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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..0da3aea --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55102 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55102) diff --git a/old/55102-8.txt b/old/55102-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2080b7..0000000 --- a/old/55102-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10590 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wooden Hand, by Fergus Hume - -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: The Wooden Hand - A Detective Story - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: July 12, 2017 [EBook #55102] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODEN HAND *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books(University of Wisconsin Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=fUk2AQAAMAAJ - the University of Wisconsin--Madison - - - - - - -Bell's Indian and Colonial Library -__________________________________ - - - - - -THE WOODEN HAND - - - - - - -THE WOODEN HAND - -A DETECTIVE STORY - - -BY -FERGUS HUME - -AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," -"THE GUILTY HOUSE," "THE SILVER BULLET," -"THE LONELY CHURCH," "THE WHITE ROOM," -ETC. ETC. ETC. - - - -LONDON -GEORGE BELL AND SONS -1905 - - - - - - -_This Edition is issued for circulation in India and the Colonies -only_. - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAP. - -I. MISERY CASTLE -II. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM -III. THE NE'ER-DO-WEEL -IV. MYSTERY -V. A STRANGE LOSS -VI. THE WARNING -VII. THE INQUEST -VIII. A NEW LIFE -IX. THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL -X. MRS. HILL EXPLAINS -XI. ALLEN AS A DETECTIVE -XII. LORD SALTARS -XIII. THE OTHER WOMAN -XIV. SIGNOR ANTONIO -XV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING -XVI. MR. HILL'S STORY -XVII. A FRIEND IN NEED -XVIII. THE FINDING OF BUTSEY -xxx. MRS. MERRY'S VISITORS -XX. AN AMAZING CONFESSION -XXI. THE DIAMONDS -XXII. BUTSEY'S STORY -XXIII. MISS LORRY'S LAST APPEARANCE -XXIV. THE WINDING OF THE SKEIN - - - - - - -THE WOODEN HAND - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MISERY CASTLE - - -"Ah well, Miss Eva, I 'spose your pa'ull come home to spile things -as he allays have done. It ain't no wonder, I ses, as you sits -moping by the winder, looking double your age, and you only twenty, -as has no right to look forty, whatever you may say, though I took -my dying alfred-david on its blessed truth." - -This slightly incoherent and decidedly pessimistic speech was moaned, -rather than spoken, by a lean-bodied, hard-faced, staring-eyed woman -to a pretty girl, who did not look at the speaker. And small wonder. -Mrs. Merry--inappropriate name--was unattractive to the eye. She was -angular, grey-skinned, grey-eyed, grey-haired, and had thin, drooping -lips almost as grey as the rest of her. In her black stuff gown--she -invariably wore the most funereal dresses--with uneasy hands folded -under a coarse apron, she stood before Eva Strode, uttering -lamentations worthy of Jeremiah at his worst. But such dumpishness was -characteristic of the woman. She delighted in looking on the black -side of things, and the blacker they were, the more she relished them. -Out of wrong-doing, and grief and things awry, she extracted a queer -sort of pleasure, and felt never so happy as when the worst came to -the worst. It seemed unfit that such a walking pageant of woe should -be called Merry. - -Eva, already depressed by the voice and sentiment of this -lamentable dame, continued to look at the gaudy hollyhocks, even -while she answered calmly, "I expect my father is the same as he -was when he went to South Africa five years ago. I don't hope to -find him an angel. I am certain he has not changed." - -"If you're thinking of black angels," said the lively Merry, "you -can have satisfactions from thinking him Beelzebub, for him he -are." - -"Don't call my father names. It does no good, Mrs. Merry." - -"Beg pardon, miss, but it do relieve the heart and temper. And I will -call him a leper, if that's a name, seeing as he'll never change his -spots, however persuaded." - -"What's the time?" - -Mrs. Merry peered into the dial of a clock on the mantelpiece. "You -might call it six, Miss Eva, and a lovely evening it is, though rain -may spile it unexpected. Your pa 'ull be seated at the table in the -next room at eight, let us hope, if nothing do happen to him, and I -do pray on my bended knees, Miss Eva, as he won't growl at the meal, -his habit allays when your poor dear ma--her ladyship was alive. Ah -well," said Mrs. Merry with emphasis, "_she's_ an angel now, and your -pa ain't likely to trouble her again." - -"Why, don't you think my father may come home? I mean, why do you -fancy anything may happen to him?" - -"Oh, I ain't got no cause, but what you might call the -uncertainties of this vale of tears, Miss Eva. He have to drive -ten mile here from the Westhaven station, and there's tramps -about them lonely roads. Coming from South Africa, your pa 'ull -naturally have diamonds to tempt the poor." - -"I don't know what he has got," said Eva rather pettishly. "And -no one, save you and me, know he is returning from Africa." - -"No one, Miss Eva?" questioned the woman significantly. - -Miss Strode coloured. "I told Mr. Hill." - -"And he told his pa, and his pa, who have a long tongue, told all -the village, I don't doubt. If ever there was a man as fiddled -away his days in silliness," cried Merry, "it's that pink and -white jelly-fish as you call Hills." - -"Hill," corrected Miss Strode; then added colouring: "His son -doesn't take after him." - -"No," admitted the other grudgingly, "I will say as Mr. Allen is -a tight lad. His mother gave him her blood and sense and looks; -not that I say he's worthy of you, Miss Eva." - -"Mrs. Merry," said Eva quietly, "you let your tongue run on too -freely about my friends." - -"Not the father Hills, if I die in saying it. He's no friend of -yours, seeing he's your pa's; and as to Mr. Allen, I never had -a sweetheart as I called friend, when you could call him -something better." - -Eva took no notice of this speech, but continued, "You are my -old nurse, Mrs. Merry, and I allow you to talk openly." - -"For your good, Miss Eva," put in Merry. - -"For my good, I know," said the girl; "but you must not run down -Allen's father or mine." - -"As to _his_ father, I say nothing but that he's a drivelling -jelly-fish," said Mrs. Merry, who would not be suppressed; "but your -own pa I know, worse luck, and I don't think much of him as a man, -whatever I say about his being Beelzebub, which he is. Fifty years and -more he is, fine-looking at that, though wickedness is in his aching -bones. Not that I know of their aching," explained Mrs. Merry, "but if -sin would make 'em smart, ache they do. You've been happy with me, -Miss Eva, dear, in spite of a humble roof and your poor ma's death, -four and a half year back. But your pa's come home to make trouble. -Satan let loose is what I call him, and if I could stop his coming by -twisting his wicked neck, I would." - -"Mrs. Merry!" Eva rose quickly and flushed. "You forget yourself." - -"There," said Mrs. Merry, casting up her eyes; "and I fed her with my -own milk." - -Eva, who was tenderly attached to the angular, dismal, chattering -woman, could not withstand this remark. "Dear Nanny," she said, -comforting the wounded heart, "I know you mean well, but my father -_is_ my father after all." - -"Worse luck, so he is," sobbed Mrs. Merry, feeling for Eva's hand. - -"I wish to think of him as kindly as I can, and----" - -"Miracles won't make you do that," interrupted the woman, dropping -her apron from her eyes, and glaring. "Miss Eva, I knew your pa when -he was a bad boy, both him and me being neighbours, as you might -say, though I did live in a cottage and he in a Manor House not two -mile from here. He and that jelly-fish of a Hills were always -together doing mischief, and setting neighbours by the ears, though -I do say as your pa, being masterful, led that jelly-fish away. -Then your pa ran away with Lady Jane Delham, your ma, as is dead, -and treated her shameful. She come here to me, as an old friend, -for friend I was, tho' humble," sobbed Mrs. Merry weeping again, -"and you were born. Then your pa takes you away and I never set -eyes on you and my lady till five years ago when he brought you -here. To settle down and make you happy? No! not he. Away he goes -gallivanting to South Africa where the blacks are, leaving a lady -born and bred and his daughter just a bud, meaning yourself, to -live with a common woman like me!" - -"I have been very happy, Nanny, and my mother was happy also, when she -was alive." - -"Ah," said Mrs. Merry bitterly, "a queer sort of happiness, to be -that way when your husband goes. I've had a trial myself in Merry, -who's dead, and gone, I hope, where you'll find your pa will join -him. But you'll see, Miss Eva, as your pa will come and stop your -marrying Mr. Allen." - -"I think that's very likely," said Eva sadly. - -"What," said Mrs. Merry under her breath, and rising, "he's at it -already is he? I thought so." - -"I received a letter from him the other day," explained Eva; -"knowing your prejudice against my father, I said nothing." - -"Me not to be trusted, I 'spose, Miss Eva?" was the comment. - -"Nonsense. I trust you with anything." - -"And well you may. I fed you with my heart's blood, and foster -sister you are to my boy Cain, though, Lord knows, he's as bad as his -father was before him--the gipsy whelp that he is. Not on my side, -though," cried Mrs. Merry. "I'm true English, and why I ever took up -with a Romany rascal like Giles Merry, I don't know. But he's dead, I -hope he is, though I never can be sure, me not knowing where's his -grave. Come now," Mrs. Merry gave her face a wipe with the apron, -"I'm talking of my own troubles, when yours is about. That -letter----?" - -"It is one in answer to mine. I wrote to Cape Town three months ago -telling my father that I was engaged to Allen Hill. He wrote the other -day--a week ago--from Southampton, saying he would not permit the -marriage to take place, and bade me wait till he came home." - -"Trouble! trouble," said Mrs. Merry, rocking; "I know the man. Ah, my -dear, don't talk. I'm thinking for your good." - -It was hot outside, though the sun was sinking and the cool twilight -shadowed the earth. The hollyhocks, red and blue and white and -yellow, a blaze of colour, were drooping their heads in the warm air, -and the lawn looked brown and burnt for want of rain. Not a breath of -wind moved the dusty sycamore trees which divided the cottage from -the high-road, and the crimson hue of the setting sun steeped -everything in its sinister dye. Perhaps it was this uncanny evening -that made Eva Strode view the home-coming of her father with such -uneasiness, and the hostility and forebodings of Mrs. Merry did not -tend to reassure her. With her hand on that dismal prophetess's -shoulder, she stood silently looking out on the panting world bathed -in the ruddy light. It was as though she saw the future through a -rain of blood. - -Misery Castle was the name of the cottage, and Mrs. Merry was -responsible for the dreary appellation. Her life had been hard -and was hard. Her husband had left her, and her son, following in -his father's footsteps, was almost constantly absent in London, -in more than questionable company. Mrs. Merry therefore called -the cottage by as dismal a name as she could think of. Even Eva, -who protested against the name, could not get the steadfastly -dreary woman to change it. "Misery dwells in it, my dear lamb," -said Mrs. Merry, "and Misery it shall be called. Castle it ain't -from the building of it, but Castle it is, seeing the lot of -sorrow that's in it. Buckingham Palace and the Tower wouldn't -hold more, and more there will be, when that man comes home with -his wicked sneering face, father though he be to you, my poor -young lady." - -It was a delightful cottage, with whitewashed walls covered with -creepers, and a thatched roof, grey with wind and weather and the -bleaching of the sun. The rustic porch was brilliant with red -roses, and well-kept garden-beds bloomed with rainbow-hued -flowers seasonable to the August month. To the right this domain -was divided from a wide and gorse-covered common by an ancient -wall of mellow-hued brick, useful for the training of peach-trees: -to the left a low hedge, with unexpected gaps, ran between the -flower-beds and a well-stocked orchard. This last extended some -distance, and ended in a sunken fence, almost buried in nettles and -rank weeds. Beyond stretched several meadows, in which cows -wandered, and further still, appeared fields of wheat, comfortable -farm-houses, clumps and lines of trees, until the whole fertile -expanse terminated at the foot of low hills, so far away that they -looked blue and misty. A smiling corn-land, quite Arcadian in its -peace and beauty. - -Along the front of the cottage and under the dusty sycamore trees -ran a high-road which struck straightly across the common, slipped -by Misery Castle, and took its way crookedly through Wargrove -village, whence it emerged to twist and turn for miles towards the -distant hills and still more distant London town. Being the king's -highway it was haunted by tramps, by holiday vans filled with -joyous folk, and by fashionable motor-cars spinning noisily at -illegal speed. But neither motor-cars, nor vans, nor tramps, nor -holidaymakers stopped at Wargrove village, unless for a moment or -two at the one public-house on thirsty days. These went on -ten miles further across the common to Westhaven, a rising -watering-place at the Thames mouth. So it will be seen that the -publicity of the highway afforded Eva a chance of seeing the world -on wheels, and diversified her somewhat dull existence. - -And it was dull, until a few months ago. Then Allen Hill came home -from South America, where he had been looking after mines. The -young people met and subsequently fell in love. Three months before -the expected arrival of Mr. Strode they became engaged with the -consent of Allen's parents but without the knowledge of Eva's -father. However, being a dutiful daughter to a man who did not -deserve such a blessing, she wrote and explained herself. The reply -was the letter, mention of which she had made to Mrs. Merry. And Mrs. -Merry prognosticated trouble therefrom. - -"I know the man--I know the man," moaned Mrs. Merry, rocking herself, -"he'll marry you to some one else for his ambitions, drat him." - -"That he shall never do," flashed out Eva. - -"You have plenty of spirit, Miss Eva, but he'll wear you out. He -wore out Lady Jane, your ma, as is now where he will never go. -And was it this that set you moping by the winder, my dear -lamb?" - -Eva returned to her former seat. "Not altogether." She -hesitated, and then looked anxiously at her old nurse, who stood -with folded arms frowning and rigid. "You believe in dreams, -Mrs. Merry?" - -"As I believe that Merry was a scoundrel, and that my boy will -take after him, as he does," said the woman, nodding sadly; -"misery ain't surer nor dreams, nor taxes which allays come -bringing sorrow and summonses with 'em. So you dreamed last -night?" - -"Yes. You know I went to bed early. I fell asleep at eight and -woke at nine, trembling." - -"Ah!" Mrs. Merry drew nearer--"'twas a baddish dream?" - -"A horrible dream--it was, I think, two dreams." - -"Tell it to me," said the old woman, her eyes glittering. - -Eva struck her closed fist on the sill. "No," she cried -passionately, "it's impossible to tell it. I wish to forget." - -"You'll remember it well enough when the truth comes." - -"Do you think anything will come of it?" - -"It's as sure as sure," said Mrs. Merry. - -Eva, less superstitious, laughed uneasily, and tried to turn the -subject. "Allen will be at the gate soon," she said. "I'm walking to -the common with him for an hour." - -"Ah well," droned Mrs. Merry, "take your walk, Miss Eva. You won't -have another when _he_ comes home." - -"Nurse!" Eva stamped her foot and frowned. "You make my father out to -be a----" - -"Whatever I make him out to be, I'll never get near what he is," -said Mrs. Merry viciously. "I hate him. He ruined my Giles, not as -Giles was much to boast of. Still, I could have talked him into -being a stay-at-home, if your pa--there--there--let him be, say I. -If his cup is full he'll never come home alive." - -Eva started and grew deathly pale. "My dream--my dream," she said. - -"Ah yes!" Mrs. Merry advanced and clutched the girl's wrist. "You -saw him dead or dying, eh, eh?" - -"Don't, nurse; you frighten me," said Miss Strode, releasing her -wrist; then she thought for a moment. "My dream or dreams," said -she after a pause, went something after this fashion. "I thought I -was in the Red Deeps----" - -"Five miles from here," muttered Mrs. Merry, hugging herself. "I know -the place--who better? Red clay and a splash of water, however dry." - -"Ah, you are thinking of the spring!" said Eva starting; "it was there -I saw--oh no--no," and she closed her eyes to shut out the sight. - -"What was it--what was it?" asked Mrs. Merry eagerly; "death?" - -"He was lying face downward in the moist red clay beside the spring of -the Red Deeps!" - -"Who was lying?" - -"I don't know. I seemed to see the place and the figure of a man in -dark clothes lying face downward, with his hands twisted helplessly in -the rank grasses. I heard a laugh too--a cruel laugh, but in my dream -I saw no one else. Only the dead man, face downward," and she stared -at the carpet as though she saw the gruesome sight again. - -"How do you know 'twas your father's corpse?" croaked the old woman. - -"I didn't think it was--I didn't tell you it was," panted Eva, -flushing and paling with conflicting emotions. - -"Ah," interpreted Mrs. Merry, "some one he killed, perhaps." - -"How dare you--how dare----? Nurse," she burst out, "I believe it -_was_ my father lying dead there--I saw a white-gloved right hand." - -"Your pa, sure enough," said the woman grimly. "His wooden hand, eh? -I know the hand. He struck me with it once. Struck me," she cried, -rising and glaring, "with my own husband standing by. But Giles was -never a man. So your pa was dead, wooden hand and all, in the Red -Deeps? Did you go there to see, this day?" - -"No, no," Eva shuddered, "it was only a dream." - -"Part of one, you said." - -Miss Strode nodded. "After I saw the body and the white glove on the -wooden hand glimmering in the twilight--for twilight it was in my -dream--I seemed to sink into darkness, and to be back in my bed--yes, -in my bed in the room across the passage." - -"Ah! you woke then?" said Mrs. Merry, disappointed. - -"No, I swear I was not awake. I was in my bed asleep, dreaming, for I -heard footsteps--many footsteps come to the door--to the front door, -then five knocks----" - -"Five," said the woman, surprised. - -"Five knocks. One hard and four soft. Then a voice came telling me -to take in the body. I woke with a cry, and found it was just after -nine o'clock." - -"Well, well," chuckled the old woman, "if Robert Strode is dead----" - -"You can't be sure of that," said Eva fiercely, and regretted -telling this dismal woman her dream. - -"You saw the gloved hand--the wooden hand?" - -"Bah! It is only a dream." - -"Dreams come true. I've known 'em to come true," said Mrs. Merry, -rising, "and to-morrow I go to the Red Deeps to see." - -"But my father comes home to-night." - -"No," said Mrs. Merry, with the mien of a sibyl, "he'll never come -home agin to the house where he broke a woman's heart." - -And she went out laughing and muttering of the Red Deeps. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM - - -Eva Strode was an extremely pretty blonde. She had golden-brown -hair which glistened in the sunshine, hazel eyes somewhat -meditative in expression, and a complexion that Mrs. Merry, in her -odd way, compared to mixed roses and milk. Her nose was delicate -and straight, her mouth charming and sensitive, and if it drooped -a trifle at the corners, she had good cause for so melancholy a -twist. Her figure was so graceful that envious women, less -favoured by Nature, suggested padding: but these same depreciators -could say nothing against her hands and feet, which were -exquisitely formed. Usually Eva, cunning enough to know that her -beauty needed no adornment, dressed in the very plainest fashions. -At the present moment she was arrayed in a pale blue dress of some -coarse material, and wore a large straw hat swathed in azure -tulle. An effective touch of more pronounced colour appeared in -the knot of red ribbon at her throat and the bunch of crimson -roses thrust into her waistband. She looked dainty, well-bred, -charming, and even the malignant female eye would have found -little to blame. But the female eye generally did find fault. Eva -was much too pretty a girl to escape remark. - -This vision of loveliness walked demurely down the garden path to -gladden the eyes of a young man lingering at the gate. He, eagerly -expecting the descent of Venus, quickly removed his Panama hat, and -looked at the goddess with admiring eyes, eloquent of unspoken -praise. Eva, feeling, rather than meeting, their fervid gaze, halted -within the barrier and blushed as red as the roses in her belt. Then -she ventured to look at her lover, and smiled a welcome. - -Certainly the lover was not unworthy of the lass, so far as looks -went. Allen Hill was as dark as Eva was fair. Indeed, he more -resembled a Spaniard than an Englishman. His oval face, smooth and -clean-shaven save for a small, smartly pointed moustache, was -swarthy, his eyes were wonderfully black and large, and his closely -clipped hair might be compared to the hue of the raven's wing. His -slim figure was clothed in white flannels, so well cut and spotless -that they conveyed a suspicion that the young gentleman was something -of a dandy. He looked more like a poet than a mining engineer. - -Yet an engineer he was, and had travelled over the greater part of -the world with his eyes open. These looked languid enough as a rule, -but they could blaze with a fighting light, as his associates in the -lands at the back of Beyond knew. At thirty years of age Allen knew -quite as much as was good for him, and knew also how to utilise his -knowledge. In many lands he had seen fair women, but none had -captured his heart as had this dewy, fragrant English rose. - -Six months earlier the two had met at a garden party. Allen came and -saw, and Eva--as women always do--conquered. The engineer's heart, -being tinder, caught fire easily and began to blaze with a fiery -flame not to be extinguished by reason. Eva herself, not being -tame either, rather liked this Sabine courtship, and did not leave -Allen long in doubt as to the way in which she regarded his -audacious advances. The result was that in a few months they became -engaged, and the flower-time of their love came almost as -speedily as did that of Romeo and Juliet. But now, as Eva well knew, -the common sense of the world was about to chill their ardour. She -had this very evening to inform this eager, whole-hearted lover -that her father refused to sanction the engagement. No easy task, -seeing she loved the man with her whole heart and soul. - -"My dear, my love," murmured Allen, as the gate closed behind -the girl: and he would have embraced her in the public road, but -that she dexterously evaded his widely spread arms. - -"Not here--not here," she whispered hurriedly, and with a fine -colour; "it's too public, you stupid boy." - -The stupid boy, cheated of his treat, glared up and down the road, -"I don't see any one," he grumbled. - -"Eyes at those windows," said Eva, waving a slim hand towards a -row of thatched cottages, "and tongues also." - -"I am not ashamed of our love. I wish the whole world knew of it." - -"The whole world probably does," rejoined Miss Strode, a trifle -drily; "if any one saw you with those eyes and that look, -and--oh, you ridiculous boy!" and she shook her finger at him. - -"Oh, you coquette. Can't we----" - -"On the common we can talk, if that is what you mean," said Eva, -turning away to trip up the dusty road; "the common," she cried -with a backward look which should have drawn the young man after -her at a fine pace. - -But Allen lingered for a moment. Deeply in love as he was, he had -his own ideas regarding the management of the fair sex. He knew that -when a woman is sure of her swain she is apt to be exacting, so as -to check his ardour. On the other hand, if the swain hangs back, the -maid comes forward with winsome looks. Hitherto, Allen had been all -passion and surrender. Now he thought he would tease Eva a little, -by not coming immediately to her beck and call. Therefore, while she -skipped ahead--and without looking back, so sure was she that Allen -followed--the young man lighted a cigarette, and when the smoke -perfumed the air, looked everywhere save in the direction he desired -to look. North, south, west looked Allen, but never east, where -could be seen the rising sun of his love. But passion proved to be -stronger than principle, and finally his eyes fastened on the -shadowy figure of Eva pausing on the edge of the common. She was -looking back now, and beckoned with persuasive finger. Allen made a -step forward to follow the siren, then halted. A strange feeling -took possession of him. Allen's mother was Scotch, and having the -impressionable Celtic nature, he was quick to feel the influences of -that unseen world which lies all round, invisible to dull eyes, and -unfelt by material souls. At the moment, in spite of the warmth, he -had what the Scotch call a "grue," and shivered where he stood. At -his back sank the sun red and angry, peering through lines of black -cloud suggestive of prison bars. The scarlet light flooded the -landscape in a sinister manner, and dyed the flitting figure of Eva -in crimson hues. She looked as though bathed in blood, and--as she -was now speeding towards the trysting place--as though she fled from -justice. Also, she ran from the red west into the gloom of the east, -already shadowy with the coming night. Was there no parable in this? -considered Allen, and shivered again. - -"Indigestion," thought Allen, striving to throw off that weird feeling -and trying to explain it in the most commonplace way. But he knew well -that he had never in his life suffered from indigestion, and that the -feeling--which had now passed away--was a hint of coming evil. "To me, -I hope," murmured the young man, stepping out briskly, "not to Eva, -poor darling." - -When he joined the girl, he was quite his old fervid self, and felt -his premonitions pass away in the charm of the hour. Even the sunset -was less scarlet and more of a rosy tint like his new thoughts. He -threw himself at the feet of his beloved, cast away his cigarette, and -took her hand within his. For the moment Dan Cupid was king. - -But was he? Eva did not appear to think so. She allowed her hand to -remain in Allen's warm grip, but he felt no responsive pressure. -The two were seated on a rustic bench within a circle of flowering -gorse. The sward was green and smooth, worthy of the dancing feet -of Titania's elves, and perhaps it might have been one of their -ballrooms the lovers had invaded. In that case it would certainly -prove unhappy ground to them. The fairies do not like mortals, -however loving, who intrude on their privacy. The elves, however, -not yet awakened by the moon, made no sign, and in that still place -no sound could be heard. Overhead was the flushed sky, underfoot -the emerald sward, and there were the lovers supplied with an -admirable stage on which to play their parts. Allen was willing -enough, and looked up adoringly into the face of his Juliet. But -Eva's gaze was fixed on the orange-hued blossom of the gorse with a -far-away look. And when she spoke, it certainly was not of love. - -"Allen," she said, in a calm, level voice, "we have known each other -for nearly a year." - -"Call it a century," said Allen, kissing her hand. "I love you and -you love me. Why talk of time? Love like ours lives in eternity." - -"Hum," said Eva, although the ejaculation was not a pretty one, the -question is, "Will it live at all?" - -"Eva!" He raised himself on his elbow and stared; but the girl -continued to speak without looking at him. - -"Do you know my history, Allen?" she asked; then without waiting for -his reply, went on in a passionless way: "My father is the last -Strode of Wargrove. The manor house of our race is only a few miles -away, and there the Strodes lived for centuries. My grandfather, -however, was an extravagant man, and lost all the money. When my -father returned from Oxford to take up his position in the world, he -found that his father was dead and that the estate would have to be -sold to pay the debts. In that way, Allen, the manor passed from our -family." - -"I have heard something of this, Eva," said the perplexed young -man; "but why waste time in telling me of it now?" - -"You will find the time will not be wasted," rejoined Eva, -glancing down with something like pity; "let me go on. My -father, brought up in a luxurious way, took what money there -was left and went to seek work in London. He speculated, and -knowing nothing about speculation he lost everything. Then your -father, who was his friend at school and college, lent him some -thousands, and my father, to better his position, married Lady -Jane Delham, daughter of the Earl of Ipsen. I understand that -the money which she brought with her, was lost also--in -speculation." - -"But why did your father speculate so much?" asked Allen. - -"His one desire was to buy back the manor," said Eva. "He -has much pride of race, and wants to end his days under -the roof where he was born. But let me go on once more. The -money was lost, and Lord Ipsen died. His title went to a -distant cousin, who did not like my mother, consequently there -was no chance of my father getting more money in that quarter. I -was born under Mrs. Merry's roof; but till the age of seven I -lived with my mother in a small Hampstead cottage. My father -went on speculating. Sometimes he made money, at other times he -lost it; but always, he followed the will-o'-the-wisp of -fortune, hoping to get back his old home. He then went to South -America, and took my mother with him. I was placed at school, -and until I was fifteen I never saw my parents." - -"Poor Eva, how lonely you must have been!" - -"I _was_ lonely, and yet--having seen so little of my parents I -don't know that I missed them so very much. My father stopped in Peru -till I was fifteen, and my mother with him. He came back poor, but -with sufficient money to speculate again. He therefore placed my -mother and me in Misery Castle." - -"Ridiculous name," muttered Allen uneasily. - -"A very appropriate name," said Eva with some bitterness, seeing -how unhappy Mrs. Merry is. "She had a bad husband and has a bad son. -My mother was also unhappy. Meeting her again after all those -years, I did my best to comfort her. But her heart was broken." - -"Your father?" asked Allen in a low voice. - -"Who else?" replied Eva, flushing, and the water came to her eyes. -"Oh! Allen, I do not wish to speak ill, or to think ill, of my -father; but--no," she broke off, suppressing herself. "I cannot -speak from what I have seen, and I judge no one, let alone my -father, on what I have heard. Mrs. Merry thinks badly of my father, -and my poor mother--ah! my poor mother! she said as little as she -could. But her heart was broken, Allen; she died of a broken heart -and a crushed spirit. I lost her five months after my father went -to seek his fortune in South Africa, and since then I have lived -alone with Mrs. Merry." - -"Poor Eva!" said Hill tenderly, and repossessed himself of the hand -which she had withdrawn. "But Mrs. Merry is good to you?" - -"Very--very good," said Miss Strode with emphasis. "She was my -nurse and foster-mother, Allen. When I was born my father came -here for a time before taking the Hampstead cottage. Well, Allen, -that is my history. My father all these five years has paid Mrs. -Merry for my board and lodging, and has sent home pocket-money -for me. But all that time he has never written me a tender. -letter." - -"Not even when his wife died?" - -"No. He wrote a few words of sympathy, but not those which a -father should have written to a motherless girl. From what I know -of him, and from what Mrs. Merry says, he is a hard, cold, -self-concentrated man. I dread his coming more than I can tell -you, Allen." - -"If he ever does come," said the young man softly. - -Eva started and looked down. "What do you mean by that?" she -asked anxiously. - -Allen met her gaze frankly and laughed. "Oh, you need not disturb -yourself, my dear," he said with a shrug, "only you know my father -and yours were always chums. Why, I don't know, as my father -is certainly not the kind of man to suit such a one as you -describe Mr. Strode to be. But they were chums at school and -college, and my father knows a lot about yours. When I mentioned -that your father was expected to-night, my father--it was at -breakfast--said that Mr. Strode might not arrive after all. I did -not ask him what he meant." - -"Could Mr. Hill have heard from my father?" - -"I can't say, and even if he did, I don't know why my father -should suggest that Mr. Strode would not come home. But, Eva, you -are pale." - -"I feel pale," she said in a low voice. "Allen, sit beside me. I want -to talk seriously--to tell you a dream." - -The young man, nothing loath, promptly seated himself by her side -and slipped a strong, tender arm round her slender waist. Eva's -heart beat stronger when she found herself in such an assured haven. -It seemed as though Allen, noble and firm and loving, would be able -to shelter her from the coming storm. "And the storm will come," -she said aloud. - -"What is that?" asked Hill, not catching her meaning. - -"It is my dream," she answered; and then, with her head on his -shoulder, she told about her vision of the night. Allen was inclined -to make light of it. - -"You superstitious little darling," he said fondly, "the dream is -easily accounted for. You were thinking of your father, and, being -anxious about his arrival, dreamed what you did." - -Eva released herself, rather offended. "I was thinking of my father, I -admit," she said, "but I was not at all anxious. My father has been -all over the world, and in wild parts, so he can look after himself -very well. Besides, I never thought of the Red Deeps. And remember, -Allen, I saw the right hand, gloved." - -"That would seem to intimate that the dead man you saw in your dream -was Mr. Strode," said Allen, kissing her; "but it's all nonsense, -Eva." - -"You don't think anything will happen?" she demanded, anxious to be -reassured after Mrs. Merry's gloomy talk. - -"No, I don't. I have known of lots of dreams quite vivid which -never came true. I'm not a scientific chap," added Allen, laughing, -"or I would be able to prove that this dream is only a reflex of -your waking thoughts. Mr. Strode will arrive all right." - -"And then we must part," sighed Eva. - -This time it was Hill who started, and his face flushed. "I -don't quite understand." - -"You will soon. I told you the history of my life, Allen, so -that I might lead up to this. I wrote to my father at Cape -Town, telling him I loved you, and that Mr. Hill was pleased we -should be engaged." - -"My father was delighted," put in Allen quickly. - -"So I said. My father never replied to my letter save in sending -a cablegram stating he was coming home in the _Dunoon Castle_. -When he was at Southampton, he wrote, saying I was not to think -of marrying you, and that he would tell me of his plans for my -future when he returned to Wargrove. He decided to remain for a -week in London, and yesterday he wired that he was coming home -to-night. So you see, Allen," Eva rested her head on her lover's -shoulder, "he will part us." - -"No!" cried Hill, rising and looking very tall and strong and -determined, "he will never do that. What reason----" - -"My father is a man who will refuse to give his reason." - -"Not to me," rejoined the other hotly. "Mr. Strode will not dare -to dismiss me in so easy and off-hand a fashion. I love you, Eva, -and I marry you, whatever your father may say. Unless," he caught -her hands as she rose, and stared deep into her eyes, "unless you -leave me." - -"No! no! I never will do that, Allen. Come what may, I'll be -true." - -Then followed an interlude of kisses, and afterwards the two, -hand in hand, walked across the common on their way to Misery -Castle. It was not seven o'clock, but the twilight was growing -darker. "Do you know what your father's plans are?" asked Allen, -as they stepped out on to the deserted and dusty road. - -"No. I know nothing save what I tell you. And my dream----" - -"Dearest, put the dream out of your head. If it is any comfort to -you, I'll go to the Red Deeps to-night. Do you think I'll find a -dead body there?" he asked, laughing. - -"Not if you go before nine o'clock. The dream was at nine last night." - -"But your father will be home at eight, Eva?" - -"I hope so," she murmured. - -"You are so foolishly superstitious," said Allen, pressing her arm -which was within his own; "you dear little goose, don't you see that -if your father comes to Misery Castle at eight, he can't possibly -be lying dead in the Red Deeps at nine. When did you last hear from -him, Eva?" - -"Yesterday morning. He wired that he would be down at eight this -evening." - -"Well then, he was alive then, and is stopping in town on -business as you said. He will come to Westhaven by the train -arriving at six-thirty and will drive over." - -"The road passes the Red Deeps," insisted Eva. - -"How obstinate you are, Eva," said Allen, contracting his forehead; -"I tell you what I'll do to set your mind at rest; you know he is -alive now?" - -"Yes, I suppose so. I got that wire yesterday morning." - -"Well then, I'll set off to the Red Deeps at once, and will get -there just at eight. I may meet Mr. Strode coming along in the -fly, and if so I'll follow it back to Misery Castle, so as to see -him safely home. If I don't, I'll go to the Red Deeps, and if any -attack is made on him, I'll be there to give him a hand." - -"Thank you, Allen. I should be more at ease if you did that." - -"Then it shall be done," said Allen, kissing her, "but I feel -that I am encouraging you in superstitious fancies." - -"My dream was so vivid." - -"Pooh. Indigestion." - -"Then Mr. Hill hinted that my father might not return." - -"Well then, I'll ask him what he meant, and explain when we meet -again." - -"If we ever do meet," sighed Eva, stopping at the gate. - -"You will be true to me, Eva?" - -"Always--always--always. There--there," she kissed him under the -friendly shelter of the sycamore and ran indoors. - -Allen turned on his heel in high spirits, and set out for the -Red Deeps. At first he laughed at Eva's dream and Eva's -superstition. But as he walked on in the gathering darkness, he -felt as though the future also was growing more gloomy. He -recalled his own feelings of the girl's dress dappled with -blood, and of her flying form. Again he felt the "grue," and -cursed himself for an old woman. "I'll find nothing--nothing," -he said, trying to laugh. - -But the shadow of the dream, which was also the shadow of the -future, fell upon him darker than ever. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE NE'ER-DO-WEEL - - -Anxious to make the best impression on her father, Eva Strode ran up -to her room to put on an evening gown. Mr. Strode supplied her -liberally with money, for whatever his faults may have been, he -certainly was not mean; therefore she possessed a fairly extensive -wardrobe. She did not see Mrs. Merry on entering the cottage, as that -good lady was occupied in looking after the dinner in the little -back-kitchen. The table was laid, however, and after making herself -smart, Eva descended to add a few finishing touches in the shape of -flowers. - -Cheered by the view Allen took of her dream, and still more by the -fact that he had gone to the Red Deeps, Eva arranged many roses, red -and white, in a great silver bowl which had belonged to her mother. As -a matter of fact, Eva had been born in Misery Castle, and being sickly -as a baby, had been christened hurriedly in the cottage out of the -bowl, an heirloom of the Delham family. Mrs. Merry had taken -possession of it, knowing, that if Lady Jane took it away, her husband -would speedily turn it into money. Therefore, Mrs. Merry being a -faithful guardian, the bowl was still in the cottage, and on this -night Eva used it as a centrepiece to the prettily decorated table. -And it did look pretty. The cloth was whiter than snow, the silver -sparkled and the crystal glittered, while the roses blooming in the -massive bowl added a touch of needed colour. - -There were evidences of Eva's taste in the small dining-room. Mrs. -Merry had furnished it, certainly, but Eva had spent much of her -pocket-money in decorating the room. Everything was charming and -dainty and intensely feminine. Any one could see at a glance that it -was a true woman's room. And Eva in her black gauze dress, -bare-necked and bare-armed, flitted gracefully about the tiny -apartment. Her last act was to light the red-shaded lamp which hung -low over the table. The window she left open and the blind up, as the -night was hot, and the breeze which cooled the room made the place -more bearable. - -"It's quite pretty," said Eva, standing back against the door to get -the effect of the glittering table and the red light and the flowers. -"If father is dissatisfied he must be hard to please," she sighed, -"and from what Nanny says, I fear he is. A quarter to eight, he'll be -here soon. I'd better see when the dinner will be ready." - -But before doing so, she went to the front door and listened for the -sound of wheels. She certainly heard them, but the vehicle was -driving towards, and not from, the common. Apparently Mr. Strode was -not yet at hand, so she went to the kitchen. To her surprise she -heard voices. One was that of Mrs. Merry, querulous as usual, and the -other a rich, soft, melodious voice which Eva knew only too well. It -was that of her foster-brother Cain. - -This name was another of Mrs. Merry's eccentricities. Her husband, -showing the brute within him a year after marriage, had disillusioned -his poor wife very speedily. He was drunk when the boy was born, and -still drunk when the boy was christened; Mrs. Merry therefore -insisted that the boy would probably take after his father, and -requested that the name of Cain should be given to him. The -curate objected, but Mrs. Merry being firm and the curate weak, the -boy was actually called after Adam's eldest son. Had the rector -been at home such a scandal--as he regarded it--would not have -occurred, but Mr. Quain was absent on a holiday, and returned to -find an addition to his flock in the baby person of Cain Merry. The -lad grew up handsome enough, but sufficiently wild and wicked to -justify his mother's choice of a name. Yet he had his good moments, -and might have improved had not his mother nagged him into -wrong-doing. - -"Well, Cain," said Eva, entering the kitchen, "so you're back?" - -"Like a bad penny," cried Mrs. Merry, viciously stabbing some potatoes -with a fork; "six months he's been away, and----" - -"And I'd remained longer if I'd thought of getting this welcome, -mother," growled Cain sulkily. "But I might have known." - -He was a remarkably handsome lad of eighteen, almost as dark as Allen -Hill. As Mr. Merry had gipsy blood in his veins, it was probable -that Cain inherited the nature and looks of some splendid -Romany ancestor. With his smooth dark skin, under which the -rich red blood mantled, his eyes large and black as night, and -clearly-cut features, Cain looked as handsome as a picture. Not -even the rough dress he wore, which was that of a labourer, could -disguise his fine figure and youthful grace. He looked like a young -panther, sleek, beautiful, and dangerous. Cap on head, he leaned -against the jamb of the outer door--his mother would not allow him to -come further--and seemed a young Apollo, so slim and graceful did he -appear. But Mrs. Merry, gesticulating with the fork, had no eye for -his good looks. He reminded her too much of the absent Merry, who was -just such a splendid outlaw, when he won her to a bitterly regretted -marriage. Cain, meeting with so unpleasant a reception, was sulky and -inclined to be defiant, until Eva entered. Then he removed his cap, -and became wonderfully meek. He was fond of his foster-sister, who -could do much with him. - -"When did you come back, Cain?" she asked. - -"Ten minutes ago, and mother's been ragging me ever since," he -replied; "flesh and blood can't stand it, Miss Eva, I'll go." - -"No you won't," struck in Mrs. Merry, "you'll stop and give the mother -who bore you--worse luck--the pleasure of your company." - -Cain grinned in a sleepy manner. "Not much pleasure for me." - -"Nor for me, you great hulking creature," said Mrs. Merry, -threatening him with a fork. "I thought you'd grow up to be a -comfort to me, but look at you----" - -"If you thought I'd be a comfort, why did you call me Cain, mother?" - -"Because I knew what you'd turn out," contradicted Mrs. Merry, "just -like your father, oh, dear me, just like him. Have you seen anything -of your father, Cain?" - -"No," said Cain stolidly, "and I don't want to." - -"That's right, deny the author of your being. Your father, who -was always a bad one, left me fifteen years ago, just after you -were born. The cottage was not then my own, or he'd never have -left me. But there, thank heaven," cried Mrs. Merry, throwing up -her eyes to the smoky ceiling, "father didn't die and leave me -well off, till Giles went! Since that I've heard nothing of him. -He was reported dead----" - -"You said you heard nothing of him, mother," put in Cain, smiling. - -"Don't show your teeth in that way at your mother," snapped Mrs. -Merry, "what I say, I say, and no mistake. Your father was -reported dead, and as he's left me for seven years and more, I -could marry again, if I were such a fool. But I haven't, hoping -you'd be a comfort to the mother who brought you into the world. -But you were always a bad boy, Cain. You played truant from -school, you ran away to become a navvy at thirteen, and again and -again you came back in rags." - -"I'm not in rags now," said Cain, restive under this tongue. - -"Then you must have stolen the clothes," retorted his mother; "I'll be -bound you didn't come by them honestly: not as they're much." - -While this pleasant conversation was going on Eva stood mute. She -knew of old how impossible it was to stop Mrs. Merry's tongue, and -thought it best to let her talk herself out. But the last speech -made Cain laugh, and he was cool enough to wink at Eva. She knew -Cain so intimately, and really liked him so much in spite of his -wickedness, that she did not take offence, but strove to turn from -him the wrathful speech of his mother. - -"I am sure Cain has turned over a new leaf," she said, smiling. - -"He's turned over volumes of 'em," groaned Mrs. Merry, dashing -down a pot on the range, "but each page is worst nor the last. -Oh, I know what I'm saying," she went on triumphantly. "I was a -farmer's daughter and had three years' schooling, not to speak of -having mixed with the aristocracy in the person of your dear ma, -Miss Eva, and your own blessed self as is always a lady. But -Cain--oh, look at him." - -"He looks very well," said Eva, "and he looks hungry. Don't you -think you might give him a meal, Mrs. Merry?" - -"Kill the fatted calf, as you might say," suggested Cain impudently. - -"Calf!" screeched Mrs. Merry, "you're one yourself, Cain, to talk -like that with Miss Eva present. Ain't you got no respect?" - -"Miss Eva knows I mean no harm," said the goaded Cain. - -"Of course you don't," said Miss Strode; "come, Mrs. Merry, the boy's -home for good now." - -"For bad, you mean." - -"I'm not home at all," said Cain unexpectedly. "I'm working at -Westhaven, but I came over just to see my mother. If she -don't want me I can go back to those who do," and he turned -to go. - -"No. Stop," cried Mrs. Merry, whose bark was worse than her -bite. "I shan't let a growing lad like you tramp back all them ten -miles with a starving inside. Wait till I get this dinner off my mind, -and the pair of us will sit down like Christians to eat it." - -Eva stared and laughed. "You forget nurse: this dinner is for my -father. He should be here in a few minutes." - -Mrs. Merry turned grey. "I ain't forgot your dream, my dear. -He'll never eat it for want of breath, nor you for sorrow. Now, -Cain----" - -Miss Strode, who had a temper of her own, stamped a pretty slippered -foot imperiously. "Hold your tongue, Mrs. Merry," she cried, the -colour rising in her cheeks, "my father will arrive." - -The old woman glanced at the American clock which stood on the -mantelpiece. The small hand pointed to eight. "He ain't come yet." - -"Cain," said Eva, turning, still flushed, to the lad, "you came along -the Westhaven road?" - -Cain nodded. "Twenty minutes ago, Miss Eva," said he. - -"Did you see my father? No, you don't remember my father. Did you -see a fly coming along?" - -"No. But then I didn't come along the road all the time. I took a -short cut across country, Miss Eva. I'll just have a meal with -mother, and then go back to my business." - -"And what is your business, I'd like to know?" questioned Mrs. Merry -sharply; "a fine business it must be to take you from your mother." - -"I'm in a circus." - -"What, riding on horses in tights!" cried Mrs. Merry aghast. - -"No such luck. I'm only a groom. I got the billet when I was in -London, and glad enough I was, seeing how hard up I've been. It's -Stag's Circus and a good show. I hope you'll come over to Shanton -to-morrow, Miss Eva; there's a performance at night, and you'll see -some riding. Ah, Miss Lorry can ride a bit!" - -"Miss who?" asked Eva, who, with the kitchen door open, was straining -her ears to hear if Mr. Strode was coming. - -"Some low female, I'll be bound," snorted Mrs. Merry. "I've seen 'em -dancing in pink stockings and raddling their brazen cheeks with -paint. She's no better than she ought to be, not she, say what you -like." - -Cain grew angry. "You're quite wrong, mother," said he. "Miss Lorry is -very much respected. She rides her own horse, White Robin, and has -appeared before crowned heads. She's billed as the Queen of the Arena, -and is a thing of beauty." - -"Ha!" said Mrs. Merry sharply, "and you love her. Ho! You that told -me you loved that freckle-faced, snub-nosed Jane Wasp, the daughter -o' that upsetting Wasp policeman, with his duty-chatter, and----" - -"I don't love any one," said Cain, putting on his cap; "and if you -talk like that I'll go." - -"To marry a circus rider. Never enter my doors again if you do. I've -got this cottage and fifty pounds a year, inherited from my father, to -leave, remember." - -"Dear nurse," said Eva soothingly, "Cain has no idea of marrying." - -"Miss Lorry wouldn't have me if I had," said Cain sadly, though his -black eyes flashed fire; "why, Lord Saltars is after her." - -"What!" shrieked Mrs. Merry, turning sharply. "Miss Eva's cousin?" - -Cain looked astonished. "Is he your cousin?" he asked. - -"Yes, Cain--a distant cousin. He is the eldest son of Lord Ipsen. -My mother was the daughter of the last Earl. Is he in Westhaven?" - -"Yes, miss. He follows the circus everywhere, for love of her." -"We don't want to hear about those things," said Mrs. Merry sharply; -"leave your Lorries and rubbish alone, and go and wash in my room. -I'll get the dinner ready soon, and then we can sit down for a chat." - -"Another bullying," grumbled Cain, throwing down his cap and -preparing to take a seat. But he never did. At that moment there came -a long shrill whistle with several modulations like a bird's note. -Cain started, and cocked his handsome head on one side. The whistle -was repeated, upon which, without a word either to his mother or Miss -Strode, he dashed out of the kitchen. - -"There," said Mrs. Merry, waving the fork, "to treat his own lawful -mother in that way--to say nothing of you, Miss Eva." - -"He'll come back soon," replied Eva. - -"Oh, he will, if there's money and food about. But he'll get neither, -after behaving in that way. That my son should belong to a circus! -Ah, I always said Cain was born for the gallows, like his father." - -"But you don't know if his father----" - -"I know what I know," replied Mrs. Merry with dignity, "which is to -say, nothing. But Giles is what Giles was, and has everything -likely to bring him to a rope's end. I'll be the wife of one -hanged man," added the old woman with relish, "and the mother of -another. Then my cup of misery will be full enough. But, bless -me, Miss Eva, don't stay here, getting that pretty dress all -greasy. Go and wait for your pa in the doring-room, and I'll -bring in the dinner as soon as I hear him swearing--for swear he -will, if he arrive." - -"Of course he'll arrive," said Eva impatiently, looking at the -clock, which now indicated five minutes past eight; "he's a -little late." - -Mrs. Merry shook her head. "He'll not come. He's in the Red Deeps, -lying face downward in the mud." - -Eva grew angry at this persistent pessimism, but nothing she -could say or do, was able to change Mrs. Merry's opinion. Finding -that more talk with the prophetess only made her angry, Eva -returned to the front of the house, and, sitting in the -drawing-room, took up the last fashionable novel which she had -borrowed. But not all the talent of the author was able to -enchain her attention. She kept thinking of her father and of the -Red Deeps, and kept also looking at the clock. It was drawing to -nine when she went again to the front door, subsequently to the -gate. - -There was no sign of Cain coming back. He had appeared like a -ghost and had vanished as one. Why the whistle should have made -him turn pale and take so abrupt a departure, Eva was not able -to say. Moreover, the non-arrival of her father fully occupied -her attention. She could not believe that her dream, vivid as it -had been, would prove true and set down her nervous fears, which -were now beginning to get the upper hand, to Mrs. Merry's chatter. -That old woman appeared at her elbow while she leaned over the -gate, looking down the road. - -"He ain't come," croaked Mrs. Merry. "Bless you, deary, of course -he ain't. I know where he is, and you saw him in your dream." - -"Nonsense," said Eva, and ran out on to the road. A few people were -passing--mostly villagers, but Eva was well known and no one was -surprised at seeing her hatless. Even if any one had expressed -surprise, she was too anxious to trouble much about public opinion. - -"Aaron," she asked an old man who came trudging down from the common, -"did you see my father coming along in a fly?" - -"Why, miss," said Aaron scratching his shock head, "it's a matter -of five year since I saw your father, and I don't rightly know as -I'd tell him. But I ain't seen nothing but carts this evening, ay, -and you might say bicycles." - -"No fly?" - -"Not one, miss. Good-evening. I dare say your father will walk, -miss, by reason of the hot evening." - -This suggestion was the very reverse of what Mr. Strode would do, -he being a gentleman mindful of his own comfort. However, after the -rustic had departed, Eva ran up as far as the common. There was no -sign of any vehicle, so she returned to the cottage. Mrs. Merry met -her at the door. - -"The dinner spiling," said Mrs. Merry crossly; "do come and eat -some, Miss Eva, and I'll keep the dishes hot." - -"No, I'll wait till my father comes. Is Cain back?" - -"Not a sign of him. But, lor bless you, deary, I never expected -it, not me. He's gone to his circuses; to think that a son of -mine----" - -But the girl was in no humour to hear the lamentations of Mrs. -Merry over the decay of her family, and returned to the -drawing-room. There she sat down again and began to read--or try -to. - -Mrs. Merry came in at half-past nine, and brought a cup of tea, -with a slice of toast. Eva drank the tea, but declined the -toast, and the old woman retired angrily, to remove the -spoilt dinner. Then Eva played a game of patience, and at ten -threw down the cards in despair. The non-arrival of her -father, coupled with her dream, made her restless and uneasy. -"I wish Allen would return," she said aloud. But Allen never -appeared, although by now he had ample time to reach the Red -Deeps and to return therefrom. It was in Eva's mind to go to -Mr. Hill's house, which was at the further end of Wargrove -village, but a mindful thought of Mr. Hill's jokes, which were -usually irritating, made her hesitate. She therefore went back to -the kitchen, and spoke to Mrs. Merry, who was crooning over the -fire. - -"What are you doing?" she asked snappishly, for her nerves, poor girl, -were worn thin by this time. - -"I'm waiting for the body," said Mrs. Merry grimly. - -Eva bit her lip to keep down her anger, and returned to the -drawing-room, where she wandered hopelessly up and down. While -straining her ears she heard footsteps and ran to the door. It -proved to be a telegraph boy, dusty and breathless. Eva -snatched the wire from him, although she was surprised at its -late arrival. As she opened the envelope, the boy explained -needlessly-- - -"It come at four," he said, "and I forgot to bring it, so the Head -sent me on all these ten mile, miss, at this hour by way of -punishment. And I ain't had no supper," added the injured youth. - -But Eva did not heed him. She was reading the wire, which said that -Mr. Strode had postponed his departure from town till the morrow, -and would then be down by mid-day. "There's no reply," said Eva curtly, -and went to the kitchen for the fifth time that evening. The messenger -boy grumbled at not getting a shilling for his trouble, quite -forgetting that the late arrival of the wire was due to his own -carelessness. He banged the front gate angrily, and shortly rode off -on his red-painted bicycle. - -"My father's coming to-morrow," said Eva, showing the telegram. - -Mrs. Merry read it, and gave back the pink paper. "Let them believe it -as does believe," said she, "but he'll not come." - -"But the wire is signed by himself, you stupid woman," said Eva. - -"Well and good," said Mrs. Merry, "but dreams are dreams, whatever you -may say, deary. Your pa was coming before and put it off; now he put -it off again, and----" - -"Then you believe he sent the wire. There, there, I know you will -contradict me," said Miss Strode crossly, "I'm going to bed." - -"You'll be woke up soon," cried Mrs. Merry after her; "them knocks----" - -Eva heard no more. She went to her room, and, wearied out by -waiting and anxiety, retired speedily to bed. Mrs. Merry remained -seated before the kitchen fire, and even when twelve struck she -did not move. The striking of the clock woke Eva. She sat up -half asleep, but was speedily wide awake. She heard footsteps, -and listened breathlessly. A sharp knock came to the front door. -Then four soft knocks. With a cry she sprang from her bed, and -ran to the door. Mrs. Merry met her, and kept her back. - -"They've brought him home, miss," she said; "the dream's come true." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -MYSTERY - - -Mr. Hill's house at the far end of the village was an -eccentric building. Originally it had been a labourer's -cottage, and stood by itself, a stone-throw away from the crooked -highway which bisected Wargrove. On arriving in the neighbourhood -some twenty-five years before, Mr. Hill had bought the cottage and -five acres of land around. These he enclosed with a high wall of red -brick, and then set to work to turn the cottage into a mansion. As -he was his own architect, the result was a strange mingling of -styles. - -The original cottage remained much as it was, with a thatched roof and -whitewashed walls. But to the left, rose a round tower built quite -in the mediæval style, to the right stretched a two-story mansion -with oriel windows, a terrace and Tudor battlements. At the back of -this, the building suddenly changed to a bungalow with a tropical -verandah, and the round tower stood at the end of a range of buildings -built in the Roman fashion with sham marble pillars, and mosaic -encrusted walls. Within, the house was equally eccentric. There was a -Spanish patio, turned, for the sake of the climate, into a winter -garden and roofed with glass. The dining-room was Jacobean, the -drawing-room was furnished in the Louis Quatorze style, Mr. Hill's -library was quite an old English room with casements and a low roof. -There were many bedrooms built in the severe graceful Greek fashion, -a large marble swimming-bath after the ancient Roman type, and Mr. -Hill possessed a Japanese room, all bamboo furniture and quaintly -pictured walls, for his more frivolous moods. Finally there was the -music-room with a great organ, and this room was made in the -similitude of a church. On these freaks and fancies Mr. Hill spent a -good deal of money, and the result was an _olla-podrida_ of -buildings, jumbled together without rhyme or reason. Such a -mansion--if it could be called so--might exist in a nightmare, but -only Mr. Hill could have translated it into fact. Within and -without, the place was an example of many moods. It illustrated -perfectly the mind of its architect and owner. - -Allen's father was a small, delicate, dainty little man with a large -head and a large voice, which boomed like a gong when he was angry. -The man's head was clever and he had a fine forehead, but there was -a streak of madness in him, which led him to indulge himself in -whatever mood came uppermost. He did not exercise the least -self-control, and expected all around him to give way to his whims, -which were many and not always agreeable. Some one called Mr. Hill a -brownie, and he was not unlike the pictures of that queer race of -elves. His body was shapely enough, but as his legs were thin and -slightly twisted, these, with his large head, gave him a strange -appearance. His face was clean-shaven, pink and white, with no -wrinkles. He had a beautifully formed mouth and a set of splendid -teeth. His fair hair, slightly--very slightly--streaked with grey, -he wore long, and had a trick of passing his hand through it when he -thought he had said anything clever. His hands were delicate--real -artistic hands--but his feet were large and ill-formed. He strove -always to hide these by wearing wide trousers. Both in winter and -summer he wore a brown velvet coat and white serge trousers, no -waistcoat, and a frilled shirt with a waistband of some gaudy Eastern -stuff sparkling with gold thread and rainbow hues. When he went out, -he wore a straw hat with a gigantic brim, and as he was considerably -under the ordinary height, he looked strange in this headgear. But -however queer his garb may have been in the daytime, at night Mr. Hill -was always accurately attired in evening dress of the latest cut, and -appeared a quiet, if somewhat odd, English gentleman. - -This strange creature lived on his emotions. One day he would be all -gaiety and mirth; the next morning would see him silent and sad. At -times he played the organ, the piano, the violin; again he would take -to painting; then he would write poems, and anon his mood would change -to a religious one. Not that he was truly religious. He was a -Theosophist, a Spiritualist, sometimes a Roman Catholic, and at times -a follower of Calvin. Lately he fancied that he would like to be a -Buddhist. His library, a large one, was composed of various books -bought in different moods, which illustrated--like his house--the -queer jumbled mind of the man. Yet with all his eccentricity Mr. Hill -was far from being mad. He was clever at a bargain, and took good care -of the wealth, which he had inherited from his father, who had been a -stockbroker. At times Mr. Hill could talk cleverly and in a -businesslike way; at others, he was all fantasy and vague dreams. -Altogether an irritating creature. People said they wondered how Mrs. -Hill could put up with such a changeling in the house. - -Mrs. Hill put up with it--though the general public did not know -this--simply for the sake of Allen, whom she adored. It was strange -that Allen, tall, stalwart, practical, and quiet, with a steadfast -mind and an open nature, should be the son of the freakish creature -he called father. But the young man was in every way his mother's -son. Mrs. Hill was tall, lean, and quiet in manner. Like Mrs. Merry, -she usually wore black, and she moved silently about the house, never -speaking, unless she was spoken too. Originally she had been a bright -girl, but marriage with the brownie had sobered her. Several times -during her early married life she was on the point of leaving Hill, -thinking she had married a madman, but when Allen was born, Mrs. Hill -resolved to endure her lot for the sake of the boy. Hill had the -money, and would not allow the control of it to pass out of his -hands. Mrs. Hill had come to him a pauper, the daughter of an -aristocratic scamp who had gambled away a fortune. Therefore, so that -Allen might inherit his father's wealth, which was considerable, the -poor woman bore with her strange husband. Not that Hill was unkind. -He was simply selfish, emotional, exacting, and irritating. Mrs. Hill -never interfered with his whims, knowing from experience that -interference would be useless. She was a cypher in the house, and -left everything to her husband. Hill looked after the servants, -arranged the meals, ordered the routine, and danced through life like -an industrious butterfly. - -As to Allen, he had speedily found that such a life was unbearable, -and for the most part remained away. He had early gone to a public -school, and had left it for college; then he had studied in London -to be an engineer and took the first opportunity to procure work -beyond the seas. He wrote constantly to his mother, but hardly ever -corresponded with his father. When he came to England he stopped at -"The Arabian Nights"--so the jumbled house was oddly named by its -odd owner--but always, he had gone away in a month. On this -occasion the meeting with Eva kept him in Wargrove, and he wished -to be sure of her father's consent to the match before he went back -to South America. Meantime his partner carried on the business in -Cuzco. Mr. Hill was not ill pleased that Allen should stop, as he -was really fond of his son in his own elfish way. Also he approved -of the engagement to Eva, for whose beauty he had a great admiration. - -On the morning after Mr. Strode's expected arrival, the three -people who dwelt in "The Arabian Nights' were seated in the -Jacobean dining-room. Mr. Hill, in his invariable brown velvet coat -with a rose in his buttonhole and a shining morning face, was -devouring _pâté-de-foie-gras_ sandwiches, and drinking claret. At -times he took a regular English egg-and-bacon coffee and marmalade -breakfast, but he varied his meals as much as he did his -amusements. One morning, bread and milk; the next he would imitate -Daniel and his friends to the extent of living on pulse and water; -then a Continental roll and coffee would appeal to him; and -finally, as on the present occasion, he would eat viands more -suited to a luncheon than to a breakfast. However, on this especial -morning he announced that he was in a musical mood, and intended -to compose during the day. - -"Therefore," said Mr. Hill, sipping his claret and trifling with -his sandwiches, "the stomach must not be laden with food. This," -he touched the sandwiches, "is nourishment to sustain life, during -the struggle with melody, and the wine is of a delicate thin -nature which maketh the heart glad without leading to the vice of -intoxication. Burgundy, I grant you, is too heavy. Champagne might -do much to raise the airy fancy, but I believe in claret, which -makes blood; and the brain during the agonies of composition needs -a placid flow of blood." - -Mrs. Hill smiled wearily at this speech and went on eating. She -and Allen were engaged in disposing of a regular English meal, -but neither seemed to enjoy the food. Mrs. Hill, silent and -unemotional, ate like one who needs food to live, and not as -though she cared for the victuals. Allen looked pale and -haggard. His face was white, and there were dark circles under -his eyes as though he had not slept. - -"Late hours," said his father, staring at him shrewdly; "did I -not hear you come in at two o'clock, Allen?" - -"Yes, sir;" Allen always addressed his parent in this stiff -fashion. "I was unavoidably late." - -Mrs. Hill cast an anxious look at his face, and her husband -finished his claret before making any reply. Then he spoke, folding -up his napkin as he did so. "When I gave you a latchkey," said Mr. -Hill in his deep, rich voice, "I did not expect it to be used -after midnight. Even the gayest of young men should be in bed -before that unholy hour." - -"I wasn't very gay," said Allen listlessly; "the fact is, father, I -sprained my ankle last night four miles away." - -"In what direction." - -"The Westhaven direction. I was going to the Red Deeps, and while -going I twisted my ankle. I lay on the moor--I was half way across -when I fell--for a long time waiting for help. As none came, I -managed to crawl home, and so reached here at two. I came on all -fours." - -"Humph," said Hill, "it's lucky Wasp didn't see you. With his ideas of -duty he would have run you in for being drunk." - -"I think I could have convinced Wasp to the contrary," said Allen -drily; "my mother bathed my ankle, and it is easier this morning." - -"But you should not have come down to breakfast," said Mrs. Hill. - - -"It would have put my father out, had I not come, mother." - -"Quite so," said Mr. Hill; "I am glad to hear that you try to -behave as a son. Besides, self-denial makes a man," added Mr. Hill, -who never denied himself anything. "Strange, Allen, I did not -notice that you limped--and I am an observant man." - -"I was seated here before you came down," his son reminded him. - -"True," said Mr. Hill, rising; "it is one of my late mornings. I was -dreaming of an opera. I intend, Allen, to compose an opera. -Saccharissa," thus he addressed Mrs. Hill, who was called plain -Sarah, "do you hear? I intend to immortalise myself." - -"I hear," said Saccharissa, quite unmoved. She had heard before, of -these schemes to immortalise Mr. Hill. - -"I shall call my opera 'Gwendoline,'" said Mr. Hill, passing his hand -through his hair; "it will be a Welsh opera. I don't think any one has -ever composed a Welsh opera, Allen." - -"I can't call one to mind, sir," said Allen, his eyes on his plate. - -"The opening chorus," began Mr. Hill, full of his theme, "will be----" - -"One moment, sir," interrupted Allen, who was not in the mood for this -trifling, "I want to ask you a question." - -"No! no! no! You will disturb the current of my thoughts. Would you -have the world lose a masterpiece, Allen?" - -"It is a very simple question, sir. Will you see Mr. Strode to-day?" - -Hill, who was looking out of the window and humming a theme for his -opening chorus, turned sharply. "Certainly not. I am occupied." - -"Mr. Strode is your oldest and best friend," urged Allen. - -"He has proved that by taking money from me," said Hill, with a -deep laugh. "Why should I see him?" - -"I want you to put in a good word for me and Eva. Of course," Allen -raised his eyes abruptly and looked directly at his father, "you -expected to see him this morning?" - -"No, I didn't," snapped the composer. "Strode and I were friends at -school and college, certainly, but we met rarely in after life. The -last time I saw him was when he brought his wife down here." - -"Poor Lady Jane," sighed Mrs. Hill, who was seated with folded hands. - -"You may well say that, Saccharissa. She was wedded to a clown----" - -"I thought Mr. Strode was a clever and cultured man," said Allen -drily. - -"He should have been," said Mr. Hill, waving his hand and then -sticking it into the breast of his shirt. "I did my best to form him. -But flowers will not grow in clay, and Strode was made of stodgy clay. -A poor creature, and very quarrelsome." - -"That doesn't sound like stodgy clay, sir." - -"He varied, Allen, he varied. At times the immortal fire he buried in -his unfruitful soil would leap out at my behest; but for the most -part Strode was an uncultured yokel. The lambent flame of my fancy, -my ethereal fancy, played on the mass harmlessly, or with small -result. I could not submit to be bound even by friendship to such a -clod, so I got rid of Strode. And how did I do it? I lent him two -thousand pounds, and not being able to repay it, shame kept him away. -Cheap at the price--cheap at the price. Allen, how does this theme -strike you for an opening chorus of Druids--modern Druids, of course? -The scene is at Anglesea----" - -"Wait, father. You hinted the other morning that Mr. Strode would -never come back to Wargrove." - -"Did I?" said Mr. Hill in an airy manner; "I forget." - -"What grounds had you to say that?" - -"Grounds--oh, my dear Allen, are you so commonplace as to demand -grounds. I forget my train of thought just then--the fancy has -vanished: but I am sure that my grounds were such as you would not -understand. Why do you ask?" - -"I may as well be frank," began Allen, when his father stopped him. - -"No. It is so obvious to be frank. And to-day I am in an enigmatic -mood--music is an enigma, and therefore I wish to be mysterious." - -"I may as well be frank," repeated Allen doggedly, and doggedness -was the only way to meet such a trifler as Mr. Hill. "I saw Eva last -night, and she related a dream she had." - -"Ah!" Mr. Hill spun round vivaciously--"now you talk sense. I love -the psychic. A dream! Can Eva dream?--such a matter-of-fact girl." - -"Indeed she's no such thing, sir," said the indignant lover. - -"Pardon me. You are not a reader of character as I am. Eva Strode at -present possesses youth, to cover a commonplace soul. When she gets -old and the soul works through the mask of the face, she will be a -common-looking woman like your mother." - -"Oh!" said Allen, at this double insult. But Mrs. Hill laid her -hand on his arm, and the touch quietened him. It was useless to -be angry with so irresponsible a creature as Mr. Hill. "I must -tell you the dream," said Allen with an effort, "and then you can -judge if Eva is what you say." - -"I wait for the dream," replied Mr. Hill, waving his arm airily; -"but it will not alter my opinion. She is commonplace, that is -why I agreed to your engagement. You are commonplace also--you -take after your mother." - -Mrs. Hill rose quite undisturbed. "I had better go," she said. - -"By all means, Saccharissa," said Hill graciously; "to-day in my -music mood I am a butterfly. You disturb me. Life with me must -be sunshine this day, but you are a creature of gloom." - -"Wait a moment, mother," said Allen, catching Mrs. Hill's hand as -she moved quietly to the door, "I want you to hear Eva's dream." - -"Which certainly will not be worth listening to," said the -butterfly. Allen passed over this fresh piece of insolence, -although he secretly wondered how his mother took such talk -calmly. He recounted the dream in detail. "So I went to the Red -Deeps at Eva's request," he finished, "to see if her dream was -true. I never thought it would be, of course; but I went to -pacify her. But when I left the road to take a short cut to the -Red Deeps, about four miles from Wargrove, I twisted my ankle, as -I said, and after waiting, crawled home, to arrive here at two -o'clock." - -"Why do you tell me this dream--which is interesting, I admit?" -asked Mr. Hill irritably, and with a rather dark face. - -"Because you said that Mr. Strode would never come home. Eva's -dream hinted at the same thing. Why did you----?" - -"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Mr. Hill, sitting down with a smile. -"I will endeavour to recall my mood when I spoke." He thought for -a few minutes, then touched his forehead. "The mood taps here," -said he playfully. "Allen, my son, you don't know Strode; I do. A -truculent ruffian, determined to have money at any cost." - -"I always heard he was a polished gentleman," objected Allen. - -"Oh, quite so. The public school life and university polish gave -him manners for society: I don't deny that. But when you -scratched the skin, the swashbuckler broke out. Do you know how -he came to lose his right hand, Allen? No. I could tell you that, -but the story is too long, and my brain is not in its literary -vein this day. If I could sing it, I would, but the theme is -prosaic. Well, to come to the point, Allen, Strode, though a -gentleman, is a swashbuckler. Out in Africa he has been trying to -make money, and has done so at the cost of making enemies." - -"Who told you so?" - -"Let me see--oh, his lawyer, who is also mine. In fact, I -introduced him to Mask, my solicitor. I went up a few months ago to -see Mask about some business, and asked after Strode; for though -the man is a baron of the middle ages and a ruffian, still he is my -friend. Mask told me that Strode was making money and enemies at -the same time. When you informed me, Allen, that Strode was coming -home in the _Dunoon Castle_, and that he had arrived at -Southampton, I thought some of his enemies might have followed him, -and might have him arrested for swindling. In that case, he -certainly would not arrive." - -"But how do you know that Mr. Strode would swindle?" - -"Because he was a man with no moral principles," retorted Mr. Hill; -"your mother here will tell you the same." - -"I did not like Mr. Strode," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "he was not -what I call a good man. Eva takes after Lady Jane, who was always -a delightful friend to me. I was glad to hear you were engaged to -the dear girl, Allen," she added, and patted his hand. - -"It is strange that your observation and Eva's dream should agree." - -"Pardon me," said Mr. Hill, rising briskly, "they do not agree. I -suggested just now that Strode might be followed by his Cape Town -enemies and arrested for swindling. Eva dreamed that he was dead." - -"Then you don't agree with her dream?" asked Allen, puzzled. - -"Interesting, I admit; but--oh no"--Hill shrugged his -shoulders--"Strode can look after himself. Whosoever is killed, he -will be safe enough. I never knew a man possessed of such infernal -ingenuity. Well, are you satisfied? If not, ask me more, and I'll -explain what I can. Ah, by the way, there's Wasp coming up the -garden." Hill threw open the window and hailed the policeman. "I -asked Wasp to come and see me, Allen, whenever he had an interesting -case to report. I intend to write a volume on the physiology of the -criminal classes. Probably Wasp, wishing to earn an honest penny, has -come to tell me of some paltry crime not worth expending five -shillings on--that's his price. Ah, Wasp, what is it?" - -The policeman, a stout little man, saluted. "Death, sir." - -"How interesting," said Mr. Hill, rubbing his hands; "this is indeed -news worth five shillings. Death?" - -"Murder." - -Allen rose and looked wide-eyed at the policeman. "Mr. Strode?" - -"Yes, sir. Mr. Strode. Murdered--found dead at the Red Deeps." - -"Face downward in the mud?" whispered Allen. "Oh, the dream--the -dream!" and he sank back in his chair quite overwhelmed. - -"You seem to know all about it, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, with sudden -suspicion. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A STRANGE LOSS - - -Wasp was a bulky little man with a great opinion of his own -importance. In early years he had been in the army, and there, had -imbibed stern ideas of duty. Shortly after joining the police force -he was sent to Wargrove, and, with an underling, looked after the -village and the surrounding district. Married while young, he now -possessed a family of ten, who dwelt with Mrs. Wasp in a -spick-and-span house on the verge of the common. Everything about -Wasp's house was spotless. The little policeman had drilled his -wife so thoroughly, that she performed her duties in quite a -military way, and thought Wasp the greatest of men mentally, -whatever he may have been physically. The ten children were also -drilled to perfection, and life in the small house was conducted on -garrison lines. The family woke early to the sound of the bugle, -and retired to bed when 'Lights out' was sounded. It was quite a -model household, especially as on Sunday, Wasp, a fervid churchman, -walked at the head of his olive-branches with Mrs. Wasp to St. -Peter's church. - -The pay was not very large, but Wasp managed to make money in -many ways. Lately he had been earning stray crowns from Mr. Hill -by detailing any case which he thought likely to interest his -patron. Hitherto these had been concerned with thieving and -drunkenness and poaching--things which Mr. Hill did not care -about. But on this occasion Wasp came to 'The Arabian Nights' -swelling with importance, knowing that he had a most exciting -story to tell. He was therefore not at all pleased when Allen, so -to speak, took the words out of his official mouth. His red face -grew redder than ever, and he drew up his stiff little figure to -its full height, which was not much. "You seem to know all about -it, Mr. Allen," said Wasp tartly. - -"It is certainly strange that Miss Strode should dream as she -did," said Hill, who had turned a trifle pale; "what do you think, -Saccharissa?" - -Mrs. Hill quoted from her husband's favourite poet: "'There are -more things in heaven and earth----'" - -"That's poetry, we want sense," said Hill interrupting testily; -"my music mood has been banished by this news. I now feel that I -am equal to being a Vidocq. Allen, henceforth I am a detective -until the murderer of my friend Strode is in the dock. Where is -the criminal," added Hill, turning to the policeman, "that I may -see him?" - -"No one knows who did it, sir," said Wasp, eyeing Allen suspiciously. - -"What are the circumstances?" - -"Mr. Allen, your son here, seems to know all about them," said Wasp -stiffly. - -Allen, who was resting his head on the white cloth of the table, -looked up slowly. His face seemed old and worn, and the dark -circles under his eyes were more marked than ever. "Didn't Miss -Strode tell you her dream, Wasp?" he asked. - -The policeman snorted. "I've got too much to do in connection -with this case to think of them rubbishy things, sir," said he; "Mrs. -Merry did say something, now you mention it. But how's a man woke up -to dooty at one in the morning to listen to dreams." - -"Were you woke at one o'clock, Wasp?" asked Mr. Hill, settling -himself luxuriously; "tell me the details, and then I will go with you -to see Miss Strode and the remains of one, whom I always regarded as -a friend, whatever his shortcomings might have been. Allen, I suppose -you will remain within and nurse your foot." - -"No," said Allen rising painfully. "I must see Eva." - -"Have you hurt your foot, sir?" asked Wasp, who was paying particular -attention to Allen. - -"Yes; I sprained it last night," said Allen shortly. - -"Where, may I ask, sir?" - -"On Chilvers Common." - -"Ho!" Wasp stroked a ferocious moustache he wore for the sake of -impressing evil-doers; "that's near the Red Deeps?" - -"About a mile from the Red Deeps, I believe," said Allen, trying to -ease the pain of his foot by resting it. - -"And what were you doing there, may I ask, sir?" This time it was -not Allen who replied, but his mother. The large, lean woman -suddenly flushed and her stolid face became alive with anger. She -turned on the little man--well named Wasp from his meddlesome -disposition and desire to sting when he could--and seemed like a -tigress protecting her cub. "Why do you ask?" she demanded; "do -you hint that my son has anything to do with this matter?" - -"No, I don't, ma'am," replied Wasp stolidly, "but Mr. Allen -talked of the corp being found face downward in the mud. We did -find it so--leastways them as found the dead, saw it that way. -How did Mr. All----" - -"The dream, my good Wasp," interposed Hill airily. "Miss Strode -dreamed a dream two nights ago, and thought she saw her father -dead in the Red Deeps, face downward. She also heard a laugh--but -that's a detail. My son told us of the dream before you came. It -is strange it should be verified so soon and so truly. I begin to -think that Miss Strode has imagination after all. Without -imagination," added the little man impressively, "no one can -dream. I speak on the authority of Coleridge, a poet," he smiled -pityingly on the three--"of whom you probably know nothing." - -"Poets ain't in the case," said Wasp, "and touching Mr. Allen----" - -The young engineer stood up for himself. "My story is short," he -said, "and you may not believe it, Wasp." - -"Why shouldn't I?" demanded the policeman very suspiciously. - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "You have not imagination enough," -he answered, copying his father; "it seems to me that you believe -I am concerned in this matter." - -"There ain't no need to incriminate yourself, sir." - -"Spare me the warning. I am not going to do so. If you want to -know the truth it is this: Miss Strode dreamed the other night -that her father was lying dead in the Red Deeps. After vainly -endeavouring to laugh her out of the belief that the dream was true, -I went last night to the Red Deeps to convince her that all was well. -I struck across the moor from the high-road, and catching my foot in -some bramble bushes I twisted my ankle. I could not move, and my -ankle grew very painful. For hours I waited, on the chance that some -one might come past, but Chilvers Common being lonely, as you know, I -could not get help. Therefore, shortly before midnight--though I can -hardly tell the exact time, my watch having been stopped when I -fell--I managed to crawl home. I arrived about two o'clock, and my -mother was waiting up for me. She bathed my ankle and I went to bed." - -"It couldn't have been very bad, sir, if you're down now," said Wasp -bluntly, and only half satisfied with Allen's explanation. - -"I forced myself to come down, as my father does not like any one to -be absent from meals," was the reply. - -"Right, Mr. Wasp--right," said Hill briskly, "you need not go on -suspecting my son. He has nothing to do with this matter, the more so -as he is engaged to Miss Strode." - -"And I certainly should end all my chances of marrying Miss Strode by -killing her father," said Allen sharply; "I think you take too much -upon yourself, Wasp." - -The policeman excused himself on the plea of zeal, but saw that he had -gone too far, and offered an apology. "But it was your knowing the -position of the body that made me doubtful," he said. - -"That is the dream," said Mrs. Hill quietly; "but you can now tell us -all that has taken place." - -Hill looked astonished at his wife and a trifle annoyed. She was not -usually given to putting herself forward--as he called it--but waited -to take her tune from him. He would have interposed and asked the -question himself, so as to recover the lead in his own house, but that -Wasp, anxious to atone for his late error, replied at once, and -addressed himself exclusively to Mrs. Hill. - -"Well, ma'am, it's this way," he said, drawing himself up stiffly and -saluting apologetically. "I was wakened about one o'clock by a message -that I was wanted at Misery Castle,--a queer name as you know, -ma'am----" - -"We all know about Mrs. Merry and her eccentricities," said Mrs. -Hill, who, having an eccentric person in the house, was lenient -towards the failings of others; "go on." - -"Well, ma'am, Jackson, who is under me, was at the other end of the -village before midnight, but coming past Misery Castle on his rounds -he saw Mrs. Merry waiting at the gate. She said that Mr. Strode had -been brought home dead by three men--labourers. They, under the -direction of Miss Eva, took the body in and laid it on a bed. Then -Miss Eva sent them away with money. That was just about twelve -o'clock. The men should have come to report to me, or have seen -Jackson, but they went back to their own homes beyond the common, -Westhaven way. I'm going to ask them what they mean by doing that and -not reporting to the police," said Wasp sourly. "Well then, ma'am, -Jackson saw the body and reported to me at one in the morning. I put -on my uniform and went to Misery Castle. I examined the remains and -called up Jackson. We made a report of the condition of the body, -and sent it by messenger to Westhaven. The inspector came this -morning and is now at Misery Castle. Being allowed to go away -for a spell, having been on duty all night over the body, I came -here to tell Mr. Hill, knowing he'd like to hear of the murder." - -"I'm glad you came," said Hill, rubbing his hands, "a fine -murder; though," his face fell, "I had rather it had been any -one but my old friend. I suppose you don't know how he came by -his death?" - -"He was shot, sir." - -"Shot?" echoed Allen, looking up, "and by whom?" - -"I can't say, nor can any one, Mr. Allen. From what Mrs. Merry -says, and she asked questions of those who brought the body home, -the corp was found lying face downward in the mud near the Red -Deeps spring. Why he should have gone there--the dead man, I mean, -sir--I can't say. I hear he was coming from London, and no doubt -he'd drive in a fly to Wargrove. But we'll have to make inquiries -at the office of the railway station, and get to facts. Some one -must hang for it." - -"Don't, Wasp; you're making my mother ill," said Allen quickly. - -And indeed Mrs. Hill looked very white. But she rallied herself -and smiled quietly in her old manner. "I knew Mr. Strode," she -said, "and I feel his sad end keenly, especially as he has left a -daughter behind him. Poor Eva," she added, turning to Allen, "she -is now an orphan." - -"All the more reason that I should make her my wife and cherish -her," said Allen quickly. "I'll go to the cottage," he looked at his -father; "may I take the pony chaise?