go, you shouldn't have accepted." - </p> - <p> - It was evident the young man was not in a very reasonable frame of mind, - equally evident he would require very careful handling. - </p> - <p> - "Now, Jack, don't get off the handles. You know you are an awfully - impetuous chap, and that I have much the cooler head of the two. I have - been thinking it all out the last day or two, and I don't like the look of - it." - </p> - <p> - "You informed me just now that you had been thinking," replied Mr. Pomfret - in the same sarcastic strain. "There is no need to dwell upon the fact. It - is obvious." - </p> - <p> - But the elder man was not to be ruffled. If anything unpleasant came of - this sudden acquaintance he would lay the blame on himself for having - mentioned that little incident of the tea-shop, and inspired the mercurial - Jack's love of the daring and adventurous. - </p> - <p> - "I don't know that I did accept, as a matter of fact, except by - implication. I was about to return an evasive answer, leave it in the air, - so to speak, when you cut in and jumped at the invitation for both." - </p> - <p> - This was true, and Mr. Pomfret's air lost a little of its jaunty - confidence. "Well, if you think I lugged you in, get out of it yourself. - Of course you will have to tell some beastly lie that they will see - through at once. Anyway I am going, and that's flat." - </p> - <p> - "If you go, I shall go," said Hugh firmly. "But I would like you to listen - to me for a few moments, and put things before you as they present - themselves to me." - </p> - <p> - "Fire away, then," was Pomfret's answer, but it was delivered in a very - ungracious tone. - </p> - <p> - "Of course we are both agreed about the brother," began Hugh mildly. - </p> - <p> - The other interrupted impatiently: "The brother be hanged. We are not - going to the house for the brother's sake, but because of the sister. - what's the use of blinking the fact? If you had met him in the tea-shop - instead of her, I don't suppose you would have wasted a word on him, no - more should I. But I don't see why that pretty girl should be ostracised - because of him." - </p> - <p> - "I don't quite see, under the circumstances, how you can separate them," - pursued the obstinate Hugh. "I should like to turn off, just for a moment - to the sister, and consider her." - </p> - <p> - "Go ahead," said Mr. Pomfret in a somewhat sullen tone. He was keeping his - impulsive and fiery nature under control, out of his great respect for his - friend. But it was very doubtful if he would stand much criticism even - from one so respected. - </p> - <p> - "I have not a word to say against her appearance or her manners. I will go - further, and say there is not a girl in Blankfield, or for the matter of - that in the 'county' itself, who gives the impression of a thorough - gentlewoman more convincingly than she does." Pomfret's face brightened at - these words. "Oh, then you admit that, and you have knocked about the - world a few years longer than I have. I am of the same opinion, but if you - say it, it must be so." - </p> - <p> - "I do say it unhesitatingly, but mind you, I am only judging from outside - appearances. Now, how comes it that such a refined and ladylike girl as - that should have such a bounder of a brother? There is a mystery there." - </p> - <p> - Jack Pomfret prepared to argue. "I don't quite agree that he is a bounder, - he is not quite boisterous enough for that. Let us agree on a common - definition—namely, that he is bad form. That fits him, I think." - </p> - <p> - "And the sister is very good form. You can't deny that there is a - mystery." - </p> - <p> - But the young subaltern developed a quite surprising ingenuity in - argument. - </p> - <p> - "She just simply calls him her brother," sharply, "but she has told you he - is her halfbrother by a first marriage—father a gentleman, mother a - common person, hence the bad form. A second time, the father married a - woman of his own class, hence Norah Burton. Norah knows him for a good - sort, if a bit rough, and sticks to him. That's a reasonable theory, - anyway." - </p> - <p> - "More ingenious than reasonable perhaps," commented Murchison with an - amused smile. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret went on, warming to his subject. "And, hang it all, if we speak of - bounders—and mind you, I won't admit he is a bounder in the strict - sense of the term—is there a family in England without them?" - </p> - <p> - "Quite the same sort, do you think?" was Hugh's question. - </p> - <p> - "Look here, I'm not going to be impertinent, and ask if you can point to - any amongst your own connections, but I know something of my own family. - I've got a cousin, good blood on both sides. He's been a bounder from the - time he learned to talk, sets your teeth on edge; as some fellow said, - every time he opens his mouth he puts his foot into it. By Gad, this - fellow Burton is a polished gentleman to him. If George showed his nose in - this regiment they would send him to Coventry in five minutes." - </p> - <p> - "As they did that chap last year," remarked Hugh, alluding to an offensive - young man who had been compelled to send in his papers, owing to the fact - that his general demeanour had not come up to the somewhat exalted - standard of the gallant Twenty-fifth. - </p> - <p> - "Precisely," assented Pomfret. "But you were going to give me some views - about the girl. Again I say, fire away." - </p> - <p> - "Well, to go back to that meeting in the tea-shop. It was, to say the - least, a little unconventional for a young girl to invite an utter - stranger to call upon her." - </p> - <p> - "You were not an utter stranger," retorted Jack doggedly. "She had heard - who you were, perhaps from the tradespeople. She knew you were a - gentleman, she knew your name, Captain Murchison. Hang it all, if you had - met her in one of these dull Blankfield houses, and she had been - introduced by a hostess about whom you both knew precious little, and - asked you to call, being the mistress of her brother's house, you would - have thought it quite the correct and proper thing. So would every man in - the barracks. Don't people strike up acquaintances in hotels, and - sometimes trains?" - </p> - <p> - "They generally find out something about each other before they pursue the - acquaintance," suggested Murchison. "Look here, old man, you know as well - as I do, you are arguing all round the point. It would be precious easy - for the Burtons to say who and what they were, and furnish some proper - credentials. If they did that, I daresay all Blankfield would call upon - them, and swallow the brother for the sake of the very charming sister." - </p> - <p> - "Well, I'll pump her to-night, and get out all you want to know," retorted - Mr. Pomfret confidently. "I don't go so far as to say they will be able to - refer us to Burke or Debrett. Decent middle-class people, I expect." - </p> - <p> - It was useless to argue with such an optimist. "You've accounted for the - brother, I remember, by your ingenious theory. Well, you've made up your - mind to go then?" - </p> - <p> - "Most certainly I have. You do as you like, but while we are on the - subject of good form, it is not a pretty thing to accept an invitation, - and then excuse yourself at the eleventh hour by an obvious lie." - </p> - <p> - "Under ordinary circumstances, you would be quite right. It has not - occurred to you that we were rather rushed into this dinner, then—that - we were, so to speak, jumped at?" - </p> - <p> - "It might look like it at first blush," admitted Mr. Pomfret reluctantly. - "But here are two poor devils, marooned, as it were, in this snobbish - town, and they naturally jump at the first people who show them the - slightest civility. They must simply be aching to exchange a word with - their fellow-creatures. Well, I am going to exchange several with them, I - promise you." - </p> - <p> - Hugh felt it was useless. When Pomfret got in these moods, it was waste of - time to reason with him. He felt uneasy, however. He had promised his - family to look after him, and he felt a certain responsibility. It was to - be hoped the sudden infatuation for a pretty face would expire as quickly - as it had been born. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps a closer association with the bounder brother would produce a - chastening influence. But then Jack seemed bounder-proof. Had he not - alluded to a well-born cousin, beside whom Burton shone as a polished - gentleman? - </p> - <p> - Anyway, he must not desert his young and very impulsive friend. But it was - with considerable reluctance that he accompanied him to Rosemount on the - Monday night. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>ight o'clock was - the hour appointed for dinner, this fact scoring in the Burtons' favour, - as evincing a knowledge of the habits of good society. Even a few of the - most select hostesses in Blankville, who ought to have known better, made - a base compromise with half-past seven. - </p> - <p> - The two men arrived about five minutes before the time. The young hostess - was awaiting them in the drawing-room, attired in some filmy creation that - made her look very charming and ethereal. Soft lights from shaded lamps - played about her, and lent a touch of perfection to the picture. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burton was attired in the usual conventional evening dress of the - English gentleman. One would have guessed him the sort of man who would - wear a ready-made tie. Not at all. He had tied the bow himself, and with a - masterly hand. Pomfret even, who was admitted to be the Beau Brummel of - his regiment, could not have done it better. - </p> - <p> - It is generally supposed that a common man looks more common still when he - dons evening attire. "George" was an exception to the rule. His black - clothes became him, and lent him a certain air of dignity, which was - wanting when he assumed everyday garments. Even Murchison, prejudiced as - he was against him, was forced to admit to himself that the "bounder" for - once looked quite respectable. Pomfret, ever leaning to the charitable - side, felt quite enthusiastic over him, and contrasted him favourably with - his own cousin, who could boast blue blood on both sides. - </p> - <p> - Norah Burton played the hostess as to the manner born, greeting the - visitors with just the right degree of cordiality, quite free from the - effusiveness of most of the Blankfield hostesses. And Burton, taking his - cue from her, was hearty without boisterousness. - </p> - <p> - The young subaltern's heart warmed to her, she was so gracious, so sweet, - and about her there hovered such an air of calm dignity. Rosemount, no - doubt, was honoured by the introduction of such distinguished visitors, - viewed merely from the social point of view, but she did not permit a - suspicion of this to escape her. Rather, judging by her demeanour, the - visitors were honoured by being admitted to Rosemount. - </p> - <p> - "Rather reminds me of a young queen entertaining her subjects," Pomfret - remarked afterwards to his friend in a rather enthusiastic outburst. "I'm - not speaking of the 'county' of course, but these Blankfield women make - you feel they are overwhelmed with your condescension in coming to their - houses, that they are hardly fit to sit at the same table with you." - </p> - <p> - The dinner was plain, but well cooked. The appointments were perfect, - snowy napery, elegant glass and cutlery. One neat-handed maidservant - waited, and waited well. Mr. Burton carved the dishes that were carvable, - there was no pretence at an <i>à la Russe</i> banquet. Their small - establishment could not cope with that, and they did not attempt it. There - was a generous supply of wines: hock, burgundy and champagne. - </p> - <p> - And Mr. Burton, strangely subdued, was quite a good host, hospitable but - not pressing. Murchison thought he must have been having some lessons from - his sister, who seemed intuitively to do the right thing Still suspicious, - he was sure that she had been steadily coaching him how to comport himself - on this important night. - </p> - <p> - For, after all, it must be a feather in their caps, that after having been - coldly cast aside by the <i>élite</i> of Blankfield, they had captured for - their dining acquaintance two of the most popular officers of the - exclusive Twenty-fifth. - </p> - <p> - And Murchison, ever on the watch for any little sign or symptom to confirm - his suspicions, had to admit the pair were behaving perfectly. Not the - slightest sign of elation at the small social triumph manifested itself in - the demeanour of either. Dinner-parties like this might be a common - occurrence for all they showed to the contrary. - </p> - <p> - The substantial portion of the meal was over. Dessert was brought in, with - port, claret and sherry, all of the most excellent vintage. The house was - a small one, and not over-staffed, but there was no evidence of lack of - means. Perhaps the Burtons were wise people in not keeping up a great - show, but spending the greater part of their income on their personal - enjoyments. - </p> - <p> - While the men were still lingering over their dessert, Miss Burton rose. - </p> - <p> - "There are no ladies to support me, so I shall feel quite lonely by - myself," she said in her pretty, softly modulated voice. "Shall we have - coffee in the drawing-room? You men can smoke. It is quite Liberty Hall - here. My brother smokes in every room of the house." - </p> - <p> - Murchison noted the subtle difference between the brother and sister. If - Burton had given the invitation, he would certainly have said, "you - gentlemen." The beautiful Norah would not make a mistake like that. - </p> - <p> - Five minutes afterwards, the three men trooped into the pretty - drawing-room with its subdued, shaded lights. Norah was sitting at a small - table, on which were set the coffee equipage with an assortment of - liqueurs. Decidedly, the Burtons knew how to do things when they received - guests. - </p> - <p> - The "bounder" brother, as Hugh always called him to himself, had drunk - very heavily at dinner of every wine: hock, burgundy and champagne. But - evidently he could carry a big quantity. It would take more than a small - dinner-party like this to knock him over. When he entered the drawing-room - his mien was as subdued as when he had first received his visitors. - </p> - <p> - They drank their coffee round the fair-sized octagonal table, and then - they broke up. Miss Burton retired to a Chesterfield, whither Pom-fret - followed her, as he was bound to do. - </p> - <p> - Burton bustled out of the room, and returned with a huge box of expensive - cigars. He offered the box to Hugh, who took one with a deprecating look - at the young hostess. - </p> - <p> - "We dare not, Miss Burton. Think of your curtains in the morning." - </p> - <p> - "Don't trouble, Captain Murchison," she said, with her charming smile. - "The curtains have to take what comes in this house. George doesn't often - sit in this room, but when he does he always smokes cigars. I told you - this was Liberty Hall, you know." - </p> - <p> - The box was offered to Pomfret, who took one. "Do you smoke, Miss Burton?" - he asked. - </p> - <p> - "Once in a blue moon. I think I will have one to-night, as a little treat. - It is terribly tempting, when I see all you men smoking." The enamoured - Pomfret fetched her a cigarette, hovered over her with a match, till it - was properly lighted, and settled himself again on the Chesterfield. If - that silly old Hugh didn't butt in, he was going to have a nice little - chat with this charming girl, who had played the young hostess to such - perfection. - </p> - <p> - But Hugh was safely out of the way. Burton had piloted him to a - comfortable easy-chair at the extreme end of the drawing-room, and these - two antipathetic persons were apparently engaged in an interesting - conversation. Anyway, Murchison's laugh rang out frequently. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret, it must be confessed, was not very great at conversation. If the - ball were opened, he could set it rolling, but he lacked initiative. He - looked at Miss Burton with admiring eyes, but although he had got her - comfortably to himself on that convenient Chesterfield, he could think of - nothing to say to her. - </p> - <p> - And then a brilliant inspiration came to him. "I say, how gracefully you - smoke." The young woman burst into a pleasant peal of quite spontaneous - laughter. She always had a ready smile at command, but her laughter was - generally a little forced. This time it was perfectly genuine. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, you are really comical," she cried. "How can any girl smoke a - cigarette gracefully? In the first place, it is a most unfeminine thing to - do. All people must smoke them in the same way, and there can never be - anything graceful in the act." - </p> - <p> - "Women don't smoke them the same way," replied the young subaltern, with - the air of a man who has observed and learned. "Most of them chew them, - and hold them at arm's length, as if they were afraid of being bitten." - </p> - <p> - "It's because they don't like smoking, really, and only do it to be in the - fashion. Now, when I am quite in the mood, I actually revel in a - cigarette. I am in the mood to-night." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret leaned forward, with a tender expression on his rather homely, but - good-humoured, countenance. - </p> - <p> - "That means that you feel happy to-night, eh?" - </p> - <p> - She nodded brightly. "Oh, ever so happy! It is seeing new faces, you know, - after weeks of isolation," she added with a touch of almost girlish - gaiety. "It seems such ages since we gave a dinner-party. And you and - Captain Murchison are so nice. It seems almost like a family gathering." - </p> - <p> - "You like my friend Murchison, then? I am glad, because it is to him I owe - the pleasure of your acquaintance." - </p> - <p> - "I think he is a dear, he seems so honest, straightforward, and so - reliable." She spoke with apparent conviction. "Were you not dreadfully - shocked when he told you, for of course he must have told you, how we got - to know each other?" - </p> - <p> - "Not in the least," said Mr. Pomfret stoutly. "I explained to him that - people can become acquainted, without being properly introduced in the - conventional sort of way." - </p> - <p> - "Ah, then, he had some doubts himself?" flashed Miss Burton. "I expect he - was a little shocked, if you were not." - </p> - <p> - "Not in the slightest, I assure you," replied Mr. Pomfret easily. He was - not above telling a white lie upon occasions. He remembered too well the - remarks that his friend had made upon the girl's unconventional behaviour, - but he was not going to admit anything. - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton spoke softly, after a brief pause. "You and Captain Murchison - are very great friends, are you not?" - </p> - <p> - "Awful pals," was the genuine response. "You see, he knows all my family. - And when I joined the regiment, they deputed him to look after me. He has - got a hard task," he added with a laugh. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, not so very hard really, I am sure of that." Norah's voice was very - sweet, very caressing. "But you and your friend are of very different - temperaments." - </p> - <p> - "In what way?" - </p> - <p> - She smiled. "Oh, in half a hundred ways. Captain Murchison is as true as - steel, but also as hard as steel. You, now, are not in the least hard. You - are very kind and compassionate, you think the best of everybody." - </p> - <p> - "Don't flatter me too much, please," interjected the bashful Pomfret. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, pardon me, I know just the kind of man you are." The sweet face was - very close to his own, the beautiful, rather sad eyes were looking - steadily into his. "You are a rich man, or you would not be in this - expensive regiment. But, if you were a poor man, and you had only ten - pounds in your pocket, you would lend an impecunious friend five of them, - and not trouble whether he repaid you or not." - </p> - <p> - "I think you have fitted me, Miss Burton. My dear old chum Hugh is never - tired of telling me I am an awful ass." - </p> - <p> - "You are both right, really," answered Miss Burton. - </p> - <p> - "You see, we look at life from two different standpoints." - </p> - <p> - "I fancy you come from two different classes?" queried the charming young - woman. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret felt a little embarrassed. He did not want to give away his - particular chum. But there were no doubt certain inherited commercial - instincts in Hugh that sometimes offended the descendant of a more - careless and aristocratic family. - </p> - <p> - "You see, Hugh has come from the trading class, originally. His ancestors, - no doubt, were close-fisted people. Hugh is not close-fisted himself: he - is, in a certain way, the soul of generosity, but sometimes the old Adam - peeps out in little things." - </p> - <p> - He had a swift pang of remorse when he had said this. For he suddenly - remembered Hugh's generous offer of the two hundred which Pomfret, by a - very diplomatic letter, was going to cajole out of the octogenarian - great-aunt. - </p> - <p> - "Believe me," added he fervently, "Hugh is one of the best. He is a little - peculiar sometimes in small things. I ought not to have spoken as I have - done. I am more than sorry if I have conveyed a wrong impression of him." - </p> - <p> - "But you have not," cried Norah Burton swiftly. "He would be hard in some - things: I am sure—for instance—he would never forgive a really - dishonourable action, even in the case of his best friend." - </p> - <p> - "No, I am sure he would not," assented Pomfret. "But I don't fancy he has - been much tried that way. We don't get many 'rotters' amongst our lot." - </p> - <p> - "<i>Noblesse oblige</i>," quoted Miss Burton, lightly. Then she added more - seriously: "And I am sure he is very kind-hearted and thoughtful. I was - impressed with his reluctance to smoke because of the curtains. Of course, - he did not remember that it did not matter in the least, as we never have - callers." - </p> - <p> - She was getting on the theme of their social isolation, but Pomfret was - sure that, unlike her brother, strangely subdued to-night from his usual - boisterousness, she would handle the subject with her customary tact and - good taste. - </p> - <p> - "Ah, of course, all that is very regrettable. It is not so much your loss, - as the loss of Blankfield. I suppose you won't stay very long here." - </p> - <p> - For a moment there came a blazing light in the soft, beautiful eyes. "A - few days ago, I advised my brother to pack up and clear out. The snobbish - plutocracy of Blankfield had beaten us, made up of retired shopkeepers and - merchants. To-night, with you and Captain Murchison as our guests, I think - we have beaten Blankfield with its fat mothers and plain daughters." - </p> - <p> - She looked superb, as she drew her slender form up to its full height, the - glow of indignant triumph blazing on her cheek. At the moment she was - extremely beautiful. If Pomfret had been attracted before, he was - infatuated now. - </p> - <p> - "I will help you to beat the Blankfield people, for whom I don't care a - row of pins. I will come, whenever you want me." - </p> - <p> - "And your friend Captain Murchison, will he come, too?" - </p> - <p> - Pomfret smiled whimsically. "Oh yes, he will come, if I make a point of - it. Old Hugh thinks he leads me, but I really lead him." She leaned - forward eagerly. "Can you bring some of your brother officers, Mr. - Pomfret? Please don't think I am bold and forward and presumptuous. But I - do long to be even with these Blankfield people. I would love to make a - little sort of <i>salon</i> of my own. I know it is useless to expect the - women at present, but they might come in time. Mind you, I don't want - them." - </p> - <p> - "I will try," said Pomfret slowly. "I think I may say that Hugh and I are - the two most popular men in the regiment; I say it without vanity. And I - don't suppose we care a snap of the fingers about the Blankfield people. - Still, I don't want to raise hopes that may never be fulfilled. I can only - say, I will try." There was a pause. Then she spoke, and there was a - far-away look in her eyes. "You hesitate, I see. Oh, I quite believe you - when you say you will try. But there is some stumbling-block in the way, - isn't there?" Pomfret had perforce to dissemble. "There is no - stumbling-block that I know of, except running the risk of offending - Blankfield. That is not a great one, as we shall be out of here in about - two months." - </p> - <p> - She leaned closer to him, and her voice sank to a whisper. "There is a - stumbling-block, I know. You are too kind and generous to state what it - is, you could not, as to-night he is your host. It is my brother." - </p> - <p> - And then poor, infatuated Pomfret sought no further refuge in subterfuge. - He blurted out the truth. "Some of our chaps wouldn't stand him, you - know," he said simply. - </p> - <p> - There was a little convulsive movement of the delicate hands. "And he is - such a dear good fellow at heart, wanting I know in the little delicacies - that mark a real gentleman. You see a great difference between us, don't - you?" - </p> - <p> - "A very distinct difference," assented Pomfret. - </p> - <p> - "I will explain it to you in a few words. My father was a harum-scarum - sort of person, as I told you last time you were here, hard-riding and - hard-drinking. When he was a boy of twenty-five he married a woman out of - his own class, a shop-girl or a barmaid, I am not quite sure which. George - is many years older than myself, as I told you he is really my - halfbrother. The first wife died, my father married again, this time a - lady. I am the daughter of the second marriage. Now, I think you - understand." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret was delighted at this avowal, it proved his own prescience. - </p> - <p> - "I am so glad you told me, but as it happens, it was just what I guessed." - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton looked at him with admiring eyes. "You are really very clever, - you know. Well, I will not exactly say this is a secret, but you will - whisper it about discreetly. You need not be quite so frank as I have been - about details, but you can hint at a <i>mésalliance</i>. I hate to have to - tell you so much, for my brother has been so good to me." - </p> - <p> - "Ah!" Mr. Pomfret's air plainly showed that he was eager for further - information. - </p> - <p> - And Miss Burton was quite willing to gratify him. The young man was a - pleasant, comfortable sort of person to talk to. He was an admirable - listener, and never broke in with unnecessary, or irritating - interruptions. - </p> - <p> - "When my father died he left little behind him but debts; my mother had - preceded him some ten years. Poor George had gone into a stockbroker's - office, through the good offices of a distant connection. His salary was - very small, but he made a home for me. He would not hear of my earning my - own living." - </p> - <p> - "That could not have been very long ago," remarked Pomfret, "because you - are not very old now." - </p> - <p> - "No, it was not long," answered the girl, not committing herself to any - definite dates. "Well, we had a very hard time, as you can imagine. Then - suddenly our luck changed. An uncle of George's on his mother's side had - gone out to Australia as a boy, and amassed, we won't say a fortune from - your point of view, but what we should look upon as wealth. He had never - married, and when he died, a will was found in which he left all he was - possessed of to his sister's children. George was the only child, so he - took it all." - </p> - <p> - "So he threw up business and went in for a country life." - </p> - <p> - "Well, he has thrown it up for a time. I am not quite certain he will not - get tired of inactivity, and go back to it. Now that he has capital, it - would be easy for him to embark in something that would keep him occupied, - and pay him well." - </p> - <p> - "Not a sportsman, I suppose, he doesn't care for hunting or shooting? The - country is slow for a man if he doesn't do something in that line." - </p> - <p> - The pretty girl smiled; there was a faint touch of humour in the smile. - "Oh, he's not rich enough to indulge in luxuries of that sort. Besides," - she added hastily, "he has such wretched sight, he would be no good at - sport." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret thought it had been a very pleasant, enlightening conversation. - Norah seemed to have been perfectly frank about their past and their - present position. She did not pretend to be anything but what she was, the - daughter of a spendthrift father, living on what was practically the - charity of a good-hearted brother. And that brother was indebted for his - good fortune to a relative who must have been a man of the people. - </p> - <p> - While the two young people were having this confidential chat, Mr. Burton - was making himself agreeable to the other guest, in his doubtless - well-meant, but somewhat undiplomatic, fashion. - </p> - <p> - "I do envy you young fellows when I see you walking about as if the world - belonged to you." - </p> - <p> - Hugh drew himself up stiffly. "I was not in the least aware that any one - of us conveyed that impression." - </p> - <p> - "No offence meant, I assure you." Hugh's tone showed him that he had been - guilty of bad taste: a blessing Norah had not heard—she would have - given him a bad quarter of an hour later on. "But all army men, I think, - get a certain kind of swagger. Oh, nothing overbearing or unpleasant about - it, of course. They are made so much of that there is no wonder if they do - fancy themselves a bit. I'm sure I should if I were one of them." - </p> - <p> - Murchison made no comment on this frank statement, and the other man - rambled on in desultory fashion. - </p> - <p> - "It's the life I wanted. As a boy I longed to grow up quickly and go into - the army. There was a fair chance of it then, when the old man had still - got a bit of money left. But by the time I was old enough the idea had to - be knocked on the head. I had to go into a dingy stockbroking office - instead." - </p> - <p> - Hugh pricked up his ears at the announcement. He had not suspected that - the man would be so communicative about his past. Of course he had gone as - a clerk. If his father was not well-off enough to put him in the army - neither could he have afforded to buy him a share in a business. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," pursued Mr. Burton, "it was an awful come down after the dreams I - had indulged in." - </p> - <p> - "It must have been a very bitter disappointment," assented Hugh politely, - in spite of his firm conviction that the army was the very last profession - in the world suited to a man of his host's obvious peculiarities. - </p> - <p> - "I should have been awfully keen on soldiering," pursued Mr. Burton, under - the impression that he had discovered a sympathetic listener. "Don't you - consider it a splendid life?" - </p> - <p> - "There are many things in its favour, certainly," was the rather frigid - reply. - </p> - <p> - "But, after all, I don't think I should have cared to be in the line; - there's not the same glamour about it, is there? You fellows in the - cavalry, in a crack regiment like yours, must see the rosy side of life." - He heaved a sigh. "And, of course, you've all got pots of money to grease - the wheels." - </p> - <p> - Hugh fidgeted perceptibly. How very vulgar the man was, with an innate - vulgarity that nothing would ever eradicate. But his host, absorbed in his - own reflections, did not observe the movement. - </p> - <p> - "Of course, we know all about you, about the great house of Murchison, you - are tiled-in all right." He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper: - "What about that young chap yonder? I suppose he's rolling in money, too?" - </p> - <p> - It was growing insufferable. For two pins Hugh would have got up and - bidden him goodnight then and there, but he shrank from making a scene. - what a fool he had been to come here, to allow his kindly feeling for that - susceptible young donkey of a Pomfret to expose him to such an ordeal as - this. - </p> - <p> - "Really, Mr. Burton," he said in a cutting voice, "I do not discuss the - private affairs of my friends on such a brief acquaintance. If you are - really anxious to know, I believe Mr. Pomfret has considerable - expectations from an old aunt who is fairly wealthy. Those expectations - depend, I understand, upon his conforming generally to her wishes in all - respects." - </p> - <p> - "Ah, I understand," said the unabashed Burton. "Sorry if my question gave - you offence. What really put it in my head was the difference between his - position and mine when I was his age." - </p> - <p> - There was silence for some little time, while the two men applied - themselves steadily to their cigars. Then Burton jumped up suddenly. - </p> - <p> - "This must be a bit slow for you and your friend, and the night is young. - What do you say to a game at bridge?" - </p> - <p> - Yes, Captain Murchison would welcome a game of bridge, anything as a - relief to this vulgarian's conversation. - </p> - <p> - They played for over two hours, Murchison keenly alert from certain - suspicions that had been forming in his mind. At present there was no - foundation for these vague suspicions. They played for small stakes, but - the visitors rose up the winners, not by a great amount, but still - winners. - </p> - <p> - It was a fine night, the two men walked back to their quarters. - </p> - <p> - "How did you get on with the charmer? I saw you seemed very confidential - together," asked the older man. - </p> - <p> - "Splendidly, old chap. She told me a lot about her history." Pomfret - related all he had been told in full. "And how did you get on with the - brother?" - </p> - <p> - "Don't ask me," replied Hugh with a groan. "He's the most insufferable - creature I ever came across. I don't really think I can go there again. At - the beginning of the evening he started fairly well, but later he reverted - to type." - </p> - <p> - "Well, I may as well tell you straight, I shall. The next time we go I'll - take a share of the brother." - </p> - <p> - When Pomfret spoke in that tone he meant what he said, and Hugh knew he - would have his own wilful way. - </p> - <p> - There was one piece of information which the young subaltern had not - imparted to his friend. - </p> - <p> - It was this—that after much pressing, and more than one refusal, - Miss Burton had agreed to meet him to-morrow afternoon at a very - sequestered spot about a mile and a half from Blankfield, with the view of - pursuing their acquaintance. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>rom the night of - that dinner-party Murchison noted a subtle difference in his young - friend's demeanour. Pomfret had always been a harum-scarum sort of young - fellow, accustomed to follow erratic and injudicious impulses, not - absolutely devoid of brains of a certain order, but of imperfect and - ill-balanced mentality. - </p> - <p> - But in his wildest escapades he had always been frank and above-board. And - he was ever the first, when he had overstepped the border-line, to admit - that he was in the wrong. And on such occasions, far from justifying his - exploits, he had been ready to deplore them. - </p> - <p> - But his frankness seemed to have departed from that night. He seemed - rather to avoid than seek the society of his old friend and mentor. When - Hugh brought up the subject of the Burtons, Pomfret seemed anxious to - avoid it, to say as little as possible. He seemed to shut himself up - within his own soul. - </p> - <p> - Hugh, of course, was profoundly uneasy. Such a transparent creature as - Pomfret would not be likely to retire within his own shell unless there - were cogent reasons for the withdrawal. And the reasons were inspired by - the attractive personality of the fascinating siren at Rosemount, the - charming young woman who explained the presence of an undesirable brother - by the narrative of her father's first unfortunate marriage. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret had invited the brother and sister to a dinner at the principal - hotel in the place, and Hugh had been his friend's guest. Ladies, of - course, could not be asked to the Mess. It had been a happy solution of a - somewhat awkward position. Mr. Burton no doubt understood, but he accepted - the situation with alacrity. - </p> - <p> - From the dinner they had adjourned to Rosemount. Here they had played - cards as before, but they left off fairly even. Hugh's suspicions about - card-sharping were dissipated as before. At the same time, he was still - resolved to keep a watchful eye upon the pair. It was firmly engrained - upon his mind, and only, of course, from the purest instinct, that he did - not trust either of them. - </p> - <p> - Much to his surprise, they left without having been asked to a return - dinner. It was the turn of the Burtons. And judging from the haste with - which Burton had jumped at them on the first visit, the omission was a - little noticeable. It could not be that these new isolated dwellers in - Blankfield wanted to shelve an acquaintance which must have brightened - their dull and unvisited existence. - </p> - <p> - Another fact presented itself to Murchison's rather acute intelligence. - There seemed already established between Pomfret and the attractive Norah - a certain kind of freemasonry, a certain sort of easy relations. And once - in the course of the evening he was sure that he heard the young man, in - the course of a whispered conversation, address her by her Christian name. - They had been sitting together on the Chesterfield, and their remarks to - each other had been addressed in a very low tone. But Hugh's hearing was - wonderfully acute, and he had surprised a sudden expression of rebuke in - Miss Burton's eyes when Pomfret made the slip. - </p> - <p> - And here, for a moment, this story must leave Hugh Murchison with his - honest doubts and suspicions, while it follows the fortunes of his young - friend and the attractive Norah Burton. - </p> - <p> - For, truth to tell, at this particular juncture, young Pomfret, for all - his apparent guilelessness, was pursuing a double game. Madly, - overwhelmingly, in love with Norah, he was meeting her clandestinely, - sometimes at her own house, sometimes in sequestered spots in the - surrounding neighbourhood. And of these visits and meetings Hugh knew - nothing. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret was not free from a few pangs of self-reproach, from the fact that - he was not running quite straight with good old Hugh, to whom he had - always, hitherto, confessed all his difficulties and troubles. - </p> - <p> - But then Hugh, although one of the best, was such a practical old stick. - And if he told him the whole truth, there was no knowing what course Hugh - might not think it was his duty to take. He might write to his family and - bring them down in an avalanche on him, or even to the octogenarian aunt. - </p> - <p> - Love taught him deep cunning, and what he lacked in this subtle quality - was ably supplemented by Miss Burton, this young girl with the rather sad - expression, and the candid eyes that always met your gaze unfalteringly. - </p> - <p> - From the first clandestine meeting, arranged in whispers on the night of - the dinner at Rose-mount, Pomfret had made the running very fast. He had - given Norah to understand that he thought her the most desirable girl he - had ever met, that no other woman had appealed, would or could appeal, to - him as she did. There was a good drop of Irish blood in his own veins, and - he certainly made a most fervent lover. - </p> - <p> - Norah listened with a modest bashfulness that enchanted him. He was sure - from her demeanour that she had never been made love to before. She seemed - so overwhelmed that she could hardly say a word. If one were not so much - in love, one might almost have thought she was stupid. - </p> - <p> - She was not so stupid, however, as not to preserve her wits sufficiently - to make another appointment, this time at Rosemount. Pomfret consented - gladly, but he made a certain stipulation, which his companion was more - than pleased to agree to. - </p> - <p> - "We mustn't let old Hugh know about this, though, or he'll think he's left - out in the cold. You see, it was really through him I knew you. You must - tell your brother not to let it out." - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton promised that, so far as she and her brother were concerned, - Captain Murchison would be none the wiser. It only remained for Mr. - Pomfret—although entreated to do so, she could not at this early - stage address him as "Jack"—to surround his movements with a proper - degree of mystery. - </p> - <p> - When the two parted, and the meeting had been rather a brief one, for it - was always a little dangerous lingering long about the environs of - Blankfield, in case of unexpected intruders, Miss Burton made a - significant remark. - </p> - <p> - "I am quite sure your friend Captain Murchison does not like me. In fact, - I think his real feeling is one of dislike." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret was young enough to blush; he did so upon this occasion. He - guessed the real truth, that Murchison did not dislike her at all, on the - contrary, he rather admired her—but he had a certain distrust of - her. - </p> - <p> - "Fancy on your part, fancy, I'm quite sure," he answered glibly. "I expect - he is a little bit sore, you know, about the whole thing, thinks I have - cut him out with you." - </p> - <p> - "Perhaps," assented Norah, easily. But in her own heart she knew it was - nothing of the kind. She recognised at once the difference between the two - men. Murchison was a thorough gentleman, kind and chivalrous, but he was a - man of the world, with a certain hard strain in him, a man who would - submit everything to the test of cold, practical reasoning, not to be - hoodwinked or led astray. - </p> - <p> - This poor babbling boy, with his unrestrained impulses, that Celtic leaven - in his blood, would fall an easy prey to any woman who was clever enough - to cast her spells over him. He would never reason, he would only feel. - </p> - <p> - After that first meeting, the precursor of many others, the affair - progressed briskly. Pomfret made love with great ardour, Norah received - his advances with a shy sort of acquiescence that inflamed him the more. - He was sure, oh very sure, he was the first who had touched that innocent - heart. - </p> - <p> - From these delightful confidences Murchison was shut out. It would not be - wise to ignore him altogether, for such a course of action would have - intensified his suspicions. But the invitations to Rosemount from either - host or hostess were few and far between. - </p> - <p> - He was not, however, so easily gulled as the three conspirators thought. - Pomfret's preoccupied mood, the air of a man who had much on his mind, his - frequent and unexplained absences, gave to his friend much food for - thought. He felt certain that the easy-going, irresponsible young man was - entangling himself. But in such a state of affairs he felt powerless. - Short of invoking the influence of the Colonel, or writing to the elderly - aunt, he could do nothing. - </p> - <p> - It cannot be said that the course of true love was running very smoothly, - even from the point of view of the ardent and enamoured suitor himself. In - spite of his impulsive temperament, his disinclination to look hard facts - squarely in the face, there was in him a slight leaven of common-sense. - </p> - <p> - Save for the bounty and goodwill of this generous, if somewhat - narrow-minded, aunt he was an absolute pauper. There was no hope of - marrying without her consent. And he was quite sure that in a case like - this her consent would never be given. A <i>fiancée</i>, to be received by - her with approval, must present some sort of credentials. - </p> - <p> - And there was the difficulty. Poor Jack had exhausted all his simple - cunning to extract from them some convincing details of their antecedents. - But even he, infatuated as he was, had to admit that they had parried - inquiries with great adroitness. They maintained a persistent reticence as - to names and places. Even he was forced to conclude that, for some reason - or another, they did not choose to be frank about their past. - </p> - <p> - These obvious facts, however, did not lessen his infatuation. To marry her - was the one dominating object of his life, in spite of all that his few - remaining remnants of common-sense could urge against such a step. - </p> - <p> - More than once the rash idea occurred to him that he would marry her in - secret, and when the marriage was an accomplished fact, throw himself upon - his aunt's forgiveness. - </p> - <p> - He mooted the idea to Norah, to whom, of course, he had already made a - frank statement of his position, as befitted the honourable gentleman he - was. But she did not receive the suggestion with enthusiasm, although she - professed to fully reciprocate his ardent affection. - </p> - <p> - "If I were a selfish girl, and only thought of my immediate happiness, I - should say 'Yes,'" she said with a little tremulous smile, that made her - look more desirable than ever in her lover's eyes. "But I could not allow - <i>you</i> to run such a terrible risk. Old people are very strange and - very touchy when they think they have been slighted. Suppose she cast you - off." - </p> - <p> - "I suppose I could work, as thousands have to do," replied Jack, with a - touch of his old doggedness. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. "My poor Jack! It is easy to talk of working, but you - have got to find an employer. And you have been brought up to an idle - life. What could you turn your hand to?" She paused a moment, and then - added as an after-thought: "And besides, my brother would never sanction - it." - </p> - <p> - Even to Pomfret's slow revolving mind, the worldly taint in her just - peeped forth in those sensible remarks. - </p> - <p> - "If I am prepared to risk my aunt's displeasure, you can surely afford to - risk your brother's?" he queried angrily. - </p> - <p> - But Norah disarmed him with one of her sweetest smiles. - </p> - <p> - "Be reasonable, dearest; we must not behave like a pair of silly children. - And besides, there is a certain moral obligation on both sides. You owe - everything to your aunt. I owe everything to my brother. It would be very - base to ignore them." - </p> - <p> - Jack was touched by the nobility of these last sentiments. "You are much - better than I am, Norah, much less selfish." - </p> - <p> - She caressed his curly head with her hand. "We must have patience, Jack. - You have told me as plainly as your dear, kind heart would allow you to - tell me that, for reasons which I don't want you to explain, your aunt - would never give her consent to your marriage with me. Well, we must - wait." - </p> - <p> - In plain English her meaning was that they must possess their souls in - patience till such time as this excellent old lady had departed this life. - The suggestion was certainly a coldblooded one, but in his present - infatuated mood Jack did not take any notice of that. Norah made a feeble - attempt to gloss over the callousness of her remarks by adding that, - although it was a very horrible thing to have to wait for the shoes of - dead people, a person of Miss Harding's great age must expect to very - shortly pay the debt of nature. - </p> - <p> - Two days later, Jack received a telegram which seemed to give a certain - air of prophecy to the young woman's forebodings. It was dispatched to him - from his aunt's home in Cheshire by the local doctor, who had attended her - for years. It informed him that she was seriously ill and requested his - immediate attendance. - </p> - <p> - He sought the Colonel at once and obtained leave. There was no time to - call at Rose-mount, but he scribbled a hasty note to Miss Burton - explaining matters. On his arrival, he found his aged relative very bad - indeed. - </p> - <p> - She had had a severe stroke, the second in two years, and Doctor Jephson - was very doubtful as to whether her vitality would enable her to recover. - He added that she had a marvellous constitution, and in such a case one - could not absolutely say there was no hope. Of a feebler woman he would - have said at once a few hours would see the end. - </p> - <p> - Pomfret stayed there as long as the result was in doubt. At the end of - three days the brave old lady rallied in the most wonderful way, and was - able to hold a little conversation with her beloved nephew. He did not - leave till the doctor assured him that she was out of danger. - </p> - <p> - "It's a wonderful recovery," said Doctor Jephson as he shook hands at - parting with the young man. "But it's the beginning of the end. I don't - give her very long now, a few months at the most. Well, she has had a - wonderful life, hardly an ache or a pain till the last few years, and then - nothing very severe. But, of course, the machinery is worn out." - </p> - <p> - All the way back to Blankfield those words kept repeating themselves in - his ears: "I don't give her very long now, a few months at the most." - </p> - <p> - And then an idea began to form in his mind. He was not so callous that he - wanted his poor old aunt to die quickly, but it was obvious the time could - not be long delayed when he would find himself possessed of her fortune, - the master of his own destinies. Was there any reason why he should not - forestall that period by the rather daring expedient of a secret marriage? - They were both young. Even if the doctor was wrong, and they had to wait - four or five years, it was not a great sacrifice of their youth. At least - that was his way of looking at it. Of course he did not know how she would - take the suggestion. - </p> - <p> - She appeared to listen to him with deep interest and attention when he - unfolded his plans. - </p> - <p> - He explained that he had a very handsome allowance, which up to the - present he had generally exceeded. Now that could all be altered. He would - declare that he was sick of the army, and send in his papers. Through his - family influence, he would get some Government appointment which - necessitated his living in London. He would take inexpensive chambers for - himself, rent a small house for her in some pleasant and not too remote - suburb, and spend as much of his time as possible with her. - </p> - <p> - "You don't think your aunt would reduce your allowance if you left the - army?" was the one pertinent question she put to him when he had finished. - </p> - <p> - "On the contrary, she would be more likely to increase it," was the - confident rejoinder. "She would always have preferred that I should go in - for something that meant real work. She thinks the army is an idle life." - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton, no doubt, rapidly calculated the pros and cons of such a - daring step. Jack had named a very handsome sum for her maintenance. If - she could put up with the clandestine nature of the connection, till such - time as a certain event happened, she would be better off than at - Rosemount. She begged for time to think it over, and of course she would - have to consult her brother before taking such an unusual step. - </p> - <p> - That was only natural; it was impossible for Jack to insist that she - should settle the matter herself without reference to the one person who, - whatever his social defects, had behaved to her with unexampled kindness - and generosity. - </p> - <p> - Brother and sister no doubt talked it over very thoroughly, for it was - three days before she told her lover that, although George would have - preferred a longer period of waiting, he trusted him sufficiently to - entrust Norah to his keeping, on the terms proposed. - </p> - <p> - She did suggest that they should wait till Jack had left the army and - settled himself in London. But he fought this idea stubbornly. He was mad - to tie her to himself, for fear that somebody else with more immediate - prospects might step in and carry her off. A little common-sense, of - course, might have told him that if she was as fatally attractive to - others as to himself, she would have been carried off before this. - </p> - <p> - He was so terribly jealous of her, that he had never made the slightest - effort to bring any of his brother officers round to Rose-mount. He even - kept Hugh away as much as he could. - </p> - <p> - The lovers worked out their little plot very nicely. Miss Burton would - leave Blankfield for a couple of weeks, ostensibly to pay a visit to a - relative. Her destination would be London. Jack would take a few days' - leave of absence in due course, and procure a special licence. They would - return on separate days and resume their normal life, until such time as - they perfected their after arrangements. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>iss Burton arrived - home on a Monday by a mid-day train; her attentive brother met her at the - station. She was one of those girls who look smart and neat under the most - trying circumstances. Although it was a long journey, she bore no signs or - stains of travel. - </p> - <p> - "When does Jack arrive, not too soon, I hope?" commented George, as he - assisted her into a cab, and sat down beside her. - </p> - <p> - "He wanted to come down to-night, but I vetoed that," responded the girl. - "I told him people might put two and two together. He will get here - mid-day to-morrow. I shall meet him casually in the High Street. He is - going to bring Murchison along with him. And I shall give them an - impromptu invitation to dinner." - </p> - <p> - "I don't know that I am very keen on having Murchison to dinner," remarked - Mr. Burton in rather a growling tone. - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton shrugged her shoulders. "And, perhaps, of the two, I am less - keen than you are. But we have got to play it pretty quiet down here, till - the whole lot of us clear out. Better to let Murchison come. He is pretty - suspicious, as it is, but if we shut him out, he'll be more suspicious - still." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burton chuckled in a grim fashion. - </p> - <p> - "Well, our inquisitive friend, the whole lot of them as a matter of fact, - can't do you much harm now. You've got him tight enough. And I'll say this - for him, he's a bit soft and all that sort of thing, but he'll always play - the game." - </p> - <p> - The girl did not reply for a moment, then she spoke in a voice that was - low and soft: - </p> - <p> - "Yes, he's a dear little chap, he'll always play the game." - </p> - <p> - "He can afford to," was the rather ungracious comment. Clearly Mr. Burton - was not in one of his best moods to-day. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pomfret returned from his short leave on the following day, and at - once sought his friend. - </p> - <p> - "Glad to be back, old man, got fed-up with London," he cried cheerfully. - His excuse for his visit was that he had to go up to see his aunt's - solicitors, on some pressing affairs which the old lady had entrusted to - him, after her temporary recovery from her dangerous illness. - </p> - <p> - Now Murchison was pretty quick. He already had a shrewd suspicion that - Jack had been making a great many surreptitious visits to Rosemount, that - Hugh had been asked there now and again as a blind. And when he happened - to be present, he had noticed that Jack and Norah had taken very little - notice of each other. Jack had cultivated the brother, and left his friend - to entertain the attractive young woman. In itself, this rather obvious - attitude was suspicious. It confirmed his impression that there was a - private understanding between the young people, and that they were - throwing dust in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - He had already put two and two together, with regard to the concurrent - absences. Mr. Burton, meeting him in the High Street two days after - Norah's departure, had told him his sister was paying a visit to a married - relative who lived at Brighton. He would have not believed Mr. Burton on - his oath. - </p> - <p> - And Jack had taken his few days' leave, with the ostensible object of - attending to his aunt's affairs. - </p> - <p> - Hugh was pretty certain that the silly young ass, as he affectionately - designated Jack in his own mind, had arranged to meet Miss Burton for a - day or two in London, in order to enjoy her society, free from - interruption or espionage. Of course, he was far from guessing the truth. - He would not have thought Pomfret capable of any such daring action. - </p> - <p> - Jack had just expressed himself fed-up with London, and yet his demeanour - was jubilant and hilarious. Of course, Hugh could not dream his attitude - was that of the exultant bridegroom, almost intoxicated with the knowledge - of having gained his heart's desire. There had been a couple of lunches, - perhaps a couple of dinners with a theatre thrown in. The buoyant Jack was - living on these blissful memories. - </p> - <p> - Later in the day, the two men walked down the High Street, of course in - accordance with a pre-arranged plan decided upon by the artful lovers. The - first person they met was Miss Burton, sauntering along slowly; Miss - Burton, now Mrs. Pomfret, as fast as the ecclesiastical law of England - could make her. - </p> - <p> - She welcomed them with her ready and charming smile. "What strangers we - are," she cried gaily. "And how nice to meet my only two friends in - Blankfield." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret did a little finessing on his own. 661 have been away for a few - days, too,'' he explained glibly. "Had to go up to London to look after - some business of my poor old aunt's; only got back by the mid-day train." - </p> - <p> - "Did you enjoy your visit?" inquired Hugh of Norah, with that stiffness - which he could never quite dissociate from his manner when addressing - either brother or sister. - </p> - <p> - "Yes and No," was the answer. "On the whole, I had quite a good time, but - I am not sorry to get back to Rosemount, and my little household gods. - Knowing you both has made such a difference to my life here." - </p> - <p> - She was laying it on a little bit thick, Hugh thought, and he fancied she - looked more at Pomfret than himself, as she said it. But he made a - suitable and courteous reply. - </p> - <p> - She was just about to turn away, when a sudden thought seemed to strike - her. - </p> - <p> - "As Mr. Pomfret and I have been such wanderers, would it not be nice to - celebrate our return? will you both come to dinner to-night, and we can - relate our experiences?" - </p> - <p> - Pomfret jumped at the invitation, and Hugh had to follow suit. As a matter - of fact, he was rather eager to go. They were both playing their parts - very well, but he was quite convinced they <i>were</i> playing a part. He - was more certain about Jack than about her. Jack had been a bit too glib, - had over-acted, as it were. They had met in London, if only for a few - hours; he would have bet a thousand pounds on that. - </p> - <p> - Jack declared that he would walk back to Rosemount with Miss Burton. He - did not now care a farthing what members of Blank-field Society he met. - Very shortly, the army would know him no more, and he would take up a new - life with this fearless girl whom he had married on the sly. - </p> - <p> - Hugh strolled on, and looked in at the various shops. The High Street - happened to be rather empty on this particular afternoon, the <i>élite</i> - of Blankfield Society had not yet turned out for its usual promenade. - </p> - <p> - Turning away from a jeweller's shop window, where he was inspecting some - sleeve-links, he was confronted by a tall, sturdily built man of about - fifty years of age, who raised his hat. - </p> - <p> - "I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Captain Murchison?" he - inquired politely. - </p> - <p> - Hugh directed a swift glance at him. He was not exactly a common person, - on the other hand he was certainly not a gentleman. There was something - military in his bearing; he might have been a retired Sergeant-Major. - </p> - <p> - "That is my name," answered Hugh a little curtly. "And who are you, - please?" - </p> - <p> - The tall man took a card from his waistcoat pocket and presented it. - "Those are my credentials, sir." - </p> - <p> - Hugh ran his eye over it swiftly. He saw the name, Davidson, a common one - enough, and, in the corner, Scotland Yard. Why the deuce should this agent - of the police want to accost him? And how did he know his name was - Murchison? - </p> - <p> - "I think you are acquainted with a family of the name of Burton, brother - and sister they call themselves, who live at a house a little way out - called Rosemount?" - </p> - <p> - "Of course I know them, that is to say, in a casual sort of way." Needless - to say that Murchison had never been more surprised in his life. "Why are - you asking these questions?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Davidson darted a keen glance up and down the comparatively empty High - Street. "This is rather an exposed place in which to talk, but I have - something to tell you which I am sure you will be interested to listen to. - I am staying at the 'Anchor,' in a side street from this. If you will do - me the honour to follow me, I can take you into a private room there, - where we shall not be observed nor overheard." - </p> - <p> - Like a man in a dream, Hugh found himself following Mr. Davidson to the - "Anchor," one of the second-class hotels in the town. He was quite sure - that this tall, military looking person was going to clear up the mystery - of the couple whom Blankfield, in its wisdom, had refused to visit, and - whose acquaintance he owed to a random meeting at a tea-shop. - </p> - <p> - There were only one or two idlers in the entrance-hall of the hotel, which - was of what is known as the "Commercial" kind. Murchison was glad to find - that he did not seem to attract their observation, as he rapidly crossed - over to where his new acquaintance was standing in a rather dark corner. - </p> - <p> - Davidson piloted him into a little sitting-room which opened out of a long - narrow passage. He rang the bell, and ordered refreshments with the manner - of a man who was acquainted with the usages of polite society. - </p> - <p> - It would be quite safe to say that Hugh, the heir to a great fortune, - brought up in the lap of luxury, an aristocrat by adoption, if not exactly - by birth, had never found himself up till now in such an environment. He - could not truthfully declare that it was an experience he wished to - repeat. - </p> - <p> - Still, he could blame nobody but himself, his foolish action in taking up - with a couple of persons whom Blankfield, in its superior worldly wisdom, - had decided to ignore. As he was in for it, and nothing could undo the - past, it was better to go through with it. Let him accommodate himself to - the situation, drink his whisky-and-soda in this dingy little parlour of a - second-rate hotel, and treat the detective with genial courtesy. - </p> - <p> - After the first mouthful of his drink, Davidson began to explain. - </p> - <p> - "Of course, sir, I quite understand this is not the sort of thing or the - sort of place to which you are accustomed," he said, waving a deprecatory - hand round the shabby little parlour. "But in this particular case, I and - my friend—that friend I may say at the moment is elsewhere taking - his observations—wanted to lie low. It didn't enter into our scheme - to put up at a swagger hotel, and run the risk of gossip. It might have - reached the ears of those we are after, and scared them off." Hugh - listened attentively. There was something very serious in the wind now, - and the dwellers at Rosemount were as yet unaware of what was impending. - </p> - <p> - His surprise expressed itself in the direct question which he shot at the - detective: "I take it you are here to arrest them, then?" - </p> - <p> - "One of them, the man," corrected Mr. Davidson, quietly; "we know a good - deal about the girl, but we have no evidence that implicates her beyond - the fact of her association with him, and from our point of view that - means nothing in a Court of Law." - </p> - <p> - "What is his offence?" asked the startled Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "Forgery," was the laconic answer. "He belongs to a pretty well-known - gang, and we have had our suspicions of him for a long time now, but he - was devilish clever and cunning. Several of his pals were caught, but it - was always difficult to rope him in. We shouldn't have got him now but for - the fact of one of his pals peaching. And even now, although the evidence - is strong enough for us, I doubt if it is strong enough to get him more - than a comparatively light sentence. If he can lay hold of a clever - counsel, and there will be some money at the back of him, if not a great - deal, he won't come off so badly." - </p> - <p> - So Mr. Burton was a criminal, and had been living in Blankfield on the - proceeds of his nefarious calling. The rich uncle in Australia who had - left him a comfortable fortune was a myth. - </p> - <p> - "I suppose he has been on the 'crook' all his life?" queried Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "Ever since he has come under our observation," was the reply of the - detective. "Before he joined the present gang, a few of whom we have - collared from time to time, card-sharping was his lay. Once he rented an - expensive flat in Paris, and I believe made a tidy bit out of it. That is - where the young lady first appeared upon the scene." - </p> - <p> - "But how long ago is that? She doesn't look more than twenty." - </p> - <p> - "I know," said Mr. Davidson. "She looks wonderfully young, that is one of - her assets. As a matter of fact I should say she was twenty-four at the - least. The Parisian episode occurred about five years ago, making her - nineteen at the time. He was there about twelve months, at the end of - which time he got an introduction to the forging gang, and chucked the - cards in favour of a more remunerative game." - </p> - <p> - "She acted, I suppose, as a decoy and confederate?" - </p> - <p> - "So I am given to understand. She very seldom played herself, but used to - signal the opponents' cards to him." - </p> - <p> - "What a precious pair," groaned Hugh. He had long been doubtful of them, - but he had never anticipated this. - </p> - <p> - "Now, Captain Murchison, there is a little question I want to ask you," - said the detective briskly, after a brief pause. "My pal and I only - arrived here yesterday, but we have not been idle, we have picked up a - good deal. We have discovered that nobody in Blankfield visits them, - except yourself and another officer, a Mr. Pomfret. That is true, is it - not?" - </p> - <p> - "Quite true," assented Murchison. - </p> - <p> - "You frequently go to their house together. But perhaps I may be telling - you something you don't know when I say that Mr. Pomfret more frequently - has gone alone." - </p> - <p> - "I have had my suspicions some time," was Hugh's answer. - </p> - <p> - "Now tell me, please; I suppose in the evenings you played cards, or - roulette, or some game of chance. I thought so. Did you lose much? Had you - any suspicions they were rooking you?" - </p> - <p> - "On my first visit, a suspicion that they might do so crossed my mind. But - nothing of the sort was attempted. I should say that, up to the present, - my friend and I stand a bit to the good. Evidently, that was not their - object." - </p> - <p> - "Clearly," assented the shrewd detective, "they had a deeper game than - that on. They wanted to catch this young friend of yours for a husband, - and failing that, to entrap him, so that they could blackmail him on the - threat of a breach of promise case." - </p> - <p> - "It looks as if that was their object." - </p> - <p> - "Now, Captain Murchison, may I ask you if your friend is a man likely to - fall into the trap? I saw him in the High Street this afternoon with you: - and if I may say so without offence, he doesn't give me the impression of - a very strong or self-reliant person." - </p> - <p> - Hugh shook his head. "I fear he is very weak, very impulsive, very - emotional, a ready prey for a designing woman." - </p> - <p> - "Have you any idea how far the thing has gone?" - </p> - <p> - To this question Hugh could only reply in the negative. His one hope was - that the foolish boy had seen her so often that there was no necessity to - write incriminating letters. - </p> - <p> - "Well, Captain Murchison, my object in asking you to grant me an interview - was two-fold. In the first place, I wanted to know if there had been any - card-sharping. Then, as I am aware you go to the house, I wished to tell - you that I and my friend are going to take him to-night. It might happen - that you would be going there, and of course, you will not want to be on - the stage when we play our little comedy." - </p> - <p> - "We have promised to go to dinner tonight. She asked us both when we met - her this afternoon." - </p> - <p> - "And of course now, you will not go. I will take him before dinner-time, - so you need not send round any excuses." - </p> - <p> - Poor Hugh felt very miserable. What he especially shirked was having to - tell this sordid narrative to Pomfret. He expressed to the detective his - shrinking from the unwelcome task. - </p> - <p> - "I quite understand, sir, but it's got to be done," replied the detective, - firmly. For a few seconds after he had spoken, he seemed to be thinking - deeply. Then he came out with a startling proposition. - </p> - <p> - "Look here, Captain Murchison, something has just occurred to me. I am not - sure whether you will think it a good plan. Just now I thought it would be - better for you not to be there. But if this young gentleman is so gone on - the girl, it might make a deeper impression on him, bring home to him more - strongly the sense of her unworthiness, if he were actually present at the - scene. And it would spare you any painful explanations, beforehand. - Afterwards you can tell him or not, as you please, about our interview - here." - </p> - <p> - Hugh made a gesture of disgust. "You propose that we should carry out our - original intention of dining there and of sitting at the table of a - criminal? I don't think I could bring myself to it." - </p> - <p> - If Mr. Davidson did not quite agree with the young man's scruples, he was - open-minded enough to see the matter from Hugh's point of view. - </p> - <p> - "I quite understand, sir. But I think I can manage it all right. You say - they dine at eight. Get there with your friend a quarter of an hour - before. I will be there with my friend at five minutes to, before the - dinner is served. You then won't have to sit at his table, you see." - </p> - <p> - Hugh was still hesitating. Mr. Davidson proceeded to clinch his argument. - </p> - <p> - "You see, sir, it will be so much better for Mr. Pomfret to see with his - own eyes and hear with his own ears. When he has seen us clap the darbies - on Burton, and listened to what I can tell him about the girl—you - can just give me a lead there, if you don't mind—I think he will be - cured of his calf-love on the spot. As far as he is concerned, we want to - make a swift and sudden cure, to kill his affection at once." - </p> - <p> - Yes, on the whole, after a little further reflection Murchison was - disposed to fall in with this new suggestion. Pomfret, however deep his - infatuation, could not resist the evidence of his own senses. He would be - much more strongly impressed than by a mere bald narration of the facts as - conveyed to his friend by the detective. - </p> - <p> - So it was settled. Hugh would bring Pomfret to Rosemount at twenty minutes - or a quarter to eight. At five minutes to, Davidson and his colleague - would present themselves to execute their painful errand. - </p> - <p> - "Just a word before I go," said the young man as he turned towards the - door. "Is the man's name really Burton, or only an alias?" - </p> - <p> - "That is his real name. Of course he has had aliases. His family, I - understand, are respectable people of the lower middle-class. He was the - black sheep, born with crooked and criminal instincts." - </p> - <p> - "And the girl, is she really his sister?" - </p> - <p> - "On that point, I have no positive information," replied Davidson. "She - has passed as such ever since the Paris days. But I should very much doubt - it. I am informed that they are very unlike in manners and appearance, - that he is a rough sort of fellow, while she would pass anywhere for a - lady." - </p> - <p> - Hugh went back to the barracks, more than rejoiced at the fact that the - detective seemed to have appeared on the scene in the very nick of time. - If marriage was contemplated as the result of this clandestine wooing, - what a terrible tragedy would be averted from the unlucky Pomfret! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was twenty - minutes to eight as the two young men rang at the door-bell of Rosemount. - Pomfret was always a slow dresser. It was only by extraordinary efforts - that Hugh had got him off in time. - </p> - <p> - Brother and sister were awaiting them in the pretty drawing-room, lit with - softly shaded lamps. Miss Burton rose to meet them, she extended a hand to - each, in her pretty graceful way, as if she looked upon them both as her - dearest friends, and would make no difference between them in her - greeting. - </p> - <p> - But Hugh was very wide-awake, after his meeting with the detective, and he - did notice that the left hand which she extended to Pomfret lingered a - little longer in his responsive clasp than did the right which she had - given to him. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it was obvious that their acquaintance had gone far. There was even, - he fancied, an intelligent sympathy in their mutual glances. Pomfret was - the lover, Hugh Murchison was simply the friend. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burton welcomed them heartily. "Just like old times," he cried in his - rough, breezy fashion. "I've been like a fish out of water during Norah's - absence. It was just like her to organise a little party, simply us four, - to celebrate her return." - </p> - <p> - It struck Hugh that his conviviality was just a trifle forced, that he - seemed "jumpy" and nervous. Had he by chance spotted those two strangers - in the High Street, and wondered what manner of men they were? - </p> - <p> - Pomfret settled himself on the chesterfield beside Norah, in spite of her - rather obvious signals to preserve a more discreet attitude. Ignorant of - what was going to happen a few minutes hence, her great object was to - conceal the fact that Jack should take the position of an acknowledged - lover. - </p> - <p> - In her secret heart, she was very apprehensive of Murchison. She knew he - was suspicious of her, and he had a sort of elder brother affection for - Pomfret. She was not by any means sure as to the lengths to which this - fraternal feeling might lead him. It might even inspire him to evoke the - assistance of the Pomfret family, and then the security of her present - position might be menaced. - </p> - <p> - The secret marriage was, after all, in the nature of a gamble. If things - turned out as she expected, if the old aunt died in reasonable time, the - odds were in her favour. She could twist Jack round her little finger. But - nobody knew better than this astute young woman of the world that there is - many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Something that she had not - calculated, not foreseen, might happen at any moment, and her house of - cards might tumble to the ground. Her adventurous life had taught her - never to be too sure of momentary prosperity. - </p> - <p> - She was a little bit nervous and "jumpy," like her brother, to-night. Her - smile was a little forced, her high spirits rather assumed. The - wedding-ring, the marriage certificate hidden from sight, were great - assets. And yet, was it all just a little too good to be quite true? - </p> - <p> - Murchison talked with the brother, desultory sort of talk, hardly - conscious of what he was saying. His ears were straining for the sound of - that eletric-bell which would herald the arrival of Davidson and his - colleague. - </p> - <p> - And it came very quickly. There was a loud, imperative peal. Burton - started from his seat, and forgot his assumed good manners. - </p> - <p> - "Who the devil is that?" he cried fiercely. "Do they want to knock the - house down?" It was the vulgar exclamation of a very vulgar man. - </p> - <p> - Miss Burton was more mistress of herself, but Hugh observed that her cheek - went a shade paler. Well, it was only natural. These two had been living - in fear of the law for more years than they cared to remember. And they - had thought they were safely in harbour. Poor fools! - </p> - <p> - She turned to Pomfret, and forced a wan smile. "It is really quite - alarming, Mr. Pomfret, visitors at this time of the evening. And you know - so well that nobody in Blankfield, except yourselves, ever crosses our - threshold." - </p> - <p> - The happy Jack, the husband of a few short hours, was quite unperturbed. - He smiled back at her confidently. - </p> - <p> - "Somebody come to the wrong house, I should say. Why, you have gone quite - pale! What a nervous little thing it is!" He whispered the last sentence - in a lover-like tone. - </p> - <p> - Murchison felt every nerve in his body tingling. Jack was in a state of - ignorance. The brother and sister, he was sure, were filled with vague and - undefined alarms. He, alone out of the four sitting in that charming - little drawing-room awaiting the announcement of dinner, was sure of what - was going to happen. - </p> - <p> - He stole a look across at Pomfret with the happy, fatuous smile of the - successful lover on his face. Poor devil! In another couple of minutes he - would be terribly disillusioned. - </p> - <p> - There was a heavy trampling of feet across the hall. The visitors, whoever - they were, had pushed past the trim and ladylike parlourmaid. - </p> - <p> - The drawing-room door was flung open, and the two big men, Davidson and - his colleague, advanced towards Burton who was standing in the middle of - the room. - </p> - <p> - The detective spoke in a clear, ringing voice. "It's all up, Mr. Burton, I - won't trouble to recount your various aliases. I've a warrant here to - arrest you on a charge of forgery. You've gone free for some time, but one - of your old pals has peached upon you. Hard luck for you, otherwise you - might have been playing still, perhaps for ever, this nice little 'stunt' - at Blankfield. I suppose you will come quietly?" - </p> - <p> - For a few seconds George Burton indulged in some horrible imprecations. In - the same breath he protested his absolute innocence, and denounced the - "pal" who had betrayed him. Mr. Davidson cut him short, as he fastened the - handcuffs on his wrist. - </p> - <p> - "Stow it, old man! Be a sport. It's a fair cop, isn't it? You knew the - risk you ran when you went into this business." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burton subsided. "Yes, it's a fair cop," he growled. "I don't blame - you, you are only doing your duty. I've no grudge against you. But by - Heaven, when I come out, I'll do for that swine who has given me away, if - I have to swing for it." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret had risen from his seat on the chesterfield at the dramatic - entrance of the two strangers. Norah had risen also. In the few seconds - that elapsed between their entrance and the clapping of the handcuffs on - Burton, she stretched out appealing arms to him, and cried out in a voice - of despair: - </p> - <p> - "Stand by me, Jack, stand by me. I knew nothing of this. It is as great a - surprise to me as to you. Oh, my poor brother! He has done this for love - of me." - </p> - <p> - Murchison heard the impassioned tones, the despairing appeal. They would - have melted a heart of stone. What effect would they have upon the - unsuspicious Jack? - </p> - <p> - Pomfret withdrew himself, almost coldly, from the proffered embrace. In a - few seconds, as it seemed to Hugh, he had grown from a boy to a man. - </p> - <p> - He turned to the detective, and Hugh was delighted at the sudden dignity - that seemed to have come to him. - </p> - <p> - "You seem to know a great deal about this man whom you have handcuffed, - and who admits you are only doing your duty. Do you know anything about - his sister, Miss Burton?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Davidson glanced significantly at Murchison. They had arranged a - little conversation between themselves, but Jack's frankness had rendered - this unnecessary. - </p> - <p> - "What I know of the young lady, sir, I am sorry to tell you, is not to her - credit. She has been associated with this man for some years. She started - with him in Paris some time ago, when he was a card-sharper, and running a - gambling-saloon. But to be fair, she is not in this business with him, and - I have nothing against her." - </p> - <p> - "Are they what they represent themselves to be, brother and sister?" - Pomfret's voice was very quiet, but there was in it a suppressed note of - agony. How he had loved this girl, and a few hours ago he had clasped her - in his arms as his wife! - </p> - <p> - The keen eyes of the detective softened as he looked at Jack, who was - hiding the most intense agitation under an apparently stoical demeanour. - </p> - <p> - "I have no accurate information on that point, sir, but I should very much - doubt the fact of their relationship." - </p> - <p> - While this brief conversation was taking place between Pomfret and - Davidson, Norah was still standing with arms outstretched. - </p> - <p> - Again there came forth the appealing, impassioned cry: "Jack, stand by me! - Jack, stand by me!" She sank down on the sofa, and put her hands before - her face. "Stay with me, wait till they have all gone, and I will explain - everything. I have nothing to do with this." - </p> - <p> - But Pomfret stood like a man turned to stone. Then suddenly, Norah gave a - little gurgling cry, and fainted. Pomfret made a step towards her, and - halted. His great love for her had been killed. Perhaps at this moment he - hated her more than he had ever loved her. - </p> - <p> - The parlour-maid, with a white face, was peeping in the room. Davidson - beckoned to her. - </p> - <p> - "My colleague will help you to take her up to her room. Look after her. - She's as game as they make them, but to-night's t been too much for her. - She has been playing for big stakes, and she has lost." - </p> - <p> - The maid and Davidson's burly assistant lifted up the recumbent form. And - when they had carried her out, Pomfret's self-control seemed to give way. - He suddenly clutched at his throat and turned to Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "Old man, I have had as much as I can stand. For Heaven's sake, take me - from this accursed house." - </p> - <p> - Hugh put his arm under his to steady him. - </p> - <p> - The boy's nerve had gone, he was trembling like a man stricken with the - ague. There was no cab or taxi to be got in this outlying district. They - had to walk back to the barracks. - </p> - <p> - Hugh planted him in an easy-chair in his own quarters, and mixed him a - stiff peg. Even Dutch courage was better than nothing. Pom-fret drank it - in two big gulps. Then he pulled himself together. - </p> - <p> - "I have been an infernal fool, old man," he gasped, "an infernal fool." - </p> - <p> - Hugh spoke soothingly. "Of course you have. But the folly is over. You now - know Norah Burton and her rascally brother for what they are, a pair of - criminals and adventurers." - </p> - <p> - "But you don't know all," groaned the unfortunate Jack. "Norah Burton is - my wife. I married her secretly the other day, by special licence, while I - was up in London." - </p> - <p> - Hugh leapt to his feet in astonishment. He had his own ideas of that visit - to London, coupled with Norah's absence. But that Pom-fret, weak and - impressionable as he was, should have made such a fool of himself, was - beyond the limits of his comprehension. - </p> - <p> - In a moment he pulled himself together. The poor lad was in a big mess - enough, it was no time to rub it in. "Tell me all about it, old chap," he - said quietly. - </p> - <p> - And Pomfret told him. He made it clear, perfect gentleman as he was, that - Norah had been the least to blame in the matter, that the suggestion had - come from himself, that Norah had insisted upon consulting her brother - before yielding to his wishes. - </p> - <p> - Yes, of course, Hugh could understand all that. They had known just the - kind of man they were dealing with. They had hooked and landed their fish - well. To a woman in her uncertain state, a husband with some prospects was - better than her insecure position with a scoundrel like George Burton. - </p> - <p> - Hugh filled a big pipe full up with a very strong and potent tobacco. He - thought better when he was smoking, and this was a situation that demanded - a good deal of thought. - </p> - <p> - After a while he spoke. "Well, Jack, let us look facts in the face. What - is done can't be undone. You have married this woman, and as long as she - lives she is entitled to call herself Mrs. Pomfret, and you will have to - keep her. There is no getting over that." - </p> - <p> - The unhappy Jack groaned. There was no getting over that. This attractive, - charming young woman, sister or confederate, or whatever relationship she - stood in to this wretched criminal, was his legal wife, and, if she chose, - she could make things very uncomfortable for him. - </p> - <p> - "Well, old man, you have made a hash of your life at the very beginning of - it. As I say, that can't be undone. You've got to make the best of it. I - suppose you have entered into some financial arrangements with her." - </p> - <p> - "Seven hundred a year till I come into my aunt's money. After that, of - course, our marriage was to be acknowledged, and we would live together." - </p> - <p> - "I see," said Hugh, assuming a cheerfulness he did not quite feel. "Well, - I should not say she would try for more than her seven hundred a year at - present. When your aunt dies she will of course fight for a bit more. I - take it, after to-night's work, you will never want to live with her, - cajoling and attractive as she is." - </p> - <p> - Pomfret shuddered. "After what that fellow said, my love for her died. - But, by Heaven, Hugh, I did love her while I believed in her." - </p> - <p> - "Of course, of course. Have you signed any document about that seven - hundred, by the way?" - </p> - <p> - "Not yet. My solicitor is sending me the document to-day, it will reach me - to-morrow morning." - </p> - <p> - "It will make it a little easier to deal with her, then. Are you going to - leave yourself in my hands? I don't think she will be very full of fight - for the next few days." - </p> - <p> - "Certainly I will, Hugh. Do your best for me. I never want to see her - again, of that you may be sure." - </p> - <p> - Murchison reflected deeply before he spoke again. "I doubt if she will - trouble you very much. It won't be very difficult to compromise with her, - she has too much to hide. And now for yourself." - </p> - <p> - "Yes," groaned the unhappy Pomfret, in a hollow voice. "And now for - myself. What do you suggest?" - </p> - <p> - "There's only one thing to do, and that is to put the past behind you. As - long as this woman lives, you can never marry. But many men go through - life and remain bachelors, and are not altogether unhappy. You must make - up your mind to be one of the bachelors, Jack." - </p> - <p> - But Jack looked very despairing. The shock had been a terrible one. In - spite of the stiff peg he had taken, his face was still livid, and his - hands were shaking. - </p> - <p> - Hugh looked at him anxiously. He was very weak; had the occurrences of - this terrible night driven him over the border line that separates sanity - from insanity? - </p> - <p> - Presently he muttered, almost as if to himself, certain disjointed - phrases. Hugh caught a few of them, repeated again and again. - </p> - <p> - "Tied to her for life, she will outlive me, tied to her for life. She will - never let me go. My poor family! I have always been a fool, but up to now - have never brought disgrace to them. And God forgive me, I was reckoning - on the death of my poor old generous aunt, it is idle to say I did not - speculate on it. And for what, for what?—the pretended affection, - the bought kisses of this adventuress, a card-sharper's decoy, who told me - lying tales about the way in which her criminal associate had inherited - his money." - </p> - <p> - He rambled on like this for some quarter of an hour, and Murchison judged - it was better to let him ease his mind in such a fashion. - </p> - <p> - In a way, the poor foolish boy's brain had cleared up to a point; he was - able to look the facts squarely in the face. His infatuation might have - been so deep that he might, under these damning circumstances, have fallen - a victim to her wiles a second time. She would no doubt have been - prepared, if he had given her the opportunity, to have sworn her - innocence, to have protested that she was the victim of circumstantial - evidence, that she had believed what her brother had told her, that she - had never been a partner in, or a confidant of, his criminal schemes. - </p> - <p> - No, so far the rude shock had cleared his brain, made him see and think - more clearly. But Murchison very much feared that the agonising remorse - for his folly was obscuring it in another direction. - </p> - <p> - He seemed to look upon himself as something unclean in having allowed - himself to be contaminated by association with such a wretched - adventuress. He was also acutely conscious that, at the best, he would - have to take this horrible secret with him to the grave, unless it sprang - suddenly to light, as such secrets have a knack of doing. Above all, he - keenly felt the disgrace he had inflicted on his family. - </p> - <p> - There was a great deal more desultory talk, and Hugh gave him the best - advice he could under the unhappy circumstances—a reiteration of the - "put it behind you and live it down" philosophy. This would have come easy - to a man of the rocky and stolid type to which Murchison belonged by - temperament. But Jack was highly-strung and impulsive. There was no - ballast in him. - </p> - <p> - Hugh almost had to push him out of the room. But, before doing so, he - mixed the boy another stiff peg, with the hope that it would induce sleep - and purchase him the oblivion of a few hours. - </p> - <p> - "Now then, old man, toddle off. Get a good night's rest, and when you wake - tomorrow, you will find things look pretty black, but not quite so black - as now. If this young woman contemplates a deep game, and wants to insist - overmuch on her rights as your wife, I will deal with her on your behalf. - I'll warrant I bring her to reason." - </p> - <p> - The poor distraught boy clasped his friend's hand convulsively. "Hugh, old - chap, you are the best friend a man could ever have, true as steel." - </p> - <p> - "Don't say that," replied Hugh with a little break in his voice. "I am - bound to do the best for you. It was owing to my infernal folly that you - ever set foot in that cursed house. I am older and stronger than you, I - ought to have known better. Well, good old Jack, good-night! I tell you, - things won't look quite as black to-morrow." - </p> - <p> - But to Hugh's intense grief and remorse, there was no morrow for the - unhappy boy, whose mind had been quite unhinged by the events of that - terrible night. One could only surmise that he had found sleep impossible, - and in a fit of frenzy had taken his life to escape from a future so black - and discouraging. - </p> - <p> - When his servant went to call him in the morning, he found his master - lying on the floor, with a bullet-hole in the middle of his forehead. - Everybody in the barracks had been fast asleep when the poor boy had fired - the shot that was to take him out of his troubles, and nobody had heard - the report. - </p> - <p> - At the inquest, the whole miserable story came out. Of course it came - through Hugh, the only person who was in possession of it. He narrated the - details of his acquaintance with the Burtons, the introduction of Jack - Pomfret to the house, the scene at Rosemount when the two detectives had - taken the man, Jack's confession that he had made the girl his wife a few - hours previously. - </p> - <p> - Hugh never forgot that interview with the Colonel, in which "Old - Fireworks" poured out his wrath in no measured terms. He roundly called - him an infernal fool for mixing himself up with people of whom he knew - nothing, and whom Blankfield in its ignorance of their antecedents had - declined to visit—and very wisely. - </p> - <p> - "If it had been poor Jack, a dear lad but a foolish, I could have found it - in my heart to forgive him," he ended. "But you are a man of another sort, - you have got your wits about you, if you choose to exercise them. I will - never pardon you that day's work. You can play with fire and not be - scorched, but he couldn't. That poor boy's death lies at your door, sir. I - hope you realise it." - </p> - <p> - Yes, Hugh did realise it. He stood with bowed head, and could not utter a - word in self-defence. - </p> - <p> - The news, of course, was all over the town the next morning, or rather the - double news—that George Burton had been arrested by two detectives - from Scotland Yard, and that in the early morning of the following day - Jack Pomfret had blown out his brains. The evidence at the inquest - explained the double event. - </p> - <p> - The news of her young husband's suicide reached Norah early in the - morning. She had gambled and lost. The old adventurous life was in front - of her again. - </p> - <p> - She took the buffets of fate with the stoicism of her kind and class. She - had a comfortable little nest-egg put by which stood between her and - present want. If only Jack had been less emotional, she would not have - troubled him much, been content with quite a little. It is to be feared - that, in her bitter disappointment, she felt a little sore against Jack - for his moral cowardice in getting comfortably out of it himself, and - leaving her in the lurch. - </p> - <p> - Anyway, she faced the situation with a courage that one could not refuse - to admire. By two o'clock that same day the servants had been paid their - wages, the keys of the furnished house handed over to the agent, and Mrs. - Pomfret had departed for London. - </p> - <p> - Murchison could never forget that terrible time till something came that - seemed to dwarf all other things. In August, nineteen hundred and - fourteen, there burst the first storm of the war which shook the world to - its centre. In the blood-soaked plains of France he forgot everything - except his country. - </p> - <p> - Jack Pomfret and Norah Burton seemed dim memories in those strenuous times - of the world's upheaval. And yet, when he had a moment's leisure to think - of the past, he felt a savage longing to be even with that fair-faced, - smiling adventuress who had driven his poor young friend to a suicide's - grave. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t's a good - proposition, old man. You couldn't employ a couple of hours better. I have - been in London Society of all sorts for the best part of my life, and I - tell you that Stella Keane is the most charming girl I have ever met." - </p> - <p> - The speaker was little Tommy Esmond, short, genial, and rotund of person. - Tommy knew everybody who was anybody, and everybody knew the mercurial - Tommy. - </p> - <p> - Guy Spencer puffed leisurely at his cigar, and regarded his rotund little - friend with an amused smile. Spencer was about thirty, Tommy was old - enough to be his father. But he wore well. - </p> - <p> - "Most excellent Tommy, how many times have I heard you say the same thing? - Every girl you come across is the most charming you have ever met—until - one sees you the next week. And then, the last girl has the super-charm—like - the young lady you just mentioned, Miss Stella Keane." - </p> - <p> - But Esmond was not to be rebuffed by a clumsy attempt at humour on the - part of a young man so much his junior. Besides, Tommy was impervious to - humour. It fell off him, like water from a duck's back. In his way he was - a very strenuous little man, he had no time to frivol. - </p> - <p> - "Don't try to be funny, old man: it doesn't suit you. Be sensible, and - come round with me to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat and be introduced to Miss - Keane." - </p> - <p> - "It's an interesting suggestion, Tommy, but before I decide tell me first—who - is Mrs. L'Estrange, and secondly, who and what is Miss Keane?" - </p> - <p> - And Tommy Esmond launched forth on a full flow of narrative. Mrs. - L'Estrange was the first cousin of a well-known Irish earl, and was—well, - in somewhat reduced circumstances, and had a snug little flat in the - Cadogan district. - </p> - <p> - "Mrs. L'Estrange is quite satisfactorily explained," remarked Guy, - interrupting his rather voluble friend. "Now what do you really know about - Miss Keane?" - </p> - <p> - Here, Esmond was a little less precise. Mrs. L'Estrange he knew quite - well, had known her ever since he had been in London; her ancestry and - connections were unimpeachable. - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane, it would appear, had been suddenly projected into the - L'Estrange household, as it were, from space. He understood that she was a - distant connection, a far-off cousin, but he could give no particulars. - </p> - <p> - Tommy, with the born instinct of the true diplomatist, was always ready to - present everything in its best light, but he lacked the one essential - quality of the born diplomatist—he was not very successful when he - came to camouflaging facts. - </p> - <p> - Spencer's smile was more amused than ever, as he regarded his genial - friend. Spencer was only thirty, and Tommy was at least old enough to be - his father. But there were times when the younger man thought he saw more - clearly than the elder. - </p> - <p> - "Let us put it at this, Tommy. Mrs. L'Estrange, being in somewhat - straitened circumstances, supplements her meagre income by card-playing, - at which I have no doubt she is an adept." - </p> - <p> - And here, the usually placid Tommy interposed hotly: "You may say of Mrs. - L'Estrange what you like. But, if you propose to offer any derogatory - remarks about Miss Keane, I would rather not listen to them." - </p> - <p> - And Spencer kept a curb on his tongue. Was this fat, comical-looking - little man, a most unromantic figure, violently in love with Miss Stella - Keane, and her sworn champion? Far be it from him to disturb his faith in - this seductive siren, if it were so. - </p> - <p> - "It's all right, old chap," he said quietly. "I am not going to make any - remarks, derogatory or otherwise, about Miss Keane. I think I will adopt - your suggestion. Let us adjourn to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat. If one loses - fifty or a hundred one may have a good time." - </p> - <p> - "You will see the most charming girl in London," cried Esmond in - enthusiastic tones. It struck Spencer, as a peculiar phase of his t - friend's detachment, that, being in love with the girl himself, he should - be so anxious to introduce her to a younger man, who might, presumably, be - his rival. - </p> - <p> - For there could be no question of rivalry between the two men, apart from - their ages. Spencer was tall, athletic, handsome: Tommy Esmond was—just - Tommy Esmond—rotund, comical in appearance, and insignificant. - </p> - <p> - Moreover, Spencer had other qualifications which are not without their - influence on the fair sex. He had a considerable fortune, and he was the - next in succession to an ancient earldom. If the Earl of Southleigh, a - widower, did not marry again, he would succeed to the title and estates. - He was, in every sense of the term, an eligible <i>parti</i>. - </p> - <p> - The long, weary war was drawing to its close. The two men were dining at - the fashionable "Excelsior" and were now about half-way through their - dinner. - </p> - <p> - Spencer had the bearing of a soldier, and he would have been at the Front - long ago, but no doctor could be found who would pass him. To all - appearance, he possessed the thews and sinews of an athlete, but the - stalwart, manly frame covered an incurably weak heart, which played him - strange tricks at times. He was serving his country in the best way open - to him, and doing good, sound clerical work in a Government Office. - </p> - <p> - "When do you suggest we should put in an appearance at Mrs. L'Estrange's?" - he asked presently. - </p> - <p> - "It will take us another half-hour to get through this abundant meal. You - will then have your coffee, and you will want a good and long cigar. We - began rather late, you will remember. By the time you have got through - your smoke, we will make a move. We shall then find them in full swing." - </p> - <p> - Guy nodded, and went on with his dinner. He was quite willing to go to the - L'Estrange flat: he had no other engagement this evening, and it would be - something to do. But he was not greatly interested about meeting the most - beautiful girl in London. In spite of his friend's almost lyrical - outbursts, he expected that Miss Stella Keane would prove a very ordinary - young woman. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Tommy Esmond uttered an exclamation. "Look, there they are," he - whispered excitedly across the table. "Mrs. L'Estrange and her cousin. The - man with them is Colonel Desmond, the man who won the Victoria Cross in - the Boer war." - </p> - <p> - Tommy's round face was red with pleasurable emotion. Was there any doubt, - thought Spencer, that the little man was tremendously smitten by the - beautiful Miss Keane? would it result in a marriage, he wondered? Tommy - was well-off, and a person of some importance in his little social world. - And if Miss Keane was as lovely as his fond imagination painted her, it - was quite evident that she was poor. Penniless young girls have before now - accepted the shelter of a safe home, even when offered by comical-looking - little elderly men. - </p> - <p> - The three newcomers moved to a vacant table; Mrs. L'Estrange, a woman of - middle age, dressed rather more youthfully than was quite in good taste, - their escort, a tall figure in khaki, very upright and soldierly in his - bearing, in spite of his sixty years, and last, but by no means least, the - beautiful Miss Keane. - </p> - <p> - Yes, at the first glance, the young man decided that she fully deserved - his friend's somewhat extravagant praise. If everybody in London was not - raving over her, it was simply due to the fact that her cousin's circle - was not important, and that she had found nobody of sufficient social - influence to launch her with the necessary <i>cachet</i>. - </p> - <p> - If she had made her <i>début</i> at one of the great houses, stamped with - the approval of any one of London's distinguished hostesses, Society - journals would have gone into rhapsodies over her, and she would have been - one of the reigning beauties of the hour, far, far beyond the aspirations - of little Tommy Esmond. - </p> - <p> - His own special taste rather inclined towards fair women, his cousin, Lady - Nina, of whom he was very fond, being a charming specimen of that type. - But he was no bigot in the matter of feminine beauty, and he was prepared - to admit that there were some dark women who could compare favourably with - their blonde sisters. - </p> - <p> - But Stella Keane was not very dark. She had soft brown eyes, glossy dark - hair, and a beautiful creamy complexion, a mouth like Cupid's bow, - revealing when she smiled, teeth of a dazzling ivory. Her figure would - have been pronounced perfect by the most critical and fastidious artist. - </p> - <p> - "What do you think of her?" asked the delighted Tommy, after he had given - his friend a decent time for his inspection. - </p> - <p> - Tommy was a man whose friends had got into the habit of smiling at him, - even when they agreed with him. Spencer smiled at him quite as often as - any of his acquaintance, but at this moment he was perfectly grave. - </p> - <p> - "You are quite right, old man, this time," he said quietly. "She is really - beautiful, and her carriage is splendid. She looks like a young Empress—or, - rather, she fulfils one's idea of what a young Empress should be." - </p> - <p> - Tommy beamed. He drank in the words of unstinted praise like wine. The - little blue eyes, usually devoid of expression, seemed suffused with a - soft emotion. There was something pathetic in his devotion to this radiant - young woman who looked like a youthful Empress. - </p> - <p> - "And she is as good and sweet as she looks," he murmured in a voice that - he could not keep steady. "When she talks to you seriously and lets you - know what she really thinks and feels, by gad, Spencer, it makes a - battered old worldling like myself feel unworthy to be in her presence. - For she has a beautiful soul and mind as well as a beautiful body." - </p> - <p> - Spencer could only look sympathetic. Poor little Tommy, he certainly - seemed to talk like a lover. And what did Miss Keane think of it all? She - must have more than a mere tolerance for him, or she would not have - allowed him those peeps into her mind and soul to which he alluded with - such unrestrained rapture. - </p> - <p> - It was some time before Esmond's intense gaze attracted the attention of - the party, and when it did, he was rewarded with a most affable smile from - Mrs. L'Estrange, and one of quite pronounced friendliness from Miss Keane. - The Colonel also bestowed a genial nod. - </p> - <p> - After a pause, Tommy spoke somewhat ruefully. "I'm afraid this rather - upsets our little plans. Mrs. L'Estrange is a most conscientious diner: - she will be here, at the lowest calculation, for an hour and a half, - counting the coffee and cigarettes. They won't be back at the flat under a - couple. You wouldn't care to wait so long." - </p> - <p> - He looked rather wistfully at his companion. He, for his own part, would - have waited half the night. - </p> - <p> - "Don't let us commit ourselves, old man, but await events. We haven't - finished our dinner yet, and the service is deucedly slow. We can put in a - lot more time. You can pay your respects at a fitting moment, and perhaps - they will ask us to their table. I must confess I should like to see Miss - Keane at closer quarters, and talk to her. Although I don't expect she - will reveal as much to me as she does to you." - </p> - <p> - Tommy looked pleased again; he was very bent upon introducing Spencer to - his beautiful young friend. It would come about presently: if not here, in - the lounge. Already, Mrs. L'Estrange had sent a few covert glances in the - direction of their table. There was little doubt she knew who his - companion was, and would be quite pleased to number him amongst her - acquaintance. - </p> - <p> - "Has Miss Keane many admirers? She should have," remarked Spencer - presently. He noticed that Esmond's eyes were always turned in the - direction of that particular table. - </p> - <p> - "Not any serious ones, I fancy. A few young fellows send her flowers, but - nothing more. It is quite an unsuitable <i>ménage</i> for a girl of her - attractions. The majority of the <i>habitués</i> are middle-aged men who - go there simply to gamble. The few young ones come for a flutter, and - disappear when they have had enough." - </p> - <p> - "Does the young lady play?" - </p> - <p> - "I have never seen her. She has told me scores of times that she loathes - gambling. Her father ruined himself by it. I believe she is really very - unhappy there. And I gather Mrs. L'Estrange has not the best of tempers, - particularly when she has had bad luck." - </p> - <p> - "Hobson's choice, I expect," suggested Spencer sympathetically. Miss Keane - was facing him, giving him ample opportunity to examine the beautiful - countenance, and it struck him that there was an underlying expression of - sadness on the perfect features, especially when in repose. - </p> - <p> - "I fear so," was Esmond's answer. "She is very reticent about her own - affairs, as any gentlewoman would be. But from certain things she has let - drop, I make out her own means are very slender, and her cousin's - hospitality is a boon to her." - </p> - <p> - Half an hour passed, and Spencer lit a big cigar. The two men chatted on - various topics. Mrs. L'Estrange and the Colonel were still doing full - justice to the excellent dishes offered them. Miss Keane was apparently - satisfied, and sat quietly watching her companions, and throwing in an - occasional remark. - </p> - <p> - And suddenly came the loud sound of maroons. Everybody started. A few - seconds later the clamour and roaring of our own guns burst forth. There - was no doubt as to what was happening. The Germans were making one of - their unwelcome visits. - </p> - <p> - "By heavens, it's a raid, and we are in the thick of it," cried Tommy - Esmond, rising excitedly. He was a nervous little man, and his face had - grown a shade pale at the sound of the first boom. - </p> - <p> - In a few moments there was a stampede from the dining-room. The guests - hurried as fast as they could to the basement and cellars. - </p> - <p> - Tommy, in his progress, was impeded by two burly men who were making their - way leisurely. Spencer was a few feet in front of him, making for the - crowd that surged round the doors. As he looked around the deserted - tables, he saw Miss Keane standing alone, her eyes almost rigid with - terror, her hands clutching convulsively the back of the chair on which - she had been sitting. It was evident that the Colonel had quickly removed - Mrs. L'Estrange from the scene of danger, and she had been too - panic-stricken to follow them. - </p> - <p> - He crossed over to her. "Excuse me," he said gently. "I am a friend of Mr. - Esmond's. How is it you are alone? Did your companions desert you?" - </p> - <p> - "Colonel Desmond took my cousin, and told me to keep close behind them. - when I got up, my limbs seemed unable to move. I feel as if I were - paralysed." - </p> - <p> - He took her arm and put it through his. It was evident she had been - rendered immobile by terror. - </p> - <p> - "I will take care of you," he said soothingly. "Downstairs you will be - quite safe. But we will let this crowd get through first." - </p> - <p> - Tommy Esmond came bustling up, all anxiety. Truth to tell, he did not feel - over brave, but his anxiety for himself was lost in the contemplation of - her white face and stricken eyes. - </p> - <p> - Slowly, cheered by the presence of the two men, a little colour flowed - back into her cheeks, and she smiled wanly. - </p> - <p> - "I am a fearful coward," she explained. "I go all to pieces in even the - mildest thunderstorm." - </p> - <p> - And it was in this wise, amid the crash of falling bombs, and the roar and - clamour of our own guns, that Guy Spencer made the acquaintance of Stella - Keane. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey found shelter - in one of the big cellars of the Restaurant, and Miss Keane by degrees got - back some of her courage. There were about twenty other persons in the - same refuge, and she probably derived fortitude from their temporary - companionship, and common danger. Tommy Esmond recovered himself very - quickly, and hastened to observe the conventions. - </p> - <p> - "It is a queer time and place in which to make introductions," he remarked - genially. "But even in times of peril, one should preserve the usages of - good society. I don't suppose you know the name of your gallant rescuer. - Let me make you known, in a formal fashion. Mr. Spencer—Miss Keane." - </p> - <p> - The beautiful Stella bowed her dark head, and the ghost of a smile flitted - over her still pale face. - </p> - <p> - "I know Mr. Spencer very well by sight. When I have recovered my wits, I - will thank him properly and prettily. Perhaps he will come and see us at - my cousin's flat." - </p> - <p> - "I was bringing him on there to-night, as a matter of fact," explained - Esmond. "But I presume all that is knocked on the head, even supposing we - get out of this disgusting hole in reasonable time. Mrs. L'Estrange won't - be in a mood to receive visitors, after this disquieting experience, I am - sure." - </p> - <p> - "I am afraid you don't know Mrs. L'Estrange," replied the girl, with a - little mocking laugh. Her tones were not yet quite steady, but she was - rapidly recovering herself. "The card tables were laid before we started, - and we intended to be back early. If we get out safely from this - disgusting hole, as you call it, my cousin will resume her ordinary - pursuits, as if nothing had occurred to disturb them." - </p> - <p> - Desultory conversation, the irresponsible chatter of the drawing-room - kind, was almost impossible under the circumstances. And although Miss - Keane did her best to assume a brave front, it was easy to see that she - was inwardly quivering. At every roar of the guns, she shivered all over, - and her cheek alternately flushed and then grew deadly pale with her - inward terror. - </p> - <p> - "Poor child," whispered Spencer to his companion; "she must be a bundle of - nerves. Every second, she is experiencing the pangs of death in - anticipation. By the way, the gallant Desmond doesn't seem to have - troubled himself much about her. If I hadn't taken her forcibly away, I - believe she would be rooted to that chair now." - </p> - <p> - Esmond shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, a chap like Desmond doesn't - know the meaning of fear, and he can't understand the sensation in others. - The other woman took possession of him, and dragged him away. No doubt, he - thought she was following. Mrs. L'Estrange, so far as I can judge, would - never think of anything but number one." - </p> - <p> - And as Spencer's glance stole to the fair face, he felt a strange feeling - of pity for her. The poignant happenings of the last few moments had - revealed to him her loneliness, the tragedy of her dependence upon others. - In a supreme moment of peril, she, who ought to have lovers and friends by - the score, was left by herself, and thrown upon the compassion of a - stranger. - </p> - <p> - An anxious half-hour passed, and then messengers came down with tidings of - a reassuring nature. The raiders had been driven off, after inflicting - considerable damage. Gay London was free to pursue its natural course of - pleasure. - </p> - <p> - At once the tension was relaxed. Drooping forms resumed an erect carriage, - the roses bloomed again in the pale cheeks of the women. There was a - flutter, a stir. They all moved away from the refuge which had been so - welcome, and now had become unbearable. - </p> - <p> - In the hall they encountered the Colonel, cool and collected, as if he - were on parade, Mrs. L'Estrange fluttering and full of protestations. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, my poor Stella! I have been distracted about you. Why did you not - follow us? I thought you were close behind us all the time, till we got to - one of these abominable cellars, and looked back to find you were - missing." - </p> - <p> - The Colonel pulled at his moustache a little nervously. - </p> - <p> - "I shall never forgive myself, Miss Keane, not to have assured myself you - were with us at the start. I would have come back to search for you, but - Mrs. L'Estrange was in such a nervous state I could not leave her." - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane answered him very coldly, and to her cousin she did not - vouchsafe any reply. - </p> - <p> - "Please do not apologise. It was a question of <i>sauve qui peut</i>. - Fortunately, I found some kind friends who took compassion on a forlorn - damsel, shaking and terror-stricken." She turned to Mrs. L'Estrange. "Mr. - Esmond is, of course, an old friend. But you do not know Mr. Spencer who - got to me first." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange was quite equal to the occasion; she extended her - perfectly-gloved hand with an air of effusive cordiality. - </p> - <p> - "A thousand thanks to you both. My darling Stella was fortunate in finding - such protectors. We are both terrible cowards, I don't know which is the - greater." - </p> - <p> - "I, without question," flashed out Miss Keane. "Otherwise I should have - had the sense to scurry away like yourself. We were both frightened - rabbits, but you could run to a place of safety while I stood paralysed." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange turned away the awkward thrust with a charming smile. "I - have made up my mind to one thing," she remarked with an air of - conviction. "Never, so long as the War lasts, will I dine out of my own - home. This night's experience has taught me a lesson. I don't want a - second one." - </p> - <p> - At this juncture, Tommy Esmond interposed. "I was going to bring my friend - Spencer round to you to-night. But I suppose you feel a bit too shattered, - eh? You would like to get home and rest." - </p> - <p> - "Oh dear, no!" replied the lady vivaciously. "I never alter my habits for - anything or anybody. Let us all go along at once. I will go with Colonel - Desmond. You and Mr. Spencer can continue your charge of Stella." - </p> - <p> - But Guy had a small duty to perform. "I think if you will excuse me, I - will join you a little later. I want to go round to inquire after my uncle - and cousin. He is a very old man, and I should like to know he is quite - safe." - </p> - <p> - So it was arranged. The others drove off to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat, and - Spencer, finding he would have some time to wait for a taxi, walked to - Carlton House Terrace, where Lord South-leigh had his town house. - </p> - <p> - The footman who opened the door informed him that his lordship and Lady - Nina were still in the dining-room with a small party. The earl had taken - it all very calmly, and his daughter, who, unlike poor Stella Keane, was a - young woman of remarkable courage, had not been disturbed at all. - </p> - <p> - "Are they alone, Robert?" - </p> - <p> - "No, sir, two old friends of his lordship's came to dinner to-night and - are still with them. But, of course, they will be glad to see you." - </p> - <p> - However, his duty being performed, and learning that all was satisfactory, - Spencer thought he might as well get along to the flat. He had been - strangely attracted by the beautiful girl, whom even her obvious terror - and lack of self-control could not deprive of her charm. - </p> - <p> - "No, I won't come in. Tell them I called round to make sure they were all - safe. And say to her ladyship I will look in to-morrow afternoon about - tea-time." - </p> - <p> - He went into his club for a few moments to see if there were any letters, - and half an hour later was at Mrs. L'Estrange's door. - </p> - <p> - She occupied the first floor of an imposing block of flats, recently - erected in one of the semi-fashionable quarters of London. She might not - be in very affluent circumstances, as Esmond had hinted, but she would - have to pay a very handsome rent for her abode. - </p> - <p> - The door was opened by a decorous-looking butler, with the air of one who - had served in good families. A man passed out as Spencer entered. He was a - good-looking young fellow of about twenty-five, in khaki. Spencer knew him - well by sight as the eldest son and heir of a rich brewer. - </p> - <p> - His face did not wear a very happy expression. It did not require a - Sherlock Holmes to surmise that his visit had been an expensive one, and - that he was hurrying away to avoid further temptation. - </p> - <p> - In the centre of a rather spacious hall, Stella Keane and Tommy Esmond - stood chatting. - </p> - <p> - She greeted the newcomer with a bright and friendly smile. She no longer - looked pale, in fact he thought there was a slight suspicion of rouge on - the fair cheeks. She was too goodlooking to need the aid of art, but - perhaps she wanted to conceal the ravages inflicted on her beauty by that - terrible time at the "Excelsior." - </p> - <p> - "You are not very long after us. I conclude you found your friends were - quite safe." - </p> - <p> - She had gathered from the garrulous Tommy what she had not known before, - that Spencer was next in succession to the earldom, also that Lord - Southleigh had a very pretty daughter, who was an accomplished young - sportswoman, a daring rider to hounds, an adept at golf, fishing, and - other pastimes of a strenuous nature. - </p> - <p> - She had pricked up her ears at mention of the cousin. Artfully she pumped - Tommy as to whether there was any tender feeling between the relatives. - </p> - <p> - But Tommy could give no information on this point. Spencer was a very - reticent man about his private affairs, he explained. Personally, he - should not consider him particularly susceptible to female influence. But - he had heard that the old earl, who had a shockingly weak heart, and was - likely to go off at any moment, would have viewed a marriage between the - cousins with favour. - </p> - <p> - She mused over his words. He did not think him particularly susceptible to - female influence. And yet she was sure there was admiration, open, - undisguised admiration, in the glances he had bestowed upon her to-night. - He was evidently not deeply in love with his pretty sporting cousin, or - she would have been Mrs. Guy Spencer before now, assuming, of course, that - she was ready to obey her father's wishes. - </p> - <p> - It was after a short silence that Miss Keane put a somewhat abrupt - question to him: "Are you fond of play, Mr. Spencer? Everybody is who - comes here." - </p> - <p> - "Not really. I am a very lukewarm gambler. I don't mind a little flutter - now and then, as a diversion. I always enjoy a small gamble at Monte - Carlo, for example, but I never get carried away. When I have lost enough, - I stop. Nothing could induce me to stake another <i>sou</i>." - </p> - <p> - "Can you stop as easily when you are winning? That, I fancy, is where the - selfcontrol comes in. But I think I am rather glad you are not one of the - infatuated ones. I was brought up in an atmosphere of gambling." - </p> - <p> - There was a pathetic shadow in the beautiful brown eyes as she spoke. - Spencer's interest in her, a girl he had only known for a couple of hours, - quickened. The glance he turned on her was full of sympathy, although he - did not utter a word. It said as plainly as if he had spoken: "Tell me - more about yourself, you will find an attentive listener." - </p> - <p> - "My father and mother were both desperate gamblers. They staked and lost - everything they had at cards, on the race-course, at Monte Carlo. My poor - cousin, Mrs. L'Estrange, has the same fever in her veins." - </p> - <p> - Now that he had invited her confidence, he was a little embarrassed by it. - He did not know her well enough to condole with her. By way of relieving - the tension, he uttered a few trite remarks on the subject of gambling - generally. - </p> - <p> - "Very sad when people are bitten by it to that extent. In my small - experience, and I am only speaking of cards, I have found that, at the end - of twelve months, you leave off pretty well where you started, good - players or bad. You lose a hundred this week, you win a hundred the next, - and so on, and so forth. If you are a good player, you get bad cards; if a - duffer, you get good cards. And so the bad player has a pretty even chance - with his more skilful opponent." - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane threw aside her momentary sadness, and laughed at his - scientific exposition. - </p> - <p> - "You have evidently thought it all out," she said brightly. "But please - don't inflict these cheerful theories on my cousin. She is a most tragic - being when she loses. She thinks herself, and I believe is, one of the - most scientific bridge-players in England, and she cannot be brought to - understand why the duffers should have a look in." - </p> - <p> - At this juncture Tommy Esmond interposed. It may have occurred to him that - they were wasting precious time. They had come here for the special - purpose of gambling. - </p> - <p> - "What do you say to joining the others? We are in the very temple of - gambling, and I know my young friend would like a little flutter." - </p> - <p> - "Certainly. When I last peeped in, Amy looked the spirit of despair. I - think she must have been losing heavily." - </p> - <p> - She turned to lead the way, but at that instant the door-bell rang, and - she halted, in readiness to greet the visitor, whoever it might be; and - there entered a florid-looking, stout man, who advanced towards her with - effusion, and both hands outstretched. - </p> - <p> - "My dear Stella, I have been thinking of you ever since the raid began; I - know how terribly you suffer when they are on. And I knew you were dining - out to-night. I am rejoiced to see you safe and sound. I came round here - the moment I could get away." - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane flushed slightly as he took her hands and wrung them - impressively to show his gratitude at her escape from peril. Tommy Esmond - had given him a cool nod. But she felt Spencer's calm, critical gaze upon - this ebullient expression of young English manhood. - </p> - <p> - It was not so much what he said, as his manner of saying it. Bounder was - written all over him, in his appearance, his manners, his gestures. - </p> - <p> - She answered him very briefly, almost curtly, as if she were administering - a cold douche. Then the flush deepened as she turned to Spencer. - </p> - <p> - "May I introduce my cousin, Mr. Dutton?" - </p> - <p> - The florid man bowed with an exaggerated air of cordiality. Spencer, who - had taken a violent dislike to him from the first second he saw him, - acknowledged the salutation with chilling gravity; and Stella Keane could - almost read his thoughts, as his gaze travelled from one to the other. - </p> - <p> - How could this imperial-looking girl have such an unmitigated bounder for - a relative? What was the mystery about her that could make a creature like - this claim kinship with her? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs. L'Estrange was - evidently a great believer in light: the electric bulbs glowed softly, but - brilliantly, over the two rooms devoted to the service of the - card-players. - </p> - <p> - On the sideboards were arranged decanters of whisky, and soda-water in - bottles and syphons. Whether he lost or won, the gambler, triumphant or - despairing, could quaff to his success, or solace his despair. - </p> - <p> - The elderly, youthfully-dressed woman advanced towards the new visitors, - with a beaming expression of countenance. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Spencer, you will join us. What is your favourite game?" - </p> - <p> - "Bridge," said Spencer, shortly. He was already a bit in love with Stella - Keane, but he was by no means favourably inclined to her gushing, elderly - cousin. - </p> - <p> - He soon formed a party of four, and became absorbed, for the moment, in - the game. Tommy Esmond was playing the same game, at a table some distance - from him. Tommy was not supposed to be wealthy, but he evidently had money - enough to indulge in a quiet gamble now and then. - </p> - <p> - He remembered every incident of that night. His partner was a subordinate - member of the Government, and a good sound player, lacking a little - perhaps in the qualities of initiative and rapid decision. His opponents - were a young man in the Foreign Office, and a slender, hawk-nosed young - woman of about thirty. - </p> - <p> - All through he held abominable cards, but, truth to tell, he was not very - interested in the game. Whether he won or lost a hundred pounds did not - interest him very greatly. - </p> - <p> - But what did interest him, to every fibre of his being, was that Stella - Keane hovered about his table. His eyes continually sought hers, and she - did not seem to avoid his glance. At times he was sure he could detect a - slight smile of intimacy. After all, had he not rescued her, half dead - with fright, in the dining-room of the "Excelsior"? - </p> - <p> - Once she bent over him and whispered, her cool, fragrant breath fanning - his cheek: "You are having shocking bad luck. You haven't held a single - decent card." - </p> - <p> - He whispered back: "What did I tell you a little time ago? I flatter - myself I am a fairly good bridge-player, but what could one do with those - cards of mine?" - </p> - <p> - She fluttered away, with still the shadow of that intimate smile upon her - beautiful mouth, the smile that seemed to say they had only known each - other for a few hours, under romantic and dramatic circumstances, but - there was between them an affinity of spirit. - </p> - <p> - He played on steadily for over an hour, and then a halt was cried. The - young gentleman from the Foreign Office and the hawknosed young woman had - scored. Guy Spencer rose from the table, the poorer by a hundred and fifty - pounds. He wrote his cheque with a light heart. A hundred and fifty pounds - was not a great price to pay for the introduction to Stella Keane. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange came impressively towards him. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, Mr. Spencer, I hope you have not lost. If so, I fear you will never - come near me again." His glance roved in the direction of Stella, talking, - as it appeared earnestly, to that bounder of a cousin. There came a steely - look into his clear, resolute eyes. - </p> - <p> - "If you will allow me, I shall be delighted to come here often to see you - and Miss Keane. I suppose I had better pick up my old friend Tommy Esmond, - if he is not too engrossed." But when he approached Esmond, that little - rotund gentleman waved him away, in most genial fashion. - </p> - <p> - "Run away, dear boy. It is Eclipse first, and the rest nowhere. I am - winning hands down." Certainly he bore the mien of a conqueror. And there, - behind his chair, stood Stella Keane. - </p> - <p> - She welcomed Spencer with that faint, intimate smile which had already - stirred his pulses. - </p> - <p> - "I fear I brought you bad luck," she said, in her low, caressing voice. - "But to Mr. Esmond I have been the harbinger of good fortune. Are you - really going?" - </p> - <p> - "I always go when I have won enough, or lost enough. You remember I gave - you a little homily on gambling generally, not so long ago." - </p> - <p> - She took her hand off Esmond's chair. "Well, I will leave my good - influence behind, and look after the parting guest." - </p> - <p> - She walked leisurely with him in the direction of the hall. It was - deserted, but the light was brilliant, as it was in every other corner of - the flat. - </p> - <p> - She held out her hand impulsively. "Mr. Spencer, I have not thanked you - properly for your kindness to me to-night. Terror-stricken, paralysed with - fear, I should have been clinging to that chair now, if you had not - rescued me in time. How can I thank you?" - </p> - <p> - Spencer laughed lightly. "One would think from your excessive gratitude - that you had not experienced a great deal of kindness in your life. And - yet that would be impossible." - </p> - <p> - She flushed a little; his gaze was perhaps more full of admiration, of - frank and open compliment than could be justified by the briefness of - their acquaintance. And yet it only expressed what he was inwardly - thinking. - </p> - <p> - Here was a girl who had only to look at her mirror to learn she was - endowed with singular beauty. She must also know that she combined with - her more than ordinary fairness an unusual charm of manner. - </p> - <p> - How had it come about that one with such striking qualifications should - exhibit a certain underlying sadness, as if the world had already proved a - very disappointing place? Youth and good looks usually secure for their - owner a good time. Girls with half her attractions could find plenty of - admirers. What evil fate dogged her that she had to regard a perfectly - common act of kindness as something to be exceptionally grateful for? - </p> - <p> - "I have never been petted nor spoiled, even as a child," she answered - gravely. "My father and mother were ignorant of the duties, as they were - of the instincts, of parenthood. And since my poor pretence of a home was - broken up, I have been a derelict and a wanderer, sometimes a tolerated - guest, rarely, I fear, a very welcome one in the houses of other people." - </p> - <p> - "But you are happy here, surely?" he suggested. After saying so much, she - could hardly regard the question as an impertinent one. He longed to hear - her history. Well, if he came and cultivated her, and let her see how - sympathetic he could be, one day she would tell him. - </p> - <p> - She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference. - </p> - <p> - "My cousin is peculiar in many ways, and her devotion to play is an - obsession. We have very little in common; still, it would not be fair to - say she was difficult to get on with. I have been with her now for more - than eighteen months, and although we have often held totally different - opinions, I cannot remember that we have ever had a real quarrel. And, - anyway, it is a home and a shelter, and that is something." - </p> - <p> - Not much enthusiasm here, certainly. Mrs. L'Estrange had been dismissed - with a very negative kind of faint praise. Her excellence seemed to lie - rather in the absence of bad qualities than the possession of good ones. - </p> - <p> - And yet, he could not bring himself to believe that Miss Keane was an - ill-natured girl, or of an unresponsive temperament. He had to admit that - his impressions of his hostess were not too favourable. - </p> - <p> - She was outwardly genial, and at times gushing. Yet he fancied he could - read behind this plausible exterior the signs of a hard, worldly nature. - There was no softness in her glance, no tenderness in her rather hard, - staccato tones. - </p> - <p> - A girl with those glorious eyes, and mobile face, with the delicate - complexion that flushed and paled by turns, must surely be sweet and - sympathetic, and responsive to affection. How her voice had thrilled with - emotion when she thanked him. If she was disappointed in her cousin, it - must be the fault of the elder woman, who could not give what was demanded - by the younger and more ardent temperament. - </p> - <p> - He would have lingered longer, trying to pierce the riddle from these - disjointed remarks, but they were interrupted by Tommy Esmond, who came - bustling into the hall, flushed with victory. - </p> - <p> - "Never had such luck in my life. Just wiped the floor with them," he - explained excitedly. "You left your good influence behind, Miss Keane. A - few minutes sufficed for victory." - </p> - <p> - "I am very glad, but I think my powers for good must be very limited, for - I brought bad luck to your friend," was her smiling rejoinder. - </p> - <p> - He turned briskly to the young man. "It is a perfect night, Spencer. Shall - we walk down to the Club to get a breath of fresh air, and turn in there - for a quiet smoke?" - </p> - <p> - Spencer nodded assent, and held out his hand to Miss Keane. - </p> - <p> - "Well, good-bye for the present." - </p> - <p> - "And I hope you will come and see us again soon. Don't wait for Mr. Esmond - to bring you: after our thrilling experiences of tonight, we are more than - ordinary acquaintances. We are at home nearly every night, if you want to - gamble. And, if you would like a little rational chat instead, come in one - afternoon to tea." - </p> - <p> - "Thanks, I will. My card-playing fit has passed for a little time. Once - again, goodbye." - </p> - <p> - And, as soon as they were in the street, Esmond burst in with the question - he was longing to ask. - </p> - <p> - "Well, what do you think of her? Did I exaggerate?" - </p> - <p> - "Not in the least," answered Spencer, speaking less seriously than he - felt, he did not quite know for what reason, unless it was that with a man - of his friend's calibre, he always had a tendency to discuss things - lightly. "No, I don't think you have exaggerated a bit this time; so many - of your swans have been geese, but this is a real swan, at last. She is - very lovely; even in her terror she looked beautiful, and she has a - peculiar, elusive charm. She makes you want to know more of her, and - penetrate the mystery which seems to hover around her.59 - </p> - <p> - "I can't say I see any mystery, myself." Esmond spoke rather sharply, for - such a good-natured little man. - </p> - <p> - "Perhaps it is too strong a word. But I take it, you know something of the - ménage, and can enlighten me on one point. What is her position there: - paid companion, a passing guest, or does she share the flat with her - cousin on some sort of terms?" - </p> - <p> - It was a little time before Esmond answered. "I have never rightly got at - that myself. Sometimes I have thought one thing, sometimes another. But I - am pretty sure she is poor: in fact, she has admitted as much." - </p> - <p> - "Poverty is relative after all, and it depends on how she was brought up. - She seems to dress well, and that cannot be done without money." - </p> - <p> - Yes, Esmond admitted that she was turned out well. But he either could - not, or would not express any positive opinion upon the delicate subject - of Miss Keane's finances. - </p> - <p> - "Does she ever play? She didn't touch a card while we were there, only - flitted about from table to table." - </p> - <p> - No, Esmond had never seen her play since he had frequented the house. It - was clear, therefore, she did not make any pocket-money out of gambling. - He had to admit that she seemed to act as deputy hostess, and, he - believed, wrote most of her cousin's notes; in other words, made herself - useful. - </p> - <p> - All this information, such as it was, he imparted, as it seemed to - Spencer, with some reluctance. Perhaps his keen admiration prompted him to - hide anything that served to show her in a dependent position. And Spencer - desisted from any further crossexamination on this head. - </p> - <p> - On one point, however, he was determined to elicit a positive expression - of opinion from the cautious little man. - </p> - <p> - "What is the mystery of the bounder cousin? You must admit he has cad - stamped all over him, his speech, his person, his gestures." - </p> - <p> - Tommy could establish no defence for the gentleman in question. "No, he is - past criticism, I allow. The result of some <i>mésalliance</i>, I suppose; - his mother a very common person doubtless. But then, many highly - respectable people have skeletons like that in their cupboards." - </p> - <p> - "The mystery is that he finds his way, cousin as he may be, into any - decent house. Mrs. L'Estrange we know to be a woman of good family. You - would think she would lock and bolt the door against a creature like that. - What is he supposed to be, if he has any profession beyond that of his - intense bounderism?" - </p> - <p> - "Something in the City, I am told," replied Esmond shortly. "Something - connected with finance; stockbroker or something." - </p> - <p> - "It must be a shady kind of finance, if he has anything to do with it," - growled the young man. "To think of his claiming relationship with that - exquisite girl." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t would be idle to - assume that a man of Guy Spencer's natural advantages had reached the age - of thirty without experiencing a few affairs of the heart. But he had - never been deeply touched, and his friend Tommy Esmond was right when he - described him as not very susceptible to feminine influence. - </p> - <p> - The one feeling which had lasted for some years, was a pronounced - affection for his cousin Nina. He felt as much at home with her as he - would have done with a favourite sister, had he possessed one. But the - regard had a warmth in it that is lacking in fraternal relations. - </p> - <p> - He knew that Lady Nina was not indifferent to him, that she allowed him to - assume a certain air of proprietorship in the disposal of dances, in the - claim to her society when he was disposed to enjoy it. He knew also that - it was a match which would be warmly approved of by his invalid uncle. - </p> - <p> - Without being guilty of undue vanity, he felt pretty certain that if he - proposed he would be accepted. And once or twice he had been very near to - taking the decisive step. He never could quite understand what it was that - made him hesitate. - </p> - <p> - The fact of his hesitation proved to himself, as well as to the young lady - concerned, that much as he might like his cousin, he was certainly far - from being deeply in love with her. - </p> - <p> - She was a pretty, winsome girl, possessing an upright, straightforward - nature, and quite attractive in a simple, frank fashion. There was nothing - subtle or mysterious about her, you could read her like an open book. She - was a good daughter, she was the type of girl who could not help making a - good wife. - </p> - <p> - Some day, no doubt, he would put the fateful question, and by her - acceptance be made, in conventional parlance, the happiest of men. But - although he would know he had chosen very wisely, and look forward to a - placid kind of happiness, he was doubtful if Nina's smiles and kisses - would ever thrill him, if with her he would ever learn the meaning of real - love. - </p> - <p> - He was not by any means sure that he was capable of very strong - attachment. He had indulged in a few fancies, but they had only exercised - a very small portion of his thoughts. Up to the present, he had certainly - not experienced the wild ecstasies, the mingled joy and pain of the true - lover. - </p> - <p> - For the first time in his life, he had been seriously perturbed by the - advent of Stella Keane. He had not fashioned in his imagination any - particular ideal, any special type of woman who would make to him an - irresistible appeal. But, if she had been Lady Nina, if he had met her in - his own world, he would have owned at once this was the girl for whom he - had been waiting. - </p> - <p> - Her image pursued him persistently in his waking and his leisure hours. He - could recall every word she had spoken during the short time they had - spent together. He could see her a dozen times a day standing in the - "Excelsior" dining-room, paralysed with terror. - </p> - <p> - He remembered the break in her voice, the mist in her beautiful eyes, when - she had thanked him. And ever and again, he longed to fathom the mystery - of her loneliness, the cause of that sadness that was always lurking - underneath. - </p> - <p> - Was it wise to pursue the acquaintance, with the pretty certain result of - intensifying the interest he already felt in her? He had no liking for - Mrs. L'Estrange, a woman merely on the fringe of his world, or her - gambling circle. If he wanted to lose or win money, there were plenty of - other houses where he could indulge his fancy. - </p> - <p> - And he knew nothing of Miss Keane's antecedents. The only thing he did - know was that she had a cousin who was obviously a bounder of the first - water. Tommy Esmond knew nothing about her either, or, if he did know, - would not tell. - </p> - <p> - For three days he wavered, one moment eager to rush off to the flat, the - next determining that it would be better not to renew the brief - acquaintance. - </p> - <p> - On the fourth day, his impulse conquered his prudence. He told himself - soothingly that his visit was due to curiosity, that he merely wanted to - penetrate the mystery of her loneliness, her unprotected position. - </p> - <p> - The bounder cousin was coming out as he entered. Mr. Dutton nodded affably - to him with a greasy and familiar smile. Spencer acknowledged him in the - coolest fashion compatible with bare civility. Why were there people, he - wondered, whom you instinctively wanted to kick, for no apparently - sufficient reason? - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane was alone. Mrs. L'Estrange, she explained, was in bed with a - racking headache. She had lost heavily the night before, and this was the - usual penalty she paid for losing. - </p> - <p> - "Hardly worth the candle, is it?" he said lightly, as he took his cup of - tea from her. A slight frown crossed his brow as he observed the empty cup - of "the bounder" on the table. Did he come here often? was his thought. - Perhaps he was in love with her. But it was surely beyond the limits of - possibility that she could ever return the affection of such a creature. - </p> - <p> - He would see what he could get out of her. "I met your cousin as I came - in. I suppose he is a frequent visitor?" - </p> - <p> - She did not look in the least conscious or embarrassed by the question. - "Oh yes, he comes very often. He is about the only one of my relatives I - have any acquaintance with. My father's mode of life estranged all the - others." - </p> - <p> - Spencer thought it would have been a good thing if Mr. Dutton had been as - sensitive to the disqualifications of the late Mr. Keane as the rest of - her connections. But, of course, he could not say so. - </p> - <p> - "He is not in the least like you." Then, after a pause, he added boldly, - and perhaps a little rudely: "I should never have dreamed you were - related." - </p> - <p> - She quite understood what he meant, and there was a lurking humour in her - smile, as she answered: - </p> - <p> - "Poor old George, he is a good sort, but quite a rough diamond. His mother - married a self-made man, of course, for his money. That may account for a - great deal you have noticed." - </p> - <p> - Spencer had the grace to look confused. It was evident he had conveyed his - private impression of Mr. Dutton very distinctly to her clear young - vision. But she did not seem offended, only slightly amused, at the poor - figure cut by Cousin George in the estimation of a person in a superior - world. - </p> - <p> - Anyway, that little mystery was explained. There was nothing unusual in - poor gentlewomen marrying self-made men, for the sake of money. The noble - family of Southleigh had many such <i>mésalliances</i> amongst its - aristocratic records. - </p> - <p> - But it was a relief to find Stella herself under no delusions concerning - the young man in question. He did not think it possible she could, but as - diplomatically as was possible, she admitted that Mr. Dutton was not what - is, technically called, a gentleman. - </p> - <p> - "He is the only relative with whom I am on speaking terms," she added, - after a pause, "for reasons of which I have already given you a hint. And - I think I have grown rather to look forward to his visits." - </p> - <p> - Her observant eyes noticed a quick stiffening in his manner. She could - guess his thoughts. How was it possible for a refined young woman to ever - look forward to the visits of a person like Mr. Dutton, cousin though he - might be? - </p> - <p> - "You, of course, have heaps of relations; you can pick and choose," she - went on, as if eager to explain to his fastidious taste her toleration of - a man, so obviously the denizen of an inferior world. "You cannot, I - daresay, imagine the loneliness of a girl of my age, debarred, through no - fault of her own, from the society of her own kith and kin." Here was an - opportunity to engage her in personal talk. He had not hoped she would - take him into her confidence on his first visit. - </p> - <p> - He leaned forward, and there was an eager note in his voice. "I formed an - idea of you in the first few moments of our acquaintance, that you were - not happy, that you were, in a sense, isolated, and that you had known - more of sorrow than joy in your short life." - </p> - <p> - She mused a moment, and then answered him in grave tones: - </p> - <p> - "You were quite right. I feel it is the impression I must convey to either - friend or stranger, an impression I shall always convey. For, if a great - and overwhelming happiness were to come to me to-morrow, I could never - forget the past years of sadness." - </p> - <p> - "But, surely, you must have some happy memories? There were gleams of - brightness in your childhood?" - </p> - <p> - "No," she said, and there was a fierce vehemence in her voice. "They were - the most miserable—an indifferent mother, a careless father, a roof - and a shelter, food and clothing sufficient, if not in abundance, but no - home, as it is understood by more fortunate children." - </p> - <p> - "And when that home, or the wretched pretence of it, was broken up, you - were thrown upon the mercy of the world," he questioned, "with no kindred, - no friends to stretch out a helping hand?" - </p> - <p> - "Our relatives had long before ceased to take any interest in the daughter - of a ruined gambler. I was thrown, in a certain sense, on the mercy of the - world. But for a small pittance, which my father could not deprive me of, - I should have starved, for he left nothing behind him but debts." - </p> - <p> - She was not, then, absolutely penniless. Something had been saved from the - wreck. He wondered if Esmond knew this. And yet, if she told a comparative - stranger this at their first real interview, she must have told him, who - seemed to be on the footing of a friend of the house. - </p> - <p> - "I had no real friends," she went on; "but in the course of a wandering - life—when my father owed too much in one place he removed to another—I - had picked up a few acquaintances. With these I made a home, on and off, - for longer or shorter periods." - </p> - <p> - "And you have come to anchor here with Mrs. L'Estrange, who is your - cousin, one of the few relatives who did not visit the sins of the fathers - on the children." - </p> - <p> - Her voice was a little scornful. "The cousinship is a very distant one. - And, as she is an inveterate gambler herself, but more lucky than my - father, she could hardly look upon gambling in another as a deadly sin." - He nodded his head in agreement. He did not want to talk himself, for fear - he should interrupt the flow of her reminiscences; she was evidently in a - confidential mood this afternoon. - </p> - <p> - "I saw her a few times when quite a child, and then she vanished like the - others. A couple of years ago, we met in Devonshire at the house of a - mutual acquaintance. She seemed to take a fancy to me. In the end, she - proposed that I should, for the present, make my home with her. She has - only one interest in life, <i>play</i>. She is a very lazy woman. She - hates writing the briefest note, and housekeeping is abhorrent to her. I - attend to her correspondence, I order the dinner and look after the - servants. I am not exactly eating the bread of charity," she concluded - with a little mirthless laugh, "because I give some work in exchange for - my food. My own little pittance provides me with clothes." - </p> - <p> - He wondered what the little pittance represented in annual hard cash. She - was dressed quietly but in good taste, and he was judge enough of woman's - apparel to know that the material of her dress was expensive. On her - slender fingers glittered a few valuable rings, heirlooms probably saved - from the clutches of the gambling father. She did not convey the - impression of poverty, but perhaps she was clever, and knew how to make - the best of a small income. - </p> - <p> - There was a long silence, and it almost seemed as if she had forgotten his - presence. For she sat with a musing look in her beautiful eyes, her - thoughts evidently in the past, conjuring up Heaven knows how many painful - memories. - </p> - <p> - Then she came back to herself, and turned to him with an apologetic smile. - "I am afraid I have bored you to tears with my stupid personal history, - but I will finish by telling you one little thing that may amuse you." - </p> - <p> - He protested, of course, that he had not been in the least bored, only too - painfully interested. - </p> - <p> - "Well, I am not a person easily crushed, and although a physical coward - and frightened of raids and thunderstorms, I am not a moral one. When I - began to review my position, I tried to hit upon some way of making - money." - </p> - <p> - Was she fond of money, he wondered? Well, perhaps, like most women, she - wanted money to buy herself pretty things. There was nothing unusual in - that. - </p> - <p> - "When I was a schoolgirl, I was supposed to show some artistic talent; I - got several prizes. So I set to work and painted some half-a-dozen small - things, in what I conceived to be a popular style, and took them round to - as many dealers. In a week my hopes were shattered. One straightforward - creature told me frankly that they just attained the school-girl level of - excellence, but that I should never become an artist. It was not in me." - </p> - <p> - "A crushing blow, indeed," said Spencer sympathetically. - </p> - <p> - "I then turned to writing. Here, at any rate, was a profession that - required no previous painful training, only powers of observation, some - imagination, and a certain fluency of expression. I wrote some short - stories which I thought good, which I still think good. History repeated - itself. I sent them to a dozen editors, one after another. In every case, - they were declined with thanks." - </p> - <p> - "I daresay they were quite good, and they were not taken because you - didn't happen to be in the ring," was Spencer's consoling comment. - </p> - <p> - "Well," she exclaimed brightly, "there is an end of my reminiscences for - to-day. Let us talk of anything and everything else. Have you seen Mr. - Esmond lately? He has not been near us since the night he came with you." - </p> - <p> - Shortly afterwards he took his leave, he had stayed unconsciously long as - it was. - </p> - <p> - "I shall come again soon, if I may, to listen to some more reminiscences," - he said, as he shook hands. And she had given him permission, with the - brightest of smiles. - </p> - <p> - He had not learned half as much as he wanted, but he had gathered - something. The bounder cousin was the son of a self-made man, a <i>parvenu</i>. - And Stella Keane was not absolutely penniless, she had enough money to buy - herself clothes. Did Tommy Esmond know as much as this? And if he did, why - had he not said so? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>lthough - unsuspicious by nature, Guy Spencer had mixed much in the world and seen a - good deal of life. Attracted as he was by the charming Stella, there was a - something about the atmosphere of that flat in Elsinore Gardens which - created an unfavourable impression. - </p> - <p> - Of Mrs. L'Estrange's antecedents there was no question. She was a woman of - good family, she could produce chapter and verse for her ancestors. And - yet, why was she not in a better environment? - </p> - <p> - Clearly, she was on the downward slope. But was there anything remarkable - in that? Heaps of members of aristocratic families were in the same sort - of predicament, from various causes, through certain circumstances. - </p> - <p> - Had he not received a letter a few days ago from the daughter of a - well-known earl, imploring him for a loan of ten pounds, for the sake of - old friendship? - </p> - <p> - The writer was some twenty years his senior, and she had tipped him when - he was at Eton. She now dated her letter from a suburb in the extreme west - of Kensington. If she, with all her advantages of birth and connection, - had fallen by the wayside, why not a comparatively obscure person like - Mrs. L'Estrange? - </p> - <p> - It was very easy to see it. Mrs. L'Estrange was of a Bohemian temperament, - and probably a great spendthrift. She had made considerable inroads into - whatever fortune she originally possessed, and had developed into an adept - card-player, with a view to supplementing the little income that was left - to her. - </p> - <p> - And Stella Keane, that beautiful, sad girl, with the tragic history of - worthless parents behind her, was the victim of fate. She was not happy in - her cousin's home, amidst this gambling, card-playing set. She, at least, - was pure, whoever else might be defiled. On that he would stake his - existence. - </p> - <p> - For a few days he thought a great deal about the subject, and during those - few days he kept away from Elsinore Gardens and denied himself the - pleasure of listening to a further instalment of Miss Keane's - reminiscences of her unhappy history. - </p> - <p> - If he were going to fall in love, he told himself sternly, he would fall - in love with a woman of his own world, not with a girl, however beautiful - and interesting she might be, who was only a hanger-on of a woman - well-born, but evidently <i>déclassée</i>, a woman no longer moving in the - sphere to which she had been accustomed. In these reflections, he showed - sound sense. - </p> - <p> - But for a certain event that happened in the course of the next few days, - he might have adhered to his good resolutions and have finally dismissed - Miss Keane from his serious thoughts. And, in that case, this story would - not have been written. - </p> - <p> - And then the event happened. Returning home to his rooms one night, about - twelve o'clock, his man told him that Mr. Esmond was waiting for him in - the sitting-room. - </p> - <p> - He found the little rotund man sitting in an easy-chair, white-faced, the - marks of agitation written all over his countenance. - </p> - <p> - Wondering at this unusual spectacle—Tommy was frequently fussy, but - always self-contained—Spencer advanced, and held out his hand. - </p> - <p> - "What's up, Tommy? You're a late visitor, but always welcome." He pointed - to the decanters standing on the sideboard. "I hope you have helped - yourself?" - </p> - <p> - To Spencer's great surprise, the little man did not take the proffered - hand. He spoke in a hoarse, choking voice, his lips twitching. - </p> - <p> - "I've helped myself once too often, Spencer. And I can't take the hand of - an honest man, for reasons. You've got it at once." - </p> - <p> - Spencer had average brains, but he was not very quick to realise the - meaning of unexpected situations. At first, he thought the little man had - been drinking. - </p> - <p> - "Sit down, Tommy, and get it off your chest. What in the name of wonder is - the matter?" he said kindly. He was rather fond of Tommy in a casual sort - of way. - </p> - <p> - Esmond did not sit down at once, but went over to the sideboard, and mixed - himself a stiff tumbler of whisky-and-soda. He gulped it down at a - draught, and then took an armchair. - </p> - <p> - "You won't begrudge me that, I know," he said, speaking in the same - strained, hoarse voice. "It's the last drink I'll have in your rooms, the - last drink in any house in England, I should say. I'm done for, old man, - tomorrow I clear out, eat my heart away in some beastly foreign hole." - </p> - <p> - No, Spencer's first surmise had been incorrect. The man was not drunk, not - even elevated. His face was chalk-white, and he was trembling all over as - if he had been stricken with palsy. But he was perfectly sober. - </p> - <p> - Spencer took a chair himself, and spoke a little sternly. "Pull yourself - together, old man, and speak out. At first I thought you had had a drop - too much. But I see that's not the case. Out with it. You've been waiting - some time, my man informs me. You want to tell me something. Tell it." - </p> - <p> - Tommy Esmond moistened his dry lips with his tongue, and spoke. - </p> - <p> - "I don't quite know what instinct prompted me to come to you. We haven't - known each other so very intimately, after all, but I always felt you were - a bit more of a Christian than the other chaps I have known, less of a - Pharisee—that you would be more likely to find excuses for a poor - devil who had yielded to temptation." - </p> - <p> - "Do get on," said Spencer a little impatiently. He did not at all like the - turn the conversation was taking. - </p> - <p> - Tommy spoke brokenly, he could not put his words together very coherently, - it appeared. But his halting utterance was simply due to emotion. - </p> - <p> - "I was at Elsinore Gardens to-night, playing cards. You know Elsinore - Gardens, Mrs. L'Estrange's flat?" - </p> - <p> - He was quite sober, but his agitation made him wander a bit, or he would - not have put the question. - </p> - <p> - "Of course I know Mrs. L'Estrange's flat. It was you who took me there," - said Spencer. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, we went there on the night of the raid, but I was not playing at - your table. I remember you lost, and I won. Well, somebody has to lose, - and somebody else has to win." - </p> - <p> - Spencer made no comment on this obvious truism. Tommy Esmond again - moistened his dry lips with his tongue. He was a long time in coming to - the point, but he came to it at last. - </p> - <p> - "Well, old man, I was playing with an old pal of mine, with whom I have - been in business for years. We had a nice code of signals arranged. I was - as cautious as I could be, but my partner had been dining out, and he was - a bit indiscreet. There were three or four men watching us, they caught us - both, although, as I tell you, I was cautious. But I made one slip, and - they were down on me like a knife. You don't know my partner. It is the - end of him. But it is the end of Tommy Esmond also." - </p> - <p> - To say that Spencer was disgusted would be to convey a faint idea of his - feelings. And yet, as he looked at the huddled, trembling form in the - chair, his sentiment was rather one of compassion than loathing. what was - there behind? what tragedy of circumstance had driven this apparently - lighthearted, butterfly little creature to such crooked ways? - </p> - <p> - "You're an old hand, then? It's not the first time you've cheated?" - </p> - <p> - Tommy Esmond smiled wanly. He did not answer the question at once. - </p> - <p> - "What age do you guess me, Spencer?" - </p> - <p> - "At a casual glance, a little over fifty. You may be older. Looking at you - closely, you do seem a bit made up, dye and all that sort of thing." - </p> - <p> - "My dear sir, I am old enough to be your father. I shall never see sixty - again." - </p> - <p> - "And when did you take to this game?" Esmond thought a little before he - replied, he was evidently counting the years. - </p> - <p> - "When I was twenty-two I got an <i>entrée</i> into society. I was then - enjoying an income of two pounds a week, I was a clerk in an insurance - office. At twenty-four I left the insurance business and started cheating - for a living." - </p> - <p> - Spencer uttered a horrified ejaculation. He had never come across anything - quite like this, at any rate, in actual experience. - </p> - <p> - "Would you like to know something of my history, or would you like to kick - me out at once, and have done with it?" asked Esmond quietly. - </p> - <p> - But there were still some remnants of compassion in Spencer. And he was - also a little curious. He was dealing, after all, with a human document. - Tommy's revelations would add to his experience of life. - </p> - <p> - "Tell me all you would like to say," he said. - </p> - <p> - "It will be a relief to unbosom myself, after the years I have led this - life," was Esmond's answer. "When I left Elsinore Gardens with my life in - ruins, I felt I could have shrieked it all out to the policeman standing - at the corner. I came on here, because I thought you would listen to me, - because I felt sure you were not a Pharisee." - </p> - <p> - Spencer motioned him to the sideboard. "Mix yourself another stiff peg, - and steady your nerves. Then tell me as much as you like." - </p> - <p> - Esmond went over and helped himself. After a few seconds the ague-like - trembling ceased, and he was able to speak in a fairly steady voice. - </p> - <p> - "My father was a solicitor in a small way of business in an obscure town - in the west of England. There were three children—an elder brother, - myself, and a sister. My elder brother succeeded to the practice and is - still in the same place, making both ends meet on a microscopic income. My - sister is dead. - </p> - <p> - "My father was a God-fearing, deeply religious man, and did more than his - duty by his family. He scraped and pinched to give us a good education, - that being the only capital he could leave us. I was placed in an - insurance office, the head of which was a distant connection of my - mother's. - </p> - <p> - "If I had chosen to be content with my lot I daresay in time I might have - done fairly well, as I had more than average abilities, and gave complete - satisfaction in the performance of my duties. - </p> - <p> - "Unfortunately, I ran across, by the purest accident, a young man some - couple of years my senior. His father, a man of very good family, had died - a short time previously and left him a very decent income of about two - thousand a year. He had been at a private school with me when we were - boys. - </p> - <p> - "This young man took a violent fancy to me, I was slim and not bad looking - in those days. He had the <i>entrée</i> to some of the best houses in - London through his aristocratic connections. He took me with him - everywhere, as his bosom friend. I had certain social instincts, derived - from Heaven knows where, and I soon found my feet. In twelve months I was - able to run alone, sometimes I was able to get into houses where even he - could not gain a footing. He laughingly declared that I had beaten him in - the social race, but he was a good-natured fellow, without a particle of - envy or meanness in his nature, and he was rather proud than otherwise - that the pupil had outstripped the master." - </p> - <p> - He paused for a moment. It was evident, that having kept silence for so - many years, it was an enormous relief to unbosom himself. - </p> - <p> - In spite of his disgust, Spencer could not but feel interested in this bit - of life-history. He had often felt curious as to Tommy Esmond's past, and - now that curiosity was going to be satisfied. He understood now why the - little man had never made any but the most distant allusions to his home - or his relatives. - </p> - <p> - "The life suited me down to the ground, but there was always the terrible - problem of ways and means, good clothes, travelling, expensive flowers, - etc., etc. I had got to three pounds a week, but that doesn't go far in - the circles to which I had been transplanted. It began to dawn upon me - that, delightful as the life was, I was playing the fool, and neglecting - the substance for the shadow. People asked me to their big parties, often - to their dinners and to week-ends, but there was no money in it. In fact, - I was getting out of my depth. I had already been obliged to borrow small - sums from money-lenders to cover my expenses. - </p> - <p> - "Bitterly I made up my mind that sooner or later I must cut it, and take - life seriously, like the poor man I was. I belonged to a good club where I - had all my letters addressed. I lodged in a little street in Bloomsbury, - in cheap apartments. My friend alone knew this address. - </p> - <p> - "He would have helped me to a considerable extent, but, strange to say, - considering what I did afterwards, I shrank from accepting actual cash - from him." - </p> - <p> - Spencer interrupted him for a second. "You would not sponge upon your - friend, instead you took to cheating your acquaintance. I take it that is - what you are going to tell me." - </p> - <p> - Esmond nodded. "Quite right. I had made up my mind to cut it, and - disappear from a world in which I had no right to intrude. I had even made - up my mind as to the exact date at the close of the season when I would - disappear, and return to the humdrum life from which my friend roused me. - </p> - <p> - "A few days before that date, something very strange happened; my life has - always been full of surprises. A few weeks before the fixed date, I had - made the acquaintance of a young nobleman, a member of one of the - best-known families in England. He was then about thirty, very handsome, - very popular with both men and women. He is dead now, but, of course, I - shall not mention his name, which would startle you if you heard it. - </p> - <p> - "As I have said, his family was a very distinguished one, but poor for its - position. My friend, whom for the sake of convenience I will call Lord - Frederick, lived in good style, never seemed short of cash, and paid his - debts promptly. Those who knew were sure that he got little or no help - from his family, yet he betted at race-meetings, played cards nearly every - night, and lived generally the life of a man with a fair income. - </p> - <p> - "His own explanation was, that he had some intimate friends on the Stock - Exchange who put him on to any good thing going. In the course of the - year, according to his own account, he made a considerable sum out of - racing. - </p> - <p> - "Lord Frederick, like my first friend, took considerable notice of me - after we had become acquainted. Several times he invited me to his club. - Afterwards he told me that he had a premonition I should be useful to him. - </p> - <p> - "I shall never forget that night when the deadly temptation came to me, - when I learned what manner of rascal he was. It was the close of the - season. In a very few days more I should have looked my last on this gay - and alluring existence, should have ceased to lead this double life of a - poor clerk by day, a young man of fashion by night." - </p> - <p> - Spencer suddenly interrupted. "But was there not a great risk of - detection? were you never recognised in the City by some chance west End - acquaintance." - </p> - <p> - "Up to then, no. Of course, I must have been found out in time, if only - from the suspicious circumstance that I could never accept any day - invitations. This was one of the reasons that weighed most strongly with - me in the resolve to give it up. I could not bear the thought that the - Tommy Esmond who bore himself so bravely in his new world, who had managed - to outlive all curiosity as to his antecedents, should be discovered in - his true colours, a poor City drudge in an insurance office. - </p> - <p> - "To return to my story. I had dined with Lord Frederick at the—— - No, I will not give the name of the club, one of the most exclusive in - London: it might put you on his track. He had ordered a choice dinner, and - he plied me liberally with wine. My heart was very full at the prospect of - having to say good-bye to this luxurious life, in a very few days' time. - </p> - <p> - "After dinner we went into the smoking-room, which was nearly empty, as - most of the members had left London. There were only two other occupants, - and they were at the far end of the apartment. Practically, we had the - place to ourselves. - </p> - <p> - "He urged me strongly to take a trip over to Paris as his guest. I should - have loved to go, but the wrench had to be made some time, it might as - well be made now. Besides, I was heavily in debt, for a poor man, and I - had not the cash to purchase the necessary outfit for such a trip. - </p> - <p> - "He would not accept my first refusal, but tried to persuade me into - reconsidering. When I still persisted, he bluntly asked me my reasons. - </p> - <p> - "As I have said, I was very depressed that night at the prospect of all I - was saying goodbye to. This mood was responsible for my blurting out a - great portion of the absolute truth. - </p> - <p> - "I explained to him that I had already accepted too much of his - hospitality, which my circumstances did not enable me to return, that I - could no longer take advantage of his generosity. - </p> - <p> - "After this avowal, he did not speak for some little time, all the while - regarding me with an intense gaze that embarrassed me very much. - </p> - <p> - "'Thanks for telling me the truth,' he said at length. 'Your confidence is - quite safe with me.' He added after a pause, 'So you are a poor man, in - spite of the fact that your appearance does not suggest the fact. well, I - may tell you that from the first moment I made your acquaintance I was - pretty certain you were.' - </p> - <p> - "I told him a little more. 'I am so poor,' I said frankly, 'that I cannot - afford to keep up appearances any longer. In a few days I shall leave a - world I ought never to have entered. Anyway, it is the last time I shall - dine with you, and I don't suppose we shall ever meet again, unless we run - across each other by chance in a very different sphere.'" - </p> - <p> - "'You have absolutely made up your mind to do this, for the reasons you - have given?' he asked presently. - </p> - <p> - "'Absolutely,' I replied. 'I may say it is Hobson's choice. I am heavily - in debt. If I cut my wants down to next to nothing, it will take me a year - to pay off what I owe.' I laughed bitterly—'Unless I turned thief, I - could not possibly go on.' - </p> - <p> - "'I don't want to force your confidence,' was Lord Frederick's next - remark. 'But having had a taste of this rather glittering world, I presume - you will leave it with considerable regret.' - </p> - <p> - "'I dare not say what I feel,' I said with conviction. 'It seems to me - that in the old life to which I am returning I shall suffer the tortures - of lost souls.' - </p> - <p> - "Then he shot at me an extraordinary question. 'I wonder whether you would - care to become a partner in my business?' - </p> - <p> - "My heart suddenly grew light. Was there a chance that I could still keep - on, that through his assistance I could find a decently paid occupation? - After all, I only wanted a few hundreds a year more. A bachelor can live - in the best society on comparatively little, but he must have that little, - and the insurance office did not furnish it. - </p> - <p> - "'If I were competent enough,' I faltered. - </p> - <p> - "He smiled; I thought there was a little touch of a sneer in that smile. - 'Oh, I think you would be competent enough. But I am not at all sure that - you would like the business sufficiently.' - </p> - <p> - "'I can't say positively, of course, till I know the nature of it. But I - don't think I should be very difficult to please, nor do I want any - extravagant remuneration, just enough to keep up a decent appearance.' - </p> - <p> - "'The share would be half, neither more nor less,' he said curtly; then he - relapsed into a long silence, as if he were thinking very hard. - </p> - <p> - "When he spoke it was in a low, strained voice. 'Look here, Esmond, I - don't know very much of you. But I believe you to be a gentleman. The - business I am engaged in is a very peculiar one, and it is more than - probable it will not appeal to you. If you refuse, you are to give me your - word of honour that this conversation between us shall be forgotten.' - </p> - <p> - "I gave him more than my word, I added my solemn oath that I would never - divulge a syllable. - </p> - <p> - "I had for some little time felt that there was a mystery about him. I - hazarded to myself that he was perhaps engaged in some spying work - repugnant to any man of fine susceptibilities but quite remunerative. - </p> - <p> - "I was startled, and to an extent horrified, by what he told me. He was a - professional card-sharper, made his living by robbing his rich - acquaintances. He had been at the game since he was twenty-five. - </p> - <p> - "'I do pretty well, as you can guess, by the way in which I live,' he - remarked at the conclusion of his strange confession. 'But with a smart - confederate, and I am sure you would prove one, I could quadruple my - gains. One is hampered by working alone. It's a scoundrel's business, of - course. But I can always persuade myself I am not really doing very much - harm, certainly not as much as the swindling sort of company-promoter. I - win money from rich fools, rob them, if you like; it does at least as much - good in my pockets as theirs.' - </p> - <p> - "I suppose there was already some moral kink in me waiting to blossom - forth under proper encouragement. For though I was very much startled, I - cannot say that I was profoundly shocked, as I might have been by a less - subtle form of robbery. - </p> - <p> - "I did not accept or refuse that night, I wanted to think. I knew it was - the turning of the ways. On the one hand well-paid roguery, with the - accompanying delights of the fashionable world, on the other the deadly, - drab life of the poor City drudge. In the morning my mind was made up. I - went into partnership with my new friend." - </p> - <p> - "And you made a fortune, I suppose?" asked Spencer, in a very cold voice. - </p> - <p> - Esmond shook his head, and Spencer was not at all sure that the next words - were truthful ones. - </p> - <p> - "No, a comfortable living, nothing more. We made a good deal, but we had - to lose a good deal, too, in order to avert suspicion." - </p> - <p> - "Your friend is dead, you say. So you went on with it after his death?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, for a little time alone. Then I, too, got in a partner, the man who - was with me to-night." - </p> - <p> - There was a long silence between the two men. Spencer broke it first. - </p> - <p> - "And what are your plans?" he asked. - </p> - <p> - "I shall sneak out of the country to-morrow morning and make my way to - France. I shall hide myself in some little out-of-the-way village under an - assumed name, and rust out." The little man rose and looked at his former - friend with an embarrassed air. "Well, thanks for having listened to me so - patiently. It has been a tremendous relief to me to pour it all out." - </p> - <p> - He did not offer his hand, for he felt certain it would not be taken. - Spencer stopped him as he was at the door. - </p> - <p> - "You have money, I suppose, something put by out of your—your - winnings?" - </p> - <p> - Esmond's voice was hesitating. Again it was very doubtful if he was - speaking the truth. "Hardly a <i>sou</i> out of them. It was lightly come, - lightly go, all the time. But my father left me a little bit which will - keep me going in a cheap place." - </p> - <p> - Spencer did not believe him. The probability was he had put away safely a - snug little nest-egg, in view of the detection which might come at any - moment of such a hazardous occupation. - </p> - <p> - "One word before you go," said the young man finally. "Is there much - cheating going on at Elsinore Gardens?" - </p> - <p> - Esmond turned and looked the speaker straight in the face. This time he - certainly seemed to be speaking the truth, but he might be a most - accomplished liar. - </p> - <p> - "None at all, except when I and my partner were there. If there had been, - I should have spotted it. I'm awfully sorry for Mrs. L'Estrange, for it - having happened at her house, for I daresay people will hint nasty - things." - </p> - <p> - "She didn't suspect anything, then?" - </p> - <p> - "Not a bit," replied Esmond. "We didn't play there more than about twice a - week, and we never went in for high stakes. And, of course, we had to lose - pretty often, to make things look square." - </p> - <p> - "And Miss Keane suspected nothing either." As he remembered the girl's - beautiful face, and sad history, Spencer felt almost ashamed of himself - for putting the question. - </p> - <p> - "Bless your soul, no, a thousand times no." The little rogue seemed to - speak with unusual warmth. "Why, she loathes cards, she never can be got - to join in. She has suffered too much from gambling." - </p> - <p> - He went out of the room slowly and into the night. Spencer half pitied the - poor devil who had made such a hash of his life through his desire to step - out of his own class. He sat down and ruminated a long time over the - strange history which had been unfolded to him. - </p> - <p> - The next morning, the fugitive, Tommy Esmond, caught the morning train - from Charing Cross. He looked very sad and woebegone, a pitiable figure, - friendless and alone. - </p> - <p> - But not quite friendless. A young woman closely-veiled and dressed very - plainly rose up from one of the seats as he came on the platform, and - touched him lightly on the arm. He recognised her, and glanced round - anxiously. - </p> - <p> - "It was very dear and sweet of you to come, Stella, but very imprudent. - You might be seen by half a dozen people." - </p> - <p> - "I know," answered Miss Keane, for the closely-veiled woman was she. "I - got your letter this morning and could not bear you should go without a - last good-bye. Well, I can see you are anxious. I will say it, and get - back." - </p> - <p> - She lifted the veil for a second, and held up her face. The little man - kissed her hastily, and then made for his train. - </p> - <p> - It was evident he had one friend left in the London he was flying from as - a fugitive and outlaw, one woman who pitied him. - </p> - <p> - And, at the same time that Stella was walking swiftly from the station, - Guy Spencer was making up his mind that he would pay a visit to Elsinore - Gardens in the afternoon, to see how the land lay there. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>bout five o'clock - on the afternoon of the day following Esmond's confession, Guy Spencer - rang the bell at Mrs. L'Estrange's flat in Elsinore Gardens. - </p> - <p> - The decorous-looking butler opened the door. He seemed to wear a sad and - chastened demeanour, as if overborne with the tragic events of the - previous night. Of course, all servants know what is going on in the house - of their employers. A scandal such as this must have quickly penetrated to - them. - </p> - <p> - "Is Mrs. L'Estrange at home?" - </p> - <p> - The sad-faced butler answered at once; he could tell a lie with as much - grace as anybody, but here there was no need to lie. - </p> - <p> - "Mrs. L'Estrange is at home, sir, in a manner of speaking, but she is very - ill, as a matter of fact in bed. Of course she cannot see any visitors." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, I quite understand," said Spencer hastily. "Is Miss Keane in? If so, - I would like to see her for a few moments." - </p> - <p> - The melancholy man in black opened the door a few inches. "Miss Keane is - in, sir, but I am afraid she is not very well, either. Will you kindly - step in, sir, and I will find out if she can see you?" - </p> - <p> - It was evident that Tommy Esmond and his equally nefarious partner had - cast a gloom over the whole establishment. Spencer was ushered into the - pretty drawing-room. In a few moments, Stella Keane came in. She was - evidently under the stress of great emotion. There were dark shadows round - the eyes, as if she had passed a sleepless night. Even her perfect mouth - had a listless droop. - </p> - <p> - But, in spite of her pallor, the dark shadows round her eyes, and that - pathetic droop, she was still very beautiful. Pathos became her. Guy - Spencer's heart gave a great leap as he saw her. There was about her an - overpowering, an irresistible fascination. - </p> - <p> - She advanced towards him with outstretched hands. She spoke in a broken - voice, the perfectly moulded lips trembled: - </p> - <p> - "It is so sweet of you to come. Of course you have heard? It is all over - the town by now. Oh, this thrice-accursed gambling, the love of which - induces decent men to cheat, and become outcasts from their world." - </p> - <p> - She spoke with the deepest emotion, her bosom heaving, her voice broken by - the catchings of the breath. - </p> - <p> - "He was such a good little man, he was always so kind to me," she went on. - "And last night those awful happenings. Branded a cheat, he and his - friend, and they could not deny it. They had to slink out. I have hardly - closed my eyes during the night, Mr. Spencer; my poor cousin is - prostrated." She added with a shudder: "My girlhood was passed amidst a - gambling set, but I never had an experience like this." - </p> - <p> - She collected herself, and rang for tea. "You will sit down," she said. - "You can understand I should have denied myself to anybody but you, I am - so terribly upset. It is still like a nightmare." - </p> - <p> - Spencer sat down as he was bidden. "I had a visit from Esmond last night," - he said briefly. "He came straight on from Elsinore Gardens. He told me - what had happened, he told me the whole history of the terrible thing, how - he has been making his living by cheating at cards, since he was a young - man." Miss Keane raised her hands in mute deprecation. "How awful! That, - of course, I did not know. I had a letter from him this morning, - apologising, if one can apologise for such a thing, telling me he was - going to live abroad under an assumed name. It was a very short letter. - His chief concern seemed to be that he had, incidentally, made it - unpleasant for Mrs. L'Estrange." - </p> - <p> - "How does Mrs. L'Estrange take it?" - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane shrugged her shoulders. "She is a little bit hysterical, you - know. One moment, she vows she will shut up the flat and go abroad, for - fear of the nasty things that people will say. The next moment, she says - that, confident in her perfect innocence, she will stay and face the - music, and give her parties as usual." - </p> - <p> - "Has she asked your advice?" queried Spencer. - </p> - <p> - "She has, and my advice is to go on as usual. It is not her fault that - blacklegs have crept into her circle. They creep into the best houses, the - best clubs. So long as this curséd gambling goes on, there will be - sharpers." - </p> - <p> - "That's true," remarked Spencer, remembering a few episodes that had - occurred in his time. "And, I suppose, you will still cast in your lot - with her?" - </p> - <p> - The look on the beautiful face grew more pathetic than ever. - </p> - <p> - "What can I do, Mr. Spencer? I have told you my position. I wish my cousin - were a different woman altogether, I wish she were not so infatuated with - this horrible gambling. But I cannot influence her. She is too old and set - to turn over a new leaf." - </p> - <p> - Every moment the girl's fascination took a deeper hold of him. She was so - very beautiful, so very seductive. But he still kept himself in check. - </p> - <p> - "Tell me what actually happened last night. How were Esmond and his - partner found out?" - </p> - <p> - There was a little interruption by the solemn-faced butler who brought in - tea. Miss Keane busied herself amongst the cups before she replied. - </p> - <p> - "It is, as I told you, all a nightmare to me. I was wandering aimlessly - about; as I have told you before, I never play, I loathe cards too much. - Suddenly there was a scene at the table where Mr. Esmond and his partner - were playing. Three men were standing watching the game, they had come - here often, I knew their names." - </p> - <p> - "They were friends of Mrs. L'Estrange?" queried Spencer. - </p> - <p> - Just a faint shade of hesitation crept into the low voice. - </p> - <p> - "Oh yes, friends of my cousin." - </p> - <p> - "Straight sort of chaps, of course." - </p> - <p> - "I have no doubt of that. They accused Mr. Esmond and his partner, Major - Golightly, of cheating. Of course the charge was denied, but very - half-heartedly. These three men were backed by others who had seen - something suspicious. It seems Mr. Esmond and his partner had aroused - suspicion before. Finally they confessed, and slunk out of the house." - </p> - <p> - She paused a moment, and then laid her hand impulsively on his arm. - </p> - <p> - "That first night you came to our house, you lost. Did you play at the - same table with Tommy Esmond? I forget." - </p> - <p> - The answer came straight. "No, I lost something, what was it?—something - about a hundred and fifty. But Tommy Esmond did not rook me that time, he - was playing at another table. I remember he was very cock-a-hoop, he was - winning hand over fist. I say, I know I am putting a very impertinent - question, but were Tommy Esmond and his partner, this Major Golightly, the - only sharpers who came to this flat? Did I lose my hundred and fifty, or - whatever it was, quite honestly?" - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane covered her face with her hands for a few seconds, and when she - took them away, he could see that tears were slowly trickling down her - cheeks. - </p> - <p> - "Heaven knows, Mr. Spencer, I don't. My cousin is a strange woman. She is - fond of gaiety, of excitement. She asks people about whom she knows - nothing to her flat, I think," she added with an hysterical laugh; "she - fancies she is making herself a queen of Society. If she can get her rooms - full that is all she wants. When she does that, she fancies herself the - Duchess." - </p> - <p> - "I think I understand," said Spencer gravely. "And I take it you would - give heaven and earth to get out of this environment?" - </p> - <p> - "If you only knew how I loathe it," she cried, in a fervent tone. - "Sometimes I think I would rather run away and be a shopgirl or a - waitress, to get rid of this horrible atmosphere." - </p> - <p> - Guy Spencer was very perturbed. He rose and walked up and down the room—it - was his habit to walk about, even in confined spaces, when he was in an - emotional mood. - </p> - <p> - At length he turned, and faced her squarely. "Look here, Miss Keane. It's - rather nonsense talking about being a waitress or a shop-girl. You told me - you had a small income saved from the wreck. How much is it? I am asking - in no spirit of impertinent curiosity. I have a reason for asking." - </p> - <p> - She hesitated for a moment before she replied: "Something like a hundred a - year—paid to me quarterly by my cousin, Mr. Dutton, who is my - trustee." - </p> - <p> - "Then you are not exactly a pauper. Shopgirls and waitresses don't earn - that." - </p> - <p> - "But it would help," said Miss Keane, in a stifled voice. "A hundred a - year does not go far; with clothes and everything." - </p> - <p> - He longed to take her in his arms there and then and ask her to be his - wife, so far was he subjugated by her subtle fascination. But certain - things occurred to him. He thought of his old ancestry, his uncle whose - heir he would be, even a faint idea of his cousin Nina flashed through his - mind. What would his relatives say to a marriage like that, the marriage - with a girl, however beautiful, picked up in a flat, owned by a woman of - good family but doubtful reputation? - </p> - <p> - But he could not afford to lose her. He was rich, he could indulge any - passing whim. Out of his new-born ideas he spoke. - </p> - <p> - "Miss Keane, I am very interested in you. Will you agree to look upon me - as a friend?" - </p> - <p> - She looked up at him from under downcast eyes. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Spencer, somehow I have always looked upon you as a friend, as - something different from the ordinary man I meet in a place like this." - </p> - <p> - "You want to get out of this atmosphere, away from your card-playing - cousin, who cannot keep her parties free from disgraceful scandals." - </p> - <p> - "I have told you how fervently I long to say good-bye to it all." - </p> - <p> - Spencer had made up his mind as to what he was going to do. It was - quixotic, but then he was a quixotic person. And, anyway, he was marking - time. He would ask her to marry him in the end, but, at the moment, he did - not clearly see his way to do so. - </p> - <p> - "Suppose a woman friend offered to lend you five hundred pounds, to enable - you to get clear of this stifling atmosphere, what would you say? You - could go and live where you like and look around." - </p> - <p> - "If a woman friend asked me that I think I should say, yes." - </p> - <p> - "You have agreed that I am your friend, true, a man friend," said Guy. - "Suppose I made you the same offer, what is your answer?" - </p> - <p> - "From a man friend I fear my answer must be an unhesitating 'no,' even to - you." - </p> - <p> - He admired her answer. He could gather from it that she respected herself - too much to snatch at any offer that came along. - </p> - <p> - But he would play with her still. "Why?" he asked. - </p> - <p> - The beautiful eyes, still a little clouded with her tears, met his - unfalteringly. - </p> - <p> - "You know as well as I do," was her answer. "I am poor, Mr. Spencer, but I - am very proud." - </p> - <p> - He sat down beside her, and took her hand in his. - </p> - <p> - "I admire you for that answer, Stella. I may call you Stella, may I not? - But I am not quite the ordinary type of man. I am going to speak quite - plainly to you. If you accept that five hundred pounds, I am not going to - ask you for any return. I want you to understand that." - </p> - <p> - She shot at him a swift glance from under the downcast eyes. - </p> - <p> - "You are a man out of a thousand, nay, out of ten thousand," she said, and - in her voice there was a note of great appreciation. If Stella Keane ever - felt a good impulse in her life, it was towards this man who was doing his - best to befriend her. - </p> - <p> - "Listen to me," said Spencer persuasively, her delicate hand still lying - in his. "I don't know that I have done much good to other people in my - life, but I do want to help you. I should like to get you out of this - beastly hole. My proposal is, that I shall take for you a little furnished - flat and supplement your income, or give you the five hundred pounds down, - to do what you like with. It is for you to choose." - </p> - <p> - "You would do this for me?" said Stella softly. "You must really like me, - then! Men don't do this sort of thing for women unless they like them." - </p> - <p> - "I like you very much, Stella, and I want to help you." - </p> - <p> - He knew that he could take her in his arms and kiss her at his will. But - he forebore. He was not going to spoil this somewhat idyllic wooing. - </p> - <p> - "It cannot take place for a week or so," she said presently. "I cannot - quite leave my cousin in the lurch. I must give her some sort of notice. - Of course, I can make the excuse that the events of last night have - completely shattered my nerve." - </p> - <p> - "I don't wonder," was Spencer's comment. "Now, about this little matter we - have been speaking of. I think it would be better if I paid this money - into your bank, and left you to make your own arrangements. I suppose you - have a bank?" - </p> - <p> - Yes, Miss Keane had a banking-account, a very small one. She smilingly - remarked that it would give the manager a shock when such a large sum was - paid into it. - </p> - <p> - "I will draw the money in cash to-morrow and bring it to you," said - Spencer. "Then nobody will be able to guess from whom it comes." - </p> - <p> - He rose, he could not trust himself to stay very much longer. At any - moment his reserve might break down. He might be impelled to change the - rôle of the benevolent friend into that of the ardent lover. - </p> - <p> - And for a long time after he had left, Stella Keane sat absorbed in the - most serious thoughts. - </p> - <p> - There was no doubt he was ardently in love with her. But he was not yet - quite prepared to screw up his courage to the sticking place. - </p> - <p> - It was easy to understand. The obligations he owed his family were - weighing on his mind. - </p> - <p> - The woman he made his wife would one day be the Countess of Southleigh. He - had to think of all this. And all he knew about her was learned from her - own statement, and she had a cousin who was, from his point of view, - certainly not a gentleman. - </p> - <p> - Above all things, Stella Keane was a very business-like young woman, and - never shrank from looking facts squarely in the face. She must play a - waiting game. Guy Spencer was very deeply in love, but he was not a - hotheaded, impetuous boy, the sort of amorous youth who runs off with a - chorus girl, regardless of consequences. Lovers of this kind were very - rarely met with. - </p> - <p> - If Guy Spencer did marry her, and she could not at the moment be sure he - would, he would be fully conscious of the disadvantages to himself - entailed by such a marriage. Would her fascination be strong enough to - conquer his better judgment? - </p> - <p> - At any rate, for the present he was prepared to advance her five hundred - pounds, and ask nothing but her friendship in return. It was an offer that - she would have been a fool to refuse. - </p> - <p> - Presently she rose and went up to Mrs. L'Estrange's bedroom. That sorely - perturbed lady had risen, flung on a dressing-gown, and was reclining on a - sofa. - </p> - <p> - "I can't sleep, I only fidget and fidget about," was the explanation. "So - I thought I might as well get up." - </p> - <p> - "Very wise," said Stella calmly. "You're a little bit too hysterical, you - know. You should keep your nerves in order as I do mine." - </p> - <p> - "Not always," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "They go to pieces in - thunderstorms and air raids, don't they?" - </p> - <p> - "The exception proves the rule, my dear lady. Well, I haven't come up here - to indulge in a sparring match. I have some very great news for you. Mr. - Spencer called this afternoon; he hasn't left me very long." - </p> - <p> - The elder woman became interested at once. "You don't mean to say he has - asked you to marry him?" - </p> - <p> - Stella laughed. "No, he hasn't, although it will not be my fault if he - doesn't later on. It seems Tommy Esmond called on him last night, and made - a clean breast of his whole history." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange frowned. "Then I think he was a great fool. Everybody, of - course, will know what actually happened, that he was discovered cheating. - But he need not go and tell him more than he would learn from general - rumour.'" - </p> - <p> - Stella's face hardened a little. "You must make some allowances for him. - He must have been in a terrible state of tension when he felt that his - career was ended. He was so very proud, you know, of the position in - society that he had won for himself. He must have felt like a man on the - eve of execution. He was hardly responsible for his thoughts or actions. - He is very highly-strung." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange spoke more gently. "Yes, of course. I am sorry I said - that, my dear. And after all, it doesn't make any difference how much he - told or how little. The result to him is the same. And now for your great - news, what are they? You say Spencer has not asked you to marry him." - </p> - <p> - Stella told her of Guy's suggestion, and her acceptance of it. "It is too - good a chance to refuse. So, my dear, I shall have to leave you at the - earliest possible moment." - </p> - <p> - It was some time before the elder woman seemed quite able to grasp it. - when she did, her astonishment seemed unbounded. - </p> - <p> - "Of all the strange things I have ever heard," she began, but Stella cut - her short with a little mocking laugh. - </p> - <p> - "Not quite so strange when you think it quietly out," she said. "If he - really knew anything about me, if I could produce a few respectable - relatives, if I had some of your blue blood in my veins, he would have - proposed this afternoon." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange nodded her rather dishevelled head. "I think I see." - </p> - <p> - "He is very much in love with me," went on Stella quietly. "Anyway, so - much so that he doesn't want to lose sight of me, while he is making up - his mind. Hence his offer." - </p> - <p> - "But he could see you here." - </p> - <p> - Stella shook her head. "He would loathe this house after what occurred - last night, and he thinks I am in an unholy set. He really is an awful - dear, you know, so high-minded and upright. His great aim is to get me - away from the environment." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange settled herself comfortably amongst her sofa cushions. She - was an excitable and fussy person about trifles, but she took the great - things of life with a calm and equal mind. - </p> - <p> - "Well, my dear, go as soon as it suits yourself. You have been a good pal - to me, and I shall be sorry to lose you. But if you have got a decent - chance you would be a fool not to take it." - </p> - <p> - Miss Keane was strongly of the same opinion. Anyway she was glad the - interview was over, that Mrs. L'Estrange had taken everything in such good - part. She might have turned nasty if the mood had seized her. - </p> - <p> - Later on, Miss Keane wrote a long letter to Tommy Esmond to an address - which he had communicated to her in his note of the morning. - </p> - <p> - The same evening, she held a long conversation with her cousin and - trustee, Mr. Dutton, who came to Elsinore Gardens in obedience to an - urgent summons on the telephone. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ady Nina Spencer - sat in the drawing-room of the big house in Carlton House Terrace, - awaiting the few guests who had been invited to a small, informal - dinner-party. Her father, very infirm for his years, sat opposite to her - in a big easy-chair. - </p> - <p> - The Earl spoke in his low, quavering voice: "I have nothing to say against - the woman herself, judging from what little we have seen of her. She has - very perfect manners, just a trifle too perfect. I can quite understand - that for the average man she possesses considerable charm, and she has - great good looks. Many people would call her beautiful. But I can only - repeat what I said on the day I received Guy's letter announcing his - clandestine marriage: 'The pity of it.'" - </p> - <p> - Lady Nina was a quiet, robust and practical young person, fond of looking - facts in the face, and looking at them very squarely. - </p> - <p> - She had been as much shocked at her cousin's rash marriage as the Earl - himself, but it was an accomplished fact. Only two courses were open: the - first to have nothing more to do with Guy and his wife, the second to - admit the wife to a guarded intimacy. - </p> - <p> - Lord Southleigh had declared warmly, in his first disgust, that he would - never look upon his young kinsman's face again. But Nina had prevailed - with milder counsels. Guy was his heir, and in the course of Nature would - succeed to the family honours. They would not cut themselves adrift from - him, and they must make up their minds to tolerate this wife, of whose - antecedents he could give no satisfactory account. The one fact he did - mention, that she was a cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, did not weigh much with - them. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. L'Estrange came of a fairly good family, so far as birth counted, but - it was both impecunious and addicted to making unfortunate alliances. One - of her sisters had run away with a good-looking young fellow who had been - her father's valet. She was a woman who would have a good many undesirable - relatives knocking about. Miss Stella Keane, the daughter of an - impoverished Irishman, might well belong to this band of undesirables. - More especially as Guy's statements about her antecedents were of the most - bald and unsatisfactory nature. - </p> - <p> - It was all very sad and regrettable from every point of view, but, as Nina - calmly pointed out, several young heirs to peerages had been running amok - lately, in the matrimonial sense, and taking their wives from very - questionable quarters. Guy might have married some coarse and common - creature from the music-halls. It was unfortunate, in a way, that he had a - considerable fortune of his own, and could snap his fingers at the - displeasure of his relatives, if they presumed to show it. - </p> - <p> - But, somehow, knowing Guy as well as she did, Nina did not believe that - the future Countess of Southleigh, who would, in due course, wear the - family jewels, was likely to be coarse or common. Guy was too fastidious, - too innately a gentleman, to be snared by a creature of that kind. - </p> - <p> - And, on her first introduction, the young wife made a much more favourable - impression than might have been anticipated, considering the prejudices - arrayed against her. - </p> - <p> - She was not in the least servile or obsequious in the presence of these - two very aristocratic persons, but she bore herself with a certain kind of - shrinking modesty, as if asking pardon for having intruded into the - family. Her attitude to her husband appeared to be one of shy adoration, - tempered with perfect good taste. Her deep affection for him, while not - obtrusive or ostentatious, seemed to express itself in her tender glances, - the soft cadences of her voice when she addressed him. - </p> - <p> - Nina made up her mind to one thing, that, if she was not genuinely and - devotedly in love with him, she must be one of the most perfect actresses - to be met with off the stage. - </p> - <p> - And Guy was still infatuated. When he had made her that strange offer, he - knew that he was drifting, but he had still left some small remnant of - self-control. But her fascination had proved too strong. Every day she - wove the chains more strongly round him. - </p> - <p> - And then there came a time when absence from her was unbearable, when he - took to counting the hours that elapsed between their next meeting. The - end was inevitable. The moment came when he definitely made up his mind - that he could not break away; that existence without her would be - intolerable. - </p> - <p> - They were married quietly before the registrar, a strange wedding for the - heir to the Southleigh earldom. No relatives of his were present, as he - had foreborne to give them any notice of his intention. She was unattended - also. Even her cousin, Mr. Dutton, did not put in an appearance. Knowing - her future husband's dislike of the young man, she had not paid him the - compliment of requesting his attendance. - </p> - <p> - The day before the marriage, she spoke to him in a tremulous voice and - with tears in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - "Guy, darling, I have said very little about this before, but you must not - think I am blind to the sacrifices you are making. From to-morrow I bid - adieu to my past life, to all the few friends and acquaintances I have - made; I know that you will be happier by my doing so. Henceforth I devote - my whole life to you. Your people shall be my people, if they will forgive - me and have me." - </p> - <p> - He clasped her to his breast with a lover's rapture. How sweet and womanly - she looked as she uttered those words in her low, broken tones. He - understood what she meant. For his sake she was going to give up all that - shady L'Estrange crew, to see as little of her objectionable cousin as - possible. She explained, later on, that she could not ignore him - altogether, as he had the management of her small affairs in his hands. - But all this could be conducted by correspondence. - </p> - <p> - Guy was delighted. He knew well enough that his own world would not accept - his marriage kindly, that they would never take his wife to their offended - bosom. But they would rub along somehow. There were plenty of men he could - bring to their house, and perhaps a few decent women who were perfectly - respectable, but not too strait-laced. And, anyway, the world was well - lost for love like this. - </p> - <p> - It cannot be said that, on the social side, their existence was a very - brilliant one. It did not matter so much to Guy, he had never been - over-fond of society. He liked his men friends, and having been a bachelor - so long, he was fond of club life. He got quite as much amusement and - distraction as he wanted. - </p> - <p> - His wife had many lonely hours, but she was wise in this respect that she - never sought to chain him to her side. Whenever he came home he found her - there waiting for him, affectionate and welcoming. Perhaps, after her - stormy and chequered past, what would have been dullness to others seemed - to her the peace she had been longing for. - </p> - <p> - She got on very well with her husband's male friends, most of whom openly - expressed amongst themselves their admiration for her. - </p> - <p> - If she had been a woman of a flirtatious temperament she could have had a - good time without overstepping the bounds of decorum. But she never - exceeded the limits of strict friendship. She never indulged in an - intimacy that could have the least element of danger in it. The general - vote was, that she was very beautiful, very charming, in a quiet, elusive - way, but naturally of a cold and unimpassionable nature. Only for her - husband did her glance take on a warmer expression, her voice a tenderer - tone. - </p> - <p> - The few women who came to the house found her unsatisfactory. The - impression made upon them—and women are pretty shrewd when - dissecting one of their own sex—was that she was a person who lived - too much within herself, had a rooted disinclination "to let herself go" - in those little confidential chats which are indulged in when no men are - present. And for that studied reticence there must be some cogent reason. - Above all, she never referred to her girlhood, never made any allusions to - her family. The general impression was that Mrs. Spencer had something to - hide. - </p> - <p> - Anyway, after many months of married life, Guy was still as much in love - with her as ever, and he was always profoundly touched by the pretty and - impressive way in which she insisted that all the advantages were on her - side, that she could never repay him sufficiently for the sacrifices he - had so cheerfully made. - </p> - <p> - Of course Guy knew nothing of what his friends were saying; the men who - admired her beauty, and were disappointed at the negative qualities which - accompanied it; the women who found her unsatisfactory and were determined - that she had something to hide. - </p> - <p> - All he knew, and was content in knowing, was this—that after many - months of matrimony, for they had been married few weeks before the - Armistice was proclaimed—that Armistice which was to be the - precursor of a golden era—he was quite happy. She was a perfect - wife, from his point of view, and he never looked back with the faintest - misgiving. What he had done then, he would do again to-day, in spite of - the fact that her reticence with regard to the past was as profound with - him as with the various acquaintances who occasionally visited her. - </p> - <p> - Not even the close intimacy of married life had elicited any of those - allusions and confidences which enable one to piece together, in some - measure, the life-history of the person who makes them. But Guy had a - generous nature, and was one of the least suspicious of men. He attributed - this strange reticence to the fact that the past contained nothing but - painful memories, that even to the man she loved she could not reopen the - old wounds. - </p> - <p> - On this particular night, Lady Nina was awaiting her guests. It was a - little dinnerparty to meet the young married couple, six in all, herself - and father, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, a young woman friend of the hostess, and - an old friend of the Southleigh family, Hugh Murchison, already met with - in the early chapters of this history. - </p> - <p> - Murchison was the first arrival. He walked with a slight limp, the result - of a bad wound in the leg. He had been laid-up for a very long time at his - own home with the effects of shell-shock. He had only been in London for a - few days, and it was ages since the Southleighs had seen him. They - welcomed him warmly. - </p> - <p> - After a little desultory conversation Nina spoke: - </p> - <p> - "You know from my note that you are here to-night especially to meet Guy - and his wife, the wife that he sprang upon us in such a sudden and - dramatic manner." - </p> - <p> - "Yes, I understood that. You know I have been out of the world so long, - and more than half the time not in my right senses, that I had heard - nothing of the details till, a day or two ago, I picked it up from club - gossip. Then I was told that Guy had picked up a girl from nowhere, about - whom nothing was known, and married her on the sly at a registry-office. I - suppose it would be too unkind to assume that Guy had gone off his head?" - </p> - <p> - Lord Southleigh growled out from his easy-chair. "Of course he was off his - head when he did it. And the devil of it is he seems just as much off his - head now. They are like turtle-doves, my dear boy, after several months of - marriage." - </p> - <p> - Lady Nina laughed. "My dear father gets more cynical every day. He - insinuates as a general proposition, anyway it can be deduced from his - remarks, that every man who marries a girl for love ought to be - disillusioned shortly after the honeymoon. Well, certainly Guy is as much - in love as ever, and, to be quite fair, she seems just as much in love - with him." - </p> - <p> - "She's putting it on, I suppose," suggested Hugh, who in a less obtrusive - fashion was nearly as cynical as his host. "If she came from nowhere, and - nobody knows anything about her, we may safely assume that she married him - for his money, and that he was too infatuated to recognise the fact. Is - she very bewitching?" - </p> - <p> - "She is certainly very good-looking," was Nina's reply. "Many people say - she is beautiful. From a man's point of view, she would be considered very - charming in a subtle and elusive sort of way. Of course, my father hates - her, it is a terrible shock to his pride to think she is going to inherit - the family honours. Guy could have married anybody, although there would - always have been still the danger that he would have been married for his - money. When it comes to this point, there is not much difference between - the well-born and low-born adventuress." - </p> - <p> - From which remarks it will be gathered that the Lady Nina Spencer was a - young woman of independent opinions, and not too strongly imbued with - caste prejudices. - </p> - <p> - Hugh reflected for a few moments. His thoughts had travelled back to those - days at Blankfield, which now seemed so very far oft. What folly will not - a certain type of man commit for the sake of a pretty woman? Jack Pomfret, - in a moment of frenzy, had taken his life when he found he was tied up to - a girl the accomplice and the decoy of a criminal. - </p> - <p> - And Guy Spencer, a man of a very different type from the easy-going, - pleasure-loving Pomfret, had made a hash of his opportunities, flouted his - family obligations, to pursue the desire of the moment, to marry out of - his own class. - </p> - <p> - "What I hear is, that there is something very mysterious about her, that - she preserves a strange reticence as to her past, makes no allusion to - family or relatives. Does Guy know what other people do not know, and is - he keeping his mouth shut? It is strange. Even if a man marries a - ballet-girl, it comes out sooner or later that her father was a railway - porter, or something of that sort." He pulled himself up suddenly, and - added, awkwardly: "I say, you know, I am afraid I have been very - indiscreet. I forgot for the moment that she is one of the family now." - </p> - <p> - A deep growl came from the Earl's armchair: "She is not one of the family, - she never will be. If the young fool had not been left that money by his - godmother he would never have dared to do this disgraceful thing. By gad, - Hugh, it is over a hundred years since there was such a <i>mésalliance</i> - in our family: please Heaven it will be a hundred years before there is - another." - </p> - <p> - Nina took up the conversation at the point where her angry father left it. - </p> - <p> - "Of course, Hugh, you can say what you like. You are our old friend; you - are Guy's for that matter, and we are prepared to discuss this thing with - you quite frankly. Guy may know more than we imagine; personally, I think - he knows very little, and only what she has told him." - </p> - <p> - "But surely, she must have given some particulars of herself," cried Hugh, - in amazement that a man like his friend Spencer, endowed with a fair share - of common-sense, should take a wife upon trust, as it were. To be sure, - Pomfret had done the same thing, but then poor old Jack, possessor of many - excellent qualities, was singularly deficient in brain-power. He was one - of those who never looked before they leaped. - </p> - <p> - Nina shrugged her shoulders. "All we know is that she was a Miss Stella - Keane, the daughter of a man who gambled away his fortune at cards and on - the race-course. As for relatives, she has for cousin a Mrs. L'Estrange, a - woman of good birth, but of somewhat shady reputation, who no longer mixes - with her own class. There is another cousin, a man whose name I forget. I - gather more from what has been omitted than what is actually said, that he - is not a very desirable person, and has not visited Mrs. Spencer since her - marriage. That is all I have learned during these many months." - </p> - <p> - "Not much, certainly. And I suppose the lady dries up when you try to - approach her on the subject." - </p> - <p> - "Oh yes, her manner then is very marked," was Nina's answer. "At the - slightest question she seems to become frozen, to shut herself up within - her shell. You know, Hugh, I was prepared to make the best of it all for - Guy's sake, although, of course, I quite sympathise with my father's - resentment. I have nothing to say against her manners or her appearance. - If not a lady, she is most ladylike, and she never offends. But all the - same, I can't take to her. To me there seems something about her secretive - and underhand. She appears to adore Guy, but, as you have suggested, that - may be very accomplished acting." - </p> - <p> - At this point, Miss Crichton, Lady Nina's friend, was announced. She was - not in the inner counsels of the Southleigh family, so no further allusion - was made to Guy's wife. - </p> - <p> - A few moments later the Spencers arrived. Guy shook his old friend - Murchison warmly by the hand, they had met of late years only once or - twice during Hugh's brief leave from the Front. When they had exchanged a - few mutual inquiries, the young husband turned to his wife, looking very - slender and elegant in a filmy cream confection. - </p> - <p> - "Stella, one of my oldest friends, Hugh Murchison. We were boys together. - You must have heard me speak of him." - </p> - <p> - The young woman held out her hand with a charming smile that lighted up - the rather sad face, and made her look what so many of her admirers said - she was, quite beautiful. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, Major Murchison, I have heard of you from my husband, and how much - you have suffered in this cruel war. You must come and see us, and renew - your old friendship." - </p> - <p> - For a moment Hugh could not speak. The room seemed suddenly peopled with - ghosts of the past, summoned by the soft tones of that charming voice, so - low and sweetly modulated. Then, collecting himself with a great effort, - he dropped her hand, and made some formal answer. And at that moment the - butler announced that dinner was served. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>mall and informal - dinner-parties can be either very lively or very dull, depending, no - doubt, upon the careful selection of the guests, also on the personality - of the host and hostess, who can sometimes exercise magnetic influence. - </p> - <p> - Nina was, as a rule, a very vivacious hostess. Her father was uncertain. - If he were in a congenial atmosphere, amongst his old friends and - comrades, he would radiate geniality. But if there was one guest who did - not quite hit it off with him, between whom and himself there was an - undefined spirit of personal antagonism, he dried up at once, and became - gloomy and morose. - </p> - <p> - To-night, as his guest of honour, sitting at his right hand, he had the - niece-in-law whose entrance into the family he had so bitterly resented. - During the long courses he hardly spoke a word. He was rude almost to - boorishness. - </p> - <p> - But although Stella was fully conscious that she was there on sufferance, - her admirable self-control enabled her to comport herself with unruffled - demeanour. If this spiteful old man hoped that he was annoying her with - his churlish behaviour, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing - that she was hurt. She ignored him, as he purposely ignored her. - </p> - <p> - Miss Crichton, a cheerful, chatty young woman, whose flow of good spirits - made her welcome at many houses, sat on the other side of the host. - Finding Lord Southleigh disinclined to conversation, and guessing the - reason of it, she divided her remarks between Stella Spencer and - Murchison, who sat next her. - </p> - <p> - A good-hearted girl, she felt just a little bit sorry for Stella. Lord - Southleigh was not playing the game. His attitude was altogether - illogical. It was open to him to refuse to receive his unwelcome niece at - all, that would have been perfectly comprehensible. But having admitted - her to his house, it was in the worst possible taste to so openly proclaim - his dislike and detestation. - </p> - <p> - Lady Nina talked brightly to her cousin Guy, in the random flashes of her - conversation, taking in the others, with the solitary exception of her - father, who sat there glum and silent, in one of his blackest and most - unapproachable moods. And Miss Crichton did her best, really working very - hard to counteract the sombre influence of the taciturn host. - </p> - <p> - But in spite of the brave efforts of the two young women there was no - exhilaration in the air, only a sort of well-defined depression, such as - is felt in the atmosphere before the faint rumblings of a thunderstorm. - Nobody really felt comfortable, not a single guest would feel anything but - relief when the tedious evening drew to a close. - </p> - <p> - Guy Spencer was relieved, in a way, that his uncle had ostensibly buried - the hatchet, but still he never felt happy in that uncle's house. The - strong disapproval was there, if suppressed for the sake of politeness. - </p> - <p> - These little informal dinners, given at long intervals to impress upon him - that he was still a recognised member of the family, bored him extremely. - They were always strictly limited as to numbers, and the other guests were - generally people of no importance, on the outer fringe of that society in - which the Southleighs moved. - </p> - <p> - It was difficult to know what Stella was feeling, for she had such - admirable self-control. But if she was a sensitive woman she must have - been cut to the heart by the behaviour of her elderly relative. And her - suffering must have been more poignant from the fact that this - contemptuous behaviour must be apparent to every other member of the - party. - </p> - <p> - While the two young women were chattering away, battling, as it were, - against the general depression, Hugh Murchison was trying to collect his - thoughts. - </p> - <p> - Strange that his recollections had harked back to that tragedy at - Blankfield while Nina was speaking of the young Mrs. Spencer. And, if his - memory and his eyesight were not playing him false, he was sitting - opposite to the unhappy Pomfret's widow. - </p> - <p> - Six years make a considerable difference in the personal appearance of any - man or woman, and they had made a difference in her. If he had met her in - the street, he would not have known her. Perhaps he would not have known - her to-night, but for that sudden accidental throwing back of the memory - of old times. In other words, if his mind had not been accidentally - diverted to Jack Pomfret, he would have failed to recognise the woman whom - he once knew under the name of Norah Burton. - </p> - <p> - And yet could he be sure? Let him think a little. Six years ago Norah - Burton looked twenty, and Davidson the detective assured him she was at - least four years older than she looked—the appearance of youth, he - had added, was one of her assets. - </p> - <p> - This young woman did not look a day older than twenty-six, and taking the - computation of the years, she must be at least thirty. But if she were - Norah Burton, and had retained that priceless asset of youth, she would - still have that four years' advantage. - </p> - <p> - Then Norah Burton's hair was fair and wavy, Stella Spencer's was dark. - Still it is easy for a woman to alter the colour or the appearance of her - hair. If Stella Keane had arisen, like the phoenix, from Norah Burton, she - would alter herself in every detail, so far as Nature permitted her. - </p> - <p> - Still, it is said that everybody in the world has a double. Often in his - own experience he had claimed acquaintance with somebody whom he had - mistaken for an old friend, and smilingly apologised for his error. - Norah's good looks had been of a rather uncommon kind, but there must be - dozens of women in the world more or less like her. - </p> - <p> - Then, as Miss Crichton's harmless chatter flowed on, he thought of other - things. Norah had an obscure past, on which such guarded confidences as - she permitted herself to indulge in threw little or no light. It would - appear that Stella Keane's history moved much on the same lines. There - were only vague intimations, nothing definite, nothing satisfactory. - </p> - <p> - There was another point of resemblance. Norah had one male relative who - came out into the open for inspection, in her case a brother, afterwards - discovered to be a criminal. Stella Keane had one male relative also, in - her case a cousin, of whom nothing was known, except that he was an - undesirable person who had not visited his relative's house since her - marriage, no doubt for reasons well known to himself and Stella. - </p> - <p> - <i>Ergo</i> the undesirable cousin was lying low, as George Burton would - have lain low, when Jack Pomfret had openly acknowledged Norah as his - wife. - </p> - <p> - And yet—and yet—was there anything in these suspicions? was he - not allowing himself to be misled by a chance resemblance, by random - coincidences? - </p> - <p> - He stole a look at Guy Spencer chatting amiably with his cousin, the - cousin whom rumour had persistently designed as the future Countess of - Southleigh. He seemed the happy contented young married man; there was no - hint of trouble or regret in his assured, placid demeanour. Evidently he - was suffering from no self-reproach, no suspicion of the beautiful young - woman he had made his wife. The calmness of his aspect gave the lie to any - such disquieting suggestions. - </p> - <p> - And the current of Murchison's thoughts ran swiftly along. They had been - married some time now. If Stella Keane was the impostor Hugh suspected her - to be, from that striking resemblance to Norah Burton the heroine of that - tragic Blankville episode, surely in the close intimacy of wedded life - something would have escaped her that would have aroused her husband's - suspicions, have set him inquiring more closely into the past. - </p> - <p> - Granting that she was a clever actress, still the most accomplished - performer in the world could not wear the mask all day. There must come - one moment, if not several moments, when that mask would be inadvertently - dropped. - </p> - <p> - No, he must be mistaken. The resemblance must be accidental. The brother - in the one case, the cousin in the other, were equally accidental - coincidences. - </p> - <p> - He had got to this frame of mind when the men joined the ladies after - dinner. In the spacious drawing-room, the atmosphere seemed to have - cleared, the tension to be relaxed, with the change of scene. - </p> - <p> - This was readily comprehensible. During dinner, Lord Southleigh, frowning - and morose, in close juxtaposition with his guests, had in a very real - sense dominated the scene, and communicated a sense of his hostility and - displeasure to all round him, not least to the unhappy young woman who had - inspired those wrathful feelings. - </p> - <p> - Upstairs he was less in evidence. He retreated to the far end of the room, - flung himself in a deep armchair, and, in a way, removed himself from the - proceedings. There was nobody to whom he felt himself constrained to be - civil. Murchison he had known from a boy; he could afford to be uncivil, - to play the rôle of churlish host. Miss Crichton was more or less a social - hanger-on, grateful for invitations to good houses; she did not count. Guy - had forfeited all claim to consideration. His wife ought to be made to - feel her position every moment of her life. - </p> - <p> - Murchison gravitated to Miss Crichton. Well born, she was very poor, and - by no means proud. She accepted in a meek spirit the social crumbs that - were thrown at her by her wealthy superiors. She was always obliging and - amiable. She never grumbled at being asked to join a dinner-party at the - eleventh hour, when some other guest had failed. She never resented being - put in a small bedroom at a country house-party, while a rich girl with no - ancestry was given a luxurious apartment. - </p> - <p> - On account of this excessive amiability, this indifference to studied and - unstudied slights, she was immensely popular. All her friends declared her - not only to be amiable, but "so sensible!" - </p> - <p> - Hugh had known her for years, and in a way he pitied her, much more really - than she pitied herself, for she had long since grown accustomed to her - lot. But what he did know was, that she was as shrewd as she was amiable, - that under that gay and smiling exterior she concealed a very acute - intelligence. - </p> - <p> - He wanted particularly to know her opinion of Mrs. Spencer, if she were - frank enough to give it, for she had especially developed the bump of - caution. She heard a great deal, but what she heard she generally kept to - herself. It would have been fatal to her somewhat insecure position if it - could have been said of her, with regard to any particular scandal, "Of - course, you will never give me away, but Laura Crichton was my informant." - </p> - <p> - He replied in a general way, "I was very interested, to-night, in my old - friend Guy Spencer's wife. She is a little bit on the quiet side, but she - is very beautiful, and there is certainly a wonderful charm about her. Of - course, Lord Southleigh behaved abominably. I rather wonder she did not - fling herself out of the room. One can understand his feelings, in a - certain way. But why does he not take one attitude or the other? If he - elects to receive her, for the sake of avoiding an open breach, he ought - to put his hostility in his pocket." - </p> - <p> - Miss Crichton smiled her worldly and diplomatic smile: "Dear Lord - Southleigh is never very successful at hiding his real feelings." - </p> - <p> - "Do you see much of her?" asked Hugh presently. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, very little. I have met her a few times here, at these little - informal gatherings. Lord Southleigh won't have her at their big parties, - as I daresay you know. I have called on her a few times, and she has - called back. That is all." - </p> - <p> - "Well, you have seen enough to form some opinion of her. I should dearly - like to know what that is." - </p> - <p> - Miss Crichton looked at him quizzically. "Oh, the artfulness of you men! - Do you think I don't see that you are trying to draw me? Well, I have - formed the same conclusion that you have—she is very beautiful, and, - from a man's point of view, has a subtle charm. Will that content you?" - </p> - <p> - Hugh regarded her with a smile as quizzical as her own. "No, I'm afraid it - won't. Now, look here, we are very old friends," he said persuasively, - "and I am pretty near as discreet as you are, I never repeat what is told - me in confidence. I should like to put a plain question to you." - </p> - <p> - "Put it: I don't promise to answer it, you know." - </p> - <p> - "Of course not. But I am very much interested in this strange marriage of - Guy's. And, please don't think I am laying it on with a trowel, but I have - very great faith in your judgment, I would trust it more than I would that - of nine-tenths of the women I know." - </p> - <p> - Of course she knew he was flattering her to obtain his purpose; but then—was - the most sensible woman absolutely impervious to flattery? - </p> - <p> - "Ask me your question," she answered briefly. - </p> - <p> - Hugh sank his voice to a whisper. "We hear a great deal about her - reticence as to the past. Do you think, in a few words, that Stella - Spencer is a good and straight woman in the general sense in which we - understand the expression?" - </p> - <p> - For a moment Miss Crichton hesitated, then she looked him straight in the - face. He had compelled her to a most unusual frankness. - </p> - <p> - "You will, of course, never breathe a word of this to anybody. Suppose I - say I refuse to reply to your question. Will you take that refusal as the - answer you really want?" - </p> - <p> - "I will—a thousand thanks. The subject is closed between us," was - Hugh's grateful reply. - </p> - <p> - A diversion was caused by the approach of Guy Spencer. - </p> - <p> - "Hugh, old man, I am aching for a long crack with you. Come and dine - quietly with us next week. I suggest Tuesday if that will suit you?" - </p> - <p> - "Perfectly; I am free on Tuesday, Guy." - </p> - <p> - "Right, then. But to make sure, if Miss Crichton will excuse us, we will - go over to Stella and see if I have forgotten something, if we are free - that night. I can't always carry these things in my head." - </p> - <p> - They crossed over to the beautiful young woman, who was sustaining a - somewhat listless conversation with her young hostess. - </p> - <p> - "Stella," cried her husband, "I have asked Hugh to dine with us on - Tuesday. My recollection is that we have nothing on for that night. But I - thought you had better confirm it. You carry these things in your head so - much better than I do." - </p> - <p> - Young Mrs. Spencer smiled at Hugh her sweet smile, and as she did so her - likeness to Norah Burton was overwhelming, the Norah Burton who had smiled - at him in just the same way six years ago, in the tea-shop at Blankfield. - </p> - <p> - "We are quite free, Major Murchison, and shall be delighted to see you." - </p> - <p> - For a few moments he sat down beside her; and very shortly another - coincidence happened. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer made use of a certain word which is always pronounced in a - certain way by educated people, and in another way by people who are only - partially educated. Norah Burton had pronounced this particular word in - the same way as Stella. - </p> - <p> - Hugh had commented upon the fact to Pomfret, and that easy-going young man - had remarked to him that he failed to see it much mattered, that she was - at liberty to pronounce the word as she thought fit. - </p> - <p> - When he got home, he passed a very restless night. When he had gone up - into the drawingroom after dinner, he had been half prepared to dismiss - the matter from his mind as a mere fantasy. And then had come his brief - interview with Laura Crichton, in which she gave him plainly to understand - that, in her opinion, Stella Spencer was not a good or a straight woman. - </p> - <p> - And then had come that corroborative little piece of evidence of the - mispronunciation of a certain word, establishing another link in the chain - of evidence that Stella Keane and Norah Burton were one and the same - person. - </p> - <p> - And if it were so, what was his duty? If he could prove her to be Norah - Burton, and her undesirable relative, George Burton, now freed from jail, - could he permit such an adventuress to pass another day in the house of - this honest gentleman whom she had so skilfully entrapped, as six years - ago she had entrapped the guileless and trusting Jack Pomfret? - </p> - <p> - The morning dawned and found him still in the throes of anxious thought. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s Murchison - thought over matters in the cold, clear light of the morning, when the - brain is at its freshest, he cursed the fate that ever seemed to mix him - up in the private affairs of his friends. First had been that unhappy - episode of poor Jack Pomfret, who had not strength of mind to survive the - disgrace he had brought upon himself by his impetuous folly. - </p> - <p> - Now there was this affair of Guy Spencer's, which he felt he must go - through with and prove to the bottom. He must find out definitely whether - the likeness to Norah Burton was accidental, or whether that scheming - adventuress had, for the second time, ensnared a trusting and unsuspicious - man. - </p> - <p> - On Tuesday night when he dined in Eaton Place with the Spencers, he would - seize an opportunity of putting to her a few leading questions. They would - be of such a nature, that if his suspicions were correct, they would shake - her self-possession. - </p> - <p> - Certainly, she had betrayed no embarrassment at the sight of him, and that - was a point in her favour. For, assuming that she was Norah Burton, the - name of Murchison would be quite familiar to her, even if she had - forgotten his appearance after the lapse of those six years. - </p> - <p> - In the meantime he would get as much information about Stella Keane as he - could before the date of the dinner. There was a man at his club, Gregory - Fairfax, a middle-aged gossip, who was to be found in the smoking-room - every day at a certain hour. - </p> - <p> - Fairfax was a man of leisure and means, who had the reputation of knowing - more people, and all about them, than anybody in town. He mixed in a dozen - different sets: smart, fast, and Bohemian. He was equally at home in - Belgravia, Mayfair, South Kensington, and several other quarters. He - belonged to most of the best clubs, and many more that had no pretensions - to social distinction. His knowledge of the various phases of London life - was wide and extensive. He had also a marvellous memory. He never forgot a - face or the minutest details of a scandal. - </p> - <p> - To this gentleman, with whom he was on quite intimate terms, having known - him from his first introduction to the London world, Hugh repaired, in the - hope of getting to know all there was to know about this mysterious young - woman who had so suddenly and clandestinely projected herself into the - Southleigh family. - </p> - <p> - After a few casual remarks, he opened the ball. It was an easy task, for - there was nothing pleased Fairfax more than to place his extensive social - knowledge at the service of any friend or acquaintance who was in search - of details. - </p> - <p> - "I say, Fairfax, I think you can help me in a little matter, because you - have the reputation of knowing everything about everybody." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fairfax smiled genially. He was very proud of his profound social - knowledge, and nothing pleased him more than to have his well-earned - reputation alluded to in flattering terms. - </p> - <p> - "Fire away, my young friend. I think I have picked up a bit in my - twenty-five years of London life. Who is it you want to ask me about?" - </p> - <p> - "I dined last night with my old friends the Southleighs; and there, for - the first time, I met Mrs. Guy Spencer. I had heard of the marriage, of - course, but no particulars of the young lady until I came to town a little - while ago. All I have learned is that she was a Miss Stella Keane, and - that she gives no very detailed account of her family history. I gather - the general impression is that there is a mystery about her, which she - refuses to allow anybody to penetrate. Do you know anything about her - yourself?" - </p> - <p> - Fairfax assumed an air of great gravity and importance. He was now in his - element, about to pour out his stores of knowledge to an interested and - grateful listener. - </p> - <p> - "There may be one or two people who know as much as I know—always - remembering that there is no first-hand knowledge, but the chances are a - hundred to one you would not come across them. It happens that I was a - good deal in that rather queer set which frequented Mrs. L'Estrange's - flat." - </p> - <p> - "She was supposed to|be a well-bred woman, was she not?" - </p> - <p> - "Oh, certainly, so far as family went. But, judging in the light of - subsequent events, there is no doubt she was a wrong'un. The place, from - the start, was simply a gambling saloon. Sometimes, the play was very - moderate. I am fond of a bit of a flutter myself, but I must own that I - never lost very much, and for a long time I never had any suspicions of - foul play." - </p> - <p> - "Ah, but you had later on?" interrupted Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "I'll come to that before we get on to Miss Stella Keane. Then one night - something happened. Do you remember a little chap named Esmond, who used - to go about everywhere?" - </p> - <p> - Yes, Hugh remembered Tommy Esmond, although his acquaintance with him had - been of the slightest. - </p> - <p> - "He was a funny little man, very genial and popular with everybody. Like - myself, he didn't stick to any one particular set, but went into a dozen - different ones. One night he would be dining at a swagger club with a - peer, the next he would be hobnobbing at a pot-house sort of a place with - a fifth-rate actor. Very eclectic was Tommy, and nobody ever knew where - the deuce he came from. He had been so long about that people forgot to - inquire, and looked upon him as a sort of institution, and took him for - granted, as it were. - </p> - <p> - "Well, one night, one dreadful night, Tommy was discovered cheating by a - couple of chaps who were too sharp for him. They were common sort of - fellows, might have been crooks themselves for all I know, and kicked up a - deuce of a row. They went so far as to insinuate that Mrs. L'Estrange was - not altogether innocent, and had a hand in the plunder. Result, Tommy had - to make a bolt of it." - </p> - <p> - "What was your own opinion about it? Was it an accident?" - </p> - <p> - "I might not have believed it, but a similar thing took place about a - couple of months later. Another man was found cheating, and this time Mrs. - L'Estrange refused to face the music. She closed down, and disappeared - from London. I have never met anybody who has seen or heard anything of - her since. I expect she's to be found on the Continent like her friend - Tommy." - </p> - <p> - "And Miss Keane was an inmate of this suspicious household?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, ever since I went to the house, up to a few days after Tommy bolted. - She left suddenly, and Mrs. L'Estrange was very reticent as to where she - had gone to. The next I heard was that she had been married quietly to Guy - Spencer." - </p> - <p> - "Did any suspicions attach to her?" - </p> - <p> - "No, it would not be fair to say that they did. She never played herself, - but she had a great knack of hovering about the tables. And after the - Esmond episode one or two men whispered that she had been hovering about - them too much, and that Mrs. L'Estrange thought she had better get rid of - her, might be so or not." - </p> - <p> - "Did you ever come across a cousin of hers there, a man named Dutton?" - </p> - <p> - "Oh yes, a dozen or more times, for I went to the flat pretty frequently. - A common, under-bred fellow, not in the least like her, for in addition to - being remarkably good-looking, her manners and appearance were those of a - lady." - </p> - <p> - "Do you know what has become of him?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, he's an outside stockbroker, with a small office in the City. I ran - against him only last week. I don't know whether he recognised me or not, - but I looked the other way. With one or two exceptions, the L'Estrange <i>clientèle</i> - was not one that you cared to recognise when outside the flat." - </p> - <p> - Fairfax had finished his narrative. Hugh thanked him warmly. Still, he had - not learned anything really of importance. There was no evidence that Miss - Keane had cheated, or helped others to cheat. The hovering round the - card-table was not a particularly suspicious action if taken by itself. - She might be signalling to her confederates, of course, but there was no - evidence on which to convict her. - </p> - <p> - A sudden thought struck Murchison which prompted him to put a question to - Fairfax. - </p> - <p> - "She might have been a decoy, to lure rich men to this gambling place, in - order that they might be rooked by her accomplices." The middle-aged man - shook his head. "I don't think so. She had no scope for that sort of game. - Mrs. L'Estrange hardly knew anybody in her own world, for reasons which I - daresay could be very satisfactorily explained, I should guess a not too - clean or reputable past. She could not get the girl into houses where she - would pick up rich men." - </p> - <p> - "But you say some men came there who played heavily." - </p> - <p> - "A few," answered Fairfax. "But I always had a notion that Dutton picked - those up, in the course of his shady business, a mug here, a mug there, - who had a few thousands to throw away either on the Stock Exchange or in - gambling. If the flat was run on the crook, and it is even betting it was, - I should say the proprietors—or the syndicate, call it what you like—were - contented with quite small profits. I daresay a couple of thousand a year - would keep Mrs. L'Estrange in luxury, and I suppose she must have had a - bit of money of her own." - </p> - <p> - "And, assuming that they were all in league, Tommy Esmond and others would - want their bit," suggested Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "Certainly," assented Fairfax; "but always granting that the show was run - on the crook, it wouldn't be difficult to romp in thirty or forty pounds a - night, with even the small players and the occasional mugs who were - well-lined. Quite a decent amount to divide at the end of the week." - </p> - <p> - "Well, I am awfully obliged for all you have told me, Fairfax." - </p> - <p> - "But it doesn't help you much, eh?" queried the elder man, who detected a - certain note of disappointment in his companion's tone. - </p> - <p> - "Well, candidly, it doesn't, but of course, that is no fault of yours. We - may dismiss the L'Estrange business, there is no evidence there. She might - have signalled to her confederates or not. It might have been a perfectly - innocent action. She didn't play herself, she just hovered round the - tables to kill the time." - </p> - <p> - "Of course, either theory will fit," remarked the shrewd man of the world, - who had picked up so much knowledge of life in his forty-five strenuous - years. - </p> - <p> - He paused for a few moments before he spoke again. - </p> - <p> - "Now look here, Murchison, I can read you like a book. I haven't told you - very much more than you know yourself, or could have pieced together. You - are disappointed because I couldn't tell you anything of her history prior - to her appearance in the L'Estrange household. Well, there, I am at fault. - And you have a particular reason for wanting to know. In other words, you - have some suspicions of your own." - </p> - <p> - Hugh felt he must be cautious. In connecting Mrs. Spencer with Norah - Burton he might be on the wrong track altogether, have been deceived by a - striking, but purely accidental, resemblance. He could not be too frank - with a man of Fairfax's temperament. Rumour had it that he would always - respect a confidence, but his general reputation was that of a chatterbox. - He spoke guardedly. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, certain undefined ones, quite undefined, please understand that." - Then, speaking a little more frankly, "What I dearly want to know is, was - she a straight woman before she charmed my friend Guy Spencer into - marrying her." - </p> - <p> - Fairfax smiled his slow, wise smile: "I am glad you have put your cards on - the table. Of course I guessed from the beginning that it was what you - were after. Well, I shan't breathe a word of this to anybody; I can hold - my tongue when I have a mind. You have a deep interest in the matter for - the sake of the Southleigh family, eh?" - </p> - <p> - Hugh had to admit that it was so. - </p> - <p> - "Well, I am going to tell you something that, up to the present, I have - not told to anybody else, and, to tell you the truth, I was not in the - least interested in Guy Spencer's marriage. If he chose to marry a girl - without a past, that was his affair. But I see you are keen." - </p> - <p> - "Yes, I am very keen." - </p> - <p> - "Good! well, I will give you a little information, from which you can draw - your own inferences. They are as open to you as to me, and I shall just - state the bare facts. As you know, Esmond had to bolt to the Continent. On - a certain morning I came up from the country by an early train, landing at - Charing Cross. I went to the bookstall to buy a few papers. I must tell - you that I am one of those persons who have eyes at the back of their - head, and see everything going on around them." - </p> - <p> - Yes, Hugh knew that Fairfax had a wonderful gift of observation, in - addition to his many other gifts. - </p> - <p> - "As I turned away, I saw Esmond slink into the station, glancing furtively - from right to left, as fearful of being seen. Of course, I had not heard - the news, and I was not present at the <i>débâcle</i>, but I guessed - something was up from his furtive appearance. As he slunk along, a young - woman heavily-veiled walked swiftly forward, and laid her hand upon his - arm. They were only together for a few seconds, Esmond was evidently - urging her to leave him for fear of recognition. When they parted, she - kissed him affectionately. In spite of the heavy veiling, I recognised - her." - </p> - <p> - "Stella Keane, of course," cried Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "Stella Keane. Fortunately, neither of them saw me, I expect they were - both too agitated. Well, there is the fact; as I said just now, you can - draw your own inferences, and perhaps answer the question whether she was - a good woman before she married your friend." - </p> - <p> - "It is answered," said Hugh sternly. "A good woman would not trouble to go - to the station to say good-bye to a derelict card-sharper, and kiss him - affectionately, unless there had been some close and dishonourable - relationship between them." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>urchison arrived - at Eaton Place about twenty minutes before the dinner hour. His - expectation was that he would find Mrs. Spencer alone in the drawing-room, - and in this hope he was not disappointed. - </p> - <p> - Stella, beautifully gowned, was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, reading. - As he was announced, she rose and threw her novel down. She advanced to - him with outstretched hand and that ever-charming smile. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, how sweet of you to come in good time, not rush in just a moment - before dinner is served. We can have a comfortable chat before Guy comes. - He takes an awful time to dress, you know. His ties bother him really; he - discards about half a dozen before he gets the proper bow. Isn't it - silly?" - </p> - <p> - She was very girlish to-night, quite different from what she had been at - the Southleigh party, staid, demure, a little resentful, and averse from - conversation. - </p> - <p> - Murchison's thoughts flew back to that day at Blankfield when he had met a - certain girl by chance at the tea-shop. Norah Burton had been just as - girlish then as Mrs. Spencer was now, allowing for the six years' - interval. - </p> - <p> - She crossed over to a Chesterfield, and motioned him to a seat beside her. - Hugh obeyed her invitation, but he felt sure that she had done this with a - motive. She was about to exercise her subtle fascination on her husband's - friend. - </p> - <p> - "Now, please tell me all about yourself," she said. "You are Guy's friend, - and I have a right to know. His friends are mine. I know what you have - done in the war: you have suffered very terribly. But before that; please - enlighten me." - </p> - <p> - It was a challenge. Did she desire to know as much of his past as he - desired to know of hers? He looked at her very steadily. - </p> - <p> - "You know, Mrs. Spencer, it is a little difficult to go back to anything - before those awful years of war. But I remember, as in a sort of dream, - that, quite as a young man, I was gazetted to the Twenty-fifth Lancers." - </p> - <p> - "A crack regiment, was it not?" queried Mrs. Spencer. "My dear father was - in the Twenty-fourth." - </p> - <p> - She was keeping it up bravely, he thought. He remembered Fairfax's story. - The woman who had said good-bye to a fugitive card-sharper at Charing - Cross Station, and kissed him affectionately, was hardly likely to be the - daughter of an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers. He was not sure of - very much, but of this one incident he was absolutely positive: Fairfax - was a man who was always certain of his facts. - </p> - <p> - "I can't remember much about the early years; I expect I went through the - usual trials and troubles of a young subaltern, was subjected to a good - deal of ragging. Well, somehow, promotion came: I was Captain at quite a - youthful age. The one thing that sticks in my mind, in those pre-war days, - is the fact that we were quartered at Blankfield." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer lifted calm, inquiring eyes. "At Blankfield! And where is - that?" - </p> - <p> - "You don't mean to say you haven't heard of Blankfield?" - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer shook her dark head. "No; I dare say it shows great - ignorance, but I was never good at geography. I was brought up so quietly; - I have never travelled. I know next to nothing of my own country, and - nothing of any other." - </p> - <p> - She uttered these remarks with a disarming and appealing smile, as if - asking pardon from a man of the world for having led such an uneventful - and sequestered life—she, as he thought sardonically, the mysterious - cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, the affectionate friend of the card-sharper - Tommie Esmond. - </p> - <p> - "Blankfield is rather a well-known town in Yorkshire; it is also a - garrison town. As I said, it was my lot to be quartered there." - </p> - <p> - "Was it a nice place?" queried Mrs. Spencer with an air of polite - interest. - </p> - <p> - "In a way, yes; we had a good time. But my recollections of it are - distinctly unpleasant. For I had the misfortune to assist at a tragedy—nay, - more, to play a part in it—which has left an ineffaceable record - upon my memory." Stella Spencer leaned forward. There was no momentary - change of expression upon the clear-cut, charming face; her eyes met his - own with a calm, steady gaze. But he thought—and after all that - might be fancy—he detected a restless movement of her hands. - </p> - <p> - "I shall like to hear about that tragedy, if it is not too painful for you - to recall it," she said softly. If she were really what he believed her to - be, she was playing the rôle of sympathetic listener to perfection. - </p> - <p> - "I had a young chum of the name of Pomfret, a mere boy, impulsive, - high-spirited, generous, unsuspicious, little versed in the ways of the - world, absolutely unversed in the ways of women. I had promised his family - to look after him. Looking back at this distance of years, I realise how - badly I fulfilled my trust; how, in a sense, I was unwittingly the cause - of the tragedy that befell him. I wonder if you ever came across my - friend, Jack Pomfret." - </p> - <p> - "Never; but, of course, I have met so few people. And you know the truth, - as well as everybody else, I was not brought up in my husband's world, in - your world and that of the Southleighs. I could never claim to be more - than respectable middle-class. I take it, your friend was a member of some - old family." - </p> - <p> - The voice was steady, but he thought he noticed an increased restlessness - in the movements of the hands. And the admission that she was a member of - the respectable middle-class struck him as conveying a false note - intentionally. If what she alleged was true, that her father had been an - officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers, she was a grade higher than the - respectable middle-class. Clever as she was, she had made a false step - there. - </p> - <p> - "You want to hear the history of that tragedy, of the terrible - circumstances which cut short the life of my poor young friend. Well, it - is hardly necessary to say that a woman was the cause. Women, I suppose, - have been at the bottom of most of the tragedies that have happened to men - ever since the days of Eve." - </p> - <p> - "I know that is the general opinion, but I have always been very doubtful - as to whether it is a true one." - </p> - <p> - She spoke lightly, but it seemed to him her tone was not quite so assured - as it had been a moment ago. Anyway, she was evidently intensely - interested in the forthcoming narrative. - </p> - <p> - "At Blankfield I happened to make the acquaintance of a very charming - young woman, who was not received in the Society of the place, for the - reason that nothing was known about her. The acquaintance was made in the - most unconventional fashion. She asked me to call upon her and her - brother. I told all this to Pomfret, who knew the girl by sight, and he - asked me to take him along with me. He had met her very often in the High - Street, and was immensely attracted by her appearance." - </p> - <p> - "And were you attracted, too, by this formidable young lady, Major - Murchison?" interrupted Stella. - </p> - <p> - "In a way. But, honestly, more curious than attracted. Well, to cut my - story as short as I can, Pomfret soon arrived at an understanding with the - young woman, to a great extent without my knowledge. They were married - secretly; there were family reasons why he could not marry her openly." - </p> - <p> - "But this—but this"—was she speaking a little nervously, or - was it only his fancy?—"was quite romantic and charming. No doubt - they were deeply in love with each other. Surely there was no tragedy to - follow such a delightful wooing?" - </p> - <p> - "But there was. This innocent-faced, charming girl was an adventuress of - the first water. She was the accomplice of her criminal brother, if - brother he was. A day or two after the wedding, Pomfret and I went to dine - with this wretched pair. Before we sat down to dinner, two detectives - entered the room and arrested the so-called brother on a charge of - forgery." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer shuddered. "How horrible, how appalling! And what happened to - the girl? was she arrested, too?" - </p> - <p> - "No; she fainted, and I dragged my friend away. At the time I did not know - he had married her. When I got him back to the barracks, he told me his - miserable story. That same night, or some time in the next morning, he - shot himself. It was perhaps a cowardly way in which to avoid the - consequences of his folly, but then he was always rash and impulsive." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer spoke, and there was a far-away look in her eyes. "Your poor - friend! No wonder that memory haunts you. And yet, he was not very wise. - This poor adventuress might have been easy to deal with; she might not - have troubled him any further if he had made her some small allowance; - would, so to speak, have slunk out of his life. And she might have been - innocent herself, unable to break away from this wretched criminal of a - brother." - </p> - <p> - "You are very charitable, Mrs. Spencer," said Hugh coldly. "But I fear I - cannot agree with you. If the girl had been naturally and innately honest, - she would rather have swept a crossing than have lived upon the gains of - that creature—brother, or lover, or whatever he was." - </p> - <p> - Stella spoke with dignity. "You are, I see, very much moved, Major - Murchison, and you can judge better than I. I cannot pretend to understand - the mentality of adventuresses and their criminal associates," she added - with a light laugh, "but I should say that sweeping a crossing is a most - uncongenial occupation, especially in the cold weather." - </p> - <p> - "In other words, if you had been in her place, you would have preferred to - live on the earnings of a rogue?" queried Hugh, perhaps a little too - warmly. As soon as he spoke, he regretted his words. He had given her an - advantage, of which she was not slow to avail herself. - </p> - <p> - She drew herself up proudly. "Major Murchison, are you not saying a little - too much in presuming to place me on the level of the adventuress you have - spoken of? I think it will be more consistent with my self-respect to - leave your question unanswered." - </p> - <p> - And then suddenly her proud mood vanished, and a softer one took its - place. Her voice trembled as she spoke; there was a suspicious moisture in - her eyes. - </p> - <p> - "I see that I was very wrong when I suffered Guy to persuade me to marry - him. I have alienated him from his friends and family, and, alas! I have - none of my own to bring him in exchange. His uncle loathes me; Lady Nina - is polite and tolerates me. And you—you, his old friend, who have - known him from boyhood—you dislike me also. But—" and here her - voice swelled into a proud note—"my husband loves and trusts me. - While he does that, Major Murchison, I can snap my fingers at the rest of - the world." - </p> - <p> - Murchison bowed respectfully; he felt he had got to recover a good deal of - lost ground. So far the woman had the advantage, but he did not fail to - notice the vulgarity of the last phrase, "snap my fingers." - </p> - <p> - "I am very sorry if I have offended you, Mrs. Spencer, by my indiscreet - remarks. If you are secure in Guy's love, as I am sure you are, you have a - very happy possession." - </p> - <p> - She sank back on the sofa, and in a second recovered the composure which - had been momentarily disturbed. - </p> - <p> - "Forgive me if I have spoken a little warmly," she said, "but I could not - overlook what you said just now." - </p> - <p> - And then Hugh shot at her his last bolt. "I have not yet told you the name - of the girl who drove my poor young friend Pomfret to his death." - </p> - <p> - "Tell it me, if you please, but I shall be no more likely to know it than - the name of your friend, Mr. Pomfret. As I told you, I am a member of the - respectable middle-class; I cannot boast that I am acquainted with the - aristocracy, except through my husband." - </p> - <p> - "And yet your father, you told me just now, was an officer in the - Twenty-fourth Lancers. Those officers were all recruited from the - aristocracy, or at worst the upper middle-class." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, you are trying to cross-examine me and trap me," she cried bitterly. - </p> - <p> - But Hugh was inexorable. "The name of that woman was Norah Burton; her - accomplice, her brother as she called him, was George Burton; he had other - aliases," he thundered. - </p> - <p> - He had shot his last bolt, but Stella was not shaken. She rose up, - quivering a little. He noticed that, but it might be due to the agitation - of wronged innocence. - </p> - <p> - "The name conveys nothing to me. Your attitude during these few minutes - has been very strange. You have insinuated that I am an adventuress on the - same level with your Miss Norah something. Well, so far, poor dear Guy has - not shot himself, and I will take good care he doesn't." - </p> - <p> - "You have much to gain by his living, if you love him—the title and - everything. I have no doubt he has made his will. You would gain a good - deal by his death. I cannot say, at the moment, which alternative would - suit you better." - </p> - <p> - "You are intolerable, you are insulting. If I tell my husband this when he - comes down, he will kick you out of the house." - </p> - <p> - "But I don't think you will tell your husband," retorted Hugh coolly. - </p> - <p> - "And why not? My word will outweigh yours. I have only to tell him that - you brand me as an adventuress, of the same class as this Miss Nora - Burton, and you will see what he will say." - </p> - <p> - "But you will not tell him," repeated Hugh. "Mrs. Spencer, I did not think - we should go so far as we have done. But I will put my cards on the table - at once, and I do so from certain indications in your demeanour to-night. - I will not say all I have in my mind; I am going to collect further - evidence first. But I will say this: you are not what you seem." He had - touched her now. Her calm had gone, her breast was heaving, her hands were - moving more restlessly. - </p> - <p> - "Put your cards on the table and have done. I was Stella Keane when I - married my husband. I defy you to disprove that." - </p> - <p> - "At present, no. You are the same Stella Keane who saw Tommie Esmond, a - discovered card-sharper, off at the Charing Cross Station, and kissed him - an affectionate farewell. If you were on such intimate terms with that - man, you are no fit wife for my friend Guy Spencer." - </p> - <p> - He had touched her at last. "How did you find that out?" she gasped, and - her face for a second went livid. She was surprised beyond the point of - denial. - </p> - <p> - And at that moment the door opened and Guy Spencer entered. She recovered - herself immediately; went up to her husband and laid a caressing hand on - his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - "A perfect tie, dearest; it was worth the time. Your friend, Major - Murchison, has been distressing me with a terrible story of some tragedy - that happened when he was quartered at Blankfield." - </p> - <p> - Guy Spencer smiled cheerfully. "Dear old Hugh is good at stories. He must - tell it me after dinner." - </p> - <p> - As she looked up into her husband's face, Hugh noticed the tender light in - her eyes. Lady Nina had said that if she was not devotedly in love with - Guy, she must be the most consummate actress off the stage. Loving wife or - consummate actress, which was she? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Hugh reflected - over that interview in the drawing-room before dinner, he came to the - conclusion that he had not played his cards very well, that he had been a - little too precipitate. Whether she was Norah Burton or not, she was a - very clever young woman, and he had just put her on her guard by that - rather indiscreet allusion to Tommy Esmond. If he had no further evidence - to go on than that incident, she would give her husband a plausible - explanation of it. And Hugh believed his old friend Guy was still deeply - in love enough with his wife to believe anything she told him. - </p> - <p> - He could imagine her telling that convincing story to Guy, probably with - her arms round his neck, and her pretty eyes looking up to his with the - love-light in them. Esmond had been a kind friend to her, had done her - many a good turn. Much as she deplored his baseness, she could not bear - the thought of his slinking out of the country, a branded fugitive, - without a forgiving hand stretched out to him. - </p> - <p> - Backwards and forwards he revolved the matter in his mind, till he came to - the conclusion that the problem was one he could not solve himself. And - then he suddenly thought of his old acquaintance, Davidson of Scotland - Yard, the tall man of military aspect who had arrested George Burton on - that memorable night at Rosemount. - </p> - <p> - He went round to Scotland Yard, presented his card, and inquired for Mr. - Davidson. His old acquaintance was dead; a man named Bryant had taken his - place. Would Major Murchison care to see him? - </p> - <p> - In a few seconds Hugh was ushered into Bryant's room. To his surprise and - relief Bryant was the man who had accompanied Davidson to Blankfield. It - was pretty certain he would recall to the minutest detail the - circumstances of that visit. - </p> - <p> - "Good-day, Mr. Bryant. You know my name by my card, of course, but I am - not so sure you remember anything of the time and place where we last - met." - </p> - <p> - But the detective was able to reassure him on this point. - </p> - <p> - "In our profession, sir, we remember everything and everybody, and we - never forget a face. It is some years ago, it is true, but I recall the - incidents of our meeting as if they had happened yesterday. Poor Davidson - and I came down to collar that slim rascal George Burton, who, by the way, - got off with a light sentence. Davidson saw you in the afternoon and gave - you the option of staying away. You talked it over, and came to the - conclusion that, for certain reasons, you would rather be in at the - finish. Those reasons were connected with your young friend Mr. Pomfret, - who was infatuated with the young woman." - </p> - <p> - "You remember everything as well as I do, Mr. Bryant. I must congratulate - you on your marvellous memory, for I suppose this is only one out of - hundreds of cases." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant smiled, well pleased at this tribute to his capacity. - </p> - <p> - "We cultivate our small gifts, sir, in this direction. Well, we took the - slim George. The girl fainted. You dragged Mr. Pomfret out of the house, - and he shot himself in the small hours of the morning. It came out that he - had married the young woman a day or two before, and could not face the - exposure." Hugh paid a second tribute to the detective's marvellous - memory. "And now, Mr. Bryant, have you any knowledge of what has become of - them? People like that are never quite submerged: some day or another, - like the scum they are, they will be found floating on the top again." - </p> - <p> - Bryant shook his head. "No, sir, I cannot say I have. They have not come - under our observation again. Probably they are abroad under assumed names, - engaged in rascally business, of course, but doing it very much <i>sub - rosa</i>." - </p> - <p> - "Mind you, at present I have very little to go on," said Hugh. "I may have - been deceived by a chance resemblance. But I have a strong intuition I am - on their track." - </p> - <p> - Bryant's attitude became alert at once. "You say you have no evidence. - well, tell me your suspicions, and I will tell you what weight I attach to - them." - </p> - <p> - "First of all, before I do that, let me know if you would recognise Norah - Burton and George Burton again, in spite of the passage of years. Norah - had fair hair; the one I am on the track of has dark hair. The man I have - not seen; this time he is a cousin, not a brother." - </p> - <p> - "Ah!" Mr. Bryant drew a deep breath. "If they are the people you think, - sir, and I once saw them, no disguises would take me in. Now tell me all - you know." - </p> - <p> - Thus exhorted, Murchison launched into a copious narrative. He explained - that on the night of the dinner with the Southleighs at Carlton House - Terrace, he had met for the first time the wife of his old friend Guy - Spencer, that he had detected in her an extraordinary likeness to Norah - Burton. The marriage had been hastily contracted; next to nothing was - known about the young woman's antecedents, apart from the very vague - details with which she furnished them. - </p> - <p> - In the background was a cousin, by all accounts a very common fellow, who - had never visited the house since the marriage. Then there was the episode - of Tommy Esmond being found cheating at cards at the L'Estrange flat, and - Stella Keane's farewell meeting with him at Charing Cross Station. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant made copious notes. When the narrative was finished he made his - comments. - </p> - <p> - "There are, of course, coincidences that may mean nothing or a great deal, - Major Murchison. However, assuming that the lady in question is not our - old friend Norah Burton, she is evidently not a very estimable member of - society. She was in a shady set at Mrs. L'Estrange's, and Tommy Esmond - must have been a pretty close pal." - </p> - <p> - "Well, I want you to take this case on for me, and find out what you can." - </p> - <p> - But Bryant shook his head. "Sorry, sir, but in my position I can't take on - private business. It is not a public matter, you see, unless you can - accuse them of anything." Hugh's face fell. "I forgot that. What am I to - do? Can you recommend me to a private detective?" - </p> - <p> - "Half a dozen, sir, all keen fellows. But you can't stir very much without - me, in the first instance. You want me to identify them. Well, I will go - so far as that, in memory of the time when we were together in the - original job. Mrs. Spencer, you say, lives in Eaton Place. I will keep a - watch on that house till I see her coming out or going in. If I agree that - she was Norah Burton, we have got the first step. Now, what do you know - about this cousin, Dutton?" - </p> - <p> - "Only that he is an outside stockbroker, with an office, or offices, in - the City." - </p> - <p> - "Good." Mr. Bryant opened a telephone book and rapidly turned over the - pages. "Here he is, right enough—George Dutton—George, mark - you—share- and stock-broker, Bartholomew Court. Well, sir, to oblige - you, I will run down to the City and get a peep at Mr. George Dutton. If - my recollection agrees with yours, I will put you on to one of my friends, - and you can have the precious pair watched. If they are the persons you - think they are, you may depend upon it they won't keep long apart; they - will make opportunities of meeting each other. Anyway, they must be pretty - thick together, or he would not put up with being excluded from the - house." - </p> - <p> - Hugh left with a great sense of relief. He felt that the matter was in - very capable hands. If Bryant told him that he was following a - will-o'-the-wisp, then the whole matter could drop. The fact of Mrs. - Spencer's relations with Tommy Esmond were hardly important enough to - justify him in disturbing his friend's domestic felicity. - </p> - <p> - At the end of three days the detective rang him up. The message was brief: - "Come and see me." - </p> - <p> - Bryant received him in his room. "Well, Major Murchison, your suspicions - are quite correct. I have been very close to the interesting pair. Mrs. - Spencer has camouflaged herself very well, but beyond doubt she is Norah - Burton. Our gaol-bird, George Burton, has been less particular. He has not - disguised himself at all; the few years have made little or no impression - on him. He has hid himself in the City, trusting that nobody he ever knew - would come across him." - </p> - <p> - "Then I was right, after all, Mr. Bryant. And now what would you advise me - to do? This woman is the worst type of adventuress card-sharper all - through—at least a confederate, in Paris with Burton, in London with - Tommy Esmond. To be fair, we cannot say how much or how little she knew of - his forgery business." - </p> - <p> - "Your idea is to turn her out of her husband's house, with or without - scandal?" queried the detective. - </p> - <p> - "Without scandal, if possible. I would prefer that. I suppose you would - back me up by saying that you have recognised her and this scoundrel who - was yesterday her brother and is to-day her cousin?" - </p> - <p> - "If you push me to it, I will, Major Murchison, for the sake of our old - acquaintance. But, for reasons which I stated last time we met, I don't - want to mix myself up in a purely private affair. The woman caught hold of - a fool in your friend Pomfret; she has caught hold of another equally - silly fool in your friend Mr. Spencer. Please forgive my blunt language, - but it is so, is it not?" - </p> - <p> - "You are quite right, Bryant," groaned poor Hugh. "I seem fated to be - mixed up in these matters. At the present moment I have a little stunt on, - in which I don't require any help. A younger brother of mine has got mixed - up with a young harpy in the chorus of a third-rate theatre. The young - fool has written compromising letters to her. I am trying to buy these - letters. I need hardly tell you she is asking a high price. I can't see - her at my own place, for fear of my brother popping in. I have taken rooms - in a suburb where I see her to carry on the bargaining." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant raised his hands. "Well, sir, when a woman once begins to twist - a man round her little finger there is no knowing to what length he will - go." - </p> - <p> - "Profoundly true, Mr. Bryant. Well, what do you advise me to do?" - </p> - <p> - "For the moment, nothing. Get a little more evidence. When I watched this - couple, I took my old friend Parkinson with me. He knows them now. Get him - to watch them. He will tell you where they meet, and how often. Here is - his card. He will wait on you at your convenience." - </p> - <p> - "I quite see," said Hugh, as he took the proffered card. "If I can prove - that they are meeting on the sly it will strengthen my hands, eh?" - </p> - <p> - "That is the idea. Of course, at the moment, I don't know which you are - going to tackle first, the husband or the wife." - </p> - <p> - "I can't say myself, my mind is in such a whirl. But I feel I must avenge - poor Jack Pomfret's death." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant rose. "You will excuse me, Major Murchison, but I have a very - busy day. Make use of Parkinson; he is as keen as mustard. And if it comes - to this, that you want me for purposes of identification, I am at your - disposal, in Eaton Place or elsewhere." - </p> - <p> - Murchison left, but not before he had pressed a substantial cheque into - Bryant's somewhat reluctant hand. - </p> - <p> - The next day he interviewed Parkinson, a lean, ascetic-looking man of the - true sleuth-hound breed. He took his instructions. - </p> - <p> - "Give me a fortnight, if you please, sir; a week is hardly long enough. - I'll warrant, from what our friend Bryant has hinted to me, I will have - something to report." - </p> - <p> - And he had. At the end of the fortnight he appeared. He produced a small - pocket-book. - </p> - <p> - "I'm glad you didn't stipulate for only a week, sir; it was rather a blank - one—only one meeting. I expect the lady couldn't get away - comfortably. But the week after I was rewarded. Three meetings in that - second week." - </p> - <p> - "Ah! where do they meet?" - </p> - <p> - "At quite humble little restaurants and queer places in the City. I fancy - the bucket-shop business is not very flourishing just now. For on the last - two occasions when I followed them in, and sat at a table where I could - observe them, I saw Mrs. Spencer slip an envelope into his hand." - </p> - <p> - "Good Heavens!" cried Murchison in a tone of disgust. "She is keeping this - criminal with her husband's money." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parkinson shrugged his shoulders. "A common enough case, sir, if you - had seen as much of life as I have." - </p> - <p> - Hugh shuddered. The woman was depraved to the core. She could leave her - house in Eaton Place, where she had been installed by her devoted and - trustful husband, and journey down to some obscure eating-house in the - City to meet this criminal who lived upon her bounty. - </p> - <p> - Well, the chain of evidence was complete. Bryant would swear to the - identification, and Parkinson would swear that Mrs. Guy Spencer, once - Norah Burton, had met George Burton clandestinely four times in a - fortnight, and had supplied him with money. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was in his - blackest and most grim mood that Hugh Murchison walked to Eaton Place, for - the purpose of paying an afternoon call upon Mrs. Spencer. He had not been - near her since the night of the dinner, had only left cards. And, very - fortunately, he had not come across Guy in the interval. - </p> - <p> - On that particular night he had reproached himself with indiscretion. He - had availed himself of Fairfax's information to tax her with meeting - Tommie Esmond at Charing Cross Station on the morning of his flight to the - Continent. - </p> - <p> - And at the moment that he had made that dramatic announcement, the - drawing-room door had opened to admit the unsuspecting husband. Hugh had - left shortly after dinner, on the plea of another engagement. Had Mrs. - Spencer tried to take the wind out of his sails by volunteering some - plausible explanation about her meeting with Esmond? She was a clever - young woman; she might try to forestall him. On the other hand, she might - sit tight till he forced her hand. Anyway, he was going to force it - to-day, armed with the new evidence that had been furnished to him. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer was not looking well. Her eyes had lost their brightness, her - once charming smile was forced and mechanical. - </p> - <p> - She rose as he was announced, and advanced to him with outstretched hands, - with an exaggerated air of cordiality. - </p> - <p> - "I thought you had forgotten us." She seated herself on the Chesterfield - and motioned him to sit beside her. "Major Murchison, I fear I was a - little rude to you the other night, you remember, just before Guy came - in." She clasped her hands nervously together. "I do trust we are going to - be friends." - </p> - <p> - Hugh looked at her grimly. He had no compassion for this shameless - adventuress who had driven the poor foolish Pomfret to his grave, who had - ensnared Guy Spencer, a man of stronger fibre, but equally powerless in - the hands of an unscrupulous woman. - </p> - <p> - "Mrs. Spencer—to call you by one of the many names by which you are - known—we were not friends the last time I was at this house. To-day - we are bitter enemies." - </p> - <p> - "What do you mean?" she faltered. "You are speaking in riddles. Why should - you, the old friend of my husband, be the bitter enemy of his innocent - wife?" - </p> - <p> - "His innocent wife!" repeated Hugh sternly. "Dare you look me in the face - and say that my name, even if you fail to recognise me after these years, - does not recall to you certain tragic episodes at Blankfield?" - </p> - <p> - "I know nothing of Blankfield." The voice was low but very unsteady. "You - put that question to me the other night in a roundabout sort of way. My - answer is the same—I know nothing of Blankfield." - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause. Hugh continued to look at her with his steady and - disconcerting gaze. Suddenly she rose, and paced restlessly up and down - the long drawing-room. - </p> - <p> - "Major Murchison, put your cards on the table. You have come into this - house, an old friend of my husband's; I have done my best to make you - welcome. But you have some spite against me. Of what do you accuse me?" - </p> - <p> - "I will put my cards on the table," answered Hugh in his inflexible voice. - "On the night I met you at Carlton House Terrace I had my suspicions; no - two women could be so exactly alike. Since that night I have been picking - up information here and there. I have now got a complete chain of - evidence." - </p> - <p> - "Evidence of what?" she gasped, still pursuing her restless walk up and - down the room. "Of my having met Tommie Esmond at Charing Cross Station? - would you like to hear the true history of that?" - </p> - <p> - "I shall be pleased to hear any explanation you like to offer, with the - reservation that I must please myself as to whether I accept it or not." - </p> - <p> - "You are very hard, Major Murchison. As you are not prepared to believe - me, perhaps it would be better if I did not embark on this history. But - Tommie Esmond is really my uncle, my mother's brother. When I was in low - water he was very kind to me. I could not turn my back on him in his - distress." She spoke with sudden passion. "Of course, you, with your - pharisaical way of looking at things, would say I should have forgotten - all his previous kindness." - </p> - <p> - "The Tommie Esmond affair is, comparatively, a trivial one, Mrs. Spencer. - I am coming in a moment to graver issues. You still say that the name of - Murchison conveys nothing to you. Oh, think well before you answer! - Remember, I have told you I have overwhelming evidence. And, believe me, - the task I have set out upon is far from a welcome one." - </p> - <p> - "I still say that the name of Murchison conveys nothing to me." She spoke - with a certain air of assurance, but he could see that she was quivering - all over. - </p> - <p> - "Carry your memory back to that night at Blankfield when your so-called - brother, George Burton, was arrested on a charge of forgery. You had been - his decoy and accomplice in a gambling saloon in Paris. You had inveigled - my poor friend, Jack Pomfret, into a clandestine marriage a few days - before. Jack, unable to survive his folly and disgrace, blew his brains - out. If not in the eyes of the law, you were, morally, a murderess." - </p> - <p> - "You are mad, raving mad!" she cried, but her voice seemed strangled as - she made the bold denial. - </p> - <p> - "Not mad, Mrs. Spencer, but very sane, as I will show you in a few - seconds. As I told you, I recognised you that night at the South-leigh - dinner-party, in spite of the pains you had taken to camouflage yourself. - But I waited for corroborative evidence. The detective who arrested your - so-called brother, George Burton, has seen you and is prepared to swear to - your identity as Norah Burton." - </p> - <p> - Then suddenly she gave way, fell on her knees before him, and stretched - out appealing hands. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, you are very clever; I see you have found it all out. But you will be - merciful, you will not drive an unhappy woman to despair, just when she - has got into safe harbour. Will you be kind enough to listen to my - miserable history?" - </p> - <p> - "I will listen to anything you have got to say." - </p> - <p> - "My childhood and girlhood were most wretched and unhappy. At a time when - most girls are tasting the sweets and joys of life, I had to live by my - wits. I fell under the influence of a good-natured, but very wicked man." - </p> - <p> - "In other words, George Burton?" queried Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "In other words, George Burton," she repeated in the low, strangled voice - that did not move Hugh very much. "I was starving when he met me and took - me up. He was genuinely sorry for me. Mind you, I knew nothing of his - nefarious schemes. He hid those very carefully away from me." - </p> - <p> - "But you were his decoy, if not his confederate, in the gambling saloon in - Paris?" - </p> - <p> - "His decoy, perhaps, unconsciously, but never his confederate." - </p> - <p> - "And when did Tommie Esmond appear on the scene?" queried Hugh. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, much later. George got into low water and had not enough for himself. - I then hunted up my uncle, who received me with open arms." - </p> - <p> - Hugh was developing the instincts of a crossexaminer. "And Tommie Esmond, - I suppose, introduced you to the card-sharping crew at the Elsinore flat, - and you were launched as the cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, who presided over - this delectable establishment?" - </p> - <p> - "I was a distant cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange on my dear mother's side," was - the answer. - </p> - <p> - She was lying terribly, he felt assured. But he had a card or two up his - sleeve yet. Still, it was wise to see how far she would go. - </p> - <p> - "And when did you part with the so-called brother, George Burton?" - </p> - <p> - "Oh, very shortly after he came out of prison. I had one interview with - him; I could not do less after his kindness to me. And in the meantime I - had hunted up poor old Tommie Esmond." - </p> - <p> - "And what did you do after that night at Blankfield? I think you cleared - out the next day. I heard you had paid everything up." - </p> - <p> - "Thank Heaven, yes. There was just a little money left. My life after that - was a nightmare. Amongst other humiliations, I was a waitress in a - tea-shop." A smile of vanity broke over the charming face. "The wages were - very small, but I got a lot of tips." Perhaps in this particular instance - she was not lying, if it was true that she had been in a tea-shop at all. - </p> - <p> - There was a little pause, and then Murchison spoke in his stern, - inflexible voice: - </p> - <p> - "And how long is it since you saw George Burton?" - </p> - <p> - She had answered the question before, but he was hoping to entrap her into - some unguarded admission. He could see that she was considerably thrown - oft her balance, clever and ready as she was, by the extent of his - knowledge. - </p> - <p> - "I told you just now, soon after he came out of prison." - </p> - <p> - And then Hugh rose in his wrath. And then she, seeing in his face that he - had another and a stronger card to play, got up from her kneeling position - and watched him with an agonised countenance. - </p> - <p> - "I am sorry to use such harsh words to a woman, even such a woman as you - are, Mrs. Spencer. But when you say that you are lying miserably, and you - know it as well as I do." Her face went livid. She assumed a tone of - indignation, but her voice died away in a sob. "How dare you say that?" - </p> - <p> - "I am not the sort of man to make a statement unless I can prove it up to - the hilt. Your so-called cousin, George Dutton, keeps a bucket-shop in the - City; from certain evidence in my possession, I should say it was not a - very paying business." - </p> - <p> - Stella did not attempt to reply to this last shot, but she recognised that - he had gone about the business very thoroughly. - </p> - <p> - "George Dutton, the bucket-shop keeper, is George Burton, the forger, come - to life again, still, I take it, on the same criminal tack, perhaps in a - lesser degree. Do you admit," he cried vehemently, "that George Burton and - George Dutton are one and the same?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, since you seem to have proof, I admit it," was the somewhat sullen - answer. - </p> - <p> - "That is as well; it clears the ground, up to a certain point. You say you - parted from Burton soon after his release from prison, and have not seen - him since. When was that—how long ago? You met him frequently as - George Dutton at Elsinore Gardens." - </p> - <p> - The courage of despair seemed to come to her, and she ceased to tremble. - "I will answer no more questions. Tell me what you allege and I will admit - or deny. Of course, you have employed a detective; you have had me - watched." - </p> - <p> - "Of course. I should not presume to cope single-handed with a clever woman - like yourself. You have met George Dutton, alias George Burton, four times - within the last fortnight at obscure restaurants in the City, and there is - a strong presumption that you were handing to him envelopes containing - money." - </p> - <p> - She seemed now to recognise that the game was up. Her self-possession - returned to her. She sat down, and motioned to him to seat himself. - </p> - <p> - "You are much too clever for me, Major Murchison. You have handled the - matter very well, so well that you have turned your vague suspicions into - absolute certainty. Well, what action are you going to take? As a matter - of course, you intend to turn me out of my husband's house?" - </p> - <p> - "If not at the moment, very speedily. You will admit, I think, with your - clever brain, that you should not remain under the roof of such an - honourable English, gentleman as he is a day longer than necessary." - </p> - <p> - "I will admit it, from your point of view, if you like. Oh, believe me, I - can see your side," replied this remarkable young woman. "But you will - forgive me, Major Murchison, if I say that, from my point of view, I would - have preferred that you had never been born. Guy is very happy; he - believes in me and trusts me. It will be a great blow to him as to me." - </p> - <p> - "I know. I wish it were in my power to spare him this misery. But, in - common honesty, I cannot." - </p> - <p> - "And have you thought of what is to become of me when I am turned out of - my husband's house?" she inquired in a composed voice. Her adroit mind had - evidently adapted itself to the altered circumstances, and was now busied - in turning them, as far as possible, to her own advantage. - </p> - <p> - "You have George Dutton to fall back upon, also Tommie Esmond," was - Murchison's retort. - </p> - <p> - She snapped her fingers in a fashion that was almost vulgar, and she was - so free from vulgar actions. - </p> - <p> - "George is thankful that I can, from time to time, fling him a ten-pound - note; his luck has deserted him. Tommie Esmond, I believe, saved a bit out - of the wreck, but he has not more than enough to keep body and soul - together." - </p> - <p> - "Guy is not a man to behave ungenerously, however deeply he has been - wronged," said Hugh, after he had reflected a few moments. He added more - hesitatingly, "And if Guy should take an obdurate attitude, it is possible - I might come to your assistance. I have hunted you down, but I do not want - to drive you into the gutter." - </p> - <p> - "But a man must support his wife, even if her past has not been quite so - respectable as it might have been," she cried defiantly. - </p> - <p> - Hugh directed upon her a searching look. "Mrs. Spencer, it is in my mind - that you may not be Guy's wife after all. If I probed a little deeper, I - might get at your real relations with this George Dutton, or rather - Burton." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, this time you are really pursuing a will-o'-the-wisp, I assure you. - George has never been anything to me but brother or cousin, as the - occasion demanded." - </p> - <p> - She paused a second, and there was a terrified look in her eyes as she - added, "But even if your suspicions were correct, which they are not, you - would not go back from your own promise. If Guy proved obdurate, you would - not drive me to the gutter. You promised me that." - </p> - <p> - "I shall keep my promise, Mrs. Spencer, and I will give it you in writing, - if you wish." - </p> - <p> - "It would be as well. And you will want something from me in writing also, - I expect," she concluded shrewdly. - </p> - <p> - "Certainly I shall," said Hugh steadily. "I shall draw up a full - confession for you to sign, to prevent you from ever troubling your - husband again—if, as I suggested just now, he is your husband." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Spencer rose. It seemed that there was a sense of relief in the fact - that the interview was ending so amicably. - </p> - <p> - "I would have preferred to remain as I am, but, on the whole, the life - doesn't suit me, luxurious as it is. I am very fond of Guy really, he has - been so good to me, but I have alienated him from his friends. And I have - to sit here hour after hour by myself, with only my thoughts for company." - </p> - <p> - "Let us say one week from now I will have that confession ready to sign." - </p> - <p> - "And you will bring it here?" suggested Stella. - </p> - <p> - "I think not. It will take some time to read through, and we might be - interrupted," was Hugh's answer. - </p> - <p> - "At your hotel, then, I suppose?" was the young woman's next suggestion. - </p> - <p> - "The same objection applies." - </p> - <p> - He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper. "Meet me there this day - week at the hour I have appointed. Nobody will interrupt us, I will take - care of that." - </p> - <p> - And Mrs. Spencer lay awake half the night, working out a problem that had - suggested itself to her in a flash. - </p> - <p> - The next day she lunched with George Dutton in the City. The detective - might be watching her, but did it matter? whatever happened at the end of - the week, she had burned her boats. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>wo months had - elapsed since the meeting between Major Murchison and Stella Spencer, - recorded in the last chapter. - </p> - <p> - A handsome, well-set-up man of about thirty was travelling up from - Manchester to London. The reason of his journey was his desire to visit - his sister, Caroline Masters, who occupied a small flat in the - neighbourhood of King's Cross. - </p> - <p> - Up to a short time ago this handsome, well-set-up man had been leading a - very quiet life in the busy city of Manchester. He was an electrician by - trade, and a very clever one. He was civil, well-spoken, intelligent - beyond his station, but he had not forgathered much with his - fellow-workers, had kept himself very much to himself. And yet, strange to - say, this self-isolation had not provoked suspicion or resentment on the - part of his daily associates. - </p> - <p> - Reginald Davis, for such was his name, had been unjustly suspected of - murder, and the police had been hot on his track. Then had come the - suicide in No. 10 Cathcart Square, and his sister, Caroline Masters, had - identified the dead body as that of her brother. - </p> - <p> - Caroline Masters had always been a plucky, resourceful girl, and devoted - to him. The dead man, no doubt, bore some resemblance to himself, and she - had taken advantage of the opportunity to swear to a false identification, - and remove from him the sleepless vigilance of the police. This much she - had conveyed to him in a guarded letter. - </p> - <p> - Reginald Davis, the man falsely accused of murder, was dead in the eyes of - the law: in a sense, he had nothing further to fear. But at the same time, - caution must be observed. The few friends he had were in London; at any - time he might run across one or more of them. So, taking another name, he - had hidden himself in Manchester, and corresponded secretly with the one - of the two sisters he could trust, Caroline Masters. - </p> - <p> - And then, suddenly, the burden had been lifted from his soul. There was a - small paragraph in the evening newspapers, afterwards reproduced in the - morning ones, which told him that he need not skulk through the world any - longer. - </p> - <p> - A man lying under sentence of death for a brutal murder and without hope - of reprieve, had confessed to the crime of which Davis had been falsely - accused. In the paragraph, which was, of course, essentially the same in - all the papers, were a few words of sympathy for the unfortunate Reginald - Davis who had stolen into No. 10 Cathcart Square and committed suicide, - under a sense of abject terror. The police had carefully investigated the - statements of the condemned man, with the result that they found the late - Reginald Davis absolutely innocent. - </p> - <p> - The late Reginald Davis, very alive and well, knocked at the door of his - sister's flat. She had been apprised of his coming, and greeted him - affectionately. She sat him down before a well-cooked supper. He was - hungry and ate heartily. She did not disturb him with much conversation - till he had finished. Then she spoke. - </p> - <p> - "Well, Reggie, that was a bit of luck indeed." She was, of course, - alluding to the confession of the real murderer. "Now you are as free as - air. You were always a bit of a bad egg, old boy, but never a criminal to - that extent." - </p> - <p> - "No, hang it all, I am not particular in a general way, but murder was not - in my line," he answered briefly. "It was hard lines to get scot-free of - the other things, and then to be suspected of that at the end." - </p> - <p> - He looked at her admiringly. "By Jove! Carrie, you were always the - cleverest of the lot of us. That was a brain-wave of yours, walking in and - identifying me as the suicide." Mrs. Masters smiled appreciatively. "Yes, - it came to me in a flash. I read the account in the papers. It struck me I - might do something useful. I went up to the court with the tale of a - missing brother. I saw the body; the poor creature might have been your - twin. Of course, I swore it was you, and gave you a new lease of life." - She added severely, "I hope you have taken advantage of what I did, and - become a reformed character." Davis spoke very gravely. "Yes, Carrie, I - swear to you I have. That shock was the making of me. I have lain very - low, worked hard, and put by money." - </p> - <p> - He pulled out an envelope from his breastpocket, and thrust it into her - hand; it was full of one-pound notes. - </p> - <p> - "Fifty of the best, old girl, for a little nest-egg. I have not forgotten - my best pal, you see." - </p> - <p> - The tears came into Mrs. Masters' eyes. He had been a bad egg, but he had - a good heart at bottom. - </p> - <p> - "That is very sweet of you, Reggie; it will come in very useful. And now - to go back for a moment to Cathart Square. Who was the poor devil who - killed himself there? He was as like you as two peas are like each other." - </p> - <p> - "I think we have got to find that out," said Reginald Davis gravely. "Nor, - reading the account in the papers, am I quite sure that it was a suicide." - </p> - <p> - "But that was the verdict," interrupted the sister. - </p> - <p> - "I know, but there are peculiar things about the case. Letters addressed - to Reginald Davis were found on him; there was a letter signed Reginald - Davis, addressed to the Coroner, announcing his intention to commit - suicide. Those letters had been placed there by the person who murdered - him, and that person who murdered him was somebody who knew me, unless it - was the accidental taking of a common name." - </p> - <p> - "But the razor was clutched in his hand, Reggie!" - </p> - <p> - "Quite easy," replied Davis, who, if not a murderer himself, could easily - project himself, apparently, into the mind of one. "We will assume, for - the moment, it was a man. He cut the poor devil's throat, and then thrust - the razor into his stiffening hand, to convey the idea of suicide." - </p> - <p> - "It might be," agreed Mrs. Masters. - </p> - <p> - "Well, Carrie, one thing I have fixed on, and it is one of the things for - which I have come up. I go to Scotland Yard to-morrow, tell them straight - I am Reginald Davis, without a stain upon my character, explain to them - that you were misled by a close resemblance. We will have that body - exhumed. I am firmly convinced it was a murder." - </p> - <p> - "Let sleeping dogs lie, Reggie," advised Mrs. Masters, who had a horror of - the law and its subtle ways. "Never mind who was the poor devil who was - found there, whether he was murdered or committed suicide. It is no affair - of yours." - </p> - <p> - "It is an affair of mine in this way," replied Davis in a dogged tone. - "The person who murdered the poor devil, as you call him, knew something - about me, and took a liberty with my name." - </p> - <p> - "It served you a good turn, Reggie, anyway." - </p> - <p> - "I know; I admit that. But the murderer did not know he was doing me, - thanks to you, a good turn when he killed the other fellow." - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Masters thought deeply for a few moments. "Reggie, you have been a - very bad egg, I am sure. I shall never guess a quarter of what you have - been guilty of." - </p> - <p> - He laid his hand affectionately on her arm. "Well for you, old girl, you - can't. That is all past and done with. By the way, that letter found on - the poor chap, announcing his intention to commit suicide, did they ask - you to identify my handwriting? Of course, the others addressed to him - didn't matter much. Anybody could have written them. But my letter was a - forgery. Did they ask you to identify that particular letter?" - </p> - <p> - "They did, Reggie, and my brain was in such a whirl that I could hardly - read it. I said that I believed it was in your handwriting. It was - certainly very like, although, as you can imagine, I looked at it through - a sort of mist. Anyway, it was as like your handwriting as the dead man - was like you." Davis ruminated for a few moments. "That letter was forged - by somebody who knew me and could imitate my hand to a nicety. I am - thinking of all the wrong'uns I knew in the old days. I think I can fix - him." - </p> - <p> - "Yes," said Mrs. Masters breathlessly. She was capable of great daring in - the cause and the service of those she loved, but she was not habituated - to the ways of hardened criminals. - </p> - <p> - "A man I was a bit associated with in the old days; luckily he didn't drag - me in far enough. He was an expert forger. We used to call him 'George the - Penman.'" - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Masters shuddered. "Oh, you poor weak soul, you were so near it as - that?" - </p> - <p> - "Very near, Carrie. The shock of the false accusation of murder pulled me - up straight. I saw where I was drifting, and made up my mind that the - straight path was the surest." At the moment that Mr. Davis gave utterance - to this honourable sentiment there was a ring at the bell. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Masters rose at once. "It is Iris. I dropped her a note to say you - were coming. She will be so pleased to see you." - </p> - <p> - There floated into the small sitting-room a very dainty and ethereal - figure, Miss Iris Deane, a charming member of the chorus at the Frivolity - Theatre. - </p> - <p> - She flung her arms round the neck of her handsome brother. "Oh Reggie, - dear, what a treat to see you! And all this dreadful thing is lifted from - you." - </p> - <p> - Iris was not his favourite sister. She was clever in a worldly way, and - had made good. But she had not the sterling loyalty of Caroline. - </p> - <p> - Davis gently checked her enthusiasm. "And how have you been getting on, - Iris? Always floating on the top as usual?" - </p> - <p> - Miss Iris showed her dimples. "Always floating on the top, as you say, - dear old boy. A silly, soft chap fell in love with me; wrote most - impassioned love-letters. Well, he was too soppy for me to care much about - him, and when his rich brother came along, offering me a price for his - love-letters, I can tell you I just jumped at the chance." - </p> - <p> - "Did you get a good price?" queried her brother. - </p> - <p> - "I stuck out for ten thousand," explained the capable Iris; "but this chap - was a good bargainer, and I let them go at seven. It was better on the - whole. If I had married Roddie, I should have been so fed-up in a month - that I should have run away from him, and then Heaven knows where I might - have ended." - </p> - <p> - Davis looked at his sister approvingly. There was enough of the old Adam - left in him to entertain a slight envy of his sister's chances. Seven - thousand pounds, a little fortune in itself, was a good bit of work, a - handsome reward for the display of her dimples. - </p> - <p> - "Roddie who, dear? You might tell us his other name," queried Mrs. - Masters, who perhaps was also smitten with a sense of envy. - </p> - <p> - "That's telling," answered the sprightly Iris, who was not given to be too - frank about her own affairs. "But if either of you two dear things want a - little ready, apply to me. Of course, you will remember I have got to take - care of myself, to make provision for my old age." - </p> - <p> - Davis and Carrie exchanged glances. They knew the volatile Iris of old. As - a child she had always been mean and grasping. Not much of the seven - thousand would come their way, if they were on the verge of starvation. - </p> - <p> - Carrie spoke in cold accents. "You are really too generous, Iris. But we - shall not have to trespass upon your generosity. I have enough for my - humble wants. And Reggie has been able to put by, so much so that he has - been kind enough to make me a very handsome money present to-night." - </p> - <p> - "Dear old Reggie," said the sweetly smiling Iris. "I am so glad you have - made good." - </p> - <p> - And then Davis spoke: "Thanks, in great part, to Carrie, who told that - splendid lie about the suicide, or murder, at 10 Cathcart Square. You - remember that, of course?" - </p> - <p> - "Suicide, wasn't it?" said Iris, but her cheek had grown a little pale. - </p> - <p> - "I don't think so. There was a forged letter purporting to be written by - me. I am going to Scotland Yard to-morrow, stating frankly who I am, and - urging them to exhume the body. We will find out who the man, buried under - the name of Reginald Davis, really was." - </p> - <p> - And then the agitation of his younger sister became extreme. She clutched - convulsively at his arm. - </p> - <p> - "Reggie, you will not do this. What does it matter to you who the man was? - Go under some other name, and let sleeping dogs lie." Unconsciously she - had used the same expression as Mrs. Masters, but from different motives. - </p> - <p> - "I have been under a different name for a longer time than I care to - remember," answered Davis doggedly. "I have a fancy to resume my own, and - make a clean breast of it to the police. They have nothing else to charge - me with." - </p> - <p> - Iris fell on her knees, and the tears rained down her cheeks. - </p> - <p> - "For my sake, Reggie, if not for your own." - </p> - <p> - "And why for your sake? Tell us what you mean," demanded her brother - sternly. - </p> - <p> - And Iris spoke as clearly as she could speak amidst her strangled sobs. - </p> - <p> - "If you try and unearth that mystery at Cathcart Square, I might be - dragged in, and it might be very awkward for me." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>avis directed a - keen glance at his elder sister over the bowed head of Iris. The younger - woman was by no means of an emotional nature. Light, frivolous and - volatile, she had danced through life, and, on the whole, had had a good - time. One could not picture her in a tragic mood. - </p> - <p> - And yet, she was the personification of deep emotion now. She could hardly - speak for those convulsive sobs, and in her frightened eyes there was a - deep and haunting terror. At what point, and through what circumstances, - had tragedy touched this little selfish, self-centred butterfly, gifted - with a certain amount of cunning and sharpness, but utterly brainless. - </p> - <p> - "What do you know of No. 10 Cathcart Square, except what you gleaned from - the newspapers?" demanded her brother sternly. "How can you be implicated - in the murder of the unknown man whom Carrie mistook for me?" - </p> - <p> - "But Carrie did not mistake him for you," wailed Iris. "She told me - afterwards that the idea suggested itself in a flash, and when she read - the newspaper she was not sure whether it was you who had crept in there, - according to the evidence, and made away with yourself, through fear of - the police." - </p> - <p> - "Leave Carrie out of it for the moment," said Davis. "Whatever she did was - well thought out. Of course, we both know her object was to identify me, - if possible, and put Scotland Yard off the scent. What we want to know is, - how did you come to be acquainted with the house? what do you mean by - saying that, if further investigations are made, you might be dragged in?" - </p> - <p> - "I was there on four occasions: on the last a few days before the murder, - or suicide, whatever it was." - </p> - <p> - Davis gasped, and Carrie lifted her hands in horror. What did this - confession mean? It was impossible that this slim, weak girl had herself - been the murderess, could have killed a big, powerful man of the same - build as the supposed Davis, with those slim, weak hands. - </p> - <p> - She saw the horror in their faces, and hastened to reassure them. "Oh no, - not that, I swear to you. I am no more a murderess than you were a - murderer, Reggie. But if the whole thing is raked up, and the man whom I - believe it to be, accurately identified this time, things might look very - black for me." - </p> - <p> - Davis lifted her from her kneeling position, and placed her in an - easy-chair. "Calm yourself, and tell us the whole story of why and how you - came to be in Cathcart Square at all." - </p> - <p> - Iris waited a few moments till the convulsive sobbing ceased. She spoke - with little occasional gasps, but it was very evident it was a relief to - unbosom herself. - </p> - <p> - "It is a very long story," she began tremulously. - </p> - <p> - "If the telling of it lasts till midnight, we must have it," said her - brother in an inflexible voice. - </p> - <p> - And compelled by his resolute manner, the girl, whom they had always - regarded as a frivolous butterfly, embarked upon her strange and thrilling - narrative. - </p> - <p> - "It all arose out of the sale of those letters I spoke to you about. - Carrie just now asked me the name of the man who wrote them. Well, I - didn't get further than Roddie, which doesn't carry you very far. If it - had not been for your threat of going to Scotland Yard, I should have - stopped at that. A still tongue makes a wise head, you know." - </p> - <p> - They could quite believe that. In spite of her ceaseless chatter, Iris had - always been very reticent about her own affairs. She had seen next to - nothing of her brother for a few years, not very much of Carrie Masters. - And, on these occasions, she had always avoided, in a marked manner, any - allusion to her private affairs. - </p> - <p> - "I told you of a soppy young chap who started to make love to me last - year. I didn't care a snap for him, but he was very persistent, and at - last wrote me most urgent letters imploring me to be his wife. His full - name was Roderick Murchison, a member of the great brewing family; his - father has been dead for some time, he died during the war, and Roddie - came in for tons of money, although he was not the eldest son. I don't - know if you have ever heard of him?" - </p> - <p> - No, neither Davis nor Carrie had known of the existence of such a young - man. They had a hazy idea that there was a big brewing firm of that name, - that was all. - </p> - <p> - "Well, as I say, I didn't care a snap for him, although he was awfully - good and generous, overwhelmed me with, all kinds of lovely presents: - rings, bracelets, fur coats, etc. In our life, you know, one accepts these - things from the mugs who are gone on us without attaching very much - importance to the fact." - </p> - <p> - It was evident that Miss Iris had struck out her own line of life, and - made a very good thing out of it. - </p> - <p> - "Well, then, Roddie began to grow desperate, and declared he couldn't live - without me. It was all so genuine that at last I began to think seriously - of it. There were tons of money, and although I didn't cotton much to the - sort of life I should have to lead as his wife, still there were worse - things than being Mrs. Roderick Murchison, with the future well assured, - and a handsome settlement." - </p> - <p> - Davis and his elder sister exchanged wondering glances. So this butterfly - little girl, whom they had always regarded as rather shallow and - feather-brained, had had this wonderful chance of marrying a gentleman and - a rich man. - </p> - <p> - "It was difficult to bring myself up to the scratch, in spite of the - advantages, for he was so soft and soppy that he irritated me in a - thousand-and-one ways, and I knew in a very short time I should grow to - hate and despise him. Then one night, after a very excellent champagne - supper at the 'Excelsior,' he got me in a yielding mood, and I promised to - marry him." - </p> - <p> - Brother and sister could only marvel at the girl's extraordinary good - fortune, reluctant as she seemed to avail herself of it. - </p> - <p> - "He told me that before he went to bed that night he wrote to his family - acquainting them with the news, anticipating fully their objections, but - expressing his strong determination to brook no interference or - remonstrance. You see he was his own master, nobody could take his money - away from him, and he didn't care whether his relatives were offended or - not." - </p> - <p> - "And how did the family take it?" queried Davis. - </p> - <p> - "I am coming to that," replied Iris. She was growing much calmer now. It - was a relief to unburden her secret to an audience whom she could trust. - For she was sure that neither her brother nor sister would ever allow her - to put herself into real danger. - </p> - <p> - "I am coming to that," she repeated. "A few days after he had written - those letters, one to his widowed mother, one to his elder brother, who - had inherited the bulk of the big fortune, the elder brother called upon - me in my flat. He was a very handsome, well-set-up man, although he had - been through a good deal in the war. He was very like you, Reggie." - </p> - <p> - "Ah," ejaculated Mr. Davis. He looked at Carrie, keenly watching her - sister, with a glance that suggested they would soon be coming to the real - pith of this rambling confession. - </p> - <p> - "He begged the favour of a short conversation. He was perfectly open and - above-board. He told me straight he was Roddie's elder brother, and that - his name was Hugh Murchison. He pointed out to me very kindly that his - brother was an impetuous young ass—a judgment which I privately - endorsed—that Roddie had been infatuated, in his short day, with - quite a number of other girls, although, perhaps, not to the same extent - as with me." Iris, getting back rapidly into her light mind, let her - volatile and easily impressed nature peep out in her next words. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, Hugh Murchison was a darling, so quiet, so sensible, and so strong. - If he had been fool enough to ask me to marry him, I would not have given - him up for seven thousand pounds." - </p> - <p> - "But you were prepared to chuck Roddie for that?" suggested her brother - quietly. - </p> - <p> - "I think I let him go a bit too cheap," answered the fair Iris in a - reflective voice. "Many girls have got more than I asked for compromising - a breach of promise. But to tell the absolute truth, Hugh Murchison - hypnotised me a bit. He was so quiet and yet so strong that I felt he - could twist me round his little finger." - </p> - <p> - "We want to get to Cathcart Square," interjected Davis a little - impatiently. "We don't seem to be near it yet." - </p> - <p> - "I must tell my story my own way, it is no use driving me," replied Iris, - pouting a little. "Well, as I tell you, he called that day at my flat—that - was the beginning of negotiations. Where were we to meet to discuss - details? I couldn't have him at my flat, because Roddie was always popping - in and out. He couldn't have me at his hotel, because nobody knew whom we - might come across, and Roddie was always coming there. He said he would - think out a plan and telephone or wire me." - </p> - <p> - "Ah," said Carrie, with a sigh of relief: she was a very practical person. - "Now, I suppose we are coming to it." - </p> - <p> - Iris, heedless of the interruption, went on with her story. - </p> - <p> - "Next day he 'phoned me up, and after ascertaining that I was quite alone, - told me to meet him at 10 Cathcart Square to resume our conversation." - </p> - <p> - "Why, in the name of all that is wonderful——" began Reginald - Davis, but his sister motioned him to silence. - </p> - <p> - "Don't interrupt, please, you will know everything in a few minutes. I - went to No. 10 Cathcart Square at the time appointed. He opened the door - himself. It was a big house in an old-fashioned square, ages old, I should - say, and in the front court was an agent's board, intimating that this - particular house was to let, furnished." - </p> - <p> - "I know Cathcart Square well, it's in an old-world quarter of Kensington," - interrupted Davis. He added grimly, "I know it well, although I did not - have the misfortune to commit suicide there." - </p> - <p> - "He told me a very funny story. The afternoon of the day before, he had - been up to Kensington to visit an old nurse of the family who lived near - by. He had strolled round to Cathcart Square to fill up an idle half-hour. - He had been struck by the appearance of the house, and loitered before it, - when suddenly the door opened, and a somewhat bibulous-looking caretaker - came out." - </p> - <p> - Davis indulged in a sigh of relief. "We are really coming to it now, - then?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, you are coming to it. He told me a sudden idea had occurred to him. - Here would be a quiet little spot for our meetings, a place where Roddie - would never dream of following us. He accosted the caretaker, evidently a - drunken and corrupt creature. He explained that he wanted to rent a couple - of rooms where he could receive a certain visitor he was expecting in the - course of the next week or fortnight. It was no use going to the house - agents for that, they would turn down such a proposition. The caretaker, - with a couple of five-pound notes in his hand, took an intelligent view of - the situation. He gave Hugh a key, and intimated that, if he had - sufficient notice, he would make himself scarce on the occasions when the - visitor was expected." - </p> - <p> - "Of all the mad things——" began Davis, but his sister for the - second time motioned her brother to silence. - </p> - <p> - "Not quite so mad as you think. I fancy I can see into his mind. We could - have met at a dozen different restaurants in London, but Roddie was here, - there and everywhere: at any moment he might have come across us. He would - never get as far as Kensington." David nodded his sagacious head. "I think - I see. Go on." - </p> - <p> - "I met him there, in all four times, the last meeting was a few days - before the tragedy." - </p> - <p> - "And what took place at that meeting?" - </p> - <p> - "He paid me the seven thousand pounds in notes. I signed a paper agreeing - to give Roddie up. I carried out my bargain. I wrote Roddie that same - night, giving him his dismissal, and assuring him that nothing he could - urge would induce me to reconsider my determination. He sent me frantic - telegrams the next day, but I replied to the same effect. After taking his - seven thousand pounds, I could not break faith with Hugh, could I?" - </p> - <p> - Davis was not quite sure that Iris would not break faith with anybody if - it suited her purpose. But clearly Hugh Murchison had subjugated her to - the extent of respecting an honourable bargain. No doubt she had fallen in - love with him, so far as a person of her shallow temperament could fall in - love. - </p> - <p> - "And what has become of Roddie?" - </p> - <p> - "I don't know, and I don't care. He has bored me to extinction for over - nine months. I am glad to be shut of him." - </p> - <p> - Davis put a question. "You say Hugh Murchison paid you in notes. What have - you done with them? His bank will have the numbers." - </p> - <p> - "Will they?" cried Iris, the frightened look again coming into her eyes; - she knew nothing of business methods. "I paid them into my own account. - Now, you see, if you rake this up I might be implicated." - </p> - <p> - "Your opinion is, then, that the man found in No. 10 Cathcart Square was - Hugh Murchison?" - </p> - <p> - "I am as nearly sure as I can be, after reading the caretaker's evidence. - He had some other stunt on beside my own. I was not the only visitor he - received." - </p> - <p> - Davis thought deeply before he spoke. "If I have him dug up, and he is - identified by those who know him, a lot will come to light. Your notes - will be traced, for one thing." - </p> - <p> - "I am afraid of everything, Reggie. For the love of Heaven, let him rest - where he is." Caroline Masters breathed softly to herself. "You were half - in love with him, or perhaps three-quarters, and you don't want to know - the real truth. Oh, you miserable little, paltry soul!" - </p> - <p> - And then a sudden thought came to Davis. "Now, Iris, you could never think - very clearly about things when they got a little bit complicated. You are - quite sure the last occasion on which you saw him was a few days before - the discovery of the body?" - </p> - <p> - "I will swear to it," cried Iris firmly. - </p> - <p> - "The date of his cheque, which the Bank has, will show that. He probably - cashed it himself on the day he paid you, any way the day before. Now, on - the day preceding and the day following that tragedy, can you prove where - you were?" - </p> - <p> - Iris began to see light. "Of course I can. The day after I had the notes, - I got up a sprained ankle, an obliging doctor, an old (or rather young) - friend of mine, sent a certificate to the theatre. I motored down to - Brighton with Johnny Lascelles—who, by the way, used to make Roddie - fearfully jealous. We joined a jolly little party at 'The Old Ship.' I - came back the day after the discovery in Cathcart Square." - </p> - <p> - Davis rose and gave a great shout: "You have witnesses who can swear to - that?" - </p> - <p> - "Of course," answered Iris, not even yet comprehending the full drift of - the question. "Johnny Lascelles motored me there and drove me back. Then - there was Cissy Monteith, Katie Havard, Jack Legard and others who were - with me all the time." - </p> - <p> - "You silly little idiot," cried Reginald Davis. "And what the deuce do you - mean by saying that you might be implicated?" - </p> - <p> - "The notes," she faltered. "My meeting him alone in that empty house. They - might suggest I murdered him, if you say he was murdered." - </p> - <p> - Davis smote his forehead in impotent anger at her denseness. "How could - you have murdered him when you were at Brighton all the time?" - </p> - <p> - He smote the palms of his hands together. - </p> - <p> - "I will find out who the dead man was, and also the man who forged my name - to that letter to the Coroner." - </p> - <p> - He turned to his sister: "As for you, young woman, it may be you will have - a bad quarter of an hour, if it all comes out about Roddie. But never - mind, you will have a splendid advertisement. The next bunch of letters - you get hold of, the price will be twice seven thousand pounds." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he following - morning Reginald Davis, resolved to unearth the mystery of 10 Cath-cart - Square, stood in the private room of Mr. Bryant of Scotland Yard. - </p> - <p> - He had easily overcome his younger sister's scruples, her terror at having - to give evidence in a court of justice, and being forced to disclose - certain transactions not too creditable to herself. She had come to see - from the point of view artfully suggested by Davis, that, on the whole, it - would be a very good advertisement. It might even take her from her place - in the chorus to a small acting part, and then her fortune would be made. - She might be able to come across another rich man whom she would like well - enough to marry, a man quite different from the somewhat invertebrate - Roddie. - </p> - <p> - Bryant looked up from his papers, and regarded the young man with his keen - and steady gaze. Davis's good looks, and frank air impressed him - favourably. - </p> - <p> - "Well, my man, what do you want with me? I don't usually see strangers who - approach me in such a mysterious fashion. You would neither state your - name nor business, only said vaguely that you wanted to interview me on a - matter of great urgency." - </p> - <p> - "I wished to keep my business for your private ear, sir. Can you throw - your mind back to a certain gruesome affair that happened at 10 Cathcart - Square?" - </p> - <p> - "Certainly, although I was not in charge of the matter. The man was - identified as Reginald Davis, who was wanted on a charge of murder, the - circumstantial evidence against him being very strong; the verdict - returned was one of suicide. If I recollect rightly, he had broken a pane - of glass in one of the back windows of the house, unhasped the latch of - the window, and cut his throat upstairs after he got inside. The facts - were accepted at the time as conclusive evidence of his guilt." - </p> - <p> - "And you recollect, sir, what happened a short time ago with regard to the - crime of which Reginald Davis was accused?" - </p> - <p> - "Perfectly. The real criminal has confessed. And this poor devil, - overwhelmed no doubt by the circumstantial evidence which told so strongly - against him, acted too hastily." - </p> - <p> - "If the police had caught him, he would probably have been hanged by now," - said Davis a little bitterly. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant looked a little uneasy. "I should say it is more than probable - from what I remember of the case; well, you know, the law makes mistakes - at times, I will admit." - </p> - <p> - "And juries at inquests make mistakes at times, also," remarked Davis - quietly. "This particular jury made a mistake. The dead man was no more - Reginald Davis than you are." - </p> - <p> - It was not easy to startle Mr. Bryant, he had been through too many - strange experiences for that, but he exhibited a mild surprise as he put - the question: "And what authority have you for saying that?" - </p> - <p> - "I think you will admit the best. I who stand before you am the Reginald - Davis who was wanted on that false charge of murder, and branded by that - intelligent jury as a suicide." - </p> - <p> - "You can prove this, of course. I mean that you are the real Reginald - Davis." - </p> - <p> - "Of course I can, sir; I can bring a dozen witnesses, if necessary, half - of whom have known me since a boy." - </p> - <p> - Needless to say that a man of Bryant's experience did not, as a rule, - believe one quarter of what he was told. But this man's face—this - man's tones—convinced him that he was listening to the truth. - </p> - <p> - He rose from his chair. "Wait here a moment, please, while I hunt up the - particulars of this case. As I told you just now, I was not in charge of - it, and I should like to refresh my memory as to certain details." - </p> - <p> - He came back after a few moments. "I know it all now, from A to Z. You - were identified by a married sister, a Mrs. Masters, who gave some details - of your career, which did not seem to have been a very healthy one. She - was also shown a letter which you were supposed to have written to the - Coroner, and she believed it to be in your handwriting. This wants some - explanation, I think, Mr. Davis, to call you by the name which you say is - your right one." - </p> - <p> - "Quite so, sir," answered Reginald composedly. "It certainly requires a - good deal of explanation, but if you will listen to me with a little - patience, I think I can convince you that the thing is more natural than - it appears." The Inspector threw himself back in his chair: "I have no - doubt it was your sister who identified you, but how did she come to - mistake the actual suicide for you?" - </p> - <p> - And Mr. Davis gave the explanation which Bryant might believe or not, or - believe in part, as he chose. - </p> - <p> - "My sister Caroline was deeply attached to me. She was in despair when she - heard that I was suspected of murder, and was being hunted by the police. - As day after day, week after week, went by, and there was no news of my - capture, she got it firmly fixed in her mind that I had committed suicide. - She hunted the newspapers every morning to find some paragraph that would - confirm her fears. And then one day she read about what had happened at - Cathcart Square." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant was now deeply interested. He leaned forward in his chair, and - his attitude betokened his eagerness. - </p> - <p> - "It is possible that her mind had become a little unhinged by her anxiety. - She expected to find me, and she found a man who might have passed for my - twin brother. So she tells me now that I have revealed myself, for, of - course, I lay very low until this belated confession of the real - murderer." - </p> - <p> - Bryant only made a brief comment on this particular portion of the - narrative which Davis was twisting about with some skill. Of course, Mrs. - Masters had not been deceived by the accidental resemblance, but in - pretending to be she had given that brother a new lease of life. - </p> - <p> - "You say that the man was so like you that the sister, who had known you - from childhood, was ready to swear he was her brother?" - </p> - <p> - "There is no doubt, sir, that at the time her mind was clouded. She went - there expecting to find me, and as a not altogether unnatural result, she - found what she expected." - </p> - <p> - "We will let that pass," said the Inspector drily. "No doubt, under - extraordinary circumstances, strange hallucinations are apt to occur. It - was very fortunate for you that your sister made that mistake, and that it - was accepted. As you admitted just now, if you had been caught and tried - it would have gone very hardly with you." - </p> - <p> - Whatever Bryant thought in his own mind, it was evident that he was - prepared to admit that Mrs. Masters had acted in good faith when she swore - that the dead man was her brother. Davis could see there would be no - trouble on that score. - </p> - <p> - "Now we come to the letter," pursued Davis. "I questioned my sister very - closely about that last night. She says she was so overwhelmed with the - discovery that she read that letter through a mist, as it were, but she is - positive that it closely resembled my handwriting." - </p> - <p> - "Another hallucination, I suppose, or an accidental resemblance. Well, if - you will leave a specimen of your own caligraphy with us, we can compare - them," said Bryant. - </p> - <p> - "And I suppose, sir, you will have the body exhumed, for the purpose of - discovering who the man really was?" - </p> - <p> - "I suppose so," replied the Inspector a little unwillingly. "Although I - don't expect we shall ever find out. Nobody came forward at the time when - your sister made that mistake. Is it likely anybody will come forward now? - Some poor derelict, weary of life I suppose, without kith or kin to claim - him at the end. There are scores of suicides in the year, Mr. Davis, who - are buried unidentified." - </p> - <p> - He added, after a moment's pause: "Of course, before taking any such - steps, we must formally prove, from unimpeachable testimony, that not only - are you Reginald Davis, but the particular Reginald Davis who was falsely - accused of murder." - </p> - <p> - "I quite understand," answered Davis a little stiffly. "Before I leave - this room, I will indicate the quarters where you can obtain the - information you want." - </p> - <p> - "Then, when I have verified that, I will ask you to come and see me - again." Bryant's manner as he said these words, indicated that the - interview was at an end. - </p> - <p> - But Davis kept his seat, he had not finished yet. - </p> - <p> - "May I take the liberty of detaining you for a few moments longer, sir, to - impress upon you the importance of having that body exhumed? You may be - correct in your theory it is that of some poor derelict, but I have a - different theory altogether." - </p> - <p> - The Inspector looked sharply at him, and drew a deep breath. "Ah, then, - you have some knowledge of something: your visit to me has been leading up - to this, eh?" - </p> - <p> - "No actual knowledge, sir, but a surmise that has, I venture to think, - some foundation. I have two sisters. The elder one I have already spoken - of to you." - </p> - <p> - There was a slight note of sarcasm in the Inspector's voice as he replied, - "Yes, Mrs. Masters, whose fortunate mistake was of such excellent service - to you, during the time you were waiting for the real criminal's - confession." Davis did not suffer himself to resent this. Of course, a man - of the world like Bryant did not believe in this camouflaged story. Mrs. - Masters was a clever young woman, and had taken advantage of an accidental - resemblance to get her brother out of jeopardy. - </p> - <p> - "My other sister, Iris Deane, is in the chorus of the Frivolity Theatre. I - don't suppose you have ever heard of her?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant shook his head. He knew a great deal about all classes of - criminals, but young ladies in the chorus of the Frivolity, or any other - theatre, were not in his line. - </p> - <p> - "She was at Mrs. Masters's house last night. She came over especially to - welcome me, on my reintroduction to the world which I was supposed to have - quitted. She made to us a very startling confession, and that confession - is intimately associated with the events at Cathcart Square." - </p> - <p> - And this time, Bryant was genuinely surprised, and was at no pains to - conceal it. Reginald Davis—he was beginning to believe in the man's - identity now—was evidently a member of a very remarkable family. - </p> - <p> - "You astound me, Mr. Davis. Yourself and both your sisters mixed up with - what happened there! It sounds like a romance. Pray proceed!" - </p> - <p> - Davis told the story as Iris had told him, carefully concealing the names - of the two men concerned in it for the moment. He was careful to point out - that on the night of the suicide she could establish a complete and - unquestioned alibi. - </p> - <p> - Bryant turned on him sharply. "It occurs to me that you don't think it was - a suicide, Mr. Davis." - </p> - <p> - "I don't, sir, and at present I can't quite tell you why." - </p> - <p> - "But you must have some reason for thinking that," said Bryant in the same - sharp tone. - </p> - <p> - "My only reason is this—if the man who was buried under the name of - Reginald Davis is the man I believe him to be, there was no earthly reason - why he should commit suicide. To the best of my belief, he was murdered - for some motive that I cannot guess, and the murderer, after cutting his - throat, put the razor in his stiffening hand." - </p> - <p> - "It is a theory worth thinking about," said Bryant, who was beginning to - appreciate his visitor very much. "And now, Mr. Davis, the name of the man - whom your sister met in the empty house?" - </p> - <p> - "I have kept that to the last, to surprise you. You will know the name, - but I don't suppose you ever came across the man. It was Major Hugh - Murchison." - </p> - <p> - At this startling announcement, the Inspector literally jumped from his - chair. - </p> - <p> - "But I do know Major Hugh Murchison," he cried. "He was in my office not - so very long ago. Let me see, when was it?" - </p> - <p> - He turned to his diary and verified the date, and gave it to Reginald - Davis. It was longer back than he thought. - </p> - <p> - "And you have not seen him since that day?" - </p> - <p> - "No," answered the Inspector. "Wait a moment till I ring up my friend - Parkinson. I couldn't undertake the job he called on, as it was quite a - private matter. I handed it over to Parkinson." - </p> - <p> - He rang up his old friend and former colleague. Davis could gather enough - from the conversation on Bryant's side to be sure that a considerable - interval had elapsed since Parkinson had seen his client. - </p> - <p> - Bryant sat down in his chair. "Mr. Davis, I cannot say how much obliged I - am to you for your visit, and the information you have given me. Now, I - know a great deal more than you do about the proceedings and movements of - Major Murchison, I know on what business he was engaged, in addition to - that little matter of your sister's. I will go into the inquiries - concerning yourself, and please hold yourself at my disposal, give me an - address where I can communicate with you readily." - </p> - <p> - Davis did so, and said good-bye to the Inspector. - </p> - <p> - After he had left, Bryant gave instructions he was not to be disturbed for - an hour. And during that hour he did the hardest bit of thinking he had - ever done in his life. - </p> - <p> - And now that Davis had mentioned it, the man did bear a superficial - resemblance to Hugh Murchison. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was a very hard - nut he had to crack. Thanks to his peculiar position, he was in possession - of reliable and exclusive information from more than one quarter. He held - several threads in his capable hands, but would he be able to weave them - into a net wide enough for his purpose? - </p> - <p> - His recent interview with Davis had established the fact that four persons - were connected with the mystery of Cathcart Square—Davis himself, - Caroline Masters (the elder sister), Iris Deane (the younger sister), and, - most important of all, Hugh Murchison. - </p> - <p> - He dismissed, for the moment, the first three from his mind. But Hugh - Murchison, with his resemblance to Reginald Davis, was the connecting link - between them and another set of actors. - </p> - <p> - Murchison had consulted him with the view of identifying Mrs. Spencer and - George Dutton with the Norah and George Burton of those far-off days at - Blankfield, and he had identified them as the same persons. He had then - handed over the Major to the astute Parkinson, who would find out as much - as he could with regard to the present relations between the precious - pair. - </p> - <p> - Bryant had been very busy of late, and he had almost dismissed the - Murchison episode from his mind. But when the Major had completed his - investigations he would undoubtedly take steps to turn such a scheming and - unscrupulous adventuress out of her husband's house. As to the way in - which he would proceed to accomplish that purpose, Bryant, of course, had - no knowledge. Neither did he know which Murchison would approach first, - the husband or the wife. Perhaps both together. - </p> - <p> - One thing stood out pretty clearly, from the evidence of Iris Deane, that - she had met Murchison alone at the house in Cathcart Square a few days - before the discovery of the dead body. - </p> - <p> - Another thing also stood out equally clearly, that the dead man bore a - remarkable likeness to Reginald Davis. If not, Caroline Masters would not - have dared to perjure herself as she had done. And he himself had - recognised the superficial resemblance between the two men. - </p> - <p> - Assuming that it was a murder, and not a suicide, and Bryant was beginning - to incline, like Davis, to the former theory, why had the murderer fixed - upon the name of Reginald Davis, and forged a letter to the Coroner? He - must have been somebody who had known Davis at some time, and was - acquainted with his handwriting. Like Caroline Masters, he must have been - inclined to do the hunted fugitive a good turn, and have trusted to his - gratitude to keep a silent tongue. - </p> - <p> - An hour's steady thinking had cleared his brain. The conclusions he - arrived at were as follows: Hugh Murchison had been murdered by somebody, - and buried as a suicide under the name of Reginald Davis. The next - question was who was the murderer, and what was the motive for committing - the murder? Here he could make a pretty shrewd guess. If Murchison had - gone about his mission in a straightforward, but rather blundering, - fashion the motive was clear enough. - </p> - <p> - With Bryant to think was to act. Davis was having a week's holiday in - London, staying with his sister, Mrs. Masters. That same afternoon the - young man was again in the Inspector's room, in response to an urgent - summons on the telephone. - </p> - <p> - "Now, Mr. Davis, I have been thinking deeply over this rather complicated - affair of Cathcart Square, and I am beginning to see a streak or two of - daylight. I told you this morning I know a bit more about Major Murchison - than you do, and there is just a chance you might help me. I take it you - have had a somewhat adventurous career, your sister admitted as much at - the inquest. She said in fact that you had been the black sheep of the - family." - </p> - <p> - Davis hung his head in a shame-faced fashion. "I have to admit it, sir. - It's no use attempting to deny it, when Carrie gave me away like that." - </p> - <p> - "I have no desire to pry into your past, except so far as it helps me in - my present quest. But I expect, in your time, you have associated with a - few undesirable characters." Reginald Davis admitted the fact quite - frankly. - </p> - <p> - "Now, of course, it is only just a chance. But did you ever come across a - man named George Burton, and a young woman who passed as his sister? My - first knowledge of them is that they ran a gambling saloon in Paris, she a - good-looking girl, acting as decoy. Then he quitted the card-sharping game - and went in for more criminal pursuits." - </p> - <p> - "I did know them, sir. If I tell you what I do know, am I letting myself - in for anything?" queried Mr. Davis cautiously. "You see, since that awful - thing happened, I have turned over a new leaf. Nobody could tempt me to go - the least bit on the crook." - </p> - <p> - "Make your mind quite easy, Davis. We have nothing against you. You know - that, or you would have hardly dared to come to life again." - </p> - <p> - "Well, sir, I did know George Burton pretty intimately at one time, after - he left Paris. He was in the forgery business and he tried to drag me in, - but I was clever enough to keep out of it. They used, in his own set, to - call him 'George the Penman.'" - </p> - <p> - "Good," said Bryant; "and what did you know about the girl?" - </p> - <p> - "Not very much, sir. She passed as his sister, but one or two of his pals - believed her to be his wife, although there was no evidence of it." - </p> - <p> - "Did you ever learn anything of her origin?" - </p> - <p> - "Well, one chap who seemed to know more about them than their other pals, - told me that she was by way of being a lady, the illegitimate daughter of - a man well-known in London Society." - </p> - <p> - "Do you know the name of the man?" - </p> - <p> - Davis tapped his forehead in the effort of recollection. - </p> - <p> - "It's on the tip of my tongue, sir: it will come to me in a moment—a - man who was mixed up in a gambling scandal, and had to leave the country. - Ah, I have got it now, he was known familiarly as Tommie Esmond." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bryant rose. He had got all he could out of his new acquaintance. The - threads in his hand were drawing closer into a web. - </p> - <p> - "Well, Mr. Davis, good-day. Many thanks for the information you have given - me, it has been very helpful. I will keep in touch with you." - </p> - <p> - "And you think, with me, it was a murder, and not a suicide?" questioned - Davis as he left. - </p> - <p> - But Bryant was not the man to express a decided opinion until he was fully - justified by the facts. He kept his thoughts to himself till the last - moment. - </p> - <p> - He smiled pleasantly. "Time will show. I shall have that body exhumed, as - soon as I have made a few further inquiries." - </p> - <p> - Davis had to be content with this oracular utterance, and bowed himself - out. He solaced himself by narrating all that had occurred to the - wondering Carrie. - </p> - <p> - The matter had now become one for the activities of Scotland Yard. The - first thing to be done was to ascertain the whereabouts of Hugh Murchison, - that is to say, if he was still in the land of the living. Some time had - elapsed since he had communicated with Parkinson. Of course, in itself, - there would be nothing strange in that. Parkinson had got the information - that was required, been paid for it, and with that payment, their - relations had ended. - </p> - <p> - Bryant went to the hotel where the Major had stayed, at any rate up to the - time that the detective had last seen him, and interviewed the manager, - whom he had known for some years in his professional capacity. This - person, a genial and cosmopolitan Italian, readily answered his questions. - </p> - <p> - Yes, the Major had stayed there for some little time. When he came, he - explained that he was only paying a flying visit to London. Had he brought - a servant with him? No, he had not. A somewhat strange omission for a man - in his position, was it not? The circumstance was easily explained. The - Major had had to dismiss his late valet for theft, and was not in a hurry, - for the present, to suit himself with a fresh one. This he had told the - manager and he was valeted at the hotel. - </p> - <p> - He had left some time. How long? The manager would find out the exact - date. This he did. On the afternoon of the fourth of July. - </p> - <p> - The Major had taken his things down to Victoria Station in a cab with the - view of depositing them there, as he was going to take an evening train to - Brighton. - </p> - <p> - Bryant brightened up at this information. The discovery of the dead body - at Cathcart Square had taken place early on the morning of the fifth. - </p> - <p> - Now arose the question, had the Major got through his business with the - Spencers before the fourth of July? In that case Mrs. Spencer was hardly - likely to be still living at Eaton Place with her husband. - </p> - <p> - Inquiries at Eaton Place soon established the fact that Mrs. Spencer was - still there. What had happened? Had the Major communicated the result of - his research to the husband, with the result that, infatuated with his - wife, that husband had refused to credit the story and accepted Stella's - denials? - </p> - <p> - It was a fairly plausible theory. When men are deeply in love, women can - twist them round their little finger. In that case, it was easy to - understand that, disgusted with the failure of his intervention, the Major - had made up his mind to leave London at once. - </p> - <p> - One other thing was to be done, to ascertain if the Major had intimated to - any of his friends his intention of leaving London so abruptly. For this - purpose, Bryant sought out the brother Roderick, who had rooms in Jermyn - Street. - </p> - <p> - Yes, Roderick had met the Major in Bond Street in the morning, and learned - of the proposed journey to Brighton. The young man added that his brother - was very erratic in his movements, and sometimes would disappear for weeks - at a stretch without communicating with any of his friends or relatives. - </p> - <p> - There was now one of two theories that stood out: the first one that Guy - Spencer had been told, and refused to believe the true facts about his - wife. The second was, that the Major had shirked the unpleasantness of a - personal interview of such a delicate character, and had gone down to - Brighton intending to write privately to Spencer from there. - </p> - <p> - Further inquiries elicited the fact that the Major had never made that - projected journey to Brighton. His belongings had never been claimed, they - were still lying in the cloak room at Victoria Station. - </p> - <p> - There was now no further doubt as to what steps had to be taken. The Major - had disappeared at a date practically coinciding with the discovery of the - dead body at Cathcart Square, the dead body which had been wrongly - identified as that of Reginald Davis, whose likeness to the Major was so - pronounced. Of that fact, Bryant himself was aware. - </p> - <p> - The authorities were applied to, and gave permission for the body to be - exhumed. As the living Reginald Davis had established his identity to the - satisfaction of Scotland Yard, it was necessary to find out, if possible, - that of the man who had been mistaken for him. - </p> - <p> - The body was exhumed and pronounced by half-a-dozen people, including Guy - Spencer, to be that of the Major. - </p> - <p> - It had now become clearly a case of murder, and although those in charge - of the case had little or no doubt as to the guilty persons, it might have - been very difficult to prove, but for one convincing fact, supplied by the - murdered man himself. - </p> - <p> - But this evidence, which was overwhelming, the police kept to themselves - for some little time, for their own good reasons. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he luggage which - had been left at Victoria Station on the fatal day was, of course, seized - by the police. They searched it thoroughly in the hope that they would - find something useful to them in the shape of letters or memoranda. - </p> - <p> - Of letters there were only two, brief ones from Iris Deane, in which she - expressed her determination of sticking out for her ten thousand pounds. - As we know, in the end she gave way and accepted seven. - </p> - <p> - But they did find one priceless thing, and that was a diary, bound in red - leather, a small volume as to the size of the page, but very bulky. It had - evidently been the dead man's habit to keep a fairly close record of his - doings, for it was numbered, and contained entries from some date in May - 1919 up to July 3rd, the day before he left the hotel, and announced to - the manager that he intended to take a late train to Brighton. - </p> - <p> - For the twentieth time since he had discovered this important piece of - evidence, Mr. Bryant sat in his room at Scotland Yard, reading and - re-reading the entries which he knew almost by heart. - </p> - <p> - With the entries, before the visit to London, Bryant had no concern. They - recorded trifling events which had no reference to the tragedy at Cathcart - Square. There was, of course, allusion to the letter from Roderick which - had so startled his family, the letter announcing his engagement to the - chorus girl, Iris Deane, and his fixed resolve to make her his wife. There - was a note of a family council, in which the elder brother was deputed to - approach the young woman herself, with the object of buying her off. - </p> - <p> - There were a few records of his first days in London, after a long - absence, his visits to his clubs, his meeting with old pre-war - acquaintances, his first interview with Iris Deane, the difficulty of - arranging further interviews either at his hotel or her flat, owing to the - fear of Roddie popping in unexpectedly. - </p> - <p> - Then came the whimsical record of his strolling round Kensington, halting - opposite the house with the board announcing that it was to be let - furnished, his interview with the accommodating caretaker who, in return - for a very handsome <i>douceur</i>, gave him a duplicate key to enter the - house at any time he liked. He had casually mentioned to Miles that his - name was Sanderson. - </p> - <p> - The Major seemed childishly pleased over what he considered a very astute - move, especially the giving of another name. Here in this quiet backwater - of the world, for so it would seem to a man of his wealth and position, he - could continue his negotiations with the somewhat obstinate Iris. In the - portion of the diary concerned with the grasping and frivolous young - chorus-girl, Bryant was not greatly interested. He had learned this - already from Iris Deane, whom he had interviewed a few times, and Reginald - Davis. - </p> - <p> - He turned from the bulky little volume, the pages of which were covered - with the Major's small, rather methodical handwriting, to a slenderer book - lying beside him. Into this had been copied all the extracts bearing on - the relations between the dead man and Mrs. Spencer, otherwise Stella - Keane, otherwise Norah Burton. - </p> - <p> - The first entry recorded the dinner-party at Carlton House Terrace, when - he had been struck by the remarkable likeness of his friend's wife to the - pretty adventuress at Blankfield, who had driven his old friend, Jack - Pomfret, to his death; his endeavours to startle her by allusions to that - garrison town. - </p> - <p> - An important entry was that of his interview with his old acquaintance at - the club, Gilbert Fairfax, from whom he had learned something of the - atmosphere of the L'Estrange flat in Elsinore Gardens, the branding of - Tommie Esmond as a card-sharper, the flight of the fat little man to the - Continent, the visit of Stella Keane to Charing Cross Station to bid the - detected cheat farewell. There was a comment upon this fact: "Whether she - is Norah Burton or not, her intimacy with the L'Estrange set, her - solicitude for Tommie Esmond, are sufficient to make her unfit to be the - wife of a straight, honest fellow like my old friend Guy Spencer." - </p> - <p> - There followed further entries, relating his interview with Bryant, the - confirmation by the detective that Stella Keane was Norah Burton, that - George Dutton, the keeper of the obscure little bucket-shop in the City, - was the same George Burton who had been arrested at Blank-field on a - charge of forgery, and who, thanks to one of the cleverest advocates at - the criminal bar, had got off with a very light sentence. - </p> - <p> - There was a full record of the long interview with Mrs. Spencer, in which - she had been finally confounded, and forced to confession, of her - acceptance of his terms, of the words she had uttered when, while rather - regretting that things could not go on as they were, lamenting the fact - that her accuser had ever been born, she was not at all satisfied with her - present environment, and would experience a certain measure of relief in - quitting it for a more congenial sphere. - </p> - <p> - On the day he had parted from her, the day on which she had yielded to his - inflexible determination that she must remain under her husband's roof as - short a time as possible, he recorded the fact that, up to the present - moment, he had not made up his mind as to the precise way in which he was - going to bring about the separation. He wanted to choose the way which - would least hurt Guy. - </p> - <p> - There had flashed through his mind that, in addition to the confession she - was about to make to him of her whole career, she should confess to her - husband that she was not legally his wife, being in reality the wife of - George Burton, alias George Dutton. There followed here a note. "I am - convinced she and this rascal were married, the sister and cousin dodges - were always a fake. I must see Parkinson to find out if he can ferret out - anything on that point. But the time is short. In a week I must be ready - for action." - </p> - <p> - A further entry showed that he had called on Parkinson with this object, - only to learn that the detective had gone on an important mission abroad, - and could undertake no further work till his return, which would be some - ten days hence. That idea therefore had to be dismissed. He must think out - some other plan. - </p> - <p> - Then came the last and most important entry of all, dated on the fourth of - July, written no doubt a few hours before he took his luggage to Victoria - Station. - </p> - <p> - "I meet Norah Burton, I always think of her by that old name, at Cathcart - Square at six o'clock to-night. I have given the caretaker a holiday to - keep him out of the way. I have drawn up two copies of the confession, one - of which she is to sign. I have also drawn up an undertaking on my part to - keep her from want in case Guy should prove obdurate. But this I am sure - he will not do. Besides, if she is his wife, and thinking it over, I have - my doubts as to whether she was ever really married to Burton, he would - have to support her, in spite of her unsavoury associations." - </p> - <p> - Bryant paused for a moment as he finished this paragraph to reflect a - little. Personally, he did not believe that she was the wife of George - Burton; in his opinion, their association had been the result of mutual - interests. With this knowledge hanging over her head, she would hardly - have been daring enough to go through the ceremony of marriage with two - other men. Anyway, it was a debatable point. - </p> - <p> - Moreover, Burton, like most criminals, would be very wide awake and - calculating. To marry her would be to handicap himself. He could get more - out of her by marrying her to a rich man. - </p> - <p> - Then came the last paragraph of all. - </p> - <p> - "Now, for my action after the final interview of to-night, when she has - signed the confession. I may do one of two things, forbid her to return to - her husband's house, and go myself straight to Eaton Place, and break the - news to Spencer without any preamble. In that case, I shall take with me - some ready money to hand to her, as she will probably have very little - upon her. - </p> - <p> - "And yet I rather shrink from this course; it would be painful for me to - watch his agony while I struck such a terrible blow. I will run down to - Brighton, drop him a note telling him that an important letter will reach - him at his club by registered post to-morrow, that he is on no account to - let his wife know he has heard from me till he has read the contents of - that registered packet. - </p> - <p> - "I shall post him the copy of the confession, telling him he can inspect - the original at any time he likes, meeting me either in Brighton or - London, leaving him to deal with her as he chooses. After all, his is the - right to dispose of his private affairs, my duty really ends when I have - put him in possession of the facts. My first method must have the effect - of creating open scandal at once, by my insisting upon her not returning - to Eaton Place. - </p> - <p> - "He may wish to devise some plan that will create a scandal less open, to - save, as far as he can, the disgrace to himself and his family. If I know - the man, and here, perhaps, I am arguing from the knowledge only of my own - temperament, I should say his love would turn to hatred after he reads - that confession. Jack Pomfret was a weaker man than Guy, but he acted as I - should have done under the circumstances, and refused all further - communication with her, refused to give her the opportunity of denial or - explanation. - </p> - <p> - "Still, there is no knowing to what lengths a deep-rooted infatuation for - a fascinating woman will lead a man. In this respect, Guy may be less - adamant than Pomfret, although I am sure he will never imitate poor Jack's - final weakness. He is too sturdily built for that. - </p> - <p> - "When confronted with that confession she may plead artfully, and, perhaps - to him, convincingly, that while she admits everything contained in it, - she was more sinned against than sinning, that she tried to escape from - her odious bondage by marrying Jack, and that with his suicide and the - frustration of her hopes, she was compelled to return to an environment - which she loathed. He might consent to believe and forgive, although to me - such a thing seems incredible, impossible." - </p> - <p> - Bryant closed the book on the last entry. That little red-leather volume - threw a lurid light on the mystery of Cathcart Square. The exhumed body - was found to be that of Major Murchison, wrongly identified in the first - instance as that of Reginald Davis. It was all very clear. - </p> - <p> - That meeting had taken place, and the unfortunate man had been done to - death by the precious pair, Norah Burton and the scoundrel brother, cousin - or life-long lover, whichever he was. Reginald Davis was an old - acquaintance of theirs, had been possibly a more intimate one than the - cautious Davis was prepared to admit. They took with them letters - addressed to their old friend, they forged a letter from him intimating - his intention to commit suicide. - </p> - <p> - If Davis read of all this in the papers, he was too concerned with his own - danger to emerge from his hiding-place and publish the truth to the world. - He would be thankful that, through the villainy of others, he could take a - new lease of life, unmenaced by detection. Of course, they had never - thought of the possibility that Davis would be cleared by the confession - of the real criminal. Like Scotland Yard, they were sure he was guilty, - and his silence was a matter of certainty. - </p> - <p> - And slowly Bryant, drawing from the stores of his vast experience, began - to construct in his own mind the details of the murder, executed by two - desperate criminals, almost driven to the verge of madness by the - knowledge that their carefully-laid plans were about to be frustrated by - the action of one man. - </p> - <p> - The woman, the weaker of the two, was probably more disposed to yield to - the force and strength of circumstances. Once before, in her marriage to - Jack Pomfret, she had had the cup snatched from her lips, and bowed to the - inevitable. From the few words recorded in the Major's accusing diary, it - would seem that, secured of a modest competence, she was ready a second - time to accept her fate. - </p> - <p> - And then, in that week's interval, it was easy to guess what had happened. - She had consulted her old partner in crime, George Burton. He had - reasoned, as it turned out, a little shallowly, remove Murchison, and the - danger will be past. The resemblance of Murchison to Reginald Davis had - occurred to the pair, hence the cunningly prepared letters. - </p> - <p> - And how was the actual murder accomplished? Had they gone to Cathcart - Square together, or had Burton followed her, getting in by means of that - broken window-pane at the back? And did they know the Major was alone? In - that last interview with Mrs. Spencer, had he let out the fact that he had - given the caretaker a holiday, so that they should not be disturbed? - </p> - <p> - These were side problems that could not be solved at the moment. Only two - persons could solve them, and those two, in all probability, would never - speak. - </p> - <p> - But how had they killed him? The Major was a strong, muscular fellow who - would fight tenaciously for his life. Norah Burton was a slender woman, - almost verging on frailness, George Dutton, to call him by his latest - name, was certainly of a muscular build, although of only average height. - </p> - <p> - Well, of course, they had foreseen and prepared for all that. while - talking to him, she had sprayed over him the essence of some overpowering - and stupefying drug, and while he was staggering about, dazed and blinded, - the man had stepped in and done the rest. - </p> - <p> - Owing to the absence of the caretaker, they had plenty of time. They had - rifled his pockets, taking out of them the money which, according to his - diary, he had brought along with him, his personal belongings, the ticket - which he had received at the luggage room of Victoria Station, and, of - course, the confession which Norah Burton had or had not signed. No doubt, - they had also examined his linen and underclothing to make sure that his - name was not on them. If it had been, they would have dealt with it by - stripping the body. - </p> - <p> - They had carried it out pretty well, on the whole. There were two things - they had not reckoned on. One was the resuscitation of Reginald Davis. The - other was the fact that Murchison kept a diary, one of the last things - that a man of his sort was likely to do. - </p> - <p> - Bryant, although not a very emotional man, felt very depressed as he came - to the result of his meditations. He felt sure that, if Norah Burton could - have had her own way, she would have accepted her fate, gone forth on the - world again with the slender pittance that either of the two men, her - husband or his friend, would have allowed her. - </p> - <p> - She had suffered herself to be dominated by a more reckless and criminal - spirit, with the result that the life of an honourable man had been taken, - and she was already standing at the foot of the gallows. - </p> - <p> - The pair, only knowing that the body had been exhumed and proved to be - that of Hugh Murchison—a terribly disturbing thought to them—but - ignorant of the discovery of that incriminating diary, were being closely - watched. But they felt sure that nothing could be traced to them, they had - hidden their tracks so cleverly, as they thought. - </p> - <p> - It was now only a question of a few hours as to when they should be taken. - And Bryant felt that Guy Spencer should know the truth before anybody - else. Poor fellow! He would soften the blow to him as much as he could. - </p> - <p> - That same evening he went round to Eaton Place, about seven o'clock. He - reckoned that he would catch Spencer before he went up to dress for - dinner. "Poor devil," thought Bryant, "he won't have much appetite for - dinner after he has read through that diary!" - </p> - <p> - Spencer was in the library, and the detective, whom he had met before in - connection with the mystery of Cathcart Square, was shown in. Spencer - welcomed him with his usual cordiality. - </p> - <p> - "Good-evening, Mr. Bryant. Any fresh light upon this terrible thing?" - </p> - <p> - The footman had left the library door slightly open, after showing Bryant - in, and had retired swiftly to his quarters. - </p> - <p> - He was hardly out of the hall when Stella opened the front-door with her - key, and glided noiselessly in. All her movements were noiseless, - suggesting, as somebody had once remarked of her, the silent motions of a - snake. She always carried a key, declaring that she could not be kept - waiting for servants to answer the door. - </p> - <p> - The library door was open, through the aperture she heard voices, and one - of them she recognised. It was that of the Scotland Yard detective, who - had cross-examined her very closely as to her various meetings with the - dead man. She had been afraid of Bryant. He had looked at her so - searchingly, and his manner always conveyed that he knew so much more than - he was prepared to disclose. - </p> - <p> - Bryant was speaking in a low, but very clear voice. Her hearing was - singularly acute, and she could catch every word. - </p> - <p> - "I am come on a very painful errand, Mr. Spencer. There is a small volume - here which throws a very clear light on what happened at Cathcart Square - on that fatal evening of July the fourth." - </p> - <p> - Guy's cheerful accents rang out. "You mean you have got a clue, Mr. - Bryant. But why painful to me? If you are on the track of the murderer of - my poor old friend, nobody will be more rejoiced than I." - </p> - <p> - Again the low, grave tones of Bryant: - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Spencer, you will be a very stricken man when you have read through - it. Your poor friend left behind him a very copious diary, made up to the - morning of the day on which he was murdered. The original is at my office, - you can inspect it at any time you like. This is a copy of the entries - relating to Cathcart Square. It touches your domestic life very closely, - in addition to proving why and by whom he was murdered." - </p> - <p> - Stella waited to hear no more. Her face had gone livid, she felt shaking - in every limb. That her old enemy, Murchison, had left a diary! They had - never thought of that possibility. The game was up. She had staked - something on her marriage as Norah Burton with Jack Pomfret, and had lost. - This time she had staked everything and lost again, but now she had lost - liberty and life in addition. There was but one end. She must seek at once - the man who had, in a way, been a good and faithful friend, but also her - evil genius. - </p> - <p> - She stole as quietly out of the hall as she had entered it, and hailed a - passing taxi. She knew she would never enter the house at Eaton Place - again. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs. Spencer had - plenty of money in her pocket. She was always accustomed to carry a large - sum about her. Her adventurous life had taught her that it was always - wiser to have a good amount of cash in her possession. The time might come - at any moment when you were in a tight corner. She had promised a handsome - reward to the taxi-cab driver if he could get to a certain destination - within the speed limit. - </p> - <p> - That destination was Kew Bridge, where it abuts on a little-known - neighbourhood called Strand-on-the-Green. - </p> - <p> - At the foot of Kew Bridge, the wretched and hunted woman halted, and paid - the driver his extravagant fare. What did it matter what she paid - to-night? To-morrow she might not be able to pay. She shuddered as she - thought of that to-morrow. - </p> - <p> - The taxi-driver drove slowly out of sight. She waited, from a sense of - habitual caution, till he was well out of the way. And then, remembering - everything, she smiled bitterly. Was there any need of caution now? - </p> - <p> - She went down a narrow lane, halted at the door of a small cottage, and - rang the front-door bell. As she did so, she was aware of a man a few - yards away from her, who seemed to be strolling aimlessly about, a man - dressed in ill-fitting clothes, and heavy boots. - </p> - <p> - A detective certainly! This man had followed her from Eaton Place in a - taxi almost as swift as her own. Bryant knew his business, he was not - going to lose sight of her, or of her reputed cousin, George Dutton. - </p> - <p> - The door was opened cautiously by George Dutton, alias George Burton. - </p> - <p> - It was a small furnished cottage that he had rented for some months past, - at a rent commensurate with his means. He kept no servant; a feeble old - woman came in the morning to clean him up and prepare his breakfast. When - he came back at night from the not very prosperous bucket-shop, he looked - after himself, and cooked over a gas-stove his evening meal. - </p> - <p> - The evenings were drawing in, and it was rather a dark night. He peered - for a moment at his visitor, before he recognised her. - </p> - <p> - "Stella, by all that is wonderful." He called her by the new name, not the - old one of Norah. "Come in, dear, but your arrival in this unexpected - fashion does not suggest good news." - </p> - <p> - She passed hastily through the open doorway. "Shut it quick," she said, in - a low, hoarse voice. "There is a man watching outside, I am sure he is a - detective." - </p> - <p> - As a matter of fact, there were two detectives within a few feet of each - other, but in her agitation she had not observed the second man, who was - deputed to keep watch on the movements of Mr. George Dutton. - </p> - <p> - George Dutton was an old hand, and not to be lightly disturbed by small - incidents. But he recognised the significance of this visit. His ruddy - colour died away. - </p> - <p> - "You have bad news," he said quietly. - </p> - <p> - "The worst, George. Bryant, the detective, paid a visit to Guy this - evening. I came in just in the nick of time. The library door was ajar, I - heard what Bryant said. The Major has left a diary behind him, and, of - course, he had put it all down, up to the arranged meeting in Cathcart - Square. The game is up, you will recognise that." - </p> - <p> - Dutton's mentality was a little bit slower than her own. "Did you hear any - extracts read from the diary?" - </p> - <p> - "What a fool you are!" she cried indignantly. "Why should I wait to hear? - If the man kept a diary, is it not easy to guess that he would have - related every incident connected with me, from our first meeting at the - Southleigh dinner-party? Bryant is watching me, there is a detective - waiting outside. No doubt he is watching you, too. He is just waiting to - pounce." - </p> - <p> - "Then why has he gone to your husband?" - </p> - <p> - "Oh, you are too dense for worlds. Just to soften the blow. Can't you - understand that he wants to warn him beforehand of the shame that is going - to fall upon him, the discovery that his wife is a murderess?" - </p> - <p> - And then Mr. Dutton understood. He stretched out appealing arms to her. - "My poor little girl, my ever faithful pal! And I have brought you to - this!" - </p> - <p> - "You have brought me to this," she said bitterly. "Did I not implore you - upon my knees to accept the Major's terms, and you were so obstinate, so - set. You would insist upon the other way because it seemed better to you. - And I, fool that I was, always yielding to your sinister influence, gave - way as I always have done." - </p> - <p> - Scoundrel and criminal as he was, hardened by years of evil-doing, the - man's self-control gave way at that accusation. He drew her to him, and, - strange to say, she did not shrink from his embrace.. - </p> - <p> - "My poor Stella, I have tried to do my best for you always, even - sacrificed myself. But the end has come." - </p> - <p> - He recognised that, as she did. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," she said stoically, "as you say, the end has come. You have always - been very adept in falling into holes, and then digging yourself out - again. How are you going to dig yourself and me out of this hole, in the - face of that incriminating diary?" - </p> - <p> - Dutton walked up and down, his face working, his hands and his body - trembling. He was up against the gravest problem of his adventurous - career. The shadow of the prison had always hovered over him, but now - there was a more ghastly menace, the shadow of the gallows. From the - prison, he could return. There was no return from the other. - </p> - <p> - He paused in his restless pacing, and came to a halt before the stricken - woman. He had recovered himself to a certain extent. He had gambled and - lost, he was prepared to accept the fate of the unsuccessful gambler. - </p> - <p> - "You are brave, old girl?" he asked briefly. - </p> - <p> - She looked up at him with a wan smile. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, I think I am brave. I can guess what you are about to suggest, with - the detectives watching us outside." She burst into a little sob. "Oh, you - always thought you were so clever, and yet, if I had had the management of - affairs, things might have been so different." - </p> - <p> - He spoke humbly. "I think you are right, Norah. I was always full of - arrogance and self-conceit. You were weaker in character than I was, but - you had always more brains. And I was a blind fool not to admit it. Many a - time you gave me your advice, and I rejected it." - </p> - <p> - "And what do you suggest now?" she asked, in a voice that had sunk to a - whisper. - </p> - <p> - He looked at her steadily. He had screwed up his courage to the sticking - point. Could he count upon an equal fortitude in her? - </p> - <p> - "It is the finish, old girl. You say the detectives are waiting outside. - Bryant has got a good case, and the diary will hang us. There is no - getting over that." - </p> - <p> - "You propose——" she said falteringly. - </p> - <p> - He spoke quite steadily. The end had come, he had made up his mind, so far - as regards himself. - </p> - <p> - "We neither of us want to hang for the murder of Hugh Murchison?" - </p> - <p> - She shuddered, and hid her face with her hands. "Oh, that awful evening! - It has been like a nightmare ever since." - </p> - <p> - "I know," said Dutton soothingly. "It was one of my fatal mistakes. But it - is no use crying over spilt milk. To-night we are face to face with facts. - We have gambled, and we have lost, and we have got to pay the penalty." - </p> - <p> - The wretched woman rose up, and wrung her hands. "And to think I might - have been the Countess of Southleigh." - </p> - <p> - "I know; don't think I am not reckoning up all that," replied Dutton. "But - we have got to deal with facts to-night, with the detectives waiting - outside. The game is up, you know that as well as I do. We have only a few - hours before us, perhaps a few minutes, in which to make the choice." - </p> - <p> - "I know," she answered. "You mean our only alternative is to cheat the - law." - </p> - <p> - He looked at her steadily. "That is the only way. If we suffer ourselves - to be taken, we have not got a dog's chance." - </p> - <p> - Weak woman as she was, she gathered something of his iron resolution. Yes, - they must die and die together, to cheat the law. Such was to be the end - of the brilliant adventuress who had inveigled two men into marriage, Jack - Pomfret and Guy Spencer, with her subtle and elusive charm. - </p> - <p> - "And what do you suggest, George? You have thought of these things more - than I have." - </p> - <p> - "I have always thought of them," said Dutton gloomily. "Well, there are - various ways I can suggest to you. I can shoot you first, and myself - afterwards." - </p> - <p> - She shuddered. "Some other way than that." - </p> - <p> - "I can give you some tabloids." - </p> - <p> - "Is there any pain?" she queried. - </p> - <p> - "Hardly any." - </p> - <p> - She shuddered again. "Hardly any. That does not sound very convincing." - </p> - <p> - He proposed a third alternative. "You can come up to my room, and lie on - the bed. I will paper up all the doors and cracks and turn up the gas. You - will simply go to sleep and never wake." - </p> - <p> - "That is the best," she said. - </p> - <p> - "If we had plenty of time. But they may take us in a few minutes. Bryant - has seen your husband, he will not wait long after that interview." - </p> - <p> - "The tabloids, then," she said firmly. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it had come to this, she must cheat the law. Twice, she had had her - chance, once as the wife of Jack Pomfret, again as the wife of Guy - Spencer. And twice had the cup of triumph been snatched from her lips. - </p> - <p> - She must die, like a rat in a hole, in this obscure little cottage at - Strand-on-the-Green, in the company of the man who had always been her - evil genius. - </p> - <p> - Dutton went across to a small cupboard built in the wall of the shabby - parlour, and brought out a little bottle filled with capsules. He - extracted one and handed it to the shrinking woman. - </p> - <p> - "Take yours first, dear, I will take mine after." There was a look of - infinite compassion in the scoundrel's face as he offered it to her. - </p> - <p> - Bravely she took it, and swallowed it with a great gulp, sitting in the - shabby easy-chair. The effect was almost instantaneous, and when Dutton - had made sure that she was beyond human aid, he took a similar tabloid - himself, with the same result. - </p> - <p> - An hour later there was a thundering knock at the door of the cottage. One - of the detectives had gone to a telephone office and informed Bryant that - the woman had come to Strand-on-the-Green, and was with Dutton. The order - came back from Bryant, who had only stayed a few minutes at Eaton Place, - that the pair were to be arrested at once. - </p> - <p> - Of course there was no response. After waiting for a few moments, the men - broke in the frail door. But they were too late. - </p> - <p> - Norah Burton, and the man who had been so long associated with her—brother, - cousin, lover, whatever he might be—had gone to their judgment. - </p> - <p> - It was a nine-days' wonder, and while his friends and acquaintances were - still discussing it at clubs and over tea-tables, Guy Spencer slipped - quietly abroad. When he returned to England, at the end of twelve months, - these tragic happenings had become little more than a memory to his world. - </p> - <p> - He stayed a week with the Southleighs at their ancestral home in Sussex, - and at the end of that week their friends read an important announcement - in <i>The Morning Post</i>: - </p> - <p> - "A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Mr. Guy - Spencer and his cousin, Lady Nina, only daughter and child of the Earl of - Southleigh." - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of This House To Let, by William Le Queux - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS HOUSE TO LET *** - -***** This file should be named 51307-h.htm or 51307-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/0/51307/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: This House To Let - -Author: William Le Queux - -Release Date: February 24, 2016 [EBook #51307] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS HOUSE TO LET *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -THIS HOUSE TO LET - -By William Le Queux - -Hodder And Stoughton Limited - -London - -1921 - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -|Very early on a July morning in 1919 Constable Brown was on his beat in -Kensington, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cathcart Square. - -Cathcart Square was an old-fashioned backwater of this highly -respectable suburb. It had not been built on any regular lines. Small, -narrow houses nestled comfortably by the side of what might be called -mansions. At the entrance to the Square itself, a narrow-fronted -milk-shop stood next door to a palatial residence. The dairy was very -old, and the Square, with its strange agglomeration of houses, had been -built round it. - -Constable Brown, a tall, strapping young fellow, took his duties easily. -He was quite contented with his lot, and not thirsting for promotion; he -had no overweening sense of his own abilities. He was friendly with all -the cooks on his beat, and from them he received very choice tit-bits. -In his case, the policeman's lot was a fairly happy one. - -The morning was a very bright one, a somewhat powerful summer sun had -just risen, and flooded the streets with light. - -He had no need of his lantern, early in the morning as it was. He -strolled slowly round the Square, turning observant eyes on an the -houses. In his patrol, he met nobody. The busy world of commerce was not -yet astir. Only from afar he heard the distant rumbling of market-carts -on their way to Covent Garden, market-carts laden with fruit and -vegetables. - -The Square was sleeping. In a few more hours it would wake to vigorous -life. The dairy shop would take down its shutters, and show signs of -animation. And when the dairy shop took down its shutters, Constable -Brown would be relieved, and go home to enjoy his well-earned rest. - -All was quiet in the Square. Brown had patrolled it several times in his -nightly vigil, and had discovered no signs of marauders. - -He paused opposite No. 10, one of the few big houses. He looked -contemplatively at the board announcing in large type--THIS HOUSE TO -LET: FURNISHED-with the agent's name displayed prominently at the foot -of the bill. - -"Only house to let in the Square," ruminated Brown, as he stood reading -the bill for perhaps the hundredth time. "It's been empty now for over -three months. It ought to have been snapped up long ago." - -He was right. Houses in Cathcart Square did not wait long for tenants. -Mr. Brown ruminated further, and provided his own solution. - -"Old Miles, the caretaker, has got too comfortable quarters, he doesn't -want to flit. When people come to view, he talks to them about damp, or -ghosts or beetles, and chokes them off. Artful old devil, Miles, and a -bit too fond of drink." - -Having finished his patrol of the Square itself, he passed along the -backs, abutting on a somewhat mean street, for a rather undesirable -neighbourhood had built itself around these somewhat stately houses. - -His perambulations brought him to the back of No. 10, the house to let. -His trained eye, accustomed to take in the smallest details, noticed -a broken pane of glass in the scullery window. He climbed over the low -railing which shut off the back premises from the mean street on which -they looked, and peered at the broken window-pane. From a general point -of view there was not much in it. Window-panes are broken every day. But -this was an empty house, looked after by a somewhat bibulous caretaker -of the name of Miles. A hundred chances to one that Miles had stumbled -against it, and broken it with his elbow. - -But although Constable Brown was not very brilliant, he was painstaking -and methodical; his mind was slow but tenacious. He did not accept facts -at their face value. - -After peering through the broken pane, he proceeded to further -experiments. He lifted the window, and it went up easily. He drew his -deductions swiftly. Somebody had entered the empty house. That somebody -had smashed the pane in order to get at the latch, had entered the -house, later emerged through the window and forgotten to fasten it. - -But why enter an empty house, where there was nothing to steal except -the heavy furniture left by the late tenant, a Mr. Washington, who was -abroad? Brown knew for a fact from the caretaker that all silver and -plate had been lodged at Mr. Washington's bank. It was a puzzle. - -One thing was clear: his duty lay straight before him. He must go -over that empty house. A careful examination might reveal something or -nothing. - -But he was a very cautious man, and with no great belief in his own -powers. He would not make the examination alone. He blew his whistle for -further assistance. - -In a few seconds, a fellow constable, a smart young fellow, hurried up -to him. Brown pointed to the broken pane, the uplifted window. The smart -young man projected himself through the open space. Brown followed, -explaining as he went. - -They searched the basement, the ground floor, and the floor above--with -no result. - -"Now for the caretaker," said the younger and the more quick-witted of -the two policemen. - -"He sleeps up at the top," answered Brown. "He generally comes home -half-seas over. If a regiment was hammering at the door he would not -wake till his sleep was done." - -They went up to the caretaker's room on the top floor. The bed was -empty. Miles had evidently taken a holiday. - -The young constable grunted. "Seems a reliable sort of chap, doesn't he? -I wonder how long he has been away? The house agents can tell us if -they have sent any clients to view the house during the last twenty-four -hours, and whether they have been able to get in or not. Anyway, for the -present, he seems out of this job." - -Brown assented. He did not talk as much as his quicker-witted colleague, -but his rather slow mind was working at its normal speed. - -"We've got to examine the other floors, you know. I've made up my mind -to one thing--whoever came in here, robbery wasn't the object." - -"There I quite agree," remarked the younger man. - -They made their way down from the top floor, which consisted of three -attics. On the floor beneath this, they searched every room and found -nothing. - -But on the floor underneath their search was rewarded. In a small -dressing-room, leading off the bedroom which fronted the square, they -found a gruesome sight--the lifeless body of a man, comparatively young, -somewhere about thirty-five or so, a deep gash in his throat, in his -stiffened hand a razor. - -The two men gazed, horrified. It was an early summer morning, the sun -was shining through the windows, the birds were twittering in the trees. -Shortly the whole world would be astir. And here, in the small room, lay -the senseless clay, oblivious of all these signs of awakening life and -vigour. - -Brown was the first to speak. "Suicide!" he said hoarsely. "The poor -devil wanted to make an end of it, and crept in here, knowing it was an -empty house." - -The younger man spoke less convincingly. "It looks like it. Suicide, -as you say." He paused a moment, and then spoke slowly: "I think -it's suicide, but it might be--mind you, I only say might be--a very -carefully planned murder. And now, let us overhaul his pockets, we may -find something to establish identification." - -Together they bent down, and rummaged the dead man's pockets. They found -plenty of material for identification. - -As they were engaged in their gruesome task, they heard the sound of a -latch-key being put in the front-door. They heard the door banged to, -and heavy footsteps ascended the staircase. - -"Miles come back after his spree," whispered Constable Brown to the -younger man. - -Miles, all unsuspecting of what had taken place during his absence, came -heavily up the stairs. It could not be said that he was by any means -drunk, but he was not absolutely sober. He was slowly recovering from -the previous night's debauch. - -Arrived on the floor where the two policemen were conducting their -investigations, absolute sobriety came back to him. He saw the open -door of the dressing-room, two men in uniform kneeling by the side of an -inanimate object. His brain cleared as if by magic. He recognised in one -of the kneeling constables his old friend Brown. - -He indulged in a little profanity, born of his emotion, which need not -be set down here. Shorn of certain expletives, natural to a man of his -class, he inquired of Brown what was the matter. - -Brown on his side was cool and explicit, and instead of answering the -caretaker's questions, he preferred to put a few of his own. - -"Nice sort of caretaker you are," he said in a contemptuous voice. -"You're paid to look after this house, aren't you? Where were you -all last night I should like to know? You can see what has happened. -Somebody has got in through the back, either to commit suicide, or with -a companion who brought him here to murder him. That's got to be found -out before the Coroner." - -Miles pulled himself together. He was by no means a fool when sober, and -in sight of this ghastly object the fumes of last night's intoxication -had absolutely cleared. - -"I can show an alibi right enough," he said doggedly. - -The younger and readier-witted of the two constables looked up and spoke -sharply. "So far, my friend, we have not accused you, but you may as -well tell us the details of your alibi." - -Miles's explanation, delivered in the somewhat halting way of his class, -bore the ring of truth. An old acquaintance of his, whose name and -address he gave, had looked him up the day before and asked him to spend -a day with him at Shepperton, where the said acquaintance kept a small -shop. Miles had succumbed to the temptation. . - -"It drives a man fair off his blooming chump to be tied by the leg in a -hole like this," he interpolated in the midst of his narrative, "waiting -for would-be tenants who never call. I daresay you chaps do your eight -or ten hours a day, but you're out in the open air, not looking on four -walls. You see a bit of life, I don't." - -Constable Brown cut across his narrative swiftly. - -"Never mind your grievances, Miles. If you could get a better job, I -guess you would take it. Where did you spend the night?" - -"At the same old show, down at Shepperton," replied the unabashed Miles. -"My old pal's a sport, I can tell you. When he shut up his shop, he plied -me with some of the best. I wasn't backward, I admit. I missed the -last train back, and slept on the sofa in the back room. When I woke, I -remembered things a bit, and got an early train home. Here I am. My old -pal Jack will tell you I'm speaking gospel truth." - -Neither of the two men listening to him had any doubt that his narrative -was a true one. He was a poor, weak, bibulous creature, but by no -stretch of the imagination could he be an accessory to the gruesome -happenings at No. 10. - -Even had he been at his post, as he should have been on this particular -night, he would have been sunk in a stertorous sleep, and have heard -nothing. - -But to make everything sure, Constable Brown pulled him along and forced -him to look at the dead man. - -"You have never seen him before, Miles? I mean he has not called to look -over the house or anything?" - -"No." Miles, looking shudderingly at the ghastly sight, was ready to -swear he had never seen him before. - -He turned his frightened gaze away. "It will be all over the town -to-night," he said ruefully. "We shall never let the house after this." - -"It will still be a soft job for you, Miles," retorted Brown, a little -spitefully. "You won't have to play up the damp and the beetles. You are -here for life, old man." - -"I know," said Miles in a gloomy tone. "But I shall see him staring at -me every minute of the day and night." - -The body was removed to the mortuary. The evening newspapers had -flaring headlines: "Gruesome Discovery in No. 10 Cathcart Square." An -enterprising journalist had got hold of Miles, and speedily discovering -his weakness, had taken him to the nearest public-house, and plied him -plentifully with liquor, with a view to a sensational article. - -The enterprising reporter made the best of his material, but it did not -amount to much. - -The caretaker knew nothing about the dead man, he was armed at all -points with his alibi. As regards the house itself, invested with -so much tragedy, the present tenant was a Mr. Washington, a man of -considerable means, now abroad. Mr. Washington was prepared to let it -furnished. The furniture was very valuable. - -To a public greedily anxious for the smallest details, the astute -journalist served up a nice little article, describing the expensive -furniture, and adding a short life-history of Mr. Washington, as -supplied by the reminiscent Miles. The public swallowed this article -eagerly and awaited further developments. - -These came with the inquest, and there was a somewhat tame ending to -what had promised to be a very sensational case. - -Some three months previously, a certain man named Reginald Davis had -been suspected of committing a murder while driving a motor-car -in Cornwall. The evidence, although circumstantial, had been very -convincing. The police had been on his track, but not quickly enough. -The man had eluded their vigilance, and run to earth somewhere. - -On the body of the dead man in Cathcart Square, the two constables had -found three letters addressed to Reginald Davis. Also a letter, -signed Reginald Davis, addressed to the Coroner in which he avowed his -intention of committing suicide at the earliest opportunity. - -It was fairly evident from this that the wretched man, hunted by the -police, and recognising that capture was imminent in the course of a few -days, had resolved upon the fatal step, had effected his entrance into -the lonely house in Cathcart Square, had found it even more deserted -than he imagined, and in that little dressing-room cheated the law. - -But, in addition to this overpowering evidence, there was added the fact -of identification. - -A tall, handsome young woman, giving the name of Caroline Masters, had -been to the mortuary, and identified the body as that of her brother, -Reginald Davis. - -She gave her evidence before the Coroner with commendable composure, -broken now and again with a little natural grief. Her disclosures were -briefly as follows. - -Reginald had always been the black sheep of the family, not naturally -vicious, but impetuous, fiery-tempered and ungovernable. If he was -guilty of the murder in Cornwall, it had been due to no natural criminal -instinct, but to a fit of unbridled passion. Her theory was that remorse -had weighed upon him for this unpremeditated crime, and that, through -remorse and the fear of justice overtaking him, he had crept into this -lonely house and passed sentence on himself. - -She made a very great impression on the Court by the calm and dignified -way in which she gave her evidence. The Coroner put to her a few -questions. She was quite certain that the body was that of her brother, -Reginald Davis? Were there any other members of the family who could -support her in her identification? - -No, there were no other members of the family alive. There was another -brother dead, and a sister of whose whereabouts she knew nothing. Her -father had been a strange man, he had quarrelled with all the members -of his family, and she had never known one of them. Her mother had died -some years ago. Her voice broke a little as she related these touching -circumstances of her domestic life, more especially when she added she -was a widow, her husband having been killed in the Great War. - -There seemed but one possible verdict. The dead man, it was clearly -established, was Reginald Davis, first by the letters found upon him, -secondly by his sister's identification. - -It was also clear that Reginald Davis, hunted by the police, and knowing -that it was only a question of days or weeks before he would be run to -earth, had considered the two alternatives of self-destruction or the -extreme penalty of the law--and that he had chosen the former. - -The verdict was recorded. Mrs. Masters was complimented on the way -in which she had given her evidence. The Coroner assured her that the -sympathy of the Court was with her. The tears Welled into her eyes -as she listened to the Coroner's well-chosen phrases. She bowed her -grateful thanks. - -Constable Brown was waiting in the corridor as she came out. Beside -him stood the younger policeman who had assisted him on that very -well-remembered night in Cathcart Square. - -Brown touched his helmet. "A very trying time for you, ma'am," he said, -"a very trying time. You went through it bravely." - -She smiled Wanly. "My poor brother! He had so many good points. But it -is better as it is. I shudder to think of what might have been, if he -had not done this dreadful thing." - -"Much the best way, ma'am, much the best way," corroborated Brown. - -She went out, a graceful figure, and Brown turned to his younger -colleague. - -"A remarkable case, old chap. As we said all along, suicide." - -The younger man paused a little before he replied. It may be mentioned -that a few months later he was promoted to the detective force in -consequence of some rather clever work connected with a gang of coiners -in an obscure corner of the West End. - -"It looks like it, but I'm not quite as sure as you are," he said -laconically. - -Brown stared, but made no comment. A verdict was a verdict. His young -colleague had the inexperience and the vanity of youth, and thought he -was more clever than other people, perhaps! - -But on one thing the young constable had made up his mind, and that was -that Miles, the bibulous caretaker, had not told the truth when in the -witness-box. He came to this conclusion from his demeanour. Miles swore -that he had no knowledge of the dead man, but the constable believed -this to be a lie. - -And with the tame ending of the Coroner's inquest, the mystery of No. -10 Cathcart Square ceased to hold the public interest. Plenty of other -things came on to attract their attention. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -|In the year before the Great War, when to all appearance there was not -a cloud upon the horizon, when only a few statesmen felt "profoundly -uneasy," the secret of that uneasiness being carefully locked away in -their own breasts, and hidden from the general public--in that year of -1913, in the month of March, the Twenty-fifth Lancers were quartered at -the town of Blankfield, in Yorkshire. - -The Twenty-fifth was a crack regiment. Most of the officers were -members of the aristocracy, a few of the plutocracy, that portion of -the plutocracy which on account of its wealth had been adopted into a -superior world by marriage with its aristocratic daughters. - -They were a fine set of clean-minded, healthy living, sporting young -fellows. They rode to hounds, they played polo when there was any going, -they shot over the coverts of their friends, they made love to all the -pretty girls they came across in a gallant and desultory fashion, loving -and riding away. - -It cannot be said that they took their professional duties in too -serious a fashion. But they were brave as lions, and when the time came -to prove their mettle, none of their relatives had cause to blush for -their record. - -The memories of most of them were enshrined deeply in the hearts of -wailing mothers and weeping sweethearts, when the great holocaust came. - -Foremost amongst this band of gay spirits and resolute sportsmen was -a certain Captain Murchison, "Hughie," as he was always called by his -intimates. - -"Hughie" was not a pure aristocrat. His father, a man of fabulous -wealth, was the head of the great brewing firm of Murchison, Delaroyd & -Co., the fourth in succession, for the big brewery had been founded over -a hundred years ago. - -It is supposed, in the case of self-made men, that it requires three -generations to make a gentleman. Anyway, the present Sir Hugh had won -his spurs by the fact of belonging to the fourth. And he had further -firmly established his position by marrying Lady Gertrude Marchmont, -a daughter of the Earl of Mounthaven. The Marchmonts had blue blood in -profusion, they ere one of the oldest families in the Kingdom, only just -being beaten by such superior people as the Howards, the Talbots, and -the Nevilles. - -Captain Murchison was, therefore, plutocrat on the father's side, -aristocrat of aristocrat on the mother's. But he did not owe his -popularity to these adventitious circumstances. The fact that he was the -most popular man in his regiment was due to his own sterling qualities. - -In the first place, he was a man of the most unbounded generosity and -the most serene good-humour. He had captained the Eleven at Eton, and -he was one of the best shots, also one of the best polo-players, in -England. Needless to say that he was a man's man. The fact that he was -also equally a woman's man can be easily explained. He boasted more than -ordinary good looks, and he had a charming, deferential way with women -that captivated them at once. - -The Twenty-fifth had a very good time at Blankfield, on the whole. The -houses of the "county" were, of course, open to such a distinguished -regiment, but perhaps they had a rather jollier time amongst the rather -limited circle of rich townsfolk whom they condescended to visit: -the people who, at the best, had only a nodding acquaintance with the -"county." - -Murchison was a born sportsman. Hunting, polo, shooting, cricket, -occupied nearly all his waking thoughts, except those few that were -claimed by his professional duties. Popular as he was with women, not -a single member of the weaker and more charming sex had made any real -impression on him up to the present. - -He had had several flirtations with charming girls, of course: he might -have indulged in a few sentimental passages with certain more or less -detached, or semi-detached, married women. The latter very rarely, for -although by no means a saint he was a very clean-minded young man, and -held rather rigid notions as to what might be done, and what ought not -to be done. - -Anyway at this particular moment he was quite heart-whole. - -And then, one day, in this rather sleepy town of Blankfield, an -adventure befell him. It was not strictly a common or garden adventure, -for more than one reason. - -The woman, or rather girl, who was concerned in it, for looking at her -in a severe light she did not appeal to be more than twenty, bore upon -her no marks of the shameless adventuress. It was easy to see that she -was not a member of his own world, the world of plutocracy mingled -into aristocracy by judicious intermarriage. The "county" would not, -of course, open their doors to her. According to her own account, the -respectable "villadom" of the sleepy old town had not called upon her, -on account of the absence of convincing credentials. - -The meeting happened in this way. Hugh found himself with a blank -afternoon, an afternoon that had not been filled up. He could call -at lots of houses and get tea. But, at this period, he was becoming a -little fed-up with the Blankfield teas, the simpering girls, the astute -mothers who wanted to take the heir of the Murchison millions off his -guard, and hook him for a son-in-law. - -Coming from a long line of successful tradesmen, Hugh had rather less -brains than he ought to have acquired by heredity. Still, he was no -fool. As long as a proposition was not too complex, he could size it -up pretty accurately. And he sized up the Blankfield hospitality at its -true worth. - -He walked down the High Street, and turned into the first tea-shop. -It was a well-known establishment, and the dashing members of the -Twenty-fifth were wont to invite hither for tea some of the Blankfield -maidens who Were not too particular as to chaperonage. - -He expected to find here a good few of his brother officers. To his -surprise, he did not see one. But the room was very full. To a casual -observer, every table seemed occupied. He was about to turn away, when a -waitress, who knew him well, touched him on the arm. - -"It's quite all right, Captain Murchison,"--Hugh had arrived at -seniority very early: "there's a table up there at the far end. There's -only a young lady there, and she has very nearly finished her tea." - -The young lady in question was quite young; Hugh decided from the first -swift glance at her that she could not be more than twenty. She was -exceedingly pretty, with wavy light hair and soft brown eyes. She wore -an air of composure remarkable in one so youthful. - -The young man knew her well by sight, as did his brother officers. She -was frequently to be seen in the High Street, flitting in and out -shops, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a rather common-looking -person, some ten years her senior. It was said they were brother and -sister and their name was Burton. - -They had arrived in Blankfield about a couple of months ago, and taken a -moderate sized house on the London Road, a little in the outskirts of -the town. But though they had been here for these two months, they knew -nobody. Not a soul had called upon them: for the villadom of Blankfield -was very select, and had to know something about newcomers before it -stretched out a welcoming hand. About the Burtons nothing seemed to be -known, and until some reliable information was forthcoming, they would -be ostracised. - -The shop was very crowded, and most girls of her age might have felt -embarrassed by her loneliness. But, although many admiring glances -were levelled at her from the few masculine occupants, she seemed quite -unperturbed and unconscious, looking neither to the right nor the -left, but taking in everything that was going on, under lowered eyelids -veiling those pretty brown eyes. - -She gave him one swift glance as he sat down, and then went on -composedly with her tea. There was nothing in the glance that was either -provocative or inviting. Of the two, Hugh felt much more embarrassed -than she did. He wondered if she was as stand-offish as she looked. If -he addressed a remark to her, would she snub him? - -Anyway he determined to put it to the proof. "I do hope I am not -intruding, but it was Hobson's choice, you know; this is the only vacant -table." - -No, she was not going to snub him. On the contrary, she gave him a very -pleasant smile, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was a -refined and pleasant one. - -"There is hardly any question of intruding in a public place like this. -I cannot expect them to turn customers away in order that I may sit by -myself." - -It was not a bad beginning, thought Hugh. It was evident she was not -disinclined to enter into a little desultory conversation with a man who -she knew was a gentleman, and not likely to take undue advantage of her -absence of conventionality. - -Hugh went on with growing boldness. He had often said to his great chum -Jack Pomfret that it was a thousand pities this pretty girl was not in -Blankfield Society, she seemed so much more attractive than the other -girls who were in it. - -"We haven't been introduced, of course, but I know you very well by -sight. There is hardly a day that I do not meet you about here. And I -know your name, too. You are Miss Burton, are you not? And you live with -your brother at that nice little house on the London Road." - -"Quite right." Miss Burton nodded her pretty head. She added with a -little silvery laugh: "we can't be introduced, unless the waitress took -the kind office upon herself, for I don't know a soul in the place. -we have been here two months, and we have been let severely alone. I -suppose if we stayed here for twenty years it would be the same. Of -course, we didn't expect to get into 'county' Society, but we must be -quite as good as heaps of people in the town and outskirts." - -Hugh was a little embarrassed by these very frank remarks. He observed -lamely that it was a shame, and indulged in some rather inane remarks on -the snobbishness of provincial towns. - -"You must find it awfully dull," he ventured after a brief pause. During -the short silence, Miss Burton had ordered herself some more tea. It was -evident that she was not desirous of abruptly terminating this pleasant -_tete-a-tete_. The waitress drew her own conclusions from the further -order, and smiled a little as she turned away. - -"I should be a hypocrite if I pretended the contrary. Of course, -housekeeping takes up a good bit of my time, and I read a good deal, and -do a lot of fancy-work. But all the same, it is a state of isolation, -not an outside person to speak to from one week-end to the other. Of -course I hear all that is going on from the tradespeople, and I know -the names of the principal persons here whom I constantly meet and never -speak to. I know, for instance, that you are Captain Murchison. I think -I know the names of all your brother officers." - -"What made you come here, if it is not a rude question?" asked Hugh -bluntly. "It was surely a risky experiment, landing yourself in a town -like this, without any introductions." - -"I told my brother so when he first proposed it," replied Miss Burton -calmly. "But, although he is one of the best fellows in the world, he -is frightfully obstinate. He had stayed at an hotel here for a few days -some years ago, and he had taken a violent fancy to the place. He was -quite sure everybody would make a rush for us, the moment we arrived." - -Miss Burton proceeded to draw on her gloves. During this explanatory -conversation, she had consumed her second cup of tea. She called the -waitress and paid her bill. - -"I must be going now," she said. "I have quite enjoyed this little chat, -although I am sure you will think very badly of me for having confided -so much to a stranger. I really don't know what made me do it--I suppose -I got tired of having kept silence for so long." - -Yes, he could understand that. Poor, pretty little girl, just at an age -when all the pleasures of youth should be open to her, and to have to -pass her life in the society of that rather common-looking brother, good -fellow as she declared him to be. - -"I have enjoyed the meeting immensely, too," said Hugh heartily. "I only -wish we could come across each other at some of these Blankfield houses, -stupid and dull as they generally are." - -And then, the pretty Miss Burton fired her last shot as she rose to -leave: - -"I have been unconventional enough from the beginning, and if I can do -it without blushing, I am going to be more unconventional still. If you -cared to come up to Rosemount one afternoon, I am sure my brother would -be pleased to see you." - -Murchison was very embarrassed by the suggestion, although she did not -proffer it in any bold fashion. - -"I shall be delighted," he stammered. "I will run up one afternoon." -Of course when he said this he had very little intention of keeping his -promise. To enjoy a mild sort of flirtation with an exceedingly pretty -girl was one thing. To go to her house and make the acquaintance of her -brother, who he was certain was not a gentleman, was quite a -different proposition, and might land him in all sorts of unpleasant -complications. - -He also had an uneasy conviction that Miss Burton was remarkably -self-assured for such a young woman. She had spoken of blushing when -she gave him the invitation, but she had not done so. Not the faintest -colour showed on her cheek, and the glance that met his was perfectly -steady and unwavering. She must either be very innocent, or, young as -she was, she had acquired the experience and self-possession of a much -older woman. He would like to think it all out. - -The girl nodded in a friendly fashion, and tripped away, leaving Hugh -Murchison to finish his tea, and ponder over what had happened. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -|When Hugh got back to his quarters the first thing he did was to -hunt up his great friend Jack Pomfret. He found that young gentleman -stretched in front of a blazing fire--ft was a very chilly March--and -smoking a cigar nearly as big as himself. Jack Pomfret, it may be -said, was quite a small man, of about the size and weight that would be -associated with the coxswain of a 'Varsity boat. - -Next to Murchison, perhaps Pomfret was the most popular man in the -regiment. He was certainly the poorest, for although he came of an -aristocratic family, the said family had very little to bless themselves -with. - -If it had been left to his immediate relatives, Jack would have had to -enter a line regiment, and subsist on his pay, supplemented by more or -less regular small remittances from his hard-up father. - -But fortune had smiled on Jack when he was in his cradle. A rich -great-aunt had been his godmother, and from the date of his christening -had taken him under her wing. She had been crossed in love when quite -a girl, would never marry. Jack Pomfret had a handsome, but not an -extravagant, allowance now, and he would come into his great-aunt's -fortune when she died. - -Jack always complained that his aunt was a bit thrifty, and did not -fully understand the imperative necessities of a young subaltern in an -expensive regiment like the Twenty-fifth. - -As a matter of fact, Miss Harding, his mother's youngest sister, -suffered from acute indigestion, existed principally on soda-water and -biscuits, lived in a comparatively small house with one manservant and -two maids, and saved a great deal every year out of a large income. She -loved Jack very much, but she had little or no sympathy with the follies -and indiscretions of youth. She had a hazy sort of idea that an officer -should live within his pay, as she lived well within her income. -Needless to say that Jack had long disabused her of this silly idea. - -"Great tidings, old man," cried Murchison, breaking in upon the -meditative little man, blowing great clouds of smoke. "I'll give you six -guesses." - -"Not in a guessing mood," returned Jack shortly. "All my brain-power is -used up. I am trying to concoct a letter to the dear old aunt--God bless -her, she is one of the best!--insinuating gently that a cheque for a -couple of hundred would be very convenient at the present moment." - -Murchison took a seat. "Silly old ass," he said in a kindly tone, "if -you want a couple of hundred have it from me, and don't worry about -the aunt. You can pay me when she stumps-up. From what you have told me -about your respected relative, it might be a lengthy business. I suppose -you will plead debts. She might offer to discharge them, and ask the -names of the creditors. In that case, old chap, you wouldn't handle much -personally, would you?" - -Pomfret laughed genially. He was always very hard-up, but he was never -depressed for very long. There was always a silver lining to every -cloud. - -"She's the sweetest, dearest soul on God's earth," he said in a tone of -conviction. "But you know, Hughie old man, she doesn't understand--I say -emphatically, she doesn't understand--you know what I mean. She is -early Victorian. As to your suggestion, I appreciate it very much, but -emphatically, no." He added, with a whimsical smile: "Yours is a loan, -I should have to pay back; Heaven knows when I could do so. The dear old -aunt, well, it is a gift, no question of paying back. I haven't thought -it all out yet, but in the early cool of to-morrow morning, I shall -write her a beautiful and touching letter. I know by experience it will -bring a cheque." - -"You're an artful young devil, I know," said Murchison. Straight as -a die himself, he was not too appreciative of his friend's diplomatic -methods. - -On the other hand, was he justified in criticising? He had a magnificent -allowance from his opulent father. Poor Jack, with a somewhat -puritanical and niggardly aunt at his back, had just to worry along, and -live in this expensive regiment from hand to mouth. - -There was no more to be said on this subject. - -"Well, Jack, are you in a mood to listen to my news?" - -Pomfret leaned forward, and flicked the ash oft his cigar. "Yes, I -think I am. Begone dull care! I shall write that letter the first thing -to-morrow morning." - -"Well, I have made the acquaintance of that pretty Burton girl, whom -nobody in Blankfield visits." - -Mr. Pomfret emitted a little chuckling sound. "Lucky devil. How did you -do it? I thought she was unapproachable. She walks down the High Street, -'with a haughty stare, and her nose in the air,' and looks neither to -left nor right. How did you manage it, old man?" - -Hugh laughed. "Oh, as easy as anything. Just dropped in to Winkley's, -expecting to see a lot of you fellows with your best girls. Not a soul -there I knew. Room full--every table full, save for one at which Miss -Burton was sitting alone--sat at the one table, _vis-a-vis_ with Miss -Burton. There it is in a nutshell." - -Mr. Pomfret grinned broadly. "Oh, Hughie, what I would have given for -your chance. You know I am awfully gone on that girl, she is so sweet -and dainty, far and away the prettiest girl in Blankfield. What did you -make of your chance?" - -"As much as could be made in five or ten minutes. She told me a lot -about things, her disappointment in finding that the Blankfield people -would not call upon her, and that, excepting her brother, she had not a -soul to speak to." - -"Poor little soul!" said Mr. Pomfret, in a voice of the deepest -sympathy. "Poor little soul!" he repeated. - -"Well, we talked for some little time, some ten minutes perhaps, I don't -think it could have been much longer. And then--then--you will never -believe it, Jack--she asked me to call, and be introduced to her -brother." - -Mr. Pomfret was quite young, in fact he was the baby of the regiment. -But having been educated at a public school, he had learned a certain -amount of worldly wisdom rather early. He gave expression to it now. - -"If she were living with her mother, or a maiden aunt, Hughie, the thing -would be so easy. But the brother, we have seen him walking beside that -lovely girl. It would be difficult to class him. It would be perhaps too -much to say he was either a bounder or a cad--he's not boisterous enough -for the one or common enough for the other. But clearly, he's not a -gentleman or the imitation of one." - -"No," answered Hugh. "Your description of the brother quite fits. He is -neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red-herring, as the old saw has -it. Then the girl is so different. She is, to an extent, frank and -unconventional." - -"She must be, or she wouldn't have asked you to call upon her," -interrupted the astute Mr. Pomfret. - -"Quite so, I perfectly agree. But upon my soul, Jack, she has the most -perfect manners. She does these sort of things in such a way that you -cease to wonder why she does them." - -"I understand." Mr. Pomfret looked very wise. "There's a wonderful -fascination about the girl. She radiates it, even when you pass her in -the street. By Gad, there's not a young woman in Blankfield who can -hold a candle to her. Well, Hughie, what are you going to do about the -invitation?" - -"I'm in two minds, old man, to go or stay away. There's the brother, you -see." - -"There's the brother," repeated Mr. Pomfret, "and a dashed disappointing -sort of a brother, too. If it had only been a mother, or a maiden aunt! -what a priceless opportunity! And yet it seems a bit too good to be -lost." - -"But the brother, what about him?" Hugh insisted. - -"The brother is, of course, a stumbling-block. You can't ask him to -Mess. 'Old Fireworks' will stand more from you than anybody, but he -would never stand Burton. He would be calling him 'Your Grace' or 'Your -worship' or something." - -"Old Fireworks," it may be explained, was the nickname of the respected -Colonel of the gallant Twenty-fifth Lancers. It had been conferred -upon him, on account of his explosive temper. He was also a rigid -disciplinarian. - -"I shall not go," said Hugh after a brief pause. - -Mr. Pomfret was thinking deeply. He pulled at his big cigar in a -meditative fashion. Then at length, out of his wisdom, he spoke: - -"Let us reason this out, my well-beloved friend. A very pretty girl asks -you to go and see her, she is unfortunately hampered by an undesirable -brother. You accept their hospitality, but you know he is not a man -you can ask to Mess. But you can take him to an hotel, and feed him up -there. Tell him the Colonel's kicked up rough about guests, any lie you -like, to save his _amour propre_." - -"A good idea, Jack. Have you anything more to say? Don't forget that -if I go to Rosemount, the news will be all over Blankfield in five -minutes." - -Mr. Pomfret snapped his fingers. "Who cares a fig for the Blankfield -people? Everybody knows, or ought to know, that a soldier loves and -rides away. And the Blankfield girls are dull enough, Heaven knows, I -wouldn't give a thought to them." - -"Then you advise me to call, and be introduced to the brother, eh?" - -"Of course, we shall be off in another two months, and leave only tender -memories behind us." Mr. Pomfret was a practical person, if ever -there was one. "Let us seize the passing day. By the way, have you any -objection to taking me up to call with you, when you go? Say no, if you -have the slightest objection." - -Hugh Murchison looked at him squarely. "No, old chap, not the slightest. -The girl interests me in a way, chiefly, I think, because I can't -quite make her out, can't determine whether she is very cunning or very -simple, but I am not attracted in the ordinary sense. I take it you -are." - -Pomfret's look of indifference changed to one of gravity. "Yes, Hughie, -I am. I would like to see that girl at close quarters." - -Hugh rose. "Right, we will call together, and in the meantime we will -keep it from the other fellows?" - -"Good Heavens, I should think so, we should be chaffed to death," was -Jack's fervent answer. - -A few days later, the two young men walked to Rosemount. It was a villa -sort of house, set in a small garden, very carefully kept. The windows -were ornamented with boxes of flowers. Small as the establishment was, -there was an air of elegance about it, an elegance perhaps of restricted -means but of refined taste. - -Pomfret nudged his senior officer. "I say, they've turned it into a very -decent sort of little crib, haven't they? I should say that is due to -the girl." - -Hugh laughed. "Perhaps it is the brother after all. He might be an -artist, you know. Artists are often very rum-looking chaps." - -"Artist be hanged," said Pomfret emphatically. "I'll bet you a fiver he -isn't an artist, whatever he is. A 'bookie' or a 'bookie's' tout, more -likely." - -At the end of this short colloquy, they had reached the hall door. -A very smart maidservant, in a becoming cap and apron, opened it. In -answer to their inquiry, Miss Burton was in. - -They were shown into the drawing-room. The young mistress of the house -was reclining in an easy-chair; an open book lay on her lap. - -She advanced towards them with that peculiar air of self-possession -which had so impressed Hugh on his first meeting in the tea-shop. A -hostess with years of social experience could not have been more at her -ease than this young girl. - -"How nice of you to come, after that very vague invitation," she said, -in her clear, silvery voice. - -She addressed Murchison first, and then turned swiftly to Pomfret, in -whose eyes she doubtless recognised frank admiration of her peculiar -attractiveness. - -"I know your friend is going to introduce you in proper form. But it is -really quite unnecessary. I know you are Mr. Pomfret. I have learned the -names of all the officers from the tradespeople, also, my only friends -in Blankfield. Perhaps Captain Murchison has told you what I confided -to him the other day, that we are as isolated here as if we were on a -desert island." - -Mr. Pomfret sat down beside her on a small Chesterfield. From his -vantage point he could gaze into the beautiful eyes, he could note the -lustre of that fair, wavy hair. - -"A beastly shame," growled the young subaltern, at a loss for -appropriate words to express the enormities of Blankfield Society. - -She turned away lightly, as if the subject interested her no further. - -"I think we will have tea. My brother is engaged in scientific pursuits. -when he can tear himself away, he will join us. Captain Murchison, will -you kindly ring the bell?" - -Truly, she had the manners of a woman of the world. She took the homage -of the two men as an accomplished fact. The villadom of Blankfield -could not produce such a hostess, so free from fussiness or exaggerated -hospitality. You would have to go to the "county" to find her parallel. -The two men exchanged appreciative glances. Whatever her origin, Miss -Burton could shine in any circle in which she found herself permanently, -or temporarily, located. - -The tea was served, and over the tea-cups they chatted in desultory -fashion. Then the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. Burton appeared. -From the moment of his appearance, the atmosphere seemed to be changed. -He advanced towards them with outstretched hands. His manner was -extremely cordial, but it went beyond the limits of good taste. His -tones were breezy but blusterous. There was a rasping and a vulgar ring -in his voice. - -"Welcome to our humble abode, gentlemen. It is very brave of you to come -and visit the boycotted ones." - -Hugh and Jack Pomfret fidgeted in their chairs. This common-looking -young man was a bit too communicative about his private affairs. They -had a slight suspicion that he had been indulging in alcohol, his manner -was so unrestrained. - -Mr. Burton sank down in his chair, and took a cup of tea from the hands -of his attentive sister. The visitors did not see it, but she shot a -warning glance at him, and in face of that warning glance, Mr. Burton, -by a strong effort, pulled himself together. - -"You see, gentlemen, I feel very sore about this matter; my sister has a -calmer temperament, and she takes things as they come. Here we came from -the North of Ireland, from a little town where we were highly looked up -to, where we knew every man, woman and child in the place. We came here, -and, as I say, we are boycotted." - -Miss Burton looked at him severely. "George, I do not think it is very -good taste of you to inflict your grievances upon these gentlemen, who -have just come to make an afternoon call. Don't you think you could -soothe your nerves better by getting back to your laboratory, or -whatever you call it?" - -Mr. Burton accepted the hint, and rose. He waved a genial hand towards -the visitors. - -"You will excuse me for a few moments. I have a most important -experiment on. But I shall be back very shortly: I shall see you again -before you leave." - -The two young men devoutly wished that they might not see him again. -The man was a confirmed and innate vulgarian. Both he and his sister, -no doubt, felt very sore about their social ostracism, but how different -were the methods of expression indulged in by the two. She explained -the situation with a proud dignity, hiding her chagrin with a show of -indifference. He was exposing his gaping wounds to the public eye with -an air of ostentation. - -"I must ask you to excuse my brother," said Miss Burton when -her ebullient relative had left the room. "He has the true Irish -temperament, it is impossible for him to conceal his feelings. He would -like to go down the High Street, trailing his coat behind him, and -inviting the residents to tread upon it, in real Irish fashion, so that -he could indulge in a free fight with them." - -The young men laughed cordially. They felt that a somewhat awkward -situation had been saved by her ready tact, her rather humorous -explanation. - -But Murchison, the more level-headed of the two, looked at her very -fixedly, as he said, "But you are Irish, too. How is it that you have -learned to control your feelings so successfully?" - -At such a direct question, he would have expected her to flush a little; -at any rate, show some slight symptoms of embarrassment. But this -remarkably self-possessed girl of twenty or thereabouts was as cool as a -cucumber. She laughed her little silvery laugh. - -"My brother and I are as wide apart as the North and South Poles," she -said lightly. "Many people have commented on the fact. Would you like to -know the reason?" - -She directed a rather challenging glance in the direction of Pomfret, -whom she rightly judged to be more susceptible to feminine influence -than his friend. - -"I should like to very much," was the subaltern's answer. That eloquent -glance had completely subjugated the young man. - -"Well, listen. My father was a hard-riding, gambling, hard-drinking -Irish squire, who squandered his money and left little but debts behind -him. My brother takes after him in certain qualities, thank Heaven -not his least desirables ones. My mother was an Englishwoman, rather -a puritanical sort of woman, who fell in love, perhaps a little -injudiciously, and I think wore her life out in the attempt to curb my -father's unhappy propensities. I take after my mother. You understand? -George is really my half-brother by my father's first wife." - -Pomfret nodded his head gravely. "I quite understand," he said, and his -tone was one of conviction. Murchison preserved a benevolent attitude of -neutrality. He was still thinking it all out. - -Miss Burton was very pretty, nay, more than pretty, very charming, very -attractive, gifted with a marvellous self-possession, very clever, -very adroit. But was she as genuine and frank as she seemed? Pomfret -evidently thought so, but Murchison was not quite sure. - -Mr. George Burton, who took after his Irish father in several respects, -according to his sister's account, made a re-appearance before the -visitors left. There had been just a little suspicion at first that he -had been indulging in the hard-drinking habits of his male parent. If -so, that suspicion must be at once removed. He was bright, breezy and -blusterous, but he was certainly master of himself. He advanced with the -most cordial air. - -"Gentlemen, I feel I owe you an apology. I had no right to intrude my -private grievances upon you, even although I am very possessed with -them. Please put it down to my Irish temperament. You will forgive me, I -am sure." - -He stretched out appealing hands, the hands of the plebeian as Murchison -was quick to notice, nails bitten to the quick, coarse fingers and -thumbs. - -Murchison quietly ignored the outstretched hand. So did Pomfret, -subjugated as he was with the charm and attractiveness of Miss Burton. -He did not quite feel that he wanted to shake hands with this very -terrible brother, who took after his Irish father. - -"I apologise most sincerely, gentlemen," he repeated, "for my outburst -just now. I had no right to inflict upon you a recital of my private -grievances against the inhabitants of this wretched town. But I am a -wild, excitable Irishman, whatever is in my mind has to come out. Please -forgive me; I know my sister Norah never will." - -He looked appealingly at the girl who sat there, calm and self-possessed -as always, with a slight expression of contempt upon her charming face. - -"I have already made excuses for you to Captain Murchison and Mr. -Pomfret," she said coldly. - -The visitors were very much embarrassed. What could they say to this -dreadful person who seemed so utterly lacking in all the qualities -of good breeding? Hugh remained silent, Pomfret opened his lips and -murmured something about the whole affair being very regrettable. - -But these somewhat incoherent remarks were quite enough to restore Mr. -Burton to his normal state of easy buoyancy. He smiled affably. - -"So that is all over. Well, I am delighted to see you, and it will not -be my fault if your first visit is your last. Now, I propose you come -round and have a little bit of dinner with us soon, so that we may get -to know each other better. Any night that you are at liberty will suit -us. _We_ are not overwhelmed with invitations, as you can understand -from what I have told you." - -If Murchison had been by himself, he would have politely shelved the -invitation. Miss Burton, who took after her English mother, was quite -decent and ladylike. The brother was insufferable. Vulgarity, so to -speak, oozed from him. He was offensive even in his geniality. In short, -he was impossible. - -But Pomfret took the wind out of his senior's sails. - -"Sorry we are quite full up this week, but hardly anything on next. -Shall we say Monday?" - -Miss Burton took the matter out of her brother's hands by turning -directly to Murchison. - -"Monday, of course, will suit us. Will it suit you?" she asked him -pointedly. - -Taken by surprise, the unhappy young man could only mutter a reluctant -affirmative. A few minutes later they left, pledged to partake of the -Burtons' hospitality on the following Monday. - -When they were safely outside, Murchison spoke severely to his brother -officer. - -"You've let us in for a nice thing. If you had left it to me, I would -have got out of that dinner somehow." - -"But I didn't want to get out of it," replied the unabashed junior. -"We knew the brother was pretty bad all along. I don't know that on the -whole he is much worse than we imagined. But she's a ripping girl. I -want to see more of her." - -"You silly young ass," growled Murchison; "I believe you've fallen head -over ears in love with her." - -And Pomfret, one of the most mercurial and light-hearted of subalterns, -answered quite gravely: - -"I rather fancy I have. I've never met a girl who appealed to me in -quite the same sort of way." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -|As a result of his visit to Rosemount, Hugh Murchison was very -perturbed in his mind. He blamed himself severely for having been -tempted into that rather intimate conversation at the tea-shop. Miss -Burton was attractive enough, and lady-like enough, to excuse any man -for taking advantage of his obvious opportunities, but he had been a -fool to go farther. He ought never to have set his foot in the house of -people of whom he knew nothing. - -It was all Jack Pomfret's fault, he decided hastily. It was his -influence, his keen desire to make the girl's acquaintance, that had -weighed down his friend's prudence. For, if left to himself, Hugh was -quite sure that he would have dallied and dallied till all inclination -to call at Rosemount had died down. - -And Pomfret had owned to being greatly impressed with the fair young -chatelaine. He had admitted that he had never met a girl who had -appealed to him in quite the same sort of way. In fact, it was easy to -see he had fallen desperately in love with her. - -And Jack was just one of those light-hearted, susceptible sort of chaps -who have not an atom of common-sense in their composition, who will obey -their impulses, regardless of consequences. - -And he was not his own master. His career was practically at the -disposal of his somewhat puritanical aunt. It was just on the cards that -Jack would be mad enough to propose to this girl who had so bewitched -him. One could imagine how the aunt would receive such a communication. - -There was one little ray of hope, however. If Jack did commit such a -crowning folly, he would be far too honourable not to acquaint Miss -Burton with his circumstances. Hugh was fairly convinced that the young -lady knew how to take care of herself. And, even if she did fall in love -with Jack, as he had done with her, and be inclined to make a fool of -herself, there was the objectionable brother to be reckoned with. He -would certainly not allow his sister to engage herself to a man, except -with the consent of that man's family. - -All the same, it was as well to avoid any embarrassing entanglements, -if possible. It is easy to retrace your steps when you have only just -started. - -With this object in view, Murchison sought his friend on the Sunday -preceding the day on which they were to present themselves at Rosemount. - -"Jack, old man, I have been thinking----" he began. - -Mr. Pomfret lifted a warning finger. "My dear friend and mentor, don't -indulge in such violent processes. It's very bad for you." - -"Don't be an ass, Jack. You are not really funny when you say that sort -of thing. I've been thinking over this business to-morrow, and, frankly, -I don't relish the prospect. We had better cut it out." - -Pomfret's face took on an obstinate expression. "You are speaking -for yourself, of course. For my part, I don't intend to break my -appointment. In my opinion, it would be an awfully low-down thing to do. -If you didn't want to go, you shouldn't have accepted." - -It was evident the young man was not in a very reasonable frame of mind, -equally evident he would require very careful handling. - -"Now, Jack, don't get off the handles. You know you are an awfully -impetuous chap, and that I have much the cooler head of the two. I have -been thinking it all out the last day or two, and I don't like the look -of it." - -"You informed me just now that you had been thinking," replied Mr. -Pomfret in the same sarcastic strain. "There is no need to dwell upon -the fact. It is obvious." - -But the elder man was not to be ruffled. If anything unpleasant came of -this sudden acquaintance he would lay the blame on himself for having -mentioned that little incident of the tea-shop, and inspired the -mercurial Jack's love of the daring and adventurous. - -"I don't know that I did accept, as a matter of fact, except by -implication. I was about to return an evasive answer, leave it in the -air, so to speak, when you cut in and jumped at the invitation for -both." - -This was true, and Mr. Pomfret's air lost a little of its jaunty -confidence. "Well, if you think I lugged you in, get out of it yourself. -Of course you will have to tell some beastly lie that they will see -through at once. Anyway I am going, and that's flat." - -"If you go, I shall go," said Hugh firmly. "But I would like you to -listen to me for a few moments, and put things before you as they -present themselves to me." - -"Fire away, then," was Pomfret's answer, but it was delivered in a very -ungracious tone. - -"Of course we are both agreed about the brother," began Hugh mildly. - -The other interrupted impatiently: "The brother be hanged. We are not -going to the house for the brother's sake, but because of the sister. -what's the use of blinking the fact? If you had met him in the tea-shop -instead of her, I don't suppose you would have wasted a word on him, no -more should I. But I don't see why that pretty girl should be ostracised -because of him." - -"I don't quite see, under the circumstances, how you can separate them," -pursued the obstinate Hugh. "I should like to turn off, just for a -moment to the sister, and consider her." - -"Go ahead," said Mr. Pomfret in a somewhat sullen tone. He was keeping -his impulsive and fiery nature under control, out of his great respect -for his friend. But it was very doubtful if he would stand much -criticism even from one so respected. - -"I have not a word to say against her appearance or her manners. I will -go further, and say there is not a girl in Blankfield, or for the matter -of that in the 'county' itself, who gives the impression of a thorough -gentlewoman more convincingly than she does." Pomfret's face brightened -at these words. "Oh, then you admit that, and you have knocked about the -world a few years longer than I have. I am of the same opinion, but if -you say it, it must be so." - -"I do say it unhesitatingly, but mind you, I am only judging from -outside appearances. Now, how comes it that such a refined and ladylike -girl as that should have such a bounder of a brother? There is a mystery -there." - -Jack Pomfret prepared to argue. "I don't quite agree that he is a -bounder, he is not quite boisterous enough for that. Let us agree on a -common definition--namely, that he is bad form. That fits him, I think." - -"And the sister is very good form. You can't deny that there is a -mystery." - -But the young subaltern developed a quite surprising ingenuity in -argument. - -"She just simply calls him her brother," sharply, "but she has told you -he is her halfbrother by a first marriage--father a gentleman, mother a -common person, hence the bad form. A second time, the father married a -woman of his own class, hence Norah Burton. Norah knows him for a good -sort, if a bit rough, and sticks to him. That's a reasonable theory, -anyway." - -"More ingenious than reasonable perhaps," commented Murchison with an -amused smile. - -Pomfret went on, warming to his subject. "And, hang it all, if we speak -of bounders--and mind you, I won't admit he is a bounder in the strict -sense of the term--is there a family in England without them?" - -"Quite the same sort, do you think?" was Hugh's question. - -"Look here, I'm not going to be impertinent, and ask if you can point to -any amongst your own connections, but I know something of my own family. -I've got a cousin, good blood on both sides. He's been a bounder from -the time he learned to talk, sets your teeth on edge; as some fellow -said, every time he opens his mouth he puts his foot into it. By Gad, -this fellow Burton is a polished gentleman to him. If George showed his -nose in this regiment they would send him to Coventry in five minutes." - -"As they did that chap last year," remarked Hugh, alluding to an -offensive young man who had been compelled to send in his papers, owing -to the fact that his general demeanour had not come up to the somewhat -exalted standard of the gallant Twenty-fifth. - -"Precisely," assented Pomfret. "But you were going to give me some views -about the girl. Again I say, fire away." - -"Well, to go back to that meeting in the tea-shop. It was, to say the -least, a little unconventional for a young girl to invite an utter -stranger to call upon her." - -"You were not an utter stranger," retorted Jack doggedly. "She had -heard who you were, perhaps from the tradespeople. She knew you were a -gentleman, she knew your name, Captain Murchison. Hang it all, if you -had met her in one of these dull Blankfield houses, and she had been -introduced by a hostess about whom you both knew precious little, and -asked you to call, being the mistress of her brother's house, you would -have thought it quite the correct and proper thing. So would every man -in the barracks. Don't people strike up acquaintances in hotels, and -sometimes trains?" - -"They generally find out something about each other before they pursue -the acquaintance," suggested Murchison. "Look here, old man, you know as -well as I do, you are arguing all round the point. It would be precious -easy for the Burtons to say who and what they were, and furnish some -proper credentials. If they did that, I daresay all Blankfield would -call upon them, and swallow the brother for the sake of the very -charming sister." - -"Well, I'll pump her to-night, and get out all you want to know," -retorted Mr. Pomfret confidently. "I don't go so far as to say they will -be able to refer us to Burke or Debrett. Decent middle-class people, I -expect." - -It was useless to argue with such an optimist. "You've accounted for the -brother, I remember, by your ingenious theory. Well, you've made up your -mind to go then?" - -"Most certainly I have. You do as you like, but while we are on the -subject of good form, it is not a pretty thing to accept an invitation, -and then excuse yourself at the eleventh hour by an obvious lie." - -"Under ordinary circumstances, you would be quite right. It has not -occurred to you that we were rather rushed into this dinner, then--that -we were, so to speak, jumped at?" - -"It might look like it at first blush," admitted Mr. Pomfret -reluctantly. "But here are two poor devils, marooned, as it were, in -this snobbish town, and they naturally jump at the first people who show -them the slightest civility. They must simply be aching to exchange a -word with their fellow-creatures. Well, I am going to exchange several -with them, I promise you." - -Hugh felt it was useless. When Pomfret got in these moods, it was waste -of time to reason with him. He felt uneasy, however. He had promised his -family to look after him, and he felt a certain responsibility. It was -to be hoped the sudden infatuation for a pretty face would expire as -quickly as it had been born. - -Perhaps a closer association with the bounder brother would produce a -chastening influence. But then Jack seemed bounder-proof. Had he not -alluded to a well-born cousin, beside whom Burton shone as a polished -gentleman? - -Anyway, he must not desert his young and very impulsive friend. But it -was with considerable reluctance that he accompanied him to Rosemount on -the Monday night. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -|Eight o'clock was the hour appointed for dinner, this fact scoring -in the Burtons' favour, as evincing a knowledge of the habits of good -society. Even a few of the most select hostesses in Blankville, who -ought to have known better, made a base compromise with half-past seven. - -The two men arrived about five minutes before the time. The young -hostess was awaiting them in the drawing-room, attired in some filmy -creation that made her look very charming and ethereal. Soft lights from -shaded lamps played about her, and lent a touch of perfection to the -picture. - -Mr. Burton was attired in the usual conventional evening dress of the -English gentleman. One would have guessed him the sort of man who would -wear a ready-made tie. Not at all. He had tied the bow himself, and with -a masterly hand. Pomfret even, who was admitted to be the Beau Brummel of -his regiment, could not have done it better. - -It is generally supposed that a common man looks more common still when -he dons evening attire. "George" was an exception to the rule. His black -clothes became him, and lent him a certain air of dignity, which was -wanting when he assumed everyday garments. Even Murchison, prejudiced -as he was against him, was forced to admit to himself that the "bounder" -for once looked quite respectable. Pomfret, ever leaning to the -charitable side, felt quite enthusiastic over him, and contrasted him -favourably with his own cousin, who could boast blue blood on both -sides. - -Norah Burton played the hostess as to the manner born, greeting the -visitors with just the right degree of cordiality, quite free from the -effusiveness of most of the Blankfield hostesses. And Burton, taking his -cue from her, was hearty without boisterousness. - -The young subaltern's heart warmed to her, she was so gracious, -so sweet, and about her there hovered such an air of calm dignity. -Rosemount, no doubt, was honoured by the introduction of such -distinguished visitors, viewed merely from the social point of view, -but she did not permit a suspicion of this to escape her. Rather, -judging by her demeanour, the visitors were honoured by being admitted -to Rosemount. - -"Rather reminds me of a young queen entertaining her subjects," Pomfret -remarked afterwards to his friend in a rather enthusiastic outburst. -"I'm not speaking of the 'county' of course, but these Blankfield women -make you feel they are overwhelmed with your condescension in coming -to their houses, that they are hardly fit to sit at the same table with -you." - -The dinner was plain, but well cooked. The appointments were perfect, -snowy napery, elegant glass and cutlery. One neat-handed maidservant -waited, and waited well. Mr. Burton carved the dishes that were -carvable, there was no pretence at an _a la Russe_ banquet. Their small -establishment could not cope with that, and they did not attempt it. -There was a generous supply of wines: hock, burgundy and champagne. - -And Mr. Burton, strangely subdued, was quite a good host, hospitable but -not pressing. Murchison thought he must have been having some lessons -from his sister, who seemed intuitively to do the right thing Still -suspicious, he was sure that she had been steadily coaching him how to -comport himself on this important night. - -For, after all, it must be a feather in their caps, that after having -been coldly cast aside by the _elite_ of Blankfield, they had captured -for their dining acquaintance two of the most popular officers of the -exclusive Twenty-fifth. - -And Murchison, ever on the watch for any little sign or symptom to -confirm his suspicions, had to admit the pair were behaving perfectly. -Not the slightest sign of elation at the small social triumph manifested -itself in the demeanour of either. Dinner-parties like this might be a -common occurrence for all they showed to the contrary. - -The substantial portion of the meal was over. Dessert was brought in, -with port, claret and sherry, all of the most excellent vintage. The -house was a small one, and not over-staffed, but there was no evidence -of lack of means. Perhaps the Burtons were wise people in not keeping -up a great show, but spending the greater part of their income on their -personal enjoyments. - -While the men were still lingering over their dessert, Miss Burton rose. - -"There are no ladies to support me, so I shall feel quite lonely by -myself," she said in her pretty, softly modulated voice. "Shall we have -coffee in the drawing-room? You men can smoke. It is quite Liberty Hall -here. My brother smokes in every room of the house." - -Murchison noted the subtle difference between the brother and sister. -If Burton had given the invitation, he would certainly have said, "you -gentlemen." The beautiful Norah would not make a mistake like that. - -Five minutes afterwards, the three men trooped into the pretty -drawing-room with its subdued, shaded lights. Norah was sitting at a -small table, on which were set the coffee equipage with an assortment -of liqueurs. Decidedly, the Burtons knew how to do things when they -received guests. - -The "bounder" brother, as Hugh always called him to himself, had drunk -very heavily at dinner of every wine: hock, burgundy and champagne. But -evidently he could carry a big quantity. It would take more than a -small dinner-party like this to knock him over. When he entered the -drawing-room his mien was as subdued as when he had first received his -visitors. - -They drank their coffee round the fair-sized octagonal table, and then -they broke up. Miss Burton retired to a Chesterfield, whither Pom-fret -followed her, as he was bound to do. - -Burton bustled out of the room, and returned with a huge box of -expensive cigars. He offered the box to Hugh, who took one with a -deprecating look at the young hostess. - -"We dare not, Miss Burton. Think of your curtains in the morning." - -"Don't trouble, Captain Murchison," she said, with her charming smile. -"The curtains have to take what comes in this house. George doesn't -often sit in this room, but when he does he always smokes cigars. I told -you this was Liberty Hall, you know." - -The box was offered to Pomfret, who took one. "Do you smoke, Miss -Burton?" he asked. - -"Once in a blue moon. I think I will have one to-night, as a little -treat. It is terribly tempting, when I see all you men smoking." The -enamoured Pomfret fetched her a cigarette, hovered over her with a -match, till it was properly lighted, and settled himself again on the -Chesterfield. If that silly old Hugh didn't butt in, he was going to -have a nice little chat with this charming girl, who had played the -young hostess to such perfection. - -But Hugh was safely out of the way. Burton had piloted him to a -comfortable easy-chair at the extreme end of the drawing-room, and -these two antipathetic persons were apparently engaged in an interesting -conversation. Anyway, Murchison's laugh rang out frequently. - -Pomfret, it must be confessed, was not very great at conversation. If -the ball were opened, he could set it rolling, but he lacked initiative. -He looked at Miss Burton with admiring eyes, but although he had got her -comfortably to himself on that convenient Chesterfield, he could think -of nothing to say to her. - -And then a brilliant inspiration came to him. "I say, how gracefully you -smoke." The young woman burst into a pleasant peal of quite spontaneous -laughter. She always had a ready smile at command, but her laughter was -generally a little forced. This time it was perfectly genuine. - -"Oh, you are really comical," she cried. "How can any girl smoke a -cigarette gracefully? In the first place, it is a most unfeminine thing -to do. All people must smoke them in the same way, and there can never -be anything graceful in the act." - -"Women don't smoke them the same way," replied the young subaltern, with -the air of a man who has observed and learned. "Most of them chew them, -and hold them at arm's length, as if they were afraid of being bitten." - -"It's because they don't like smoking, really, and only do it to be in -the fashion. Now, when I am quite in the mood, I actually revel in a -cigarette. I am in the mood to-night." - -Pomfret leaned forward, with a tender expression on his rather homely, -but good-humoured, countenance. - -"That means that you feel happy to-night, eh?" - -She nodded brightly. "Oh, ever so happy! It is seeing new faces, you -know, after weeks of isolation," she added with a touch of almost -girlish gaiety. "It seems such ages since we gave a dinner-party. And -you and Captain Murchison are so nice. It seems almost like a family -gathering." - -"You like my friend Murchison, then? I am glad, because it is to him I -owe the pleasure of your acquaintance." - -"I think he is a dear, he seems so honest, straightforward, and so -reliable." She spoke with apparent conviction. "Were you not dreadfully -shocked when he told you, for of course he must have told you, how we -got to know each other?" - -"Not in the least," said Mr. Pomfret stoutly. "I explained to him that -people can become acquainted, without being properly introduced in the -conventional sort of way." - -"Ah, then, he had some doubts himself?" flashed Miss Burton. "I expect -he was a little shocked, if you were not." - -"Not in the slightest, I assure you," replied Mr. Pomfret easily. He was -not above telling a white lie upon occasions. He remembered too well -the remarks that his friend had made upon the girl's unconventional -behaviour, but he was not going to admit anything. - -Miss Burton spoke softly, after a brief pause. "You and Captain -Murchison are very great friends, are you not?" - -"Awful pals," was the genuine response. "You see, he knows all my -family. And when I joined the regiment, they deputed him to look after -me. He has got a hard task," he added with a laugh. - -"Oh, not so very hard really, I am sure of that." Norah's voice was very -sweet, very caressing. "But you and your friend are of very different -temperaments." - -"In what way?" - -She smiled. "Oh, in half a hundred ways. Captain Murchison is as true as -steel, but also as hard as steel. You, now, are not in the least hard. -You are very kind and compassionate, you think the best of everybody." - -"Don't flatter me too much, please," interjected the bashful Pomfret. - -"Oh, pardon me, I know just the kind of man you are." The sweet face -was very close to his own, the beautiful, rather sad eyes were looking -steadily into his. "You are a rich man, or you would not be in this -expensive regiment. But, if you were a poor man, and you had only ten -pounds in your pocket, you would lend an impecunious friend five of -them, and not trouble whether he repaid you or not." - -"I think you have fitted me, Miss Burton. My dear old chum Hugh is never -tired of telling me I am an awful ass." - -"You are both right, really," answered Miss Burton. - -"You see, we look at life from two different standpoints." - -"I fancy you come from two different classes?" queried the charming -young woman. - -Pomfret felt a little embarrassed. He did not want to give away his -particular chum. But there were no doubt certain inherited commercial -instincts in Hugh that sometimes offended the descendant of a more -careless and aristocratic family. - -"You see, Hugh has come from the trading class, originally. His -ancestors, no doubt, were close-fisted people. Hugh is not close-fisted -himself: he is, in a certain way, the soul of generosity, but sometimes -the old Adam peeps out in little things." - -He had a swift pang of remorse when he had said this. For he suddenly -remembered Hugh's generous offer of the two hundred which Pomfret, by -a very diplomatic letter, was going to cajole out of the octogenarian -great-aunt. - -"Believe me," added he fervently, "Hugh is one of the best. He is a -little peculiar sometimes in small things. I ought not to have spoken as -I have done. I am more than sorry if I have conveyed a wrong impression -of him." - -"But you have not," cried Norah Burton swiftly. "He would be hard in -some things: I am sure--for instance--he would never forgive a really -dishonourable action, even in the case of his best friend." - -"No, I am sure he would not," assented Pomfret. "But I don't fancy he -has been much tried that way. We don't get many 'rotters' amongst our -lot." - -"_Noblesse oblige_," quoted Miss Burton, lightly. Then she added more -seriously: "And I am sure he is very kind-hearted and thoughtful. I -was impressed with his reluctance to smoke because of the curtains. Of -course, he did not remember that it did not matter in the least, as we -never have callers." - -She was getting on the theme of their social isolation, but Pomfret was -sure that, unlike her brother, strangely subdued to-night from his usual -boisterousness, she would handle the subject with her customary tact and -good taste. - -"Ah, of course, all that is very regrettable. It is not so much your -loss, as the loss of Blankfield. I suppose you won't stay very long -here." - -For a moment there came a blazing light in the soft, beautiful eyes. -"A few days ago, I advised my brother to pack up and clear out. The -snobbish plutocracy of Blankfield had beaten us, made up of retired -shopkeepers and merchants. To-night, with you and Captain Murchison as -our guests, I think we have beaten Blankfield with its fat mothers and -plain daughters." - -She looked superb, as she drew her slender form up to its full height, -the glow of indignant triumph blazing on her cheek. At the moment she -was extremely beautiful. If Pomfret had been attracted before, he was -infatuated now. - -"I will help you to beat the Blankfield people, for whom I don't care a -row of pins. I will come, whenever you want me." - -"And your friend Captain Murchison, will he come, too?" - -Pomfret smiled whimsically. "Oh yes, he will come, if I make a point -of it. Old Hugh thinks he leads me, but I really lead him." She leaned -forward eagerly. "Can you bring some of your brother officers, Mr. -Pomfret? Please don't think I am bold and forward and presumptuous. But -I do long to be even with these Blankfield people. I would love to make -a little sort of _salon_ of my own. I know it is useless to expect the -women at present, but they might come in time. Mind you, I don't want -them." - -"I will try," said Pomfret slowly. "I think I may say that Hugh and I -are the two most popular men in the regiment; I say it without vanity. -And I don't suppose we care a snap of the fingers about the Blankfield -people. Still, I don't want to raise hopes that may never be fulfilled. -I can only say, I will try." There was a pause. Then she spoke, and -there was a far-away look in her eyes. "You hesitate, I see. Oh, I quite -believe you when you say you will try. But there is some stumbling-block -in the way, isn't there?" Pomfret had perforce to dissemble. "There is -no stumbling-block that I know of, except running the risk of offending -Blankfield. That is not a great one, as we shall be out of here in about -two months." - -She leaned closer to him, and her voice sank to a whisper. "There is a -stumbling-block, I know. You are too kind and generous to state what it -is, you could not, as to-night he is your host. It is my brother." - -And then poor, infatuated Pomfret sought no further refuge in -subterfuge. He blurted out the truth. "Some of our chaps wouldn't stand -him, you know," he said simply. - -There was a little convulsive movement of the delicate hands. "And he -is such a dear good fellow at heart, wanting I know in the little -delicacies that mark a real gentleman. You see a great difference -between us, don't you?" - -"A very distinct difference," assented Pomfret. - -"I will explain it to you in a few words. My father was a harum-scarum -sort of person, as I told you last time you were here, hard-riding and -hard-drinking. When he was a boy of twenty-five he married a woman out -of his own class, a shop-girl or a barmaid, I am not quite sure which. -George is many years older than myself, as I told you he is really my -halfbrother. The first wife died, my father married again, this time -a lady. I am the daughter of the second marriage. Now, I think you -understand." - -Pomfret was delighted at this avowal, it proved his own prescience. - -"I am so glad you told me, but as it happens, it was just what I -guessed." - -Miss Burton looked at him with admiring eyes. "You are really very -clever, you know. Well, I will not exactly say this is a secret, but you -will whisper it about discreetly. You need not be quite so frank as I -have been about details, but you can hint at a _mesalliance_. I hate to -have to tell you so much, for my brother has been so good to me." - -"Ah!" Mr. Pomfret's air plainly showed that he was eager for further -information. - -And Miss Burton was quite willing to gratify him. The young man was a -pleasant, comfortable sort of person to talk to. He was an admirable -listener, and never broke in with unnecessary, or irritating -interruptions. - -"When my father died he left little behind him but debts; my mother had -preceded him some ten years. Poor George had gone into a stockbroker's -office, through the good offices of a distant connection. His salary was -very small, but he made a home for me. He would not hear of my earning -my own living." - -"That could not have been very long ago," remarked Pomfret, "because you -are not very old now." - -"No, it was not long," answered the girl, not committing herself to any -definite dates. "Well, we had a very hard time, as you can imagine. Then -suddenly our luck changed. An uncle of George's on his mother's side had -gone out to Australia as a boy, and amassed, we won't say a fortune from -your point of view, but what we should look upon as wealth. He had never -married, and when he died, a will was found in which he left all he was -possessed of to his sister's children. George was the only child, so he -took it all." - -"So he threw up business and went in for a country life." - -"Well, he has thrown it up for a time. I am not quite certain he will -not get tired of inactivity, and go back to it. Now that he has capital, -it would be easy for him to embark in something that would keep him -occupied, and pay him well." - -"Not a sportsman, I suppose, he doesn't care for hunting or shooting? -The country is slow for a man if he doesn't do something in that line." - -The pretty girl smiled; there was a faint touch of humour in the smile. -"Oh, he's not rich enough to indulge in luxuries of that sort. Besides," -she added hastily, "he has such wretched sight, he would be no good at -sport." - -Pomfret thought it had been a very pleasant, enlightening conversation. -Norah seemed to have been perfectly frank about their past and their -present position. She did not pretend to be anything but what she was, -the daughter of a spendthrift father, living on what was practically the -charity of a good-hearted brother. And that brother was indebted for his -good fortune to a relative who must have been a man of the people. - -While the two young people were having this confidential chat, Mr. -Burton was making himself agreeable to the other guest, in his doubtless -well-meant, but somewhat undiplomatic, fashion. - -"I do envy you young fellows when I see you walking about as if the -world belonged to you." - -Hugh drew himself up stiffly. "I was not in the least aware that any one -of us conveyed that impression." - -"No offence meant, I assure you." Hugh's tone showed him that he had -been guilty of bad taste: a blessing Norah had not heard--she would have -given him a bad quarter of an hour later on. "But all army men, I think, -get a certain kind of swagger. Oh, nothing overbearing or unpleasant -about it, of course. They are made so much of that there is no wonder -if they do fancy themselves a bit. I'm sure I should if I were one of -them." - -Murchison made no comment on this frank statement, and the other man -rambled on in desultory fashion. - -"It's the life I wanted. As a boy I longed to grow up quickly and go -into the army. There was a fair chance of it then, when the old man had -still got a bit of money left. But by the time I was old enough the idea -had to be knocked on the head. I had to go into a dingy stockbroking -office instead." - -Hugh pricked up his ears at the announcement. He had not suspected that -the man would be so communicative about his past. Of course he had gone -as a clerk. If his father was not well-off enough to put him in the army -neither could he have afforded to buy him a share in a business. - -"Yes," pursued Mr. Burton, "it was an awful come down after the dreams I -had indulged in." - -"It must have been a very bitter disappointment," assented Hugh -politely, in spite of his firm conviction that the army was the very -last profession in the world suited to a man of his host's obvious -peculiarities. - -"I should have been awfully keen on soldiering," pursued Mr. Burton, -under the impression that he had discovered a sympathetic listener. -"Don't you consider it a splendid life?" - -"There are many things in its favour, certainly," was the rather frigid -reply. - -"But, after all, I don't think I should have cared to be in the line; -there's not the same glamour about it, is there? You fellows in the -cavalry, in a crack regiment like yours, must see the rosy side of -life." He heaved a sigh. "And, of course, you've all got pots of money -to grease the wheels." - -Hugh fidgeted perceptibly. How very vulgar the man was, with an innate -vulgarity that nothing would ever eradicate. But his host, absorbed in -his own reflections, did not observe the movement. - -"Of course, we know all about you, about the great house of Murchison, -you are tiled-in all right." He lowered his voice to a confidential -whisper: "What about that young chap yonder? I suppose he's rolling in -money, too?" - -It was growing insufferable. For two pins Hugh would have got up and -bidden him goodnight then and there, but he shrank from making a scene. -what a fool he had been to come here, to allow his kindly feeling for -that susceptible young donkey of a Pomfret to expose him to such an -ordeal as this. - -"Really, Mr. Burton," he said in a cutting voice, "I do not discuss the -private affairs of my friends on such a brief acquaintance. If you -are really anxious to know, I believe Mr. Pomfret has considerable -expectations from an old aunt who is fairly wealthy. Those expectations -depend, I understand, upon his conforming generally to her wishes in all -respects." - -"Ah, I understand," said the unabashed Burton. "Sorry if my question -gave you offence. What really put it in my head was the difference -between his position and mine when I was his age." - -There was silence for some little time, while the two men applied -themselves steadily to their cigars. Then Burton jumped up suddenly. - -"This must be a bit slow for you and your friend, and the night is -young. What do you say to a game at bridge?" - -Yes, Captain Murchison would welcome a game of bridge, anything as a -relief to this vulgarian's conversation. - -They played for over two hours, Murchison keenly alert from certain -suspicions that had been forming in his mind. At present there was no -foundation for these vague suspicions. They played for small stakes, -but the visitors rose up the winners, not by a great amount, but still -winners. - -It was a fine night, the two men walked back to their quarters. - -"How did you get on with the charmer? I saw you seemed very confidential -together," asked the older man. - -"Splendidly, old chap. She told me a lot about her history." Pomfret -related all he had been told in full. "And how did you get on with the -brother?" - -"Don't ask me," replied Hugh with a groan. "He's the most insufferable -creature I ever came across. I don't really think I can go there again. -At the beginning of the evening he started fairly well, but later he -reverted to type." - -"Well, I may as well tell you straight, I shall. The next time we go -I'll take a share of the brother." - -When Pomfret spoke in that tone he meant what he said, and Hugh knew he -would have his own wilful way. - -There was one piece of information which the young subaltern had not -imparted to his friend. - -It was this--that after much pressing, and more than one refusal, Miss -Burton had agreed to meet him to-morrow afternoon at a very sequestered -spot about a mile and a half from Blankfield, with the view of pursuing -their acquaintance. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -|From the night of that dinner-party Murchison noted a subtle difference -in his young friend's demeanour. Pomfret had always been a harum-scarum -sort of young fellow, accustomed to follow erratic and injudicious -impulses, not absolutely devoid of brains of a certain order, but of -imperfect and ill-balanced mentality. - -But in his wildest escapades he had always been frank and above-board. -And he was ever the first, when he had overstepped the border-line, -to admit that he was in the wrong. And on such occasions, far from -justifying his exploits, he had been ready to deplore them. - -But his frankness seemed to have departed from that night. He seemed -rather to avoid than seek the society of his old friend and mentor. When -Hugh brought up the subject of the Burtons, Pomfret seemed anxious to -avoid it, to say as little as possible. He seemed to shut himself up -within his own soul. - -Hugh, of course, was profoundly uneasy. Such a transparent creature as -Pomfret would not be likely to retire within his own shell unless there -were cogent reasons for the withdrawal. And the reasons were inspired -by the attractive personality of the fascinating siren at Rosemount, -the charming young woman who explained the presence of an undesirable -brother by the narrative of her father's first unfortunate marriage. - -Pomfret had invited the brother and sister to a dinner at the principal -hotel in the place, and Hugh had been his friend's guest. Ladies, of -course, could not be asked to the Mess. It had been a happy solution -of a somewhat awkward position. Mr. Burton no doubt understood, but he -accepted the situation with alacrity. - -From the dinner they had adjourned to Rosemount. Here they had played -cards as before, but they left off fairly even. Hugh's suspicions about -card-sharping were dissipated as before. At the same time, he was still -resolved to keep a watchful eye upon the pair. It was firmly engrained -upon his mind, and only, of course, from the purest instinct, that he -did not trust either of them. - -Much to his surprise, they left without having been asked to a return -dinner. It was the turn of the Burtons. And judging from the haste with -which Burton had jumped at them on the first visit, the omission was a -little noticeable. It could not be that these new isolated dwellers in -Blankfield wanted to shelve an acquaintance which must have brightened -their dull and unvisited existence. - -Another fact presented itself to Murchison's rather acute intelligence. -There seemed already established between Pomfret and the attractive -Norah a certain kind of freemasonry, a certain sort of easy relations. -And once in the course of the evening he was sure that he heard the -young man, in the course of a whispered conversation, address her by her -Christian name. They had been sitting together on the Chesterfield, and -their remarks to each other had been addressed in a very low tone. But -Hugh's hearing was wonderfully acute, and he had surprised a sudden -expression of rebuke in Miss Burton's eyes when Pomfret made the slip. - -And here, for a moment, this story must leave Hugh Murchison with his -honest doubts and suspicions, while it follows the fortunes of his young -friend and the attractive Norah Burton. - -For, truth to tell, at this particular juncture, young Pomfret, for -all his apparent guilelessness, was pursuing a double game. Madly, -overwhelmingly, in love with Norah, he was meeting her clandestinely, -sometimes at her own house, sometimes in sequestered spots in the -surrounding neighbourhood. And of these visits and meetings Hugh knew -nothing. - -Pomfret was not free from a few pangs of self-reproach, from the fact -that he was not running quite straight with good old Hugh, to whom he -had always, hitherto, confessed all his difficulties and troubles. - -But then Hugh, although one of the best, was such a practical old stick. -And if he told him the whole truth, there was no knowing what course -Hugh might not think it was his duty to take. He might write to his -family and bring them down in an avalanche on him, or even to the -octogenarian aunt. - -Love taught him deep cunning, and what he lacked in this subtle quality -was ably supplemented by Miss Burton, this young girl with the -rather sad expression, and the candid eyes that always met your gaze -unfalteringly. - -From the first clandestine meeting, arranged in whispers on the night of -the dinner at Rose-mount, Pomfret had made the running very fast. He had -given Norah to understand that he thought her the most desirable girl he -had ever met, that no other woman had appealed, would or could appeal, -to him as she did. There was a good drop of Irish blood in his own -veins, and he certainly made a most fervent lover. - -Norah listened with a modest bashfulness that enchanted him. He was -sure from her demeanour that she had never been made love to before. She -seemed so overwhelmed that she could hardly say a word. If one were not -so much in love, one might almost have thought she was stupid. - -She was not so stupid, however, as not to preserve her wits sufficiently -to make another appointment, this time at Rosemount. Pomfret consented -gladly, but he made a certain stipulation, which his companion was more -than pleased to agree to. - -"We mustn't let old Hugh know about this, though, or he'll think he's -left out in the cold. You see, it was really through him I knew you. You -must tell your brother not to let it out." - -Miss Burton promised that, so far as she and her brother were concerned, -Captain Murchison would be none the wiser. It only remained for Mr. -Pomfret--although entreated to do so, she could not at this early stage -address him as "Jack"--to surround his movements with a proper degree of -mystery. - -When the two parted, and the meeting had been rather a brief one, for -it was always a little dangerous lingering long about the environs -of Blankfield, in case of unexpected intruders, Miss Burton made a -significant remark. - -"I am quite sure your friend Captain Murchison does not like me. In -fact, I think his real feeling is one of dislike." - -Mr. Pomfret was young enough to blush; he did so upon this occasion. He -guessed the real truth, that Murchison did not dislike her at all, on -the contrary, he rather admired her--but he had a certain distrust of -her. - -"Fancy on your part, fancy, I'm quite sure," he answered glibly. "I -expect he is a little bit sore, you know, about the whole thing, thinks -I have cut him out with you." - -"Perhaps," assented Norah, easily. But in her own heart she knew it was -nothing of the kind. She recognised at once the difference between the -two men. Murchison was a thorough gentleman, kind and chivalrous, but -he was a man of the world, with a certain hard strain in him, a man who -would submit everything to the test of cold, practical reasoning, not to -be hoodwinked or led astray. - -This poor babbling boy, with his unrestrained impulses, that Celtic -leaven in his blood, would fall an easy prey to any woman who was clever -enough to cast her spells over him. He would never reason, he would only -feel. - -After that first meeting, the precursor of many others, the affair -progressed briskly. Pomfret made love with great ardour, Norah received -his advances with a shy sort of acquiescence that inflamed him the -more. He was sure, oh very sure, he was the first who had touched that -innocent heart. - -From these delightful confidences Murchison was shut out. It would not -be wise to ignore him altogether, for such a course of action would have -intensified his suspicions. But the invitations to Rosemount from either -host or hostess were few and far between. - -He was not, however, so easily gulled as the three conspirators thought. -Pomfret's preoccupied mood, the air of a man who had much on his mind, -his frequent and unexplained absences, gave to his friend much food for -thought. He felt certain that the easy-going, irresponsible young -man was entangling himself. But in such a state of affairs he felt -powerless. Short of invoking the influence of the Colonel, or writing to -the elderly aunt, he could do nothing. - -It cannot be said that the course of true love was running very -smoothly, even from the point of view of the ardent and enamoured suitor -himself. In spite of his impulsive temperament, his disinclination to -look hard facts squarely in the face, there was in him a slight leaven -of common-sense. - -Save for the bounty and goodwill of this generous, if somewhat -narrow-minded, aunt he was an absolute pauper. There was no hope of -marrying without her consent. And he was quite sure that in a case like -this her consent would never be given. A _fiancee_, to be received by -her with approval, must present some sort of credentials. - -And there was the difficulty. Poor Jack had exhausted all his -simple cunning to extract from them some convincing details of their -antecedents. But even he, infatuated as he was, had to admit that -they had parried inquiries with great adroitness. They maintained a -persistent reticence as to names and places. Even he was forced to -conclude that, for some reason or another, they did not choose to be -frank about their past. - -These obvious facts, however, did not lessen his infatuation. To marry -her was the one dominating object of his life, in spite of all that his -few remaining remnants of common-sense could urge against such a step. - -More than once the rash idea occurred to him that he would marry her in -secret, and when the marriage was an accomplished fact, throw himself -upon his aunt's forgiveness. - -He mooted the idea to Norah, to whom, of course, he had already made a -frank statement of his position, as befitted the honourable gentleman -he was. But she did not receive the suggestion with enthusiasm, although -she professed to fully reciprocate his ardent affection. - -"If I were a selfish girl, and only thought of my immediate happiness, I -should say 'Yes,'" she said with a little tremulous smile, that made -her look more desirable than ever in her lover's eyes. "But I could not -allow _you_ to run such a terrible risk. Old people are very strange and -very touchy when they think they have been slighted. Suppose she cast -you off." - -"I suppose I could work, as thousands have to do," replied Jack, with a -touch of his old doggedness. - -She shook her head. "My poor Jack! It is easy to talk of working, but -you have got to find an employer. And you have been brought up to an -idle life. What could you turn your hand to?" She paused a moment, and -then added as an after-thought: "And besides, my brother would never -sanction it." - -Even to Pomfret's slow revolving mind, the worldly taint in her just -peeped forth in those sensible remarks. - -"If I am prepared to risk my aunt's displeasure, you can surely afford -to risk your brother's?" he queried angrily. - -But Norah disarmed him with one of her sweetest smiles. - -"Be reasonable, dearest; we must not behave like a pair of silly -children. And besides, there is a certain moral obligation on both -sides. You owe everything to your aunt. I owe everything to my brother. -It would be very base to ignore them." - -Jack was touched by the nobility of these last sentiments. "You are much -better than I am, Norah, much less selfish." - -She caressed his curly head with her hand. "We must have patience, Jack. -You have told me as plainly as your dear, kind heart would allow you to -tell me that, for reasons which I don't want you to explain, your aunt -would never give her consent to your marriage with me. Well, we must -wait." - -In plain English her meaning was that they must possess their souls in -patience till such time as this excellent old lady had departed this -life. The suggestion was certainly a coldblooded one, but in his present -infatuated mood Jack did not take any notice of that. Norah made a -feeble attempt to gloss over the callousness of her remarks by adding -that, although it was a very horrible thing to have to wait for the -shoes of dead people, a person of Miss Harding's great age must expect -to very shortly pay the debt of nature. - -Two days later, Jack received a telegram which seemed to give a certain -air of prophecy to the young woman's forebodings. It was dispatched -to him from his aunt's home in Cheshire by the local doctor, who had -attended her for years. It informed him that she was seriously ill and -requested his immediate attendance. - -He sought the Colonel at once and obtained leave. There was no time -to call at Rose-mount, but he scribbled a hasty note to Miss Burton -explaining matters. On his arrival, he found his aged relative very bad -indeed. - -She had had a severe stroke, the second in two years, and Doctor -Jephson was very doubtful as to whether her vitality would enable her to -recover. He added that she had a marvellous constitution, and in such a -case one could not absolutely say there was no hope. Of a feebler woman -he would have said at once a few hours would see the end. - -Pomfret stayed there as long as the result was in doubt. At the end of -three days the brave old lady rallied in the most wonderful way, and was -able to hold a little conversation with her beloved nephew. He did not -leave till the doctor assured him that she was out of danger. - -"It's a wonderful recovery," said Doctor Jephson as he shook hands at -parting with the young man. "But it's the beginning of the end. I don't -give her very long now, a few months at the most. Well, she has had a -wonderful life, hardly an ache or a pain till the last few years, and -then nothing very severe. But, of course, the machinery is worn out." - -All the way back to Blankfield those words kept repeating themselves in -his ears: "I don't give her very long now, a few months at the most." - -And then an idea began to form in his mind. He was not so callous that -he wanted his poor old aunt to die quickly, but it was obvious the time -could not be long delayed when he would find himself possessed of her -fortune, the master of his own destinies. Was there any reason why he -should not forestall that period by the rather daring expedient of a -secret marriage? They were both young. Even if the doctor was wrong, -and they had to wait four or five years, it was not a great sacrifice -of their youth. At least that was his way of looking at it. Of course he -did not know how she would take the suggestion. - -She appeared to listen to him with deep interest and attention when he -unfolded his plans. - -He explained that he had a very handsome allowance, which up to the -present he had generally exceeded. Now that could all be altered. He -would declare that he was sick of the army, and send in his papers. -Through his family influence, he would get some Government appointment -which necessitated his living in London. He would take inexpensive -chambers for himself, rent a small house for her in some pleasant and -not too remote suburb, and spend as much of his time as possible with -her. - -"You don't think your aunt would reduce your allowance if you left -the army?" was the one pertinent question she put to him when he had -finished. - -"On the contrary, she would be more likely to increase it," was the -confident rejoinder. "She would always have preferred that I should go -in for something that meant real work. She thinks the army is an idle -life." - -Miss Burton, no doubt, rapidly calculated the pros and cons of such a -daring step. Jack had named a very handsome sum for her maintenance. -If she could put up with the clandestine nature of the connection, till -such time as a certain event happened, she would be better off than at -Rosemount. She begged for time to think it over, and of course she would -have to consult her brother before taking such an unusual step. - -That was only natural; it was impossible for Jack to insist that she -should settle the matter herself without reference to the one person -who, whatever his social defects, had behaved to her with unexampled -kindness and generosity. - -Brother and sister no doubt talked it over very thoroughly, for it was -three days before she told her lover that, although George would have -preferred a longer period of waiting, he trusted him sufficiently to -entrust Norah to his keeping, on the terms proposed. - -She did suggest that they should wait till Jack had left the army and -settled himself in London. But he fought this idea stubbornly. He -was mad to tie her to himself, for fear that somebody else with -more immediate prospects might step in and carry her off. A little -common-sense, of course, might have told him that if she was as fatally -attractive to others as to himself, she would have been carried off -before this. - -He was so terribly jealous of her, that he had never made the slightest -effort to bring any of his brother officers round to Rose-mount. He even -kept Hugh away as much as he could. - -The lovers worked out their little plot very nicely. Miss Burton would -leave Blankfield for a couple of weeks, ostensibly to pay a visit to a -relative. Her destination would be London. Jack would take a few days' -leave of absence in due course, and procure a special licence. They -would return on separate days and resume their normal life, until such -time as they perfected their after arrangements. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -|Miss Burton arrived home on a Monday by a mid-day train; her attentive -brother met her at the station. She was one of those girls who look -smart and neat under the most trying circumstances. Although it was a -long journey, she bore no signs or stains of travel. - -"When does Jack arrive, not too soon, I hope?" commented George, as he -assisted her into a cab, and sat down beside her. - -"He wanted to come down to-night, but I vetoed that," responded the -girl. "I told him people might put two and two together. He will get -here mid-day to-morrow. I shall meet him casually in the High Street. -He is going to bring Murchison along with him. And I shall give them an -impromptu invitation to dinner." - -"I don't know that I am very keen on having Murchison to dinner," -remarked Mr. Burton in rather a growling tone. - -Miss Burton shrugged her shoulders. "And, perhaps, of the two, I am less -keen than you are. But we have got to play it pretty quiet down here, -till the whole lot of us clear out. Better to let Murchison come. He -is pretty suspicious, as it is, but if we shut him out, he'll be more -suspicious still." - -Mr. Burton chuckled in a grim fashion. - -"Well, our inquisitive friend, the whole lot of them as a matter of -fact, can't do you much harm now. You've got him tight enough. And I'll -say this for him, he's a bit soft and all that sort of thing, but he'll -always play the game." - -The girl did not reply for a moment, then she spoke in a voice that was -low and soft: - -"Yes, he's a dear little chap, he'll always play the game." - -"He can afford to," was the rather ungracious comment. Clearly Mr. -Burton was not in one of his best moods to-day. - -Mr. Pomfret returned from his short leave on the following day, and at -once sought his friend. - -"Glad to be back, old man, got fed-up with London," he cried cheerfully. -His excuse for his visit was that he had to go up to see his aunt's -solicitors, on some pressing affairs which the old lady had entrusted to -him, after her temporary recovery from her dangerous illness. - -Now Murchison was pretty quick. He already had a shrewd suspicion that -Jack had been making a great many surreptitious visits to Rosemount, -that Hugh had been asked there now and again as a blind. And when he -happened to be present, he had noticed that Jack and Norah had taken -very little notice of each other. Jack had cultivated the brother, and -left his friend to entertain the attractive young woman. In itself, this -rather obvious attitude was suspicious. It confirmed his impression that -there was a private understanding between the young people, and that -they were throwing dust in his eyes. - -He had already put two and two together, with regard to the concurrent -absences. Mr. Burton, meeting him in the High Street two days after -Norah's departure, had told him his sister was paying a visit to a -married relative who lived at Brighton. He would have not believed Mr. -Burton on his oath. - -And Jack had taken his few days' leave, with the ostensible object of -attending to his aunt's affairs. - -Hugh was pretty certain that the silly young ass, as he affectionately -designated Jack in his own mind, had arranged to meet Miss Burton for -a day or two in London, in order to enjoy her society, free from -interruption or espionage. Of course, he was far from guessing the -truth. He would not have thought Pomfret capable of any such daring -action. - -Jack had just expressed himself fed-up with London, and yet his -demeanour was jubilant and hilarious. Of course, Hugh could not dream -his attitude was that of the exultant bridegroom, almost intoxicated -with the knowledge of having gained his heart's desire. There had been a -couple of lunches, perhaps a couple of dinners with a theatre thrown in. -The buoyant Jack was living on these blissful memories. - -Later in the day, the two men walked down the High Street, of course in -accordance with a pre-arranged plan decided upon by the artful lovers. -The first person they met was Miss Burton, sauntering along slowly; Miss -Burton, now Mrs. Pomfret, as fast as the ecclesiastical law of England -could make her. - -She welcomed them with her ready and charming smile. "What strangers -we are," she cried gaily. "And how nice to meet my only two friends in -Blankfield." - -Pomfret did a little finessing on his own. 661 have been away for a few -days, too,'' he explained glibly. "Had to go up to London to look -after some business of my poor old aunt's; only got back by the mid-day -train." - -"Did you enjoy your visit?" inquired Hugh of Norah, with that stiffness -which he could never quite dissociate from his manner when addressing -either brother or sister. - -"Yes and No," was the answer. "On the whole, I had quite a good time, -but I am not sorry to get back to Rosemount, and my little household -gods. Knowing you both has made such a difference to my life here." - -She was laying it on a little bit thick, Hugh thought, and he fancied -she looked more at Pomfret than himself, as she said it. But he made a -suitable and courteous reply. - -She was just about to turn away, when a sudden thought seemed to strike -her. - -"As Mr. Pomfret and I have been such wanderers, would it not be nice to -celebrate our return? will you both come to dinner to-night, and we can -relate our experiences?" - -Pomfret jumped at the invitation, and Hugh had to follow suit. As a -matter of fact, he was rather eager to go. They were both playing their -parts very well, but he was quite convinced they _were_ playing a part. -He was more certain about Jack than about her. Jack had been a bit too -glib, had over-acted, as it were. They had met in London, if only for a -few hours; he would have bet a thousand pounds on that. - -Jack declared that he would walk back to Rosemount with Miss Burton. He -did not now care a farthing what members of Blank-field Society he met. -Very shortly, the army would know him no more, and he would take up a -new life with this fearless girl whom he had married on the sly. - -Hugh strolled on, and looked in at the various shops. The High Street -happened to be rather empty on this particular afternoon, the _elite_ of -Blankfield Society had not yet turned out for its usual promenade. - -Turning away from a jeweller's shop window, where he was inspecting some -sleeve-links, he was confronted by a tall, sturdily built man of about -fifty years of age, who raised his hat. - -"I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Captain Murchison?" he -inquired politely. - -Hugh directed a swift glance at him. He was not exactly a common person, -on the other hand he was certainly not a gentleman. There was something -military in his bearing; he might have been a retired Sergeant-Major. - -"That is my name," answered Hugh a little curtly. "And who are you, -please?" - -The tall man took a card from his waistcoat pocket and presented it. -"Those are my credentials, sir." - -Hugh ran his eye over it swiftly. He saw the name, Davidson, a common -one enough, and, in the corner, Scotland Yard. Why the deuce should this -agent of the police want to accost him? And how did he know his name was -Murchison? - -"I think you are acquainted with a family of the name of Burton, brother -and sister they call themselves, who live at a house a little way out -called Rosemount?" - -"Of course I know them, that is to say, in a casual sort of way." -Needless to say that Murchison had never been more surprised in his -life. "Why are you asking these questions?" - -Mr. Davidson darted a keen glance up and down the comparatively empty -High Street. "This is rather an exposed place in which to talk, but I -have something to tell you which I am sure you will be interested to -listen to. I am staying at the 'Anchor,' in a side street from this. If -you will do me the honour to follow me, I can take you into a private -room there, where we shall not be observed nor overheard." - -Like a man in a dream, Hugh found himself following Mr. Davidson to the -"Anchor," one of the second-class hotels in the town. He was quite -sure that this tall, military looking person was going to clear up the -mystery of the couple whom Blankfield, in its wisdom, had refused to -visit, and whose acquaintance he owed to a random meeting at a tea-shop. - -There were only one or two idlers in the entrance-hall of the hotel, -which was of what is known as the "Commercial" kind. Murchison was glad -to find that he did not seem to attract their observation, as he rapidly -crossed over to where his new acquaintance was standing in a rather dark -corner. - -Davidson piloted him into a little sitting-room which opened out of a -long narrow passage. He rang the bell, and ordered refreshments with the -manner of a man who was acquainted with the usages of polite society. - -It would be quite safe to say that Hugh, the heir to a great fortune, -brought up in the lap of luxury, an aristocrat by adoption, if not -exactly by birth, had never found himself up till now in such an -environment. He could not truthfully declare that it was an experience -he wished to repeat. - -Still, he could blame nobody but himself, his foolish action in taking -up with a couple of persons whom Blankfield, in its superior worldly -wisdom, had decided to ignore. As he was in for it, and nothing could -undo the past, it was better to go through with it. Let him accommodate -himself to the situation, drink his whisky-and-soda in this dingy little -parlour of a second-rate hotel, and treat the detective with genial -courtesy. - -After the first mouthful of his drink, Davidson began to explain. - -"Of course, sir, I quite understand this is not the sort of thing or -the sort of place to which you are accustomed," he said, waving -a deprecatory hand round the shabby little parlour. "But in this -particular case, I and my friend--that friend I may say at the moment -is elsewhere taking his observations--wanted to lie low. It didn't -enter into our scheme to put up at a swagger hotel, and run the risk of -gossip. It might have reached the ears of those we are after, and scared -them off." Hugh listened attentively. There was something very serious -in the wind now, and the dwellers at Rosemount were as yet unaware of -what was impending. - -His surprise expressed itself in the direct question which he shot at -the detective: "I take it you are here to arrest them, then?" - -"One of them, the man," corrected Mr. Davidson, quietly; "we know a good -deal about the girl, but we have no evidence that implicates her beyond -the fact of her association with him, and from our point of view that -means nothing in a Court of Law." - -"What is his offence?" asked the startled Hugh. - -"Forgery," was the laconic answer. "He belongs to a pretty well-known -gang, and we have had our suspicions of him for a long time now, but he -was devilish clever and cunning. Several of his pals were caught, but it -was always difficult to rope him in. We shouldn't have got him now but -for the fact of one of his pals peaching. And even now, although the -evidence is strong enough for us, I doubt if it is strong enough to get -him more than a comparatively light sentence. If he can lay hold of a -clever counsel, and there will be some money at the back of him, if not -a great deal, he won't come off so badly." - -So Mr. Burton was a criminal, and had been living in Blankfield on the -proceeds of his nefarious calling. The rich uncle in Australia who had -left him a comfortable fortune was a myth. - -"I suppose he has been on the 'crook' all his life?" queried Hugh. - -"Ever since he has come under our observation," was the reply of the -detective. "Before he joined the present gang, a few of whom we have -collared from time to time, card-sharping was his lay. Once he rented an -expensive flat in Paris, and I believe made a tidy bit out of it. That -is where the young lady first appeared upon the scene." - -"But how long ago is that? She doesn't look more than twenty." - -"I know," said Mr. Davidson. "She looks wonderfully young, that is one -of her assets. As a matter of fact I should say she was twenty-four at -the least. The Parisian episode occurred about five years ago, making -her nineteen at the time. He was there about twelve months, at the end -of which time he got an introduction to the forging gang, and chucked -the cards in favour of a more remunerative game." - -"She acted, I suppose, as a decoy and confederate?" - -"So I am given to understand. She very seldom played herself, but used -to signal the opponents' cards to him." - -"What a precious pair," groaned Hugh. He had long been doubtful of them, -but he had never anticipated this. - -"Now, Captain Murchison, there is a little question I want to ask you," -said the detective briskly, after a brief pause. "My pal and I only -arrived here yesterday, but we have not been idle, we have picked up -a good deal. We have discovered that nobody in Blankfield visits them, -except yourself and another officer, a Mr. Pomfret. That is true, is it -not?" - -"Quite true," assented Murchison. - -"You frequently go to their house together. But perhaps I may be telling -you something you don't know when I say that Mr. Pomfret more frequently -has gone alone." - -"I have had my suspicions some time," was Hugh's answer. - -"Now tell me, please; I suppose in the evenings you played cards, or -roulette, or some game of chance. I thought so. Did you lose much? Had -you any suspicions they were rooking you?" - -"On my first visit, a suspicion that they might do so crossed my mind. -But nothing of the sort was attempted. I should say that, up to the -present, my friend and I stand a bit to the good. Evidently, that was -not their object." - -"Clearly," assented the shrewd detective, "they had a deeper game than -that on. They wanted to catch this young friend of yours for a husband, -and failing that, to entrap him, so that they could blackmail him on the -threat of a breach of promise case." - -"It looks as if that was their object." - -"Now, Captain Murchison, may I ask you if your friend is a man likely -to fall into the trap? I saw him in the High Street this afternoon -with you: and if I may say so without offence, he doesn't give me the -impression of a very strong or self-reliant person." - -Hugh shook his head. "I fear he is very weak, very impulsive, very -emotional, a ready prey for a designing woman." - -"Have you any idea how far the thing has gone?" - -To this question Hugh could only reply in the negative. His one hope was -that the foolish boy had seen her so often that there was no necessity -to write incriminating letters. - -"Well, Captain Murchison, my object in asking you to grant me an -interview was two-fold. In the first place, I wanted to know if there -had been any card-sharping. Then, as I am aware you go to the house, I -wished to tell you that I and my friend are going to take him to-night. -It might happen that you would be going there, and of course, you will -not want to be on the stage when we play our little comedy." - -"We have promised to go to dinner tonight. She asked us both when we met -her this afternoon." - -"And of course now, you will not go. I will take him before dinner-time, -so you need not send round any excuses." - -Poor Hugh felt very miserable. What he especially shirked was having to -tell this sordid narrative to Pomfret. He expressed to the detective his -shrinking from the unwelcome task. - -"I quite understand, sir, but it's got to be done," replied the -detective, firmly. For a few seconds after he had spoken, he seemed to -be thinking deeply. Then he came out with a startling proposition. - -"Look here, Captain Murchison, something has just occurred to me. I am -not sure whether you will think it a good plan. Just now I thought it -would be better for you not to be there. But if this young gentleman -is so gone on the girl, it might make a deeper impression on him, bring -home to him more strongly the sense of her unworthiness, if he were -actually present at the scene. And it would spare you any painful -explanations, beforehand. Afterwards you can tell him or not, as you -please, about our interview here." - -Hugh made a gesture of disgust. "You propose that we should carry out -our original intention of dining there and of sitting at the table of a -criminal? I don't think I could bring myself to it." - -If Mr. Davidson did not quite agree with the young man's scruples, he -was open-minded enough to see the matter from Hugh's point of view. - -"I quite understand, sir. But I think I can manage it all right. You -say they dine at eight. Get there with your friend a quarter of an hour -before. I will be there with my friend at five minutes to, before the -dinner is served. You then won't have to sit at his table, you see." - -Hugh was still hesitating. Mr. Davidson proceeded to clinch his -argument. - -"You see, sir, it will be so much better for Mr. Pomfret to see with -his own eyes and hear with his own ears. When he has seen us clap -the darbies on Burton, and listened to what I can tell him about the -girl--you can just give me a lead there, if you don't mind--I think he -will be cured of his calf-love on the spot. As far as he is concerned, -we want to make a swift and sudden cure, to kill his affection at once." - -Yes, on the whole, after a little further reflection Murchison was -disposed to fall in with this new suggestion. Pomfret, however deep his -infatuation, could not resist the evidence of his own senses. He would -be much more strongly impressed than by a mere bald narration of the -facts as conveyed to his friend by the detective. - -So it was settled. Hugh would bring Pomfret to Rosemount at twenty -minutes or a quarter to eight. At five minutes to, Davidson and his -colleague would present themselves to execute their painful errand. - -"Just a word before I go," said the young man as he turned towards the -door. "Is the man's name really Burton, or only an alias?" - -"That is his real name. Of course he has had aliases. His family, I -understand, are respectable people of the lower middle-class. He was the -black sheep, born with crooked and criminal instincts." - -"And the girl, is she really his sister?" - -"On that point, I have no positive information," replied Davidson. "She -has passed as such ever since the Paris days. But I should very much -doubt it. I am informed that they are very unlike in manners and -appearance, that he is a rough sort of fellow, while she would pass -anywhere for a lady." - -Hugh went back to the barracks, more than rejoiced at the fact that the -detective seemed to have appeared on the scene in the very nick of time. -If marriage was contemplated as the result of this clandestine wooing, -what a terrible tragedy would be averted from the unlucky Pomfret! - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -|It was twenty minutes to eight as the two young men rang at the -door-bell of Rosemount. Pomfret was always a slow dresser. It was only -by extraordinary efforts that Hugh had got him off in time. - -Brother and sister were awaiting them in the pretty drawing-room, lit -with softly shaded lamps. Miss Burton rose to meet them, she extended -a hand to each, in her pretty graceful way, as if she looked upon them -both as her dearest friends, and would make no difference between them -in her greeting. - -But Hugh was very wide-awake, after his meeting with the detective, and -he did notice that the left hand which she extended to Pomfret lingered -a little longer in his responsive clasp than did the right which she had -given to him. - -Yes, it was obvious that their acquaintance had gone far. There was -even, he fancied, an intelligent sympathy in their mutual glances. -Pomfret was the lover, Hugh Murchison was simply the friend. - -Mr. Burton welcomed them heartily. "Just like old times," he cried in -his rough, breezy fashion. "I've been like a fish out of water during -Norah's absence. It was just like her to organise a little party, simply -us four, to celebrate her return." - -It struck Hugh that his conviviality was just a trifle forced, that he -seemed "jumpy" and nervous. Had he by chance spotted those two strangers -in the High Street, and wondered what manner of men they were? - -Pomfret settled himself on the chesterfield beside Norah, in spite -of her rather obvious signals to preserve a more discreet attitude. -Ignorant of what was going to happen a few minutes hence, her great -object was to conceal the fact that Jack should take the position of an -acknowledged lover. - -In her secret heart, she was very apprehensive of Murchison. She knew he -was suspicious of her, and he had a sort of elder brother affection for -Pomfret. She was not by any means sure as to the lengths to which this -fraternal feeling might lead him. It might even inspire him to evoke the -assistance of the Pomfret family, and then the security of her present -position might be menaced. - -The secret marriage was, after all, in the nature of a gamble. If things -turned out as she expected, if the old aunt died in reasonable time, the -odds were in her favour. She could twist Jack round her little finger. -But nobody knew better than this astute young woman of the world that -there is many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Something that she had -not calculated, not foreseen, might happen at any moment, and her house -of cards might tumble to the ground. Her adventurous life had taught her -never to be too sure of momentary prosperity. - -She was a little bit nervous and "jumpy," like her brother, to-night. -Her smile was a little forced, her high spirits rather assumed. The -wedding-ring, the marriage certificate hidden from sight, were great -assets. And yet, was it all just a little too good to be quite true? - -Murchison talked with the brother, desultory sort of talk, hardly -conscious of what he was saying. His ears were straining for the sound -of that eletric-bell which would herald the arrival of Davidson and his -colleague. - -And it came very quickly. There was a loud, imperative peal. Burton -started from his seat, and forgot his assumed good manners. - -"Who the devil is that?" he cried fiercely. "Do they want to knock the -house down?" It was the vulgar exclamation of a very vulgar man. - -Miss Burton was more mistress of herself, but Hugh observed that her -cheek went a shade paler. Well, it was only natural. These two had been -living in fear of the law for more years than they cared to remember. -And they had thought they were safely in harbour. Poor fools! - -She turned to Pomfret, and forced a wan smile. "It is really quite -alarming, Mr. Pomfret, visitors at this time of the evening. And you -know so well that nobody in Blankfield, except yourselves, ever crosses -our threshold." - -The happy Jack, the husband of a few short hours, was quite unperturbed. -He smiled back at her confidently. - -"Somebody come to the wrong house, I should say. Why, you have gone -quite pale! What a nervous little thing it is!" He whispered the last -sentence in a lover-like tone. - -Murchison felt every nerve in his body tingling. Jack was in a state of -ignorance. The brother and sister, he was sure, were filled with vague -and undefined alarms. He, alone out of the four sitting in that charming -little drawing-room awaiting the announcement of dinner, was sure of -what was going to happen. - -He stole a look across at Pomfret with the happy, fatuous smile of the -successful lover on his face. Poor devil! In another couple of minutes -he would be terribly disillusioned. - -There was a heavy trampling of feet across the hall. The visitors, -whoever they were, had pushed past the trim and ladylike parlourmaid. - -The drawing-room door was flung open, and the two big men, Davidson and -his colleague, advanced towards Burton who was standing in the middle of -the room. - -The detective spoke in a clear, ringing voice. "It's all up, Mr. Burton, -I won't trouble to recount your various aliases. I've a warrant here to -arrest you on a charge of forgery. You've gone free for some time, but -one of your old pals has peached upon you. Hard luck for you, otherwise -you might have been playing still, perhaps for ever, this nice little -'stunt' at Blankfield. I suppose you will come quietly?" - -For a few seconds George Burton indulged in some horrible imprecations. -In the same breath he protested his absolute innocence, and denounced -the "pal" who had betrayed him. Mr. Davidson cut him short, as he -fastened the handcuffs on his wrist. - -"Stow it, old man! Be a sport. It's a fair cop, isn't it? You knew the -risk you ran when you went into this business." - -Mr. Burton subsided. "Yes, it's a fair cop," he growled. "I don't blame -you, you are only doing your duty. I've no grudge against you. But by -Heaven, when I come out, I'll do for that swine who has given me away, -if I have to swing for it." - -Pomfret had risen from his seat on the chesterfield at the dramatic -entrance of the two strangers. Norah had risen also. In the few seconds -that elapsed between their entrance and the clapping of the handcuffs -on Burton, she stretched out appealing arms to him, and cried out in a -voice of despair: - -"Stand by me, Jack, stand by me. I knew nothing of this. It is as great -a surprise to me as to you. Oh, my poor brother! He has done this for -love of me." - -Murchison heard the impassioned tones, the despairing appeal. They -would have melted a heart of stone. What effect would they have upon the -unsuspicious Jack? - -Pomfret withdrew himself, almost coldly, from the proffered embrace. In -a few seconds, as it seemed to Hugh, he had grown from a boy to a man. - -He turned to the detective, and Hugh was delighted at the sudden dignity -that seemed to have come to him. - -"You seem to know a great deal about this man whom you have handcuffed, -and who admits you are only doing your duty. Do you know anything about -his sister, Miss Burton?" - -Mr. Davidson glanced significantly at Murchison. They had arranged -a little conversation between themselves, but Jack's frankness had -rendered this unnecessary. - -"What I know of the young lady, sir, I am sorry to tell you, is not to -her credit. She has been associated with this man for some years. She -started with him in Paris some time ago, when he was a card-sharper, and -running a gambling-saloon. But to be fair, she is not in this business -with him, and I have nothing against her." - -"Are they what they represent themselves to be, brother and sister?" -Pomfret's voice was very quiet, but there was in it a suppressed note -of agony. How he had loved this girl, and a few hours ago he had clasped -her in his arms as his wife! - -The keen eyes of the detective softened as he looked at Jack, who was -hiding the most intense agitation under an apparently stoical demeanour. - -"I have no accurate information on that point, sir, but I should very -much doubt the fact of their relationship." - -While this brief conversation was taking place between Pomfret and -Davidson, Norah was still standing with arms outstretched. - -Again there came forth the appealing, impassioned cry: "Jack, stand by -me! Jack, stand by me!" She sank down on the sofa, and put her hands -before her face. "Stay with me, wait till they have all gone, and I will -explain everything. I have nothing to do with this." - -But Pomfret stood like a man turned to stone. Then suddenly, Norah gave -a little gurgling cry, and fainted. Pomfret made a step towards her, and -halted. His great love for her had been killed. Perhaps at this moment -he hated her more than he had ever loved her. - -The parlour-maid, with a white face, was peeping in the room. Davidson -beckoned to her. - -"My colleague will help you to take her up to her room. Look after her. -She's as game as they make them, but to-night's t been too much for her. -She has been playing for big stakes, and she has lost." - -The maid and Davidson's burly assistant lifted up the recumbent form. -And when they had carried her out, Pomfret's self-control seemed to give -way. He suddenly clutched at his throat and turned to Hugh. - -"Old man, I have had as much as I can stand. For Heaven's sake, take me -from this accursed house." - -Hugh put his arm under his to steady him. - -The boy's nerve had gone, he was trembling like a man stricken with the -ague. There was no cab or taxi to be got in this outlying district. They -had to walk back to the barracks. - -Hugh planted him in an easy-chair in his own quarters, and mixed him a -stiff peg. Even Dutch courage was better than nothing. Pom-fret drank it -in two big gulps. Then he pulled himself together. - -"I have been an infernal fool, old man," he gasped, "an infernal fool." - -Hugh spoke soothingly. "Of course you have. But the folly is over. You -now know Norah Burton and her rascally brother for what they are, a pair -of criminals and adventurers." - -"But you don't know all," groaned the unfortunate Jack. "Norah Burton is -my wife. I married her secretly the other day, by special licence, while -I was up in London." - -Hugh leapt to his feet in astonishment. He had his own ideas of that -visit to London, coupled with Norah's absence. But that Pom-fret, weak -and impressionable as he was, should have made such a fool of himself, -was beyond the limits of his comprehension. - -In a moment he pulled himself together. The poor lad was in a big mess -enough, it was no time to rub it in. "Tell me all about it, old chap," -he said quietly. - -And Pomfret told him. He made it clear, perfect gentleman as he -was, that Norah had been the least to blame in the matter, that -the suggestion had come from himself, that Norah had insisted upon -consulting her brother before yielding to his wishes. - -Yes, of course, Hugh could understand all that. They had known just the -kind of man they were dealing with. They had hooked and landed their -fish well. To a woman in her uncertain state, a husband with some -prospects was better than her insecure position with a scoundrel like -George Burton. - -Hugh filled a big pipe full up with a very strong and potent tobacco. -He thought better when he was smoking, and this was a situation that -demanded a good deal of thought. - -After a while he spoke. "Well, Jack, let us look facts in the face. What -is done can't be undone. You have married this woman, and as long as she -lives she is entitled to call herself Mrs. Pomfret, and you will have to -keep her. There is no getting over that." - -The unhappy Jack groaned. There was no getting over that. This -attractive, charming young woman, sister or confederate, or whatever -relationship she stood in to this wretched criminal, was his legal wife, -and, if she chose, she could make things very uncomfortable for him. - -"Well, old man, you have made a hash of your life at the very beginning -of it. As I say, that can't be undone. You've got to make the best of -it. I suppose you have entered into some financial arrangements with -her." - -"Seven hundred a year till I come into my aunt's money. After that, -of course, our marriage was to be acknowledged, and we would live -together." - -"I see," said Hugh, assuming a cheerfulness he did not quite feel. -"Well, I should not say she would try for more than her seven hundred a -year at present. When your aunt dies she will of course fight for a bit -more. I take it, after to-night's work, you will never want to live with -her, cajoling and attractive as she is." - -Pomfret shuddered. "After what that fellow said, my love for her died. -But, by Heaven, Hugh, I did love her while I believed in her." - -"Of course, of course. Have you signed any document about that seven -hundred, by the way?" - -"Not yet. My solicitor is sending me the document to-day, it will reach -me to-morrow morning." - -"It will make it a little easier to deal with her, then. Are you going -to leave yourself in my hands? I don't think she will be very full of -fight for the next few days." - -"Certainly I will, Hugh. Do your best for me. I never want to see her -again, of that you may be sure." - -Murchison reflected deeply before he spoke again. "I doubt if she will -trouble you very much. It won't be very difficult to compromise with -her, she has too much to hide. And now for yourself." - -"Yes," groaned the unhappy Pomfret, in a hollow voice. "And now for -myself. What do you suggest?" - -"There's only one thing to do, and that is to put the past behind -you. As long as this woman lives, you can never marry. But many men go -through life and remain bachelors, and are not altogether unhappy. You -must make up your mind to be one of the bachelors, Jack." - -But Jack looked very despairing. The shock had been a terrible one. In -spite of the stiff peg he had taken, his face was still livid, and his -hands were shaking. - -Hugh looked at him anxiously. He was very weak; had the occurrences -of this terrible night driven him over the border line that separates -sanity from insanity? - -Presently he muttered, almost as if to himself, certain disjointed -phrases. Hugh caught a few of them, repeated again and again. - -"Tied to her for life, she will outlive me, tied to her for life. She -will never let me go. My poor family! I have always been a fool, but up -to now have never brought disgrace to them. And God forgive me, I was -reckoning on the death of my poor old generous aunt, it is idle to say -I did not speculate on it. And for what, for what?--the pretended -affection, the bought kisses of this adventuress, a card-sharper's -decoy, who told me lying tales about the way in which her criminal -associate had inherited his money." - -He rambled on like this for some quarter of an hour, and Murchison -judged it was better to let him ease his mind in such a fashion. - -In a way, the poor foolish boy's brain had cleared up to a point; he was -able to look the facts squarely in the face. His infatuation might have -been so deep that he might, under these damning circumstances, have -fallen a victim to her wiles a second time. She would no doubt have -been prepared, if he had given her the opportunity, to have sworn her -innocence, to have protested that she was the victim of circumstantial -evidence, that she had believed what her brother had told her, that she -had never been a partner in, or a confidant of, his criminal schemes. - -No, so far the rude shock had cleared his brain, made him see and think -more clearly. But Murchison very much feared that the agonising remorse -for his folly was obscuring it in another direction. - -He seemed to look upon himself as something unclean in having allowed -himself to be contaminated by association with such a wretched -adventuress. He was also acutely conscious that, at the best, he would -have to take this horrible secret with him to the grave, unless it -sprang suddenly to light, as such secrets have a knack of doing. Above -all, he keenly felt the disgrace he had inflicted on his family. - -There was a great deal more desultory talk, and Hugh gave him the best -advice he could under the unhappy circumstances--a reiteration of the -"put it behind you and live it down" philosophy. This would have come -easy to a man of the rocky and stolid type to which Murchison belonged -by temperament. But Jack was highly-strung and impulsive. There was no -ballast in him. - -Hugh almost had to push him out of the room. But, before doing so, he -mixed the boy another stiff peg, with the hope that it would induce -sleep and purchase him the oblivion of a few hours. - -"Now then, old man, toddle off. Get a good night's rest, and when you -wake tomorrow, you will find things look pretty black, but not quite so -black as now. If this young woman contemplates a deep game, and wants to -insist overmuch on her rights as your wife, I will deal with her on your -behalf. I'll warrant I bring her to reason." - -The poor distraught boy clasped his friend's hand convulsively. "Hugh, -old chap, you are the best friend a man could ever have, true as steel." - -"Don't say that," replied Hugh with a little break in his voice. "I am -bound to do the best for you. It was owing to my infernal folly that you -ever set foot in that cursed house. I am older and stronger than you, I -ought to have known better. Well, good old Jack, good-night! I tell you, -things won't look quite as black to-morrow." - -But to Hugh's intense grief and remorse, there was no morrow for the -unhappy boy, whose mind had been quite unhinged by the events of -that terrible night. One could only surmise that he had found sleep -impossible, and in a fit of frenzy had taken his life to escape from a -future so black and discouraging. - -When his servant went to call him in the morning, he found his master -lying on the floor, with a bullet-hole in the middle of his forehead. -Everybody in the barracks had been fast asleep when the poor boy had -fired the shot that was to take him out of his troubles, and nobody had -heard the report. - -At the inquest, the whole miserable story came out. Of course it came -through Hugh, the only person who was in possession of it. He narrated -the details of his acquaintance with the Burtons, the introduction -of Jack Pomfret to the house, the scene at Rosemount when the two -detectives had taken the man, Jack's confession that he had made the -girl his wife a few hours previously. - -Hugh never forgot that interview with the Colonel, in which "Old -Fireworks" poured out his wrath in no measured terms. He roundly called -him an infernal fool for mixing himself up with people of whom he knew -nothing, and whom Blankfield in its ignorance of their antecedents had -declined to visit--and very wisely. - -"If it had been poor Jack, a dear lad but a foolish, I could have found -it in my heart to forgive him," he ended. "But you are a man of another -sort, you have got your wits about you, if you choose to exercise them. -I will never pardon you that day's work. You can play with fire and not -be scorched, but he couldn't. That poor boy's death lies at your door, -sir. I hope you realise it." - -Yes, Hugh did realise it. He stood with bowed head, and could not utter -a word in self-defence. - -The news, of course, was all over the town the next morning, or rather -the double news--that George Burton had been arrested by two detectives -from Scotland Yard, and that in the early morning of the following -day Jack Pomfret had blown out his brains. The evidence at the inquest -explained the double event. - -The news of her young husband's suicide reached Norah early in the -morning. She had gambled and lost. The old adventurous life was in front -of her again. - -She took the buffets of fate with the stoicism of her kind and class. -She had a comfortable little nest-egg put by which stood between her and -present want. If only Jack had been less emotional, she would not have -troubled him much, been content with quite a little. It is to be feared -that, in her bitter disappointment, she felt a little sore against Jack -for his moral cowardice in getting comfortably out of it himself, and -leaving her in the lurch. - -Anyway, she faced the situation with a courage that one could not refuse -to admire. By two o'clock that same day the servants had been paid their -wages, the keys of the furnished house handed over to the agent, and -Mrs. Pomfret had departed for London. - -Murchison could never forget that terrible time till something came -that seemed to dwarf all other things. In August, nineteen hundred and -fourteen, there burst the first storm of the war which shook the world -to its centre. In the blood-soaked plains of France he forgot everything -except his country. - -Jack Pomfret and Norah Burton seemed dim memories in those strenuous -times of the world's upheaval. And yet, when he had a moment's leisure -to think of the past, he felt a savage longing to be even with that -fair-faced, smiling adventuress who had driven his poor young friend to -a suicide's grave. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -|It's a good proposition, old man. You couldn't employ a couple of hours -better. I have been in London Society of all sorts for the best part of -my life, and I tell you that Stella Keane is the most charming girl I -have ever met." - -The speaker was little Tommy Esmond, short, genial, and rotund of -person. Tommy knew everybody who was anybody, and everybody knew the -mercurial Tommy. - -Guy Spencer puffed leisurely at his cigar, and regarded his rotund -little friend with an amused smile. Spencer was about thirty, Tommy was -old enough to be his father. But he wore well. - -"Most excellent Tommy, how many times have I heard you say the same -thing? Every girl you come across is the most charming you have ever -met--until one sees you the next week. And then, the last girl has the -super-charm--like the young lady you just mentioned, Miss Stella Keane." - -But Esmond was not to be rebuffed by a clumsy attempt at humour on the -part of a young man so much his junior. Besides, Tommy was impervious -to humour. It fell off him, like water from a duck's back. In his way he -was a very strenuous little man, he had no time to frivol. - -"Don't try to be funny, old man: it doesn't suit you. Be sensible, and -come round with me to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat and be introduced to Miss -Keane." - -"It's an interesting suggestion, Tommy, but before I decide tell me -first--who is Mrs. L'Estrange, and secondly, who and what is Miss -Keane?" - -And Tommy Esmond launched forth on a full flow of narrative. Mrs. -L'Estrange was the first cousin of a well-known Irish earl, and -was--well, in somewhat reduced circumstances, and had a snug little flat -in the Cadogan district. - -"Mrs. L'Estrange is quite satisfactorily explained," remarked Guy, -interrupting his rather voluble friend. "Now what do you really know -about Miss Keane?" - -Here, Esmond was a little less precise. Mrs. L'Estrange he knew quite -well, had known her ever since he had been in London; her ancestry and -connections were unimpeachable. - -Miss Keane, it would appear, had been suddenly projected into the -L'Estrange household, as it were, from space. He understood that she -was a distant connection, a far-off cousin, but he could give no -particulars. - -Tommy, with the born instinct of the true diplomatist, was always ready -to present everything in its best light, but he lacked the one essential -quality of the born diplomatist--he was not very successful when he came -to camouflaging facts. - -Spencer's smile was more amused than ever, as he regarded his genial -friend. Spencer was only thirty, and Tommy was at least old enough to -be his father. But there were times when the younger man thought he saw -more clearly than the elder. - -"Let us put it at this, Tommy. Mrs. L'Estrange, being in somewhat -straitened circumstances, supplements her meagre income by card-playing, -at which I have no doubt she is an adept." - -And here, the usually placid Tommy interposed hotly: "You may say -of Mrs. L'Estrange what you like. But, if you propose to offer any -derogatory remarks about Miss Keane, I would rather not listen to them." - -And Spencer kept a curb on his tongue. Was this fat, comical-looking -little man, a most unromantic figure, violently in love with Miss Stella -Keane, and her sworn champion? Far be it from him to disturb his faith -in this seductive siren, if it were so. - -"It's all right, old chap," he said quietly. "I am not going to make any -remarks, derogatory or otherwise, about Miss Keane. I think I will adopt -your suggestion. Let us adjourn to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat. If one loses -fifty or a hundred one may have a good time." - -"You will see the most charming girl in London," cried Esmond in -enthusiastic tones. It struck Spencer, as a peculiar phase of his t -friend's detachment, that, being in love with the girl himself, he -should be so anxious to introduce her to a younger man, who might, -presumably, be his rival. - -For there could be no question of rivalry between the two men, apart -from their ages. Spencer was tall, athletic, handsome: Tommy -Esmond was--just Tommy Esmond--rotund, comical in appearance, and -insignificant. - -Moreover, Spencer had other qualifications which are not without their -influence on the fair sex. He had a considerable fortune, and he was the -next in succession to an ancient earldom. If the Earl of Southleigh, a -widower, did not marry again, he would succeed to the title and estates. -He was, in every sense of the term, an eligible _parti_. - -The long, weary war was drawing to its close. The two men were dining -at the fashionable "Excelsior" and were now about half-way through their -dinner. - -Spencer had the bearing of a soldier, and he would have been at the -Front long ago, but no doctor could be found who would pass him. To all -appearance, he possessed the thews and sinews of an athlete, but the -stalwart, manly frame covered an incurably weak heart, which played him -strange tricks at times. He was serving his country in the best way open -to him, and doing good, sound clerical work in a Government Office. - -"When do you suggest we should put in an appearance at Mrs. -L'Estrange's?" he asked presently. - -"It will take us another half-hour to get through this abundant meal. -You will then have your coffee, and you will want a good and long -cigar. We began rather late, you will remember. By the time you have got -through your smoke, we will make a move. We shall then find them in full -swing." - -Guy nodded, and went on with his dinner. He was quite willing to go to -the L'Estrange flat: he had no other engagement this evening, and -it would be something to do. But he was not greatly interested about -meeting the most beautiful girl in London. In spite of his friend's -almost lyrical outbursts, he expected that Miss Stella Keane would prove -a very ordinary young woman. - -Suddenly Tommy Esmond uttered an exclamation. "Look, there they are," he -whispered excitedly across the table. "Mrs. L'Estrange and her cousin. -The man with them is Colonel Desmond, the man who won the Victoria Cross -in the Boer war." - -Tommy's round face was red with pleasurable emotion. Was there any -doubt, thought Spencer, that the little man was tremendously smitten by -the beautiful Miss Keane? would it result in a marriage, he wondered? -Tommy was well-off, and a person of some importance in his little social -world. And if Miss Keane was as lovely as his fond imagination painted -her, it was quite evident that she was poor. Penniless young girls have -before now accepted the shelter of a safe home, even when offered by -comical-looking little elderly men. - -The three newcomers moved to a vacant table; Mrs. L'Estrange, a woman of -middle age, dressed rather more youthfully than was quite in good taste, -their escort, a tall figure in khaki, very upright and soldierly in his -bearing, in spite of his sixty years, and last, but by no means least, -the beautiful Miss Keane. - -Yes, at the first glance, the young man decided that she fully deserved -his friend's somewhat extravagant praise. If everybody in London was not -raving over her, it was simply due to the fact that her cousin's circle -was not important, and that she had found nobody of sufficient social -influence to launch her with the necessary _cachet_. - -If she had made her _debut_ at one of the great houses, stamped with -the approval of any one of London's distinguished hostesses, Society -journals would have gone into rhapsodies over her, and she would have -been one of the reigning beauties of the hour, far, far beyond the -aspirations of little Tommy Esmond. - -His own special taste rather inclined towards fair women, his cousin, -Lady Nina, of whom he was very fond, being a charming specimen of that -type. But he was no bigot in the matter of feminine beauty, and he was -prepared to admit that there were some dark women who could compare -favourably with their blonde sisters. - -But Stella Keane was not very dark. She had soft brown eyes, glossy -dark hair, and a beautiful creamy complexion, a mouth like Cupid's bow, -revealing when she smiled, teeth of a dazzling ivory. Her figure would -have been pronounced perfect by the most critical and fastidious artist. - -"What do you think of her?" asked the delighted Tommy, after he had -given his friend a decent time for his inspection. - -Tommy was a man whose friends had got into the habit of smiling at him, -even when they agreed with him. Spencer smiled at him quite as often as -any of his acquaintance, but at this moment he was perfectly grave. - -"You are quite right, old man, this time," he said quietly. "She is -really beautiful, and her carriage is splendid. She looks like a young -Empress--or, rather, she fulfils one's idea of what a young Empress -should be." - -Tommy beamed. He drank in the words of unstinted praise like wine. The -little blue eyes, usually devoid of expression, seemed suffused with -a soft emotion. There was something pathetic in his devotion to this -radiant young woman who looked like a youthful Empress. - -"And she is as good and sweet as she looks," he murmured in a voice that -he could not keep steady. "When she talks to you seriously and lets -you know what she really thinks and feels, by gad, Spencer, it makes a -battered old worldling like myself feel unworthy to be in her presence. -For she has a beautiful soul and mind as well as a beautiful body." - -Spencer could only look sympathetic. Poor little Tommy, he certainly -seemed to talk like a lover. And what did Miss Keane think of it all? -She must have more than a mere tolerance for him, or she would not have -allowed him those peeps into her mind and soul to which he alluded with -such unrestrained rapture. - -It was some time before Esmond's intense gaze attracted the attention -of the party, and when it did, he was rewarded with a most affable smile -from Mrs. L'Estrange, and one of quite pronounced friendliness from Miss -Keane. The Colonel also bestowed a genial nod. - -After a pause, Tommy spoke somewhat ruefully. "I'm afraid this rather -upsets our little plans. Mrs. L'Estrange is a most conscientious diner: -she will be here, at the lowest calculation, for an hour and a half, -counting the coffee and cigarettes. They won't be back at the flat under -a couple. You wouldn't care to wait so long." - -He looked rather wistfully at his companion. He, for his own part, would -have waited half the night. - -"Don't let us commit ourselves, old man, but await events. We haven't -finished our dinner yet, and the service is deucedly slow. We can put -in a lot more time. You can pay your respects at a fitting moment, and -perhaps they will ask us to their table. I must confess I should like -to see Miss Keane at closer quarters, and talk to her. Although I don't -expect she will reveal as much to me as she does to you." - -Tommy looked pleased again; he was very bent upon introducing Spencer to -his beautiful young friend. It would come about presently: if not here, -in the lounge. Already, Mrs. L'Estrange had sent a few covert glances -in the direction of their table. There was little doubt she knew who -his companion was, and would be quite pleased to number him amongst her -acquaintance. - -"Has Miss Keane many admirers? She should have," remarked Spencer -presently. He noticed that Esmond's eyes were always turned in the -direction of that particular table. - -"Not any serious ones, I fancy. A few young fellows send her flowers, -but nothing more. It is quite an unsuitable _menage_ for a girl of her -attractions. The majority of the _habitues_ are middle-aged men who -go there simply to gamble. The few young ones come for a flutter, and -disappear when they have had enough." - -"Does the young lady play?" - -"I have never seen her. She has told me scores of times that she loathes -gambling. Her father ruined himself by it. I believe she is really very -unhappy there. And I gather Mrs. L'Estrange has not the best of tempers, -particularly when she has had bad luck." - -"Hobson's choice, I expect," suggested Spencer sympathetically. Miss -Keane was facing him, giving him ample opportunity to examine the -beautiful countenance, and it struck him that there was an underlying -expression of sadness on the perfect features, especially when in -repose. - -"I fear so," was Esmond's answer. "She is very reticent about her own -affairs, as any gentlewoman would be. But from certain things she has -let drop, I make out her own means are very slender, and her cousin's -hospitality is a boon to her." - -Half an hour passed, and Spencer lit a big cigar. The two men chatted -on various topics. Mrs. L'Estrange and the Colonel were still doing full -justice to the excellent dishes offered them. Miss Keane was apparently -satisfied, and sat quietly watching her companions, and throwing in an -occasional remark. - -And suddenly came the loud sound of maroons. Everybody started. A few -seconds later the clamour and roaring of our own guns burst forth. There -was no doubt as to what was happening. The Germans were making one of -their unwelcome visits. - -"By heavens, it's a raid, and we are in the thick of it," cried Tommy -Esmond, rising excitedly. He was a nervous little man, and his face had -grown a shade pale at the sound of the first boom. - -In a few moments there was a stampede from the dining-room. The guests -hurried as fast as they could to the basement and cellars. - -Tommy, in his progress, was impeded by two burly men who were making -their way leisurely. Spencer was a few feet in front of him, making for -the crowd that surged round the doors. As he looked around the deserted -tables, he saw Miss Keane standing alone, her eyes almost rigid with -terror, her hands clutching convulsively the back of the chair on -which she had been sitting. It was evident that the Colonel had quickly -removed Mrs. L'Estrange from the scene of danger, and she had been too -panic-stricken to follow them. - -He crossed over to her. "Excuse me," he said gently. "I am a friend of -Mr. Esmond's. How is it you are alone? Did your companions desert you?" - -"Colonel Desmond took my cousin, and told me to keep close behind them. -when I got up, my limbs seemed unable to move. I feel as if I were -paralysed." - -He took her arm and put it through his. It was evident she had been -rendered immobile by terror. - -"I will take care of you," he said soothingly. "Downstairs you will be -quite safe. But we will let this crowd get through first." - -Tommy Esmond came bustling up, all anxiety. Truth to tell, he did -not feel over brave, but his anxiety for himself was lost in the -contemplation of her white face and stricken eyes. - -Slowly, cheered by the presence of the two men, a little colour flowed -back into her cheeks, and she smiled wanly. - -"I am a fearful coward," she explained. "I go all to pieces in even the -mildest thunderstorm." - -And it was in this wise, amid the crash of falling bombs, and the roar -and clamour of our own guns, that Guy Spencer made the acquaintance of -Stella Keane. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -|They found shelter in one of the big cellars of the Restaurant, and -Miss Keane by degrees got back some of her courage. There were about -twenty other persons in the same refuge, and she probably derived -fortitude from their temporary companionship, and common danger. Tommy -Esmond recovered himself very quickly, and hastened to observe the -conventions. - -"It is a queer time and place in which to make introductions," he -remarked genially. "But even in times of peril, one should preserve -the usages of good society. I don't suppose you know the name of -your gallant rescuer. Let me make you known, in a formal fashion. Mr. -Spencer--Miss Keane." - -The beautiful Stella bowed her dark head, and the ghost of a smile -flitted over her still pale face. - -"I know Mr. Spencer very well by sight. When I have recovered my wits, I -will thank him properly and prettily. Perhaps he will come and see us at -my cousin's flat." - -"I was bringing him on there to-night, as a matter of fact," explained -Esmond. "But I presume all that is knocked on the head, even supposing -we get out of this disgusting hole in reasonable time. Mrs. L'Estrange -won't be in a mood to receive visitors, after this disquieting -experience, I am sure." - -"I am afraid you don't know Mrs. L'Estrange," replied the girl, with a -little mocking laugh. Her tones were not yet quite steady, but she -was rapidly recovering herself. "The card tables were laid before we -started, and we intended to be back early. If we get out safely from -this disgusting hole, as you call it, my cousin will resume her ordinary -pursuits, as if nothing had occurred to disturb them." - -Desultory conversation, the irresponsible chatter of the drawing-room -kind, was almost impossible under the circumstances. And although Miss -Keane did her best to assume a brave front, it was easy to see that -she was inwardly quivering. At every roar of the guns, she shivered all -over, and her cheek alternately flushed and then grew deadly pale with -her inward terror. - -"Poor child," whispered Spencer to his companion; "she must be a bundle -of nerves. Every second, she is experiencing the pangs of death in -anticipation. By the way, the gallant Desmond doesn't seem to have -troubled himself much about her. If I hadn't taken her forcibly away, I -believe she would be rooted to that chair now." - -Esmond shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, a chap like Desmond doesn't -know the meaning of fear, and he can't understand the sensation in -others. The other woman took possession of him, and dragged him away. -No doubt, he thought she was following. Mrs. L'Estrange, so far as I can -judge, would never think of anything but number one." - -And as Spencer's glance stole to the fair face, he felt a strange -feeling of pity for her. The poignant happenings of the last few moments -had revealed to him her loneliness, the tragedy of her dependence upon -others. In a supreme moment of peril, she, who ought to have lovers -and friends by the score, was left by herself, and thrown upon the -compassion of a stranger. - -An anxious half-hour passed, and then messengers came down with -tidings of a reassuring nature. The raiders had been driven off, after -inflicting considerable damage. Gay London was free to pursue its -natural course of pleasure. - -At once the tension was relaxed. Drooping forms resumed an erect -carriage, the roses bloomed again in the pale cheeks of the women. There -was a flutter, a stir. They all moved away from the refuge which had -been so welcome, and now had become unbearable. - -In the hall they encountered the Colonel, cool and collected, as if he -were on parade, Mrs. L'Estrange fluttering and full of protestations. - -"Oh, my poor Stella! I have been distracted about you. Why did you not -follow us? I thought you were close behind us all the time, till we got -to one of these abominable cellars, and looked back to find you were -missing." - -The Colonel pulled at his moustache a little nervously. - -"I shall never forgive myself, Miss Keane, not to have assured myself -you were with us at the start. I would have come back to search for you, -but Mrs. L'Estrange was in such a nervous state I could not leave her." - -Miss Keane answered him very coldly, and to her cousin she did not -vouchsafe any reply. - -"Please do not apologise. It was a question of _sauve qui peut_. -Fortunately, I found some kind friends who took compassion on a forlorn -damsel, shaking and terror-stricken." She turned to Mrs. L'Estrange. -"Mr. Esmond is, of course, an old friend. But you do not know Mr. -Spencer who got to me first." - -Mrs. L'Estrange was quite equal to the occasion; she extended her -perfectly-gloved hand with an air of effusive cordiality. - -"A thousand thanks to you both. My darling Stella was fortunate in -finding such protectors. We are both terrible cowards, I don't know -which is the greater." - -"I, without question," flashed out Miss Keane. "Otherwise I should have -had the sense to scurry away like yourself. We were both frightened -rabbits, but you could run to a place of safety while I stood -paralysed." - -Mrs. L'Estrange turned away the awkward thrust with a charming smile. -"I have made up my mind to one thing," she remarked with an air of -conviction. "Never, so long as the War lasts, will I dine out of my own -home. This night's experience has taught me a lesson. I don't want a -second one." - -At this juncture, Tommy Esmond interposed. "I was going to bring my -friend Spencer round to you to-night. But I suppose you feel a bit too -shattered, eh? You would like to get home and rest." - -"Oh dear, no!" replied the lady vivaciously. "I never alter my habits -for anything or anybody. Let us all go along at once. I will go with -Colonel Desmond. You and Mr. Spencer can continue your charge of -Stella." - -But Guy had a small duty to perform. "I think if you will excuse me, -I will join you a little later. I want to go round to inquire after my -uncle and cousin. He is a very old man, and I should like to know he is -quite safe." - -So it was arranged. The others drove off to Mrs. L'Estrange's flat, and -Spencer, finding he would have some time to wait for a taxi, walked to -Carlton House Terrace, where Lord South-leigh had his town house. - -The footman who opened the door informed him that his lordship and Lady -Nina were still in the dining-room with a small party. The earl had -taken it all very calmly, and his daughter, who, unlike poor Stella -Keane, was a young woman of remarkable courage, had not been disturbed -at all. - -"Are they alone, Robert?" - -"No, sir, two old friends of his lordship's came to dinner to-night and -are still with them. But, of course, they will be glad to see you." - -However, his duty being performed, and learning that all was -satisfactory, Spencer thought he might as well get along to the flat. -He had been strangely attracted by the beautiful girl, whom even her -obvious terror and lack of self-control could not deprive of her charm. - -"No, I won't come in. Tell them I called round to make sure they were -all safe. And say to her ladyship I will look in to-morrow afternoon -about tea-time." - -He went into his club for a few moments to see if there were any -letters, and half an hour later was at Mrs. L'Estrange's door. - -She occupied the first floor of an imposing block of flats, recently -erected in one of the semi-fashionable quarters of London. She might not -be in very affluent circumstances, as Esmond had hinted, but she would -have to pay a very handsome rent for her abode. - -The door was opened by a decorous-looking butler, with the air of one -who had served in good families. A man passed out as Spencer entered. He -was a good-looking young fellow of about twenty-five, in khaki. Spencer -knew him well by sight as the eldest son and heir of a rich brewer. - -His face did not wear a very happy expression. It did not require a -Sherlock Holmes to surmise that his visit had been an expensive one, and -that he was hurrying away to avoid further temptation. - -In the centre of a rather spacious hall, Stella Keane and Tommy Esmond -stood chatting. - -She greeted the newcomer with a bright and friendly smile. She no longer -looked pale, in fact he thought there was a slight suspicion of rouge -on the fair cheeks. She was too goodlooking to need the aid of art, but -perhaps she wanted to conceal the ravages inflicted on her beauty by -that terrible time at the "Excelsior." - -"You are not very long after us. I conclude you found your friends were -quite safe." - -She had gathered from the garrulous Tommy what she had not known before, -that Spencer was next in succession to the earldom, also that Lord -Southleigh had a very pretty daughter, who was an accomplished young -sportswoman, a daring rider to hounds, an adept at golf, fishing, and -other pastimes of a strenuous nature. - -She had pricked up her ears at mention of the cousin. Artfully she -pumped Tommy as to whether there was any tender feeling between the -relatives. - -But Tommy could give no information on this point. Spencer was a very -reticent man about his private affairs, he explained. Personally, he -should not consider him particularly susceptible to female influence. -But he had heard that the old earl, who had a shockingly weak heart, and -was likely to go off at any moment, would have viewed a marriage between -the cousins with favour. - -She mused over his words. He did not think him particularly susceptible -to female influence. And yet she was sure there was admiration, -open, undisguised admiration, in the glances he had bestowed upon her -to-night. He was evidently not deeply in love with his pretty sporting -cousin, or she would have been Mrs. Guy Spencer before now, assuming, of -course, that she was ready to obey her father's wishes. - -It was after a short silence that Miss Keane put a somewhat abrupt -question to him: "Are you fond of play, Mr. Spencer? Everybody is who -comes here." - -"Not really. I am a very lukewarm gambler. I don't mind a little flutter -now and then, as a diversion. I always enjoy a small gamble at Monte -Carlo, for example, but I never get carried away. When I have lost -enough, I stop. Nothing could induce me to stake another _sou_." - -"Can you stop as easily when you are winning? That, I fancy, is where -the selfcontrol comes in. But I think I am rather glad you are not one -of the infatuated ones. I was brought up in an atmosphere of gambling." - -There was a pathetic shadow in the beautiful brown eyes as she spoke. -Spencer's interest in her, a girl he had only known for a couple of -hours, quickened. The glance he turned on her was full of sympathy, -although he did not utter a word. It said as plainly as if he had -spoken: "Tell me more about yourself, you will find an attentive -listener." - -"My father and mother were both desperate gamblers. They staked and lost -everything they had at cards, on the race-course, at Monte Carlo. My -poor cousin, Mrs. L'Estrange, has the same fever in her veins." - -Now that he had invited her confidence, he was a little embarrassed -by it. He did not know her well enough to condole with her. By way of -relieving the tension, he uttered a few trite remarks on the subject of -gambling generally. - -"Very sad when people are bitten by it to that extent. In my small -experience, and I am only speaking of cards, I have found that, at the -end of twelve months, you leave off pretty well where you started, good -players or bad. You lose a hundred this week, you win a hundred the -next, and so on, and so forth. If you are a good player, you get bad -cards; if a duffer, you get good cards. And so the bad player has a -pretty even chance with his more skilful opponent." - -Miss Keane threw aside her momentary sadness, and laughed at his -scientific exposition. - -"You have evidently thought it all out," she said brightly. "But please -don't inflict these cheerful theories on my cousin. She is a most tragic -being when she loses. She thinks herself, and I believe is, one of the -most scientific bridge-players in England, and she cannot be brought to -understand why the duffers should have a look in." - -At this juncture Tommy Esmond interposed. It may have occurred to him -that they were wasting precious time. They had come here for the special -purpose of gambling. - -"What do you say to joining the others? We are in the very temple of -gambling, and I know my young friend would like a little flutter." - -"Certainly. When I last peeped in, Amy looked the spirit of despair. I -think she must have been losing heavily." - -She turned to lead the way, but at that instant the door-bell rang, and -she halted, in readiness to greet the visitor, whoever it might be; and -there entered a florid-looking, stout man, who advanced towards her with -effusion, and both hands outstretched. - -"My dear Stella, I have been thinking of you ever since the raid began; -I know how terribly you suffer when they are on. And I knew you were -dining out to-night. I am rejoiced to see you safe and sound. I came -round here the moment I could get away." - -Miss Keane flushed slightly as he took her hands and wrung them -impressively to show his gratitude at her escape from peril. Tommy -Esmond had given him a cool nod. But she felt Spencer's calm, critical -gaze upon this ebullient expression of young English manhood. - -It was not so much what he said, as his manner of saying it. Bounder was -written all over him, in his appearance, his manners, his gestures. - -She answered him very briefly, almost curtly, as if she were -administering a cold douche. Then the flush deepened as she turned to -Spencer. - -"May I introduce my cousin, Mr. Dutton?" - -The florid man bowed with an exaggerated air of cordiality. Spencer, -who had taken a violent dislike to him from the first second he saw -him, acknowledged the salutation with chilling gravity; and Stella Keane -could almost read his thoughts, as his gaze travelled from one to the -other. - -How could this imperial-looking girl have such an unmitigated bounder -for a relative? What was the mystery about her that could make a -creature like this claim kinship with her? - - - - -CHAPTER X - -|Mrs. L'Estrange was evidently a great believer in light: the electric -bulbs glowed softly, but brilliantly, over the two rooms devoted to the -service of the card-players. - -On the sideboards were arranged decanters of whisky, and soda-water in -bottles and syphons. Whether he lost or won, the gambler, triumphant or -despairing, could quaff to his success, or solace his despair. - -The elderly, youthfully-dressed woman advanced towards the new visitors, -with a beaming expression of countenance. - -"Mr. Spencer, you will join us. What is your favourite game?" - -"Bridge," said Spencer, shortly. He was already a bit in love with -Stella Keane, but he was by no means favourably inclined to her gushing, -elderly cousin. - -He soon formed a party of four, and became absorbed, for the moment, -in the game. Tommy Esmond was playing the same game, at a table -some distance from him. Tommy was not supposed to be wealthy, but he -evidently had money enough to indulge in a quiet gamble now and then. - -He remembered every incident of that night. His partner was a -subordinate member of the Government, and a good sound player, lacking -a little perhaps in the qualities of initiative and rapid decision. -His opponents were a young man in the Foreign Office, and a slender, -hawk-nosed young woman of about thirty. - -All through he held abominable cards, but, truth to tell, he was not -very interested in the game. Whether he won or lost a hundred pounds did -not interest him very greatly. - -But what did interest him, to every fibre of his being, was that Stella -Keane hovered about his table. His eyes continually sought hers, and she -did not seem to avoid his glance. At times he was sure he could detect -a slight smile of intimacy. After all, had he not rescued her, half dead -with fright, in the dining-room of the "Excelsior"? - -Once she bent over him and whispered, her cool, fragrant breath fanning -his cheek: "You are having shocking bad luck. You haven't held a single -decent card." - -He whispered back: "What did I tell you a little time ago? I flatter -myself I am a fairly good bridge-player, but what could one do with -those cards of mine?" - -She fluttered away, with still the shadow of that intimate smile upon -her beautiful mouth, the smile that seemed to say they had only known -each other for a few hours, under romantic and dramatic circumstances, -but there was between them an affinity of spirit. - -He played on steadily for over an hour, and then a halt was cried. The -young gentleman from the Foreign Office and the hawknosed young woman -had scored. Guy Spencer rose from the table, the poorer by a hundred -and fifty pounds. He wrote his cheque with a light heart. A hundred and -fifty pounds was not a great price to pay for the introduction to Stella -Keane. - -Mrs. L'Estrange came impressively towards him. - -"Oh, Mr. Spencer, I hope you have not lost. If so, I fear you will never -come near me again." His glance roved in the direction of Stella, -talking, as it appeared earnestly, to that bounder of a cousin. There -came a steely look into his clear, resolute eyes. - -"If you will allow me, I shall be delighted to come here often to see -you and Miss Keane. I suppose I had better pick up my old friend Tommy -Esmond, if he is not too engrossed." But when he approached Esmond, that -little rotund gentleman waved him away, in most genial fashion. - -"Run away, dear boy. It is Eclipse first, and the rest nowhere. I am -winning hands down." Certainly he bore the mien of a conqueror. And -there, behind his chair, stood Stella Keane. - -She welcomed Spencer with that faint, intimate smile which had already -stirred his pulses. - -"I fear I brought you bad luck," she said, in her low, caressing voice. -"But to Mr. Esmond I have been the harbinger of good fortune. Are you -really going?" - -"I always go when I have won enough, or lost enough. You remember I gave -you a little homily on gambling generally, not so long ago." - -She took her hand off Esmond's chair. "Well, I will leave my good -influence behind, and look after the parting guest." - -She walked leisurely with him in the direction of the hall. It was -deserted, but the light was brilliant, as it was in every other corner -of the flat. - -She held out her hand impulsively. "Mr. Spencer, I have not thanked you -properly for your kindness to me to-night. Terror-stricken, paralysed -with fear, I should have been clinging to that chair now, if you had not -rescued me in time. How can I thank you?" - -Spencer laughed lightly. "One would think from your excessive gratitude -that you had not experienced a great deal of kindness in your life. And -yet that would be impossible." - -She flushed a little; his gaze was perhaps more full of admiration, of -frank and open compliment than could be justified by the briefness -of their acquaintance. And yet it only expressed what he was inwardly -thinking. - -Here was a girl who had only to look at her mirror to learn she was -endowed with singular beauty. She must also know that she combined with -her more than ordinary fairness an unusual charm of manner. - -How had it come about that one with such striking qualifications should -exhibit a certain underlying sadness, as if the world had already proved -a very disappointing place? Youth and good looks usually secure for -their owner a good time. Girls with half her attractions could find -plenty of admirers. What evil fate dogged her that she had to regard -a perfectly common act of kindness as something to be exceptionally -grateful for? - -"I have never been petted nor spoiled, even as a child," she answered -gravely. "My father and mother were ignorant of the duties, as they were -of the instincts, of parenthood. And since my poor pretence of a home -was broken up, I have been a derelict and a wanderer, sometimes a -tolerated guest, rarely, I fear, a very welcome one in the houses of -other people." - -"But you are happy here, surely?" he suggested. After saying so much, -she could hardly regard the question as an impertinent one. He longed to -hear her history. Well, if he came and cultivated her, and let her see -how sympathetic he could be, one day she would tell him. - -She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference. - -"My cousin is peculiar in many ways, and her devotion to play is an -obsession. We have very little in common; still, it would not be fair to -say she was difficult to get on with. I have been with her now for more -than eighteen months, and although we have often held totally different -opinions, I cannot remember that we have ever had a real quarrel. And, -anyway, it is a home and a shelter, and that is something." - -Not much enthusiasm here, certainly. Mrs. L'Estrange had been dismissed -with a very negative kind of faint praise. Her excellence seemed to lie -rather in the absence of bad qualities than the possession of good ones. - -And yet, he could not bring himself to believe that Miss Keane was an -ill-natured girl, or of an unresponsive temperament. He had to admit -that his impressions of his hostess were not too favourable. - -She was outwardly genial, and at times gushing. Yet he fancied he could -read behind this plausible exterior the signs of a hard, worldly nature. -There was no softness in her glance, no tenderness in her rather hard, -staccato tones. - -A girl with those glorious eyes, and mobile face, with the delicate -complexion that flushed and paled by turns, must surely be sweet and -sympathetic, and responsive to affection. How her voice had thrilled -with emotion when she thanked him. If she was disappointed in her -cousin, it must be the fault of the elder woman, who could not give what -was demanded by the younger and more ardent temperament. - -He would have lingered longer, trying to pierce the riddle from these -disjointed remarks, but they were interrupted by Tommy Esmond, who came -bustling into the hall, flushed with victory. - -"Never had such luck in my life. Just wiped the floor with them," he -explained excitedly. "You left your good influence behind, Miss Keane. A -few minutes sufficed for victory." - -"I am very glad, but I think my powers for good must be very limited, -for I brought bad luck to your friend," was her smiling rejoinder. - -He turned briskly to the young man. "It is a perfect night, Spencer. -Shall we walk down to the Club to get a breath of fresh air, and turn in -there for a quiet smoke?" - -Spencer nodded assent, and held out his hand to Miss Keane. - -"Well, good-bye for the present." - -"And I hope you will come and see us again soon. Don't wait for Mr. -Esmond to bring you: after our thrilling experiences of tonight, we are -more than ordinary acquaintances. We are at home nearly every night, -if you want to gamble. And, if you would like a little rational chat -instead, come in one afternoon to tea." - -"Thanks, I will. My card-playing fit has passed for a little time. Once -again, goodbye." - -And, as soon as they were in the street, Esmond burst in with the -question he was longing to ask. - -"Well, what do you think of her? Did I exaggerate?" - -"Not in the least," answered Spencer, speaking less seriously than he -felt, he did not quite know for what reason, unless it was that with a -man of his friend's calibre, he always had a tendency to discuss things -lightly. "No, I don't think you have exaggerated a bit this time; so -many of your swans have been geese, but this is a real swan, at last. -She is very lovely; even in her terror she looked beautiful, and she has -a peculiar, elusive charm. She makes you want to know more of her, and -penetrate the mystery which seems to hover around her.59 - -"I can't say I see any mystery, myself." Esmond spoke rather sharply, -for such a good-natured little man. - -"Perhaps it is too strong a word. But I take it, you know something -of the menage, and can enlighten me on one point. What is her position -there: paid companion, a passing guest, or does she share the flat with -her cousin on some sort of terms?" - -It was a little time before Esmond answered. "I have never rightly got -at that myself. Sometimes I have thought one thing, sometimes another. -But I am pretty sure she is poor: in fact, she has admitted as much." - -"Poverty is relative after all, and it depends on how she was brought -up. She seems to dress well, and that cannot be done without money." - -Yes, Esmond admitted that she was turned out well. But he either could -not, or would not express any positive opinion upon the delicate subject -of Miss Keane's finances. - -"Does she ever play? She didn't touch a card while we were there, only -flitted about from table to table." - -No, Esmond had never seen her play since he had frequented the house. It -was clear, therefore, she did not make any pocket-money out of gambling. -He had to admit that she seemed to act as deputy hostess, and, he -believed, wrote most of her cousin's notes; in other words, made herself -useful. - -All this information, such as it was, he imparted, as it seemed to -Spencer, with some reluctance. Perhaps his keen admiration prompted him -to hide anything that served to show her in a dependent position. And -Spencer desisted from any further crossexamination on this head. - -On one point, however, he was determined to elicit a positive expression -of opinion from the cautious little man. - -"What is the mystery of the bounder cousin? You must admit he has cad -stamped all over him, his speech, his person, his gestures." - -Tommy could establish no defence for the gentleman in question. "No, he -is past criticism, I allow. The result of some _mesalliance_, I suppose; -his mother a very common person doubtless. But then, many highly -respectable people have skeletons like that in their cupboards." - -"The mystery is that he finds his way, cousin as he may be, into any -decent house. Mrs. L'Estrange we know to be a woman of good family. You -would think she would lock and bolt the door against a creature like -that. What is he supposed to be, if he has any profession beyond that of -his intense bounderism?" - -"Something in the City, I am told," replied Esmond shortly. "Something -connected with finance; stockbroker or something." - -"It must be a shady kind of finance, if he has anything to do with it," -growled the young man. "To think of his claiming relationship with that -exquisite girl." - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -|It would be idle to assume that a man of Guy Spencer's natural -advantages had reached the age of thirty without experiencing a few -affairs of the heart. But he had never been deeply touched, and -his friend Tommy Esmond was right when he described him as not very -susceptible to feminine influence. - -The one feeling which had lasted for some years, was a pronounced -affection for his cousin Nina. He felt as much at home with her as he -would have done with a favourite sister, had he possessed one. But the -regard had a warmth in it that is lacking in fraternal relations. - -He knew that Lady Nina was not indifferent to him, that she allowed him -to assume a certain air of proprietorship in the disposal of dances, in -the claim to her society when he was disposed to enjoy it. He knew also -that it was a match which would be warmly approved of by his invalid -uncle. - -Without being guilty of undue vanity, he felt pretty certain that if he -proposed he would be accepted. And once or twice he had been very near -to taking the decisive step. He never could quite understand what it was -that made him hesitate. - -The fact of his hesitation proved to himself, as well as to the young -lady concerned, that much as he might like his cousin, he was certainly -far from being deeply in love with her. - -She was a pretty, winsome girl, possessing an upright, straightforward -nature, and quite attractive in a simple, frank fashion. There was -nothing subtle or mysterious about her, you could read her like an open -book. She was a good daughter, she was the type of girl who could not -help making a good wife. - -Some day, no doubt, he would put the fateful question, and by her -acceptance be made, in conventional parlance, the happiest of men. But -although he would know he had chosen very wisely, and look forward to -a placid kind of happiness, he was doubtful if Nina's smiles and kisses -would ever thrill him, if with her he would ever learn the meaning of -real love. - -He was not by any means sure that he was capable of very strong -attachment. He had indulged in a few fancies, but they had only -exercised a very small portion of his thoughts. Up to the present, he -had certainly not experienced the wild ecstasies, the mingled joy and -pain of the true lover. - -For the first time in his life, he had been seriously perturbed by the -advent of Stella Keane. He had not fashioned in his imagination any -particular ideal, any special type of woman who would make to him an -irresistible appeal. But, if she had been Lady Nina, if he had met her -in his own world, he would have owned at once this was the girl for whom -he had been waiting. - -Her image pursued him persistently in his waking and his leisure hours. -He could recall every word she had spoken during the short time they -had spent together. He could see her a dozen times a day standing in the -"Excelsior" dining-room, paralysed with terror. - -He remembered the break in her voice, the mist in her beautiful eyes, -when she had thanked him. And ever and again, he longed to fathom the -mystery of her loneliness, the cause of that sadness that was always -lurking underneath. - -Was it wise to pursue the acquaintance, with the pretty certain result -of intensifying the interest he already felt in her? He had no liking -for Mrs. L'Estrange, a woman merely on the fringe of his world, or her -gambling circle. If he wanted to lose or win money, there were plenty of -other houses where he could indulge his fancy. - -And he knew nothing of Miss Keane's antecedents. The only thing he did -know was that she had a cousin who was obviously a bounder of the first -water. Tommy Esmond knew nothing about her either, or, if he did know, -would not tell. - -For three days he wavered, one moment eager to rush off to the flat, -the next determining that it would be better not to renew the brief -acquaintance. - -On the fourth day, his impulse conquered his prudence. He told himself -soothingly that his visit was due to curiosity, that he merely wanted to -penetrate the mystery of her loneliness, her unprotected position. - -The bounder cousin was coming out as he entered. Mr. Dutton nodded -affably to him with a greasy and familiar smile. Spencer acknowledged -him in the coolest fashion compatible with bare civility. Why were -there people, he wondered, whom you instinctively wanted to kick, for no -apparently sufficient reason? - -Miss Keane was alone. Mrs. L'Estrange, she explained, was in bed with -a racking headache. She had lost heavily the night before, and this was -the usual penalty she paid for losing. - -"Hardly worth the candle, is it?" he said lightly, as he took his cup of -tea from her. A slight frown crossed his brow as he observed the empty -cup of "the bounder" on the table. Did he come here often? was his -thought. Perhaps he was in love with her. But it was surely beyond the -limits of possibility that she could ever return the affection of such a -creature. - -He would see what he could get out of her. "I met your cousin as I came -in. I suppose he is a frequent visitor?" - -She did not look in the least conscious or embarrassed by the question. -"Oh yes, he comes very often. He is about the only one of my relatives -I have any acquaintance with. My father's mode of life estranged all the -others." - -Spencer thought it would have been a good thing if Mr. Dutton had been -as sensitive to the disqualifications of the late Mr. Keane as the rest -of her connections. But, of course, he could not say so. - -"He is not in the least like you." Then, after a pause, he added boldly, -and perhaps a little rudely: "I should never have dreamed you were -related." - -She quite understood what he meant, and there was a lurking humour in -her smile, as she answered: - -"Poor old George, he is a good sort, but quite a rough diamond. His -mother married a self-made man, of course, for his money. That may -account for a great deal you have noticed." - -Spencer had the grace to look confused. It was evident he had conveyed -his private impression of Mr. Dutton very distinctly to her clear young -vision. But she did not seem offended, only slightly amused, at the poor -figure cut by Cousin George in the estimation of a person in a superior -world. - -Anyway, that little mystery was explained. There was nothing unusual -in poor gentlewomen marrying self-made men, for the sake of money. The -noble family of Southleigh had many such _mesalliances_ amongst its -aristocratic records. - -But it was a relief to find Stella herself under no delusions concerning -the young man in question. He did not think it possible she could, but -as diplomatically as was possible, she admitted that Mr. Dutton was not -what is, technically called, a gentleman. - -"He is the only relative with whom I am on speaking terms," she added, -after a pause, "for reasons of which I have already given you a hint. -And I think I have grown rather to look forward to his visits." - -Her observant eyes noticed a quick stiffening in his manner. She could -guess his thoughts. How was it possible for a refined young woman to -ever look forward to the visits of a person like Mr. Dutton, cousin -though he might be? - -"You, of course, have heaps of relations; you can pick and choose," she -went on, as if eager to explain to his fastidious taste her toleration -of a man, so obviously the denizen of an inferior world. "You cannot, I -daresay, imagine the loneliness of a girl of my age, debarred, through -no fault of her own, from the society of her own kith and kin." Here -was an opportunity to engage her in personal talk. He had not hoped she -would take him into her confidence on his first visit. - -He leaned forward, and there was an eager note in his voice. "I formed -an idea of you in the first few moments of our acquaintance, that you -were not happy, that you were, in a sense, isolated, and that you had -known more of sorrow than joy in your short life." - -She mused a moment, and then answered him in grave tones: - -"You were quite right. I feel it is the impression I must convey to -either friend or stranger, an impression I shall always convey. For, if -a great and overwhelming happiness were to come to me to-morrow, I could -never forget the past years of sadness." - -"But, surely, you must have some happy memories? There were gleams of -brightness in your childhood?" - -"No," she said, and there was a fierce vehemence in her voice. "They -were the most miserable--an indifferent mother, a careless father, a -roof and a shelter, food and clothing sufficient, if not in abundance, -but no home, as it is understood by more fortunate children." - -"And when that home, or the wretched pretence of it, was broken up, -you were thrown upon the mercy of the world," he questioned, "with no -kindred, no friends to stretch out a helping hand?" - -"Our relatives had long before ceased to take any interest in the -daughter of a ruined gambler. I was thrown, in a certain sense, on the -mercy of the world. But for a small pittance, which my father could not -deprive me of, I should have starved, for he left nothing behind him but -debts." - -She was not, then, absolutely penniless. Something had been saved from -the wreck. He wondered if Esmond knew this. And yet, if she told a -comparative stranger this at their first real interview, she must have -told him, who seemed to be on the footing of a friend of the house. - -"I had no real friends," she went on; "but in the course of a wandering -life--when my father owed too much in one place he removed to another--I -had picked up a few acquaintances. With these I made a home, on and off, -for longer or shorter periods." - -"And you have come to anchor here with Mrs. L'Estrange, who is your -cousin, one of the few relatives who did not visit the sins of the -fathers on the children." - -Her voice was a little scornful. "The cousinship is a very distant one. -And, as she is an inveterate gambler herself, but more lucky than my -father, she could hardly look upon gambling in another as a deadly sin." -He nodded his head in agreement. He did not want to talk himself, -for fear he should interrupt the flow of her reminiscences; she was -evidently in a confidential mood this afternoon. - -"I saw her a few times when quite a child, and then she vanished like -the others. A couple of years ago, we met in Devonshire at the house of -a mutual acquaintance. She seemed to take a fancy to me. In the end, she -proposed that I should, for the present, make my home with her. She has -only one interest in life, _play_. She is a very lazy woman. She hates -writing the briefest note, and housekeeping is abhorrent to her. I -attend to her correspondence, I order the dinner and look after the -servants. I am not exactly eating the bread of charity," she concluded -with a little mirthless laugh, "because I give some work in exchange for -my food. My own little pittance provides me with clothes." - -He wondered what the little pittance represented in annual hard cash. -She was dressed quietly but in good taste, and he was judge enough of -woman's apparel to know that the material of her dress was expensive. On -her slender fingers glittered a few valuable rings, heirlooms probably -saved from the clutches of the gambling father. She did not convey the -impression of poverty, but perhaps she was clever, and knew how to make -the best of a small income. - -There was a long silence, and it almost seemed as if she had forgotten -his presence. For she sat with a musing look in her beautiful eyes, -her thoughts evidently in the past, conjuring up Heaven knows how many -painful memories. - -Then she came back to herself, and turned to him with an apologetic -smile. "I am afraid I have bored you to tears with my stupid personal -history, but I will finish by telling you one little thing that may -amuse you." - -He protested, of course, that he had not been in the least bored, only -too painfully interested. - -"Well, I am not a person easily crushed, and although a physical coward -and frightened of raids and thunderstorms, I am not a moral one. When -I began to review my position, I tried to hit upon some way of making -money." - -Was she fond of money, he wondered? Well, perhaps, like most women, she -wanted money to buy herself pretty things. There was nothing unusual in -that. - -"When I was a schoolgirl, I was supposed to show some artistic talent; I -got several prizes. So I set to work and painted some half-a-dozen small -things, in what I conceived to be a popular style, and took them -round to as many dealers. In a week my hopes were shattered. One -straightforward creature told me frankly that they just attained the -school-girl level of excellence, but that I should never become an -artist. It was not in me." - -"A crushing blow, indeed," said Spencer sympathetically. - -"I then turned to writing. Here, at any rate, was a profession that -required no previous painful training, only powers of observation, some -imagination, and a certain fluency of expression. I wrote some short -stories which I thought good, which I still think good. History repeated -itself. I sent them to a dozen editors, one after another. In every -case, they were declined with thanks." - -"I daresay they were quite good, and they were not taken because you -didn't happen to be in the ring," was Spencer's consoling comment. - -"Well," she exclaimed brightly, "there is an end of my reminiscences for -to-day. Let us talk of anything and everything else. Have you seen Mr. -Esmond lately? He has not been near us since the night he came with -you." - -Shortly afterwards he took his leave, he had stayed unconsciously long -as it was. - -"I shall come again soon, if I may, to listen to some more -reminiscences," he said, as he shook hands. And she had given him -permission, with the brightest of smiles. - -He had not learned half as much as he wanted, but he had gathered -something. The bounder cousin was the son of a self-made man, a -_parvenu_. And Stella Keane was not absolutely penniless, she had enough -money to buy herself clothes. Did Tommy Esmond know as much as this? And -if he did, why had he not said so? - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -|Although unsuspicious by nature, Guy Spencer had mixed much in the -world and seen a good deal of life. Attracted as he was by the charming -Stella, there was a something about the atmosphere of that flat in -Elsinore Gardens which created an unfavourable impression. - -Of Mrs. L'Estrange's antecedents there was no question. She was a woman -of good family, she could produce chapter and verse for her ancestors. -And yet, why was she not in a better environment? - -Clearly, she was on the downward slope. But was there anything -remarkable in that? Heaps of members of aristocratic families were -in the same sort of predicament, from various causes, through certain -circumstances. - -Had he not received a letter a few days ago from the daughter of a -well-known earl, imploring him for a loan of ten pounds, for the sake of -old friendship? - -The writer was some twenty years his senior, and she had tipped him when -he was at Eton. She now dated her letter from a suburb in the extreme -west of Kensington. If she, with all her advantages of birth and -connection, had fallen by the wayside, why not a comparatively obscure -person like Mrs. L'Estrange? - -It was very easy to see it. Mrs. L'Estrange was of a Bohemian -temperament, and probably a great spendthrift. She had made considerable -inroads into whatever fortune she originally possessed, and had -developed into an adept card-player, with a view to supplementing the -little income that was left to her. - -And Stella Keane, that beautiful, sad girl, with the tragic history of -worthless parents behind her, was the victim of fate. She was not happy -in her cousin's home, amidst this gambling, card-playing set. She, at -least, was pure, whoever else might be defiled. On that he would stake -his existence. - -For a few days he thought a great deal about the subject, and during -those few days he kept away from Elsinore Gardens and denied himself -the pleasure of listening to a further instalment of Miss Keane's -reminiscences of her unhappy history. - -If he were going to fall in love, he told himself sternly, he would -fall in love with a woman of his own world, not with a girl, however -beautiful and interesting she might be, who was only a hanger-on of a -woman well-born, but evidently _declassee_, a woman no longer moving in -the sphere to which she had been accustomed. In these reflections, he -showed sound sense. - -But for a certain event that happened in the course of the next few -days, he might have adhered to his good resolutions and have finally -dismissed Miss Keane from his serious thoughts. And, in that case, this -story would not have been written. - -And then the event happened. Returning home to his rooms one night, -about twelve o'clock, his man told him that Mr. Esmond was waiting for -him in the sitting-room. - -He found the little rotund man sitting in an easy-chair, white-faced, -the marks of agitation written all over his countenance. - -Wondering at this unusual spectacle--Tommy was frequently fussy, but -always self-contained--Spencer advanced, and held out his hand. - -"What's up, Tommy? You're a late visitor, but always welcome." He -pointed to the decanters standing on the sideboard. "I hope you have -helped yourself?" - -To Spencer's great surprise, the little man did not take the proffered -hand. He spoke in a hoarse, choking voice, his lips twitching. - -"I've helped myself once too often, Spencer. And I can't take the hand -of an honest man, for reasons. You've got it at once." - -Spencer had average brains, but he was not very quick to realise the -meaning of unexpected situations. At first, he thought the little man -had been drinking. - -"Sit down, Tommy, and get it off your chest. What in the name of wonder -is the matter?" he said kindly. He was rather fond of Tommy in a casual -sort of way. - -Esmond did not sit down at once, but went over to the sideboard, and -mixed himself a stiff tumbler of whisky-and-soda. He gulped it down at a -draught, and then took an armchair. - -"You won't begrudge me that, I know," he said, speaking in the same -strained, hoarse voice. "It's the last drink I'll have in your rooms, -the last drink in any house in England, I should say. I'm done for, old -man, tomorrow I clear out, eat my heart away in some beastly foreign -hole." - -No, Spencer's first surmise had been incorrect. The man was not drunk, -not even elevated. His face was chalk-white, and he was trembling all -over as if he had been stricken with palsy. But he was perfectly sober. - -Spencer took a chair himself, and spoke a little sternly. "Pull yourself -together, old man, and speak out. At first I thought you had had a -drop too much. But I see that's not the case. Out with it. You've been -waiting some time, my man informs me. You want to tell me something. -Tell it." - -Tommy Esmond moistened his dry lips with his tongue, and spoke. - -"I don't quite know what instinct prompted me to come to you. We haven't -known each other so very intimately, after all, but I always felt you -were a bit more of a Christian than the other chaps I have known, less -of a Pharisee--that you would be more likely to find excuses for a poor -devil who had yielded to temptation." - -"Do get on," said Spencer a little impatiently. He did not at all like -the turn the conversation was taking. - -Tommy spoke brokenly, he could not put his words together very -coherently, it appeared. But his halting utterance was simply due to -emotion. - -"I was at Elsinore Gardens to-night, playing cards. You know Elsinore -Gardens, Mrs. L'Estrange's flat?" - -He was quite sober, but his agitation made him wander a bit, or he would -not have put the question. - -"Of course I know Mrs. L'Estrange's flat. It was you who took me there," -said Spencer. - -"Yes, we went there on the night of the raid, but I was not playing at -your table. I remember you lost, and I won. Well, somebody has to lose, -and somebody else has to win." - -Spencer made no comment on this obvious truism. Tommy Esmond again -moistened his dry lips with his tongue. He was a long time in coming to -the point, but he came to it at last. - -"Well, old man, I was playing with an old pal of mine, with whom I have -been in business for years. We had a nice code of signals arranged. I -was as cautious as I could be, but my partner had been dining out, and -he was a bit indiscreet. There were three or four men watching us, they -caught us both, although, as I tell you, I was cautious. But I made one -slip, and they were down on me like a knife. You don't know my partner. -It is the end of him. But it is the end of Tommy Esmond also." - -To say that Spencer was disgusted would be to convey a faint idea of his -feelings. And yet, as he looked at the huddled, trembling form in the -chair, his sentiment was rather one of compassion than loathing. -what was there behind? what tragedy of circumstance had driven this -apparently lighthearted, butterfly little creature to such crooked ways? - -"You're an old hand, then? It's not the first time you've cheated?" - -Tommy Esmond smiled wanly. He did not answer the question at once. - -"What age do you guess me, Spencer?" - -"At a casual glance, a little over fifty. You may be older. Looking at -you closely, you do seem a bit made up, dye and all that sort of thing." - -"My dear sir, I am old enough to be your father. I shall never see sixty -again." - -"And when did you take to this game?" Esmond thought a little before he -replied, he was evidently counting the years. - -"When I was twenty-two I got an _entree_ into society. I was then -enjoying an income of two pounds a week, I was a clerk in an insurance -office. At twenty-four I left the insurance business and started -cheating for a living." - -Spencer uttered a horrified ejaculation. He had never come across -anything quite like this, at any rate, in actual experience. - -"Would you like to know something of my history, or would you like to -kick me out at once, and have done with it?" asked Esmond quietly. - -But there were still some remnants of compassion in Spencer. And he was -also a little curious. He was dealing, after all, with a human document. -Tommy's revelations would add to his experience of life. - -"Tell me all you would like to say," he said. - -"It will be a relief to unbosom myself, after the years I have led this -life," was Esmond's answer. "When I left Elsinore Gardens with my life -in ruins, I felt I could have shrieked it all out to the policeman -standing at the corner. I came on here, because I thought you would -listen to me, because I felt sure you were not a Pharisee." - -Spencer motioned him to the sideboard. "Mix yourself another stiff peg, -and steady your nerves. Then tell me as much as you like." - -Esmond went over and helped himself. After a few seconds the ague-like -trembling ceased, and he was able to speak in a fairly steady voice. - -"My father was a solicitor in a small way of business in an obscure town -in the west of England. There were three children--an elder brother, -myself, and a sister. My elder brother succeeded to the practice and is -still in the same place, making both ends meet on a microscopic income. -My sister is dead. - -"My father was a God-fearing, deeply religious man, and did more -than his duty by his family. He scraped and pinched to give us a good -education, that being the only capital he could leave us. I was placed -in an insurance office, the head of which was a distant connection of my -mother's. - -"If I had chosen to be content with my lot I daresay in time I might -have done fairly well, as I had more than average abilities, and gave -complete satisfaction in the performance of my duties. - -"Unfortunately, I ran across, by the purest accident, a young man some -couple of years my senior. His father, a man of very good family, had -died a short time previously and left him a very decent income of about -two thousand a year. He had been at a private school with me when we -were boys. - -"This young man took a violent fancy to me, I was slim and not bad -looking in those days. He had the _entree_ to some of the best houses -in London through his aristocratic connections. He took me with him -everywhere, as his bosom friend. I had certain social instincts, derived -from Heaven knows where, and I soon found my feet. In twelve months I -was able to run alone, sometimes I was able to get into houses where -even he could not gain a footing. He laughingly declared that I had -beaten him in the social race, but he was a good-natured fellow, without -a particle of envy or meanness in his nature, and he was rather proud -than otherwise that the pupil had outstripped the master." - -He paused for a moment. It was evident, that having kept silence for so -many years, it was an enormous relief to unbosom himself. - -In spite of his disgust, Spencer could not but feel interested in this -bit of life-history. He had often felt curious as to Tommy Esmond's -past, and now that curiosity was going to be satisfied. He understood -now why the little man had never made any but the most distant allusions -to his home or his relatives. - -"The life suited me down to the ground, but there was always the -terrible problem of ways and means, good clothes, travelling, expensive -flowers, etc., etc. I had got to three pounds a week, but that doesn't -go far in the circles to which I had been transplanted. It began to dawn -upon me that, delightful as the life was, I was playing the fool, and -neglecting the substance for the shadow. People asked me to their big -parties, often to their dinners and to week-ends, but there was no -money in it. In fact, I was getting out of my depth. I had already been -obliged to borrow small sums from money-lenders to cover my expenses. - -"Bitterly I made up my mind that sooner or later I must cut it, and take -life seriously, like the poor man I was. I belonged to a good club -where I had all my letters addressed. I lodged in a little street in -Bloomsbury, in cheap apartments. My friend alone knew this address. - -"He would have helped me to a considerable extent, but, strange to say, -considering what I did afterwards, I shrank from accepting actual cash -from him." - -Spencer interrupted him for a second. "You would not sponge upon your -friend, instead you took to cheating your acquaintance. I take it that -is what you are going to tell me." - -Esmond nodded. "Quite right. I had made up my mind to cut it, and -disappear from a world in which I had no right to intrude. I had even -made up my mind as to the exact date at the close of the season when -I would disappear, and return to the humdrum life from which my friend -roused me. - -"A few days before that date, something very strange happened; my life -has always been full of surprises. A few weeks before the fixed date, -I had made the acquaintance of a young nobleman, a member of one of the -best-known families in England. He was then about thirty, very handsome, -very popular with both men and women. He is dead now, but, of course, I -shall not mention his name, which would startle you if you heard it. - -"As I have said, his family was a very distinguished one, but poor for -its position. My friend, whom for the sake of convenience I will call -Lord Frederick, lived in good style, never seemed short of cash, and -paid his debts promptly. Those who knew were sure that he got little or -no help from his family, yet he betted at race-meetings, played cards -nearly every night, and lived generally the life of a man with a fair -income. - -"His own explanation was, that he had some intimate friends on the Stock -Exchange who put him on to any good thing going. In the course of the -year, according to his own account, he made a considerable sum out of -racing. - -"Lord Frederick, like my first friend, took considerable notice of me -after we had become acquainted. Several times he invited me to his club. -Afterwards he told me that he had a premonition I should be useful to -him. - -"I shall never forget that night when the deadly temptation came to me, -when I learned what manner of rascal he was. It was the close of the -season. In a very few days more I should have looked my last on this gay -and alluring existence, should have ceased to lead this double life of a -poor clerk by day, a young man of fashion by night." - -Spencer suddenly interrupted. "But was there not a great risk of -detection? were you never recognised in the City by some chance west End -acquaintance." - -"Up to then, no. Of course, I must have been found out in time, if -only from the suspicious circumstance that I could never accept any day -invitations. This was one of the reasons that weighed most strongly with -me in the resolve to give it up. I could not bear the thought that -the Tommy Esmond who bore himself so bravely in his new world, who -had managed to outlive all curiosity as to his antecedents, should -be discovered in his true colours, a poor City drudge in an insurance -office. - -"To return to my story. I had dined with Lord Frederick at the---- No, I -will not give the name of the club, one of the most exclusive in London: -it might put you on his track. He had ordered a choice dinner, and he -plied me liberally with wine. My heart was very full at the prospect of -having to say good-bye to this luxurious life, in a very few days' time. - -"After dinner we went into the smoking-room, which was nearly empty, -as most of the members had left London. There were only two other -occupants, and they were at the far end of the apartment. Practically, -we had the place to ourselves. - -"He urged me strongly to take a trip over to Paris as his guest. I -should have loved to go, but the wrench had to be made some time, it -might as well be made now. Besides, I was heavily in debt, for a poor -man, and I had not the cash to purchase the necessary outfit for such a -trip. - -"He would not accept my first refusal, but tried to persuade me into -reconsidering. When I still persisted, he bluntly asked me my reasons. - -"As I have said, I was very depressed that night at the prospect of all -I was saying goodbye to. This mood was responsible for my blurting out a -great portion of the absolute truth. - -"I explained to him that I had already accepted too much of his -hospitality, which my circumstances did not enable me to return, that I -could no longer take advantage of his generosity. - -"After this avowal, he did not speak for some little time, all the while -regarding me with an intense gaze that embarrassed me very much. - -"'Thanks for telling me the truth,' he said at length. 