--my foot----" - -"I was thinking of going myself," said Hill hesitating, "but as -you are engaged to the girl, it is right you should go. I'll drive -you." Allen looked dubious. Mr. Hill thought he could drive in the -same way that he fancied he could do all things: but he was not a -good whip, and Allen did not want another accident to happen. -However, he resolved to risk the journey, and, thanking his -father, went out of the room. While the chaise was getting ready, -Allen, looking out of the window, saw his father leave the grounds -in the company of Wasp. Apparently both were going to Misery -Castle. He turned to his mother who was in the room. "What about -my father driving?" he asked. "I see he has left the house." - -"Probably he has forgotten," said Mrs. Hill soothingly; "you know -how forgetful and whimsical he is." - -"Do I not?" said Allen with a sigh, "and don't you?" he added, -smiling at the dark face of his mother. "Well, I can drive -myself. Will you come also, mother, and comfort Eva?" - -"Not just now. I think that is your task. She is fond of me, but -at present you can do her more good. And I think, Allen," said -Mrs. Hill, "that you might bring her back. It is terrible that a -young girl should be left alone in that small cottage with so -dismal a woman as Mrs. Merry. Bring her back." - -"But my father?" - -"I'll make it right with him," said Mrs. Hill determinedly. - -Allen looked at her anxiously. His mother had a firm, -dark face, with quiet eyes steady and unwavering in their -gaze. It had often struck him as wonderful, how so strong a -woman--apparently--should allow his shallow father to rule the -house. On several occasions, as he knew, Mrs. Hill had asserted -herself firmly, and then Hill, after much outward anger, had given -way. There was a mystery about this, and on any other occasion Allen -would have asked his mother why she held so subordinate a position, -when, evidently, she had all the strength of mind to rule the house -and her husband and the whole neighbourhood if necessary. But at -present he was too much taken up with the strange fulfilment of Eva's -dream, and with the thought of her sorrow, to trouble about so petty -a thing. He therefore remained silent and only spoke when the chaise -came to the door in charge of a smart groom. - -"I'll tell you everything when I return," he said, and hastily kissing -his mother he moved slowly out of the room. Mrs. Hill stood smiling -and nodding at the window as he drove away, and then returned to her -needlework. She was always at needlework, and usually wrought -incessantly, like a modern Penelope, without displaying any emotion. -But to-day, as she worked in the solitude of her own room, her tears -fell occasionally. Yet, as she did not like Strode, the tears could -not have been for his untimely death. A strange, firm, self-reliant -woman was Mrs. Hill; and although she took no active part in the -management of the house, the servants secretly looked on her as the -real ruler. Mr. Hill, in spite of his bluster, they regarded as merely -the figurehead. - -On the way to Misery Castle, Allen chatted with Jacobs, a -smart-looking lad, who had been transformed from a yokel into a -groom by Mr. Hill. Jacobs had heard very little of the affair, but -admitted that he knew the crime had been committed. "My brother was -one of them as brought the corp home, sir," he said, nodding. - -"Why did your brother and the others not report to Wasp?" - -Jacobs grinned. "Mr. Wasp have himself to thank for that, sir," said -he, "they were all frightened as he'd say they did it, and don't -intend to come forward unless they have to." - -"All zeal on Mr. Wasp's part, Jacobs," said Allen, smiling faintly, "I -can quite understand the hesitation, however. How did your brother -find the body?" - -"Well, sir," Jacobs scratched his head, "him and Arnold and Wake was -coming across Chilvers Common last night after they'd been to see the -circus at Westhaven, and they got a thirst on them. There being no -beer handy they went to the spring at the Red Deeps to get water. -There they found Mr. Strode's body lying in the mud. His face was down -and his hands were stretched. They first saw the corpse by the white -glove, sir, on the right hand." - -"The wooden hand," said Allen absently. - -"What, sir? Is it a wooden hand?" asked Jacobs eagerly. - -"Yes. Didn't you know?--no----" Allen checked himself, "of course you -wouldn't know. You can't remember Mr. Strode when he was here last." - -"It's not that, sir," began Jacobs thoughtfully, "but here we are at -the gate. I'll tell you another time, Mr. Allen." - -"Tell me what?" asked Allen, as he alighted painfully. - -"No matter, sir. It ain't much," replied the lad, and gathering up the -reins he jumped into the trap. "When will I come back?" - -"In an hour, and then you can tell me whatever it is." - -"Nothing--nothing," said the groom, and drove off, looking thoughtful. - -It seemed to Allen that the lad had something to say to him relating -to the wooden hand, but, thinking he would learn about the matter -during the homeward drive, he dismissed the affair from his mind and -walked up the path. - -He found the front door closed, and knocked in vain. Finding that no -one came, he strolled round to the back, and discovered Mrs. Merry -talking to a ragged, shock-headed, one-eyed boy of about thirteen. -"Just you say that again," Mrs. Merry was remarking to this urchin. - -The boy spoke in a shrill voice and with a cockney accent. "Cain sez -to me, as he'll come over and see you to-morrer!" - -"And who are you to come like this?" asked Mrs. Merry. - -"I'm Butsey, and now you've as you've heard twice what Cain hes -t'saiy, you can swear, without me waiting," and after this insult the -urchin bolted without waiting for the box on the ear, with which Mrs. -Merry was prepared to favour him. Allen, quick in his judgments, saw -that this was a true specimen of a London gamin, and wondered how -such a brat had drifted to Wargrove. As a rule the London guttersnipe -sticks to town as religiously as does the London sparrow. - -"If I had a child like that," gasped Mrs. Merry as the boy darted -round the corner of the cottage, "I'd put him in a corner and keep -him on bread and water till the sin was drove out of him. Ah, Mr. -Allen, that's you. I'm glad you've come to the house of mourning, -and well may I call this place Misery Castle, containing a corp as -it do. But I said the dream would come true, and true it came. Five -knocks at the door, and the corp with three men bearing it. Your -pa's inside, looking at the body, and Miss Eva weeping in the -doring-room." - -Allen brushed past the garrulous woman, but halted on the doorstep, -to ask why she had not come to the front door. Mrs. Merry was ready -at once with her explanation. "That door don't open till the corp go -out," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh, I know as you may -call it superstition whatever you may say, Mr. Allen, but when a corp -enter at one door nothing should come between its entering and its -going out. If anything do, that thing goes with the corp to the -grave," said Mrs. Merry impressively; "police and doctor and your pa -and all, I haven't let in by the front, lest any one of them should -die. Not as I'd mind that Wasp man going to his long home, drat him -with his nasty ways, frightening Miss Eva." - -Waiting to hear no more, Hill went through the kitchen and entered -the tiny drawing-room. The blinds were down and on the sofa he saw -Eva seated, dressed in black. She sprang to her feet when she saw -him. "Oh, Allen, I am so glad you have come. Your father said you -could not, because of your foot." - -"I sprained it, Eva, last night when----" - -"Yes. Your father told me all. I wondered why you did not come back, -Allen, to relieve my anxiety. Of course you did not go to the Red -Deeps?" - -"No," said Allen sitting down, her hand within his own, "I never got -so far, dearest. So your dream came true?" - -"Yes. Truer than you think--truer than you can imagine," said Eva in -a tone of awe. "Oh, Allen, I never believed in such things; but that -such a strange experience should come to me,"--she covered her face -and wept, shaken to the core of her soul; Allen soothed her gently, -and she laid her head on his breast, glad to have such kind arms -around her. "Yes, my father is dead," she went on, "and do you know, -Allen, wicked girl that I am, I do not feel so filled with sorrow as -I ought to be? In fact"--she hesitated, then burst out, "Allen, I _am_ -wicked, but I feel relieved----" - -"Relieved, Eva?" - -"Yes! had my father come home alive everything would have gone wrong. -You and I would have been parted, and--and--oh, I can't say what -would have happened. Yet he is my father after all, though he treated -my mother so badly, and I knew so little about him. I wish--oh, I -wish that I could feel sorry, but I don't--I don't." - -"Hush, hush! dearest," said Allen softly, "you knew little of your -father, and it's natural under the circumstances you should not -feel the loss very keenly. He was almost a stranger to you, -and----" - -While Allen was thus consoling her, the door opened abruptly and -Hill entered rather excited. "Eva," he said quickly, "you never told -me that your father's wooden hand had been removed." - -"It has not been," said Eva; "it was on when we laid out his body." - -"It's gone now, then," said Hill quietly, and looking very pale; -"gone." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE WARNING - - -On hearing this announcement of the loss, Eva rose and went to the -chamber of death. There, under a sheet, lay the body of her father -looking far more calm in death, than he had ever looked in life. But -the sheet was disarranged on the right side, and lifting this -slightly, she saw that what Mr. Hill said was true. The wooden hand -had been removed, and now there remained but the stump of the arm. A -glance round the room showed her that the window was open, but she -remembered opening it herself. The blind was down, but some one -might have entered and thieved from the dead. It was an odd loss, -and Eva could not think why it should have taken place. - -When she returned to the tiny drawing-room, Allen and his father were -in deep conversation. They looked up when the girl entered. - -"It is quite true," said Eva, sitting down; "the hand is gone." - -"Who can have stolen it?" demanded Allen, wrinkling his brow. - -"And why should it be stolen?" asked Hill pointedly. - -Eva pressed her hands to her aching head. "I don't know," she -said wearily. "When Mrs. Merry and I laid out the body at dawn -this morning the hand was certainly there, for I noted the white -glove all discoloured with the mud of the Red Deeps. We pulled down -the blind and opened the window. Some one may have entered." - -"But why should some one steal?" said Hill uneasily; "you say the hand -was there at dawn?" - -"Yes." Eva rose and rang the bell. "We can ask Mrs. Merry." - -The old woman speedily entered, and expressed astonishment at the -queer loss. "The hand was there at nine," she said positively. "I -went to see if everything was well, and lifted the sheet. Ah, dear -me, Mr. Strode, as was, put a new white glove on that wooden hand -every morning, so that it might look nice and clean. Whatever would -he have said, to see the glove all red with clay? I intended," added -Mrs. Merry, "to have put on a new glove, and I sent Cain to buy it." - -"What?" asked Eva, looking up, "is Cain back?" - -"Yes, deary. He came early, as the circus is passing through this -place on to the next town, Shanton. Cain thought he'd pick up the -caravans on the road, so came to say good-bye." - -Eva remembered Cain's odd behaviour, and wondered if he had anything -to do with the theft. But the idea was ridiculous. The lad was bad -enough, but he certainly would not rob the dead. Moreover--on the face -of it--there was no reason he should steal so useless an object as a -wooden hand. What with the excitement of the death, and the -fulfilment of the dream, not to mention that she felt a natural grief -for the death of her father, the poor girl was quite worn out. -Mr. Hill saw this, and after questioning Mrs. Merry as to the theft -of the glove, he went away. - -"I shall see Wasp about this," he said, pausing at the door, "there -must be some meaning in the theft. Meanwhile I'll examine the -flower-bed outside the window." - -Mrs. Merry went with him, but neither could see any sign of foot-marks -on the soft mould. The thief--if indeed a thief had entered the house, -had jumped the flower-bed, and no marks were discoverable on the hard -gravel of the path. "There's that boy," said Mrs. Merry. - -"What boy?" asked Hill, starting. - -"A little rascal, as calls himself Butsey," said the old woman, -folding her hands as usual under her apron. "London street brat I take -him to be. He came to say Cain would be here to-morrow." - -"But Cain is here to-day," said Mr. Hill perplexed. - -"That's what makes me think Butsey might have stolen the wooden hand," -argued Mrs. Merry. "Why should he come here else? I didn't tell him, -as Cain had already arrived, me being one as knows how to hold my -tongue whatever you may say, Mr. Hills"--so Mrs. Merry named her -companion. "I would have asked questions, but the boy skipped. I -wonder why he stole it?" - -"You have no proof that he stole it at all," said Hill smartly; "but -I'll tell Wasp what you say. When does the inquest take place?" - -"To-morrow, as you might say," snapped Mrs. Merry crossly; "and -don't bring that worriting Wasp round here, Mr. Hills. Wasp he is -by name and Wasp by nature with his questions. If ever you----" - -But Mr. Hill was beyond hearing by this time. He always avoided a -chat with Mrs. Merry, as the shrillness of her voice--so -he explained--annoyed him. The old woman stared after his -retreating figure and she shook her head. "You're a bad one," -she soliloquised; "him as is dead was bad too. A pair of -ye--ah--but if there's trouble coming, as trouble will come, do -what you may--Miss Eva shan't suffer while I can stop any worriting." - -Meanwhile Eva and Allen were talking seriously. "My dream was -fulfilled in the strangest way, Allen," the girl said. "I dreamed, -as I told you, the night before last at nine o'clock----" - -"Well?" questioned the young man seeing she hesitated. - -Eva looked round fearfully. "The doctor says, that, judging by -the condition of the body, my father must have been shot at that -hour." - -"Last night you mean," said Allen hesitatingly. - -"No. This is Friday. He was shot on Wednesday at nine, and the -body must have lain all those long hours at the Red Deeps. Of -course," added Eva quickly, "no one goes to the Red Deeps. It was -the merest chance that those labourers went last night and found -the body. So you see, Allen, my father must have been killed at -the very time I dreamed of his death." - -"It is strange," said young Hill, much perturbed. "I wonder who -can have killed him?" - -Eva shook her head. "I cannot say, nor can any one. The inspector -from Westhaven has been here this morning making inquiries, but, -of course, I can tell him nothing--except about the telegram." - -"What telegram?" - -"Didn't I mention it to you?" said the girl, raising her eyes -which were fixed on the ground disconsolately; "no--of course I -didn't. It came after you left me--at nine o'clock--no it was at -half-past nine. The wire was from my father, saying he would be -down the next day. It had arrived at Westhaven at four, and should -have been delivered earlier but for the forgetfulness of the -messenger." - -"But, Eva, if the wire came from your father yesterday, he could not -have been shot on Wednesday night." - -"No, I can't understand it. I told Inspector Garrit about the wire, -and he took it away with him. He will say all that he learns about the -matter at the inquest to-morrow. And now my father's wooden hand has -been stolen--it is strange." - -"Very strange," assented Allen musingly. He was thinking of what -his father had said about Mr. Strode's probable enemies. "Eva, do -you know if your father brought any jewels from Africa--diamonds, I -mean?" - -"I can't say. No diamonds were found on his body. In fact his purse -was filled with money and his jewellery had not been taken." - -"Then robbery could not have been the motive for the crime." - -"No, Allen, the body was not robbed." She rose and paced the room. "I -can't understand my dream. I wonder if, when I slept, my soul went to -the Red Deeps and saw the crime committed." - -"You did not see the crime committed?" - -"No; I saw the body, however, lying in the position in which it was -afterwards found by Jacobs and the others. And then the laugh--that -cruel laugh as though the assassin was gloating over his cruel -work--the man who murdered my father was laughing in my dream." - -"How can you tell it was a man?" - -"The laugh sounded like that of a man." - -"In your dream? I don't think a jury will take that evidence." - -Eva stopped before the young man and looked at him determinedly. -"I don't see why that part of my dream should not come true, if -the other has already been proved true. It's all of a piece." - -To this remark young Hill had no answer ready. Certainly the dream had -come true in one part, so why not in another? But he was too anxious -about Eva's future to continue the discussion. "What about you, -darling?" he asked. - -"I don't know," she replied, and sat down beside him again. "I can -think of nothing until the inquest has taken place. When I learn -who has killed my father, I shall be more at ease." - -"That is only right and natural; but----" - -"Don't mistake me, Allen," she interrupted vehemently. "I saw so -little of my father, and, through my mother, knew so much bad about -him, that I don't mourn his death as a daughter ought to. But I feel -that I have a duty to perform. I must learn who killed him, and have -that person sent to the scaffold." - -Allen coloured and looked down. "We can talk about that when we have -further facts before us. Inspector Garrit, you say, is making -inquiries?" - -"Yes; I have given him the telegram, and also the address of my -father's lawyer, which I found in a letter in his pocket." - -"Mr. Mask?" - -"Yes; Sebastian Mask--do you know him?" - -"I know of him. He is my father's lawyer also, and so became Mr. -Strode's man of business. Yes, it is just as well Garrit should see -him. When your father arrived in London he probably went to see Mask, -to talk over business. We might learn something in that quarter." - -"Learn what?" asked Eva bluntly. - -Allen did not answer at once. "Eva," he said after a pause, "do you -remember I told you that my father said Mr. Strode might not arrive. -Well, I asked him why he said so, and he declared that from what he -knew of your father, Mr. Strode was a man likely to have many enemies. -It struck me that this crime may be the work of one of these enemies. -Now Mask, knowing all your father's business, may also know about -those who wished him ill." - -"It may be so," said Eva reflectively; "my father," from what Mrs. -Merry says, "was a most quarrelsome man, and would stop at nothing to -make money. He doubtless made enemies in Africa as your -father suggests, but why should an enemy follow him to England to -kill him? It would have been easier to shoot him in Africa." - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "It's all theory on our parts," he said. -"We don't know yet if Mr. Strode had any virulent enemies, so we -cannot say if he was shot out of malice." - -"As the contents of his pockets were not touched, Allen, it looks as -though malice might have led to the crime." - -"True enough." Allen rose wearily to go, and Eva saw that he -limped. "Oh," she cried with true womanly feeling, springing -forward to help him, "I forgot about your sprain; is it very -painful?" - -"Oh no, not at all," said Allen, wincing; "help me to the door, -Eva, and I'll get into the chaise. It must be here by this time. -We must go round by the back." - -In spite of her sorrow, Eva smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Merry won't allow the -front door to be opened until my father's corpse passes through. I -never thought she was so superstitious." - -"The realisation of your dream is enough to make us all -superstitious," said Allen as they passed through the kitchen. "Oh, -by the way, Eva, my mother wants to know if you will stop with her -till the funeral is over?" - -"No, Allen, thanking your mother all the same. My place is here. Mrs. -Palmer asked me also." - -Mrs. Palmer was a gay, bright young widow who lived at the other -end of the village, and whom Mrs. Merry detested, for some unknown -reason. The sound of the name brought her into the conversation, as -she was just outside, when the couple arrived at the kitchen door. - -"Mrs. Palmer indeed," cried Mrs. Merry, wiping her red eyes; "the -idea of her asking Miss Eva to stop with her. Why, her father was -a chemist, and her late husband made his money out of milk and -eggs!" - -"She is very kind to ask me, Nanny, all the same." - -"She's no lady," said Mrs. Merry, pursing up her lips, "and ain't -the kind for you to mix with, Miss Eva." - -"My mother wishes Miss Strode to come to us," said Allen. - -"Well, sir," said the old nurse, "I don't say as what it wouldn't be -good for my dear young lady: that is," added Mrs. Merry with -emphasis, "if she keeps with your ma." - -"My father won't trouble her if that's what you mean," said the young -man drily, for Mrs. Merry made no secret of her dislike for Mr. Hill. - -"People have their likings and no likings," said the old dame, "but if -your ma will take Miss Eva till we bury him," she jerked her head in -the direction of the death chamber, "it would be happier for her than -sticking in the house along with her pa and me. If Cain was stopping -I'd say different, but he's going after his circus, and two women and -a corpse as ain't lived well, isn't lively, whatever you may say, Mr. -Allen." - -"I intend to stop here," said Eva sharply, "so there's no need for -you to say anything more, Nanny. Ah, here's Cain. Help Mr. Hill, -Cain." - -The dark-eyed youth doffed his cap and came forward with alacrity to -aid Allen. "Jacobs is at the gate with the pony, miss," he said, "but -I hope our horses won't run over him." - -"What do you mean?" asked Allen, limping round the corner. - -"The circus is coming, on its way to Shanton. I told Mr. Stag--he -owns it, Miss Eva--that murder had been committed, so the circus band -won't play when the horses pass." - -"Oh," said Eva stopping short, for already she saw a crowd of people -on the road. "I'd better remain within." - -"Yes, do, Eva," said Allen. "Cain will help me to the chaise. I'll -come and see you again; and Eva," he detained her, "ask Inspector -Garrit to see me. I want to know what can be done towards discovering -the truth." - -While Allen whispered thus, a procession of golden cars and -cream-coloured horses was passing down the road amongst a sparse -gathering of village folk. These had come to look at the house in -which the body of the murdered man lay, although they knew Misery -Castle as well as they knew their own noses. But the cottage had -acquired a new and terrible significance in their eyes. Now another -sensation was provided in the passing of Stag's Circus on its way to -Shanton fifteen miles further on. What between the tragedy and the -circus the villagers quite lost their heads. At present, however, -they looked at the cages of animals, at the band in a high red -chariot, and at many performers prancing on trained steeds. With the -music of the band it would have been even more exciting, but Stag, -with extraordinary good taste, forbore to play martial melodies while -passing through the village. Cain had not told him about the cottage, -so the equestrians were unaware that Misery Castle contained the -remains of the man whose death had caused such excitement in -Westhaven. - -Just as Eva turned to go in, and thus avoid the gaze of the curious, -she heard a deep voice--a contralto voice--calling for Cain. On -turning her head, she saw a handsome dark woman mounted on a fine -white horse. "It's Miss Lorry," said Cain, leaving Allen's arm and -running to the gate, with his face shining. - -The young man, still weak in his ankle, lurched, so sudden had been -Cain's departure, and Eva, with a cry of anger, ran forward to stop -him from falling. "Cain, how could you!" cried Eva; "hold up, -Allen." - -"Go back and help the gentleman," said the dark woman, fixing her -bold eyes on the girl's white face with a look of pity. "Miss -Strode!" - -Eva turned indignantly--for Cain by this time was helping Allen, and -she was returning to the house--to see why the woman dare address -her. Miss Lorry was reining in her rearing, prancing horse, and -showing off her fine figure and splendid equestrian management. She -was dressed plainly in a dark blue riding-habit, and wore a tall silk -hat. With these, and white collar and cuffs and neat gloves, she -looked very well turned out. By this time the procession had passed -on towards the village, and the people, drawn by the superior -attraction of the circus, streamed after it. Only a few hung about, -and directed curious eyes towards the cottage and towards Eva, who -paused near the fence in response to Miss Lorry's cry. Allen, who was -now in the chaise, and had gathered up the reins, also waited to hear -what this audacious woman had to say to Eva. - -"Come here, please," said Miss Lorry, with a fine high colour in her -cheeks. "I'm not going to bite you. You are Miss Strode, aren't -you?--else that lad," she pointed to Cain, "must have lied. He said -you lived in his mother's cottage and----" - -"I am Miss Strode," said Eva sharply. "What is it? I don't know you." - -Miss Lorry laughed in an artificial manner. "Few people can say that," -she said; "Bell Lorry is known everywhere as the Queen of the Arena. -No, Miss Strode, you don't know me; but I know you and of you. Your -cousin Lord Saltars----" - -"Oh!" cried Eva, turning red, and walked up towards the house. - -"Come back," cried Miss Lorry, "I want to whisper--it's about the -death," she added in a lower tone. But Eva was out of hearing, and -round the corner walking very fast, with her haughty head in the air. - -Miss Lorry, who had not a good temper, ground her fine white teeth. -"I've a good mind to hold my tongue," she said. - -"What is it about the murder?" asked Allen quickly; "I am engaged to -marry Miss Strode." - -"Oh, are you? Then tell her to be careful of the wooden hand!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE INQUEST - - -There was great excitement when the inquest was held on the remains -of Mr. Strode. Although he belonged to the old family of the -neighbourhood, and should have lived in the manor as the lord of the -village, he had been absent from Wargrove for so long, that few -people were well acquainted with him. Some ancient villagers -remembered him as a gay, sky-larking young man, when with Mr. Hill -the two had played pranks during vacation. Then came the death of the -old squire and the sale of the manor by his son. At times Strode had -come to Wargrove with his wife, and at Misery Castle Eva had been -born. But he usually stopped only a short time, as the slow life of -the country wearied his restless spirit. But always, when he came to -his old haunts, he went to look at the home of his race. Every one -knew that it was his desire to be Strode of Wargrove again, in fact -as well as in name. - -Many people remembered him when he came to Wargrove for the last time, -to place his wife and daughter under the roof of Mrs. Merry. Strode -had always been stiff and cold in manner, but, being of the old stock, -this behaviour was esteemed right, as no lord of the soil should be -too familiar, the wiseacres thought. "A proud, haughty gentleman," -said some, "but then he's a right to be proud. Ain't the Strodes been -here since the Conquest? 'Tis a wonder he took up with that Mr. Hill, -whose father was but a stockbroker." - -So it will be guessed that Strode's return to his native place to meet -with a violent death at unknown hands, created much excitement. The -jury surveyed the body in Misery Castle, and then went to the one inn -of the village to hear the evidence. A few people were in the -coffee-room where the proceedings took place, but Inspector Garrit -gave orders that the crowd should be kept out. The street therefore -was filled with people talking of Strode and of his terrible end. One -old man, who had seen eighty summers, gave it as his opinion, that it -was no wonder Mr. Strode had died so. - -"And what do you mean by that?" asked Wasp, who, full of importance, -was making things unpleasant with over-zeal. - -The ancient pulled his cap to the majesty of the law. "Whoy," said -he, chewing a straw, "Muster Robert--by which I means Muster -Strode--was a powerful angery gent surely. He gied I a clip on th' -'ead when I was old enough to be his father, though to be sure -'twas in his colleging days. Ah, I mind them two well!" - -"What two?" asked Wasp, on the alert to pick up evidence. - -"Muster Strode as was, an' Muster Hill as is. They be very -hoity-toity in them days, not as 'twasn't right fur Muster Robert, he -being lard an' master of the village. But Muster Hill"--the ancient -spat out the straw to show his contempt--"Lard, he be nothin'!" - -"He's very rich, Granfer." - -"What's money to blood? Muster Strode shouldn't ha' taken him up, and -given he upsettin' notions. He an' Giles Merry, as run away from his -wife, and Muster Strode, ah--them did make things lively-like." - -"I don't see what this has to do with the death," said Wasp -snappishly. - -"Never you mind," said Granfer, valiant through over-much beer. "I -knows what I knows. Muster Robert--'twas a word an' a blow with him, -and when he clips me on the 'ead, I ses, 'Sir, 'tis a red end as -you'll come to,' and my words have come true. He've bin shot." - -"And who shot him?" asked the blacksmith. - -"One of 'em as he clipped on the 'ead same as he did me," said -Granfer. - -Wasp dismissed this piece of gossip with contempt, and entered the -coffee-room to watch proceedings. The little policeman was very -anxious to bring the murderer to justice, in the hopes that he would -be rewarded for his zeal by a post at Westhaven. Hitherto he had -found nothing likely to lead to any discovery, and Inspector Garrit -had not been communicative. So, standing stiffly at the lower end of -the room, Wasp listened with all his red ears to the evidence, to see -what he could gain therefrom likely to set him on the track. A chance -like this was not to be wasted, and Wasp's family was very large, -with individual appetites to correspond. - -Eva was present, with Allen on one side of her, and Mrs. Palmer on -the other. Behind sat Mrs. Merry, sniffing because Mrs. Palmer was -offering Eva her smelling-bottle. The widow was blonde and lively, -well dressed, and of a most cheerful disposition. Her father -certainly had been a chemist, but he had left her money. Her husband -undoubtedly had been an egg and butter merchant, but he also had left -her well off. Mrs. Palmer had been born and brought up in Shanton, -and her late husband's shop had been in Westhaven. Therefore she -lived at neither place now that she was free and rich, but fixed her -abode at Wargrove, midway between the two towns. She went out a good -deal, and spent her money freely. But she never could get amongst the -county families as was her ambition. Perhaps her liking for Eva -Strode was connected with the fact that the girl was of aristocratic -birth. With the Lord of the Manor--as he should have been--for a -father, and an Earl's daughter for a mother, Eva was as well-born as -any one in the county. But apart from her birth, Mrs. Palmer kindly -and genial, really liked the girl for her own sake. And Eva also was -fond of the merry, pretty widow, although Mrs. Merry quite -disapproved of the friendship. - -Inspector Garrit was present, and beside him sat a lean, yellow-faced -man, who looked like a lawyer and was one. He had presented himself at -the cottage that very morning as Mr. Mask, the solicitor of the -deceased, and had been brought down by Garrit to give evidence as to -the movements of Mr. Strode in town, since his arrival from Africa. -Eva had asked him about her future, but he declined to say anything -until the verdict of the jury was given. When this matter was settled, -and when Strode was laid in the family vault beside his neglected -wife, Mask said that he would call at Misery Castle and explain. - -The case was opened by Garrit, who detailed the facts and what -evidence he had gathered to support them. "The deceased gentleman," -said Garrit, who was stout and short of breath, "came to Southampton -from South Africa at the beginning of August, a little over a week -ago. He had been in South Africa for five years. After stopping two -days at Southampton at the Ship Inn, the deceased had come to London -and had taken up his quarters in the Guelph Hotel, Jermyn Street. He -went to the theatres, paid visits to his tailors for a new outfit, and -called also on his lawyer, Mr. Mask, who would give evidence. On -Wednesday last, the deceased wired from London that he would be down -at eight o'clock on Thursday evening. The wire was sent to Miss -Strode, and was taken from the hotel by the porter who sent it, from -the St. James's telegraph office." - -"Why are you so precise about this telegram?" asked the coroner. - -"I shall explain later, sir," panted Garrit, wiping his face, for it -was hot in the coffee room. "Well then, gentlemen of the jury, the -deceased changed his mind, as I learned from inquiries at the hotel. -He came down on Wednesday evening instead of Thursday, and arrived at -the Westhaven station at six-thirty." - -"That was the train he intended to come by on Thursday?" asked a -juryman. - -"Certainly. He changed the day but not the train." - -"Didn't he send another wire to Miss Strode notifying his change of -plan?" - -"No. He sent no wire saying he would be down on Wednesday. Perhaps -he desired to give Miss Strode a pleasant surprise. At all -events, Miss Strode did not expect him till Thursday night at -eight. She will give evidence to that effect. Well, gentlemen of -the jury, the deceased arrived at Westhaven by the six-thirty -train on Wednesday, consequent on his change of plan. He left the -greater part of his luggage at the Guelph Hotel, and came only -with a small bag, from which it would seem that he intended to -stop only for the night. As the bag was easily carried, Mr. -Strode decided to walk over----" - -"But if he arrived by the six-thirty he would not get to the -cottage at eight," said a juryman. - -"No. I can't say why he walked--it's ten miles. A quick walker -could do the distance in two hours, but Mr. Strode not being so -young as he was, was not a quick walker. At all events, he -walked. A porter who offered to take his bag, and was snubbed, -was the last person who saw him." - -"Didn't any one see him on the road to Wargrove?" - -"I can't say. As yet I have found no one who saw him. Besides, -Mr. Strode did not keep to the road all the time. He walked -along it for some distance and then struck across Chilvers -Common, to go to the Red Deeps. Whether he intended to go -there," added the Inspector, wiping his face again, "I can't -say. But he was found there dead on Thursday night by three men, -Arnold, Jacobs, and Wake. These found a card in the pocket -giving the name of the deceased, and one of them, Jacobs, then -recognised the body as that of Mr. Strode whom he had seen five -years previous. The men took the body to the cottage and then -went home." - -"Why didn't they inform the police?" asked the coroner. - -Garrit stole a glance at Wasp and suppressed a smile. "They will -tell you that themselves, sir," he said; "however, Mrs. Merry found -the policeman Jackson on his rounds, late at night, and he went to -tell Mr. Wasp, a most zealous officer. I came over next morning. The -doctor had examined the body, and will now give his evidence." - -After this witness retired, Dr. Grace appeared, and deposed that he -had been called in to examine the body of the deceased. The -unfortunate gentleman had been shot through the heart, and must have -been killed instantaneously. There was also a flesh wound on the upper -part of the right arm; here the doctor produced a bullet: "This I -extracted from the body, gentlemen, but the other bullet cannot be -found. It must have merely ripped the flesh of the arm, and then have -buried itself in the trees." - -"This bullet caused the death?" asked the coroner. - -"Certainly. It passed through the heart. I expect the assassin fired -twice, and missing his victim at the first shot fired again with a -surer aim. From the nature of the wound in the arm, gentlemen," added -Grace, "I am inclined to think that the deceased had his back to the -assassin. The first bullet--the lost one, mind--skimmed along the -flesh of the arm. The pain would make the deceased turn sharply to -face the assassin, whereupon the second shot was fired and passed -through the heart. I think, from the condition of the body, that the -murder was committed at nine o'clock on Wednesday night. Mr. Strode -may have gone to the Red Deeps to meet the assassin and thus -have----" - - -"This isn't evidence," interrupted the coroner abruptly; "you can sit -down, Dr. Grace." - -This the doctor did, rather annoyed, for he was fond of hearing -himself chatter. The three labourers, Arnold, Wake, and Jacobs, -followed, and stated that they went to the Red Deeps to get a drink -from the spring. It was about half-past ten when they found the body. -It was lying near the spring, face downwards. They took it up and -from a card learned it was that of Mr. Strode. Then they took it to -the cottage and went home. - -"Why didn't you inform the police?" a juryman asked Jacobs. - -The big man scratched his head and looked sheepish. "Well, you see, -sir, policeman Wasp's a sharp one, he is, and like as not he'd have -thought we'd killed the gent. We all three thought as we'd wait till -we could see some other gentleman like yourself." - -There was a smile at this, and Wasp grew redder than he was. "A trifle -too much zeal on the part of policeman Wasp," said the coroner drily, -"but you should have given notice. You carried the body home between -you, I suppose?" - -"Yes. There was Arnold, myself, and Wake--then there was the boy," -added the witness with hesitation. - -"Boy?" questioned the coroner sharply, "what boy?" - -Jacobs scratched his head again. "I dunno, sir. A boy joined us on the -edge of the common near Wargrove, and, boy-like, when he saw we'd a -corpse he follered. When we dropped the body at the door of Misery -Castle"--the name of Mrs. Merry's abode provoked a smile--"the boy -said as he'd knock. He knocked five times." - -"Why five times?" questioned a juryman, while Eva started. - -"I can't say, sir. But knock five times he did, and then ran away." - -"What kind of a boy was he?" - -"Just an ordinary boy, sir," grunted the witness, save that he seemed -sharp. "He'd a white face and a lot of red hair----" - -"Lor!" cried Mrs. Merry, interrupting the proceedings, "it's Butsey." - -"Do you know the boy?" asked the coroner. "Come and give your -evidence, Mrs. Merry." - -The old woman, much excited, kissed the book. "Know the boy?" she -said in her doleful voice. "Lord bless you, Mr. Shakerley, that being -your name, sir, I don't know the boy from a partridge. But on Friday -morning he came to me, and told me as Cain--my boy, gentlemen, and a -wicked boy at that--would come and see me Saturday. As Cain was in -the house, gentlemen, leastways as I'd sent him for a glove for the -wooden hand of the corp, the boy--Butsey, he said his name was--told -a lie, which don't astonish me, seeing what boys are. I think he was -a London boy, being sharp and ragged. But he just told the lie, and -before I could clout his head for falsehoods, he skipped away." - -"Have you seen him since?" - -"No, I ain't," said Mrs. Merry, "and when I do I'll clout him, I will." - -"Does your son know him?" - -"That he don't. For I asked Cain why he told the boy to speak such a -falsehood seeing there was no need. But Cain said he'd told no one to -say as he was coming, and that he intended to see me Friday and not -Saturday, as that lying boy spoke." - -Here Inspector Garrit rose, and begged that Miss Strode might be -called, as she could tell something, bearing on the boy. Eva looked -somewhat astonished, as she had not seen Butsey. However, she was -sworn and duly gave her evidence. - -"My father came home from South Africa over a week ago in the _Dunoon -Castle_. He wrote to me from Southampton saying he would be down. He -then went to London and stopped there a week. He did not write from -London, but sent two telegrams." - -"Two telegrams," said the coroner. "One on Wednesday----" - -"Yes," said the witness, "and one on Thursday night." - -"But that's impossible. He was dead then, according to the medical -evidence." - -"That's what I cannot understand," said Eva, glancing at the -Inspector. "I expected him on Thursday night at eight and had dinner -ready for him. After waiting till after nine I was about to go to bed -when a telegraph messenger arrived. He gave me the wire and said it -arrived at four, and should have been sent then. It was from my -father, saying he had postponed his departure till the next day, -Friday. I thought it was all right and went to bed. About twelve I -was awakened by the five knocks of my dream----" - -"What do you mean by your dream, Miss Strode?" - -Eva related her dream, which caused much excitement. "And the five -knocks came. Four soft and one hard," she went on. "I sprang out -of bed, and ran into the passage. Mrs. Merry met me with the news that -my father had been brought home dead. Then I attended to the body, -while Mrs. Merry told Jackson, who went to see Mr. Wasp." - -"What did you do with the wire?" asked the coroner, looking perplexed -at this strange contradictory evidence, as he well might. - -"I gave it to Inspector Garrit." - -"Here it is," said the inspector producing it; "when I was in town, I -went to the office whence this had been sent. It was the St. James's -Street office where the other wire had been sent from. I learnt from -a smart operator that the telegram had been brought in by a ragged, -red-haired boy----" - -"Butsey," cried Mrs. Merry, folding her shawl tightly round her lean -form. - -"Yes," said Garrit, nodding, "apparently it is the same boy who joined -the three men when they carried the body home, and knocked five -times." - -"And the same boy as told me a lie about Cain," cried Mrs. Merry; -"what do you make of it all, gentlemen?" - -Mrs. Merry was rebuked, but the jury and coroner looked puzzled. They -could make nothing of it. Inquiry showed that Butsey had vanished -from the neighbourhood. Wasp deposed to having seen the lad. "Ragged -and white-faced and red-haired he was," said Wasp, "with a wicked -eye----" - -"Wicked eyes," corrected the coroner. - -"Eye," snapped Wasp respectfully, "he'd only one eye, but 'twas bright -and wicked enough to be two. I asked him--on the Westhaven road--what -he was doing there, as we didn't like vagrants. He said he'd come from -London to Westhaven with a Sunday school treat. I gave him a talking -to, and he ran away in the direction of Westhaven. Oh, sir," added -Wasp, obviously annoyed, "if I'd only known about the knocking, and -the lying to Mrs. Merry, and the telegram, I'd have taken him in -charge." - -"Well, you couldn't help it, knowing no reason why the lad should be -detained," said the coroner; "but search for him, Wasp." - -"At Westhaven? I will, sir. And I'll see about the Sunday school too. -He'd be known to the teachers." - -Mrs. Merry snorted. "That's another lie. I don't believe the brat has -anything to do with Sunday schools, begging your pardon, Mr. -Shakerley. He's a liar, and I don't believe his name's Butsey at -all." - -"Well, well," said the coroner impatiently, "let us get on with the -inquest. What further evidence have you, inspector?" - -"I have to speak," said Mr. Mask rising and looking more yellow and -prim than ever as he took the oath. "I am Mr. Strode's legal adviser. -He came to see me two or three times while he was in town. He stated -that he was going down to Wargrove." - -"On what day did he say?" - -"On no particular day. He said he would be going down some time, but -he was in no hurry." - -"Didn't he tell you he was going down on Thursday?" - -"No. He never named the day." - -"Had he any idea of meeting with a violent death?" - -"If he had, he certainly would not have come," said Mask grimly; "my -late client had a very good idea of looking after his own skin. But he -certainly hinted that he was in danger." - -"Explain yourself." - -"He said that if he couldn't come himself to see me again he would -send his wooden hand." - -The coroner looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" - -"Mr. Strode," said Mask primly, "talked to me about some money he -wished to place in my keeping. I was to give it back to him -personally, or when he sent the wooden hand. I understood from what -he hinted that there was a chance he might get into trouble. But he -explained nothing. He always spoke little and to the point." - -"And have you got this money?" - -"No. Mr. Strode didn't leave it with me." - -"Then why did he remark about his wooden hand?" - -"I expect he intended to leave the money with me when he returned from -Wargrove. So it would seem that he did not expect anything to happen -to him on his visit to his native place. If he had expected a tragedy, -he would have left the money; and the wooden hand would have been the -token for me to give it." - -"To whom, sir?" - -"To the person who brought the wooden hand." - -"And has it been brought?" - -"No. But I understand from Inspector Garrit that the hand has been -stolen." - -"Dear me--dear me." Mr. Shakerley rubbed his bald head irritably. -"This case is most perplexing. Who stole the hand?" - -Mr. Hill came forward at this point and related how he had gone into -the death chamber to find the hand gone. Eva detailed how she had -seen the hand still attached to the arm at dawn, and Mrs. Merry -deposed that she saw the hand with the body at nine o'clock. These -witnesses were exhaustively examined, but nothing further could be -learned. Mr. Strode had been shot through the heart, and the wooden -hand had been stolen. But who had shot him, or who had stolen the -hand, could not be discovered. - -The coroner did his best to bring out further evidence: but neither -Wasp nor Garrit could supply any more witnesses. The further the case -was gone into, the more mysterious did it seem. The money of the -deceased was untouched, so robbery could not have been the motive for -the commission of the crime. Finally, after a vain endeavour to -penetrate the mystery, the jury brought in a verdict of "Wilful murder -against some person or persons unknown." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A NEW LIFE - - -Nothing new was discovered after the inquest, although all inquiries -were made. Butsey had vanished. He was traced to Westhaven after his -interview with Wasp, and from that place had taken the train to -London. But after landing at Liverpool Street Station, he -disappeared into the world of humanity, and not even the efforts of -the London police could bring him to light. No weapon had been found -near the Red Deeps spring, nor could any foot-marks be discerned -likely to lead to a detection of the assassin. Mr. Strode had been -shot by some unknown person, and it seemed as though the affair -would have to be relegated to the list of mysterious crimes. Perhaps -the absence of a reward had something to do with the inactivity -displayed by Garrit and Wasp. - -But how could a reward be offered when Eva had no money? After the -funeral, and when the dead man had been bestowed in the Strode vault -under St. Peter's Church, the lawyer called to see the girl. He told -her coldly, and without displaying any sympathy, that her father had -left no money in his hands, and that he could do nothing for her. Eva, -having been brought up in idleness, was alarmed at the prospect before -her. She did not know what to do. - -"I must earn my bread in some way," she said to Mrs. Merry a week -later, when consulting about ways and means. "I can't be a burden on -you, Nanny." - -"Deary," said the old woman, taking the girl's hand within her -withered claws, "you ain't no burden, whatever you may say. You stay -along with your old nurse, who loves you, an' who has fifty pound a -year, to say nothing of the castle and the land." - -"But, Nanny, I can't stay on here for ever." - -"And you won't, with that beauty," said Mrs. Merry sturdily, -"bless you, deary, Mr. Allen will marry you straight off if you'll -only say the word; I saw him in the village this very day, his -foot being nearly well. To be sure he was with his jelly-fish of a -pa; but I took it kind of him that he stopped and spoke to me. He -wants to marry you out of hand, Miss Eva." - -"I know," said the girl flushing; "I never doubted Allen's love. He has -asked me several times since the funeral to become his wife. But my -poor father----" - -"Poor father!" echoed Mrs. Merry in tones of contempt; "well, as he was -your pa after all, there ain't nothing to be said, whatever you may -think, Miss Eva. But he was a bad lot." - -"Mrs. Merry, he's dead," said Eva rebukingly. The old woman -rubbed her hands and tucked them under her apron. "I know that," -said she with bright eyes, "and put 'longside that suffering -saint your dear ma: but their souls won't be together whatever -you may say, deary. Well, I'll say no more. Bad he was, and a -bad end he come to. I don't weep for him," added Mrs. Merry -viciously; "no more nor I'd weep for Giles if he was laid out, -and a nasty corp he'd make." - -Eva shuddered. "Don't speak like that." - -"Well then, deary, I won't, me not being wishful to make your young -blood run cold. But as to what you'll do, I'll just tell you what -I've thought of, lying awake. There's the empty room across the -passage waiting for a lodger; then the cow's milk can be sold, and -there's garden stuff by the bushel for sale. I might let out the -meadow as a grazing ground, too," said Mrs. Merry, rubbing her nose -thoughtfully, "but that the cow's as greedy a cow as I ever set eyes -on, an' I've had to do with 'em all my born days, Miss Eva. All -this, rent free, my dear, and fifty pounds in cash. You'll be as -happy as a queen living here, singing like a bee. And then when the -year's mourning is over--not as he deserves it--you'll marry Mr. -Allen and all will be gay." - -"Dear Nanny," said the girl, throwing her arms round the old woman's -neck, "how good you are. But, indeed I can't." - -"Then you must marry Mr. Allen straight away." - -"I can't do that either. I must earn my bread." - -"What," screeched Mrs. Merry, "and you a born lady! Never; that -saint would turn in her grave--and I wonder she don't, seeing she's -laid 'longside him as tortured her when alive. There's your titles, -of course, Lord Ipsen and his son." - -"I wouldn't take a penny from them," said Eva colouring. "They -never took any notice of me when my father was alive, and----" - -"He didn't get on well with 'em," cried Mrs. Merry; "and who did he -get on with, I ask you, deary? There's Lady Ipsen--she would have -made much of you, but for him." - -"I don't like Lady Ipsen, Nanny. She called here, if you remember, -when my mother was alive. I'm not going to be patronised by her." - -"Ah, Miss Eva," said the old dame admiringly, "it's a fine, bright, -hardy spirit of your own as you've got. Lady Ipsen is as old as I -am, and makes herself up young with paint and them things. But she -has a heart. When she learned of your poverty----" - -Eva sprang to her feet. "No! no! no!" she cried vehemently, "never -mention her to me again. I would not go to my mother's family for -bread if I was starving. What I eat, I'll earn." - -"Tell Mr. Allen so," said Mrs. Merry, peering out of the window; -"here he comes. His foot 'ull get worse, if he walk so fast," she -added, with her usual pessimism. - -Allen did not wait to enter in by the door, but paused at the open -window before which Eva was standing. He looked ill and white and -worried, but his foot was better, though even now, he had to use a -stick, and walked slowly. "You should not have come out to-day," -said Eva, shaking her finger at him. - -"As Mrs. Mountain would not go to Mr. Mahomet," said Allen, trying to -smile, "Mr. Mahomet had to come to Mrs. Mountain. Wait till I come in, -Eva," and he disappeared. - -The girl busied herself in arranging an arm-chair with cushions, and -made her lover sit down when he was in the room. "There! you're more -comfortable." She sat down beside him. "I'll get you a cup of tea." - -"Don't bother," murmured Allen, closing his eyes. - -"It's no bother. In any case tea will have to be brought in. Mrs. -Palmer is coming to see me soon. She wants to talk to me." - -"What about?" - -"I can't say; but she asked me particularly to be at home to-day. We -can have our talk first, though. Do smoke, Allen." - -"No. I don't feel inclined to smoke." - -"Will you have some fruit?" - -"No, thank you," he said, so listlessly that Eva looked at him in -alarm. She noted how thin his face was, and how he had lost his -colour. - -"You do look ill, Allen." - -He smiled faintly. "The foot has pulled me down." - -"Are you sure it's only the foot?" she inquired, puzzled. - -"What else should it be?" asked Allen quietly; "you see I'm so used -to being in the open air, that a few days within doors, soon takes my -colour away. But my foot is nearly well. I'll soon be myself again. -But, Eva," he took her hand, "do you know why I come." - -"Yes," she said looking away, "to ask me again to be your wife." - -"You have guessed it the first time," replied Allen, trying to be -jocular; "this is the third time of asking. Come, Eva," he added -coaxingly, "have you considered what I said?" - -"You want me to marry you at once," she murmured. - -"Next week, if possible. Then I can take you with me to South -America, and we can start a new life, far away from these old -vexations. Come, Eva. Near the mine, where I and Parkins are -working, there's a sleepy old Spanish town where I can buy the most -delightful house. The climate is glorious, and we would be so happy. -You'll soon pick up the language." - -"But why do you want me to leave England, Allen?" - -Hill turned away his head as he answered. "I haven't enough money to -keep you here in a proper position," he said quietly. "My father -allows me nothing, and will allow me nothing. I have to earn my own -bread, Eva, and to do so, have to live for the time being in South -America. I used to think it exile, but with you by my side, dearest, -it will be paradise. I want to marry you: my mother is eager to -welcome you as her daughter, and----" - -"And your father," said Eva, seeing he halted. Allen made a -gesture of indifference. "My father doesn't care one way or the -other, darling. You should know my father by this time. He is -wrapped up in himself. Egotism is a disease with him." Eva twisted -her hands together and frowned. "Allen, I really can't marry you," -she said decisively; "think how my father was murdered!" - -"What has that to do with it?" demanded Allen almost fiercely. - -"Dear, how you frighten me. There's no need to scowl in that way. -You have a temper, Allen, I can see." - -"It shall never be shown to you," he said fondly. "Come, Eva." - -But she still shook her head. "Allen, I had small cause to love my -father, as you know. Still, he has been foully murdered: I have made -up my mind to find out who killed him before I marry." - -Allen rose in spite of his weak ankle and flung away her hand. "Oh, -Eva," he said roughly, "is that all you care for me? My happiness is -to be settled in this vague way----" - -"Vague way----?" - -"Certainly!" cried Hill excitedly; "you may never learn who killed -your father. There's not a scrap of evidence to show who shot him." - -"I may find Butsey," said Eva, looking obstinate. - -"You'll never find him; and even if you do, how do we know that he can -tell?" - -"I am certain that he can tell much," said Miss Strode determinedly. -"Think, Allen. He sent the telegram probably by order of my father's -enemy. He came suddenly on those men at midnight when they were -carrying the body. What was a child like that doing out so late, if -he wasn't put up to mischief by some other person? And he knocked as -happened in my dream, remember," she said, sinking her voice; "and -then he came here with a lying message on the very day my father's -wooden hand was stolen." - -"Do you think he stole it?" - -"Yes, I do; though why he should behave so I can't say. But I am quite -sure that Butsey is acting on behalf of some other person--probably -the man who killed my father." - -Allen shrugged his shoulders frowningly. "Perhaps Butsey killed Mr. -Strode himself," he said; "he has all the precocity of a criminal." - -"We might even learn that," replied Eva, annoyed by Allen's tone; "but -I am quite bent on searching for this boy and of learning who killed -my father and why he was killed." - -"How will you set about it?" asked Allen sullenly. - -"I don't know. I have no money and no influence, and I am only a -girl. But I'll learn the truth somehow." - -Hill walked up and down the little room with a slight limp, though -his foot was much better and gave him no pain. He was annoyed that -Eva should be so bent on avenging the murder of her father, for he -quite agreed with Mrs. Merry that the man was not worth it. But he -knew that Eva had a mulish vein in her nature, and from the look -on her face and from the hard tones of her voice, he was sure she -would not be easily turned from her design. For a few minutes he -thought in silence, Eva watching him intently. Then he turned -suddenly: "Eva, my dear," he said, holding out his hands, "since -you are so bent upon learning the truth leave it in my hands. I'll -be better able to see about the matter than you. And if I find out -who killed your father----" - -"I'll marry you at once!" she cried, and threw herself into his arms. - -"I hope so," said Allen in a choked voice. "I'll do my best, Eva; -no man can do more. But if I fail, you must marry me. Here, I'll -make a bargain with you. If I can't find the assassin within a -year, will you give over this idea and become my wife?" - -"Yes," said Eva frankly; "but I am certain that the man will be -found through that boy Butsey." - -"He has to be found first," said Allen with a sigh, "and that is -no easy task. Well, Eva, I'll settle my affairs and start on this -search." - -"Your affairs!" said Eva in a tone of surprise. - -"Ah," said the young man smiling, "you have seen me idle for so -long that you think I have nothing to do. But I have to get back -soon to Bolivia. My friend Parkins and I are working an old silver -mine for a Spanish Don. But we discovered another and richer mine -shown to me by an Indian. I believe it was worked hundreds of -years ago by the Inca kings. Parkins and I can buy it, but we have -not the money. I came home to see if my father would help me. But -I might have spared myself the trouble: he refused at once. Since -then I have been trying all these months to find a capitalist, but -as yet I have not been successful. But I'll get him soon, and then -Parkins and I will buy the mine, and make our fortunes. I wish -you'd give up this wild goose chase after your father's murderer, -and let us go to Bolivia." - -"No," said Eva, "I must learn the truth. I would never be happy if -I died without knowing who killed my father, and why he was -killed." - -"Well, then, I'll do my best. I have written to Parkins asking -him to give me another six months to find a capitalist, and I -shall have to take rooms in London. While there I'll look at the -same time for Butsey, and perhaps may learn the truth. But if I -don't----" - -"I'll marry you, if you don't find the assassin in a year," said -Eva embracing him. "Ah, Allen, don't look so angry. I don't want -you to search all your life: but one year--twelve months----" - -"Then it's a bargain," said Allen kissing her: "and, by the way, I -shall have the assistance of Parkins's brother." - -"Who is he?" asked Eva; "I don't want every one to----" - -"Oh, that's all right. Parkins tells me his brother is shrewd and -clever. I may as well have his assistance. Besides, I got a letter -from Horace Parkins--that's the brother, for my man is called -Mark--and he is in town now. He has just come from South Africa, so -he may know of your father's doings there." - -"Oh," Eva looked excited, "and he may be able to say who killed him!" - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "I don't say that. Your father may -have had enemies in England as well as in Africa. But we'll see. I -have never met Horace Parkins, but if he's as good a fellow as his -brother Mark, my chum and partner, he'll do all he can to help me." - -"I am sure you will succeed, Allen," cried Eva joyfully; "look how -things are fitting in. Mr. Parkins, coming from Africa, is just the -person to know about my father." - -Young Hill said nothing. He fancied that Horace Parkins might know -more about Mr. Strode than Eva would like to hear, for if the man -was so great a scamp in England, he certainly would not settle -down to a respectable life in the wilds. However he said nothing -on this point, but merely reiterated his promise to find out who -murdered Robert Strode, and then drew Eva down beside him. "What -about yourself?" he asked anxiously. - -"I don't know. Mrs. Merry wants me to stop here." - -"I should think that is the best thing to do." - -"But I can't," replied Eva, shaking her head; "Mrs. Merry is poor. I -can't live on her." - -"I admire your spirit, Eva, but I don't think Mrs. Merry would think -you were doing her anything but honour." - -"All the more reason I should not take advantage of her kindness." - -Allen laughed. "You argue well," he said indulgently. "But see here, -dearest. My mother is fond of you, and knows your position. She wants -you to come to her." - -"Oh, Allen, if she were alone I would love to. I am very -devoted to your mother. But your father----" - -"He won't mind." - -"But I do," said Eva, her colour rising. "I don't like to say so to -you, Allen, but I must." - -"Say what?" - -"That I don't like your father very much." - -"That means you don't like him at all," said the son coolly. "Dear -me, Eva, what unpleasant parents you and I have. Your father and -mine--neither very popular. But you won't come?" - -"I can't, Allen." - -"You know my father is your dead father's dearest friend." - -"All the same I can't come." - -"What will you do, then?" asked Allen vexed. - -"Go out as a governess." - -"No; you must not do that. Why not----" - -Before Allen could propose anything the door opened and Mrs. Merry, -with a sour face, ushered in Mrs. Palmer. The widow looked prettier -and brighter than ever, though rather commonplace. With a -disdainful sniff Mrs. Merry banged the door. - -"Eva, dear," said Mrs. Palmer. "Mr. Hill, how are you? I've come on -business." - -"Business?" said Eva surprised. - -"Yes. Pardon my being so abrupt, but if I don't ask you now I'll lose -courage. I want you to come and be my companion." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL - - -So here was a way opened by Providence in an unexpected direction. -Mrs. Palmer, with a high colour and rather a nervous look, stood -waiting for Eva's reply. The girl looked at her lover, but Allen, -very wisely, said nothing. He thought that this was a matter which -Eva should settle for herself. But he was secretly amused at the -abrupt way in which the little widow had spoken. It seemed as -though she was asking a favour instead of conferring one. Miss -Strode was the first of the three to recover, and then she did not -reply immediately. She first wanted to know why Mrs. Palmer had -made so generous an offer. - -"Do sit down," she said, pushing forward a chair, "and then we can -talk the matter over. I need not tell you that I am very thankful -for your kind offer." - -"Oh, my dear;" Mrs. Palmer sank into the chair and fanned herself -with a lace handkerchief, "if you accept it, it is I who shall be -thankful. I do hate living by myself, and I've never been able to -find a companion I liked. But you, dear Eva, have always been a -pet of mine. I have known you for four years, and I always did -think you the very dearest of girls. If you will only come we -shall be so happy." - -"But what makes you think that I want to be any one's -companion?" - -Mrs. Palmer coloured and laughed nervously. She was very pretty, -but with her pink and white complexion and flaxen hair and pale -blue eyes she looked like a wax doll. Any one could see at a glance -that she was perfectly honest. So shallow a nature was incapable of -plotting, or of acting in a double fashion. Yet Eva wondered all -the same that the widow should have made her so abrupt a proposal. -So far as she knew, no one was aware that she was in want of money, -and it seemed strange if providential that Mrs. Palmer should come -in the very nick of time to help her in this way. - -"Well, my dear," she said at length and looking at her -primrose-hued gloves, "it was Lord Saltars who led me to make the -offer." - -"My cousin." Eva frowned and Allen looked up. "Do you know him?" - -"Oh yes. Didn't I mention that I did?" - -"No. I was not aware that you had ever met." - -"We did in town about a year ago. I met him only once when I was -at Mr. Mask's to dinner. Since then I have not seen him until the -other day, and perhaps that was why I said nothing. I remember -you told me he was your cousin, Eva, but I quite forgot to say -that I knew him." - -"Do you know Mr. Mask?" asked Hill. - -"Of course I do. You know I quarrelled with my old lawyer about -the money left by Palmer. He was most disagreeable, so I resolved -to change for a nicer man. I spoke to your father about it, and he -kindly gave me the address of his own lawyer. I went up and -settled things most satisfactorily. Of course Mr. Mask is a -fearful old mummy," prattled on Mrs. Palmer in her airy fashion, -"but he is agreeable over legal matters, and understands business. -Palmer's affairs were rather complicated, you know, so I placed -them all in Mr. Mask's hands. He has been my lawyer ever since, and -I have every reason to be pleased." - -"And you met my cousin there?" said Eva doubtfully. - -"Lord Saltars? Yes. I was dining with Mr. Mask and his wife in -their Bloomsbury Square house, a doleful old place. Lord Saltars -came in to see Mr. Mask on business after dinner, so Mr. Mask -asked him in to drink coffee. I was there, and so we met." - -"Did he mention my name?" asked Miss Strode stiffly. - -"Oh dear, no. He was unaware that I lived in the same village as -you did. We talked about general things. But he mentioned it to me -the other night at the circus, when I went to see the performance -at Shanton." - -"Did you go there?" - -"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Palmer laughing. "I'm sure this -place is dull enough. Any amusement pleases me. I didn't know at -the time that your father was dead, Eva, or I should not have -gone--not that I knew Mr. Strode, but still, you are my friend, -and I should have come to comfort you. But you know I'm at the -other end of the village, and the news had not time to get to me -before I started for Shanton to luncheon with some friends. I -remained with them for the night, and we went to the circus. Lord -Saltars sat next to me, and we remembered that we had met before. -In the course of conversation I mentioned that I lived at -Wargrove, and he asked if I knew you. I said that I did." - -"How did Lord Saltars know of the murder?" asked Allen hastily. - -"I believe he learned it from one of the performers called Miss----" - -"Miss Lorry," said Eva colouring--"I remember. Cain told her, and -she had the audacity to speak to me." - -Allen said nothing, remembering the message Miss Lorry had -delivered relative to the wooden hand. He had not spoken of it to -Eva hitherto, and thought wisely that this was not the time to -reveal his knowledge. He preferred to listen to Mrs. Palmer, who as -yet had not shown how she came to know that Eva needed the offer of -a situation. - -"So Miss Lorry spoke to you?" said Mrs. Palmer with great -curiosity; "such a bold woman, though handsome enough. Lord Saltars -seems to think a lot of her. Indeed I heard a rumour that he was -about to marry her. My friends told me. But people will gossip," -added Mrs. Palmer apologetically. - -"Lord Saltars and his doings do not interest me," said Eva -coldly. "We have only met once, and I don't like him. He is too -fast for me. I could never enjoy the company of a man like that. -I think as he was related by marriage to my father, he might have -called to see me about the matter, and offered his assistance." - -"We can do without that," cried Allen quickly. - -"Lord Saltars doesn't know that we can," replied Eva sharply; -"however, I understand how you met him, Mrs. Palmer, and how he -came to know about the murder through Miss Lorry, who heard of it -from Cain. But what has all this to do with your asking me to be your -companion?" - -Mrs. Palmer coloured again and seemed embarrassed. "My dear," she -said seriously, "I shall have to tell you about Mr. Mask first, -that you may know all. After the inquest he called to see me----" - -"But he came here," put in Eva. - -"Quite so, and told you that your father had left no money." - -"How do you know that?" - -"Mr. Mask told me," said the widow simply, and laid her hand on -Eva's hand; "don't be angry, my dear. Mr. Mask came to me and told -me you were poor. He asked me if I would help you in what way I -could, as he said he knew I was rich and kind hearted. I am the -first, but I really don't know if I'm the last." - -"I think you are," said Miss Strode softly. "I never gave Mr. -Mask leave to talk of my business, and I don't know why he should -have done so, as he did not seem to care what became of me." - -"Oh, but I think he intended to help you if he could, and came to tell -me of your dilemma for that purpose, Eva." - -"Apparently he wished to play the part of a good Samaritan at your -expense, Mrs. Palmer," said Eva drily; "however, I understand how -you came to know that I needed assistance, but Lord Saltars----" - -"Ah!" cried the widow vivaciously, "that is what puzzles me. Lord -Saltars seems to think you are rich." - -"Rich?" echoed Allen, while Eva also looked surprised. - -"Yes. He said you would no doubt inherit your father's money. I -answered--pardon me, Eva--that Mr. Strode was not rich, for I heard so -in another quarter." - -Eva looked at Allen, and Allen at Eva. Both guessed that the -quarter indicated was Mr. Hill, who had a long tongue and small -discretion. Mrs. Palmer, however, never noticed the exchange of -glances, and prattled on. "Lord Saltars insisted that your father had -brought home a fortune from Africa." - -"How did he know that?" asked Allen quickly. - -"I don't know, he didn't say. I of course began to believe him, for -when I hinted doubts, Lord Saltars said that if I offered to help -you, I would learn that you were poor. I really thought you were -rich, Eva, till Mr. Mask came to me, or I should have come before to -make you this offer. But Mr. Mask undeceived me. I told him what Lord -Saltars had said, but Mr. Mask replied that his lordship was quite -wrong--that Mr. Strode had left no money, and that you would not be -able to live. I therefore came to ask you to be my companion at the -salary of one hundred a year. I don't know how I dare offer it, my -dear," said the good-hearted widow; "and if I hadn't spoken just when -I came in, I should not have had the courage. But now I have made the -offer, what do you say?" - -"I think it is very good and kind of you--" - -"And bold. Yes, I can see it in your eyes--very speaking eyes they -are--that you think I am bold in meddling with your private affairs. -But if you really think so, please forgive me and I'll go away. You -may be sure I'll hold my tongue about the matter. If every one thinks -you are rich--as they do--it is not for me to contradict them." - -Eva laughed rather sadly. "I really don't know why people think I -am rich," she said in a low voice; "my father has always been poor -through speculation. What his money affairs were when he came home -I don't know. He said nothing to me, and no papers were found at -the hotel or in his pockets, likely to throw light on them. He -never told Mr. Mask he was rich----" - -"I thought at the inquest Mr. Mask said something about money -being left in his charge, Eva?" said Allen. - -Miss Strode nodded. "My father mentioned that later he might give -Mr. Mask some money to hold for him, and that he would come again -himself to get it. If not, he would send his wooden hand as a sign -that the money should be handed over to any one who brought it." - -"Humph," said Allen pulling his moustache, "it seems to me that the -hand has been stolen for that purpose." - -"If so, it will be taken to Mr. Mask, and then we will learn who -stole it. But of course Mr. Mask will not be able to give any -money, as my father--so he said--never left any with him." - -"This is all most interesting and mysterious," said Mrs. Palmer. "Oh -dear me, I wonder who killed your poor father? Don't look anxious, -Eva; what you and Mr. Hill say, will never be repeated by me. All I -come for is to make this offer, and if you think me rude or -interfering I can only apologise and withdraw." - -Eva caught the widow by the hand. "I think you are very kind," she -said cordially, "and I thankfully accept your offer." - -"Oh, you dear girl!" and Mrs. Palmer embraced her. - -"Have you quite decided to do that, Eva?" asked Allen. - -"Quite," she answered firmly. "Mrs. Palmer likes me----" - -"I quite adore you, Eva, dear!" cried the widow. - -"And I am fond of her." - -"I know you are, dear, though you never would call me Constance." - -"Later I may call you Constance," said Eva, smiling at the simple -way in which Mrs. Palmer talked. "So you may look upon it as -settled. I shall come to be your companion whenever you like." - -"Come at once, dear." - -"No, I must wait here a few days to reconcile my old nurse to my -departure." - -"Mrs. Merry? Oh, Eva, I am afraid she will hate me for this. She -doesn't like me as it is. I don't know why," added Mrs. Palmer -dolefully; "I am always polite to the lower orders." - -"Mrs. Merry is an odd woman," said Eva rising, "but her heart is -in the right place." - -"Odd people's hearts always are," said the widow. "Wait here and -talk to Allen," said Eva going to the door. "I'll see about tea." - -But the fact is Eva wanted to talk to Mrs. Merry, anxious to get over -a disagreeable interview, as she knew there would be strenuous -opposition. To her surprise, however, Mrs. Merry was in favour of the -scheme, and announced her decision when Eva came to the kitchen. - -"Don't tell me about it, Miss Eva," she said, "for I had my ear to the -keyhole all the time." - -"Oh, Nanny!" - -"And why do you say that?" asked the old woman bristling; "if I -ain't got the right to look after you who has? I never cared for -that Mrs. Palmer, as is common of commonest, so I listened to hear -what she'd come about." - -"Then you know all. What do you say?" - -"Go, of course." - -"But, Nanny, I thought----" - -"I know you did, deary," said Mrs. Merry penitently. "I'm always -calling folk names by reason of my having bin put on in life. And -Mrs. Palmer is common--there's no denying--her father being a -chemist and her late husband eggs and butter. But she's got a kind -heart, though I don't see what right that Mask thing had to talk -to her of your being poor when I've got this roof and fifty pound. -Nasty creature, he wouldn't help you. But Mrs. Palmer is kind, -Miss Eva, so I say, take what she offers. You'll be near me, and -perhaps you'll be able to teach her manners, though you'll never -make a silk purse out of a swine's ear." - -Eva was surprised by this surrender, and moreover saw that Mrs. -Merry's eyes were red. In her hands she held a letter, and Eva -remembered that the post had called an hour before. "Have you had -bad news, Nanny?" she asked anxiously. - -"I got a letter from Giles," said Mrs. Merry dully; "he writes -from Whitechapel, saying he's down on his luck and may come home. -That's why I want you to go to Mrs. Palmer, deary. I can't keep -you here with a nasty, swearing jail-bird in the house. Oh dear -me," cried Mrs. Merry, bursting into tears, "and I thought Giles was -dead, whatever you may say, drat him!" - -"But, Nanny, you needn't have him in the house if he treats you badly. -This place is your own." - -"I must have him," said the old woman helplessly, "else he'll break the -winders and disgrace me before every one. You don't know what an awful -man he is when roused. He'd murder me if I crossed him. But to think -he should turn up after all these years, when I thought him as dead -and buried and being punished for his wickedness." - -"Nanny," said Eva kissing the poor wrinkled face, "I'll speak to you -later about this. Meanwhile I'll tell Mrs. Palmer that I accept her -offer." - -"Yes do, deary. It goes to my heart for you to leave. But 'tis better -so, and you'll have your pride satisfied. And it will be Christian -work," added Mrs. Merry, "to dress that widder properly. Rainbows -ain't in it, with the colours she puts on." - -Eva could not help smiling at this view of the matter, and withdrew -to excuse herself offering tea to Mrs. Palmer. Nanny was not in a -state to make tea, and Eva wished to return and learn more, also to -comfort her. She therefore again told Mrs. Palmer that she accepted -the offer and would come to her next week. Then taking leave of -Allen, Eva went back to the kitchen. Mrs. Palmer and her companion -walked down the road. - -"I hope you think I've acted rightly, Mr. Hill," said the widow. - -"I think you are most kind," said Allen, "and I hope you will make Eva -happy." - -"I'll do my best. She shall be a sister to me. But I think," said -Mrs. Palmer archly, "that some one else may make her happier." - -"That is not to be my fate at present," said Allen a little sadly. -"Good-bye, Mrs. Palmer. I'll come and see you and Eva before I go -to town." - -"You'll always be welcome, Mr. Hill, and I can play the part of -gooseberry." So they parted laughing. - -Allen, thinking of this turn in Eva's affairs which had given her a -home and a kind woman to look after her, walked towards the common -to get a breath of fresh air before returning to "The Arabian -Nights." Also he wished to think over his plans regarding meeting -Horace Parkins and searching for Butsey, on whom seemed to hang the -whole matter of the discovery of Strode's assassin. At the end of -the road the young man was stopped by a tall, fresh-coloured girl -neatly dressed, who dropped a curtsey. - -"Well, Jane, and how are you?" asked Allen kindly, recognising -the girl as Wasp's eldest daughter. - -"I'm quite well, and, please, I was to give you this," said Jane. - -Allen took a brown paper parcel and looked at it with surprise. -It was directed to 'Lawrence Hill.' "My father," said Allen. -"Why don't you take it to the house?" - -"I saw you coming, sir, and I thought I'd give it to you. I've -just walked from Westhaven, and father will be expecting me home. -I won't have time to take the parcel to 'The Arabian Nights.'" - -"Where did this come from?" asked Allen, tucking the parcel under his -arm. - -"I got it from Cain, sir, at Colchester." - -"Have you been there?" asked Hill, noting the girl's blush. He -knew that Cain and Jane Wasp admired one another, though the -policeman was not at all in favour of Cain, whom he regarded, and -with some right to do so, as a vagabond. - -"Yes, sir. Mother sent me over with a message to a friend of -hers. I walked to Westhaven and took the train to Colchester. -Stag's Circus is there, and I met Cain. He brought that parcel -and asked me to take it to Mr. Hill." - -"But why should Cain send parcels to my father?" asked Allen. - -"I don't know, sir. But I must get home, or father will be -angry." - -When the girl marched off--which she did in a military way -suggestive of her father's training--Allen proceeded homeward. The -parcel was very light and he could not conjecture what was inside -it. He noted that the address had been written by some one to whom -writing was a pain, for the caligraphy sprawled and wavered -lamentably. Cain had been to a board school and could write very -well, so apparently it was not his writing. Allen wondered who -could be corresponding with his father, but as the matter was -really none of his business, he took the parcel home. At the gate -of "The Arabian Nights" he met his father. - -Mr. Hill was as gay and as airy as ever, and wore his usual brown -velvet coat and white trousers. Also he had on the large straw -hat, and a rose bloomed in his buttonhole. He saluted his son in -an off-hand manner. "I've been walking, Allen," he said lightly, -"to get inspiration for a poem on the fall of Jerusalem." - -"I think some Italian poet has written on that subject, sir." - -"But not as it should be written, Allen. However, I can't waste -time now in enlightening your ignorance. What have you here?" - -"A parcel for you," and Allen gave it. - -"For me, really." Mr. Hill was like a child with a new toy, and sat -down on the grass by the gate to open it. The removal of the brown -paper revealed a cardboard box. Hill lifted the lid, and there were -two dry sticks tied in the form of a cross with a piece of grass. -But Allen looked at this only for a moment. His father had turned -white, and after a moment quietly fainted away. The young man looked -down with a haggard face. "Am I right after all?" he asked himself. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MRS. HILL EXPLAINS - - -An hour later Allen was conversing with his mother. Mr. Hill, carried -into the house by Allen, had been revived; but he steadfastly refused -to speak as to the cause of his fainting; and put it down to the heat -of the weather and to his having taken too long a walk. These excuses -were so feeble that the son could not help his lip curling at their -manifest untruth. Hill saw this and told Allen he would lie down for -an hour or so. "When I rise I may tell you something," he said feebly. - -"I think we may as well understand one another," said Allen coldly. - -"Bring in here those things which came in the parcel," said Hill. - -"Only one thing came," replied his son--"a rough cross----" - -"Yes--yes--I know. Bring it in--paper and box and all. Where did you -get it?" - -Allen explained how Jane Wasp received it from Cain at Colchester, and -Mr. Hill listened attentively. "I understand now," he said at length. -"Put the things in my study. I'll see you later--say in two hours." - -The young man, wondering what it all meant, departed and left his -father to take--on the face of it--a much needed sleep. He went -outside and picked up the cross, the box, and the paper, which -still remained on the grassy bank near the gate. These he brought -into the study, and examined them. But nothing was revealed to his -intelligence. The box was an ordinary cardboard one; he did not -recognise the ill-formed writing, and the cross was simply two -sticks tied together by a wisp of dry grass. Why the contents of -the box should have terrified his father Allen could not say. And -that the sight of the symbol did terrify him, he was well assured, -since Mr. Hill was not a man given to fainting. The box came from -some one who knew Mr. Hill well, as the name Lawrence was on it, -and this was his father's second name rarely used. Mr. Hill -usually called himself Harold, and suppressed the Lawrence. But -Allen had seen the middle name inscribed in an old book, which had -been given by Strode to Hill in their college days. This -coincidence made Allen wonder if the sending of the cross and the -use of the rarely used name had anything to do with the murder. - -While he thus thought, with his face growing darker and darker, -the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered. She had been working in her -own room, and knew nothing of the affair. But some instinct made -her aware that Allen was in the house, and she never failed to be -with him when he was at home. Indeed, she was hardly able to bear -him out of her sight, and seized every opportunity to be in his -presence. With this love it was strange that Mrs. Hill should be -content that Allen should remain in South America for so long, and -pay only flying visits to the paternal roof. - - - -"You are back, Allen," she said softly, and came forward to lay -her hand on his wrinkled forehead. "My dear boy, why that frown? -Has Eva been unkind?" - -"Oh no," said Allen, taking his mother's hand and kissing it, "she -will not marry me yet." - -"Foolish girl. What does she intend to do--stop with Mrs. Merry, I -suppose, which is a dull life for her? Far better if she came to -me, even if she will not marry you at once." - -"She has accepted the position of companion to Mrs. Palmer." - -"Indeed," said Mrs. Hill, looking surprised; "I should have thought -her pride would have prevented her placing herself under an -obligation." - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "There is no obligation," he said; "Eva -is to be paid a salary. Besides, she likes Mrs. Palmer, and so do I." - -"She is not a lady," said Mrs. Hill, pursing up her lips. - -"Nevertheless she has a kind heart, and will make Eva very happy. -I think, mother, it is the best that can be done. Eva doesn't want -to come here, and she will not marry me until the murderer of her -father is discovered." - -"Why won't she come to me?" asked Mrs. Hill sharply. - -Allen looked down. "She doesn't like my father," he said. - -"Very rude of her to tell you that. But I know my poor Harold is -not popular." - -"He is whimsical," said Allen, "and, somehow, Eva can't get on with -him. She was not rude, mother, but simply stated a fact. She likes -my father well enough to meet him occasionally, but she would not -care to live with him. And if it comes to that," added Allen -frowning, "no more should I. He is too eccentric for me, mother, and -I should think for you, mother." - -"I am fond of your father in my own way," said Mrs. Hill, looking down -and speaking in a low voice, as though she made an effort to confess -as much. "But does Eva expect to find out who murdered Mr. Strode?" - -"Yes. She refuses to marry me until the assassin is found and -punished. As she was bent on searching for the man herself, I offered -to search for her." - -Mrs. Hill frowned. "Why did you do that?" she asked sharply; "Strode -is nothing to you, and you have to return to America. Far better -find that capitalist you want, than waste your time in avenging the -death of that man." - -"You don't seem to like Mr. Strode, mother." - -"I hate him," said the woman harshly and clenching her fist: "I have -cause to hate him." - -"Had my father cause also?" asked Allen pointedly. - -She looked away. "I don't know," she answered gloomily. "Strode and -your father were very intimate all their lives, till both married. -Then we saw very little of him. He was not a good man--Strode, I mean, -Allen. If my word has any weight with you, stop this search." - -The young man rose and began to pace the library. "Mother, I must take -up the search," he said in an agitated voice, "for my father's sake. -No one but myself must search for the assassin." - -"What do you mean by that?" questioned Mrs. Hill, sitting very -upright and frowning darker than ever. - -Allen replied by asking a question. "Who knows that my father is called -Lawrence, mother?" - -Mrs. Hill uttered an ejaculation of surprise and grew pale. "Who -told you he was called so?" - -"I found the name in an old book of Cowper's poems given by Mr. -Strode to my father in their college days. It was presented to -Harold Lawrence Hill." - -"I remember the book," said Mrs. Hill, recovering her composure. "But -what is odd about your father having two names? He certainly has -dropped the Lawrence and calls himself simply, Harold Hill--but that -is for the sake of convenience. Only those who knew him in his young -days would know the name of Lawrence." - -"Ah!" said Allen, thoughtfully turning over the brown paper, "then this -was sent by some one who knew him in his young days." - -Mrs. Hill looked at the brown paper covering, at the box, and at the -roughly-formed cross. "What are these?" she asked carelessly. - -"That is what I should like to know," said her son; "at least I should -like to know why the sight of this cross made my father faint." - -Mrs. Hill gasped, and laid her hand on her heart as though she felt -a sudden pain. "Did he faint?" she asked--"did Lawrence faint?" The -young man noticed the slip. Usually his mother called his father Mr. -Hill or Harold, but never till this moment had he heard her call him -Lawrence. Apparently the memory of old events was working in her -breast. But she seemed genuinely perplexed as to the reason of Hill's -behaviour at the sight of the cross. "Where did he faint?" - -"Outside the gate," said Allen quickly, and explained how he had -received the parcel from Jane Wasp, and the circumstance of its -delivery, ending with the query: "Why did he faint?" - -"I can't say," said Mrs. Hill, pushing back the cross and box -pettishly; "there is no reason so far as I know. We'll ask your father -when he awakens." - -"He said he would explain," said Allen sadly; "and between you and me, -mother, we must have an explanation." - -"Your father won't like the use of the word 'must,' Allen." - -"I can't help that," said the young man doggedly, and went to the -door of the library. He opened it, looked out, and then closed it -again. His mother saw all this with surprise, and was still more -surprised when Allen spoke again. "Do you know, mother, why I say I -must undertake this investigation?" - -"No," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "I don't know." - -"It is because I wish to save my father's good name." - -"Is it in danger?" asked the woman, turning pale again. - -"It might be--if any one knew he met Mr. Strode at the Red Deeps on -the night of the murder." - -Mrs. Hill leaped to her feet and clutched her son's arm. "Allen," -she gasped, and the ashen colour of her face alarmed him, "how dare -you say that--it is not possible--it cannot--cannot--" - -"It is possible," said Allen firmly. "Sit down, mother, and let me -explain. I held my tongue as long as I could, but now my father and I -must have an explanation. The fact of his fainting at the sight of -this cross makes me suspicious, and the fact that Eva wants to -investigate the case makes me afraid of what may come out." - -"Has the cross anything to do with the affair?" - -"Heaven, whose symbol it is, only knows," said the young man gloomily. -Mother, "I am moving in the darkness, and I dread to come into the -light. If I undertake this search I may be able to save my father." - -"From what--from--from----" - -Allen nodded and sank his voice. "It may even come to that. -Listen, mother, I'll tell you what I know. On that night I went to -the Red Deeps to prove the falsity of Eva's dream, I found it only -too true." - -"But you never got to the Red Deeps," said Mrs. Hill, looking -steadily into her son's face, "you sprained your ankle." - -"So I did, but that was _after_ I knew the truth." - -"What truth?" - -"That Eva's dream was true; that her father was lying dead by the -spring of the Red Deeps." - -Mrs. Hill looked still more searchingly at him. "You saw that?" - -"I did--in the twilight. I reached there before it grew very -dark. I found the body, and, as in Eva's dream, I recognised it -by the gloved right hand----" - -"The wooden hand," moaned Mrs. Hill, rocking herself. "Oh, -heavens!" - -"Yes! The whiteness of the glove caught my eyes. From what Eva had -told me, I had no need to guess who was the dead man. The wooden -hand explained all. The corpse was that of Strode, shot through -the heart." - -"But there was a slight flesh wound on the arm, remember," said Mrs. -Hill. - -"I know, but I did not notice that at the time," said Allen quickly. -"At first, mother, I intended to give the alarm, and I was hurrying -back to Wargrove to tell Wasp and Jackson, when I caught sight of a -revolver lying in the mud. I took it up--there was a name on the -silver plate on the butt. It was----" Allen sank his voice still -lower. "It was my own name." - -"The revolver was yours?" - -"Yes. I brought it with me from South America, and kept it in my -portmanteau, since a weapon is not needed in England. But one day I -took it out to shoot some birds and left it in this library. I never -thought about it again, or I should have put it away. The next sight I -got of it was in the Red Deeps, and I thought----" - -"That your father took it to shoot Strode!" burst out Mrs. Hill. "You -can't be certain of that--you can't be certain. No, no, Lawrence!" -again she used the unaccustomed name. "Lawrence would never commit a -murder--so good--so kind--no, no." - -Allen looked surprised. He never expected his mother to stand up for -his father in this way. Hill, so far as the son had seen, was not kind -to any one, and he certainly was not good. Why Mrs. Hill, who seemed -to have no particular affection for him, should defend him in this way -puzzled the young man. She saw the effect her speech had produced and -beckoned Allen to sit down. "You must know all," she said--"you must -know how I came to marry your father; and then you will know why I -speak as I do, Allen." She laid a trembling hand on his shoulder. "You -never thought I was fond of your father?" - -Allen looked embarrassed. "Well, no, mother. I thought you tolerated -him. You have strength to rule the house and the whole county if you -chose to exert it, but you let my father indulge in his whims and -fancies, and allow him to speak to you, as he certainly should not -do. Oftentimes I have been inclined to interfere when hearing how -disrespectfully he speaks, but you have always either touched me, or -have given me a look." - -"I would let no one lay a finger on your father, Allen, no one--let -alone his son. I don't love your father, I never did, but"--she -drew herself up--"I respect him." - -The young man looked aghast. "I don't see how any one can respect -him," he said. "Heaven only knows I should like to be proud of my -father, but with his eccentricities----" - -"They cover a good heart." - -"Well, mother, you know best," said Allen soothingly. He did not -think his father possessed a good heart by any manner of means. The -young fellow was affectionate, but he was also keen sighted, and Mr. -Hill had never commanded his respect in any way. - -"I _do_ know best," said Mrs. Hill in a strong tone, and looked -quite commanding. "Allen, are you aware why I am so fond of Eva?" - -"Because she is the most charming girl in the world," said the -lover fondly. "Who could help being fond of Eva?" - -"Women are not usually fond of one another to that extent," said -Mrs. Hill drily; "and a mother does not always love the girl who -is likely to take her son away. No, Allen, I don't love Eva so -much for her own sake as because she is the daughter of Robert -Strode." - -"I thought you disliked him--you said he was not a good man." - -"Neither he was, Allen. He was the worst of men--but I loved him -all the same. I should have married him, but for a trouble that -came. I have never told any one what I am about to tell you, but -you must know. I don't believe your father killed Strode, and you -must do your best to keep him out of the investigation. With your -father's sensitive nature he would go mad if he were accused of -such a crime." - -"But my revolver being found in----" - -"That can be explained," said Mrs. Hill imperiously. "I shall ask -Harold"--she went back to the old name being calmer. "I shall ask -him myself to explain. He is innocent. He is whimsical and -strange, but he would not kill a fly. He is too good-hearted." - -Allen wondered more and more that his mother should be so blind. "I -am waiting to hear," he said resignedly. - -"You will not repeat what I say to Eva?" - -"To no one, mother. Great heavens, do you think I would?" - -"If you took after your father, poor, babbling soul, you would." - -"Ah," Allen kissed her hand, "but I am your own son, and know how to -hold my tongue. Come, mother, tell me all." - -"Then don't interrupt till I end; then you can make your -comments, Allen." She settled herself and began to speak slowly. -"Both my parents died when I was a young girl, and like Eva Strode I -was left without a penny. I was taken into the house of Lord Ipsen as -a nursery governess----" - -"What! Eva's mother----" - -"I did not teach her, as she was my own age, but I taught her younger -brother, who afterwards died. You promised not to interrupt, Allen. -Well, I was comparatively happy there, but Lady Ipsen did not like -me. We got on badly. There was a large house-party at the family seat -in Buckinghamshire, and I was there with my charge. Amongst the -guests were Mr. Strode and your father. They were both in love with -Lady Jane Delham." - -"What! my father also? I never knew----" - -"You never shall know if you interrupt," said his mother imperiously; -"wait and listen. I loved Mr. Strode, but as he was favoured by Lady -Jane I saw there was no chance for me. Your father then had not come -in for his money, and his father, ambitious and rich, was anxious that -he should make an aristocratic match. That was why he asked Lady Jane -to be his wife. She refused, as she loved Robert Strode. I felt very -miserable, Allen, and as your father was miserable also, he used to -console me. He was much appreciated for his talents in the house, and -as he was a great friend of Mr. Strode's his lack of birth was -overlooked. Not that I think Lord Ipsen would have allowed him to -marry Lady Jane. But he never guessed that Harold lifted his eyes so -high. Well, things were in this position when the necklace was -lost--yes, the necklace belonging to Lady Ipsen, a family heirloom -valued at ten thousand pounds. It was taken out of the safe." Mrs. -Hill dropped her eyes and added in a low voice, "I was accused." - -Allen could hardly believe his ears, and rose, filled with -indignation: "Do you mean to say that any one dared to accuse you?" - -"Lady Ipsen did. She never liked me, and made the accusation. She -declared that she left the key of the safe in the school-room. As -I was very poor, she insisted that I had taken it. As it happened -I did go to London shortly after the robbery and before it was -found out. Lady Ispen said that I went to pawn the necklace. I -could not prove my innocence, but the Earl interfered and stood -by me. He insisted that the charge was ridiculous, and made the -detectives which Lady Ipsen had called in, drop the investigation. -I was considered innocent by all save Lady Ipsen. The necklace -was never found, and has not been to this day. I was discharged -with hardly a penny in my pocket and certainly with no friend. -In spite of people saying I was innocent I could not get another -situation. I should have starved, Allen, and was starving in -London when your father came like an angel of light and--married me." - -"Married you? Did he love you?" - -"No, he loved Lady Jane, but she married Mr. Strode. But your father -was so angered at what he considered an unjust charge being made -against me, that he risked his father's wrath and made me his wife." - -"It was noble of him," said Allen, "but----" - -"It was the act of a saint!" cried Mrs. Hill, rising. "His father -cut him off with a shilling for what he did. I was penniless, -deserted, alone. I would have died but for Lawrence. He came--I -did not love him, nor he me, but I respect him for having saved a -broken-hearted woman from a doom worse than death. Allen, Allen, -can I ever repay your father for his noble act? Can you wonder -that I tolerate his whims--that I let him do what he likes? He -saved me--he surrendered all for me." - -"He did act well," admitted Allen, puzzled to think that his -whimsical, frivolous father should act so nobly, "but you made him -happy, mother. There is something to be said on your side." - -"Nothing! nothing!" cried Mrs. Hill with the martyr instinct of a -noble woman; "he gave up all for me. His father relented after a -time, and he inherited a fortune, but for a year we almost starved -together. He married me when I was under a cloud. I can never repay -him; never, never, I tell you, Allen," she said, facing him with -clenched fists, "if I thought that he committed this crime, I would -take the blame on myself rather than let him suffer. He saved me. -Shall I not save him?" - -"Was the person who stole the necklace ever discovered, mother?" - -"No, the necklace vanished and has never been found to this day. -I met Lady Jane Strode when she came here. She did not believe me -to be guilty, and we were good friends. So you see, Allen, it is -small wonder that I let your father do what he likes. Why should -I cross the desires of a man who behaved so nobly? Sometimes I do -interfere, as you know, for at times Harold needs guidance--but -only rarely." - -"Well, mother, I understand now, and can say nothing. But as to -how the revolver came to the Red Deeps----" - -"Your father shall explain," said Mrs. Hill, moving to the door; "come -with me." - -The two went to the room at the back of the house where Hill had lain -down. It was one of the Greek apartments where the little man -sometimes took his siesta. But the graceful couch upon which Allen had -left him lying an hour previous was empty, and the window was open on -to the Roman colonnade. There was no sign of Mr. Hill. - -"He must have gone into the garden," said the wife, and stepped out. - -But there was no sign of him there. The gardener was working in the -distance, and Mrs. Hill asked him where his master was. - -"Gone to London, ma'am," was the unexpected answer; "Jacobs drove him -to the Westhaven Station." - -Allen and his mother looked at one another with dread in their eyes. -This sudden departure was ominous in the extreme. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -ALLEN AS A DETECTIVE - - -Mr. Hill left no message behind him with the groom. Jacobs -returned and said that his master had gone to London; he did not -state when he would return. Allen and his mother were much -perplexed by this disappearance. It looked very much like a flight -from justice, but Mrs. Hill could not be persuaded to think ill of the -man to whom she owed so much. Like many women she took too humble -an attitude on account of the obligation she had incurred. Yet -Mrs. Hill was not humble by nature. - -"What will you do now, Allen?" she asked the next morning. - -"I intend to learn why Cain sent that parcel to my father. If he can -explain I may find out why my father is afraid." - -"I don't think he is afraid," insisted Mrs. Hill, much troubled. - -"It looks very like it," commented her son; "however, you had -better tell the servants that father has gone to London on -business. I expect he will come back. He can't stop away -indefinitely." - -"Of course he'll come back and explain everything. Allen, your -father is whimsical--I always admitted that, but he has a heart -of gold. All that is strange in his conduct he will explain on his -return." - -"Even why he took my revolver to the Red Deeps?" said Allen grimly. - -"Whatever he took it for, it was for no ill purpose," said Mrs. Hill. -"Perhaps he made an appointment to see Strode there. If so I don't -wonder, he went armed, for Strode was quite the kind of man who would -murder him." - -"In that case Mr. Strode has fallen into his own trap. However, I'll -see what I can do." - -"Be careful, Allen. Your father's good name must not suffer." - -"That is why I am undertaking the investigation," replied the young -man, rising. "Well, mother, I am going to see Mrs. Merry and ask where -Cain is to be found. The circus may have left Colchester." - -"You might take the brown paper that was round the box," suggested -Mrs. Hill. "Mrs. Merry may be able to say if the address is in her -son's writing." - -"I don't think it is--the hand is a most illiterate one. Cain knows -how to write better. I have seen his letters to Eva." - -"What!" cried Mrs. Hill, scandalised, "does she let a lad in that -position write to her?" - -"Cain is Eva's foster-brother, mother," said Allen drily, "and she -is the only one who can manage him." - -"He's a bad lot like his father was before him," muttered Mrs. Hill, -and then went to explain to the servants that Mr. Hill would be -absent for a few days. - -Allen walked to Misery Castle, and arrived there just before mid-day. -For some time he had been strolling on the common wondering how to -conduct his campaign. He was new to the detective business and did -not very well know how to proceed. At first he had been inclined to -seek professional assistance; but on second thoughts he decided to -take no one into his confidence for the present. He dreaded what he -might learn concerning his father's connection with the crime, as -he by no means shared his mother's good opinion of Mr. Hill. Allen -and his father had never got on well together, as their natures -were diametrically opposed to each other. Allen had the steady good -sense of his mother, while the father was airy and light and -exasperatingly frivolous. Had not Mrs. Hill thought herself bound, -out of gratitude, to live with the man who had done so much for -her, and because of her son Allen, she certainly would not have put -up with such a trying husband for so many years. Allen was always -impatient of his father's ways; and absence only confirmed him in -the view he took of his evergreen sire. He could scarcely believe -that the man was his father, and always felt relieved when out of -his presence. However, he determined to do his best to get to the -bottom of the matter. He could not believe that Mr. Hill had fired -the fatal shot, but fancied the little man had some knowledge of -who had done so. And whether he was an accessory before or after -the fact was equally unpleasant. - -On arriving at Mrs. Merry's abode he was greeted by that good lady -with the news that Eva had gone to spend the day with Mrs. Palmer. -"To get used to her, as you might say," said Mrs. Merry. "Oh, Mr. -Allen, dear," she spoke with the tears streaming down her withered -face, "oh, whatever shall I do without my deary?" - -"You'll see her often," said Allen soothingly. - -"It won't be the same," moaned Mrs. Merry. "It's like marrying a -daughter, not that I've got one, thank heaven--it's never the same." - -"Well--well--don't cry, there's a good soul. I have come to see you -about Cain." - -Mrs. Merry gave a screech. "He's in gaol! I see it in your eyes! -Oh, well I knew he'd get there!" - -"He hasn't got there yet," said the young man impatiently; "come -into the drawing-room. I can explain." - -"Is it murder or poaching or burglary?" asked Mrs. Merry, still bent -on believing Cain was in trouble, "or horse-stealing, seeing he's in a -circus?" - -"It's none of the three," said Allen, sitting down and taking the -brown paper wrapping out of his pocket. "Jane Wasp saw him in -Colchester, and he's quite well." - -"And what's she been calling on my son there, I'd like to know?" asked -Mrs. Merry, bridling. "He shan't marry her, though he says he loves -her, which I don't believe. To be united with that meddlesome Wasp -policeman. No, Mr. Allen, never, whatever you may say." - -"You can settle that yourself. All I wish to know is this," he spread -out the paper. "Do you know whose writing this is?" - -Mrs. Merry, rather surprised, bent over the paper, and began to spell -out the address with one finger. "Lawrence Hill," she said, "ah, they -used to call your father that in the old days. I never hear him called -so now." - -"Never mind. What of the writing?" - -Mrs. Merry looked at it at a distance, held it close to her nose, -and then tilted it sideways. All the time her face grew paler and -paler. Then she took an envelope out of her pocket and glanced from -the brown paper to the address. Suddenly she gave a cry, and threw -her apron over her head. "Oh, Giles--Giles--whatever have you bin up -to!" - -"What do you mean?" asked Allen, feeling inclined to shake her. - -"It's Giles's writing," sobbed Mrs. Merry, still invisible; -"whatever you may say, it's his own writing, he never having been -to school and writing pothooks and hangers awful." She tore the -apron from her face and pointed, "Look at this Lawrence, and at -this, my name on the envelope. He wrote, saying he's coming here to -worry me, and I expect he's sent to your pa saying the same. They -was thick in the old days, the wicked old days," said Mrs. Merry -with emphasis, "I mean your pa and him as is dead and my brute of a -Giles." - -"So Giles Merry wrote this?" said Allen thoughtfully, looking at -the brown paper writing. "I wonder if the cross is a sign between my -father and him, which has called my father to London?" - -"Have you seen Giles, sir?" asked Mrs. Merry dolefully, "if so, tell -him I'll bolt and bar the house and have a gun ready. I won't be -struck and bullied and badgered out of my own home." - -"I haven't seen your husband," explained Allen, rising, "this -parcel was sent to my father by your son through Jane Wasp." -Mrs. Merry gave another cry. "He's got hold of Cain--oh, and Cain said -he hadn't set eyes on him. He's ruined!" Mrs. Merry flopped into a -chair. "My son's ruined--oh, and he was my pride! But that wicked -father of his would make Heaven the other place, he would." - -"I suppose Cain must have got the parcel from his father?" said Allen. - -"He must have. It's in Giles's writing. What was in the parcel, -sir?" - -"A cross made of two sticks tied with a piece of grass. Do you -know what that means?" - -"No, I don't, but if it comes from Giles Merry, it means some -wicked thing, you may be sure, Mr. Allen, whatever you may say." - -"Well, my father was much upset when he got this parcel and he has -gone to London." - -"To see Giles?" asked Mrs. Merry. - -"I don't know. The parcel came from Colchester." - -"Then Giles is there, and with my poor boy," cried Mrs. Merry, -trembling. "Oh, when will my cup of misery be full? I always -expected this." - -"Don't be foolish, Mrs. Merry. If your husband comes you can show him -the door." - -"He'd show me his boot," retorted Mrs. Merry. "I've a good -mind to sell up, and clear out. If 'twasn't for Miss Eva, I -would. And there, I've had to part from her on account of Giles. -If he came and made the house, what he do make it, which is the -pit of Tophet, a nice thing it would be for Miss Eva." - -"I'll break his head if he worries Eva," said Allen grimly; "I've -dealt before with that sort of ruffian. But I want you to tell me -where Cain is to be heard of. I expect the circus has left -Colchester by this time." - -"Cain never writes to me, he being a bad boy," wailed Mrs. Merry, -"an' now as his father's got hold of him he'll be worse nor ever. -But you can see in the papers where the playactors go, sir." - -"To be sure," said Allen, "how stupid I am. Well, good-day, Mrs. -Merry, and don't tell Miss Eva anything of this." - -"Not if I was tortured into slices," said Mrs. Merry, walking to the -door with Allen, "ah, it's a queer world. I hope I'll go to my long -home soon, sir, and then I'll be where Merry will never come. You -may be sure they won't let him in." - -This view of the case appeared to afford Mrs. Merry much -satisfaction, and she chuckled as Allen walked away. He went along -the road wondering at the situation. His father was not a good -husband to his mother--at least Allen did not think so. Giles -was a brute to his wife, and the late Mr. Strode from all accounts -had been a neglectful spouse. "And they were all three boon -companions," said Allen to himself; "I wonder what I'll find out -about the three? Perhaps Giles has a hand in the death of Strode. At -all events the death has been caused by some trouble of the past. God -forgive me for doubting my father, but I dread to think of what I -may learn if I go on with the case. But for my mother's sake I -_must_ go on." - -Allen now directed his steps to Wasp's abode, as he knew at this hour -the little policeman would be at home. It struck Allen that it would -be just as well to see the bullet which had pierced the heart of -Mr. Strode. If it was one from his own revolver--and Allen knew -the shape of its bullets well--there would be no doubt as to his -father's guilt. But Allen fancied, that from the feeble nature of -the wound on the arm, it was just the kind of shaky aim which would -be taken by a timid man like his father. Perhaps (this was Allen's -theory) the three companions of old met at the Red Deeps--Mr. Strode, -Giles, and his father. Mr. Hill, in a fit of rage, might have fired -the shot which ripped the arm, but Giles must have been the one who -shot Strode through the heart. Of course Allen had no grounds to -think in this way, and it all depended on the sight of the bullet in -the possession of Wasp as to the truth of the theory. Allen intended -to get Wasp out of the room on some pretext and then fit the bullet -into his weapon. He had it in his pocket for the purpose. This was -the only way in which he could think of solving the question as to -his father's guilt or innocence. - -Wasp was at home partaking of a substantial dinner. Some of the -children sat round, and Mrs. Wasp, a grenadier of a woman, was at the -head of the table. But three children sat out with weekly journals on -their laps, and paper and pencil in hand. They all three looked -worried. After greeting Allen, Wasp explained. - -"There's a prize for guessing the names of European capitals," he -said; "it's given in the _Weekly Star_, and I've set them to work to -win the prize. They're working at it now, and don't get food till -each gets at least two capitals. They must earn money somehow, sir." - -"And they've been all the morning without getting one, sir," -said Mrs. Wasp plaintively. Apparently her heart yearned over -her three children, who looked very hungry. "Don't you think they -might eat now in honour of the gentleman's visit?" - -"Silence," cried Wasp, "sit down. No talking in the ranks. -Wellington, Kitchener, and Boadicea"--these were the names of the -unhappy children--"must do their duty. Named after generals, sir," -added Wasp with pride. - -"Was Boadicea a general?" asked Allen, sorry for the unfortunate trio, -who were very eagerly searching for the capitals in a school atlas. - -"A very good one for a woman, sir, as I'm informed by Marlborough, -my eldest, sir, as is at a board school. Boadicea, if you don't -know the capital of Bulgaria you get no dinner." - -Boadicea whimpered, and Allen went over to the three, his kind heart -aching for their hungry looks. "Sofia is the capital. Put it down." - -"Right, sir," said Wasp in a military fashion, "put down Sofia." - -"What capital are you trying to find, Wellington?" asked Allen. - -"Spain, sir, and Kitchener is looking for Victoria." - -"The Australian country, sir, not Her late Majesty," said Wasp -smartly. - -"Madrid is the capital of Spain, and Melbourne that of Victoria." - -The children put these down hastily and simply leaped for the table. - -"Silence," cried the policeman, horrified at this hurry; "say grace." - -The three stood up and recited grace like a drill sergeant shouting -the standing orders for the day. Shortly, their jaws were at work. -Wasp surveyed the family grimly, saw they were orderly, and then -turned to his visitor. - -"Now, Mr. Allen, sir, I am at your disposal. Come into the -parlour." - -He led the way with a military step, and chuckles broke out amongst -the family relieved of his presence. When in the small room and the -door closed, Allen came artfully to the subject of his call. It -would not do to let Wasp suspect his errand. Certainly the -policeman had overcome his suspicion that Allen was concerned in -the matter, but a pointed request for the bullet might reawaken -them. Wasp was one of those hasty people who jump to conclusions, -unsupported by facts. - -"Wasp," said Allen, sitting down under a portrait of Lord Roberts, -"Miss Strode and myself are engaged, as you know." - -"Yes, sir." Wasp standing stiffly saluted. "I give you joy." - -"Thank you. We have been talking over the death of her father, -and she is anxious to learn who killed him." - -"Natural enough," said the policeman, scratching his chin, "but it is -not easy to do that, especially"--Wasp looked sly--"as there is no -reward." - -"Miss Strode is not in a position to offer a reward," replied -Allen, "so, for her sake, I am undertaking the search. I may want -your assistance, Wasp, and I am prepared to pay you for the same. -I am not rich, but if ten pounds would be of any use----" - -"If you'd a family of ten, sir, you'd know as it would," said -Wasp, looking gratified. "I'm not a haggler, Mr. Allen, but with bread -so dear, and my children being large eaters, I'm willing to give you -information for twenty pounds." - -"I can't afford that," said Allen decidedly. - -"I can tell you something about Butsey," said Wasp eagerly. - -"Ten pounds will pay you for your trouble," replied Allen, "and -remember, Wasp, if you don't accept the offer and find the culprit -on your own, there will be no money coming from the Government." - -"There will be promotion, though, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, drawing -himself up, "and that means a larger salary. Let us say fifteen." - -"Very good, though you drive a hard bargain. When the murderer is -laid by the heels I'll pay you fifteen pounds. No, Wasp," he added, -seeing what the policeman was about to say, "I can't give you -anything on account. Well, is it a bargain?" - -"It must be, as you won't do otherwise," said Wasp ruefully. "What do -you want to know?" - -"Tell me about this boy." - -"Butsey?" Wasp produced a large note-book. "I went to Westhaven to -see if there was truth in that Sunday school business he told me -about when I met him. Mr. Allen, there's no Sunday school; but -there was a treat arranged for children from London." - -"Something of the Fresh Air Fund business?" - -"That's it, sir. This was a private business, from some folk as -do kindnesses in Whitechapel. A lot of children came down on -Wednesday----" - -Allen interrupted. "That was the day Mr. Strode came down?" - -"Yes, sir, and on that night he was shot at the Red Deeps. Well, -sir, Butsey must have been with the ragged children as he looks -like that style of urchin. But I can't be sure of this. The -children slept at Westhaven and went back on Thursday night." - -"And Butsey saw Mrs. Merry in the morning of Thursday?" - -"He did, sir, and me later. Butsey I fancy didn't go back till -Saturday. But I can't be sure of this." - -"You don't seem to be sure of anything," said Allen tartly. -"Well, I can't say your information is worth much, Wasp." - -"Hold on, sir. I've got the address of the folk in Whitechapel -who brought the children down. If you look them up, they may know -something of Butsey." - -"True enough. Give me the address." - -Wasp consented, and wrote it out in a stiff military hand, while -Allen went on artfully, "Was any weapon found at the Red Deeps?" - -"No, sir," said Wasp, handing his visitor the address of the -Whitechapel Mission, which Allen put in his pocket-book. "I wish -the revolver had been found, then we'd see if the bullet fitted." - -"Only one bullet was found." - -"Only one, sir. Dr. Grace got it out of the body. It is the bullet -which caused the death, and I got Inspector Garrit to leave it with -me. Perhaps you'd like to see it, sir?" - -"Oh, don't trouble," said Allen carelessly. "I can't say anything -about it, Wasp." - -"Being a gentleman as has travelled you might know something, Mr. -Allen," said Wasp, and went to a large tin box, which was inscribed -with his name and the number of his former regiment, in white -letters. From this he took out a packet, and opening it, -extracted a small twist of paper. Then he placed the bullet in -Allen's hand. - -"I should think it came from a Derringer," said Wasp. - -Allen's heart leaped, for his revolver was not a Derringer. He -turned the bullet in his hand carelessly. "It might," he said -with a shrug. "Pity the other bullet wasn't found." - -"The one as ripped the arm, sir? It's buried in some tree trunk, -I guess, Mr. Allen. But it would be the same size as this. Both -were fired from the same barrel. First shot missed, but the -second did the business. Hold on, sir, I've got a drawing of the -Red Deeps, and I'll show you where we found the corpse," and Wasp -left the room. - -Allen waited till the door was closed, then hastily took the -revolver from his breast-pocket. He tried the bullet, but it proved -to be much too large for the revolving barrel, and could not have -been fired therefrom. "Thank heaven," said Allen, with a sigh of -relief, "my father is innocent." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -LORD SALTARS - - -Mrs. Palmer dwelt in a large and imposing house, some little -distance from the village, and standing back a considerable way -from the Shanton Road. It had a park of fifteen acres filled with -trees, smooth lawns, a straight avenue, imposing iron gates, and a -lodge, so that it was quite an impressive mansion. The building -itself was square, of two stories, painted white, and had many -windows with green shutters. It somewhat resembled an Italian -villa, and needed sunshine to bring out its good points; but in -wet weather it looked miserable and dreary. It was elevated on a -kind of mound, and a stone terrace ran round the front and the -side. At the back were large gardens and ranges of hot-houses. -Everything was kept as neat as a new pin, for Mrs. Palmer had many -servants. Being rich, she could afford to indulge her fancies, and -made full use of her money. - -"La, dear," said Mrs. Palmer, when Eva was settled with her as -companion, "what's the use of five thousand a year if you don't -make yourself comfortable? I was brought up in a shabby way, as -poor dead pa was a small--very small--chemist at Shanton. Palmer -had his shop in Westhaven and was also in a grubbing way of -business till people took to coming to Westhaven. Then property -rose in value, and Palmer made money. He used to call on pa and -commiserate with him about the dull trade in Shanton, where people -were never sick. He advised him to move to Westhaven, but pa, losing -heart after the death of ma, would not budge. Then Palmer proposed to -me, and though I was in love with Jimmy Eccles at the Bank, I thought -I'd marry money. Oh, dear me," sighed Mrs. Palmer looking very pretty -and placid, "so here I am a widow." - -"A happy widow," said Eva, smiling. - -"I don't deny that, dear. Though, to be sure, the death of poor pa, -and of Palmer, were blows. I was fond of both. Jimmy Eccles -wanted to marry me when Palmer went, but I sent him off with a flea -in his ears. It was only my money he wanted. Now he's married a -freckled-faced girl, whose pa is a draper." - -"I suppose you will marry again, Mrs. Palmer?" - -"I suppose I will, when I get the man to suit. But I do wish, Eva -dear, you would call me Constance. I'm sure you might, after being -three days in the house. Call me Constance, and I'll tell you -something which will please you." - -"What is it, Constance?" - -"There's a dear. I shan't tell you yet--it's a surprise, and perhaps -you may be angry with me. But some one is coming to dinner." - -"Allen?" asked Eva, her face lighting up. - -"No! He's in town. At least you told me so." - -Eva nodded. "Yes; he went up to town last week, after seeing -Wasp." - -"About that horrid murder?" - -"Certainly. Allen is trying to learn who killed my father." - -"It's very good of him," said the widow, fanning herself -vigorously, "and I'm sure I hope he'll find out. The man who shot -Mr. Strode should be hanged, or we won't sleep in our beds safe. -Why, Eva, you have no idea how I tremble here at nights. This is a -lonely house, and these holiday trippers might bring down burglars -amongst them." - -"I don't think you need fear, Constance. There have been no -burglars down here. Besides, you have a footman, and a coachman, -and a gardener. With three men you are quite safe." - -"I'm sure I hope so, dear. But one never knows. When do you expect Mr. -Hill back?" - -"In a few days. I don't know what he's doing. He refuses to tell -me anything until he finds some definite clue. But I have his -address, and can write to him when I want to." - -"His father is in town also--so Mrs. Hill told me." - -"Yes, Mr. Hill went up before Allen. I believe he has gone to some -sale to buy ancient musical instruments." - -"Dear me," said Mrs. Palmer, "what rubbish that man does spend his -money on. What's the use of buying instruments you can't play on? -I dare say he'll try to, though, for Mr. Hill is the queerest man -I ever set eyes on." - -"He _is_ strange," said Eva gravely. She did not wish to tell Mrs. -Palmer that she disliked the little man, for after all he was -Allen's father, and there was no need to say anything. "But Mr. -Hill is very clever." - -"So they say. But he worries me. He's always got some new idea in -his head. I think he changes a thousand times a day. Mrs. Merry -doesn't like him, but then she likes no one, not even me." - -"Poor nurse," said Eva sadly, "she has had an unhappy life." - -"I don't think you have had a bright one, dear; but you shall -have, if I can make it so. Are you sure you have everything you -want?" - -"Everything," said Eva affectionately; "you are more than kind, -Mrs.----" - -"_Constance!_" cried the pretty widow in a high key. - -"Constance, of course. But tell me your surprise." - -Mrs. Palmer began to fidget. "I don't know if you will be pleased, -after all, Eva. But if you don't like to meet him say you have a -headache, and I'll entertain him myself." - -"Who is it?" asked Eva, surprised at this speech. - -"Lord Saltars," said Mrs. Palmer in a very small voice, and not -daring to look at her companion. - -Miss Strode did not reply at once. She was ill-pleased that the man -should come to the house, because she did not wish to meet him. Her -mother's family had done nothing for her, and even when she lost -her father, Saltars, although in the neighbourhood, had not been -kind enough to call. Eva met him once, and, as she had told Mrs. -Palmer, did not like his free and easy manner. However, it was not -her place to object to Saltars coming. This was not her house, and -she was merely a paid companion. This being the case, she overcame -her momentary resentment and resolved to make the best of the -position. She did this the more especially as she knew that Mrs. -Palmer had only been actuated in inviting Saltars by her worship of -rank. "I shall be quite pleased to meet my cousin," said Eva. - -"I hope you are not annoyed, Eva." - -"I am not exactly pleased, but this is your house, and----" - -"Oh, please--please don't speak like that," cried the widow, "you -make me feel so cheap. And the fact is--I may as well confess -it--Lord Saltars, knowing you were with me, for I told my Shanton -friends and they told him, asked if I would invite him to dinner." - -"To meet me, I suppose?" - -"I fancy so. But why don't you like him, Eva He's a very nice man." - -"Not the kind of man I care about," replied Eva, rising; -"however, Mrs. Palmer, I'll meet him. It's time to dress now." -She glanced at the clock. "At what time does he arrive?" - -"At seven. He's at Shanton." - -"Ah! Is the circus there again?" - -"Yes. It is paying a return visit. But I know you're angry with -me, dear--you call me Mrs. Palmer." - -"Very well, then, Constance," said Eva, and kissing the pouting widow -she escaped to her own room. - -Mrs. Palmer was kind and generous, and made her position more -pleasant than she expected. But Mrs. Palmer was also foolish in -many ways, particularly in her worship of rank. Because Lord Saltars -had a title she was willing to overlook his deficiencies, though he -was neither intellectual nor amusing. Eva really liked Mrs. -Palmer and felt indebted to her, but she wished the widow's good -taste had led her to refuse Saltars permission to call. But -there--as Mrs. Merry would say--Mrs. Palmer not being a gentlewoman -had no inherent good taste. But for her kind heart she would have -been intolerable. However, Eva hoped to improve her into something -better, by gentle means, though Constance with her loud tastes and -patent tuft-hunting was a difficult subject. - -As she was in mourning for her father, Eva dressed in the same -black gauze gown in which she had hoped to welcome him, but without -any touch of colour on this occasion. As she went down the stairs, -she hoped that Mrs. Palmer would be in the room to welcome her -noble visitor, so as to save the embarrassment of a _tête-à-tête_. -But Mrs. Palmer was one of those women who never know the value of -time, and when Eva entered the drawing-room she found herself -greeted by a short, square-built jovial-looking man of forty. -Saltars was perfectly dressed and looked a gentleman, but his small -grey eyes, his red, clean-shaven face and remarkably closely -clipped hair did not, on the whole, make up a good-looking man. As -soon as he saw Eva, he strolled forward calmly and eyed her -critically. - -"How are you, Miss Strode?--or shall I say Cousin Eva?" - -"I think Miss Strode is sufficient," said Eva, seating herself. "I -am sorry Mrs. Palmer is not down yet." - -"By Jove, I'm not," said Saltars, taking possession of a near -chair. "I want to have a talk with you." - -"This is hardly the hour or the place." - -"Come now, Miss Strode--if you will insist on being so stiff--you -needn't be too hard on a chap. I know I should have called, and I -quite intended to do so, but I had reasons----" - -"I don't ask for your reasons, Lord Saltars." - -The man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We -don't seem to get on," he said at length, "yet I wish to be -friendly. See here, I want my mother to call and see you." - -"If Lady Ipsen calls, I shall be pleased." - -"In a society way, but you won't be heart-pleased." - -"No," said Eva, very decidedly; "how can you expect me to? Your -family has not treated me or my dead father well." - -"Your father----" Saltars clicked again and seemed on the point -of saying something uncomplimentary of the dead; but a gleam in -his companion's eye made him change his mind. "I know you've been -a bit neglected, and I'm very sorry it should be so," said he -bluntly. "I assure you that it was always my wish you should be -invited to stop with us in Buckinghamshire. And my father was in -favour of it too." - -"But Lady Ipsen wasn't," said Eva coolly; "don't trouble to -apologise, Lord Saltars, I should not have gone in any case." - -"No, by Jove, I can see that. You're as proud as a peacock--just -like the portrait of Lady Barbara Delham who lived in Queen -Anne's reign. And she was a Tartar." - -Eva began to smile. Saltars was amusing. She saw that he was -simply a thoughtless man, who lived for himself alone. He -apparently wished to be friendly, so as Eva had no real grudge -against him, she unbent. - -"I don't think we need quarrel," she said. - -"No, by Jove. But I shan't. Any quarrelling that is to be done -must be on your side. There's enough in our family as it is. You -should hear how my mother and the dowager Lady Ipsen fight: but then -the dowager is a dreadful old cat," he finished candidly. - -"I have never seen her." - -"You wouldn't forget her if you did. She's beaked like a parrot, and -talks like one. She and I don't hit it off. She's one of what they -call the old school, whatever that means, and she thinks I'm a low -person--like a groom. What do you think?" - -Lord Saltars was not unlike a groom in some ways, but his good nature -and candour amused Eva. "I am not a person to judge," she said, -smiling. - -"By Jove, you might have been, though," said he, fixing his small grey -eyes on her; "supposing you became Lady Saltars?" - -"There's not the slightest chance of that," said Eva coldly. - -"There isn't now: but there might have been. And after all, why not -now, if things are what your father said they were?" - -Miss Strode drew herself up. She thought he was going too far. "I -really don't know what you mean. I am engaged to be married." - -"I know; to a fellow called Hill. Your father told me." - -"Lord Saltars, did you meet my father after he came home?" - -"Of course I did. He called to see me when he came to London, and -corresponded with me long before that. I say, do you remember when I -came to see you at Wargrove?" - -"Yes. We did not get on well together." - -"By Jove, no more we did! That was a pity, because I came to see -what kind of a wife you'd make." - -"You're very kind," said Eva indignantly, "but I'm not on the -market to be examined like a horse." - -"Haw--haw," laughed the other, slapping his knee, "that's the kind of -thing the dowager would say. Don't get waxy, Eva--Miss Strode then, -though I wish you'd call me Herbert and I'd call you Eva." - -"I shall call you Lord Saltars." - -"Saltars without the confounded lord," urged the man pertinaciously. - -"No; go on. What were you saying? Yes, that you came to see what sort -of a wife I'd make. Who told you to?" - -"Your father." - -"I don't believe it." - -"It's true, though. Your father wanted you to marry me. He kept -writing to me from South Africa to keep me up to the scratch, and -said he was gathering a fortune for us both. When he came home he -called on me and told me you had some folly in your head about this -chap Hill, and----" - -Eva rose indignantly, "Lord Saltars," she said calmly and -distinctly, "I don't allow any one to talk to me in this way. My -engagement to Mr. Allen Hill is not a folly. And I don't see why my -father should have talked to you about it." - -"Because he wanted me to marry you," said Saltars, rising and -following her to the fireplace. - -Eva placed one slippered foot on the fender, and an elbow on the -mantelpiece. She looked angry, but extremely pretty and well-bred. -Saltars adopted the same attitude opposite her and looked more like a -groom than ever. But the expression of his face was so good-natured -that Eva could not feel as angry as she ought to have done. - -"I should never have married you," she said, her colour deepening. "I -understand that you have other views." - -Saltars grew red in his turn. "It's that boy Cain's been talking," he -said; "I'll break his head." - -"That is for you and Cain to decide," said Miss Strode indifferently, -"but you can quite understand why I don't discuss these things." - -Saltars kicked the fender sulkily. "I wish you would be more -friendly, Eva," he said. "I need a friend, and so, by Jove, do you." - -"How can I befriend you?" - -"Well, I'm in love with Miss Lorry, and there will be a shine if -I marry her. She's perfectly straight and----" - -"I don't want to hear about her," said Eva angrily, "and if you were a -gentlemen you wouldn't talk to me of that sort of person." - -"She's a perfectly decent sort," said Saltars, angry in his turn, "I -intend to make her my wife." - -"That has nothing to do with me. And I wish you'd drop this -conversation, Lord Saltars. It doesn't interest me. I am quite willing -to be friends. Your manner is absurd, but you mean well. Come," and -she held out her hand. - -Saltars took it with a long breath. "Just like the dowager," said he, -"just as nippy. I'd like to see you have a turn up with old Lady -Ipsen." - -"Well, then," said Eva, "now we are friends and you promise not to -talk nonsense to me, tell me what you mean by my father making a -fortune for me." - -"For both of us, by Jove," said his lordship; "you were to be Lady -Saltars, and then we were to have forty thousand pounds." - -"But my father didn't leave me a penny," said Eva. - -"That's what I wish to see you about," said Saltars earnestly. "I -heard from Mrs. Palmer's friends that you were without money, and were -her companion, so I wrote asking to come to-night. I want to be your -friend and help you. You ought to have forty thousand pounds." - -"How do you know that?" - -"Because I saw your father twice before he was killed: within the -last six weeks. He told me that he had brought home forty thousand -pounds. Twice he told me that; but he did not say how it was -invested. I expect his lawyer, Mask, can tell you. He's my lawyer -too." - -"Mr. Mask told me that I inherited no money." - -"Yet your father saw him," said the perplexed Saltars. - -"I know he did; but he said nothing about forty thousand pounds. I -know that he told Mr. Mask he would place some money in his keeping, -without mentioning the amount, but he never did so." - -"Didn't you find the money in his portmanteau or box, or----?" - -"We found nothing; nor did we find any papers mentioning that such a -sum of money was in existence." - -"Then he must have been robbed of it, when dead." - -Eva shook her head. "Nothing was taken out of his pockets. His money, -his jewellery, his watch--nothing was taken." - -"Queer," said Saltars. "Did you find in his pockets a large blue -pocket-book with his crest on it, stamped in gold?" - -"No. When did you see that?" - -"When he was talking to me. I was hard up. I don't mind saying," -said Saltars frankly, "that I'm always hard up. As your father -looked upon me as his intended son-in-law, he gave me a pony, and -took the notes out of the blue pocket-book. He carried his money -there." - -"He would scarcely carry forty thousand pounds there." - -"No; but he might have carried a letter of credit for that -amount. Or at least he would have some memorandum of such a large -sum. If any notes were stolen with the pocket-book, you can trace -those by the numbers when the murderer presents them, and then -the beast will be caught. But the forty thousand----" - -"Stop--stop," said Eva, my head is in a whirl. "Are you sure?" - -"Perfectly; I was to marry you, and then we were to get the money. -And I may tell you that your father said, more would come to us -when he died. Depend upon it, Eva, the murder was committed for -the sake of that money." - -"I wonder if my father meant diamonds?" said Eva. - -Saltars started. "By Jove, I shouldn't wonder," he said eagerly, -"he would bring diamonds from South Africa as the easiest way to -carry such a large sum. Perhaps he had the diamonds in his pocket -and they were stolen." - -"I must tell Allen this." - - - -"Who is Allen?