'Your confidence -is quite safe with me.' He added after a pause, 'So you are a poor man, -in spite of the fact that your appearance does not suggest the fact. -well, I may tell you that from the first moment I made your acquaintance -I was pretty certain you were.' - -"I told him a little more. 'I am so poor,' I said frankly, 'that I -cannot afford to keep up appearances any longer. In a few days I shall -leave a world I ought never to have entered. Anyway, it is the last time -I shall dine with you, and I don't suppose we shall ever meet again, -unless we run across each other by chance in a very different sphere.'" - -"'You have absolutely made up your mind to do this, for the reasons you -have given?' he asked presently. - -"'Absolutely,' I replied. 'I may say it is Hobson's choice. I am heavily -in debt. If I cut my wants down to next to nothing, it will take me a -year to pay off what I owe.' I laughed bitterly--'Unless I turned thief, -I could not possibly go on.' - -"'I don't want to force your confidence,' was Lord Frederick's next -remark. 'But having had a taste of this rather glittering world, I -presume you will leave it with considerable regret.' - -"'I dare not say what I feel,' I said with conviction. 'It seems to me -that in the old life to which I am returning I shall suffer the tortures -of lost souls.' - -"Then he shot at me an extraordinary question. 'I wonder whether you -would care to become a partner in my business?' - -"My heart suddenly grew light. Was there a chance that I could still -keep on, that through his assistance I could find a decently paid -occupation? After all, I only wanted a few hundreds a year more. A -bachelor can live in the best society on comparatively little, but he -must have that little, and the insurance office did not furnish it. - -"'If I were competent enough,' I faltered. - -"He smiled; I thought there was a little touch of a sneer in that smile. -'Oh, I think you would be competent enough. But I am not at all sure -that you would like the business sufficiently.' - -"'I can't say positively, of course, till I know the nature of it. But -I don't think I should be very difficult to please, nor do I want any -extravagant remuneration, just enough to keep up a decent appearance.' - -"'The share would be half, neither more nor less,' he said curtly; then -he relapsed into a long silence, as if he were thinking very hard. - -"When he spoke it was in a low, strained voice. 'Look here, Esmond, I -don't know very much of you. But I believe you to be a gentleman. The -business I am engaged in is a very peculiar one, and it is more than -probable it will not appeal to you. If you refuse, you are to give -me your word of honour that this conversation between us shall be -forgotten.' - -"I gave him more than my word, I added my solemn oath that I would never -divulge a syllable. - -"I had for some little time felt that there was a mystery about him. -I hazarded to myself that he was perhaps engaged in some spying work -repugnant to any man of fine susceptibilities but quite remunerative. - -"I was startled, and to an extent horrified, by what he told me. He -was a professional card-sharper, made his living by robbing his rich -acquaintances. He had been at the game since he was twenty-five. - -"'I do pretty well, as you can guess, by the way in which I live,' he -remarked at the conclusion of his strange confession. 'But with a smart -confederate, and I am sure you would prove one, I could quadruple my -gains. One is hampered by working alone. It's a scoundrel's business, of -course. But I can always persuade myself I am not really doing very much -harm, certainly not as much as the swindling sort of company-promoter. -I win money from rich fools, rob them, if you like; it does at least as -much good in my pockets as theirs.' - -"I suppose there was already some moral kink in me waiting to blossom -forth under proper encouragement. For though I was very much startled, I -cannot say that I was profoundly shocked, as I might have been by a less -subtle form of robbery. - -"I did not accept or refuse that night, I wanted to think. I knew it -was the turning of the ways. On the one hand well-paid roguery, with the -accompanying delights of the fashionable world, on the other the deadly, -drab life of the poor City drudge. In the morning my mind was made up. I -went into partnership with my new friend." - -"And you made a fortune, I suppose?" asked Spencer, in a very cold -voice. - -Esmond shook his head, and Spencer was not at all sure that the next -words were truthful ones. - -"No, a comfortable living, nothing more. We made a good deal, but we had -to lose a good deal, too, in order to avert suspicion." - -"Your friend is dead, you say. So you went on with it after his death?" - -"Yes, for a little time alone. Then I, too, got in a partner, the man -who was with me to-night." - -There was a long silence between the two men. Spencer broke it first. - -"And what are your plans?" he asked. - -"I shall sneak out of the country to-morrow morning and make my way to -France. I shall hide myself in some little out-of-the-way village under -an assumed name, and rust out." The little man rose and looked at his -former friend with an embarrassed air. "Well, thanks for having listened -to me so patiently. It has been a tremendous relief to me to pour it all -out." - -He did not offer his hand, for he felt certain it would not be taken. -Spencer stopped him as he was at the door. - -"You have money, I suppose, something put by out of your--your -winnings?" - -Esmond's voice was hesitating. Again it was very doubtful if he was -speaking the truth. "Hardly a _sou_ out of them. It was lightly come, -lightly go, all the time. But my father left me a little bit which will -keep me going in a cheap place." - -Spencer did not believe him. The probability was he had put away safely -a snug little nest-egg, in view of the detection which might come at any -moment of such a hazardous occupation. - -"One word before you go," said the young man finally. "Is there much -cheating going on at Elsinore Gardens?" - -Esmond turned and looked the speaker straight in the face. This time -he certainly seemed to be speaking the truth, but he might be a most -accomplished liar. - -"None at all, except when I and my partner were there. If there had -been, I should have spotted it. I'm awfully sorry for Mrs. L'Estrange, -for it having happened at her house, for I daresay people will hint -nasty things." - -"She didn't suspect anything, then?" - -"Not a bit," replied Esmond. "We didn't play there more than about twice -a week, and we never went in for high stakes. And, of course, we had to -lose pretty often, to make things look square." - -"And Miss Keane suspected nothing either." As he remembered the girl's -beautiful face, and sad history, Spencer felt almost ashamed of himself -for putting the question. - -"Bless your soul, no, a thousand times no." The little rogue seemed to -speak with unusual warmth. "Why, she loathes cards, she never can be got -to join in. She has suffered too much from gambling." - -He went out of the room slowly and into the night. Spencer half pitied -the poor devil who had made such a hash of his life through his desire -to step out of his own class. He sat down and ruminated a long time over -the strange history which had been unfolded to him. - -The next morning, the fugitive, Tommy Esmond, caught the morning train -from Charing Cross. He looked very sad and woebegone, a pitiable figure, -friendless and alone. - -But not quite friendless. A young woman closely-veiled and dressed very -plainly rose up from one of the seats as he came on the platform, and -touched him lightly on the arm. He recognised her, and glanced round -anxiously. - -"It was very dear and sweet of you to come, Stella, but very imprudent. -You might be seen by half a dozen people." - -"I know," answered Miss Keane, for the closely-veiled woman was she. "I -got your letter this morning and could not bear you should go without a -last good-bye. Well, I can see you are anxious. I will say it, and get -back." - -She lifted the veil for a second, and held up her face. The little man -kissed her hastily, and then made for his train. - -It was evident he had one friend left in the London he was flying from -as a fugitive and outlaw, one woman who pitied him. - -And, at the same time that Stella was walking swiftly from the station, -Guy Spencer was making up his mind that he would pay a visit to Elsinore -Gardens in the afternoon, to see how the land lay there. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -|About five o'clock on the afternoon of the day following Esmond's -confession, Guy Spencer rang the bell at Mrs. L'Estrange's flat in -Elsinore Gardens. - -The decorous-looking butler opened the door. He seemed to wear a sad -and chastened demeanour, as if overborne with the tragic events of the -previous night. Of course, all servants know what is going on in the -house of their employers. A scandal such as this must have quickly -penetrated to them. - -"Is Mrs. L'Estrange at home?" - -The sad-faced butler answered at once; he could tell a lie with as much -grace as anybody, but here there was no need to lie. - -"Mrs. L'Estrange is at home, sir, in a manner of speaking, but she -is very ill, as a matter of fact in bed. Of course she cannot see any -visitors." - -"Oh, I quite understand," said Spencer hastily. "Is Miss Keane in? If -so, I would like to see her for a few moments." - -The melancholy man in black opened the door a few inches. "Miss Keane is -in, sir, but I am afraid she is not very well, either. Will you kindly -step in, sir, and I will find out if she can see you?" - -It was evident that Tommy Esmond and his equally nefarious partner had -cast a gloom over the whole establishment. Spencer was ushered into the -pretty drawing-room. In a few moments, Stella Keane came in. She was -evidently under the stress of great emotion. There were dark shadows -round the eyes, as if she had passed a sleepless night. Even her perfect -mouth had a listless droop. - -But, in spite of her pallor, the dark shadows round her eyes, and that -pathetic droop, she was still very beautiful. Pathos became her. Guy -Spencer's heart gave a great leap as he saw her. There was about her an -overpowering, an irresistible fascination. - -She advanced towards him with outstretched hands. She spoke in a broken -voice, the perfectly moulded lips trembled: - -"It is so sweet of you to come. Of course you have heard? It is all over -the town by now. Oh, this thrice-accursed gambling, the love of which -induces decent men to cheat, and become outcasts from their world." - -She spoke with the deepest emotion, her bosom heaving, her voice broken -by the catchings of the breath. - -"He was such a good little man, he was always so kind to me," she went -on. "And last night those awful happenings. Branded a cheat, he and his -friend, and they could not deny it. They had to slink out. I have -hardly closed my eyes during the night, Mr. Spencer; my poor cousin is -prostrated." She added with a shudder: "My girlhood was passed amidst a -gambling set, but I never had an experience like this." - -She collected herself, and rang for tea. "You will sit down," she said. -"You can understand I should have denied myself to anybody but you, I am -so terribly upset. It is still like a nightmare." - -Spencer sat down as he was bidden. "I had a visit from Esmond last -night," he said briefly. "He came straight on from Elsinore Gardens. He -told me what had happened, he told me the whole history of the terrible -thing, how he has been making his living by cheating at cards, since he -was a young man." Miss Keane raised her hands in mute deprecation. "How -awful! That, of course, I did not know. I had a letter from him this -morning, apologising, if one can apologise for such a thing, telling me -he was going to live abroad under an assumed name. It was a very short -letter. His chief concern seemed to be that he had, incidentally, made -it unpleasant for Mrs. L'Estrange." - -"How does Mrs. L'Estrange take it?" - -Miss Keane shrugged her shoulders. "She is a little bit hysterical, you -know. One moment, she vows she will shut up the flat and go abroad, for -fear of the nasty things that people will say. The next moment, she says -that, confident in her perfect innocence, she will stay and face the -music, and give her parties as usual." - -"Has she asked your advice?" queried Spencer. - -"She has, and my advice is to go on as usual. It is not her fault that -blacklegs have crept into her circle. They creep into the best houses, -the best clubs. So long as this cursed gambling goes on, there will be -sharpers." - -"That's true," remarked Spencer, remembering a few episodes that had -occurred in his time. "And, I suppose, you will still cast in your lot -with her?" - -The look on the beautiful face grew more pathetic than ever. - -"What can I do, Mr. Spencer? I have told you my position. I wish -my cousin were a different woman altogether, I wish she were not so -infatuated with this horrible gambling. But I cannot influence her. She -is too old and set to turn over a new leaf." - -Every moment the girl's fascination took a deeper hold of him. She -was so very beautiful, so very seductive. But he still kept himself in -check. - -"Tell me what actually happened last night. How were Esmond and his -partner found out?" - -There was a little interruption by the solemn-faced butler who brought -in tea. Miss Keane busied herself amongst the cups before she replied. - -"It is, as I told you, all a nightmare to me. I was wandering aimlessly -about; as I have told you before, I never play, I loathe cards too much. -Suddenly there was a scene at the table where Mr. Esmond and his partner -were playing. Three men were standing watching the game, they had come -here often, I knew their names." - -"They were friends of Mrs. L'Estrange?" queried Spencer. - -Just a faint shade of hesitation crept into the low voice. - -"Oh yes, friends of my cousin." - -"Straight sort of chaps, of course." - -"I have no doubt of that. They accused Mr. Esmond and his partner, -Major Golightly, of cheating. Of course the charge was denied, but -very half-heartedly. These three men were backed by others who had seen -something suspicious. It seems Mr. Esmond and his partner had aroused -suspicion before. Finally they confessed, and slunk out of the house." - -She paused a moment, and then laid her hand impulsively on his arm. - -"That first night you came to our house, you lost. Did you play at the -same table with Tommy Esmond? I forget." - -The answer came straight. "No, I lost something, what was it?--something -about a hundred and fifty. But Tommy Esmond did not rook me that time, -he was playing at another table. I remember he was very cock-a-hoop, -he was winning hand over fist. I say, I know I am putting a very -impertinent question, but were Tommy Esmond and his partner, this -Major Golightly, the only sharpers who came to this flat? Did I lose my -hundred and fifty, or whatever it was, quite honestly?" - -Miss Keane covered her face with her hands for a few seconds, and when -she took them away, he could see that tears were slowly trickling down -her cheeks. - -"Heaven knows, Mr. Spencer, I don't. My cousin is a strange woman. She -is fond of gaiety, of excitement. She asks people about whom she knows -nothing to her flat, I think," she added with an hysterical laugh; "she -fancies she is making herself a queen of Society. If she can get her -rooms full that is all she wants. When she does that, she fancies -herself the Duchess." - -"I think I understand," said Spencer gravely. "And I take it you would -give heaven and earth to get out of this environment?" - -"If you only knew how I loathe it," she cried, in a fervent tone. -"Sometimes I think I would rather run away and be a shopgirl or a -waitress, to get rid of this horrible atmosphere." - -Guy Spencer was very perturbed. He rose and walked up and down the -room--it was his habit to walk about, even in confined spaces, when he -was in an emotional mood. - -At length he turned, and faced her squarely. "Look here, Miss Keane. -It's rather nonsense talking about being a waitress or a shop-girl. You -told me you had a small income saved from the wreck. How much is it? -I am asking in no spirit of impertinent curiosity. I have a reason for -asking." - -She hesitated for a moment before she replied: "Something like a -hundred a year--paid to me quarterly by my cousin, Mr. Dutton, who is my -trustee." - -"Then you are not exactly a pauper. Shopgirls and waitresses don't earn -that." - -"But it would help," said Miss Keane, in a stifled voice. "A hundred a -year does not go far; with clothes and everything." - -He longed to take her in his arms there and then and ask her to be his -wife, so far was he subjugated by her subtle fascination. But certain -things occurred to him. He thought of his old ancestry, his uncle whose -heir he would be, even a faint idea of his cousin Nina flashed through -his mind. What would his relatives say to a marriage like that, the -marriage with a girl, however beautiful, picked up in a flat, owned by a -woman of good family but doubtful reputation? - -But he could not afford to lose her. He was rich, he could indulge any -passing whim. Out of his new-born ideas he spoke. - -"Miss Keane, I am very interested in you. Will you agree to look upon me -as a friend?" - -She looked up at him from under downcast eyes. - -"Mr. Spencer, somehow I have always looked upon you as a friend, as -something different from the ordinary man I meet in a place like this." - -"You want to get out of this atmosphere, away from your card-playing -cousin, who cannot keep her parties free from disgraceful scandals." - -"I have told you how fervently I long to say good-bye to it all." - -Spencer had made up his mind as to what he was going to do. It was -quixotic, but then he was a quixotic person. And, anyway, he was marking -time. He would ask her to marry him in the end, but, at the moment, he -did not clearly see his way to do so. - -"Suppose a woman friend offered to lend you five hundred pounds, to -enable you to get clear of this stifling atmosphere, what would you say? -You could go and live where you like and look around." - -"If a woman friend asked me that I think I should say, yes." - -"You have agreed that I am your friend, true, a man friend," said Guy. -"Suppose I made you the same offer, what is your answer?" - -"From a man friend I fear my answer must be an unhesitating 'no,' even -to you." - -He admired her answer. He could gather from it that she respected -herself too much to snatch at any offer that came along. - -But he would play with her still. "Why?" he asked. - -The beautiful eyes, still a little clouded with her tears, met his -unfalteringly. - -"You know as well as I do," was her answer. "I am poor, Mr. Spencer, but -I am very proud." - -He sat down beside her, and took her hand in his. - -"I admire you for that answer, Stella. I may call you Stella, may I not? -But I am not quite the ordinary type of man. I am going to speak quite -plainly to you. If you accept that five hundred pounds, I am not going -to ask you for any return. I want you to understand that." - -She shot at him a swift glance from under the downcast eyes. - -"You are a man out of a thousand, nay, out of ten thousand," she said, -and in her voice there was a note of great appreciation. If Stella Keane -ever felt a good impulse in her life, it was towards this man who was -doing his best to befriend her. - -"Listen to me," said Spencer persuasively, her delicate hand still lying -in his. "I don't know that I have done much good to other people in my -life, but I do want to help you. I should like to get you out of -this beastly hole. My proposal is, that I shall take for you a little -furnished flat and supplement your income, or give you the five hundred -pounds down, to do what you like with. It is for you to choose." - -"You would do this for me?" said Stella softly. "You must really like -me, then! Men don't do this sort of thing for women unless they like -them." - -"I like you very much, Stella, and I want to help you." - -He knew that he could take her in his arms and kiss her at his will. But -he forebore. He was not going to spoil this somewhat idyllic wooing. - -"It cannot take place for a week or so," she said presently. "I cannot -quite leave my cousin in the lurch. I must give her some sort of notice. -Of course, I can make the excuse that the events of last night have -completely shattered my nerve." - -"I don't wonder," was Spencer's comment. "Now, about this little matter -we have been speaking of. I think it would be better if I paid this -money into your bank, and left you to make your own arrangements. I -suppose you have a bank?" - -Yes, Miss Keane had a banking-account, a very small one. She smilingly -remarked that it would give the manager a shock when such a large sum -was paid into it. - -"I will draw the money in cash to-morrow and bring it to you," said -Spencer. "Then nobody will be able to guess from whom it comes." - -He rose, he could not trust himself to stay very much longer. At any -moment his reserve might break down. He might be impelled to change the -role of the benevolent friend into that of the ardent lover. - -And for a long time after he had left, Stella Keane sat absorbed in the -most serious thoughts. - -There was no doubt he was ardently in love with her. But he was not yet -quite prepared to screw up his courage to the sticking place. - -It was easy to understand. The obligations he owed his family were -weighing on his mind. - -The woman he made his wife would one day be the Countess of Southleigh. -He had to think of all this. And all he knew about her was learned from -her own statement, and she had a cousin who was, from his point of view, -certainly not a gentleman. - -Above all things, Stella Keane was a very business-like young woman, and -never shrank from looking facts squarely in the face. She must play -a waiting game. Guy Spencer was very deeply in love, but he was not a -hotheaded, impetuous boy, the sort of amorous youth who runs off with a -chorus girl, regardless of consequences. Lovers of this kind were very -rarely met with. - -If Guy Spencer did marry her, and she could not at the moment be sure -he would, he would be fully conscious of the disadvantages to himself -entailed by such a marriage. Would her fascination be strong enough to -conquer his better judgment? - -At any rate, for the present he was prepared to advance her five hundred -pounds, and ask nothing but her friendship in return. It was an offer -that she would have been a fool to refuse. - -Presently she rose and went up to Mrs. L'Estrange's bedroom. That sorely -perturbed lady had risen, flung on a dressing-gown, and was reclining on -a sofa. - -"I can't sleep, I only fidget and fidget about," was the explanation. -"So I thought I might as well get up." - -"Very wise," said Stella calmly. "You're a little bit too hysterical, -you know. You should keep your nerves in order as I do mine." - -"Not always," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "They go to pieces in -thunderstorms and air raids, don't they?" - -"The exception proves the rule, my dear lady. Well, I haven't come up -here to indulge in a sparring match. I have some very great news for -you. Mr. Spencer called this afternoon; he hasn't left me very long." - -The elder woman became interested at once. "You don't mean to say he has -asked you to marry him?" - -Stella laughed. "No, he hasn't, although it will not be my fault if he -doesn't later on. It seems Tommy Esmond called on him last night, and -made a clean breast of his whole history." - -Mrs. L'Estrange frowned. "Then I think he was a great fool. Everybody, -of course, will know what actually happened, that he was discovered -cheating. But he need not go and tell him more than he would learn from -general rumour.'" - -Stella's face hardened a little. "You must make some allowances for him. -He must have been in a terrible state of tension when he felt that his -career was ended. He was so very proud, you know, of the position in -society that he had won for himself. He must have felt like a man on the -eve of execution. He was hardly responsible for his thoughts or actions. -He is very highly-strung." - -Mrs. L'Estrange spoke more gently. "Yes, of course. I am sorry I said -that, my dear. And after all, it doesn't make any difference how much -he told or how little. The result to him is the same. And now for your -great news, what are they? You say Spencer has not asked you to marry -him." - -Stella told her of Guy's suggestion, and her acceptance of it. "It is -too good a chance to refuse. So, my dear, I shall have to leave you at -the earliest possible moment." - -It was some time before the elder woman seemed quite able to grasp it. -when she did, her astonishment seemed unbounded. - -"Of all the strange things I have ever heard," she began, but Stella cut -her short with a little mocking laugh. - -"Not quite so strange when you think it quietly out," she said. "If -he really knew anything about me, if I could produce a few respectable -relatives, if I had some of your blue blood in my veins, he would have -proposed this afternoon." - -Mrs. L'Estrange nodded her rather dishevelled head. "I think I see." - -"He is very much in love with me," went on Stella quietly. "Anyway, so -much so that he doesn't want to lose sight of me, while he is making up -his mind. Hence his offer." - -"But he could see you here." - -Stella shook her head. "He would loathe this house after what occurred -last night, and he thinks I am in an unholy set. He really is an awful -dear, you know, so high-minded and upright. His great aim is to get me -away from the environment." - -Mrs. L'Estrange settled herself comfortably amongst her sofa cushions. -She was an excitable and fussy person about trifles, but she took the -great things of life with a calm and equal mind. - -"Well, my dear, go as soon as it suits yourself. You have been a good -pal to me, and I shall be sorry to lose you. But if you have got a -decent chance you would be a fool not to take it." - -Miss Keane was strongly of the same opinion. Anyway she was glad the -interview was over, that Mrs. L'Estrange had taken everything in such -good part. She might have turned nasty if the mood had seized her. - -Later on, Miss Keane wrote a long letter to Tommy Esmond to an address -which he had communicated to her in his note of the morning. - -The same evening, she held a long conversation with her cousin and -trustee, Mr. Dutton, who came to Elsinore Gardens in obedience to an -urgent summons on the telephone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -|Lady Nina Spencer sat in the drawing-room of the big house in Carlton -House Terrace, awaiting the few guests who had been invited to a small, -informal dinner-party. Her father, very infirm for his years, sat -opposite to her in a big easy-chair. - -The Earl spoke in his low, quavering voice: "I have nothing to say -against the woman herself, judging from what little we have seen of her. -She has very perfect manners, just a trifle too perfect. I can quite -understand that for the average man she possesses considerable charm, -and she has great good looks. Many people would call her beautiful. -But I can only repeat what I said on the day I received Guy's letter -announcing his clandestine marriage: 'The pity of it.'" - -Lady Nina was a quiet, robust and practical young person, fond of -looking facts in the face, and looking at them very squarely. - -She had been as much shocked at her cousin's rash marriage as the Earl -himself, but it was an accomplished fact. Only two courses were open: -the first to have nothing more to do with Guy and his wife, the second -to admit the wife to a guarded intimacy. - -Lord Southleigh had declared warmly, in his first disgust, that he would -never look upon his young kinsman's face again. But Nina had prevailed -with milder counsels. Guy was his heir, and in the course of Nature -would succeed to the family honours. They would not cut themselves -adrift from him, and they must make up their minds to tolerate this -wife, of whose antecedents he could give no satisfactory account. The -one fact he did mention, that she was a cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, did -not weigh much with them. - -Mrs. L'Estrange came of a fairly good family, so far as birth counted, -but it was both impecunious and addicted to making unfortunate -alliances. One of her sisters had run away with a good-looking young -fellow who had been her father's valet. She was a woman who would have -a good many undesirable relatives knocking about. Miss Stella Keane, the -daughter of an impoverished Irishman, might well belong to this band of -undesirables. More especially as Guy's statements about her antecedents -were of the most bald and unsatisfactory nature. - -It was all very sad and regrettable from every point of view, but, -as Nina calmly pointed out, several young heirs to peerages had been -running amok lately, in the matrimonial sense, and taking their wives -from very questionable quarters. Guy might have married some coarse and -common creature from the music-halls. It was unfortunate, in a way, that -he had a considerable fortune of his own, and could snap his fingers at -the displeasure of his relatives, if they presumed to show it. - -But, somehow, knowing Guy as well as she did, Nina did not believe that -the future Countess of Southleigh, who would, in due course, wear -the family jewels, was likely to be coarse or common. Guy was too -fastidious, too innately a gentleman, to be snared by a creature of that -kind. - -And, on her first introduction, the young wife made a much more -favourable impression than might have been anticipated, considering the -prejudices arrayed against her. - -She was not in the least servile or obsequious in the presence of these -two very aristocratic persons, but she bore herself with a certain kind -of shrinking modesty, as if asking pardon for having intruded into the -family. Her attitude to her husband appeared to be one of shy adoration, -tempered with perfect good taste. Her deep affection for him, while -not obtrusive or ostentatious, seemed to express itself in her tender -glances, the soft cadences of her voice when she addressed him. - -Nina made up her mind to one thing, that, if she was not genuinely -and devotedly in love with him, she must be one of the most perfect -actresses to be met with off the stage. - -And Guy was still infatuated. When he had made her that strange offer, -he knew that he was drifting, but he had still left some small remnant -of self-control. But her fascination had proved too strong. Every day -she wove the chains more strongly round him. - -And then there came a time when absence from her was unbearable, when he -took to counting the hours that elapsed between their next meeting. The -end was inevitable. The moment came when he definitely made up his -mind that he could not break away; that existence without her would be -intolerable. - -They were married quietly before the registrar, a strange wedding for -the heir to the Southleigh earldom. No relatives of his were present, -as he had foreborne to give them any notice of his intention. She -was unattended also. Even her cousin, Mr. Dutton, did not put in an -appearance. Knowing her future husband's dislike of the young man, she -had not paid him the compliment of requesting his attendance. - -The day before the marriage, she spoke to him in a tremulous voice and -with tears in her eyes. - -"Guy, darling, I have said very little about this before, but you must -not think I am blind to the sacrifices you are making. From to-morrow -I bid adieu to my past life, to all the few friends and acquaintances I -have made; I know that you will be happier by my doing so. Henceforth -I devote my whole life to you. Your people shall be my people, if they -will forgive me and have me." - -He clasped her to his breast with a lover's rapture. How sweet and -womanly she looked as she uttered those words in her low, broken tones. -He understood what she meant. For his sake she was going to give up all -that shady L'Estrange crew, to see as little of her objectionable cousin -as possible. She explained, later on, that she could not ignore him -altogether, as he had the management of her small affairs in his hands. -But all this could be conducted by correspondence. - -Guy was delighted. He knew well enough that his own world would not -accept his marriage kindly, that they would never take his wife to their -offended bosom. But they would rub along somehow. There were plenty of -men he could bring to their house, and perhaps a few decent women who -were perfectly respectable, but not too strait-laced. And, anyway, the -world was well lost for love like this. - -It cannot be said that, on the social side, their existence was a very -brilliant one. It did not matter so much to Guy, he had never been -over-fond of society. He liked his men friends, and having been a -bachelor so long, he was fond of club life. He got quite as much -amusement and distraction as he wanted. - -His wife had many lonely hours, but she was wise in this respect that -she never sought to chain him to her side. Whenever he came home he -found her there waiting for him, affectionate and welcoming. Perhaps, -after her stormy and chequered past, what would have been dullness to -others seemed to her the peace she had been longing for. - -She got on very well with her husband's male friends, most of whom -openly expressed amongst themselves their admiration for her. - -If she had been a woman of a flirtatious temperament she could have had -a good time without overstepping the bounds of decorum. But she never -exceeded the limits of strict friendship. She never indulged in an -intimacy that could have the least element of danger in it. The general -vote was, that she was very beautiful, very charming, in a quiet, -elusive way, but naturally of a cold and unimpassionable nature. Only -for her husband did her glance take on a warmer expression, her voice a -tenderer tone. - -The few women who came to the house found her unsatisfactory. The -impression made upon them--and women are pretty shrewd when dissecting -one of their own sex--was that she was a person who lived too much -within herself, had a rooted disinclination "to let herself go" in -those little confidential chats which are indulged in when no men -are present. And for that studied reticence there must be some cogent -reason. Above all, she never referred to her girlhood, never made any -allusions to her family. The general impression was that Mrs. Spencer -had something to hide. - -Anyway, after many months of married life, Guy was still as much in love -with her as ever, and he was always profoundly touched by the pretty and -impressive way in which she insisted that all the advantages were on her -side, that she could never repay him sufficiently for the sacrifices he -had so cheerfully made. - -Of course Guy knew nothing of what his friends were saying; the men -who admired her beauty, and were disappointed at the negative qualities -which accompanied it; the women who found her unsatisfactory and were -determined that she had something to hide. - -All he knew, and was content in knowing, was this--that after many -months of matrimony, for they had been married few weeks before the -Armistice was proclaimed--that Armistice which was to be the precursor -of a golden era--he was quite happy. She was a perfect wife, from his -point of view, and he never looked back with the faintest misgiving. -What he had done then, he would do again to-day, in spite of the fact -that her reticence with regard to the past was as profound with him as -with the various acquaintances who occasionally visited her. - -Not even the close intimacy of married life had elicited any of those -allusions and confidences which enable one to piece together, in some -measure, the life-history of the person who makes them. But Guy had -a generous nature, and was one of the least suspicious of men. He -attributed this strange reticence to the fact that the past contained -nothing but painful memories, that even to the man she loved she could -not reopen the old wounds. - -On this particular night, Lady Nina was awaiting her guests. It was a -little dinnerparty to meet the young married couple, six in all, herself -and father, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, a young woman friend of the hostess, -and an old friend of the Southleigh family, Hugh Murchison, already met -with in the early chapters of this history. - -Murchison was the first arrival. He walked with a slight limp, the -result of a bad wound in the leg. He had been laid-up for a very long -time at his own home with the effects of shell-shock. He had only been -in London for a few days, and it was ages since the Southleighs had seen -him. They welcomed him warmly. - -After a little desultory conversation Nina spoke: - -"You know from my note that you are here to-night especially to meet -Guy and his wife, the wife that he sprang upon us in such a sudden and -dramatic manner." - -"Yes, I understood that. You know I have been out of the world so long, -and more than half the time not in my right senses, that I had heard -nothing of the details till, a day or two ago, I picked it up from club -gossip. Then I was told that Guy had picked up a girl from nowhere, -about whom nothing was known, and married her on the sly at a -registry-office. I suppose it would be too unkind to assume that Guy had -gone off his head?" - -Lord Southleigh growled out from his easy-chair. "Of course he was off -his head when he did it. And the devil of it is he seems just as much -off his head now. They are like turtle-doves, my dear boy, after several -months of marriage." - -Lady Nina laughed. "My dear father gets more cynical every day. He -insinuates as a general proposition, anyway it can be deduced from -his remarks, that every man who marries a girl for love ought to be -disillusioned shortly after the honeymoon. Well, certainly Guy is as -much in love as ever, and, to be quite fair, she seems just as much in -love with him." - -"She's putting it on, I suppose," suggested Hugh, who in a less -obtrusive fashion was nearly as cynical as his host. "If she came from -nowhere, and nobody knows anything about her, we may safely assume -that she married him for his money, and that he was too infatuated to -recognise the fact. Is she very bewitching?" - -"She is certainly very good-looking," was Nina's reply. "Many people say -she is beautiful. From a man's point of view, she would be considered -very charming in a subtle and elusive sort of way. Of course, my father -hates her, it is a terrible shock to his pride to think she is going -to inherit the family honours. Guy could have married anybody, although -there would always have been still the danger that he would have been -married for his money. When it comes to this point, there is not much -difference between the well-born and low-born adventuress." - -From which remarks it will be gathered that the Lady Nina Spencer was -a young woman of independent opinions, and not too strongly imbued with -caste prejudices. - -Hugh reflected for a few moments. His thoughts had travelled back to -those days at Blankfield, which now seemed so very far oft. What folly -will not a certain type of man commit for the sake of a pretty woman? -Jack Pomfret, in a moment of frenzy, had taken his life when he found he -was tied up to a girl the accomplice and the decoy of a criminal. - -And Guy Spencer, a man of a very different type from the easy-going, -pleasure-loving Pomfret, had made a hash of his opportunities, flouted -his family obligations, to pursue the desire of the moment, to marry out -of his own class. - -"What I hear is, that there is something very mysterious about her, that -she preserves a strange reticence as to her past, makes no allusion to -family or relatives. Does Guy know what other people do not know, and -is he keeping his mouth shut? It is strange. Even if a man marries a -ballet-girl, it comes out sooner or later that her father was a railway -porter, or something of that sort." He pulled himself up suddenly, -and added, awkwardly: "I say, you know, I am afraid I have been very -indiscreet. I forgot for the moment that she is one of the family now." - -A deep growl came from the Earl's armchair: "She is not one of the -family, she never will be. If the young fool had not been left that -money by his godmother he would never have dared to do this disgraceful -thing. By gad, Hugh, it is over a hundred years since there was such a -_mesalliance_ in our family: please Heaven it will be a hundred years -before there is another." - -Nina took up the conversation at the point where her angry father left -it. - -"Of course, Hugh, you can say what you like. You are our old friend; -you are Guy's for that matter, and we are prepared to discuss this thing -with you quite frankly. Guy may know more than we imagine; personally, I -think he knows very little, and only what she has told him." - -"But surely, she must have given some particulars of herself," cried -Hugh, in amazement that a man like his friend Spencer, endowed with a -fair share of common-sense, should take a wife upon trust, as it were. -To be sure, Pomfret had done the same thing, but then poor old Jack, -possessor of many excellent qualities, was singularly deficient in -brain-power. He was one of those who never looked before they leaped. - -Nina shrugged her shoulders. "All we know is that she was a Miss Stella -Keane, the daughter of a man who gambled away his fortune at cards -and on the race-course. As for relatives, she has for cousin a Mrs. -L'Estrange, a woman of good birth, but of somewhat shady reputation, who -no longer mixes with her own class. There is another cousin, a man whose -name I forget. I gather more from what has been omitted than what is -actually said, that he is not a very desirable person, and has not -visited Mrs. Spencer since her marriage. That is all I have learned -during these many months." - -"Not much, certainly. And I suppose the lady dries up when you try to -approach her on the subject." - -"Oh yes, her manner then is very marked," was Nina's answer. "At the -slightest question she seems to become frozen, to shut herself up within -her shell. You know, Hugh, I was prepared to make the best of it all -for Guy's sake, although, of course, I quite sympathise with my father's -resentment. I have nothing to say against her manners or her appearance. -If not a lady, she is most ladylike, and she never offends. But all -the same, I can't take to her. To me there seems something about her -secretive and underhand. She appears to adore Guy, but, as you have -suggested, that may be very accomplished acting." - -At this point, Miss Crichton, Lady Nina's friend, was announced. She -was not in the inner counsels of the Southleigh family, so no further -allusion was made to Guy's wife. - -A few moments later the Spencers arrived. Guy shook his old friend -Murchison warmly by the hand, they had met of late years only once or -twice during Hugh's brief leave from the Front. When they had exchanged -a few mutual inquiries, the young husband turned to his wife, looking -very slender and elegant in a filmy cream confection. - -"Stella, one of my oldest friends, Hugh Murchison. We were boys -together. You must have heard me speak of him." - -The young woman held out her hand with a charming smile that lighted up -the rather sad face, and made her look what so many of her admirers said -she was, quite beautiful. - -"Yes, Major Murchison, I have heard of you from my husband, and how much -you have suffered in this cruel war. You must come and see us, and renew -your old friendship." - -For a moment Hugh could not speak. The room seemed suddenly peopled with -ghosts of the past, summoned by the soft tones of that charming voice, -so low and sweetly modulated. Then, collecting himself with a great -effort, he dropped her hand, and made some formal answer. And at that -moment the butler announced that dinner was served. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -|Small and informal dinner-parties can be either very lively or very -dull, depending, no doubt, upon the careful selection of the guests, -also on the personality of the host and hostess, who can sometimes -exercise magnetic influence. - -Nina was, as a rule, a very vivacious hostess. Her father was uncertain. -If he were in a congenial atmosphere, amongst his old friends and -comrades, he would radiate geniality. But if there was one guest who -did not quite hit it off with him, between whom and himself there was an -undefined spirit of personal antagonism, he dried up at once, and became -gloomy and morose. - -To-night, as his guest of honour, sitting at his right hand, he had the -niece-in-law whose entrance into the family he had so bitterly resented. -During the long courses he hardly spoke a word. He was rude almost to -boorishness. - -But although Stella was fully conscious that she was there on -sufferance, her admirable self-control enabled her to comport herself -with unruffled demeanour. If this spiteful old man hoped that he was -annoying her with his churlish behaviour, she would not give him the -satisfaction of knowing that she was hurt. She ignored him, as he -purposely ignored her. - -Miss Crichton, a cheerful, chatty young woman, whose flow of good -spirits made her welcome at many houses, sat on the other side of the -host. Finding Lord Southleigh disinclined to conversation, and guessing -the reason of it, she divided her remarks between Stella Spencer and -Murchison, who sat next her. - -A good-hearted girl, she felt just a little bit sorry for Stella. -Lord Southleigh was not playing the game. His attitude was altogether -illogical. It was open to him to refuse to receive his unwelcome niece -at all, that would have been perfectly comprehensible. But having -admitted her to his house, it was in the worst possible taste to so -openly proclaim his dislike and detestation. - -Lady Nina talked brightly to her cousin Guy, in the random flashes of -her conversation, taking in the others, with the solitary exception of -her father, who sat there glum and silent, in one of his blackest -and most unapproachable moods. And Miss Crichton did her best, really -working very hard to counteract the sombre influence of the taciturn -host. - -But in spite of the brave efforts of the two young women there was no -exhilaration in the air, only a sort of well-defined depression, such as -is felt in the atmosphere before the faint rumblings of a thunderstorm. -Nobody really felt comfortable, not a single guest would feel anything -but relief when the tedious evening drew to a close. - -Guy Spencer was relieved, in a way, that his uncle had ostensibly buried -the hatchet, but still he never felt happy in that uncle's house. The -strong disapproval was there, if suppressed for the sake of politeness. - -These little informal dinners, given at long intervals to impress upon -him that he was still a recognised member of the family, bored him -extremely. They were always strictly limited as to numbers, and the -other guests were generally people of no importance, on the outer fringe -of that society in which the Southleighs moved. - -It was difficult to know what Stella was feeling, for she had such -admirable self-control. But if she was a sensitive woman she must have -been cut to the heart by the behaviour of her elderly relative. And -her suffering must have been more poignant from the fact that this -contemptuous behaviour must be apparent to every other member of the -party. - -While the two young women were chattering away, battling, as it were, -against the general depression, Hugh Murchison was trying to collect his -thoughts. - -Strange that his recollections had harked back to that tragedy at -Blankfield while Nina was speaking of the young Mrs. Spencer. And, if -his memory and his eyesight were not playing him false, he was sitting -opposite to the unhappy Pomfret's widow. - -Six years make a considerable difference in the personal appearance of -any man or woman, and they had made a difference in her. If he had met -her in the street, he would not have known her. Perhaps he would not -have known her to-night, but for that sudden accidental throwing back -of the memory of old times. In other words, if his mind had not been -accidentally diverted to Jack Pomfret, he would have failed to recognise -the woman whom he once knew under the name of Norah Burton. - -And yet could he be sure? Let him think a little. Six years ago Norah -Burton looked twenty, and Davidson the detective assured him she was at -least four years older than she looked--the appearance of youth, he had -added, was one of her assets. - -This young woman did not look a day older than twenty-six, and taking -the computation of the years, she must be at least thirty. But if she -were Norah Burton, and had retained that priceless asset of youth, she -would still have that four years' advantage. - -Then Norah Burton's hair was fair and wavy, Stella Spencer's was dark. -Still it is easy for a woman to alter the colour or the appearance -of her hair. If Stella Keane had arisen, like the phoenix, from Norah -Burton, she would alter herself in every detail, so far as Nature -permitted her. - -Still, it is said that everybody in the world has a double. Often in -his own experience he had claimed acquaintance with somebody whom he -had mistaken for an old friend, and smilingly apologised for his error. -Norah's good looks had been of a rather uncommon kind, but there must be -dozens of women in the world more or less like her. - -Then, as Miss Crichton's harmless chatter flowed on, he thought of other -things. Norah had an obscure past, on which such guarded confidences as -she permitted herself to indulge in threw little or no light. It would -appear that Stella Keane's history moved much on the same lines. There -were only vague intimations, nothing definite, nothing satisfactory. - -There was another point of resemblance. Norah had one male relative who -came out into the open for inspection, in her case a brother, afterwards -discovered to be a criminal. Stella Keane had one male relative also, -in her case a cousin, of whom nothing was known, except that he was an -undesirable person who had not visited his relative's house since her -marriage, no doubt for reasons well known to himself and Stella. - -_Ergo_ the undesirable cousin was lying low, as George Burton would have -lain low, when Jack Pomfret had openly acknowledged Norah as his wife. - -And yet--and yet--was there anything in these suspicions? was he -not allowing himself to be misled by a chance resemblance, by random -coincidences? - -He stole a look at Guy Spencer chatting amiably with his cousin, the -cousin whom rumour had persistently designed as the future Countess of -Southleigh. He seemed the happy contented young married man; there was -no hint of trouble or regret in his assured, placid demeanour. Evidently -he was suffering from no self-reproach, no suspicion of the beautiful -young woman he had made his wife. The calmness of his aspect gave the -lie to any such disquieting suggestions. - -And the current of Murchison's thoughts ran swiftly along. They had been -married some time now. If Stella Keane was the impostor Hugh suspected -her to be, from that striking resemblance to Norah Burton the heroine of -that tragic Blankville episode, surely in the close intimacy of wedded -life something would have escaped her that would have aroused her -husband's suspicions, have set him inquiring more closely into the past. - -Granting that she was a clever actress, still the most accomplished -performer in the world could not wear the mask all day. There must -come one moment, if not several moments, when that mask would be -inadvertently dropped. - -No, he must be mistaken. The resemblance must be accidental. The brother -in the one case, the cousin in the other, were equally accidental -coincidences. - -He had got to this frame of mind when the men joined the ladies after -dinner. In the spacious drawing-room, the atmosphere seemed to have -cleared, the tension to be relaxed, with the change of scene. - -This was readily comprehensible. During dinner, Lord Southleigh, -frowning and morose, in close juxtaposition with his guests, had in a -very real sense dominated the scene, and communicated a sense of his -hostility and displeasure to all round him, not least to the unhappy -young woman who had inspired those wrathful feelings. - -Upstairs he was less in evidence. He retreated to the far end of the -room, flung himself in a deep armchair, and, in a way, removed -himself from the proceedings. There was nobody to whom he felt himself -constrained to be civil. Murchison he had known from a boy; he could -afford to be uncivil, to play the role of churlish host. Miss Crichton -was more or less a social hanger-on, grateful for invitations to good -houses; she did not count. Guy had forfeited all claim to consideration. -His wife ought to be made to feel her position every moment of her life. - -Murchison gravitated to Miss Crichton. Well born, she was very poor, and -by no means proud. She accepted in a meek spirit the social crumbs that -were thrown at her by her wealthy superiors. She was always obliging and -amiable. She never grumbled at being asked to join a dinner-party at -the eleventh hour, when some other guest had failed. She never resented -being put in a small bedroom at a country house-party, while a rich girl -with no ancestry was given a luxurious apartment. - -On account of this excessive amiability, this indifference to studied -and unstudied slights, she was immensely popular. All her friends -declared her not only to be amiable, but "so sensible!" - -Hugh had known her for years, and in a way he pitied her, much more -really than she pitied herself, for she had long since grown accustomed -to her lot. But what he did know was, that she was as shrewd as she was -amiable, that under that gay and smiling exterior she concealed a very -acute intelligence. - -He wanted particularly to know her opinion of Mrs. Spencer, if she were -frank enough to give it, for she had especially developed the bump of -caution. She heard a great deal, but what she heard she generally kept -to herself. It would have been fatal to her somewhat insecure position -if it could have been said of her, with regard to any particular -scandal, "Of course, you will never give me away, but Laura Crichton was -my informant." - -He replied in a general way, "I was very interested, to-night, in my old -friend Guy Spencer's wife. She is a little bit on the quiet side, but -she is very beautiful, and there is certainly a wonderful charm about -her. Of course, Lord Southleigh behaved abominably. I rather wonder she -did not fling herself out of the room. One can understand his feelings, -in a certain way. But why does he not take one attitude or the other? -If he elects to receive her, for the sake of avoiding an open breach, he -ought to put his hostility in his pocket." - -Miss Crichton smiled her worldly and diplomatic smile: "Dear Lord -Southleigh is never very successful at hiding his real feelings." - -"Do you see much of her?" asked Hugh presently. - -"Oh, very little. I have met her a few times here, at these little -informal gatherings. Lord Southleigh won't have her at their big -parties, as I daresay you know. I have called on her a few times, and -she has called back. That is all." - -"Well, you have seen enough to form some opinion of her. I should dearly -like to know what that is." - -Miss Crichton looked at him quizzically. "Oh, the artfulness of you men! -Do you think I don't see that you are trying to draw me? Well, I have -formed the same conclusion that you have--she is very beautiful, and, -from a man's point of view, has a subtle charm. Will that content you?" - -Hugh regarded her with a smile as quizzical as her own. "No, I'm -afraid it won't. Now, look here, we are very old friends," he said -persuasively, "and I am pretty near as discreet as you are, I never -repeat what is told me in confidence. I should like to put a plain -question to you." - -"Put it: I don't promise to answer it, you know." - -"Of course not. But I am very much interested in this strange marriage -of Guy's. And, please don't think I am laying it on with a trowel, but -I have very great faith in your judgment, I would trust it more than I -would that of nine-tenths of the women I know." - -Of course she knew he was flattering her to obtain his purpose; but -then--was the most sensible woman absolutely impervious to flattery? - -"Ask me your question," she answered briefly. - -Hugh sank his voice to a whisper. "We hear a great deal about her -reticence as to the past. Do you think, in a few words, that Stella -Spencer is a good and straight woman in the general sense in which we -understand the expression?" - -For a moment Miss Crichton hesitated, then she looked him straight in -the face. He had compelled her to a most unusual frankness. - -"You will, of course, never breathe a word of this to anybody. Suppose -I say I refuse to reply to your question. Will you take that refusal as -the answer you really want?" - -"I will--a thousand thanks. The subject is closed between us," was -Hugh's grateful reply. - -A diversion was caused by the approach of Guy Spencer. - -"Hugh, old man, I am aching for a long crack with you. Come and dine -quietly with us next week. I suggest Tuesday if that will suit you?" - -"Perfectly; I am free on Tuesday, Guy." - -"Right, then. But to make sure, if Miss Crichton will excuse us, we will -go over to Stella and see if I have forgotten something, if we are free -that night. I can't always carry these things in my head." - -They crossed over to the beautiful young woman, who was sustaining a -somewhat listless conversation with her young hostess. - -"Stella," cried her husband, "I have asked Hugh to dine with us on -Tuesday. My recollection is that we have nothing on for that night. But -I thought you had better confirm it. You carry these things in your head -so much better than I do." - -Young Mrs. Spencer smiled at Hugh her sweet smile, and as she did so -her likeness to Norah Burton was overwhelming, the Norah Burton who had -smiled at him in just the same way six years ago, in the tea-shop at -Blankfield. - -"We are quite free, Major Murchison, and shall be delighted to see you." - -For a few moments he sat down beside her; and very shortly another -coincidence happened. - -Mrs. Spencer made use of a certain word which is always pronounced in -a certain way by educated people, and in another way by people who are -only partially educated. Norah Burton had pronounced this particular -word in the same way as Stella. - -Hugh had commented upon the fact to Pomfret, and that easy-going young -man had remarked to him that he failed to see it much mattered, that she -was at liberty to pronounce the word as she thought fit. - -When he got home, he passed a very restless night. When he had gone up -into the drawingroom after dinner, he had been half prepared to dismiss -the matter from his mind as a mere fantasy. And then had come his -brief interview with Laura Crichton, in which she gave him plainly to -understand that, in her opinion, Stella Spencer was not a good or a -straight woman. - -And then had come that corroborative little piece of evidence of the -mispronunciation of a certain word, establishing another link in the -chain of evidence that Stella Keane and Norah Burton were one and the -same person. - -And if it were so, what was his duty? If he could prove her to be Norah -Burton, and her undesirable relative, George Burton, now freed from -jail, could he permit such an adventuress to pass another day in the -house of this honest gentleman whom she had so skilfully entrapped, as -six years ago she had entrapped the guileless and trusting Jack Pomfret? - -The morning dawned and found him still in the throes of anxious thought. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -|As Murchison thought over matters in the cold, clear light of the -morning, when the brain is at its freshest, he cursed the fate that ever -seemed to mix him up in the private affairs of his friends. First had -been that unhappy episode of poor Jack Pomfret, who had not strength -of mind to survive the disgrace he had brought upon himself by his -impetuous folly. - -Now there was this affair of Guy Spencer's, which he felt he must -go through with and prove to the bottom. He must find out definitely -whether the likeness to Norah Burton was accidental, or whether that -scheming adventuress had, for the second time, ensnared a trusting and -unsuspicious man. - -On Tuesday night when he dined in Eaton Place with the Spencers, he -would seize an opportunity of putting to her a few leading questions. -They would be of such a nature, that if his suspicions were correct, -they would shake her self-possession. - -Certainly, she had betrayed no embarrassment at the sight of him, and -that was a point in her favour. For, assuming that she was Norah Burton, -the name of Murchison would be quite familiar to her, even if she had -forgotten his appearance after the lapse of those six years. - -In the meantime he would get as much information about Stella Keane as -he could before the date of the dinner. There was a man at his club, -Gregory Fairfax, a middle-aged gossip, who was to be found in the -smoking-room every day at a certain hour. - -Fairfax was a man of leisure and means, who had the reputation of -knowing more people, and all about them, than anybody in town. He mixed -in a dozen different sets: smart, fast, and Bohemian. He was equally -at home in Belgravia, Mayfair, South Kensington, and several other -quarters. He belonged to most of the best clubs, and many more that -had no pretensions to social distinction. His knowledge of the various -phases of London life was wide and extensive. He had also a marvellous -memory. He never forgot a face or the minutest details of a scandal. - -To this gentleman, with whom he was on quite intimate terms, having -known him from his first introduction to the London world, Hugh -repaired, in the hope of getting to know all there was to know about -this mysterious young woman who had so suddenly and clandestinely -projected herself into the Southleigh family. - -After a few casual remarks, he opened the ball. It was an easy task, -for there was nothing pleased Fairfax more than to place his extensive -social knowledge at the service of any friend or acquaintance who was in -search of details. - -"I say, Fairfax, I think you can help me in a little matter, because you -have the reputation of knowing everything about everybody." - -Mr. Fairfax smiled genially. He was very proud of his profound social -knowledge, and nothing pleased him more than to have his well-earned -reputation alluded to in flattering terms. - -"Fire away, my young friend. I think I have picked up a bit in my -twenty-five years of London life. Who is it you want to ask me about?" - -"I dined last night with my old friends the Southleighs; and there, for -the first time, I met Mrs. Guy Spencer. I had heard of the marriage, -of course, but no particulars of the young lady until I came to town -a little while ago. All I have learned is that she was a Miss Stella -Keane, and that she gives no very detailed account of her family -history. I gather the general impression is that there is a mystery -about her, which she refuses to allow anybody to penetrate. Do you know -anything about her yourself?" - -Fairfax assumed an air of great gravity and importance. He was now in -his element, about to pour out his stores of knowledge to an interested -and grateful listener. - -"There may be one or two people who know as much as I know--always -remembering that there is no first-hand knowledge, but the chances are -a hundred to one you would not come across them. It happens that I was -a good deal in that rather queer set which frequented Mrs. L'Estrange's -flat." - -"She was supposed to|be a well-bred woman, was she not?" - -"Oh, certainly, so far as family went. But, judging in the light of -subsequent events, there is no doubt she was a wrong'un. The place, from -the start, was simply a gambling saloon. Sometimes, the play was very -moderate. I am fond of a bit of a flutter myself, but I must own that I -never lost very much, and for a long time I never had any suspicions of -foul play." - -"Ah, but you had later on?" interrupted Hugh. - -"I'll come to that before we get on to Miss Stella Keane. Then one night -something happened. Do you remember a little chap named Esmond, who used -to go about everywhere?" - -Yes, Hugh remembered Tommy Esmond, although his acquaintance with him -had been of the slightest. - -"He was a funny little man, very genial and popular with everybody. Like -myself, he didn't stick to any one particular set, but went into a dozen -different ones. One night he would be dining at a swagger club with a -peer, the next he would be hobnobbing at a pot-house sort of a place -with a fifth-rate actor. Very eclectic was Tommy, and nobody ever knew -where the deuce he came from. He had been so long about that people -forgot to inquire, and looked upon him as a sort of institution, and -took him for granted, as it were. - -"Well, one night, one dreadful night, Tommy was discovered cheating by -a couple of chaps who were too sharp for him. They were common sort of -fellows, might have been crooks themselves for all I know, and kicked up -a deuce of a row. They went so far as to insinuate that Mrs. L'Estrange -was not altogether innocent, and had a hand in the plunder. Result, -Tommy had to make a bolt of it." - -"What was your own opinion about it? Was it an accident?" - -"I might not have believed it, but a similar thing took place about a -couple of months later. Another man was found cheating, and this -time Mrs. L'Estrange refused to face the music. She closed down, and -disappeared from London. I have never met anybody who has seen or heard -anything of her since. I expect she's to be found on the Continent like -her friend Tommy." - -"And Miss Keane was an inmate of this suspicious household?" - -"Yes, ever since I went to the house, up to a few days after Tommy -bolted. She left suddenly, and Mrs. L'Estrange was very reticent as to -where she had gone to. The next I heard was that she had been married -quietly to Guy Spencer." - -"Did any suspicions attach to her?" - -"No, it would not be fair to say that they did. She never played -herself, but she had a great knack of hovering about the tables. And -after the Esmond episode one or two men whispered that she had been -hovering about them too much, and that Mrs. L'Estrange thought she had -better get rid of her, might be so or not." - -"Did you ever come across a cousin of hers there, a man named Dutton?" - -"Oh yes, a dozen or more times, for I went to the flat pretty -frequently. A common, under-bred fellow, not in the least like her, for -in addition to being remarkably good-looking, her manners and appearance -were those of a lady." - -"Do you know what has become of him?" - -"Yes, he's an outside stockbroker, with a small office in the City. I -ran against him only last week. I don't know whether he recognised me -or not, but I looked the other way. With one or two exceptions, the -L'Estrange _clientele_ was not one that you cared to recognise when -outside the flat." - -Fairfax had finished his narrative. Hugh thanked him warmly. Still, he -had not learned anything really of importance. There was no evidence -that Miss Keane had cheated, or helped others to cheat. The hovering -round the card-table was not a particularly suspicious action if taken -by itself. She might be signalling to her confederates, of course, but -there was no evidence on which to convict her. - -A sudden thought struck Murchison which prompted him to put a question -to Fairfax. - -"She might have been a decoy, to lure rich men to this gambling place, -in order that they might be rooked by her accomplices." The middle-aged -man shook his head. "I don't think so. She had no scope for that sort of -game. Mrs. L'Estrange hardly knew anybody in her own world, for reasons -which I daresay could be very satisfactorily explained, I should guess a -not too clean or reputable past. She could not get the girl into houses -where she would pick up rich men." - -"But you say some men came there who played heavily." - -"A few," answered Fairfax. "But I always had a notion that Dutton picked -those up, in the course of his shady business, a mug here, a mug there, -who had a few thousands to throw away either on the Stock Exchange or -in gambling. If the flat was run on the crook, and it is even betting -it was, I should say the proprietors--or the syndicate, call it what -you like--were contented with quite small profits. I daresay a couple of -thousand a year would keep Mrs. L'Estrange in luxury, and I suppose she -must have had a bit of money of her own." - -"And, assuming that they were all in league, Tommy Esmond and others -would want their bit," suggested Hugh. - -"Certainly," assented Fairfax; "but always granting that the show was -run on the crook, it wouldn't be difficult to romp in thirty or forty -pounds a night, with even the small players and the occasional mugs -who were well-lined. Quite a decent amount to divide at the end of the -week." - -"Well, I am awfully obliged for all you have told me, Fairfax." - -"But it doesn't help you much, eh?" queried the elder man, who detected -a certain note of disappointment in his companion's tone. - -"Well, candidly, it doesn't, but of course, that is no fault of yours. -We may dismiss the L'Estrange business, there is no evidence there. She -might have signalled to her confederates or not. It might have been a -perfectly innocent action. She didn't play herself, she just hovered -round the tables to kill the time." - -"Of course, either theory will fit," remarked the shrewd man of the -world, who had picked up so much knowledge of life in his forty-five -strenuous years. - -He paused for a few moments before he spoke again. - -"Now look here, Murchison, I can read you like a book. I haven't -told you very much more than you know yourself, or could have pieced -together. You are disappointed because I couldn't tell you anything of -her history prior to her appearance in the L'Estrange household. Well, -there, I am at fault. And you have a particular reason for wanting to -know. In other words, you have some suspicions of your own." - -Hugh felt he must be cautious. In connecting Mrs. Spencer with Norah -Burton he might be on the wrong track altogether, have been deceived -by a striking, but purely accidental, resemblance. He could not be too -frank with a man of Fairfax's temperament. Rumour had it that he would -always respect a confidence, but his general reputation was that of a -chatterbox. He spoke guardedly. - -"Yes, certain undefined ones, quite undefined, please understand that." -Then, speaking a little more frankly, "What I dearly want to know is, -was she a straight woman before she charmed my friend Guy Spencer into -marrying her." - -Fairfax smiled his slow, wise smile: "I am glad you have put your cards -on the table. Of course I guessed from the beginning that it was what -you were after. Well, I shan't breathe a word of this to anybody; I -can hold my tongue when I have a mind. You have a deep interest in the -matter for the sake of the Southleigh family, eh?" - -Hugh had to admit that it was so. - -"Well, I am going to tell you something that, up to the present, I have -not told to anybody else, and, to tell you the truth, I was not in the -least interested in Guy Spencer's marriage. If he chose to marry a girl -without a past, that was his affair. But I see you are keen." - -"Yes, I am very keen." - -"Good! well, I will give you a little information, from which you can -draw your own inferences. They are as open to you as to me, and I -shall just state the bare facts. As you know, Esmond had to bolt to the -Continent. On a certain morning I came up from the country by an early -train, landing at Charing Cross. I went to the bookstall to buy a few -papers. I must tell you that I am one of those persons who have eyes at -the back of their head, and see everything going on around them." - -Yes, Hugh knew that Fairfax had a wonderful gift of observation, in -addition to his many other gifts. - -"As I turned away, I saw Esmond slink into the station, glancing -furtively from right to left, as fearful of being seen. Of course, I -had not heard the news, and I was not present at the _debacle_, but I -guessed something was up from his furtive appearance. As he slunk along, -a young woman heavily-veiled walked swiftly forward, and laid her hand -upon his arm. They were only together for a few seconds, Esmond was -evidently urging her to leave him for fear of recognition. When they -parted, she kissed him affectionately. In spite of the heavy veiling, I -recognised her." - -"Stella Keane, of course," cried Hugh. - -"Stella Keane. Fortunately, neither of them saw me, I expect they were -both too agitated. Well, there is the fact; as I said just now, you can -draw your own inferences, and perhaps answer the question whether she -was a good woman before she married your friend." - -"It is answered," said Hugh sternly. "A good woman would not trouble to -go to the station to say good-bye to a derelict card-sharper, and kiss -him affectionately, unless there had been some close and dishonourable -relationship between them." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -|Murchison arrived at Eaton Place about twenty minutes before the dinner -hour. His expectation was that he would find Mrs. Spencer alone in the -drawing-room, and in this hope he was not disappointed. - -Stella, beautifully gowned, was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, -reading. As he was announced, she rose and threw her novel down. She -advanced to him with outstretched hand and that ever-charming smile. - -"Oh, how sweet of you to come in good time, not rush in just a moment -before dinner is served. We can have a comfortable chat before Guy -comes. He takes an awful time to dress, you know. His ties bother him -really; he discards about half a dozen before he gets the proper bow. -Isn't it silly?" - -She was very girlish to-night, quite different from what she had been at -the Southleigh party, staid, demure, a little resentful, and averse from -conversation. - -Murchison's thoughts flew back to that day at Blankfield when he had met -a certain girl by chance at the tea-shop. Norah Burton had been just -as girlish then as Mrs. Spencer was now, allowing for the six years' -interval. - -She crossed over to a Chesterfield, and motioned him to a seat beside -her. Hugh obeyed her invitation, but he felt sure that she had done this -with a motive. She was about to exercise her subtle fascination on her -husband's friend. - -"Now, please tell me all about yourself," she said. "You are Guy's -friend, and I have a right to know. His friends are mine. I know what -you have done in the war: you have suffered very terribly. But before -that; please enlighten me." - -It was a challenge. Did she desire to know as much of his past as he -desired to know of hers? He looked at her very steadily. - -"You know, Mrs. Spencer, it is a little difficult to go back to anything -before those awful years of war. But I remember, as in a sort of dream, -that, quite as a young man, I was gazetted to the Twenty-fifth Lancers." - -"A crack regiment, was it not?" queried Mrs. Spencer. "My dear father -was in the Twenty-fourth." - -She was keeping it up bravely, he thought. He remembered Fairfax's -story. The woman who had said good-bye to a fugitive card-sharper at -Charing Cross Station, and kissed him affectionately, was hardly likely -to be the daughter of an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers. He -was not sure of very much, but of this one incident he was absolutely -positive: Fairfax was a man who was always certain of his facts. - -"I can't remember much about the early years; I expect I went through -the usual trials and troubles of a young subaltern, was subjected to -a good deal of ragging. Well, somehow, promotion came: I was Captain -at quite a youthful age. The one thing that sticks in my mind, in those -pre-war days, is the fact that we were quartered at Blankfield." - -Mrs. Spencer lifted calm, inquiring eyes. "At Blankfield! And where is -that?" - -"You don't mean to say you haven't heard of Blankfield?" - -Mrs. Spencer shook her dark head. "No; I dare say it shows great -ignorance, but I was never good at geography. I was brought up so -quietly; I have never travelled. I know next to nothing of my own -country, and nothing of any other." - -She uttered these remarks with a disarming and appealing smile, as if -asking pardon from a man of the world for having led such an uneventful -and sequestered life--she, as he thought sardonically, the mysterious -cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, the affectionate friend of the card-sharper -Tommie Esmond. - -"Blankfield is rather a well-known town in Yorkshire; it is also a -garrison town. As I said, it was my lot to be quartered there." - -"Was it a nice place?" queried Mrs. Spencer with an air of polite -interest. - -"In a way, yes; we had a good time. But my recollections of it -are distinctly unpleasant. For I had the misfortune to assist at a -tragedy--nay, more, to play a part in it--which has left an ineffaceable -record upon my memory." Stella Spencer leaned forward. There was no -momentary change of expression upon the clear-cut, charming face; her -eyes met his own with a calm, steady gaze. But he thought--and after all -that might be fancy--he detected a restless movement of her hands. - -"I shall like to hear about that tragedy, if it is not too painful for -you to recall it," she said softly. If she were really what he -believed her to be, she was playing the role of sympathetic listener to -perfection. - -"I had a young chum of the name of Pomfret, a mere boy, impulsive, -high-spirited, generous, unsuspicious, little versed in the ways of -the world, absolutely unversed in the ways of women. I had promised -his family to look after him. Looking back at this distance of years, -I realise how badly I fulfilled my trust; how, in a sense, I was -unwittingly the cause of the tragedy that befell him. I wonder if you -ever came across my friend, Jack Pomfret." - -"Never; but, of course, I have met so few people. And you know the -truth, as well as everybody else, I was not brought up in my husband's -world, in your world and that of the Southleighs. I could never claim -to be more than respectable middle-class. I take it, your friend was a -member of some old family." - -The voice was steady, but he thought he noticed an increased -restlessness in the movements of the hands. And the admission that she -was a member of the respectable middle-class struck him as conveying a -false note intentionally. If what she alleged was true, that her father -had been an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers, she was a grade higher -than the respectable middle-class. Clever as she was, she had made a -false step there. - -"You want to hear the history of that tragedy, of the terrible -circumstances which cut short the life of my poor young friend. Well, it -is hardly necessary to say that a woman was the cause. Women, I suppose, -have been at the bottom of most of the tragedies that have happened to -men ever since the days of Eve." - -"I know that is the general opinion, but I have always been very -doubtful as to whether it is a true one." - -She spoke lightly, but it seemed to him her tone was not quite so -assured as it had been a moment ago. Anyway, she was evidently intensely -interested in the forthcoming narrative. - -"At Blankfield I happened to make the acquaintance of a very charming -young woman, who was not received in the Society of the place, for the -reason that nothing was known about her. The acquaintance was made in -the most unconventional fashion. She asked me to call upon her and her -brother. I told all this to Pomfret, who knew the girl by sight, and -he asked me to take him along with me. He had met her very often in the -High Street, and was immensely attracted by her appearance." - -"And were you attracted, too, by this formidable young lady, Major -Murchison?" interrupted Stella. - -"In a way. But, honestly, more curious than attracted. Well, to cut my -story as short as I can, Pomfret soon arrived at an understanding with -the young woman, to a great extent without my knowledge. They were -married secretly; there were family reasons why he could not marry her -openly." - -"But this--but this"--was she speaking a little nervously, or was it -only his fancy?--"was quite romantic and charming. No doubt they were -deeply in love with each other. Surely there was no tragedy to follow -such a delightful wooing?" - -"But there was. This innocent-faced, charming girl was an adventuress -of the first water. She was the accomplice of her criminal brother, if -brother he was. A day or two after the wedding, Pomfret and I went -to dine with this wretched pair. Before we sat down to dinner, two -detectives entered the room and arrested the so-called brother on a -charge of forgery." - -Mrs. Spencer shuddered. "How horrible, how appalling! And what happened -to the girl? was she arrested, too?" - -"No; she fainted, and I dragged my friend away. At the time I did not -know he had married her. When I got him back to the barracks, he told me -his miserable story. That same night, or some time in the next morning, -he shot himself. It was perhaps a cowardly way in which to avoid the -consequences of his folly, but then he was always rash and impulsive." - -Mrs. Spencer spoke, and there was a far-away look in her eyes. "Your -poor friend! No wonder that memory haunts you. And yet, he was not very -wise. This poor adventuress might have been easy to deal with; she -might not have troubled him any further if he had made her some small -allowance; would, so to speak, have slunk out of his life. And she might -have been innocent herself, unable to break away from this wretched -criminal of a brother." - -"You are very charitable, Mrs. Spencer," said Hugh coldly. "But I fear -I cannot agree with you. If the girl had been naturally and innately -honest, she would rather have swept a crossing than have lived upon the -gains of that creature--brother, or lover, or whatever he was." - -Stella spoke with dignity. "You are, I see, very much moved, Major -Murchison, and you can judge better than I. I cannot pretend -to understand the mentality of adventuresses and their criminal -associates," she added with a light laugh, "but I should say that -sweeping a crossing is a most uncongenial occupation, especially in the -cold weather." - -"In other words, if you had been in her place, you would have preferred -to live on the earnings of a rogue?" queried Hugh, perhaps a little too -warmly. As soon as he spoke, he regretted his words. He had given her an -advantage, of which she was not slow to avail herself. - -She drew herself up proudly. "Major Murchison, are you not saying a -little too much in presuming to place me on the level of the adventuress -you have spoken of? I think it will be more consistent with my -self-respect to leave your question unanswered." - -And then suddenly her proud mood vanished, and a softer one took its -place. Her voice trembled as she spoke; there was a suspicious moisture -in her eyes. - -"I see that I was very wrong when I suffered Guy to persuade me to marry -him. I have alienated him from his friends and family, and, alas! I have -none of my own to bring him in exchange. His uncle loathes me; Lady Nina -is polite and tolerates me. And you--you, his old friend, who have known -him from boyhood--you dislike me also. But--" and here her voice swelled -into a proud note--"my husband loves and trusts me. While he does that, -Major Murchison, I can snap my fingers at the rest of the world." - -Murchison bowed respectfully; he felt he had got to recover a good deal -of lost ground. So far the woman had the advantage, but he did not fail -to notice the vulgarity of the last phrase, "snap my fingers." - -"I am very sorry if I have offended you, Mrs. Spencer, by my indiscreet -remarks. If you are secure in Guy's love, as I am sure you are, you have -a very happy possession." - -She sank back on the sofa, and in a second recovered the composure which -had been momentarily disturbed. - -"Forgive me if I have spoken a little warmly," she said, "but I could -not overlook what you said just now." - -And then Hugh shot at her his last bolt. "I have not yet told you the -name of the girl who drove my poor young friend Pomfret to his death." - -"Tell it me, if you please, but I shall be no more likely to know it -than the name of your friend, Mr. Pomfret. As I told you, I am a member -of the respectable middle-class; I cannot boast that I am acquainted -with the aristocracy, except through my husband." - -"And yet your father, you told me just now, was an officer in the -Twenty-fourth Lancers. Those officers were all recruited from the -aristocracy, or at worst the upper middle-class." - -"Oh, you are trying to cross-examine me and trap me," she cried -bitterly. - -But Hugh was inexorable. "The name of that woman was Norah Burton; her -accomplice, her brother as she called him, was George Burton; he had -other aliases," he thundered. - -He had shot his last bolt, but Stella was not shaken. She rose up, -quivering a little. He noticed that, but it might be due to the -agitation of wronged innocence. - -"The name conveys nothing to me. Your attitude during these few minutes -has been very strange. You have insinuated that I am an adventuress on -the same level with your Miss Norah something. Well, so far, poor dear -Guy has not shot himself, and I will take good care he doesn't." - -"You have much to gain by his living, if you love him--the title and -everything. I have no doubt he has made his will. You would gain a good -deal by his death. I cannot say, at the moment, which alternative would -suit you better." - -"You are intolerable, you are insulting. If I tell my husband this when -he comes down, he will kick you out of the house." - -"But I don't think you will tell your husband," retorted Hugh coolly. - -"And why not? My word will outweigh yours. I have only to tell him that -you brand me as an adventuress, of the same class as this Miss Nora -Burton, and you will see what he will say." - -"But you will not tell him," repeated Hugh. "Mrs. Spencer, I did not -think we should go so far as we have done. But I will put my cards -on the table at once, and I do so from certain indications in your -demeanour to-night. I will not say all I have in my mind; I am going to -collect further evidence first. But I will say this: you are not what -you seem." He had touched her now. Her calm had gone, her breast was -heaving, her hands were moving more restlessly. - -"Put your cards on the table and have done. I was Stella Keane when I -married my husband. I defy you to disprove that." - -"At present, no. You are the same Stella Keane who saw Tommie Esmond, -a discovered card-sharper, off at the Charing Cross Station, and kissed -him an affectionate farewell. If you were on such intimate terms with -that man, you are no fit wife for my friend Guy Spencer." - -He had touched her at last. "How did you find that out?" she gasped, and -her face for a second went livid. She was surprised beyond the point of -denial. - -And at that moment the door opened and Guy Spencer entered. She -recovered herself immediately; went up to her husband and laid a -caressing hand on his shoulder. - -"A perfect tie, dearest; it was worth the time. Your friend, Major -Murchison, has been distressing me with a terrible story of some tragedy -that happened when he was quartered at Blankfield." - -Guy Spencer smiled cheerfully. "Dear old Hugh is good at stories. He -must tell it me after dinner." - -As she looked up into her husband's face, Hugh noticed the tender light -in her eyes. Lady Nina had said that if she was not devotedly in love -with Guy, she must be the most consummate actress off the stage. Loving -wife or consummate actress, which was she? - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -|When Hugh reflected over that interview in the drawing-room before -dinner, he came to the conclusion that he had not played his cards very -well, that he had been a little too precipitate. Whether she was Norah -Burton or not, she was a very clever young woman, and he had just put -her on her guard by that rather indiscreet allusion to Tommy Esmond. If -he had no further evidence to go on than that incident, she would give -her husband a plausible explanation of it. And Hugh believed his old -friend Guy was still deeply in love enough with his wife to believe -anything she told him. - -He could imagine her telling that convincing story to Guy, probably with -her arms round his neck, and her pretty eyes looking up to his with the -love-light in them. Esmond had been a kind friend to her, had done her -many a good turn. Much as she deplored his baseness, she could not bear -the thought of his slinking out of the country, a branded fugitive, -without a forgiving hand stretched out to him. - -Backwards and forwards he revolved the matter in his mind, till he came -to the conclusion that the problem was one he could not solve himself. -And then he suddenly thought of his old acquaintance, Davidson of -Scotland Yard, the tall man of military aspect who had arrested George -Burton on that memorable night at Rosemount. - -He went round to Scotland Yard, presented his card, and inquired for Mr. -Davidson. His old acquaintance was dead; a man named Bryant had taken -his place. Would Major Murchison care to see him? - -In a few seconds Hugh was ushered into Bryant's room. To his surprise -and relief Bryant was the man who had accompanied Davidson to -Blankfield. It was pretty certain he would recall to the minutest detail -the circumstances of that visit. - -"Good-day, Mr. Bryant. You know my name by my card, of course, but I am -not so sure you remember anything of the time and place where we last -met." - -But the detective was able to reassure him on this point. - -"In our profession, sir, we remember everything and everybody, and we -never forget a face. It is some years ago, it is true, but I recall -the incidents of our meeting as if they had happened yesterday. Poor -Davidson and I came down to collar that slim rascal George Burton, -who, by the way, got off with a light sentence. Davidson saw you in the -afternoon and gave you the option of staying away. You talked it over, -and came to the conclusion that, for certain reasons, you would rather -be in at the finish. Those reasons were connected with your young friend -Mr. Pomfret, who was infatuated with the young woman." - -"You remember everything as well as I do, Mr. Bryant. I must -congratulate you on your marvellous memory, for I suppose this is only -one out of hundreds of cases." - -Mr. Bryant smiled, well pleased at this tribute to his capacity. - -"We cultivate our small gifts, sir, in this direction. Well, we took the -slim George. The girl fainted. You dragged Mr. Pomfret out of the house, -and he shot himself in the small hours of the morning. It came out that -he had married the young woman a day or two before, and could not face -the exposure." Hugh paid a second tribute to the detective's marvellous -memory. "And now, Mr. Bryant, have you any knowledge of what has -become of them? People like that are never quite submerged: some day or -another, like the scum they are, they will be found floating on the top -again." - -Bryant shook his head. "No, sir, I cannot say I have. They have not -come under our observation again. Probably they are abroad under assumed -names, engaged in rascally business, of course, but doing it very much -_sub rosa_." - -"Mind you, at present I have very little to go on," said Hugh. "I -may have been deceived by a chance resemblance. But I have a strong -intuition I am on their track." - -Bryant's attitude became alert at once. "You say you have no evidence. -well, tell me your suspicions, and I will tell you what weight I attach -to them." - -"First of all, before I do that, let me know if you would recognise -Norah Burton and George Burton again, in spite of the passage of years. -Norah had fair hair; the one I am on the track of has dark hair. The man -I have not seen; this time he is a cousin, not a brother." - -"Ah!" Mr. Bryant drew a deep breath. "If they are the people you think, -sir, and I once saw them, no disguises would take me in. Now tell me all -you know." - -Thus exhorted, Murchison launched into a copious narrative. He explained -that on the night of the dinner with the Southleighs at Carlton House -Terrace, he had met for the first time the wife of his old friend Guy -Spencer, that he had detected in her an extraordinary likeness to Norah -Burton. The marriage had been hastily contracted; next to nothing was -known about the young woman's antecedents, apart from the very vague -details with which she furnished them. - -In the background was a cousin, by all accounts a very common fellow, -who had never visited the house since the marriage. Then there was the -episode of Tommy Esmond being found cheating at cards at the L'Estrange -flat, and Stella Keane's farewell meeting with him at Charing Cross -Station. - -Mr. Bryant made copious notes. When the narrative was finished he made -his comments. - -"There are, of course, coincidences that may mean nothing or a great -deal, Major Murchison. However, assuming that the lady in question is -not our old friend Norah Burton, she is evidently not a very estimable -member of society. She was in a shady set at Mrs. L'Estrange's, and -Tommy Esmond must have been a pretty close pal." - -"Well, I want you to take this case on for me, and find out what you -can." - -But Bryant shook his head. "Sorry, sir, but in my position I can't take -on private business. It is not a public matter, you see, unless you can -accuse them of anything." Hugh's face fell. "I forgot that. What am I to -do? Can you recommend me to a private detective?" - -"Half a dozen, sir, all keen fellows. But you can't stir very much -without me, in the first instance. You want me to identify them. Well, -I will go so far as that, in memory of the time when we were together -in the original job. Mrs. Spencer, you say, lives in Eaton Place. I will -keep a watch on that house till I see her coming out or going in. If I -agree that she was Norah Burton, we have got the first step. Now, what -do you know about this cousin, Dutton?" - -"Only that he is an outside stockbroker, with an office, or offices, in -the City." - -"Good." Mr. Bryant opened a telephone book and rapidly turned over -the pages. "Here he is, right enough--George Dutton--George, mark -you--share- and stock-broker, Bartholomew Court. Well, sir, to oblige -you, I will run down to the City and get a peep at Mr. George Dutton. -If my recollection agrees with yours, I will put you on to one of my -friends, and you can have the precious pair watched. If they are the -persons you think they are, you may depend upon it they won't keep long -apart; they will make opportunities of meeting each other. Anyway, -they must be pretty thick together, or he would not put up with being -excluded from the house." - -Hugh left with a great sense of relief. He felt that the matter was -in very capable hands. If Bryant told him that he was following a -will-o'-the-wisp, then the whole matter could drop. The fact of Mrs. -Spencer's relations with Tommy Esmond were hardly important enough to -justify him in disturbing his friend's domestic felicity. - -At the end of three days the detective rang him up. The message was -brief: "Come and see me." - -Bryant received him in his room. "Well, Major Murchison, your suspicions -are quite correct. I have been very close to the interesting pair. Mrs. -Spencer has camouflaged herself very well, but beyond doubt she is Norah -Burton. Our gaol-bird, George Burton, has been less particular. He -has not disguised himself at all; the few years have made little or no -impression on him. He has hid himself in the City, trusting that nobody -he ever knew would come across him." - -"Then I was right, after all, Mr. Bryant. And now what would you advise -me to do? This woman is the worst type of adventuress card-sharper all -through--at least a confederate, in Paris with Burton, in London with -Tommy Esmond. To be fair, we cannot say how much or how little she knew -of his forgery business." - -"Your idea is to turn her out of her husband's house, with or without -scandal?" queried the detective. - -"Without scandal, if possible. I would prefer that. I suppose you would -back me up by saying that you have recognised her and this scoundrel who -was yesterday her brother and is to-day her cousin?" - -"If you push me to it, I will, Major Murchison, for the sake of our old -acquaintance. But, for reasons which I stated last time we met, I don't -want to mix myself up in a purely private affair. The woman caught hold -of a fool in your friend Pomfret; she has caught hold of another equally -silly fool in your friend Mr. Spencer. Please forgive my blunt language, -but it is so, is it not?" - -"You are quite right, Bryant," groaned poor Hugh. "I seem fated to be -mixed up in these matters. At the present moment I have a little stunt -on, in which I don't require any help. A younger brother of mine has got -mixed up with a young harpy in the chorus of a third-rate theatre. The -young fool has written compromising letters to her. I am trying to buy -these letters. I need hardly tell you she is asking a high price. I -can't see her at my own place, for fear of my brother popping in. I have -taken rooms in a suburb where I see her to carry on the bargaining." - -Mr. Bryant raised his hands. "Well, sir, when a woman once begins to -twist a man round her little finger there is no knowing to what length -he will go." - -"Profoundly true, Mr. Bryant. Well, what do you advise me to do?" - -"For the moment, nothing. Get a little more evidence. When I watched -this couple, I took my old friend Parkinson with me. He knows them now. -Get him to watch them. He will tell you where they meet, and how often. -Here is his card. He will wait on you at your convenience." - -"I quite see," said Hugh, as he took the proffered card. "If I can prove -that they are meeting on the sly it will strengthen my hands, eh?" - -"That is the idea. Of course, at the moment, I don't know which you are -going to tackle first, the husband or the wife." - -"I can't say myself, my mind is in such a whirl. But I feel I must -avenge poor Jack Pomfret's death." - -Mr. Bryant rose. "You will excuse me, Major Murchison, but I have a very -busy day. Make use of Parkinson; he is as keen as mustard. And if it -comes to this, that you want me for purposes of identification, I am at -your disposal, in Eaton Place or elsewhere." - -Murchison left, but not before he had pressed a substantial cheque into -Bryant's somewhat reluctant hand. - -The next day he interviewed Parkinson, a lean, ascetic-looking man of -the true sleuth-hound breed. He took his instructions. - -"Give me a fortnight, if you please, sir; a week is hardly long enough. -I'll warrant, from what our friend Bryant has hinted to me, I will have -something to report." - -And he had. At the end of the fortnight he appeared. He produced a small -pocket-book. - -"I'm glad you didn't stipulate for only a week, sir; it was rather -a blank one--only one meeting. I expect the lady couldn't get away -comfortably. But the week after I was rewarded. Three meetings in that -second week." - -"Ah! where do they meet?" - -"At quite humble little restaurants and queer places in the City. I -fancy the bucket-shop business is not very flourishing just now. For on -the last two occasions when I followed them in, and sat at a table -where I could observe them, I saw Mrs. Spencer slip an envelope into his -hand." - -"Good Heavens!" cried Murchison in a tone of disgust. "She is keeping -this criminal with her husband's money." - -Mr. Parkinson shrugged his shoulders. "A common enough case, sir, if you -had seen as much of life as I have." - -Hugh shuddered. The woman was depraved to the core. She could leave her -house in Eaton Place, where she had been installed by her devoted and -trustful husband, and journey down to some obscure eating-house in the -City to meet this criminal who lived upon her bounty. - -Well, the chain of evidence was complete. Bryant would swear to the -identification, and Parkinson would swear that Mrs. Guy Spencer, once -Norah Burton, had met George Burton clandestinely four times in a -fortnight, and had supplied him with money. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -|It was in his blackest and most grim mood that Hugh Murchison walked -to Eaton Place, for the purpose of paying an afternoon call upon Mrs. -Spencer. He had not been near her since the night of the dinner, had -only left cards. And, very fortunately, he had not come across Guy in -the interval. - -On that particular night he had reproached himself with indiscretion. -He had availed himself of Fairfax's information to tax her with meeting -Tommie Esmond at Charing Cross Station on the morning of his flight to -the Continent. - -And at the moment that he had made that dramatic announcement, the -drawing-room door had opened to admit the unsuspecting husband. Hugh had -left shortly after dinner, on the plea of another engagement. Had Mrs. -Spencer tried to take the wind out of his sails by volunteering some -plausible explanation about her meeting with Esmond? She was a clever -young woman; she might try to forestall him. On the other hand, she -might sit tight till he forced her hand. Anyway, he was going to force -it to-day, armed with the new evidence that had been furnished to him. - -Mrs. Spencer was not looking well. Her eyes had lost their brightness, -her once charming smile was forced and mechanical. - -She rose as he was announced, and advanced to him with outstretched -hands, with an exaggerated air of cordiality. - -"I thought you had forgotten us." She seated herself on the Chesterfield -and motioned him to sit beside her. "Major Murchison, I fear I was a -little rude to you the other night, you remember, just before Guy came -in." She clasped her hands nervously together. "I do trust we are going -to be friends." - -Hugh looked at her grimly. He had no compassion for this shameless -adventuress who had driven the poor foolish Pomfret to his grave, who -had ensnared Guy Spencer, a man of stronger fibre, but equally powerless -in the hands of an unscrupulous woman. - -"Mrs. Spencer--to call you by one of the many names by which you are -known--we were not friends the last time I was at this house. To-day we -are bitter enemies." - -"What do you mean?" she faltered. "You are speaking in riddles. Why -should you, the old friend of my husband, be the bitter enemy of his -innocent wife?" - -"His innocent wife!" repeated Hugh sternly. "Dare you look me in the -face and say that my name, even if you fail to recognise me after these -years, does not recall to you certain tragic episodes at Blankfield?" - -"I know nothing of Blankfield." The voice was low but very unsteady. -"You put that question to me the other night in a roundabout sort of -way. My answer is the same--I know nothing of Blankfield." - -There was a long pause. Hugh continued to look at her with his steady -and disconcerting gaze. Suddenly she rose, and paced restlessly up and -down the long drawing-room. - -"Major Murchison, put your cards on the table. You have come into this -house, an old friend of my husband's; I have done my best to make you -welcome. But you have some spite against me. Of what do you accuse me?" - -"I will put my cards on the table," answered Hugh in his inflexible -voice. "On the night I met you at Carlton House Terrace I had my -suspicions; no two women could be so exactly alike. Since that night -I have been picking up information here and there. I have now got a -complete chain of evidence." - -"Evidence of what?" she gasped, still pursuing her restless walk up and -down the room. "Of my having met Tommie Esmond at Charing Cross Station? -would you like to hear the true history of that?" - -"I shall be pleased to hear any explanation you like to offer, with the -reservation that I must please myself as to whether I accept it or not." - -"You are very hard, Major Murchison. As you are not prepared to believe -me, perhaps it would be better if I did not embark on this history. But -Tommie Esmond is really my uncle, my mother's brother. When I was in -low water he was very kind to me. I could not turn my back on him in -his distress." She spoke with sudden passion. "Of course, you, with your -pharisaical way of looking at things, would say I should have forgotten -all his previous kindness." - -"The Tommie Esmond affair is, comparatively, a trivial one, Mrs. -Spencer. I am coming in a moment to graver issues. You still say that -the name of Murchison conveys nothing to you. Oh, think well before you -answer! Remember, I have told you I have overwhelming evidence. And, -believe me, the task I have set out upon is far from a welcome one." - -"I still say that the name of Murchison conveys nothing to me." She -spoke with a certain air of assurance, but he could see that she was -quivering all over. - -"Carry your memory back to that night at Blankfield when your so-called -brother, George Burton, was arrested on a charge of forgery. You had -been his decoy and accomplice in a gambling saloon in Paris. You had -inveigled my poor friend, Jack Pomfret, into a clandestine marriage a -few days before. Jack, unable to survive his folly and disgrace, blew -his brains out. If not in the eyes of the law, you were, morally, a -murderess." - -"You are mad, raving mad!" she cried, but her voice seemed strangled as -she made the bold denial. - -"Not mad, Mrs. Spencer, but very sane, as I will show you in a few -seconds. As I told you, I recognised you that night at the South-leigh -dinner-party, in spite of the pains you had taken to camouflage -yourself. But I waited for corroborative evidence. The detective who -arrested your so-called brother, George Burton, has seen you and is -prepared to swear to your identity as Norah Burton." - -Then suddenly she gave way, fell on her knees before him, and stretched -out appealing hands. - -"Oh, you are very clever; I see you have found it all out. But you will -be merciful, you will not drive an unhappy woman to despair, just when -she has got into safe harbour. Will you be kind enough to listen to my -miserable history?" - -"I will listen to anything you have got to say." - -"My childhood and girlhood were most wretched and unhappy. At a time -when most girls are tasting the sweets and joys of life, I had to live -by my wits. I fell under the influence of a good-natured, but very -wicked man." - -"In other words, George Burton?" queried Hugh. - -"In other words, George Burton," she repeated in the low, strangled -voice that did not move Hugh very much. "I was starving when he met me -and took me up. He was genuinely sorry for me. Mind you, I knew nothing -of his nefarious schemes. He hid those very carefully away from me." - -"But you were his decoy, if not his confederate, in the gambling saloon -in Paris?" - -"His decoy, perhaps, unconsciously, but never his confederate." - -"And when did Tommie Esmond appear on the scene?" queried Hugh. - -"Oh, much later. George got into low water and had not enough for -himself. I then hunted up my uncle, who received me with open arms." - -Hugh was developing the instincts of a crossexaminer. "And Tommie -Esmond, I suppose, introduced you to the card-sharping crew at the -Elsinore flat, and you were launched as the cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange, -who presided over this delectable establishment?" - -"I was a distant cousin of Mrs. L'Estrange on my dear mother's side," -was the answer. - -She was lying terribly, he felt assured. But he had a card or two up his -sleeve yet. Still, it was wise to see how far she would go. - -"And when did you part with the so-called brother, George Burton?" - -"Oh, very shortly after he came out of prison. I had one interview with -him; I could not do less after his kindness to me. And in the meantime I -had hunted up poor old Tommie Esmond." - -"And what did you do after that night at Blankfield? I think you cleared -out the next day. I heard you had paid everything up." - -"Thank Heaven, yes. There was just a little money left. My life after -that was a nightmare. Amongst other humiliations, I was a waitress in -a tea-shop." A smile of vanity broke over the charming face. "The wages -were very small, but I got a lot of tips." Perhaps in this particular -instance she was not lying, if it was true that she had been in a -tea-shop at all. - -There was a little pause, and then Murchison spoke in his stern, -inflexible voice: - -"And how long is it since you saw George Burton?" - -She had answered the question before, but he was hoping to entrap her -into some unguarded admission. He could see that she was considerably -thrown oft her balance, clever and ready as she was, by the extent of -his knowledge. - -"I told you just now, soon after he came out of prison." - -And then Hugh rose in his wrath. And then she, seeing in his face that -he had another and a stronger card to play, got up from her kneeling -position and watched him with an agonised countenance. - -"I am sorry to use such harsh words to a woman, even such a woman as you -are, Mrs. Spencer. But when you say that you are lying miserably, and -you know it as well as I do." Her face went livid. She assumed a tone of -indignation, but her voice died away in a sob. "How dare you say that?" - -"I am not the sort of man to make a statement unless I can prove it up -to the hilt. Your so-called cousin, George Dutton, keeps a bucket-shop -in the City; from certain evidence in my possession, I should say it was -not a very paying business." - -Stella did not attempt to reply to this last shot, but she recognised -that he had gone about the business very thoroughly. - -"George Dutton, the bucket-shop keeper, is George Burton, the forger, -come to life again, still, I take it, on the same criminal tack, perhaps -in a lesser degree. Do you admit," he cried vehemently, "that George -Burton and George Dutton are one and the same?" - -"Yes, since you seem to have proof, I admit it," was the somewhat sullen -answer. - -"That is as well; it clears the ground, up to a certain point. You say -you parted from Burton soon after his release from prison, and have not -seen him since. When was that--how long ago? You met him frequently as -George Dutton at Elsinore Gardens." - -The courage of despair seemed to come to her, and she ceased to tremble. -"I will answer no more questions. Tell me what you allege and I will -admit or deny. Of course, you have employed a detective; you have had me -watched." - -"Of course. I should not presume to cope single-handed with a clever -woman like yourself. You have met George Dutton, alias George Burton, -four times within the last fortnight at obscure restaurants in the City, -and there is a strong presumption that you were handing to him envelopes -containing money." - -She seemed now to recognise that the game was up. Her self-possession -returned to her. She sat down, and motioned to him to seat himself. - -"You are much too clever for me, Major Murchison. You have handled the -matter very well, so well that you have turned your vague suspicions -into absolute certainty. Well, what action are you going to take? As a -matter of course, you intend to turn me out of my husband's house?" - -"If not at the moment, very speedily. You will admit, I think, with -your clever brain, that you should not remain under the roof of such an -honourable English, gentleman as he is a day longer than necessary." - -"I will admit it, from your point of view, if you like. Oh, believe me, -I can see your side," replied this remarkable young woman. "But you will -forgive me, Major Murchison, if I say that, from my point of view, I -would have preferred that you had never been born. Guy is very happy; he -believes in me and trusts me. It will be a great blow to him as to me." - -"I know. I wish it were in my power to spare him this misery. But, in -common honesty, I cannot." - -"And have you thought of what is to become of me when I am turned out of -my husband's house?" she inquired in a composed voice. Her adroit mind -had evidently adapted itself to the altered circumstances, and was now -busied in turning them, as far as possible, to her own advantage. - -"You have George Dutton to fall back upon, also Tommie Esmond," was -Murchison's retort. - -She snapped her fingers in a fashion that was almost vulgar, and she was -so free from vulgar actions. - -"George is thankful that I can, from time to time, fling him a ten-pound -note; his luck has deserted him. Tommie Esmond, I believe, saved a bit -out of the wreck, but he has not more than enough to keep body and soul -together." - -"Guy is not a man to behave ungenerously, however deeply he has been -wronged," said Hugh, after he had reflected a few moments. He added more -hesitatingly, "And if Guy should take an obdurate attitude, it is -possible I might come to your assistance. I have hunted you down, but I -do not want to drive you into the gutter." - -"But a man must support his wife, even if her past has not been quite so -respectable as it might have been," she cried defiantly. - -Hugh directed upon her a searching look. "Mrs. Spencer, it is in my mind -that you may not be Guy's wife after all. If I probed a little deeper, -I might get at your real relations with this George Dutton, or rather -Burton." - -"Oh, this time you are really pursuing a will-o'-the-wisp, I assure -you. George has never been anything to me but brother or cousin, as the -occasion demanded." - -She paused a second, and there was a terrified look in her eyes as she -added, "But even if your suspicions were correct, which they are not, -you would not go back from your own promise. If Guy proved obdurate, you -would not drive me to the gutter. You promised me that." - -"I shall keep my promise, Mrs. Spencer, and I will give it you in -writing, if you wish." - -"It would be as well. And you will want something from me in writing -also, I expect," she concluded shrewdly. - -"Certainly I shall," said Hugh steadily. "I shall draw up a full -confession for you to sign, to prevent you from ever troubling your -husband again--if, as I suggested just now, he is your husband." - -Mrs. Spencer rose. It seemed that there was a sense of relief in the -fact that the interview was ending so amicably. - -"I would have preferred to remain as I am, but, on the whole, the life -doesn't suit me, luxurious as it is. I am very fond of Guy really, he -has been so good to me, but I have alienated him from his friends. And -I have to sit here hour after hour by myself, with only my thoughts for -company." - -"Let us say one week from now I will have that confession ready to -sign." - -"And you will bring it here?" suggested Stella. - -"I think not. It will take some time to read through, and we might be -interrupted," was Hugh's answer. - -"At your hotel, then, I suppose?" was the young woman's next suggestion. - -"The same objection applies." - -He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper. "Meet me there this -day week at the hour I have appointed. Nobody will interrupt us, I will -take care of that." - -And Mrs. Spencer lay awake half the night, working out a problem that -had suggested itself to her in a flash. - -The next day she lunched with George Dutton in the City. The detective -might be watching her, but did it matter? whatever happened at the end -of the week, she had burned her boats. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -|Two months had elapsed since the meeting between Major Murchison and -Stella Spencer, recorded in the last chapter. - -A handsome, well-set-up man of about thirty was travelling up from -Manchester to London. The reason of his journey was his desire to -visit his sister, Caroline Masters, who occupied a small flat in the -neighbourhood of King's Cross. - -Up to a short time ago this handsome, well-set-up man had been leading a -very quiet life in the busy city of Manchester. He was an electrician -by trade, and a very clever one. He was civil, well-spoken, intelligent -beyond his station, but he had not forgathered much with his -fellow-workers, had kept himself very much to himself. And yet, strange -to say, this self-isolation had not provoked suspicion or resentment on -the part of his daily associates. - -Reginald Davis, for such was his name, had been unjustly suspected of -murder, and the police had been hot on his track. Then had come the -suicide in No. 10 Cathcart Square, and his sister, Caroline Masters, had -identified the dead body as that of her brother. - -Caroline Masters had always been a plucky, resourceful girl, and devoted -to him. The dead man, no doubt, bore some resemblance to himself, -and she had taken advantage of the opportunity to swear to a false -identification, and remove from him the sleepless vigilance of the -police. This much she had conveyed to him in a guarded letter. - -Reginald Davis, the man falsely accused of murder, was dead in the eyes -of the law: in a sense, he had nothing further to fear. But at the same -time, caution must be observed. The few friends he had were in London; -at any time he might run across one or more of them. So, taking another -name, he had hidden himself in Manchester, and corresponded secretly -with the one of the two sisters he could trust, Caroline Masters. - -And then, suddenly, the burden had been lifted from his soul. There was -a small paragraph in the evening newspapers, afterwards reproduced in -the morning ones, which told him that he need not skulk through the -world any longer. - -A man lying under sentence of death for a brutal murder and without hope -of reprieve, had confessed to the crime of which Davis had been falsely -accused. In the paragraph, which was, of course, essentially the same -in all the papers, were a few words of sympathy for the unfortunate -Reginald Davis who had stolen into No. 10 Cathcart Square and committed -suicide, under a sense of abject terror. The police had carefully -investigated the statements of the condemned man, with the result that -they found the late Reginald Davis absolutely innocent. - -The late Reginald Davis, very alive and well, knocked at the door of -his sister's flat. She had been apprised of his coming, and greeted him -affectionately. She sat him down before a well-cooked supper. He was -hungry and ate heartily. She did not disturb him with much conversation -till he had finished. Then she spoke. - -"Well, Reggie, that was a bit of luck indeed." She was, of course, -alluding to the confession of the real murderer. "Now you are as free as -air. You were always a bit of a bad egg, old boy, but never a criminal -to that extent." - -"No, hang it all, I am not particular in a general way, but murder -was not in my line," he answered briefly. "It was hard lines to get -scot-free of the other things, and then to be suspected of that at the -end." - -He looked at her admiringly. "By Jove! Carrie, you were always the -cleverest of the lot of us. That was a brain-wave of yours, walking in -and identifying me as the suicide." Mrs. Masters smiled appreciatively. -"Yes, it came to me in a flash. I read the account in the papers. It -struck me I might do something useful. I went up to the court with the -tale of a missing brother. I saw the body; the poor creature might have -been your twin. Of course, I swore it was you, and gave you a new lease -of life." She added severely, "I hope you have taken advantage of what -I did, and become a reformed character." Davis spoke very gravely. "Yes, -Carrie, I swear to you I have. That shock was the making of me. I have -lain very low, worked hard, and put by money." - -He pulled out an envelope from his breastpocket, and thrust it into her -hand; it was full of one-pound notes. - -"Fifty of the best, old girl, for a little nest-egg. I have not -forgotten my best pal, you see." - -The tears came into Mrs. Masters' eyes. He had been a bad egg, but he -had a good heart at bottom. - -"That is very sweet of you, Reggie; it will come in very useful. And now -to go back for a moment to Cathart Square. Who was the poor devil -who killed himself there? He was as like you as two peas are like each -other." - -"I think we have got to find that out," said Reginald Davis gravely. -"Nor, reading the account in the papers, am I quite sure that it was a -suicide." - -"But that was the verdict," interrupted the sister. - -"I know, but there are peculiar things about the case. Letters addressed -to Reginald Davis were found on him; there was a letter signed Reginald -Davis, addressed to the Coroner, announcing his intention to commit -suicide. Those letters had been placed there by the person who murdered -him, and that person who murdered him was somebody who knew me, unless -it was the accidental taking of a common name." - -"But the razor was clutched in his hand, Reggie!" - -"Quite easy," replied Davis, who, if not a murderer himself, could -easily project himself, apparently, into the mind of one. "We will -assume, for the moment, it was a man. He cut the poor devil's throat, -and then thrust the razor into his stiffening hand, to convey the idea -of suicide." - -"It might be," agreed Mrs. Masters. - -"Well, Carrie, one thing I have fixed on, and it is one of the things -for which I have come up. I go to Scotland Yard to-morrow, tell them -straight I am Reginald Davis, without a stain upon my character, explain -to them that you were misled by a close resemblance. We will have that -body exhumed. I am firmly convinced it was a murder." - -"Let sleeping dogs lie, Reggie," advised Mrs. Masters, who had a horror -of the law and its subtle ways. "Never mind who was the poor devil who -was found there, whether he was murdered or committed suicide. It is no -affair of yours." - -"It is an affair of mine in this way," replied Davis in a dogged tone. -"The person who murdered the poor devil, as you call him, knew something -about me, and took a liberty with my name." - -"It served you a good turn, Reggie, anyway." - -"I know; I admit that. But the murderer did not know he was doing me, -thanks to you, a good turn when he killed the other fellow." - -Mrs. Masters thought deeply for a few moments. "Reggie, you have been a -very bad egg, I am sure. I shall never guess a quarter of what you have -been guilty of." - -He laid his hand affectionately on her arm. "Well for you, old girl, you -can't. That is all past and done with. By the way, that letter found on -the poor chap, announcing his intention to commit suicide, did they ask -you to identify my handwriting? Of course, the others addressed to him -didn't matter much. Anybody could have written them. But my letter was a -forgery. Did they ask you to identify that particular letter?" - -"They did, Reggie, and my brain was in such a whirl that I could hardly -read it. I said that I believed it was in your handwriting. It was -certainly very like, although, as you can imagine, I looked at it -through a sort of mist. Anyway, it was as like your handwriting as the -dead man was like you." Davis ruminated for a few moments. "That letter -was forged by somebody who knew me and could imitate my hand to a -nicety. I am thinking of all the wrong'uns I knew in the old days. I -think I can fix him." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Masters breathlessly. She was capable of great daring -in the cause and the service of those she loved, but she was not -habituated to the ways of hardened criminals. - -"A man I was a bit associated with in the old days; luckily he didn't -drag me in far enough. He was an expert forger. We used to call him -'George the Penman.'" - -Mrs. Masters shuddered. "Oh, you poor weak soul, you were so near it as -that?" - -"Very near, Carrie. The shock of the false accusation of murder pulled -me up straight. I saw where I was drifting, and made up my mind that -the straight path was the surest." At the moment that Mr. Davis gave -utterance to this honourable sentiment there was a ring at the bell. - -Mrs. Masters rose at once. "It is Iris. I dropped her a note to say you -were coming. She will be so pleased to see you." - -There floated into the small sitting-room a very dainty and ethereal -figure, Miss Iris Deane, a charming member of the chorus at the -Frivolity Theatre. - -She flung her arms round the neck of her handsome brother. "Oh Reggie, -dear, what a treat to see you! And all this dreadful thing is lifted -from you." - -Iris was not his favourite sister. She was clever in a worldly way, and -had made good. But she had not the sterling loyalty of Caroline. - -Davis gently checked her enthusiasm. "And how have you been getting on, -Iris? Always floating on the top as usual?" - -Miss Iris showed her dimples. "Always floating on the top, as you -say, dear old boy. A silly, soft chap fell in love with me; wrote most -impassioned love-letters. Well, he was too soppy for me to care much -about him, and when his rich brother came along, offering me a price for -his love-letters, I can tell you I just jumped at the chance." - -"Did you get a good price?" queried her brother. - -"I stuck out for ten thousand," explained the capable Iris; "but this -chap was a good bargainer, and I let them go at seven. It was better on -the whole. If I had married Roddie, I should have been so fed-up in a -month that I should have run away from him, and then Heaven knows where -I might have ended." - -Davis looked at his sister approvingly. There was enough of the old Adam -left in him to entertain a slight envy of his sister's chances. Seven -thousand pounds, a little fortune in itself, was a good bit of work, a -handsome reward for the display of her dimples. - -"Roddie who, dear? You might tell us his other name," queried Mrs. -Masters, who perhaps was also smitten with a sense of envy. - -"That's telling," answered the sprightly Iris, who was not given to be -too frank about her own affairs. "But if either of you two dear things -want a little ready, apply to me. Of course, you will remember I have -got to take care of myself, to make provision for my old age." - -Davis and Carrie exchanged glances. They knew the volatile Iris of old. -As a child she had always been mean and grasping. Not much of the seven -thousand would come their way, if they were on the verge of starvation. - -Carrie spoke in cold accents. "You are really too generous, Iris. But -we shall not have to trespass upon your generosity. I have enough for my -humble wants. And Reggie has been able to put by, so much so that he has -been kind enough to make me a very handsome money present to-night." - -"Dear old Reggie," said the sweetly smiling Iris. "I am so glad you have -made good." - -And then Davis spoke: "Thanks, in great part, to Carrie, who told that -splendid lie about the suicide, or murder, at 10 Cathcart Square. You -remember that, of course?" - -"Suicide, wasn't it?" said Iris, but her cheek had grown a little pale. - -"I don't think so. There was a forged letter purporting to be written by -me. I am going to Scotland Yard to-morrow, stating frankly who I am, -and urging them to exhume the body. We will find out who the man, buried -under the name of Reginald Davis, really was." - -And then the agitation of his younger sister became extreme. She -clutched convulsively at his arm. - -"Reggie, you will not do this. What does it matter to you who the man -was? Go under some other name, and let sleeping dogs lie." Unconsciously -she had used the same expression as Mrs. Masters, but from different -motives. - -"I have been under a different name for a longer time than I care to -remember," answered Davis doggedly. "I have a fancy to resume my own, -and make a clean breast of it to the police. They have nothing else to -charge me with." - -Iris fell on her knees, and the tears rained down her cheeks. - -"For my sake, Reggie, if not for your own." - -"And why for your sake? Tell us what you mean," demanded her brother -sternly. - -And Iris spoke as clearly as she could speak amidst her strangled sobs. - -"If you try and unearth that mystery at Cathcart Square, I might be -dragged in, and it might be very awkward for me." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -|Davis directed a keen glance at his elder sister over the bowed head of -Iris. The younger woman was by no means of an emotional nature. Light, -frivolous and volatile, she had danced through life, and, on the whole, -had had a good time. One could not picture her in a tragic mood. - -And yet, she was the personification of deep emotion now. She could -hardly speak for those convulsive sobs, and in her frightened eyes -there was a deep and haunting terror. At what point, and through what -circumstances, had tragedy touched this little selfish, self-centred -butterfly, gifted with a certain amount of cunning and sharpness, but -utterly brainless. - -"What do you know of No. 10 Cathcart Square, except what you gleaned -from the newspapers?" demanded her brother sternly. "How can you be -implicated in the murder of the unknown man whom Carrie mistook for me?" - -"But Carrie did not mistake him for you," wailed Iris. "She told me -afterwards that the idea suggested itself in a flash, and when she -read the newspaper she was not sure whether it was you who had crept in -there, according to the evidence, and made away with yourself, through -fear of the police." - -"Leave Carrie out of it for the moment," said Davis. "Whatever she did -was well thought out. Of course, we both know her object was to identify -me, if possible, and put Scotland Yard off the scent. What we want to -know is, how did you come to be acquainted with the house? what do you -mean by saying that, if further investigations are made, you might be -dragged in?" - -"I was there on four occasions: on the last a few days before the -murder, or suicide, whatever it was." - -Davis gasped, and Carrie lifted her hands in horror. What did this -confession mean? It was impossible that this slim, weak girl had herself -been the murderess, could have killed a big, powerful man of the same -build as the supposed Davis, with those slim, weak hands. - -She saw the horror in their faces, and hastened to reassure them. "Oh -no, not that, I swear to you. I am no more a murderess than you were a -murderer, Reggie. But if the whole thing is raked up, and the man whom -I believe it to be, accurately identified this time, things might look -very black for me." - -Davis lifted her from her kneeling position, and placed her in an -easy-chair. "Calm yourself, and tell us the whole story of why and how -you came to be in Cathcart Square at all." - -Iris waited a few moments till the convulsive sobbing ceased. She spoke -with little occasional gasps, but it was very evident it was a relief to -unbosom herself. - -"It is a very long story," she began tremulously. - -"If the telling of it lasts till midnight, we must have it," said her -brother in an inflexible voice. - -And compelled by his resolute manner, the girl, whom they had always -regarded as a frivolous butterfly, embarked upon her strange and -thrilling narrative. - -"It all arose out of the sale of those letters I spoke to you about. -Carrie just now asked me the name of the man who wrote them. Well, I -didn't get further than Roddie, which doesn't carry you very far. If it -had not been for your threat of going to Scotland Yard, I should have -stopped at that. A still tongue makes a wise head, you know." - -They could quite believe that. In spite of her ceaseless chatter, Iris -had always been very reticent about her own affairs. She had seen next -to nothing of her brother for a few years, not very much of Carrie -Masters. And, on these occasions, she had always avoided, in a marked -manner, any allusion to her private affairs. - -"I told you of a soppy young chap who started to make love to me last -year. I didn't care a snap for him, but he was very persistent, and at -last wrote me most urgent letters imploring me to be his wife. His full -name was Roderick Murchison, a member of the great brewing family; his -father has been dead for some time, he died during the war, and Roddie -came in for tons of money, although he was not the eldest son. I don't -know if you have ever heard of him?" - -No, neither Davis nor Carrie had known of the existence of such a young -man. They had a hazy idea that there was a big brewing firm of that -name, that was all. - -"Well, as I say, I didn't care a snap for him, although he was awfully -good and generous, overwhelmed me with, all kinds of lovely presents: -rings, bracelets, fur coats, etc. In our life, you know, one accepts -these things from the mugs who are gone on us without attaching very -much importance to the fact." - -It was evident that Miss Iris had struck out her own line of life, and -made a very good thing out of it. - -"Well, then, Roddie began to grow desperate, and declared he couldn't -live without me. It was all so genuine that at last I began to think -seriously of it. There were tons of money, and although I didn't cotton -much to the sort of life I should have to lead as his wife, still there -were worse things than being Mrs. Roderick Murchison, with the future -well assured, and a handsome settlement." - -Davis and his elder sister exchanged wondering glances. So this -butterfly little girl, whom they had always regarded as rather shallow -and feather-brained, had had this wonderful chance of marrying a -gentleman and a rich man. - -"It was difficult to bring myself up to the scratch, in spite of the -advantages, for he was so soft and soppy that he irritated me in a -thousand-and-one ways, and I knew in a very short time I should grow to -hate and despise him. Then one night, after a very excellent champagne -supper at the 'Excelsior,' he got me in a yielding mood, and I promised -to marry him." - -Brother and sister could only marvel at the girl's extraordinary good -fortune, reluctant as she seemed to avail herself of it. - -"He told me that before he went to bed that night he wrote to his family -acquainting them with the news, anticipating fully their objections, -but expressing his strong determination to brook no interference or -remonstrance. You see he was his own master, nobody could take his money -away from him, and he didn't care whether his relatives were offended or -not." - -"And how did the family take it?" queried Davis. - -"I am coming to that," replied Iris. She was growing much calmer now. It -was a relief to unburden her secret to an audience whom she could trust. -For she was sure that neither her brother nor sister would ever allow -her to put herself into real danger. - -"I am coming to that," she repeated. "A few days after he had written -those letters, one to his widowed mother, one to his elder brother, who -had inherited the bulk of the big fortune, the elder brother called upon -me in my flat. He was a very handsome, well-set-up man, although he had -been through a good deal in the war. He was very like you, Reggie." - -"Ah," ejaculated Mr. Davis. He looked at Carrie, keenly watching her -sister, with a glance that suggested they would soon be coming to the -real pith of this rambling confession. - -"He begged the favour of a short conversation. He was perfectly open and -above-board. He told me straight he was Roddie's elder brother, and that -his name was Hugh Murchison. He pointed out to me very kindly that -his brother was an impetuous young ass--a judgment which I privately -endorsed--that Roddie had been infatuated, in his short day, with quite -a number of other girls, although, perhaps, not to the same extent -as with me." Iris, getting back rapidly into her light mind, let her -volatile and easily impressed nature peep out in her next words. - -"Oh, Hugh Murchison was a darling, so quiet, so sensible, and so strong. -If he had been fool enough to ask me to marry him, I would not have -given him up for seven thousand pounds." - -"But you were prepared to chuck Roddie for that?" suggested her brother -quietly. - -"I think I let him go a bit too cheap," answered the fair Iris in -a reflective voice. "Many girls have got more than I asked for -compromising a breach of promise. But to tell the absolute truth, Hugh -Murchison hypnotised me a bit. He was so quiet and yet so strong that I -felt he could twist me round his little finger." - -"We want to get to Cathcart Square," interjected Davis a little -impatiently. "We don't seem to be near it yet." - -"I must tell my story my own way, it is no use driving me," replied -Iris, pouting a little. "Well, as I tell you, he called that day at my -flat--that was the beginning of negotiations. Where were we to meet -to discuss details? I couldn't have him at my flat, because Roddie was -always popping in and out. He couldn't have me at his hotel, because -nobody knew whom we might come across, and Roddie was always coming -there. He said he would think out a plan and telephone or wire me." - -"Ah," said Carrie, with a sigh of relief: she was a very practical -person. "Now, I suppose we are coming to it." - -Iris, heedless of the interruption, went on with her story. - -"Next day he 'phoned me up, and after ascertaining that I was quite -alone, told me to meet him at 10 Cathcart Square to resume our -conversation." - -"Why, in the name of all that is wonderful----" began Reginald Davis, -but his sister motioned him to silence. - -"Don't interrupt, please, you will know everything in a few minutes. I -went to No. 10 Cathcart Square at the time appointed. He opened the -door himself. It was a big house in an old-fashioned square, ages old, I -should say, and in the front court was an agent's board, intimating that -this particular house was to let, furnished." - -"I know Cathcart Square well, it's in an old-world quarter of -Kensington," interrupted Davis. He added grimly, "I know it well, -although I did not have the misfortune to commit suicide there." - -"He told me a very funny story. The afternoon of the day before, he had -been up to Kensington to visit an old nurse of the family who lived -near by. He had strolled round to Cathcart Square to fill up an idle -half-hour. He had been struck by the appearance of the house, and -loitered before it, when suddenly the door opened, and a somewhat -bibulous-looking caretaker came out." - -Davis indulged in a sigh of relief. "We are really coming to it now, -then?" - -"Yes, you are coming to it. He told me a sudden idea had occurred to -him. Here would be a quiet little spot for our meetings, a place where -Roddie would never dream of following us. He accosted the caretaker, -evidently a drunken and corrupt creature. He explained that he wanted to -rent a couple of rooms where he could receive a certain visitor he was -expecting in the course of the next week or fortnight. It was no -use going to the house agents for that, they would turn down such a -proposition. The caretaker, with a couple of five-pound notes in his -hand, took an intelligent view of the situation. He gave Hugh a key, -and intimated that, if he had sufficient notice, he would make himself -scarce on the occasions when the visitor was expected." - -"Of all the mad things----" began Davis, but his sister for the second -time motioned her brother to silence. - -"Not quite so mad as you think. I fancy I can see into his mind. We -could have met at a dozen different restaurants in London, but Roddie -was here, there and everywhere: at any moment he might have come across -us. He would never get as far as Kensington." David nodded his sagacious -head. "I think I see. Go on." - -"I met him there, in all four times, the last meeting was a few days -before the tragedy." - -"And what took place at that meeting?" - -"He paid me the seven thousand pounds in notes. I signed a paper -agreeing to give Roddie up. I carried out my bargain. I wrote Roddie -that same night, giving him his dismissal, and assuring him that nothing -he could urge would induce me to reconsider my determination. He sent me -frantic telegrams the next day, but I replied to the same effect. After -taking his seven thousand pounds, I could not break faith with Hugh, -could I?" - -Davis was not quite sure that Iris would not break faith with anybody if -it suited her purpose. But clearly Hugh Murchison had subjugated her to -the extent of respecting an honourable bargain. No doubt she had fallen -in love with him, so far as a person of her shallow temperament could -fall in love. - -"And what has become of Roddie?" - -"I don't know, and I don't care. He has bored me to extinction for over -nine months. I am glad to be shut of him." - -Davis put a question. "You say Hugh Murchison paid you in notes. What -have you done with them? His bank will have the numbers." - -"Will they?" cried Iris, the frightened look again coming into her eyes; -she knew nothing of business methods. "I paid them into my own account. -Now, you see, if you rake this up I might be implicated." - -"Your opinion is, then, that the man found in No. 10 Cathcart Square was -Hugh Murchison?" - -"I am as nearly sure as I can be, after reading the caretaker's -evidence. He had some other stunt on beside my own. I was not the only -visitor he received." - -Davis thought deeply before he spoke. "If I have him dug up, and he is -identified by those who know him, a lot will come to light. Your notes -will be traced, for one thing." - -"I am afraid of everything, Reggie. For the love of Heaven, let him rest -where he is." Caroline Masters breathed softly to herself. "You were -half in love with him, or perhaps three-quarters, and you don't want to -know the real truth. Oh, you miserable little, paltry soul!" - -And then a sudden thought came to Davis. "Now, Iris, you could never -think very clearly about things when they got a little bit complicated. -You are quite sure the last occasion on which you saw him was a few days -before the discovery of the body?" - -"I will swear to it," cried Iris firmly. - -"The date of his cheque, which the Bank has, will show that. He probably -cashed it himself on the day he paid you, any way the day before. Now, -on the day preceding and the day following that tragedy, can you prove -where you were?" - -Iris began to see light. "Of course I can. The day after I had the -notes, I got up a sprained ankle, an obliging doctor, an old (or rather -young) friend of mine, sent a certificate to the theatre. I motored down -to Brighton with Johnny Lascelles--who, by the way, used to make Roddie -fearfully jealous. We joined a jolly little party at 'The Old Ship.' I -came back the day after the discovery in Cathcart Square." - -Davis rose and gave a great shout: "You have witnesses who can swear to -that?" - -"Of course," answered Iris, not even yet comprehending the full drift of -the question. "Johnny Lascelles motored me there and drove me back. Then -there was Cissy Monteith, Katie Havard, Jack Legard and others who were -with me all the time." - -"You silly little idiot," cried Reginald Davis. "And what the deuce do -you mean by saying that you might be implicated?" - -"The notes," she faltered. "My meeting him alone in that empty house. -They might suggest I murdered him, if you say he was murdered." - -Davis smote his forehead in impotent anger at her denseness. "How could -you have murdered him when you were at Brighton all the time?" - -He smote the palms of his hands together. - -"I will find out who the dead man was, and also the man who forged my -name to that letter to the Coroner." - -He turned to his sister: "As for you, young woman, it may be you will -have a bad quarter of an hour, if it all comes out about Roddie. But -never mind, you will have a splendid advertisement. The next bunch of -letters you get hold of, the price will be twice seven thousand pounds." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -|The following morning Reginald Davis, resolved to unearth the mystery -of 10 Cath-cart Square, stood in the private room of Mr. Bryant of -Scotland Yard. - -He had easily overcome his younger sister's scruples, her terror at -having to give evidence in a court of justice, and being forced to -disclose certain transactions not too creditable to herself. She had -come to see from the point of view artfully suggested by Davis, that, on -the whole, it would be a very good advertisement. It might even take -her from her place in the chorus to a small acting part, and then her -fortune would be made. She might be able to come across another rich man -whom she would like well enough to marry, a man quite different from the -somewhat invertebrate Roddie. - -Bryant looked up from his papers, and regarded the young man with his -keen and steady gaze. Davis's good looks, and frank air impressed him -favourably. - -"Well, my man, what do you want with me? I don't usually see strangers -who approach me in such a mysterious fashion. You would neither state -your name nor business, only said vaguely that you wanted to interview -me on a matter of great urgency." - -"I wished to keep my business for your private ear, sir. Can you throw -your mind back to a certain gruesome affair that happened at 10 Cathcart -Square?" - -"Certainly, although I was not in charge of the matter. The man was -identified as Reginald Davis, who was wanted on a charge of murder, -the circumstantial evidence against him being very strong; the verdict -returned was one of suicide. If I recollect rightly, he had broken a -pane of glass in one of the back windows of the house, unhasped the -latch of the window, and cut his throat upstairs after he got inside. -The facts were accepted at the time as conclusive evidence of his -guilt." - -"And you recollect, sir, what happened a short time ago with regard to -the crime of which Reginald Davis was accused?" - -"Perfectly. The real criminal has confessed. And this poor devil, -overwhelmed no doubt by the circumstantial evidence which told so -strongly against him, acted too hastily." - -"If the police had caught him, he would probably have been hanged by -now," said Davis a little bitterly. - -Mr. Bryant looked a little uneasy. "I should say it is more than -probable from what I remember of the case; well, you know, the law makes -mistakes at times, I will admit." - -"And juries at inquests make mistakes at times, also," remarked Davis -quietly. "This particular jury made a mistake. The dead man was no more -Reginald Davis than you are." - -It was not easy to startle Mr. Bryant, he had been through too many -strange experiences for that, but he exhibited a mild surprise as he put -the question: "And what authority have you for saying that?" - -"I think you will admit the best. I who stand before you am the Reginald -Davis who was wanted on that false charge of murder, and branded by that -intelligent jury as a suicide." - -"You can prove this, of course. I mean that you are the real Reginald -Davis." - -"Of course I can, sir; I can bring a dozen witnesses, if necessary, half -of whom have known me since a boy." - -Needless to say that a man of Bryant's experience did not, as a rule, -believe one quarter of what he was told. But this man's face--this man's -tones--convinced him that he was listening to the truth. - -He rose from his chair. "Wait here a moment, please, while I hunt up the -particulars of this case. As I told you just now, I was not in charge of -it, and I should like to refresh my memory as to certain details." - -He came back after a few moments. "I know it all now, from A to Z. -You were identified by a married sister, a Mrs. Masters, who gave some -details of your career, which did not seem to have been a very healthy -one. She was also shown a letter which you were supposed to have written -to the Coroner, and she believed it to be in your handwriting. This -wants some explanation, I think, Mr. Davis, to call you by the name -which you say is your right one." - -"Quite so, sir," answered Reginald composedly. "It certainly requires -a good deal of explanation, but if you will listen to me with a little -patience, I think I can convince you that the thing is more natural than -it appears." The Inspector threw himself back in his chair: "I have no -doubt it was your sister who identified you, but how did she come to -mistake the actual suicide for you?" - -And Mr. Davis gave the explanation which Bryant might believe or not, or -believe in part, as he chose. - -"My sister Caroline was deeply attached to me. She was in despair when -she heard that I was suspected of murder, and was being hunted by the -police. As day after day, week after week, went by, and there was no -news of my capture, she got it firmly fixed in her mind that I had -committed suicide. She hunted the newspapers every morning to find some -paragraph that would confirm her fears. And then one day she read about -what had happened at Cathcart Square." - -Mr. Bryant was now deeply interested. He leaned forward in his chair, -and his attitude betokened his eagerness. - -"It is possible that her mind had become a little unhinged by her -anxiety. She expected to find me, and she found a man who might have -passed for my twin brother. So she tells me now that I have revealed -myself, for, of course, I lay very low until this belated confession of -the real murderer." - -Bryant only made a brief comment on this particular portion of the -narrative which Davis was twisting about with some skill. Of course, -Mrs. Masters had not been deceived by the accidental resemblance, but in -pretending to be she had given that brother a new lease of life. - -"You say that the man was so like you that the sister, who had known you -from childhood, was ready to swear he was her brother?" - -"There is no doubt, sir, that at the time her mind was clouded. She went -there expecting to find me, and as a not altogether unnatural result, -she found what she expected." - -"We will let that pass," said the Inspector drily. "No doubt, under -extraordinary circumstances, strange hallucinations are apt to occur. It -was very fortunate for you that your sister made that mistake, and that -it was accepted. As you admitted just now, if you had been caught and -tried it would have gone very hardly with you." - -Whatever Bryant thought in his own mind, it was evident that he was -prepared to admit that Mrs. Masters had acted in good faith when she -swore that the dead man was her brother. Davis could see there would be -no trouble on that score. - -"Now we come to the letter," pursued Davis. "I questioned my sister very -closely about that last night. She says she was so overwhelmed with the -discovery that she read that letter through a mist, as it were, but she -is positive that it closely resembled my handwriting." - -"Another hallucination, I suppose, or an accidental resemblance. Well, -if you will leave a specimen of your own caligraphy with us, we can -compare them," said Bryant. - -"And I suppose, sir, you will have the body exhumed, for the purpose of -discovering who the man really was?" - -"I suppose so," replied the Inspector a little unwillingly. "Although -I don't expect we shall ever find out. Nobody came forward at the time -when your sister made that mistake. Is it likely anybody will come -forward now? Some poor derelict, weary of life I suppose, without kith -or kin to claim him at the end. There are scores of suicides in the -year, Mr. Davis, who are buried unidentified." - -He added, after a moment's pause: "Of course, before taking any such -steps, we must formally prove, from unimpeachable testimony, that not -only are you Reginald Davis, but the particular Reginald Davis who was -falsely accused of murder." - -"I quite understand," answered Davis a little stiffly. "Before I -leave this room, I will indicate the quarters where you can obtain the -information you want." - -"Then, when I have verified that, I will ask you to come and see me -again." Bryant's manner as he said these words, indicated that the -interview was at an end. - -But Davis kept his seat, he had not finished yet. - -"May I take the liberty of detaining you for a few moments longer, sir, -to impress upon you the importance of having that body exhumed? You may -be correct in your theory it is that of some poor derelict, but I have a -different theory altogether." - -The Inspector looked sharply at him, and drew a deep breath. "Ah, then, -you have some knowledge of something: your visit to me has been leading -up to this, eh?" - -"No actual knowledge, sir, but a surmise that has, I venture to think, -some foundation. I have two sisters. The elder one I have already spoken -of to you." - -There was a slight note of sarcasm in the Inspector's voice as he -replied, "Yes, Mrs. Masters, whose fortunate mistake was of such -excellent service to you, during the time you were waiting for the real -criminal's confession." Davis did not suffer himself to resent this. -Of course, a man of the world like Bryant did not believe in this -camouflaged story. Mrs. Masters was a clever young woman, and had -taken advantage of an accidental resemblance to get her brother out of -jeopardy. - -"My other sister, Iris Deane, is in the chorus of the Frivolity Theatre. -I don't suppose you have ever heard of her?" - -Mr. Bryant shook his head. He knew a great deal about all classes of -criminals, but young ladies in the chorus of the Frivolity, or any other -theatre, were not in his line. - -"She was at Mrs. Masters's house last night. She came over especially -to welcome me, on my reintroduction to the world which I was supposed -to have quitted. She made to us a very startling confession, and that -confession is intimately associated with the events at Cathcart Square." - -And this time, Bryant was genuinely surprised, and was at no pains to -conceal it. Reginald Davis--he was beginning to believe in the man's -identity now--was evidently a member of a very remarkable family. - -"You astound me, Mr. Davis. Yourself and both your sisters mixed up with -what happened there! It sounds like a romance. Pray proceed!" - -Davis told the story as Iris had told him, carefully concealing the -names of the two men concerned in it for the moment. He was careful -to point out that on the night of the suicide she could establish a -complete and unquestioned alibi. - -Bryant turned on him sharply. "It occurs to me that you don't think it -was a suicide, Mr. Davis." - -"I don't, sir, and at present I can't quite tell you why." - -"But you must have some reason for thinking that," said Bryant in the -same sharp tone. - -"My only reason is this--if the man who was buried under the name of -Reginald Davis is the man I believe him to be, there was no earthly -reason why he should commit suicide. To the best of my belief, he was -murdered for some motive that I cannot guess, and the murderer, after -cutting his throat, put the razor in his stiffening hand." - -"It is a theory worth thinking about," said Bryant, who was beginning to -appreciate his visitor very much. "And now, Mr. Davis, the name of the -man whom your sister met in the empty house?" - -"I have kept that to the last, to surprise you. You will know the name, -but I don't suppose you ever came across the man. It was Major Hugh -Murchison." - -At this startling announcement, the Inspector literally jumped from his -chair. - -"But I do know Major Hugh Murchison," he cried. "He was in my office not -so very long ago. Let me see, when was it?" - -He turned to his diary and verified the date, and gave it to Reginald -Davis. It was longer back than he thought. - -"And you have not seen him since that day?" - -"No," answered the Inspector. "Wait a moment till I ring up my friend -Parkinson. I couldn't undertake the job he called on, as it was quite a -private matter. I handed it over to Parkinson." - -He rang up his old friend and former colleague. Davis could gather -enough from the conversation on Bryant's side to be sure that a -considerable interval had elapsed since Parkinson had seen his client. - -Bryant sat down in his chair. "Mr. Davis, I cannot say how much obliged -I am to you for your visit, and the information you have given me. Now, -I know a great deal more than you do about the proceedings and movements -of Major Murchison, I know on what business he was engaged, in addition -to that little matter of your sister's. I will go into the inquiries -concerning yourself, and please hold yourself at my disposal, give me an -address where I can communicate with you readily." - -Davis did so, and said good-bye to the Inspector. - -After he had left, Bryant gave instructions he was not to be disturbed -for an hour. And during that hour he did the hardest bit of thinking he -had ever done in his life. - -And now that Davis had mentioned it, the man did bear a superficial -resemblance to Hugh Murchison. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -|It was a very hard nut he had to crack. Thanks to his peculiar -position, he was in possession of reliable and exclusive information -from more than one quarter. He held several threads in his capable -hands, but would he be able to weave them into a net wide enough for his -purpose? - -His recent interview with Davis had established the fact that four -persons were connected with the mystery of Cathcart Square--Davis -himself, Caroline Masters (the elder sister), Iris Deane (the younger -sister), and, most important of all, Hugh Murchison. - -He dismissed, for the moment, the first three from his mind. But Hugh -Murchison, with his resemblance to Reginald Davis, was the connecting -link between them and another set of actors. - -Murchison had consulted him with the view of identifying Mrs. Spencer -and George Dutton with the Norah and George Burton of those far-off days -at Blankfield, and he had identified them as the same persons. He had -then handed over the Major to the astute Parkinson, who would find out -as much as he could with regard to the present relations between the -precious pair. - -Bryant had been very busy of late, and he had almost dismissed the -Murchison episode from his mind. But when the Major had completed his -investigations he would undoubtedly take steps to turn such a scheming -and unscrupulous adventuress out of her husband's house. As to the way -in which he would proceed to accomplish that purpose, Bryant, of course, -had no knowledge. Neither did he know which Murchison would approach -first, the husband or the wife. Perhaps both together. - -One thing stood out pretty clearly, from the evidence of Iris Deane, -that she had met Murchison alone at the house in Cathcart Square a few -days before the discovery of the dead body. - -Another thing also stood out equally clearly, that the dead man bore a -remarkable likeness to Reginald Davis. If not, Caroline Masters would -not have dared to perjure herself as she had done. And he himself had -recognised the superficial resemblance between the two men. - -Assuming that it was a murder, and not a suicide, and Bryant was -beginning to incline, like Davis, to the former theory, why had the -murderer fixed upon the name of Reginald Davis, and forged a letter -to the Coroner? He must have been somebody who had known Davis at some -time, and was acquainted with his handwriting. Like Caroline Masters, he -must have been inclined to do the hunted fugitive a good turn, and have -trusted to his gratitude to keep a silent tongue. - -An hour's steady thinking had cleared his brain. The conclusions -he arrived at were as follows: Hugh Murchison had been murdered by -somebody, and buried as a suicide under the name of Reginald Davis. -The next question was who was the murderer, and what was the motive -for committing the murder? Here he could make a pretty shrewd guess. If -Murchison had gone about his mission in a straightforward, but rather -blundering, fashion the motive was clear enough. - -With Bryant to think was to act. Davis was having a week's holiday in -London, staying with his sister, Mrs. Masters. That same afternoon the -young man was again in the Inspector's room, in response to an urgent -summons on the telephone. - -"Now, Mr. Davis, I have been thinking deeply over this rather -complicated affair of Cathcart Square, and I am beginning to see a -streak or two of daylight. I told you this morning I know a bit more -about Major Murchison than you do, and there is just a chance you might -help me. I take it you have had a somewhat adventurous career, your -sister admitted as much at the inquest. She said in fact that you had -been the black sheep of the family." - -Davis hung his head in a shame-faced fashion. "I have to admit it, sir. -It's no use attempting to deny it, when Carrie gave me away like that." - -"I have no desire to pry into your past, except so far as it helps me in -my present quest. But I expect, in your time, you have associated with -a few undesirable characters." Reginald Davis admitted the fact quite -frankly. - -"Now, of course, it is only just a chance. But did you ever come across -a man named George Burton, and a young woman who passed as his sister? -My first knowledge of them is that they ran a gambling saloon in -Paris, she a good-looking girl, acting as decoy. Then he quitted the -card-sharping game and went in for more criminal pursuits." - -"I did know them, sir. If I tell you what I do know, am I letting myself -in for anything?" queried Mr. Davis cautiously. "You see, since that -awful thing happened, I have turned over a new leaf. Nobody could tempt -me to go the least bit on the crook." - -"Make your mind quite easy, Davis. We have nothing against you. You know -that, or you would have hardly dared to come to life again." - -"Well, sir, I did know George Burton pretty intimately at one time, -after he left Paris. He was in the forgery business and he tried to drag -me in, but I was clever enough to keep out of it. They used, in his own -set, to call him 'George the Penman.'" - -"Good," said Bryant; "and what did you know about the girl?" - -"Not very much, sir. She passed as his sister, but one or two of his -pals believed her to be his wife, although there was no evidence of it." - -"Did you ever learn anything of her origin?" - -"Well, one chap who seemed to know more about them than their other -pals, told me that she was by way of being a lady, the illegitimate -daughter of a man well-known in London Society." - -"Do you know the name of the man?" - -Davis tapped his forehead in the effort of recollection. - -"It's on the tip of my tongue, sir: it will come to me in a moment--a -man who was mixed up in a gambling scandal, and had to leave the -country. Ah, I have got it now, he was known familiarly as Tommie -Esmond." - -Mr. Bryant rose. He had got all he could out of his new acquaintance. -The threads in his hand were drawing closer into a web. - -"Well, Mr. Davis, good-day. Many thanks for the information you have -given me, it has been very helpful. I will keep in touch with you." - -"And you think, with me, it was a murder, and not a suicide?" questioned -Davis as he left. - -But Bryant was not the man to express a decided opinion until he was -fully justified by the facts. He kept his thoughts to himself till the -last moment. - -He smiled pleasantly. "Time will show. I shall have that body exhumed, -as soon as I have made a few further inquiries." - -Davis had to be content with this oracular utterance, and bowed himself -out. He solaced himself by narrating all that had occurred to the -wondering Carrie. - -The matter had now become one for the activities of Scotland Yard. -The first thing to be done was to ascertain the whereabouts of Hugh -Murchison, that is to say, if he was still in the land of the living. -Some time had elapsed since he had communicated with Parkinson. Of -course, in itself, there would be nothing strange in that. Parkinson had -got the information that was required, been paid for it, and with that -payment, their relations had ended. - -Bryant went to the hotel where the Major had stayed, at any rate up -to the time that the detective had last seen him, and interviewed the -manager, whom he had known for some years in his professional capacity. -This person, a genial and cosmopolitan Italian, readily answered his -questions. - -Yes, the Major had stayed there for some little time. When he came, -he explained that he was only paying a flying visit to London. Had he -brought a servant with him? No, he had not. A somewhat strange omission -for a man in his position, was it not? The circumstance was easily -explained. The Major had had to dismiss his late valet for theft, and -was not in a hurry, for the present, to suit himself with a fresh one. -This he had told the manager and he was valeted at the hotel. - -He had left some time. How long? The manager would find out the exact -date. This he did. On the afternoon of the fourth of July. - -The Major had taken his things down to Victoria Station in a cab with -the view of depositing them there, as he was going to take an evening -train to Brighton. - -Bryant brightened up at this information. The discovery of the dead body -at Cathcart Square had taken place early on the morning of the fifth. - -Now arose the question, had the Major got through his business with the -Spencers before the fourth of July? In that case Mrs. Spencer was hardly -likely to be still living at Eaton Place with her husband. - -Inquiries at Eaton Place soon established the fact that Mrs. Spencer was -still there. What had happened? Had the Major communicated the result of -his research to the husband, with the result that, infatuated with his -wife, that husband had refused to credit the story and accepted Stella's -denials? - -It was a fairly plausible theory. When men are deeply in love, women -can twist them round their little finger. In that case, it was easy to -understand that, disgusted with the failure of his intervention, the -Major had made up his mind to leave London at once. - -One other thing was to be done, to ascertain if the Major had intimated -to any of his friends his intention of leaving London so abruptly. For -this purpose, Bryant sought out the brother Roderick, who had rooms in -Jermyn Street. - -Yes, Roderick had met the Major in Bond Street in the morning, and -learned of the proposed journey to Brighton. The young man added that -his brother was very erratic in his movements, and sometimes would -disappear for weeks at a stretch without communicating with any of his -friends or relatives. - -There was now one of two theories that stood out: the first one that Guy -Spencer had been told, and refused to believe the true facts about his -wife. The second was, that the Major had shirked the unpleasantness of -a personal interview of such a delicate character, and had gone down to -Brighton intending to write privately to Spencer from there. - -Further inquiries elicited the fact that the Major had never made that -projected journey to Brighton. His belongings had never been claimed, -they were still lying in the cloak room at Victoria Station. - -There was now no further doubt as to what steps had to be taken. -The Major had disappeared at a date practically coinciding with the -discovery of the dead body at Cathcart Square, the dead body which had -been wrongly identified as that of Reginald Davis, whose likeness to the -Major was so pronounced. Of that fact, Bryant himself was aware. - -The authorities were applied to, and gave permission for the body to be -exhumed. As the living Reginald Davis had established his identity to -the satisfaction of Scotland Yard, it was necessary to find out, if -possible, that of the man who had been mistaken for him. - -The body was exhumed and pronounced by half-a-dozen people, including -Guy Spencer, to be that of the Major. - -It had now become clearly a case of murder, and although those in charge -of the case had little or no doubt as to the guilty persons, it might -have been very difficult to prove, but for one convincing fact, supplied -by the murdered man himself. - -But this evidence, which was overwhelming, the police kept to themselves -for some little time, for their own good reasons. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -|The luggage which had been left at Victoria Station on the fatal day -was, of course, seized by the police. They searched it thoroughly in -the hope that they would find something useful to them in the shape of -letters or memoranda. - -Of letters there were only two, brief ones from Iris Deane, in which she -expressed her determination of sticking out for her ten thousand pounds. -As we know, in the end she gave way and accepted seven. - -But they did find one priceless thing, and that was a diary, bound in -red leather, a small volume as to the size of the page, but very bulky. -It had evidently been the dead man's habit to keep a fairly close record -of his doings, for it was numbered, and contained entries from some -date in May 1919 up to July 3rd, the day before he left the hotel, -and announced to the manager that he intended to take a late train to -Brighton. - -For the twentieth time since he had discovered this important piece -of evidence, Mr. Bryant sat in his room at Scotland Yard, reading and -re-reading the entries which he knew almost by heart. - -With the entries, before the visit to London, Bryant had no concern. -They recorded trifling events which had no reference to the tragedy -at Cathcart Square. There was, of course, allusion to the letter from -Roderick which had so startled his family, the letter announcing his -engagement to the chorus girl, Iris Deane, and his fixed resolve to make -her his wife. There was a note of a family council, in which the elder -brother was deputed to approach the young woman herself, with the object -of buying her off. - -There were a few records of his first days in London, after a long -absence, his visits to his clubs, his meeting with old pre-war -acquaintances, his first interview with Iris Deane, the difficulty of -arranging further interviews either at his hotel or her flat, owing to -the fear of Roddie popping in unexpectedly. - -Then came the whimsical record of his strolling round Kensington, -halting opposite the house with the board announcing that it was to be -let furnished, his interview with the accommodating caretaker who, in -return for a very handsome _douceur_, gave him a duplicate key to enter -the house at any time he liked. He had casually mentioned to Miles that -his name was Sanderson. - -The Major seemed childishly pleased over what he considered a very -astute move, especially the giving of another name. Here in this quiet -backwater of the world, for so it would seem to a man of his wealth and -position, he could continue his negotiations with the somewhat obstinate -Iris. In the portion of the diary concerned with the grasping and -frivolous young chorus-girl, Bryant was not greatly interested. He had -learned this already from Iris Deane, whom he had interviewed a few -times, and Reginald Davis. - -He turned from the bulky little volume, the pages of which were covered -with the Major's small, rather methodical handwriting, to a slenderer -book lying beside him. Into this had been copied all the extracts -bearing on the relations between the dead man and Mrs. Spencer, -otherwise Stella Keane, otherwise Norah Burton. - -The first entry recorded the dinner-party at Carlton House Terrace, when -he had been struck by the remarkable likeness of his friend's wife to -the pretty adventuress at Blankfield, who had driven his old friend, -Jack Pomfret, to his death; his endeavours to startle her by allusions -to that garrison town. - -An important entry was that of his interview with his old acquaintance -at the club, Gilbert Fairfax, from whom he had learned something of the -atmosphere of the L'Estrange flat in Elsinore Gardens, the branding of -Tommie Esmond as a card-sharper, the flight of the fat little man to the -Continent, the visit of Stella Keane to Charing Cross Station to bid the -detected cheat farewell. There was a comment upon this fact: "Whether -she is Norah Burton or not, her intimacy with the L'Estrange set, her -solicitude for Tommie Esmond, are sufficient to make her unfit to be the -wife of a straight, honest fellow like my old friend Guy Spencer." - -There followed further entries, relating his interview with Bryant, the -confirmation by the detective that Stella Keane was Norah Burton, that -George Dutton, the keeper of the obscure little bucket-shop in the City, -was the same George Burton who had been arrested at Blank-field on a -charge of forgery, and who, thanks to one of the cleverest advocates at -the criminal bar, had got off with a very light sentence. - -There was a full record of the long interview with Mrs. Spencer, in -which she had been finally confounded, and forced to confession, of her -acceptance of his terms, of the words she had uttered when, while rather -regretting that things could not go on as they were, lamenting the fact -that her accuser had ever been born, she was not at all satisfied with -her present environment, and would experience a certain measure of -relief in quitting it for a more congenial sphere. - -On the day he had parted from her, the day on which she had yielded to -his inflexible determination that she must remain under her husband's -roof as short a time as possible, he recorded the fact that, up to the -present moment, he had not made up his mind as to the precise way in -which he was going to bring about the separation. He wanted to choose -the way which would least hurt Guy. - -There had flashed through his mind that, in addition to the confession -she was about to make to him of her whole career, she should confess to -her husband that she was not legally his wife, being in reality the wife -of George Burton, alias George Dutton. There followed here a note. "I am -convinced she and this rascal were married, the sister and cousin dodges -were always a fake. I must see Parkinson to find out if he can ferret -out anything on that point. But the time is short. In a week I must be -ready for action." - -A further entry showed that he had called on Parkinson with this object, -only to learn that the detective had gone on an important mission -abroad, and could undertake no further work till his return, which would -be some ten days hence. That idea therefore had to be dismissed. He must -think out some other plan. - -Then came the last and most important entry of all, dated on the fourth -of July, written no doubt a few hours before he took his luggage to -Victoria Station. - -"I meet Norah Burton, I always think of her by that old name, at -Cathcart Square at six o'clock to-night. I have given the caretaker a -holiday to keep him out of the way. I have drawn up two copies of -the confession, one of which she is to sign. I have also drawn up an -undertaking on my part to keep her from want in case Guy should prove -obdurate. But this I am sure he will not do. Besides, if she is his -wife, and thinking it over, I have my doubts as to whether she was ever -really married to Burton, he would have to support her, in spite of her -unsavoury associations." - -Bryant paused for a moment as he finished this paragraph to reflect a -little. Personally, he did not believe that she was the wife of George -Burton; in his opinion, their association had been the result of mutual -interests. With this knowledge hanging over her head, she would hardly -have been daring enough to go through the ceremony of marriage with two -other men. Anyway, it was a debatable point. - -Moreover, Burton, like most criminals, would be very wide awake and -calculating. To marry her would be to handicap himself. He could get -more out of her by marrying her to a rich man. - -Then came the last paragraph of all. - -"Now, for my action after the final interview of to-night, when she has -signed the confession. I may do one of two things, forbid her to return -to her husband's house, and go myself straight to Eaton Place, and break -the news to Spencer without any preamble. In that case, I shall take -with me some ready money to hand to her, as she will probably have very -little upon her. - -"And yet I rather shrink from this course; it would be painful for me to -watch his agony while I struck such a terrible blow. I will run down -to Brighton, drop him a note telling him that an important letter will -reach him at his club by registered post to-morrow, that he is on no -account to let his wife know he has heard from me till he has read the -contents of that registered packet. - -"I shall post him the copy of the confession, telling him he can inspect -the original at any time he likes, meeting me either in Brighton or -London, leaving him to deal with her as he chooses. After all, his is -the right to dispose of his private affairs, my duty really ends when I -have put him in possession of the facts. My first method must have the -effect of creating open scandal at once, by my insisting upon her not -returning to Eaton Place. - -"He may wish to devise some plan that will create a scandal less open, -to save, as far as he can, the disgrace to himself and his family. If I -know the man, and here, perhaps, I am arguing from the knowledge only of -my own temperament, I should say his love would turn to hatred after he -reads that confession. Jack Pomfret was a weaker man than Guy, but he -acted as I should have done under the circumstances, and refused all -further communication with her, refused to give her the opportunity of -denial or explanation. - -"Still, there is no knowing to what lengths a deep-rooted infatuation -for a fascinating woman will lead a man. In this respect, Guy may be -less adamant than Pomfret, although I am sure he will never imitate poor -Jack's final weakness. He is too sturdily built for that. - -"When confronted with that confession she may plead artfully, and, -perhaps to him, convincingly, that while she admits everything contained -in it, she was more sinned against than sinning, that she tried to -escape from her odious bondage by marrying Jack, and that with his -suicide and the frustration of her hopes, she was compelled to return -to an environment which she loathed. He might consent to believe and -forgive, although to me such a thing seems incredible, impossible." - -Bryant closed the book on the last entry. That little red-leather volume -threw a lurid light on the mystery of Cathcart Square. The exhumed body -was found to be that of Major Murchison, wrongly identified in the first -instance as that of Reginald Davis. It was all very clear. - -That meeting had taken place, and the unfortunate man had been done -to death by the precious pair, Norah Burton and the scoundrel brother, -cousin or life-long lover, whichever he was. Reginald Davis was an old -acquaintance of theirs, had been possibly a more intimate one than -the cautious Davis was prepared to admit. They took with them letters -addressed to their old friend, they forged a letter from him intimating -his intention to commit suicide. - -If Davis read of all this in the papers, he was too concerned with his -own danger to emerge from his hiding-place and publish the truth to the -world. He would be thankful that, through the villainy of others, he -could take a new lease of life, unmenaced by detection. Of course, they -had never thought of the possibility that Davis would be cleared by the -confession of the real criminal. Like Scotland Yard, they were sure he -was guilty, and his silence was a matter of certainty. - -And slowly Bryant, drawing from the stores of his vast experience, began -to construct in his own mind the details of the murder, executed by -two desperate criminals, almost driven to the verge of madness by the -knowledge that their carefully-laid plans were about to be frustrated by -the action of one man. - -The woman, the weaker of the two, was probably more disposed to yield to -the force and strength of circumstances. Once before, in her marriage to -Jack Pomfret, she had had the cup snatched from her lips, and bowed -to the inevitable. From the few words recorded in the Major's accusing -diary, it would seem that, secured of a modest competence, she was ready -a second time to accept her fate. - -And then, in that week's interval, it was easy to guess what had -happened. She had consulted her old partner in crime, George Burton. He -had reasoned, as it turned out, a little shallowly, remove Murchison, -and the danger will be past. The resemblance of Murchison to Reginald -Davis had occurred to the pair, hence the cunningly prepared letters. - -And how was the actual murder accomplished? Had they gone to Cathcart -Square together, or had Burton followed her, getting in by means of that -broken window-pane at the back? And did they know the Major was alone? -In that last interview with Mrs. Spencer, had he let out the fact -that he had given the caretaker a holiday, so that they should not be -disturbed? - -These were side problems that could not be solved at the moment. Only -two persons could solve them, and those two, in all probability, would -never speak. - -But how had they killed him? The Major was a strong, muscular fellow who -would fight tenaciously for his life. Norah Burton was a slender woman, -almost verging on frailness, George Dutton, to call him by his latest -name, was certainly of a muscular build, although of only average -height. - -Well, of course, they had foreseen and prepared for all that. -while talking to him, she had sprayed over him the essence of some -overpowering and stupefying drug, and while he was staggering about, -dazed and blinded, the man had stepped in and done the rest. - -Owing to the absence of the caretaker, they had plenty of time. They had -rifled his pockets, taking out of them the money which, according to -his diary, he had brought along with him, his personal belongings, the -ticket which he had received at the luggage room of Victoria Station, -and, of course, the confession which Norah Burton had or had not signed. -No doubt, they had also examined his linen and underclothing to make -sure that his name was not on them. If it had been, they would have -dealt with it by stripping the body. - -They had carried it out pretty well, on the whole. There were two things -they had not reckoned on. One was the resuscitation of Reginald Davis. -The other was the fact that Murchison kept a diary, one of the last -things that a man of his sort was likely to do. - -Bryant, although not a very emotional man, felt very depressed as he -came to the result of his meditations. He felt sure that, if Norah -Burton could have had her own way, she would have accepted her fate, -gone forth on the world again with the slender pittance that either of -the two men, her husband or his friend, would have allowed her. - -She had suffered herself to be dominated by a more reckless and criminal -spirit, with the result that the life of an honourable man had been -taken, and she was already standing at the foot of the gallows. - -The pair, only knowing that the body had been exhumed and proved to -be that of Hugh Murchison--a terribly disturbing thought to them--but -ignorant of the discovery of that incriminating diary, were being -closely watched. But they felt sure that nothing could be traced to -them, they had hidden their tracks so cleverly, as they thought. - -It was now only a question of a few hours as to when they should be -taken. And Bryant felt that Guy Spencer should know the truth before -anybody else. Poor fellow! He would soften the blow to him as much as he -could. - -That same evening he went round to Eaton Place, about seven o'clock. -He reckoned that he would catch Spencer before he went up to dress for -dinner. "Poor devil," thought Bryant, "he won't have much appetite for -dinner after he has read through that diary!" - -Spencer was in the library, and the detective, whom he had met before -in connection with the mystery of Cathcart Square, was shown in. Spencer -welcomed him with his usual cordiality. - -"Good-evening, Mr. Bryant. Any fresh light upon this terrible thing?" - -The footman had left the library door slightly open, after showing -Bryant in, and had retired swiftly to his quarters. - -He was hardly out of the hall when Stella opened the front-door with -her key, and glided noiselessly in. All her movements were noiseless, -suggesting, as somebody had once remarked of her, the silent motions of -a snake. She always carried a key, declaring that she could not be kept -waiting for servants to answer the door. - -The library door was open, through the aperture she heard voices, and -one of them she recognised. It was that of the Scotland Yard detective, -who had cross-examined her very closely as to her various meetings with -the dead man. She had been afraid of Bryant. He had looked at her so -searchingly, and his manner always conveyed that he knew so much more -than he was prepared to disclose. - -Bryant was speaking in a low, but very clear voice. Her hearing was -singularly acute, and she could catch every word. - -"I am come on a very painful errand, Mr. Spencer. There is a small -volume here which throws a very clear light on what happened at Cathcart -Square on that fatal evening of July the fourth." - -Guy's cheerful accents rang out. "You mean you have got a clue, Mr. -Bryant. But why painful to me? If you are on the track of the murderer -of my poor old friend, nobody will be more rejoiced than I." - -Again the low, grave tones of Bryant: - -"Mr. Spencer, you will be a very stricken man when you have read through -it. Your poor friend left behind him a very copious diary, made up to -the morning of the day on which he was murdered. The original is at my -office, you can inspect it at any time you like. This is a copy of the -entries relating to Cathcart Square. It touches your domestic life very -closely, in addition to proving why and by whom he was murdered." - -Stella waited to hear no more. Her face had gone livid, she felt shaking -in every limb. That her old enemy, Murchison, had left a diary! They -had never thought of that possibility. The game was up. She had staked -something on her marriage as Norah Burton with Jack Pomfret, and had -lost. This time she had staked everything and lost again, but now she -had lost liberty and life in addition. There was but one end. She must -seek at once the man who had, in a way, been a good and faithful friend, -but also her evil genius. - -She stole as quietly out of the hall as she had entered it, and hailed -a passing taxi. She knew she would never enter the house at Eaton Place -again. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -|Mrs. Spencer had plenty of money in her pocket. She was always -accustomed to carry a large sum about her. Her adventurous life had -taught her that it was always wiser to have a good amount of cash in her -possession. The time might come at any moment when you were in a tight -corner. She had promised a handsome reward to the taxi-cab driver if he -could get to a certain destination within the speed limit. - -That destination was Kew Bridge, where it abuts on a little-known -neighbourhood called Strand-on-the-Green. - -At the foot of Kew Bridge, the wretched and hunted woman halted, and -paid the driver his extravagant fare. What did it matter what she paid -to-night? To-morrow she might not be able to pay. She shuddered as she -thought of that to-morrow. - -The taxi-driver drove slowly out of sight. She waited, from a sense of -habitual caution, till he was well out of the way. And then, remembering -everything, she smiled bitterly. Was there any need of caution now? - -She went down a narrow lane, halted at the door of a small cottage, and -rang the front-door bell. As she did so, she was aware of a man a few -yards away from her, who seemed to be strolling aimlessly about, a man -dressed in ill-fitting clothes, and heavy boots. - -A detective certainly! This man had followed her from Eaton Place in a -taxi almost as swift as her own. Bryant knew his business, he was not -going to lose sight of her, or of her reputed cousin, George Dutton. - -The door was opened cautiously by George Dutton, alias George Burton. - -It was a small furnished cottage that he had rented for some months -past, at a rent commensurate with his means. He kept no servant; a -feeble old woman came in the morning to clean him up and prepare his -breakfast. When he came back at night from the not very prosperous -bucket-shop, he looked after himself, and cooked over a gas-stove his -evening meal. - -The evenings were drawing in, and it was rather a dark night. He peered -for a moment at his visitor, before he recognised her. - -"Stella, by all that is wonderful." He called her by the new name, -not the old one of Norah. "Come in, dear, but your arrival in this -unexpected fashion does not suggest good news." - -She passed hastily through the open doorway. "Shut it quick," she said, -in a low, hoarse voice. "There is a man watching outside, I am sure he -is a detective." - -As a matter of fact, there were two detectives within a few feet of each -other, but in her agitation she had not observed the second man, who was -deputed to keep watch on the movements of Mr. George Dutton. - -George Dutton was an old hand, and not to be lightly disturbed by small -incidents. But he recognised the significance of this visit. His ruddy -colour died away. - -"You have bad news," he said quietly. - -"The worst, George. Bryant, the detective, paid a visit to Guy this -evening. I came in just in the nick of time. The library door was ajar, -I heard what Bryant said. The Major has left a diary behind him, and, of -course, he had put it all down, up to the arranged meeting in Cathcart -Square. The game is up, you will recognise that." - -Dutton's mentality was a little bit slower than her own. "Did you hear -any extracts read from the diary?" - -"What a fool you are!" she cried indignantly. "Why should I wait to -hear? If the man kept a diary, is it not easy to guess that he would -have related every incident connected with me, from our first meeting at -the Southleigh dinner-party? Bryant is watching me, there is a detective -waiting outside. No doubt he is watching you, too. He is just waiting to -pounce." - -"Then why has he gone to your husband?" - -"Oh, you are too dense for worlds. Just to soften the blow. Can't you -understand that he wants to warn him beforehand of the shame that is -going to fall upon him, the discovery that his wife is a murderess?" - -And then Mr. Dutton understood. He stretched out appealing arms to her. -"My poor little girl, my ever faithful pal! And I have brought you to -this!" - -"You have brought me to this," she said bitterly. "Did I not implore you -upon my knees to accept the Major's terms, and you were so obstinate, -so set. You would insist upon the other way because it seemed better to -you. And I, fool that I was, always yielding to your sinister influence, -gave way as I always have done." - -Scoundrel and criminal as he was, hardened by years of evil-doing, the -man's self-control gave way at that accusation. He drew her to him, and, -strange to say, she did not shrink from his embrace.. - -"My poor Stella, I have tried to do my best for you always, even -sacrificed myself. But the end has come." - -He recognised that, as she did. - -"Yes," she said stoically, "as you say, the end has come. You have -always been very adept in falling into holes, and then digging yourself -out again. How are you going to dig yourself and me out of this hole, in -the face of that incriminating diary?" - -Dutton walked up and down, his face working, his hands and his body -trembling. He was up against the gravest problem of his adventurous -career. The shadow of the prison had always hovered over him, but now -there was a more ghastly menace, the shadow of the gallows. From the -prison, he could return. There was no return from the other. - -He paused in his restless pacing, and came to a halt before the stricken -woman. He had recovered himself to a certain extent. He had gambled and -lost, he was prepared to accept the fate of the unsuccessful gambler. - -"You are brave, old girl?" he asked briefly. - -She looked up at him with a wan smile. - -"Yes, I think I am brave. I can guess what you are about to suggest, -with the detectives watching us outside." She burst into a little sob. -"Oh, you always thought you were so clever, and yet, if I had had the -management of affairs, things might have been so different." - -He spoke humbly. "I think you are right, Norah. I was always full of -arrogance and self-conceit. You were weaker in character than I was, but -you had always more brains. And I was a blind fool not to admit it. Many -a time you gave me your advice, and I rejected it." - -"And what do you suggest now?" she asked, in a voice that had sunk to a -whisper. - -He looked at her steadily. He had screwed up his courage to the sticking -point. Could he count upon an equal fortitude in her? - -"It is the finish, old girl. You say the detectives are waiting outside. -Bryant has got a good case, and the diary will hang us. There is no -getting over that." - -"You propose----" she said falteringly. - -He spoke quite steadily. The end had come, he had made up his mind, so -far as regards himself. - -"We neither of us want to hang for the murder of Hugh Murchison?" - -She shuddered, and hid her face with her hands. "Oh, that awful evening! -It has been like a nightmare ever since." - -"I know," said Dutton soothingly. "It was one of my fatal mistakes. But -it is no use crying over spilt milk. To-night we are face to face with -facts. We have gambled, and we have lost, and we have got to pay the -penalty." - -The wretched woman rose up, and wrung her hands. "And to think I might -have been the Countess of Southleigh." - -"I know; don't think I am not reckoning up all that," replied Dutton. -"But we have got to deal with facts to-night, with the detectives -waiting outside. The game is up, you know that as well as I do. We have -only a few hours before us, perhaps a few minutes, in which to make the -choice." - -"I know," she answered. "You mean our only alternative is to cheat the -law." - -He looked at her steadily. "That is the only way. If we suffer ourselves -to be taken, we have not got a dog's chance." - -Weak woman as she was, she gathered something of his iron resolution. -Yes, they must die and die together, to cheat the law. Such was to be -the end of the brilliant adventuress who had inveigled two men into -marriage, Jack Pomfret and Guy Spencer, with her subtle and elusive -charm. - -"And what do you suggest, George? You have thought of these things more -than I have." - -"I have always thought of them," said Dutton gloomily. "Well, there are -various ways I can suggest to you. I can shoot you first, and myself -afterwards." - -She shuddered. "Some other way than that." - -"I can give you some tabloids." - -"Is there any pain?" she queried. - -"Hardly any." - -She shuddered again. "Hardly any. That does not sound very convincing." - -He proposed a third alternative. "You can come up to my room, and lie on -the bed. I will paper up all the doors and cracks and turn up the gas. -You will simply go to sleep and never wake." - -"That is the best," she said. - -"If we had plenty of time. But they may take us in a few minutes. Bryant -has seen your husband, he will not wait long after that interview." - -"The tabloids, then," she said firmly. - -Yes, it had come to this, she must cheat the law. Twice, she had had -her chance, once as the wife of Jack Pomfret, again as the wife of Guy -Spencer. And twice had the cup of triumph been snatched from her lips. - -She must die, like a rat in a hole, in this obscure little cottage at -Strand-on-the-Green, in the company of the man who had always been her -evil genius. - -Dutton went across to a small cupboard built in the wall of the shabby -parlour, and brought out a little bottle filled with capsules. He -extracted one and handed it to the shrinking woman. - -"Take yours first, dear, I will take mine after." There was a look of -infinite compassion in the scoundrel's face as he offered it to her. - -Bravely she took it, and swallowed it with a great gulp, sitting in the -shabby easy-chair. The effect was almost instantaneous, and when Dutton -had made sure that she was beyond human aid, he took a similar tabloid -himself, with the same result. - -An hour later there was a thundering knock at the door of the cottage. -One of the detectives had gone to a telephone office and informed Bryant -that the woman had come to Strand-on-the-Green, and was with Dutton. The -order came back from Bryant, who had only stayed a few minutes at Eaton -Place, that the pair were to be arrested at once. - -Of course there was no response. After waiting for a few moments, the -men broke in the frail door. But they were too late. - -Norah Burton, and the man who had been so long associated with -her--brother, cousin, lover, whatever he might be--had gone to their -judgment. - -It was a nine-days' wonder, and while his friends and acquaintances were -still discussing it at clubs and over tea-tables, Guy Spencer slipped -quietly abroad. When he returned to England, at the end of twelve -months, these tragic happenings had become little more than a memory to -his world. - -He stayed a week with the Southleighs at their ancestral home in Sussex, -and at the end of that week their friends read an important announcement -in _The Morning Post_: - -"A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between Mr. -Guy Spencer and his cousin, Lady Nina, only daughter and child of the -Earl of Southleigh." - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of This House To Let, by William Le Queux - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIS HOUSE TO LET *** - -***** This file should be named 51307.txt or 51307.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/0/51307/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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