--oh, young Hill! Don't deny it. I can see it in your -face, it's the lucky man. And by Jove he is. I don't see why I should -surrender you. Your father wished us to marry----" - -"You go too fast, Lord Saltars. Remember Miss Lorry." - -Saltars would have said something more but that the door opened and -Mrs. Palmer, fastening her glove, sailed in. "Not a word of the -diamonds to any one," said Eva hurriedly. - -"Not a word," said Saltars in a low voice, then raised it -gaily--"How are you, Mrs. Palmer? My cousin and I have been -talking"--he looked at Eva inquiringly, his invention failing -him--"About--about----" - -"Chinese metaphysics," said the feminine intellect. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE OTHER WOMAN - - -Lord Saltars spent a very enjoyable evening in the company of two -pretty women. Eva had no chance of further conversation, as Mrs. -Palmer made the most of her noble guest. She sang to him, she -chattered to him, she did all that a lively woman could do to amuse -him. In fact, it seemed to Eva as though the widow was trying to -fascinate his lordship. Saltars, no fool, saw this also. - -"But it won't do," chuckled the guest, as he drove back to Shanton in -a smart dog-cart. "She's a pretty, saucy little woman that widow, and -has money, too, though not enough for me to marry her on. Then Eva's -worth a dozen of her, for looks and breeding. But then she's got no -money, and I can't afford to marry poverty. Of course that forty -thousand pounds might turn up, but on the other hand it might not. -Finally, there's Bell Lorry! Ugh!" his lordship shivered. "I'm not so -gone on her as I was; yet there's something infernally taking about -Bell. She's a fine woman--with a temper. But she's got no money, and -no birth, and precious little character, I should say. I'm not going -to marry her, though she thinks so. But it will be the deuce's own -job to get rid of her." - -Saltars argued this way until he arrived at Shanton. Then he -delivered the reins to his groom at the door of the Queen's Hotel, -where he was stopping, and rang the bell. It was after twelve -o'clock, and a fine starry night. But the chill in the air made -Saltars pull up the collar of his overcoat and grumble. He was -anxious for his bed and a glass of steaming grog. He got the last, -but he was prevented from getting to the first by reason of a -visitor. On ascending to his sitting-room he was met by a sleepy -waiter. - -"Your lordship," said this individual, "there's a lady waiting to see -your lordship in your lordship's room." - -"What, at this hour! It's not respectable." - -"So the landlady told her, your lordship, but she said that she would -do what she liked, and threatened to make a scene. Mrs. Cowper then -thought it would be best to let her stay. She's waiting upstairs--the -lady, I mean, your lordship--and is in a fine rage." - -"It sounds like Bell," thought Saltars, and dismissed the old waiter, -who went back to tell the night-porter he was going to bed. But the -night-porter persuaded him to remain up for a time. - -"There's going to be a row with that wench," said the night-porter; -"she's a circus-rider--Miss Lorry by name, and has a temper of her -own. I think she'll give it to his lordship hot. I wonder Mrs. Cowper -don't object to such goings on." - -So the two men, waiter and night-porter, remained below while -Saltars, fully aware from the description that his visitor was Miss -Lorry, entered the room prepared for a storm. The lady was seated in -a chair near the table, and was drinking champagne which she had -ordered at his expense. She was a fine-looking woman of mature -age, and was expensively dressed in blue silk. Her arms and neck -were bare, and she wore many jewels. As she was of the Junoesque -order of woman, she looked remarkably well. Her cheeks were -flushed, but whether from the champagne or from rage it was -impossible to say. Probably a mixture of both gave her the high -colour she wore, when she looked up to see Saltars enter. - -In spite of this description and of the lateness of the hour, and -of the lady's loud manner, it must not be thought that Miss Lorry -was anything but a thoroughly decent woman--if somewhat of a -Bohemian. She was known as an accomplished rider throughout the -length and breadth of the three kingdoms, and no one had a word to -say against her character. She was certainly fond of wine, but kept -her liking for that within due bounds, as a rule. She was also -kind-hearted, charitable, and generous. Many a man and woman -connected with the circus, and with the sawdust profession as a -whole, had cause to remember Miss Lorry's kind heart. Bohemian as -she was, the woman was really good and true and had many noble -instincts. Saltars might have done worse than marry her, in spite -of her birth, and profession, and years--for she certainly was -older than he was. But Saltars, with his shallow instincts, looked -on the outward beauty of Bell Lorry somewhat coarsened by age and -her hard life. He had not the penetration to see the real, true, -kindly, noble soul she possessed. And then it must be confessed -that Miss Lorry masked her many good qualities by indulging on the -least provocation in royal rages. When blind with passion, she was -capable of anything. - -"Oh," said she, tossing her head, "so you're back!" - -"Just so," replied Saltars, taking off his overcoat and tossing it -on to the sofa. "I didn't expect to find you here--it's after -twelve--really you should not, you know, for your own sake. People -will talk, and the landlady here is no angel." - -Miss Lorry snapped her fingers and drank some wine. "That for the -landlady," she said coolly, "so long as my conscience is clear, I'm -not afraid of what people say. And I couldn't go to bed without -seeing you. The circus leaves for Chelmsford to-morrow." - -"But you needn't go with it," said Saltars, lighting a cigarette. -"I daresay we can have a talk to-morrow before you go?" - -"We must have a talk to-night and an understanding too," snapped -the woman, her eyes blazing. "Look here, Lord Saltars, what do you -mean by going after that girl?" - -"What girl?" asked his lordship, taking a seat. - -"You know well enough. You've been over to Wargrove to dine with that -Mrs. Palmer, and Miss Strode is with her as a companion." - -"You seem to know all about it, Bell." - -"Don't call me Bell. I've never given you permission to call me -by my christian name. I always call you Lord Saltars and not -Herbert. You can't say a word against me." - -"I don't want to, but----" - -"I shan't listen to your remarks," said Miss Lorry in a rage; "you -think because I'm a circus-rider that I've got no pride and no -decency. But I'd have your lordship know that I'm a respectable -woman, and there's no mud can be thrown at me. You asked me to marry -you, and I said I would. Is that so?" - -"Yes, but----" - -"Hold your tongue. If that is so, what right have you to go after that -girl? She's a nice girl and a decent girl, and a lady, which I am not. -All the same, you shan't spoil her life." - -Saltars raised his eyebrows. "I have no intention of spoiling her -life. She's my cousin, if you remember----" - -"Oh, I know. But you're just the sort of man to make love to her, and -break her heart. And as you're engaged to marry me, I shan't have it. -So you look out, Mr. Herbert Delham, or Lord Saltars, or whatever you -call yourself." - -"I wouldn't get in a rage over nothing, if I were you," said Saltars -coolly, "and I shouldn't drink more of that wine either. It only -excites you. Try this," he tossed her a cigarette, "it may calm your -nerves." - -"My nerves are my own to do what I like with. And if you had my -nerves you might talk. It isn't a nervous woman who can ride and -control a savage stallion like White Robin." - -"That horse will kill you some day," said Saltars; "he's got the -temper of a fiend." - -"So have I when roused, so don't you make me angry." - -"You're not very good-tempered now. Try the cigarette." - -"I'll smoke if you hand me one properly and light it for me. I do not -take things thrown to me as if I were a dog." - -Lord Saltars rose and produced another cigarette--the one he threw -was lying on the table. He offered this to Miss Lorry with a bow, -and then gravely lighted a match. In another minute the smoke was -curling from her full lips, and she calmed down. Saltars returned to -his seat and lighted a new roll of tobacco with the stump of his old -cigarette. "How did you know I went to Shanton to-night?" - -"Cain told me. Yes, and he told me about Miss Strode being Mrs. -Palmer's companion. He went to-day to see his mother, with whom Miss -Strode lived. She--the mother, I mean--knew that you were going to -Mrs. Palmer's to-night, as Mrs. Palmer told her." - -"I wonder Mrs. Palmer took the trouble," said Saltars coolly. "My -movements seem to interest her, and this Mrs. Merry and Cain. I'll -break that young man's head if he spies on me." - -"You'll have to reckon with Signor Antonio if you do, and, as he's the -Strong Man of our show, you'll get the worst of it." - -"Great strength doesn't usually mean science. And I think I can put -up my flippers with any man." - -"You're a brute," said Miss Lorry, with an admiring glance at Saltars' -sullen strength, which was what attracted her; "no one would take you -to be a nobleman." - -"As to Signor Antonio," went on Saltars, taking no notice of the -compliment, "he's not an Italian in spite of his dark looks and -broken English. He's a half-bred gipsy mumper, and a blackguard at -that. You seem to know him pretty well, Miss Lorry. I can't say I -admire your choice of acquaintances." - -"I know you," she retorted, "so you're the last person to talk. As -to Antonio, he's been with the show for years, and I'm always -friendly with fellow artistes. He's a brute, as you are: but he -daren't show his teeth to me." - -"He shows them to Cain often enough." - -"He's fond of the boy all the same, and he's the----" here Miss -Lorry checked herself; "well it doesn't matter. I didn't come here -to talk about Antonio. It's getting late, and I want to go to my -room. I'm lodging in the next house." - -"You should have left a message asking me to call." - -"I dare say, and you'd have come, wouldn't you?" - -"But here at this hour your reputation----" - -"Leave my reputation alone," cried Miss Lorry in a rage, "it's -better than yours. I'd like to see any one say a word again me. I'd -have the law of him or her--if you're thinking of that white-faced -cat the landlady. But see here, about Miss Strode----" - -"Don't say anything about Miss Strode. I called, as her cousin. -There's no chance of my marrying her." - -"Mr. Strode said otherwise." - -"You didn't know Strode," said Saltars, starting and looking puzzled. - -"Oh, didn't I though?" jeered Miss Lorry; "well, I just did. Six -years ago I knew him. He came to the circus, behind the scenes, I -mean, to see Signor Antonio. He spotted Antonio performing in the -ring and recognised an old friend. So he called after the -performance and was introduced to me. I knew him again when he came -to the circus when we were near London. He came to see you then." - -"I know he did. Strode called at my digs and found from my man -that I'd gone to the circus. As he wished to see me before he went -to Wargrove, he followed me to the show. But I didn't know you -spoke to him, or even knew him." - -"He came to see me on his own," said Miss Lorry, frowning, "when you -were talking to Stag. We had a conversation, and he said you were -going to marry Miss Strode----" - -"Well, I wasn't engaged to you then." - -"You're not engaged now unless I choose to," said the woman coolly, -"but you were making love to me, and I told Mr. Strode that I had a -claim on you. He lost his temper and said you had promised to marry -his daughter." - -"If I had, I would hardly have proposed to you," said Saltars -diplomatically. - -"Oh, I don't know. You do exactly what suits you. And if Mr. Strode -had lived he might have induced you to throw me over and marry Miss -Strode. But he's dead, whosoever killed him, poor man, and you're -engaged to me. Do you intend to marry me or not?" - -"Well I want to, but there's no money." - -"How do you know there's no money? I've got my savings. Yes, you may -look; but I'm no spendthrift. I have enough invested to bring me in -five hundred a year, and many a year I've worked to get the money -together. We can live on that and with what your father will allow -you." - -"My father won't allow me a penny if I marry you." - -Miss Lorry rose calmly. "Very good. If you're going to take that -line, let us part. I shan't see you again after to-night." - -But Saltars was not going to let her go so easily. He really loved -this woman, while his liking for Eva was only a passing fancy begotten -of her dead father's schemes. Often, when away from Miss Lorry did he -curse himself for a fool, and decide to break his chains, but when in -her presence the magnetism of the woman asserted itself. Her bold, -free, fiery spirit appealed to Saltars greatly: also she was a -splendid horsewoman and could talk wisely about the stables. Saltars -loved horses more than anything in life save this woman, and her -conversation was always within his comprehension. Moreover, during all -the time of their courting she had never allowed him to even kiss her, -always asserting that she was a respectable woman. Consequently as the -fruit was dangling just out of Saltars' reach and only to be obtained -by marriage, he was the more anxious to pluck it. Finally, Bell was -really a magnificent-looking woman in a bold way, and this also -appealed to the susceptible nature of Saltars. - -"Don't go, Bell," he said, catching her dress as she moved to the -door. Whereat she turned on him. - -"Leave me alone, Lord Saltars, and call me Miss Lorry. I won't have -you take liberties. Either you love me and will marry me openly in a -decent church, or we part. I'm not going to have mud thrown on my good -name for you or any one." - -"You know that I love you----" - -"I know nothing of the sort. If you did, you'd not go after your -cousin; not that I've a word to say against her, though she did -treat me like dirt when we spoke at Wargrove." - -"I only went to see my cousin about the money left by her father." - -Miss Lorry turned and leaned against the wall near the door. "There -was no money left," she said sharply. "Mrs. Merry told Cain, and he -told me. The poor girl has to go out as a companion." - -"I know. But there is money. Strode told me that he would give her and -me forty thousand pounds if we married." - -"Very well, then," said Miss Lorry, her eyes flashing; "why don't you -go and marry her? I won't stop you." - -"Because, in the first place, I love you; in the second, she has not -got the money and don't know where it is; and in the third, she is -engaged to a fellow called Hill." - -"Allen Hill?" said Miss Lorry; "yes, I remember him. He told me he -was engaged when we spoke at the gate of the cottage. A nice young -fellow and quite the man. I love a man," said Miss Lorry admiringly, -"and that chap has a man's eye in his head, I can tell you." - -"What about me?" - -"Oh, you're a man right enough, or I shouldn't have taken up with you. -But I say, if Miss Strode's engaged to Hill why doesn't she marry him -now that the father's dead and there's no obstacle?" - -"I don't know why the marriage doesn't take place," said Saltars -pondering, "but I think it is because there's no money." - -"There's the forty thousand pounds." - -"That can't be found, and there's no memorandum amongst the papers of -Strode likely to say where it is. I expect he brought the money home -from Africa in the form of diamonds, and hid them somewhere." - -Miss Lorry changed colour. "Oh," she said thoughtfully, and then went -on rapidly, "If this forty thousand pounds comes to Miss Strode, I -suppose she'd marry Hill." - -"Rather. She seems very fond of him." - -"He's worth being fond of! he's a man I tell you, Saltars. Humph! I -wonder if the money can be found?" - -"There doesn't seem to be much chance." - -"Do you think the money is locked up in diamonds?" - -"It might be. As no money was found, Strode might have brought home -his fortune in that form." - -"I read the papers about the inquest," said Miss Lorry, staring at the -ground; "what about that lawyer?" - -"Mask? Oh, he knows nothing. He said so at the inquest." - -"I wonder if the wooden hand has anything to do with the matter?" - -"Well," said Saltars, rising and yawning, "it was certainly stolen, -so it would seem it had a value. Of course if the hand was sent to -Mask it was to be a sign that he had to give up any money he might -have. It might have been stolen for that purpose." - -"Yes, and the man might have been murdered to obtain possession of -it." - -"I don't think so. If Strode had been murdered on that account, the -hand would have been stolen when the body was lying in the Red Deeps." - -"It was stolen when it lay in the cottage," said Miss Lorry, "I -remember. And Mask said that he had no money of Strode's, so -there's not much use of the hand being sent to him. It's all very -queer." - -"Do you intend to try and unravel the mystery of the death?" - -"Why not? I'd like that girl married to Hill and out of my way. I -don't intend to let her marry you. So good-night," and Miss Lorry -marched off without a word more. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -SIGNOR ANTONIO - - -Cain Merry was a particular pet of Miss Lorry's, and the lad felt -grateful to her for the attention. He admired her exceedingly, and at -one time had fancied himself in love with her. But Miss Lorry, -experienced in admirers, laughed at him the moment she descried the -early symptoms, and told him she was old enough to be his mother. It -was creditable to Cain that he took the hint thus given, and devoted -himself to Jane Wasp, with whom he had been in love ever since they -attended the same board school. And after his passing fancy for Miss -Lorry, the lad's love for the policeman's daughter became even more -marked, much to the joy of Jane, who adored the dark-eyed scamp, and -lost no opportunity of meeting him. - -But Cain was such a Bohemian, that this was no easy matter. Owing to -the nagging of his mother, he stayed away from Misery Castle as much -as he could, and got jobs in the surrounding country and in London. -Also there was some influence at work on Cain's character, which Jane -could not understand: something that made him moody and inclined him -to despair. In her simple way Jane tried to learn what it was, that -she might comfort him, but Cain always baffled her. - -On the morning after Miss Lorry's interview with Saltars, the lad was -more dismal than usual, and was rather listless in his work. As the -circus was packing up to move on to Chelmsford, there was little time -to be lost, and Cain came in for many a hard word. At length the -manager became exasperated at his indolence, and sent him off with a -message to Miss Lorry, who had rooms near the Queen's Hotel. Nothing -loath to be relieved from moving heavy beams, and taking down the -large tent, Cain set off in better spirits. - -On passing through the market place about ten o'clock he saw Jane, -perched on a light market cart, and ran towards her with a bright -face. The girl received him with a joyful cry, and explained that she -had been looking for him for the past hour. - -"Mrs. Whiffles drove me over," she explained, getting down to speak -more freely; "she keeps the Wargrove inn, you know----" - -"Of course I know," said Cain quickly; "I'm Wargrove as well as you, -Jane. But how did your father let you go. I thought he was keeping you -in, to help your mother." - -"Ah, he does that," said Jane with a sigh; "father's a hard one, -Cain, and hates you like poison. You see he's all for the law, -and you----" - -"And I'm a vagabond, as my mother says. Well, Jane, don't you -fret, I'm getting a higher law than that your father serves. I'll -tell you about it some day. How did you come over?" - -"I told you. I came with Mrs. Whiffles. Mother wanted some things -here, and as Mrs. Whiffles was going, she thought I might come too. I -shan't tell father anything, nor will mother. He's out till two, and -we must be back before then. But mother wouldn't have let me come had -she known the circus was here, Cain. She says I'm not to think of you -at all. I'm to go out to service." - -"We may marry before you do that," said Cain quickly; "how did you -know the circus was here?" - -"Mr. Hill's groom Jacobs told me." - -"Oh!" Cain frowned. "You're too thick with that Harry Jacobs." - -"I've known him all my life, Cain." - -"So have I, and I don't like him. He thinks he's every one, because he -wears a smart livery. I wear just as smart a one in the circus." - -"Yes, but the circus ain't decent, Cain. I could never marry you if -you kept on there. I couldn't go about as you do, and if you're to be -my husband I'd like to be near you." - -"You shall be near me, and we'll marry to take service in something -better than a circus," said Cain, his face lighting up. - -"What's that?" - -Cain drew near and was about to speak, when his ear was suddenly -seized by a large dark man, who frowned. "Why aren't you seeing Miss -Lorry, you young scamp?" said the stranger. "I've got to do your -business. Mr. Stag asked you particularly to give that note. Hand it -over." - -"I'll take it now," said Cain, getting free; "leave my ear alone." - -"You give the note to me, Cain. Who is this?" and he looked at Jane. - -"She's a friend of mine from Wargrove," said Cain sulkily; "get back -into the cart, Jane." - -"From Wargrove?" said the dark man with a queer smile; "and her name?" - -"I'm Jane Wasp, sir," said the girl, looking into the man's somewhat -brutal face. - -The man laughed. "Policeman Wasp's daughter, as I'm a sinner. How's -your fool of a father? Catching every one he shouldn't catch, I -suppose? He was always too clever." - -Cain interposed. "Leave her alone fa----, I mean Signor -Antonio," he said, "she's going home." - -Signor Antonio turned on him with a snarl. "Hold your tongue, you -whelp," he said, "I'll talk to whom I like and as long as I like. I -want to know what Policeman Wasp's doing now?" - -"He's looking after the murderer of Mr. Strode," said Jane -politely. - -The man started and laughed. "I hope he'll catch him: but it's a -business rather beyond his powers, I fancy. Stop, you're the girl -who delivered the package to Mr. Hill." - -"To young Mr. Hill," said Jane, climbing into Mrs. Whiffles cart, "not -to the father." - -Signor Antonio turned on the boy with a frown. "I told you it was to -be given to Mr. Hill himself." - -"Well, he got it right enough," said Cain impatiently. "I gave it to -Jane at Colchester, and she took it to Mr. Allen, who gave it to his -father." - -"And what happened?" - -"I don't know," said Jane. "I didn't see Mr. Hill get it." - -"You fool," cried Antonio turning on Cain with another snarl. "I -wanted the girl to report how Hill looked when he opened the -package, and now----" - -"Jane's got nothing to do with this business," said Cain resolutely, -"and I won't have her mixed up in your affairs." - -"Do you know who I am?" demanded the man, black with anger. - -"Yes," replied the boy with a queer look; "you're Signor Antonio." - -Jane thought she would interfere as there seemed to be a chance of a -quarrel. "Mr. Hill went to London after he got the parcel." - -"On the same day?" asked the man eagerly. - -"Yes, sir. Jacobs, who drives him, told me he went within two hours -after he opened the parcel. He's gone up to attend a sale----" - -"Oh," sneered Signor Antonio, "so he's gone to attend a sale? Very -good, that's all right. The parcel was a notice about a sale----" - -"Of musical instruments, I know, sir. Jacobs told me." - -"You speak too much to Jacobs," cried Cain; "remember you're engaged -to marry me, Jane." - -"Stuff and nonsense," said Signor Antonio, who in spite of his Italian -name and looks did not speak his own language; "you'll not marry the -girl." - -"But I shall," said Cain, setting his teeth; "mind your own business." - -"This _is_ my business, you brat----" - -"Jane," said Cain pointing to the hotel, "yonder is Mrs. Whiffles -waving to you. Drive over. I'll send you my address, and you can -write to me. Good-bye, dear." - -He would have climbed on the cart and kissed her, but that the -so-called Italian drew him back. Jane, rather started and puzzled by -the dominion this stranger seemed to exercise over Cain, drove hastily -away to the curb where fat Mrs. Whiffles stood waving her fat arms. -She looked back to see Cain and Antonio in fierce conversation, and -dreaded a quarrel. - -And indeed there would have been a quarrel but for the boy's -self-possession. Cain appeared to have far more command of his -temper than the older man, and spoke quietly enough. "See here," he -said, "I won't have you interfering with my affairs." - -"Do you know who I am?" demanded Antonio again. - -"You asked me that before and in public," said Cain, "and I told you, -you were Signor Antonio. But you know well enough what you are and so -do I." - -"And what am I?" jeered Antonio. - -"You're the man that deserted his wife and child, and your name is -Giles Merry." - -"Yes, it is, and don't you talk of deserting, you brat. I'm your -father, so you look out. I'll thrash you." - -"Oh no, you won't," said Cain boldly, "I'm quite equal to standing up -to you, father. Leave my business alone, I've put up with you ever -since we met a year ago, and I did what you wanted because you -promised me not to go near my mother. I learn that you have written -that you intend to call on her." - -"What if I do? She's my wife as you're my son. She's got a house over -her head, and money, and I've got a right to share both." - -"No, you haven't," said Cain sharply, "you're no father of mine, as -you deserted me and mother when we were poor. Now that we've got -money, you'd come and make mother miserable. I kept my part of the -bargain, so you keep to yours. If you write mother again or go near -her, I'll make things hot." - -Antonio made a dash at the boy--they were now in a quiet side -street--and gasped with rage. "You unnatural young cuckoo----" - -"Leave me alone, father, or I'll sing out for the police." - -"What!" Antonio, finding force would not do, began to whine, "you'd -run in your poor old father?" - -"I don't want to," said Cain, "but if you force me to, I must. All I -ask is for you to keep away from mother, and leave me alone. If you -don't, I'll tell Wasp something he may like to hear." - -The older man turned pale through his swarthy skin. "What will you -tell him?" he asked in a thick voice. - -"Never you mind. But I know you saw Mr. Strode when he came to the -circus that night after Lord Saltars. Then there's Butsey----" - -"What about Butsey?" asked the father uneasily, and glaring. - -"Nothing. Only he's a bad lot. I'm no great shakes myself," -admitted Cain sadly, "but I'm beginning to see how wicked I am. If I -was as bad as Butsey, father, I'd not treat you like this. You sent -Butsey with a lying message to mother----" - -"I wanted to know how she looked." - -"No, you didn't. I believe you sent Butsey to steal that wooden hand." - -"It's a lie. I don't know who took it." - -"I believe Butsey did, though why you wanted it I don't know. And -what is there between you and Mr. Hill, father, seeing you sent him -that cross?" - -"That's my business," growled Antonio, finding his son knew too much -for him; "you hold your tongue." - -"I will, as long as you keep away from my mother." - -"Lord, I'll keep away," said Antonio good-humouredly. "I don't want to -live with her nagging and whimpering. You're her son, sure enough--a -young prig going against your lawful father." - -"Only for my mother's sake. And you want me to do wrong. I'm seeing -light, father, and I'm changing." - -"What do you mean by seeing light? You're always saying that." - -"I've been to the Salvation Army meetings," said Cain solemnly, "and I -see what a sinner I am." - -"Oh, you're going to turn parson, are you? Well, you can do what you -like, but hold your tongue about my business." - -"I'll do so. But tell me, father?" Cain looked anxiously into the -brutal face, "had you anything to do with that murder?" - -Antonio glared and looked like a devil. He made another dash at the -boy, but at that moment three or four men came round the corner, -and amongst them a policeman. At once Antonio burst out into a loud -laugh and took to his broken English. "Ver' goot, my leetle boy, -gif me the letter. I go to Mees Lorry. Ah, Dio!" - -Cain saw that he would not receive a reply to his terrible question -just then, so, glad to get away on the chance of having another talk -with Jane, he escaped. Hardly had he turned the corner when his -father was after him, and a deep voice breathed in his ear: - -"I had nothing to do with that," said Antonio anxiously; "I'm bad, -but not so bad as that. I don't know who killed the man. Go"--a push -sent the boy reeling--"and hold your tongue. I'll keep my part of the -bargain and leave your mother alone. Keep yours," and before Cain -could recover his breath Antonio was ringing the bell of Miss Lorry's -lodgings. - -That lady was just up and at breakfast. Antonio was shown into her -sitting-room, and found her drinking coffee. She saluted him with a -smile. "Well, Giles, what's brought you here at this hour?" - -"This letter from Stag," said Antonio, giving the note he had received -from Cain; "and don't call me Giles, Bell." - -"You seem very much afraid of people knowing you," she jeered, opening -the envelope, and running her eyes over the letter. "Stag wants me to -make another contract for the North." She threw down the note. "Well -then, I won't." - -"What are you going to do, then?" - -"Go to London and marry Lord Saltars." - -"He means business, then?" - -Miss Lorry rose, and looked as though she would slap Antonio's face. -"You hound," she hissed, "do you think I'd let any man play fast and -loose with me. Not a word," she added, seeing a grim smile on the -strong man's face. "I know what you would say. Leave the past alone, -or it will be the worse for you. And see here, what's become of that -boy Butsey?" - -"He's in London at Father Don's." - -"Poor little wretch. Being made into a devil such as you are. Then, -you send for him to come to Chelmsford. I want him to deliver a -letter, and the sooner it's delivered the better." - -"Can't I deliver it?" - -"No, you can't. I can trust Butsey. I can't trust you." - -"Who is the letter to?" - -"That's my business," flashed out Miss Lorry, returning to her -interrupted breakfast; "tell Stag I'll see him about the note at my -own time." - -"But, Bell, if you leave the show, how will you live?" - -"I've got money saved. You need not ask how much," she added, seeing -the cupidity flash into the man's eyes, "for I am not going to tell -you. I leave the show at the end of October, and then I remain in town -till I become Lady Saltars." - -"A nice bargain he'll get with you," growled Antonio. "I know you." - -"As we've been together in the circus for years, you ought to----" - -"I wasn't thinking of the circus, but of----" - -"Hold your tongue," she cried, rising again, "mind your own business." - -"You don't make it worth my while. Suppose I spoil your game with Lord -Saltars?" - -Miss Lorry's face became hard and her eyes glittered. "You dare to -interfere, and I'll send to that policeman at Wargrove to tell him I -saw you at Westhaven speaking to a pair of the biggest blackguards in -London." - -"And what will that do? I've got a right to speak to whom I choose." - -"You can for all I care," said Miss Lorry, sitting down once more, -"your business has nothing to do with me so long as you leave me -alone. Why don't you go home to your poor wife?" - -"My poor wife don't want me. And I wouldn't live with her for gold -untold, seeing how she nags and moans. My wife?" sneered the man -with an ugly look; "you're a nice one to talk of her." - -"I tell you what, Giles Merry," said Miss Lorry, with great -deliberation, "you'd better keep a civil tongue, or you'll have a bad -time. I'll horsewhip you before the company, strong man as you are." - -Antonio scowled. "You wouldn't dare." - -"Wouldn't I? You talk like that and you'll see. You always were a -brute and you always will be. I only hope," added Miss Lorry, -suddenly looking into his eyes, "that you aren't something -worse." - -Antonio met the look with great composure. "Meaning a murderer?" -he said. "Cain asked me if I did kill Strode." - -"And how do I know you didn't?" - -"Because I did not," cried the man, rising and looking fierce. - -"Well," said Miss Lorry, after a pause, "I daresay you didn't. But you -know who did." She looked at him searchingly. - -"I swear by all that's holy, I don't!" - -Miss Lorry laughed disagreeably. "Fancy Giles Merry talking of holy -things. Cain's worth a dozen of you." - -"The young fool! He's going to join the Salvationists!" - -"And a good job too," cried Miss Lorry, with a pleased look, "he may -convert you." - -"Let him try," said the affectionate father, "and I'll smash him." - -"Perhaps you'd rather Cain joined Father Don, and Red Jerry and Foxy. -Oh, I saw you talking to Jerry and Foxy at Westhaven. It's my belief," -added Miss Lorry, crushing her egg-shell, "that those two have -something to do with Strode's end." - -"Why don't you tell the police so?" - -"Because I've got my own fish to fry," retorted Miss Lorry, rising and -wiping her mouth; "but the presence of London thieves at Westhaven -when a gentleman was murdered and robbed, looks queer. If the police -knew they'd collar Jerry and Foxy and Father Don too. I fancy you -would be brought into the matter." - -"Look here," cried Antonio with an oath, "do you charge me, or any of -those three with murder?" - -"No, I don't. I only know that you were Strode's pal in the old days, -and that you did a lot of dirty work for him. You're in with a bad -lot, Giles, and will come to a bad end. I only wish I could rescue -that poor little brat of a Butsey from you, but the boy's past -reforming. I know nothing of him, save that he has an admiration for -me, and ran my errands, so that is why I want him to deliver this -letter. You'll try and learn who the letter is written to, Giles: but -you won't. I can trust Butsey. But why don't you turn honest, man, -and make money?" - -"How can I? Honest men don't make money. And I gain my living honestly -enough as a strong man with Stag." - -"Ah, that's a blind to cloak your real character. You're in with -Father Don's gang. Why not split on them?" Miss Lorry leaned forward -and spoke softly. "For instance, why not call on Mr. Strode's lawyer -and tell him Red Jerry came home from Africa about the same time that -Strode did?" - -"What good would that do?" - -"I can't say. Mask knows something, and I want that something told, so -that Miss Strode may marry Allen Hill, and be put out of my way, for -me to marry Saltars. He admires her, and I want her safely married, -beyond his reach. If you told about Red Jerry, Mask might be able to -get back Miss Strode's fortune." - -"What!"--Giles pricked up his ears--"Fortune?" - -"Forty thousand pounds, Giles, in diamonds, I fancy." - -Antonio sat down. "I never knew Strode was so rich," he said. "Why, -the liar told me at Brentwood that he'd made no money." - -"I don't wonder at that," said Miss Lorry; "he knew you'd blackmail him -if he confessed to having money." - -"I knew enough to make things hot for him," said Giles, biting his -large, square fingers, "but I never knew he was rich. Lord, forty -thousand pounds! If I'd known that----" - -"You'd have killed him to get it." - -"I don't say that," growled Giles, putting on his hat, "and as I didn't -kill him, there's no more to be said. Where's the money now?" - -Miss Lorry looked curiously at him. "You should know!" - -"What the blazes do you mean?" - -"Oh, if you don't know there's no more to be said. As Strode is dead, -you can't get the money now. Your blackmailing is of no value. Miss -Strode will get the diamonds and marry Mr. Allen Hill." - -"Hill?" said Giles thoughtfully; "does he take after that fool of a -father of his?" - -"No; he's a man and not a whimpering ass like Lawrence Hill." - -Giles stood musing at the door. "So Miss Strode will get the -diamonds?" he said; "blest if I don't see her, and----" - -Miss Lorry whirled round. "You leave her alone or I'll make things -unpleasant for you. The poor girl has sorrow enough, and she's a good -girl." - -"Keep your hair on, I'll do nothing--at present," added Antonio -significantly: and with an ironical bow he departed. - -Miss Lorry clutched her breast with a frown. "I'll write that letter -and send it by Butsey," she said determinedly. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -AN UNEXPECTED MEETING - - -Mr. Mask had a dark little office in the city down a long narrow -lane which led from Cheapside. In the building he inhabited were -many offices, mostly those of the legal profession, and Mr. Mask's -rooms were on the ground floor. He had only two. In the outer one -a clerk almost as old as Mr. Mask himself scribbled away in a slow -manner, and showed in clients to the inner room. This was a gloomy -little dungeon with one barred window looking out on to a blank -wall, damp and green with slime. Light was thrown into the room -through this window by means of a silvered glass, so the actual -illumination of the apartment was very small indeed, even in -summer. In winter the gas glared and flared all the day. - -Here Mr. Mask sat like a spider in his den, and the place was so -full of cobwebs that it really suggested spiders in plenty. There -was a rusty grate in which a fire was never lighted, an old -mahogany bookcase filled with uninviting-looking volumes, and a -tin wash-stand which was hidden behind a screen of shabby Indian -workmanship. The walls were piled to the dingy ceiling with black -japanned deed-boxes, with the names of various clients inscribed -on them in white letters. Before the window--and dirty enough the -glass of that was--stood a large mahogany table covered untidily -with papers, deeds, briefs, memoranda, and such-like legal -documents. A small clearing in front was occupied by red blotting -paper, and a large lead ink bottle with a tray of pens. There was -one chair for Mr. Mask and one for a client. Finally, as there was -no carpet on the floor it may be guessed that the office was not an -inviting-looking sanctum. Into this hole--as it might fitly be -termed--Allen was shown one morning. He had not called immediately -on Mr. Mask when he came to town, as he had been searching for his -father for the last five days. But all inquiries proved futile. -Allen went to the hotel at which Mr. Hill usually stayed, but could -not find him there. He had not been stopping in the place for -months. Allen sought the aid of the police, but they could not find -Mr. Hill. Finally he put an advertisement in the paper, which -remained unanswered. Also Allen had called on Mr. Hill's bankers, -but found that he had not been near the place. It was so strange -that Allen was beginning to feel afraid. The message conveyed in the -symbol sent through Cain must be a very serious one, to make his -father cut himself off from those who knew him, in this way. - -As a last resource, Allen came to see Mr. Mask, feeling he should -have done this before. Mask had a large business, but on the face of -it appeared to do very little in the dingy office. But he was a man -who could be trusted with a secret, and many people who knew this -intrusted him with affairs they wished kept quiet. Consequently -Mask's business was sometimes rather shady, but he made a great deal -of money by it, and that was all he cared about. - -A silent, cold man was Mask, and even in his own home at Bloomsbury -he was secretive. Still the man had his good points, and had an -undercurrent of good nature of which he was somewhat ashamed, heaven -only knows why. If he had been as hard as he looked, he certainly -would not have asked Mrs. Palmer to give poor Eva a home. - -"Well, Mr. Allen," said Mask, who called him thus to distinguish -him from his father, whom he had known many years, "so you have -come at last?" Allen, who was placing his hat on the floor, as -there was no table to put it on, started and stared. "Did you -expect me?" - -"Long ago," said Mask, putting his fingers together and leaning back -with crossed legs; "in fact, you should have come to me five days ago. -There was no necessity for you to consult the police as to your -father's whereabouts, or to call at his bank and hotel, or to put that -very injudicious advertisement into the paper." - -"You seem to know all about my doings?" - -"Quite so. I know a great many things. To be frank, Mr. Allen, I have -had you watched by a private detective, ever since you came to town." - -Allen rose in a towering rage. "How dare you do that, Mr. Mask?" - -"I did so at your father's request," said the lawyer, on whom the -young man's rage produced not the least effect. - -"You have seen him?" - -"I have. He came to me when he arrived." - -"Do you know where he is?" - -"I do--but I am not at liberty to tell you." - -"Do you know why he is acting in this way?" - -Mr. Mask's calm face suddenly wrinkled. "No," he said, looking -perplexed, "frankly, Mr. Allen, I don't, and I am glad you have -called. I wish to talk the matter over with you." - -"Why didn't you send for me, then?" - -"Because it is never my wish to take the initiative. People come to -me. I don't go to them. I get a lot of business by waiting, Mr. -Allen. People are only too glad to find a man who can keep a secret; -I have made a fine business out of nothing, simply by holding my -tongue." - -"And do you intend to do so in this instance?" - -Mask shrugged his spare shoulders. "That depends. Johnstone!" - -He raised his voice rather, and the door opened to admit a small -clerk with a large red beard and a bald head, and a face lined with -wrinkles. What his age was no one could tell, and he said as little -as he could, being as secretive as his master. Without a word he -stood at the door, seen dimly in the half light of the office, for -the day was dark. "Johnstone," said Mr. Mask. "I'll be engaged with -this gentleman for some time. Let no one in, till I call again." - -Johnstone bowed and departed without a word, while Mr. Mask went on in -a smooth tone, "I sit in this office from ten in the morning till six -at night. Johnstone comes at nine and leaves at four." - -"Why before you?" asked Allen, wondering why this information was -supplied. - -"Because I like the office to myself to see nervous clients. The -lawyers in the other offices of the building do not stay late, and -frequently I am perfectly alone with clients who wish their business -kept so secret that they don't want even to be seen entering this -place." - -"Are you not afraid?" - -Mr. Mask shrugged his shoulders again. "No. Why should I be?" - -"Some rough client might do you some harm." - -"Oh, I don't think so. Any one who comes here finds it to his -interest to conciliate me, not to threaten. But I confess that I was -rather startled the other night." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I'll come to the story in time. Because I intend to tell it, I drew -your attention to my hours. Well, Mr. Allen," Mask leaned back again, -"and what can I do for you?" - -"Tell me where my father is." - -"I can't do that. I have not your father's permission to do so." - -"How long will he be away?" - -"Until I can induce him to return," said Mask blandly. - -Allen leaned forward, and looked the lawyer in the eyes. "Is my -father afraid of being arrested?" - -Mask started. "No. Why do you say that?" - -"Because--but before I tell you, may I ask his reason for staying -away?" - -Mask looked perplexed again. "I can't exactly tell you," he said. "I -may as well be frank, Mr. Allen, as I don't like the situation. Your -father, whom I have known all his life, came to me over a week ago -in great agitation. He said that he was in danger, but what the -danger was, he refused to confess. I insisted on an explanation, and -he promised to tell me some day. Meantime he wanted to be hidden away -for the time being. I arranged that for him." - -"I don't think that was wise of you, Mr. Mask." - -"My good Allen--I can call you so as I've known you since you were a -lad--there is no reason why I should not help your father. He may -have done something against the law, for all I know, but as he is my -client, it is my duty to help him. He is a good client to me, and I -am not such a fool as to lose him. It is my business to keep secrets, -and here is one I have not found out. But I don't intend to let your -father go away till I _do_ find out," said Mask grimly. "On that -condition I helped him. And after all," added the lawyer, "your -father is quite in his sane senses, and I have no right to dictate to -him, even when he acts in so eccentric a manner." - -"He is always eccentric," said the son wearily; "but this behaviour is -beyond a joke. How is my mother to live?" - -"I can't send her money. Your father will see to that." - -"But why am I shut out from my father's confidence?" - -"I can't say. Remember," said Mask in a slightly irritable tone, "I am -shut out also." - -Allen, much perplexed over the situation which was sufficiently -annoying and mysterious, thought for a moment. "Did my father tell -you of the cardboard box he received?" - -"He did not. He said nothing, save that he wished to hide for a -time, and would reveal his reason later." - -"Then I must tell you everything I know," said Allen in -desperation. "If my father won't trust you, I must. My mother is -in a great state of alarm, and for her sake I must get him to come -back." - -Mr. Mask looked doubtful. "I don't know whether he'll hear reason," he -said, after a pause. "However, what you tell me will go no further." - -"Well then, Mr. Mask, I know why my father is afraid." - -"It's more than I do. Why is he afraid?" - -"Because he thinks he may be arrested for the murder of Strode." - -Mask pushed back his chair and rose quickly. It was not an easy matter -to astonish a man, who, in that very room, had heard tales worthy of -the _Arabian Nights_, but Allen had certainly managed to do so. "Do you -mean to say he killed Strode?" he asked. - -"No. But he thinks he did." - -"How can that be?" - -Allen related the episode of the pistol, and how he found that the -bullet which killed Strode would not fit the barrel. "So you see my -father thought he had killed him, and when this cross was sent----" - -"What cross?" asked Mask, looking up quickly. - -"I forgot. I thought you knew." And Allen related everything in -detail. Mask heard the story with his chin on his hand, and in -silence. Even when in full possession of the facts he did not speak. -Allen grew impatient. "What do you think?" - -Mask moved a few papers hither and thither, but did not look straight -at his visitor. "It's a mystery," he said. "I know not what to say. -But I am perfectly sure of one thing," he added with emphasis, "that -your father never shot Strode----" - -"I said so. The bullet that went through the heart did not fit the -barrel of my revolver." - -"You misunderstand me. I don't even believe that your father fired the -shot which ripped the flesh of the arm. Why, Strode was his best -friend and he was devoted to him." - -"My father to Strode, or Strode to my father?" - -"Both ways you can take it. Why, it was Strode brought about the -marriage between your parents." - -"My mother told me how the marriage came about," said Allen quickly, -"but I understood that my father acted from a chivalrous motive." - -Mask's lip curled. "I fear not," he said, "there were circumstances -connected with your mother----" - -Allen shifted himself uneasily and grew red. "I know--I know," he said -sharply, "my mother told me about the necklace. Surely you did not -believe her guilty, Mr. Mask?" - -"No," said the lawyer emphatically, "I certainly did not. I can't say -who stole the necklace, but it was lost and the thief has never been -found. As to the marriage"--he waved his hand--"Strode brought it -about--at least he told me so. How he managed I can't say, unless it -was that he used his influence over your father." - -"My mother believes----" - -"I know. All the more credit to her. But we can discuss this on some -more fitting occasion. Meantime we must talk of your father. I don't -see why you shouldn't see him," said Mask musingly. - -"Give me his address." - -"Humph," said the lawyer, smiling slightly. "I'll see. But about -this murder? Your father did not kill the man." - -"No," said Allen sharply, "I swear he did not." - -"Quite so. Well, who did, and what was the motive?" - -"Robbery was the motive," said Allen, taking a letter out of his -pocket. "Read this, I received it from Miss Strode." - -Mask took the letter, but did not read it immediately. "I don't -believe the motive was robbery," he declared deliberately; "Strode had -little money. He certainly brought a hundred or so from Africa and I -cashed his letters of credit." - -"Did you give him the money in notes?" - -"Yes; and what is more I have the numbers of the notes. I see what -you mean: you fancy the notes were stolen and that the criminal can -thus be traced." - -"Read the letter," said Allen impatiently. - -The lawyer did so, and thus became possessed of a faithful report of -Saltars' communications to Eva which she had detailed for Allen's -benefit. On ending he placed the letter on the table. "A blue -pocket-book," said Mask musingly. "Yes, he had such a one. I -remember he placed the notes in it. I wonder I didn't ask about that -at the inquest. It's stolen. Humph! Looks like a commonplace robbery -after all. Allen," he raised his eyes, "I gave Strode two hundred in -ten pound Bank of England notes. As I have the numbers, I may be -able to trace how much of this sum has been spent by inquiring at -the Bank. The numbers that are missing will be those that Strode had -in the blue pocket-book when he went on that fatal journey to -Westhaven. If the murderer stole the book and has cashed the notes -he may be traced by the numbers." - -"I agree. But what about the forty thousand pounds?" - -Mask shook his head. "I can't say. Strode certainly never mentioned -to me that he had such a sum." - -"Did he say he had diamonds?" - -"No. Perhaps, as Miss Strode suggests, the forty thousand pounds may -have been locked up in diamonds as a portable way to carry such a sum. -But we found no diamonds amongst his effects, so it is probable he -carried them on his person." - -"And was murdered for the sake of them?" - -"Perhaps. It was strange, though, that Strode should have spoken to me -about his wooden hand. He promised that he would return from Wargrove -to place a large sum of money in my hands--probably the forty thousand -pounds, though he did not mention the amount." - -"I dare say he intended to turn the diamonds into money and then give -it to you." - -"Perhaps," said Mask carelessly, "but we are not yet sure if the -money was in diamonds. However, Strode said, that when he wanted the -promised money, he would get it from me personally, and, if he did -not apply in person, he would send the wooden hand. As he certainly -would not have let the hand be taken from him while alive, it was a -very safe token to send." - -Allen looked down. "It seems as though he was afraid of being -killed," he said musingly; "and he was killed, and the wooden hand -was stolen." - -"Not only that," said Mask, "but it was brought to me." - -"What!" Allen started to his feet, "here! Why didn't you have the -man who brought it arrested?" - -"Because I could not," said Mask drily; "this is why I told you -of my habits. It was after four when Johnstone and every one in -the place was away. In fact, it was nearly six, and when I was -getting ready to go, that this man came." - -"What kind of a man was he?" - -"A venerable old man, who looked like the Wandering Jew, with a -long white beard, and a benevolent face. He asked if he could -speak to me, and we talked. I must remind you that every one in -this building is away at the hour of six." - -"I understand. But what was the old man's name?" - -"He gave none. He simply asked if I had a sum of money in my -possession belonging to Mr. Strode. I said I had not; so he asked -if Mr. Strode had left a packet of diamonds with me." - -"Then there _are_ diamonds!" cried Allen; "and you knew?" - -"Now you mention it, I did know," said Mask coolly; "all in good -time, Allen. I wished to learn how much you knew before I spoke -out. I am a man who keeps secrets, mind you, and I don't say more -than is needful. Well, this old man, when I said that I had no -diamonds, told me in so many words that I was a liar, and -insisted that I should give them up. To test him, I jokingly -asked him if he had the wooden hand, which was to be the token to -deliver the money or diamonds. He then produced the article." - -"Why didn't you arrest him?" - -"Let me remind you that I was alone with the Wandering Jew, and that -he brought two men of whom I caught a glimpse. They remained in the -outer room during our conversation. I asked the old man how he -became possessed of the wooden hand. He refused to tell me, but -insisted that I should hand over the diamonds. I protested that I -had none, and told him what I tell you, as to what Strode said about -giving me money later." - -"What did the old man say then?" - -"He began to believe me, and muttered something about the diamonds -being in Strode's possession. Then he sang out, 'No go, Jerry,' to a -red-headed ruffian outside. After that, he left." - -"You should have followed, Mr. Mask, and have had him arrested." - -"I could scarcely do that," said the lawyer drily, "the old -gentleman was too clever. He went with one man, and left the -red-headed Jerry to keep watch. I had to remain in this room till -seven, or else Jerry threatened to shoot me." - -"He would never have dared." - -"Oh yes, he would, and in this lonely building no one could have -stopped him. Well I agreed, and remained in here doing some work. At -seven I opened the outer door. Jerry had decamped, but where he and -his friends went I can't say?" - -"Have you told the police?" - -"No. I think it is wiser to remain quiet. These men will try again -to get the money through the wooden hand; but they must first learn -who killed Strode, and stole the diamonds--for I now agree with you, -Allen, that the forty thousand pounds are locked up in diamonds. But -now we have talked on this point and it seems clear, let us talk on -another in the presence of a third person." - -"Who?" asked Allen anxiously. - -"Your father," said Mask. "Johnstone!" - -The red-bearded clerk entered, and when within, removed a false beard -and a wig. - -"Father," cried Allen, rising. It was indeed Mr. Hill, pale and -trembling. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MR. HILL'S STORY - - -Allen was so thunderstruck at the sight of his father, who had so -unexpectedly appeared, that he could only stand silently staring. -Mr. Hill gave a nervous titter, and tried to appear at his ease. -But the sight of his pale face and trembling limbs shewed that the -man was possessed by terror. Also he locked the door while Allen -gaped. It was Mask who spoke first. - -"You are surprised to find your father as my clerk," he said -smoothly to Allen; "but when he came to me asking to be concealed, I -arranged that Johnstone should take a much-needed holiday at the -sea-side. I believe he is at Brighton," said Mr. Mask deliberately. -"In the meantime, your father, by means of a clever disguise, -adopted Johnstone's name, and personality, and looks. In the dim -light of the office every one thinks he is Johnstone, and to tell -you the truth," said Mr. Mask, smiling, "my clients are so possessed -by their own fears, that they take very little notice of my clerk." - -Allen scarcely listened to the half of this explanation. "Father," he -cried, "whatever is the meaning of all this?" - -Hill tittered again, and looked about for a seat as his limbs -would hardly support him. As Mr. Mask had one chair, and Allen the -other, it looked as though Hill would have to sink on the floor. But -Allen pushed forward his own chair and made his father sit down. -Then, so white was the man, that he produced his flask, and gave him -a nip of brandy. "I never travel without this," said Allen, alluding -to the flask. "It comes in handy at times," and he spoke this -irrelevantly so as to put Hill at his ease. - -The little man, under the grotesque mask of Johnstone, grew braver -after the brandy, with Dutch courage. "You did not expect to find me -here, Allen?" he said, with his nervous titter. - -"I certainly did not," said his son bitterly; "and I don't know why -you need disguise yourself in this way. I know you did not murder -Strode." - -"But I intended to," cried Hill, suddenly snarling, and showing his -teeth, "the black-hearted villain." - -"I thought Strode was your friend, father?" - -"He was my enemy--he was my evil genius--he was a tyrant who tried -to crush all the spirit out of me. Oh," Hill beat his fist on the -table in impotent rage, "I'm glad he's dead. But I wish he'd died -by torture--I wish he'd been burnt--sliced to atoms. I wish----" - -"Stop," said Mask, seeing Allen turn white and faint, at the sight -of this degrading spectacle, "there's no need to speak like this, -Lawrence. Tell us how you came to be at the Red Deeps." - -"How do you know I was at the Red Deeps?" asked Hill, shivering, and -with the sudden rage dying out of him. - -"Well, you took your son's revolver, and----" - -"You said you didn't believe I fired the shot, Mask," cried the -miserable creature. "I heard you say so, I had my ear to the -keyhole all the time---- - -"Father--father," said Allen, sick with disgust at the sight of his -parent behaving in this way. - -"And why not?" cried Hill, turning fiercely on him. "I am in danger. -Haven't I the right to take all measures I can for my own safety? I -_did_ listen, I tell you, and I overheard all. Had you not proved to -Mask here, that the bullet which caused the death could not have been -fired out of your revolver, I'd not have come in. I should have run -away. But you know I am innocent----" - -"Quite so," said Mask, looking searchingly at the speaker, "therefore -the reason for your disguise is at an end." - -Hill passed his tongue over his dry lips and crouched again. "No, -it isn't," he said faintly, "there's something else." - -"In heaven's name, what is it?" asked Allen. - -"Leave me alone," snarled his father, shrinking back in his chair and -looking apprehensively at his tall, white-faced son, "it's got nothing -to do with you." - -"It has everything to do with me," said his son with calm firmness, -"for my mother's sake I intend to have an explanation." - -"If my wife were here she would never let you treat me in this way, -Allen," whimpered the miserable father. "Sarah"--he did not call his -wife Saccharissa now, the situation being too serious--"Sarah is -always kind to me." - -Allen with folded arms leaned against the bookcase and looked at his -father with deep pity in his eyes. Hill was alternately whimpering and -threatening: at one moment he would show a sort of despairing courage, -and the next would wince like a child fearful of a blow. The young man -never loved his father, who, taken up with himself and his whims, had -done nothing to make the boy love him. He had never respected the man, -and only out of regard for his mother had he refrained from taking -strong measures to curb the pronounced eccentricities of Hill. But the -man, miserable coward as he seemed, was still his father, and it -behoved him to deal with him as gently as possible. In his own mind, -Allen decided that his father's troubles--whatever they were--had -driven him insane. But the sight of that cringing, crawling figure -begot a mixture of pity and loathing--loathing that a human creature -should fall so low, and pity that his own father should suddenly -become a 'thing' instead of a man. - -"I want to be kind to you, father," he said after a pause; "who will -you trust if not your own son?" - -"You were never a son to me," muttered Hill. - -"Was that my fault?" asked Allen strongly. "I would have been a son to -you, if you had let me. But you know, father, how you kept me at -arm's length--you know how you ruled the house according to your -whims and fancies, and scorned both my mother and myself. Often you -have spoken to her in such a manner that it was only the knowledge -that you are my father which made me refrain from interfering. My -mother says she owes much to you----" - -"So she does--so she does." - -"Then why take advantage of her gratitude? She gives everything to -you, father, and you treat her in a way--faugh," Allen swept the air -with his arm, as though to banish the subject. "Let us say no more on -that point. But I have come up here to get to the bottom of this -affair, father, and I don't leave this place till I know all." - -Hill tried to straighten himself. "You forget I am your father," he -said, with an attempt at dignity. - -"No; I do not forget. Because you are my father I wish to help you -out of this trouble, whatever it is. I can save you from being -accused of Strode's murder, but the other thing----" - -"I never said there was anything else," said Hill quickly. - -"Yes, you did, Lawrence," said Mask. "I have taken a note of it." - -"Oh," whimpered Hill, "if you turn against me too---" - -"Neither one of us intend to turn against you," said Allen in deep -disgust, for the man was more like a jelly-fish than ever, and -constantly evaded all attempts to bring him to the point. "For -heaven's sake, father, summon up your manhood and let us know the -worst!" - -"I won't be spoken to in this way," stuttered Hill, growing red. - -Allen made one stride forward, and looked down from his tall height -at the crouching figure in the chair--the figure in its shameful -disguise, with the white face and wild eyes. "You shall be spoken to -in a perfectly quiet way," he said calmly, although inwardly -agitated, "but you shall do what you are told. I have put up with -this state of things long enough. In future, my mother shall govern -the house, and you shall come back to it to indulge in whatever whims -you like within reason. But master you shall not be." - -"Who will prevent me?" said Hill, trying to bluster. - -"I shall," said Allen decisively; "you are not fit to manage your -own affairs or to rule a house. If you come back--as you shall--my -mother, who loves you, will do all she can to make you happy. I -also, as your son, will give you all respect due to a father." - -"You're doing so now, I think," sneered Hill, very white. - -"God help me, what else can I do?" cried Allen, restraining himself -by a violent effort; "if you could see yourself you would know what it -costs me to speak to you like this. But, for your own sake, for my -mother's sake, for my own, I must take the upper hand." - -Hill leaped panting from his seat. "You dare!----" - -"Sit down," said his son imperiously, and pushed him back in his -chair; "yes, I dare, father. As you are not responsible, I shall -deal with you as I think is for your good. I know how to deal with -men," said Allen, looking very tall and very strong, "and so I shall -deal with you." - -"You forget," panted Hill, with dry lips, "I have the money." - -"I forget nothing. I shall have a commission of lunacy taken out -against you and the money matters shall be arranged----" - -"Oh," Hill burst into tears, and turned to the quiet, observant -Mask, "can you sit and hear all this?" - -"I think your son is right, Lawrence." - -"I shall go to law," cried Hill fiercely. - -"Can a man in hiding go to law?" hinted Mask significantly. - -The miserable man sank back in his seat and wept. Sick at heart, -Allen looked at the old lawyer. "You are my father's friend, sir," -he said gently, "try and bring him to reason. As for me, I must walk -for a time in the outer room to recover myself. I can't bear the -sight of those tears. My father--oh, God help me, my father!" and -Allen, unlocking the door, walked into the outer room sick at -heart. He was not a man given to melodrama, but the sight of his -wretched father made him sick and faint. He sat down in the clerk's -chair to recover himself, and leaned his aching head on his hand. - -What passed between Mask and Hill he never knew, but after half an -hour the old lawyer called Allen in. Hill had dried his tears, and -was still sitting hunched up in the chair. But he was calmer, and -took the words which Mask would have spoken out of the lawyer's -mouth. "I am much worried, Allen," said he softly, "so you must -excuse my being somewhat unstrung. If you think it wise, I'll go -back." - -"So far as I know, I do think it wise." - -"Let us hear the story first," said Mask. - -"What story?" asked Allen sharply. - -"My miserable story," said Hill; "I'll tell it all. You may be -able to help me. And I need help," he ended piteously. - -"You shall have all help, father. Tell me why you went to the Red -Deeps and took my revolver." - -Hill did not answer at once. His eyelids drooped, and he looked -cunningly and doubtfully at his son. Apparently he did not trust him -altogether, and was thinking as to what he would say, and what leave -unsaid. The two men did not speak, and after a pause, Hill, now more -composed, began to speak slowly: - -"I have known Strode all my life, and he always treated me badly. As a -boy I lived near his father's place at Wargrove, and my father liked -me to associate with him, as he was of better birth than I. We studied -at the same school and the same college, and, when we went into the -world, Strode's influence introduced me into aristocratic circles. But -my own talents aided me also," said Hill, with open vanity, "I can do -everything and amuse any one. When I stopped at Lord Ipsen's----" - -"My mother told me of that," said Allen with a gesture of repugnance, -"and I don't want to hear the story again." - -"I'm not going to tell it," retorted his father tartly, "my idea was -to explain a popularity you will never attain to, Allen. However, I'll -pass that over. I married your mother, and Strode married Lady Jane -Delham, with whom I also was in love--and I would have made her a much -better husband than Strode," said the little man plaintively. - -"Go on, please," said Mask, glancing at his watch. "There isn't much -time. I have to go out to luncheon." - -"Always thinking of yourself, Mask," sneered Hill, "you always -did, you know. Well, I saw little of Strode for some time. Then I -lent him money and saw less of him than ever. Then he----" - -"You told me all this before," interposed Allen, who began to think -his father was merely playing with him. - -"I'll come to the point presently," said Hill with great dignity; -"let me say, Allen, that although I hated Strode, and had good cause -too--yes, very good cause--I liked Eva. When you wished to marry -her, I was pleased. She wrote to her father about the marriage. He -sent her a cablegram saying he was coming home----" - -"And when he did arrive at Southampton he told her she was not to -think of the marriage." - -"He told me also," said Hill, "and long before. He wrote from the Cape -telling me he would not allow you to marry Eva." - -"Allow me!" said Allen indignantly. - -"Yes, and told me I was to stop the marriage. I wrote, and urged the -advisability of the match. When Strode reached Southampton, he wrote -again saying he intended Eva to marry Lord Saltars---" - -"Did he make any mention of money?" - -"No. He simply said that if I did not stop the marriage he would -disgrace me," here Hill changed colour, and looked furtively at both -his listeners. - -"How disgrace you?" asked Mask sharply. - -"I shan't tell you that," was the dogged reply, "all you need know -is, that Strode could disgrace me. I--I--made a mistake when I was -a young man," said Hill, casting down his eyes, so as not to meet -the honest gaze of his son, "and Strode took advantage of it. He -made me sign a document confessing what I had done----" - -"And what in heaven's name had you done?" questioned Allen, much -troubled. - -"That's my business. I shan't say--it has nothing to do with you," -said Hill hurriedly, "but Strode had the document and always carried -it about with him. I wanted to get it and destroy it, so I asked him -when he came to Wargrove to meet me at the Red Deeps, and then I -would tell him how the marriage with you could be prevented. I also -said that I knew something about Lord Saltars----" - -"What is that?" - -"Nothing," said Hill, this time frankly. "I really knew nothing, but I -wanted Strode to come to the Red Deeps. He made an appointment to meet -me there on Wednesday at nine." - -"In that case, why did he wire to Eva he would be down on Thursday?" - -"Because he wanted to come down quietly to see me. And," added Hill -hesitating, "he had to see some one else. I don't know who, but he -hinted that he had to see some one." - -"When you spoke to him at the Red Deeps?" - -"Yes. I went there on Wednesday and he was waiting. It was getting -dark, but we saw plainly enough. I urged him to give up the -document. He refused, and told me that he required more money. I -grew angry and left him." - -"Alive?" - -"Yes. But I had your revolver with me, Allen. I took it with the -idea of shooting Strode, if he didn't give up the document----" - -"Oh," cried Allen, shrinking back. It seemed horrible to hear his -father talk like this. "But you didn't----" - -"No. I got behind a bush and fired. My shot touched his arm, for -he clapped his hand to the wound. Then he turned with a volley of -abuse to run after me. At that moment there came another shot from a -clump of trees near me, and Strode fell face downward. I was so afraid -at the idea of any one having been near me, and of having overheard -our conversation----" - -"And of seeing your attempt at murder," interpolated Mask. - -"Yes--yes--that I dropped Allen's revolver and ran away." - -"I found the revolver and took it home," said Allen; "so the way -you acted the next morning when Wasp came was----" - -"It was the morning after that," said his father drily, "on -Friday, and Strode was shot on Wednesday. I never went near the -Red Deeps again. I didn't know if Strode was dead, but I knew -that he had been shot. I steeled myself to bear the worst, but -did not make any inquiries out of policy. When Wasp came that -morning at breakfast, I knew what he had to say. Strode was dead. -I dreaded lest Wasp should say that the revolver had been found, -in which case you might have got into trouble, Allen: but I was -thankful nothing was said of it." - -The young man was astounded at this cool speech: but he passed it -over, as it was useless to be angry with such a man. "I picked up -the revolver as I said," he replied; "but about the document?" - -"I hadn't time to get it. The shot frightened me." - -"Did you see who fired the shot?" - -"No. I was too afraid. I simply ran away and never looked back." - -At this point Mask held up his hand. "I hear some one in the outer -office," he said, and rose to open the door. Hill slipped behind -the table quivering with fear. However, Mask returned to his seat. -"I am wrong," he said, "there's no one there. Go on." - -"What else do you want to know?" questioned Hill irritably. - -"Why you fainted and left the house, when you got that cross from -Giles Merry?" - -Hill stared. "You knew it was Giles?" he stammered; "what do you know -of Giles?" - -"Nothing. But Mrs. Merry recognised the direction on the brown -paper as being in her husband's writing. Why did you faint?" - -Hill looked down and then looked up defiantly. He was still -standing behind the desk. "I stole the wooden hand!" - -"What!" cried Mask and Allen, both rising. - -"Yes. I had my reasons for doing so. I took it from the body, when -I was in the death-chamber. I had it in my pocket when I saw you -and Eva, and said it was stolen. And then," went on Mr. Hill very -fast, so that Allen should not give expression to the horror which -was on his face, "I took it home. But I feared lest my wife should -find it and then I would get into trouble. Sarah was always looking -into my private affairs," he whined, "so to stop that, I went and -buried the hand on the common. Some one must have watched me, for I -put that cross to mark the spot. When I opened the parcel and saw -the cross I knew some one must have dug up the wooden hand and that -my secret----" - -"What has the wooden hand to do with your secret?" - -Hill shuffled, but did not reply to the question. "It was Giles's -writing. I knew he'd got the wooden hand, and my secret--Hark!" -There was certainly the sound of retreating footsteps in the other -room. Allen flung open the door, while his father cowered behind the -desk. The outer door was closing. Allen leaped for it: but the -person had turned the key in the lock. They heard a laugh, and then -retreating footsteps. Mask, who had followed Allen, saw something -white on the floor. He picked it up. It was a letter addressed to -Sebastian Mask. Opening this he returned to the inner office. "Let -us look at this first," said Mask, and recalled Allen: then he read -what was in the envelope. It consisted of one line. "Open the wooden -hand," said the mysterious epistle. - -"No," shrieked Hill, dropping on his knees; "my secret will be found -out!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A FRIEND IN NEED - - -Allen was stopping in quiet rooms near Woburn Square, which was -cheaper than boarding at a hotel. He was none too well off, as his -father allowed him nothing. Still, Allen had made sufficient money -to live fairly comfortable, and had not spent much, since his -arrival in England, owing to his residence at "The Arabian Nights." - -It had been Allen's intention to escort his father back to Wargrove, -whither Hill consented to go. But, on explaining to Mask his desire -to trace out Butsey by using the address of the Fresh Air People in -Whitechapel, Mask had agreed to take the old man home himself. He -thought that it was just as well Allen should find the boy, who might -know much. - -"He didn't steal the wooden hand," said Mask, when he parted from -Allen, "but he is evidently in with the gang." - -"What gang, Mr. Mask?" - -"That headed by the old gentleman who called on me. Jerry is one of -the gang, and this boy Butsey another. He sent that telegram, -remember. If you can find the lad you may learn much, and perhaps may -get back the hand." - -"But what good will that do?" asked Allen, puzzled; "from what my -father said when you read the anonymous letter, he evidently knew that -the hand can be opened. If, as he says, it contains his secret, he -must have opened it himself when he took it home, and before he buried -it." - -Mask wrinkled his brows and shook his head. "I confess that I -cannot understand," he remarked hopelessly, "nor will I, until -your father is more frank with me. This is one reason why I am -taking him myself to Wargrove. When I get him there I may induce -him to tell me his secret." - -"It must be a very serious secret to make him behave as he does." - -Mask sighed. "I repeat that I can't understand. I have known your -father all his life. We were boys together, and I also knew Strode. -But although your father was always foolish, I can't think that he -would do anything likely to bring him within reach of the law." - -"He stole the wooden hand, at all events," said Allen grimly. - -"Out of sheer terror, I believe, and that makes me think that his -secret, for the preservation of which he robbed the dead, is more -serious than we think. However I'll see what I can learn, and failing -your father, I shall ask Giles Merry." - -"Do you think he knows?" - -"I fancy so. The parcel with the cross was addressed in his writing, -so it is he who has the hand. He must have given it to the old -scoundrel who called on me, so I think, Mr. Allen, we are justified -in adding Merry to the gang." - -"But the hand must have been empty when my father buried it on the -common, so how could Giles know his secret?" - -"I can only say that I don't understand," said Mask with a gesture -of hopelessness; "wait till I get your father to speak out. Then we -may learn the truth." - -"I dread to hear it," said the son gloomily. - -"Well," replied Mask in a comforting tone, "at all events we know -it has nothing to do with this murder. It is your task to learn -who committed that, and you may do so through Butsey." - -After this conversation Mr. Mask took Hill back to Wargrove, -whither the old man went willingly enough. He seemed to think -himself absolutely safe, when in the company of his legal adviser -and old friend. Allen returned to his rooms, and sent a message to -Mr. Horace Parkins that he would see him that afternoon. It was -necessary that he should keep faith with his friend Mark Parkins in -South America, and find a capitalist; and Allen thought that -Horace, whom Mark reported shrewd, might know of some South African -millionaire likely to float the mine in Bolivia. As to the search -after Butsey, Allen had not quite made up his mind. He could learn -of Butsey's whereabouts certainly, but if it was some low den where -the lad lived, he did not want to go alone, and thought it might be -necessary to enlist the service of a detective. For his father's -sake, Allen did not wish to do so. But he must have some one to go -with him into the depths of London slums, that was certain. Allen -knew the life of the Naked Lands, and there could more than hold -his own, but he was ignorant of the more terrible life of the -submerged tenth's dens. - -It was at three o'clock that Allen appointed the meeting with -Parkins, and at that hour precisely a cab drove up. In a few -minutes Parkins was shown in by the landlady, and proved to be a -giant of over six feet, lean, bright-eyed, and speaking with a -decided American accent. He was smartly dressed in a Bond Street -kit, but looked rather out of place in a frock-coat and silk hat -and patent leather boots. - -"Well, I'm glad to see you," said the giant, shaking hands with a -grip which made Allen wince--and he was no weakling. "Mark's been -firing in letters about what a good sort you are, and I was just -crazy to meet you. It isn't easy finding a pal in this rotten -planet of ours, Mr. Hill, but I guess from what Mark says, you fill -the bill, so far as he's concerned, and I hope you'll cotton on to -me, for I'm dog-sick with loneliness in this old city." - -Allen laughed at this long speech and placed a chair for his -visitor. "You'd like a drink, I know," he said, ringing the bell. - -"Milk only," said Parkins, hitching up the knees of his trousers, -and casting his mighty bulk into the deep chair; "I don't hold with -wine, or whisky, or tea, or coffee, or anything of that sort. My -nerves are my own, I guess, and all I've got to hang on to, for -the making of bargains. I'm not going to play Sally-in-our-Alley -with them. No, sir, I guess not. Give me the cow's brew." - -So a glass of milk was brought, and Mr. Parkins was made happy. -"I suppose you don't smoke, then?" said Allen, amused. - -"You bet--a pipe." He produced a short clay and filled it. "I'm of -the opinion of that old chap in _Westward Ho_, if you know the -book?" - -"I haven't read it for years." - -"Y'ought to. I read it every year, same as I do my Bible. Had I my -way, sir," he emphasised with his pipe, "I'd give every English boy -a copy of that glorious book to show him what a man should be." - -"You're English, I believe, Mr. Parkins?" - -"Born, but not bred so. Fact is, my mother and father didn't go -well in double harness, so mother stopped at home with Mark, and -I lighted out Westward-ho with father. You'd never take me for -Mark's brother?" - -"I should think not. You're a big man and he's small: you talk -with a Yankee accent, and he speaks pure English. He's----" - -"Different to me in every way. That's a fact. I'm a naturalised -citizen of the U.S.A. and Mark's a Britisher. We've met only once, -twice, and again, Mr. Hill, but get on very well. There's only two -of us alive of the Parkins gang, so I guess we'd best be friendly, -till we marry and rear the next generation. I'm going to hitch up -with an English girl, and Mark--if I can persuade him--will marry -an American dollar heiress. Yes, sir, we'll square accounts with -the motherland that way." - -All the time Parkins talked, he pulled at his pipe, and enveloped -himself in a cloud of smoke. But his keen blue eyes were constantly -on Allen's face, and finally he stretched out a huge hand. "I guess -I've taken to you, some," said he, "catch on, and we'll be friends." - -"Oh," said Allen, grasping the hand, "I'm sure we shall. I like -Mark." - -"Well then, just you like the American side of him, which is -Horace Parkins. I guess we'll drop the misters and get to -business, Hill." - -"I'm ready. What do you want to see me about?" - -"Well, Mark wrote to me as you'd got a mine of sorts, and wanted a -capitalist. I'm not a millionaire, but I can shell out a few dollars, -if y'think you can get the property cheap." - -"Oh, I think so. The Spaniard that owns it wants money and isn't very -sure of its value." - -"Tell me about that right along." - -Whereupon Hill detailed the story of the Indian and how the mine had -been worked by the Inca kings. He described the locality and the -chances of getting the silver to the coast: also spoke of the labour -required and the number of shares he and Mark intended to divide the -mine into. Horace listened, nodding gravely. - -"I see you've figured it out all right, Hill," said Parkins, "and I -guess I'll take a hand in the game. Give me a share and I'll engineer -the buying." - -"Good," said Allan, delighted, "we'll divide the mine into three equal -shares. You buy it, and Mark and I will work it." - -"Good enough. We won't want any one else to chip in. It's a deal." - -They shook hands on this, and then had a long talk about the West -Indies, which Horace, who had never been there, knew chiefly through -the glowing pages of _Westward Ho_. "Though I guess the place has -changed since then," said he, "but the gold and silver's there right -enough, and maybe, if we looked long enough, we'd chance on that -golden Manoa Kingsley talks about." - -The talk drifted into more immediate topics, and Allen, much amused at -his gigantic companion's naïve ways of looking at things, asked him -about his life. Thereupon Horace launched out into a wild tale of -doings in Africa. He had been all through the war and had fought -therein. He had been up the Shire River, and all over the lion -country. He made money and lost it, so he said, and finally -managed to find a fortune. It was five o'clock before he ended, -and later he made a remark which made Allen jump: "So I just -thought when I got Mark's letter telling me you were in the old -country and about the mine, that I'd come home and see what kind -of man you were. I'm satisfied--oh yes, you bet. I'll trust you to -the death, for I size up folk uncommon quick, and you?" - -"I'll trust you also," said Allen, looking at the man's clear -eyes and responding to his true-hearted grip, "and in fact I -need a friend now, Mr. Parkins." - -"Call me Parkins, plain, without the Mister. Well, here I am, ready -to be your pal, while Mark's over the herring-pond. What's up? Do -you want me to cut a throat? Just say the word, and I'll do it. -Anything for a change, for I'm dead sick of this place ever since I -left the _Dunoon Castle_." - -It was this speech which made Allen jump. "What, did you come home -in the _Dunoon Castle?_" - -"You bet I did, and a fine passage we had." - -"Did you know a passenger called Strode?" - -Parkins raised his immense bulk slightly, and looked sharply at -the questioner. "Do you mean the man who was murdered?" - -"Yes. I suppose you read about the crime in the papers?" - -"That's so. Yes, I knew him very well. Better than any one on -board, I guess. We got along finely. Not a man I trusted," added -Parkins musingly, "but a clever sort of chap. Well?" - -"Did he ever tell you of his daughter?" - -"No. He never spoke of his private relations." - -"Well, he has a daughter, Miss Eva Strode. You must have read her name -in the papers when the case was reported." - -"I did," said Parkins after a pause; "yes?" - -"I'm engaged to her." - -Parkins rose and looked astonished. "That's a queer start." - -"You'll hear of something queerer if you will answer my questions." - -"What sort of questions?" - -Allen debated within himself if he should trust Parkins all in all. -It seemed a rash thing to do, and yet there was something about the -man which showed that he would not break faith. Horace was just the -sort of companion Allen needed to search after Butsey in the slums -of Whitechapel. It was no good telling him anything, unless all were -told, and yet Allen hesitated to bring in the name of his father. -Finally he resolved to say as little as he could about him, and -merely detail the broad facts of the murder, and of the theft of the -hand, without mentioning names. "Parkins," he said frankly and with -a keen look, "can I trust you?" - -"I guess so," said the big man serenely. "I mean what I say. You -can take my word without oaths, I reckon." - -"Very well, then," said Allen with a sudden impulse to make a clean -breast of it; "sit down again and answer a few questions." - -Horace dropped down heavily and loaded his pipe. While he was -lighting up, he listened to Allen's questions. But Allen did not -begin before he had explained the purpose of his inquiries. - -"I am engaged to Miss Strode," said Allen, "but she refuses to marry -me until I learn who killed her father." - -"Very right and just," nodded Parkins. - -"Well, I'm trying to hunt out the criminal, and I should like you to -help me." - -"I'm with you right along, Hill. Fire away with your questions." - -Allen began: "Did Mr. Strode ever tell you he had money?" - -"Yes. He made a lot in South Africa and not in the most -respectable way. I don't like talking ill of the dead, and of -the father of the girl you're going to make Mrs. Hill, but if I -am to be truthful----" - -"I want you to be, at all costs. The issues are too great for anything -false to be spoken." - -"Well then, I heard a lot about Strode in Africa before we steamed -together in the _Dunoon Castle_. He made his money in shady ways." - -"Humph!" said Allen, "I'm not surprised, from what I've heard." - -"He was an I. D. B. if you want to get to facts." - -"What's that?" demanded Allen. - -"An illicit diamond buyer." - -"Can you explain?" - -"I guess so. Strode bought diamonds from any one who had them. If a -Kaffir stole a jewel, and many of them do steal, you bet, Strode -would buy it from him at a small price. He was on this lay for a -long time, but was never caught. And yet I don't know," said -Parkins half to himself, "that brute Jerry Train knew something of -his doings!" - -Allen almost leaped from his seat. "Jerry! was he a big red-headed -man--a ruffian?" - -"He was a bad lot all through--a horse-thief and I don't know what -else in the way of crime. He made South Africa too hot for him, -and came home steerage in the _Dunoon Castle_. I saw him at times, -as I knew a heap about him, and he thieved from a pal of mine up -Bulawayo way. He seemed to suspect Strode of yanking diamonds out -of the country." - -"Did Strode tell you he possessed diamonds?" - -"No. He said he'd made money to the extent of forty thousand -pounds." - -"Did he carry the money with him?" - -Parkins shook his head. "I can't say. I should think he'd have -letters of credit. He'd a pocket-book he was always dipping into, -and talked of his money a lot." - -"A blue pocket-book with a crest?" - -"That's so. Do you know it?" - -"No. But that pocket-book was stolen from the body. At least it -was not found, so it must have been stolen." - -"Oh, and I guess Strode was murdered for the sake of the -pocket-book. But see here," said Horace shrewdly, "I've told you a -heap. Now, you cut along and reel out a yarn to me." - -The other man needed no second invitation. He laid aside his -pipe and told the story of the crime, suppressing only the -doings of his father. Horace listened and nodded at intervals. - -"I don't see clear after all," he said when Allen ended, "sure you've -told me everything?" - -The young man looked uneasy. "I've told you what I could." - -Parkins rose and stretched out his hand. "What you've told me will -never be repeated. Good-bye." - -"What for?" asked Allen, also rising. - -"Because you won't trust me. I can't straighten out this business, -unless you do." - -"The other thing I might tell isn't my own." - -"No go. If it concerns the murder it must be told. I don't work half -knowledge with any one. You can trust me." - -Allen hesitated. He wanted to tell all, for he felt sure that -Parkins would help him. But then it seemed terrible to reveal his -father's shame to a stranger. What was he to do? - -"See here, I'll tell--you everything, suppressing names." - -"Won't do," said the inflexible Parkins; "good-bye." - -"Will you give me a few hours to think over the matter?" - -"No. If I'm not to be trusted now, I'm not to be trusted at all." - -The young man bit his fingers. He couldn't let Parkins go, for he -knew about Strode and Red Jerry, and might aid the case a lot. It was -imperative that the truth should be discovered, else it might be that -his father would be put to open shame. Better, Allen thought, to tell -Parkins and get his aid, than risk the arrest of his father and see -the whole story in the papers. "I'll tell all," he said. - -"Good man," growled Parkins, his brow clearing. - -When in possession of all the facts, Parkins thought for a moment -and delivered his opinion: "Strode I take it was followed to the Red -Deeps by Jerry Train, and Jerry shot him and stole the pocket-book." - -"But the wooden hand?" - -"Merry's got it and he's in the gang. Hold on," said Parkins, "I'll -not give a straight opinion till I see this boy. We'll go down and -hunt him up. He'll give the show away." - -"But my father?" asked Allen, downcast. - -"He's a crank. I don't believe he mixed up in the biznai at all." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE FINDING OF BUTSEY - - -It did not take Allen long to learn something about Butsey. An -inquiry at the offices of the philanthropic people, who dealt with -the transfer of ragged boys to the country for fresh air, brought out -the fact that Butsey was a thief, and a sparrow of the gutter, who -lived in a certain Whitechapel den--address given--with a set of the -greatest ruffians in London. - -"It was a mere accident the boy came here," said the spectacled -gentleman who supplied the information; "we were sending out a number -of ragged children to Westhaven for a couple of days, and this boy -came and asked if he could go too. At first, we were not inclined to -accept him, as we knew nothing about him. But the boy is so clever -and amusing, that we consented he should go. He went with the rest to -Westhaven, but did not keep with those who looked after the poor -creatures. In fact, Mr. Hill," said the gentleman frankly, "Butsey -took French leave." - -"Where did he go?" - -"I can't tell you. But one of our men caught sight of Father Don, and -Red Jerry, at Westhaven--those are the ruffians Butsey lives with. He -might have gone with them." - -"Did you take the children down on a Wednesday?" - -"Yes. And then they came back, late the next day." - -Allen reflected that if Butsey sent the wire before four o'clock, he -must have gone back to London, and wondered where he got the money -for the fare. Then he must have come down again, in order to give the -lying message to Mrs. Merry. However, he told the philanthropist -nothing of this, but thanked him for his information. "I intend to -look this boy up," he said, when taking his leave. - -"Has he got into trouble?" asked the gentleman anxiously. - -"Well, not exactly. But I want to learn something from him relative to -a matter about which it is not necessary to be too precise. I assure -you, sir, Butsey will not come to harm." - -"He has come to harm enough already, poor lad." I tell you, Mr. -Hill, "that I should like to drag that boy out of the gutter, and -make him a decent member of society. He is sharp beyond his years, -but his talents are utilised in the wrong way----" - -"By Father Don, Red Jerry, and Co.," said Allen drily; "so I think." - -"One moment, Mr. Hill; if you go to the Perry Street den, take a plain -clothes policeman with you. Father Don is dangerous." - -"Oh, I'll see to that," said Allen, confident in his own muscles and -in those of Parkins. "You couldn't get Butsey to come here?" - -"I fear not--I sadly fear not, Mr. Hill. The boy has never been near -us since he came back with the children from Westhaven." - -"He did come back with them, then?" - -"Oh yes," said the philanthropist frankly, by the late train; "but -what he did in the meantime, and where he went, I can't say. He -refused to give an account of himself." - -"Shrewd little devil," said Allen; "but I think I know." - -"I trust it has nothing to do with the police," said the gentleman -anxiously; "a detective asked after Butsey. I gave him the address -of Father Don in Perry Street, but the lad could not be found. The -detective refused to say why the lad was wanted, and I hope he'll -not come to harm. If you find him, bring him to me, and I'll see -what I can do to save him. It's a terrible thing to think that an -immortal soul and a clever lad should remain in the depths." - -Allen assented politely, promised to do what he could towards -bringing about the reformation of Butsey, and went his way. He -privately thought that to make Butsey a decent member of society -would be next door to impossible, for the lad seemed to be quite a -criminal, and education might only make him the more dangerous to -the well-being of the community. However he reserved his opinion -on this point, and got back to his Woburn rooms to explain to -Horace. The big American--for he virtually was a Yankee--nodded -gravely. - -"We'll go down this very night," he said. "I guess we'd best put on -old togs, leave our valuables at home, and carry six-shooters." - -"Do you think that last is necessary?" asked Allen anxiously. - -"It's just as well to be on the safe side, Hill. If this boy is -employed by Father Don and his gang, he won't be let go without a -fight. Maybe he knows too much for the safety of the gang." - -"That's very probable," assented Hill drily; "however, we'll take -all precautions, and go to Perry Street." - -"This is what I call enjoyment," said Horace, stretching his long -limbs. "I'm not a quarrelsome man, but, by Gosh, I'm just spoiling -for a fight." - -"I think there's every chance we'll get what you want, Parkins." - -So the matter was arranged, and after dinner the two men changed -into shabby clothes. It was raining heavily, and they put on -overcoats, scarves, and wore slouch hats. Both carried revolvers, and -thus they felt ready for any emergency. As Allen knew London -comparatively well, he took the lead, and conducted Horace to -Aldgate Station by the underground railway. Here they picked up a cab -and went to Whitechapel. The driver knew Perry Street but refused -to go near it, on the plea that it was a dangerous locality. However, -he deposited the two near the place, and drove away in the rain, -leaving Allen and Horace in a somewhat dark street. A search for a -guide produced a ragged boy of the Butsey type, who volunteered to -show the way to Father Don's den. "You've got some swag to send up -the spout, gents both?" leered the brat, looking up to the big men -as they stood under a lamp-post. - -"Just so," said Horace quickly, thinking this a good excuse; "you -engineer us along, sonny, and we'll give you a shilling." - -"A bob?--that's good enough," said the urchin, and scampered down a -back street so quickly that they had some difficulty in keeping up -with him. Later on, when they caught him at the end of a -_cul-de-sac_, Allen gripped the guide by his wet shoulder. "Do you know -a boy called Butsey?" - -"Oh my eyes and ears, don't I just? Why, he's Father Don's pet. But -he's in disgrace now." - -"Why?" asked Horace coolly. - -"Father Don sent him down the country, and he didn't turn up at the -hour he was told to. He's been whacked and put on bread and water," -said the brat, grinning, "worse luck for Father Don. Butsey'll put a -knife into him for that." - -"Good," whispered Allen to the American as they went on in the -darkness. "Butsey will have a grudge against Father Don, and will be -all the more ready to tell." - -"Humph! I'm not so sure. There's honour amongst thieves." - -They had no further time for conversation, for the guide turned down a -narrow lane leading off the _cul-de-sac_, and knocked at the door of a -ruined house with broken windows. A shrill voice inside asked who was -there. - -"Swell mobsmen with swag for the patrico," said the guide, whistling -shrilly. "Show us a light." - -The door opened, and a small pinched-looking girl appeared with a -candle. She examined the two men and then admitted them. When they -ventured within, she shut the door, which seemed to be very strong. -But Horace noticed a door on the left of the passage leading into an -empty room. He knew that one of the broken windows set in the street -wall gave light to this room, and resolved to make it a line of -retreat should they be too hardly pressed. Meantime the boy and girl -led the way along the passage and towards a trap-door. Here, steps -leading downward brought them to a large cellar filled with ragged -people of both sexes. There was a fire in a large chimney, which -seemed to have been constructed to roast an ox, and round this they -sat, their damp garments steaming in the heat. A curtain portioned off -a corner of the cellar, and when the strangers entered two shrill -voices were heard talking together angrily. But the thieves around -paid no attention. - -"Red Jerry," said Horace, touching Allen's arm, and he pointed to a -truculent-looking ruffian, almost as big as himself, who was lying on -a bed composed of old newspapers and day-bills. He seemed to be -drunk, for he breathed heavily and his pipe had fallen from his -fevered lips. "Nice man to tackle," muttered Horace. - -"Come along," said the guide, tugging at Allen's hand. "Father Don's -got some one in there, but he'll see you. What's the swag--silver?" - -"Never you mind," said Horace; "you find Butsey and I'll make it worth -your while." - -"Give us a sov. and I'll do it," said the brat. "I'm Billy, and fly at -that." - -"Good. A sov. you shall have." - -The boy whistled again and some of the thieves cursed him. He then -pushed Horace towards the ragged curtain behind which the shrill voices -sounded, and vanished. The two were now fully committed to the adventure. - -Curiously enough, the ruffians in the cellar did not take much notice -of the strangers. Perhaps they were afraid of Father Don, seeing that -the two came to dispose of swag, and at all events they apparently -thought that Father Don could protect himself. Meanwhile the keen ears -of Horace heard a deeper voice, something like a man's, mingling with -the shrill ones of the other speakers. Without a moment's hesitation, -and anxious to get the business over, the big American dragged aside -the curtain and entered. - -Allen and he found themselves before a narrow door. On entering this, -for it was open, they saw an old man with a white beard sitting at a -small table with papers before him. Near, was a small sharp-faced man, -and at the end of the table sat a woman dressed in black. - -"It won't do, Father Don," the woman was saying in deep tones; "you -told that brat to rob me. Give it up, I tell you." - -"Give up what?" asked Father Don sharply. "How can I give up anything, -when I don't know what it is?" - -"Butsey knows," said the woman. "Where is he?" - -"On bread and water in the attic," said the small man with a shrill -laugh; "he's having his pride brought down." - -"You'd better take care of Butsey," said the woman drily, "or he'll -sell you." - -"Let him try," snarled the benevolent-looking old gentleman. "Red -Jerry's his father and will break his back." - -This much the two gentlemen heard, and it was then that the American -appeared in the narrow doorway. The woman started and looked at him. -He eyed her in turn and saw a fine-looking creature with dark eyes, -and of a full voluptuous beauty hardly concealed by the plain dark -robes she wore. Allen glanced over Parkins's shoulder and uttered an -ejaculation. "Why, Miss Lorry," he said. - -The woman started and rose quickly, overturning the table. The small -lamp on it, fell and went out. There were a few curses from Father -Don and a shrill expostulation from the small man. In the hot -darkness a dress brushed past the two men who were now in the room, -and a strong perfume saluted their nostrils. Horace could have -stopped Miss Lorry from going, but he had no reason to do so, and she -slipped out while Father Don was groping for the lamp, and the other -man struck a match. As the blue flare spurted up, the man saw the two -who had entered. "What's this?" he cried with an oath, which it is not -necessary to set down; "who are you?" - -"We've come about business," said Horace; "don't you move till the old -man's got the lamp alight, or you'll get hurt." - -"It's the 'tecs," said Father Don savagely. - -"I guess not. We've come to do business." - -This remark seemed to stimulate the curiosity of the two men, and -they refrained from a shout which would have brought in all the -riff-raff without. Allen congratulated himself, that Parkins had -roused this curiosity. He had no desire to fight in a dark cellar -with his back to the wall against a score of ruffians. In a few -minutes the lamp was lighted. "Turn it up, Foxy," said Father Don; -"and now, gentlemen," he added politely, "how did you get here?" - -"A boy called Billy brought us," said Allen stepping forward. "I fear -we've frightened the lady away." - -"Let her go, the jade," said Foxy shrilly; "there would have been a -heap of trouble if she'd remained," and he confirmed this speech with -several oaths. - -Father Don did not swear. He spoke in a clear, refined, and -educated voice, and apparently was a well-educated man who had -fallen into the depths through some rascality. But his face looked -most benevolent, and no one would have suspected him of being a -ruffian of the worst. He eyed Allen piercingly, and also his -companion. "Well, gentlemen," he asked quietly, "and what can I do -for you?" Horace sat down heavily and pulled out his pipe. "We may -as well talk comfortably," he said. "Sit down, Hill." - -"Hill?" said Father Don with a start, while Foxy opened his small -eyes--"not of Wargrove?" - -"The same," said Allen quietly. "How do you know me?" - -"I know a good many things," said Father Don calmly. - -"Do you know who shot Strode?" - -Foxy rose as though moved by a spring. "You're on that lay, are you?" -said he shrilly; "then you've come to the wrong shop." - -"Oh, I guess not, said Horace lazily--to the right shop. You see, -Mister," he went on to the elder ruffian, "we want that wooden hand." - -"What wooden hand?" asked Father Don. "If you mean----" - -"Yes, I do mean that," said Allen quickly; "you brought it to Mr. Mask -to get the money." - -"Did I?" said Father Don coolly and eyeing the young man; "well, maybe -I did. But I didn't take it from the dead?" - -Allen coloured. "Merry took it," he said. - -"Oh no, he didn't," sneered Foxy. "Merry got it from Butsey, who dug -it up after it had been planted by----" - -"Stop," said Allen, rising. "Father Don," he added, turning to -the old man, "you seem to be a gentleman----" - -"I was once. But what's that got to do with this?" - -"Stop this man," he pointed to Foxy, "from mentioning names." - -"I'll stop everything, if you'll tell us where the diamonds are to be -found," said Father Don. - -"I don't know what you mean," said Allen. - -"Oh yes, you do. You know everything about this case, and you've come -here to get the hand. Well then, you won't. Only while I hold that -hand can I get the diamonds." - -"Where will you get them?" - -"That's what I want you to tell me." - -"I guess Red Jerry knows," said Horace sharply; "he took the diamonds -from the dead body of the man he shot." - -"Meaning Strode," said Foxy, with a glance at Father Don. - -"Jerry didn't shoot him," said that venerable fraud. - -"I surmise he did," said Parkins. "Ask him in." - -"How do you know about Jerry?" asked Father Don uneasily. - -"I sailed along o' him, and saved him from being lynched as a -horse-thief. If you won't call him in, I'll do so myself." - -"Hold your tongue," said Father Don, rising and looking very -benevolent, "you take too much upon yourself. I'm king here, and if I -say the word neither of you will go out alive." - -"Oh, I guess so," said Horace coolly, "we don't come unprepared," and -in a moment he swung out his Derringer. "Sit still, Father Christmas," -said Parkins, levelling this, "or you'll get hurt." - -Seeing Parkins's action, Allen produced his weapon and covered Foxy, -so there sat the kings of the castle, within hail of their ruffianly -crew, unable to call for assistance. - -"And now we'll call in Jerry," said Allen coolly. "Sing out, Parkins." - -But before the big American could raise a shout there was a sudden -noise outside. A shrill voice was heard crying that the police were -coming, and then ensued a babel. Father Don seized the opportunity -when Parkins's eye was wavering to knock the revolver out of his -hand. The American thereupon made a clutch at his throat, while -Allen tripped Foxy up. A small boy dashed into the room. He was -white-faced, stunted, red-haired, and had but one eye. At once he -made for Parkins, squealing for the police. When he got a grip of -Horace's hand he dropped his voice: - -"Ketch t'other cove's hand, and mine," said the boy, and then with a -dexterous movement overturned the table, whereby the lamp went out -again for the second time. Parkins seized the situation at once, and -while Father Don, suddenly released, scrambled on the floor, and made -use for the first time of bad language, he grabbed Allen's hand and -dragged him toward the door. Horace in his turn was being drawn -swiftly along by the small boy. The outer cellar was filled with a -mass of screaming, squalling, swearing humanity, all on the alert for -the advent of the police. The boy drew the two men through the crowd, -which did not know whence to expect the danger. Horace hurled his way -through the mob by main strength, and Allen followed in his -devastating wake. Shortly, they reached the trap-door, and ran along -the passage. The boy pulled them into the side-room Horace had noted -when he came to the den. - -"Break the winder," said the boy to Parkins. - -The American did not need further instructions, and wrapping his -coat round his arm he smashed the frail glass. From below came -confusedly the noise of the startled thieves. But Horace first, -Allen next, and the boy last, dropped on to the pavement. Then -another lad appeared, and all four darted up the street. In ten -minutes they found themselves blown but safe, in the chief -thoroughfare and not far from a policeman, who looked suspiciously -at them. - -"There," said the last-joined boy, "you're saif. Butsey saived y'." - -"Butsey?" said Allen, looking at the stunted, one-eyed lad. - -"That's me," said Butsey with a grin; "y'were near being scragged by -th' ole man. If y'd called Red Jerry, he'd ha' done fur y'. Miss Lorry -told me t'get you out, and I've done it." - -"But I reckon the old Father Christmas told us you were locked up." - -"Was," said Butsey laconically; "in th' attic--bread an' water. I -ain't goin' to work fur sich a lot any more, so I dropped out of th' -winder, and climbed the roof--down the spout. In the street I met Miss -Lorry--she told me there was fightin' below, so'--he winked. - -"Then there was no police?" said Allen, admiring the boy's cleverness. - -"Not much. But they're allays expecting of th' peelers," said Butsey -coolly; "'twasn't difficult to get 'em rizzed with fright. But you look -here, Misters, you clear out now, or they'll be after you." - -"You come also, Butsey." - -"Not me. I'm a-goin' to doss along o' Billy here. I'll come an' see you -at Wargrove and bring the wooden hand with me." - -"What," said Allen, "do you know----?" - -"I knows a lot, an' I'm going to split," said Butsey. "Give us a -bob"; and when Allen tossed him one, he spat on it for luck. "See y' -m' own time," said Butsey. "I'm goin' to turn respectable an' split. -Th' ole man ain't goin' to shut me up for nix. 'Night," and catching -his companion's arm, both boys ran off into the darkness. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MRS. MERRY'S VISITORS - - -The visit to the den was certainly a fiasco. Those who had ventured -into those depths, had, on the face of it, gained nothing. What would -have happened had not Butsey raised the false alarm it is impossible -to say. According to the boy, Jerry would have turned disagreeable, -and probably there would have been a free fight. As it was, Allen and -Horace came back without having achieved their object. They were as -far as ever from the discovery of the truth. - -"And yet, I don't know," said Allen hopefully, "somehow I feel -inclined to trust Butsey. He's got some scheme in his head." - -"Huh," said Horace heavily, "y' can't trust a boy like that. He's got -his monkey up because the old man dropped on him, but like as not, -he'll change his tune and go back. Father Don 'ull make things square. -He can't afford to lose a promising young prig like Butsey." - -"I believe the boy will come to Wargrove as he said," insisted Allen. - -"In that case I guess we'd better go down too. Would you mind putting -me up for a few days?" - -"I'll be glad, and I don't think my father will object. It is just as -well you should see him." - -"That's why I want to come down," said Parkins cheerfully; "y'see, -Hill, the business has to be worked out somehow. I think your father's -got a crazy fit, and there isn't anything he's got to be afraid of. -But he's shivering about some one, and who that some one is, we must -learn. Better we should sift the matter ourselves than let the police -handle it." - -Allen turned pale. "God forbid," said he; "I want the authorities kept -away." - -So Allen wrote a letter to his father, asking if he could bring down -Parkins for a few days. The reply, strange to say, came from Mrs. -Hill, and the reading of it afforded Allen some thought. - -"There is no need to ask your father anything," she wrote, "he has -given everything into my hands, even to the money. What the reason -is I can't say, as he refuses to speak. He seems very much afraid, and -remains in his own rooms--the Japanese apartments. Mr. Mask also -refused to speak, saying my husband would tell me himself if he felt -inclined, but I can learn nothing. I am glad you are coming back, -Allen, as I am seriously anxious. Of course you can bring Mr. -Parkins. The house is large and he will not need to go near your -father, though, it may be, the sight of a new face would do your -father good. At all events come down and let us talk over things." - -So Allen and Horace went to Westhaven and drove over to Wargrove. On -the way Allen stopped the brougham, which was driven by Harry -Jacobs, and took Horace to the Red Deeps to see the spot where the -murder had been committed. When they got back--as the day was -wet--their boots were covered with the red mud of the place. Jacobs -saw this, and begged to speak to Allen before he got in. - -"I say, Mr. Allen," he whispered, so that Parkins, now in the -brougham, should not hear, "do you remember when I drove you to Misery -Castle I said I'd tell you something?" - -"Yes. What is it?" - -"Well, you know I clean the boots, sir? Well, master's boots were -covered with that red mud, on the day after----" - -"I know all about that," interrupted Allen, feeling his blood run cold -as he thought what trouble might come through the boy's chatter; "my -father explained. You need not mention it." - -"No, sir," said Jacobs obediently enough. He was devoted to Allen, -for a queer reason that Allen had once thrashed him for being -impertinent. There was no danger that he would say anything, but on -the way to Wargrove the groom wondered if his master had anything to -do with the commission of the crime. Only in the direction of the Red -Deeps could such mud be found, and Jacobs had no doubt but that Mr. -Hill senior had been to the place. - -When they arrived at "The Arabian Nights" Mr. Hill at first refused -to see Allen, but consented to do so later. When the young man -entered the Japanese rooms, he was alarmed to see how ill his father -looked. The man was wasting to skin and bone, his face was as white -as death, and he started nervously at every noise. - -"You must see Dr. Grace," said Allen. - -"No," said Hill, "I won't--I shan't--I can't. How can you ask me to -see any one when I'm in such danger?" - -"You're in no danger here," said his son soothingly. - -"So your mother says, and I can trust her. Let me keep to my own -rooms, Allen, and leave me alone." - -"You don't mind Parkins being in the house?" - -"Why should I?--the house has nothing to do with me. I have given -everything over to your mother's care. Mask has drawn up my will--it -is signed and sealed, and he has it. Everything has been left to your -mother. I left nothing to you," he added maliciously. - -"I don't want anything, so long as my mother is safe." - -"She is safe," said his father gloomily, "but am I? They'll find me -out and kill me----" - -"Who will?" asked Allen sharply. - -"Don't speak like that--your voice goes through my head. Go away and -amuse your friend. Your mother is mistress here--I am nothing, I -only want my bite and sup--leave me alone--oh, how weary I am!" - -So the miserable man maundered on. He had quite lost his -affectations and looked worn out. He mostly lay on the sofa all -day, and for the rest of the time he paced the room ceaselessly. -Seeing him in this state Allen sought his mother. - -"Something must be done," he said. - -"What can be done?" said Mrs. Hill, who looked firmer than ever. -"He seems to be afraid of something. What it is I don't know--the -illness is mental, and you can't minister to a mind diseased. -Perhaps you can tell me what this all means, Allen." - -"I'll tell you what I know," said Allen wearily, for the anxiety was -wearing out his nerves, and he thereupon related all that had taken -place since he left Wargrove. Mrs. Hill listened in silence. - -"Of course, unless your father speaks we can do nothing," she said at -last; "do you think he is in his right mind, Allen?" - -"No. He has always been eccentric," said the son, "and now, as he is -growing old he is becoming irresponsible. I am glad he has given -everything over to you, mother, and has made his will." - -"Mr. Mask induced him to do that," said Mrs. Hill thankfully; "if he -had remained obstinately fixed about the money I don't know what I -should have done. But now that everything is in my hands I can manage -him better. Let him stay in his rooms and amuse himself, Allen. If it -is necessary that he should see the doctor I shall insist on his doing -so. But at present I think it is best to leave him alone." - -"Well, mother, perhaps you are right. And in any case Parkins and I -will not trouble him or you much. I'll introduce him to Mrs. Palmer, -and she'll take him off our hands." - -"Of course she will," said Mrs. Hill rather scornfully; "the woman's -a born flirt. So you don't know yet who killed Eva's father, Allen?" - -"No," said he, shaking his head. "I must see Eva and tell her of my -bad fortune." - -No more was said at the time, and life went on fairly well in the -house. Under Mrs. Hill's firm sway the management of domestic affairs -was much improved, and the servants were satisfied, which they had -never been, when Lawrence Hill was sole master. Parkins was much -liked by Mrs. Hill, and easily understood that Mr. Hill, being an -invalid, could not see him. She put it this way to save her husband's -credit. She was always attending to him, and he clung to her like a -frightened child to its mother. There was no doubt that the fright -over the parcel had weakened a mind never very strong. - -Allen and Parkins walked, rode, golfed on the Shanton Links, and -paid frequent visits to Mrs. Palmer's place. Allen took the -American there within a couple of days of his return, and the -widow forthwith admired Parkins. "A charming giant," she described -him, and Horace reciprocated. "I like her no end," he confided to -Allen; "she's a clipper. Just the wife for me." - -Eva laughed when Allen told her this, and remarked that if things went -on as they were doing there was every chance that Mrs. Palmer would -lose her heart. - -"But that's ridiculous, Eva," said Allen, "they have known each other -only five days." - -"Well, we fell in love in five minutes," said Eva, smiling, which -provocative remark led to an exchange of kisses. - -The two were seated in the drawing-room of the villa. They had -enjoyed a very good dinner, and had now split into couples. Allen -and Eva remained in the drawing-room near the fire, while Parkins -and Mrs. Palmer played billiards. It was a chill, raw evening, but -the room looked bright and cheerful. The lovers were very happy -being together again, and especially at having an hour to -themselves. Mrs. Palmer was rather exacting, and rarely let Eva out -of her sight. - -"But she is really kind," said Eva, turning her calm face to Allen; -"no one could be kinder." - -"Except me, I hope," said Allen, crossing the hearth-rug and seating -himself by her side. "I want to speak seriously, Eva." - -"Oh dear," she said in dismay; "is it about our marriage?" - -"Yes. I have arranged the money business with Horace Parkins, and it -is necessary I should go to South America as soon as possible. If I -don't, the mine may be sold to some one else." - -"But can't Mr. Mark Parkins buy it?" - -"Well, he could, but Horace wants to go out, so as to be on the -spot, and I must go with him. It's my one chance of making a -fortune, for the mine is sure to turn out a great success. As I want -to marry you, Eva, I must make money. There's no chance, so far as I -can see, of your getting that forty thousand pounds Lord Saltars -spoke of." - -"Then you really think, Allen, that there is money?" - -"I am certain of it--in the form of diamonds. But we'll talk of that -later. Meantime I want to say that, as you wish it, we'll put off -our marriage for a year. You can stay here with Mrs. Palmer, and -I'll go next month to South America with Horace Parkins." - -"But what about my father's death?" - -"I hope that we'll learn the truth within the next three weeks," -said Allen. "Everything turns on this boy Butsey. He knows the -truth." - -"But will he tell it?" - -"I think he will. The lad is clever but venomous. The way in which -he has been treated by his father and Don has made him bitter -against them. Also, after the false alarm he gave the other night to -get Parkins and me out of the mess, he can't very well go back to that -place. The old man would murder him; and I don't fancy the poor little -wretch would receive much sympathy from his father." - -"What do you think of him, Allen?" - -"My dear, I don't know enough about him to speak freely. From -what the philanthropist in Whitechapel says, I think the boy is -very clever, and that his talents might be made use of. He is -abominably treated by the brutes he lives with--why, his eye was put -out by his father. But the boy has turned on the gang. He burnt -his boats when he raised that alarm, and I am quite sure in his -own time, he will come down here and turn King's evidence." - -"About what?" - -"About the murder. The boy knows the truth. It's my opinion that Red -Jerry killed your father, Eva." - -"How do you make that out?" she asked anxiously. - -"Well, Red Jerry knew of your father in Africa and knew that he -was buying diamonds." Allen suppressed the fact of Strode's being -an I. D. B. "He followed him home in the _Dunoon Castle_, and then -went to tell Foxy and Father Don at Whitechapel. They came down to -Westhaven and tracked your father to the Red Deeps, and there shot -him. I can't understand why they did not take the wooden hand -then, though." - -"Who did take the hand?" asked Eva. - -"My father. Yes," said Allen sadly, "you may look astonished and -horrified, Eva, but it was my unhappy father. He is not in his -right mind, Eva, for that is the only way to account for his strange -behaviour;" and then Allen rapidly told Eva details. - -"Oh," said the girl when he finished, "he must be mad, Allen. I don't -see why he should act in that way if he was not. Your father has -always been an excitable, eccentric man, and this trouble of my -father's death has been too much for him. I quite believe he intended -to kill my father, and thank God he did not--that would have parted us -for ever. But the excitement has driven your father mad, so he is not -so much to blame as you think." - -"I am glad to hear you say so, darling," said the poor young fellow, -"for it's been like a nightmare, to think that my father should -behave in such a manner. I dreaded telling you, but I thought it was -best to do so." - -"I am very glad you did," she replied, putting her arms round him; -"oh, don't worry, Allen. Leave my father's murder alone. Go out to -Bolivia, buy this mine, and when you have made your fortune come back -for me. I'll be waiting for you here, faithful and true." - -"But you want to know who killed Mr. Strode?" - -"I've changed my mind," she answered quickly, "the affair seems -to be so mysterious that I think it will never be solved. Still I -fancy you are right: Red Jerry killed my father for the sake of -the diamonds." - -"He did not get them if he did," said Allen, "else he and Father Don -would not have gone to see Mask and thus have risked arrest. No, my -dear Eva, the whole secret is known to Butsey. He can tell the -truth. If he keeps his promise, and comes here we shall know all: if -he does not, we'll let the matter alone. I'll go to Bolivia about -this business, and return to marry you." - -"And then we'll bury the bad old past," said Eva, "and begin a new -life, darling. But, Allen, do you think Miss Lorry knows anything?" - -"What, that circus woman? I can't say. It was certainly queer she -should have been in that den. What a woman for your cousin to marry." - -"I don't know if he will marry after all," said Eva. - -"I believe old Lady Ipsen will stop the marriage." - -"How do you know?" - -"Because she wrote to say she was coming to see me. She says she will -come unexpectedly, as she has something to tell me." - -Allen coloured. He hoped to avoid old Lady Ipsen as he did not -forget that she had accused his mother of stealing the Delham -heirloom. However, he merely nodded and Eva went on: "Of course I am -willing to be civil to her and shall see her. But she's a horrid old -woman, Allen, and has behaved very badly to me. I am her -granddaughter, and she should have looked after me. I won't let her -do so now. Well, Allen, that's one piece of news I had to tell you. -The next is about Giles Merry." - -"What about him?" - -"I received a letter from Shanton written by Miss Lorry. That was when -you were away. She sent it over by Butsey." - -"What! Was that boy here?" - -"Yes. When you were away. He delivered it at the door and went. I -only knew it was Butsey from the description, and by that time the -boy was gone. Had I seen him I should have asked Wasp to keep him -here, till you came back." - -"I understand," said Allen thoughtfully. "Miss Lorry sent for Butsey. -He was told to return to Perry Street, Whitechapel, within a certain -time and did not. For that, Father Don shut him up in the attic and -fed him on bread and water. The treatment made Butsey rebellious. But -what had Miss Lorry to say?" - -"She wrote that if Giles Merry worried me I was to let her know and -she'd stop him doing so." - -Allen looked astonished. "Why should Giles worry you?" he asked -indignantly. - -"I can't say. He hasn't come to see me yet, and if he does, of -course I would rather you dealt with him than Miss Lorry. I want to -have nothing to do with her." - -"Still, she's not a bad sort," said Allen after a pause, "she saved -our lives on that night by sending Butsey to get us out of the den. -Humph! If she met Butsey on that night I wonder if she asked him to -return what he'd stolen?" - -"What was that?" asked Eva. - -"I don't know. Horace Parkins and I overheard her complaining, that -Butsey, when down seeing her, had stolen something. She refused to say -what it was and then bolted when she saw me. But what has Giles Merry -to do with her?" - -"Cain told me that Giles was the 'strong man' of Stag's Circus." - -"Oh, and Miss Lorry knows him as a fellow artiste. Humph! I daresay -she is aware of something queer about him. From the sending of that -parcel, I believe Giles is mixed up with Father Don's lot, and by -Jove, Eva, I think Miss Lorry must have something to do with them -also! We've got to do with a nice lot, I must say. And they're all -after the diamonds. I shouldn't wonder if Butsey had them, after all. -He's just the kind of young scamp who would get the better of the -elder ruffians. Perhaps he has the diamonds safely hidden, and is -leaving the gang, so as to turn respectable. He said he wanted to cut -his old life. Yes"--Allen slapped his knee--"Eva, I believe Butsey -has the diamonds. For all I know he may have shot your father." - -"Oh, Allen," said Eva, turning pale, "that lad." - -"A boy can kill with a pistol as surely as if he were a man, and -Butsey has no moral scruples. However, we'll wait till he comes and -then learn what we can. Once I get hold of him he shan't get away -until I know everything. As to Merry, if he comes, you let me know and -I'll break his confounded neck." - -"I believe Nanny would thank you if you did," said Eva; the poor -woman is in a terrible fright. "He wrote saying he was coming to -see her." - -"She needn't have anything to do with him." - -"I told her so. But she looks on the man as her husband, bad as he is, -and has old-fashioned notions about obeying him. If he wasn't her -husband she wouldn't mind, but as it is----" Eva shrugged her -shoulders. - -They heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Shortly the -footman entered. "There's a woman to see you, miss," he said to Eva, -holding the door open. "Mrs. Merry, miss." - -"What!" cried Eva; "show her in." - -"She won't come, miss. She's in the hall." - -"Come, Allen," said the girl, and they went out into the hall, where -Mrs. Merry with a scared face was sitting. She rose and came forward -in tears, and with sopping clothes, owing to her walk through the -heavy rain. - -"I ran all the way", Miss Eva. "I'm in such sorrow. Giles has come." - -"What, your husband?" said Allen. - -"Yes, and worse. I found this on the doorstep." She drew from under -her shawl the wooden hand! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -AN AMAZING CONFESSION - - -Mr. and Mrs. Merry were seated the next day in the kitchen having a -long chat. It was not a pleasant one, for Mrs. Merry was weeping as -usual, and reproaching her husband. Giles had been out to see his old -cronies in the village, and consequently had imbibed sufficient -liquor to make him quarrelsome. The first thing he did, when he flung -himself into a chair, was to grumble at the kitchen. - -"Why should we sit here, Selina?" he asked; "it's a blamed dull hole, -and I'm accustomed to drawing-rooms." - -"You can't go into the drawing-room," said Mrs. Merry, rocking and -dabbing her red eyes with the corner of her apron. "Miss Eva is in -there with a lady. They don't want to be disturbed." - -"Who is the lady?" demanded Signor Antonio, alias Mr. Merry. - -"Lady Ipsen. She's Miss Eva's grandmother and have called to see her. -What about, I'm sure I don't know, unless it's to marry her to Lord -Saltars, not that I think much of him." - -"Lady Ipsen--old Lady Ipsen?" said Giles slowly, and his eyes -brightened; "she's an old devil. I knew her in the days when I and -Hill and Strode enjoyed ourselves." - -"And bad old days they were," moaned Mrs. Merry; "you'd have been a -better man, Giles, if it hadn't been for that Strode. As for the -jelly-fish, he was just a shade weaker than you. Both of you were -under the thumb of Strode, wicked man that he was, and so cruel to his -wife, just as you are, Giles, though you mayn't think so. But if I -die----" - -"You will, if you go on like this," said Merry, producing his pipe; -"this is a nice welcome. Old Lady Ipsen," he went on, and laughed in -so unpleasant a manner, that his wife looked up apprehensively. - -"What wickedness are you plotting now?" she asked timidly. - -"Never you mind. The marriage of Lord Saltars," he went on with a -chuckle. "Ho! he's going to marry Miss Lorry." - -"So they say. But I believe Lady Ipsen wants to stop that marriage, -and small blame to her, seeing what a man he----" - -"Hold your jaw, Selina. I can't hear you talking all day. You get me -riz and you'll have bad time, old girl. So go on rocking and crying -and hold that red rag of yours. D'ye hear?" - -"Yes, Giles--but Lord Saltars----" - -"He's going to marry Miss Lorry, if I let him." - -Mrs. Merry allowed the apron to fall from her eyes in sheer -amazement. "If you let him?" she repeated; "lor', Giles, you can't -stop his lordship from----" - -"I can stop _her_," said Merry, who seemed determined never to let his -wife finish a sentence; "and I've a mind to, seeing how nasty she's -trying to make herself." He rose. "I'll see Miss Eva and make -trouble." - -"If you do, Mr. Allen will interfere," said Mrs. Merry vigorously. -"I knew you'd make trouble. It's in your nature. But Miss Lorry -wrote to Miss Eva and said she'd interfere if you meddled with what -ain't your business." - -Giles shook off the hand his wife had laid on his arm, and dropped -into a chair. He seemed dumfoundered by the information. "She'll -interfere, will she?" said he, snarling, and with glittering eyes. -"Like her impudence. She can't hurt me in any way----" - -"She may say you killed Strode," said Mrs. Merry. - -Giles raised a mighty fist with so evil a face, that the woman cowered -in her chair. Giles smiled grimly and dropped his arm. - -"You said before, as I'd killed Strode. Well then, I didn't." - -"How do I know that?" cried his wife spiritedly; "you can strike me, -but speak the truth I will. Bad as you are, I don't want to see you -hanged, and hanged you will be, whatever you may say. I heard from -Cain that you talked to Strode on the Wednesday night he was killed. -You met him at the station, when he arrived by the six-thirty, -and----" - -"What's that got to do with the murder?" snapped Giles savagely. "I -talked to him only as a pal." - -"Your wicked London friends were there too," said Mrs. Merry; "oh, -Cain told me of the lot you're in with; Father Don, Foxy, and Red -Jerry--they were all down at Westhaven, and that boy Butsey too, as -lied to me. You sent him here to lie. Cain said so." - -"I'll break Cain's head if he chatters. What if my pals were at -Westhaven? what if I did speak to Strode----?" - -"You was arranging to have him shot," said Mrs. Merry, "and shot him -yourself for all I know." - -Signor Antonio leaped, and taking his wife by the shoulders, shook -her till her head waggled. "There," he said, while she gasped, "you -say much more and I'll knock you on the head with a poker, you -poll-parrot. I was doing my turn at the circus at the time Strode -was shot, if he was shot at nine on Wednesday as the doctor said. I -saw the evidence in the paper. You can't put the crime on me." - -"Then your pals did it." - -"No, they didn't. They wanted the diamonds, it's true----" - -"They struck him down and robbed him." - -"You said they shot him just now," sneered Giles with an evil face, -"don't know your own silly mind, it seems. Gar'n, you fool, there was -nothing on him to rob. If my pals had shot him, they'd have collared -the wooden hand. That was the token to get the diamonds, as Red Jerry -said. But Mask hasn't got them, and though Father Don did open the -hand he found nothing." - -"Open the hand?" questioned Mrs. Merry curiously. - -"Yes. We found out--I found out, and in a way which ain't got -nothing to do with you, that the hand could be opened. It was quite -empty. Then Father Don put it aside, and that brat Butsey prigged -it. Much good may it do him." - -"The wooden hand was put on the doorstep last night," said Mrs. Merry, -"and I gave it to Miss Eva." - -The man's face grew black. "Oh, you did, did you," he said, "instead -of giving it to your own lawful husband? I've a mind to smash -you," he raised his fist again, and his poor wife winced; then he -changed his mind and dropped it. "But you ain't worth a blow, you -white-faced screeching cat. I'll see Miss Eva and make her give -up the hand myself. See if I don't." - -"Mr. Allen will interfere." - -"Let him," snarled Merry; "I know something as will settle him. I -want that hand, and I'm going to have it. Get those diamonds I -will, wherever they are. I believe Butsey's got 'em. He's just -the sort of little devil as would have opened that hand, and -found the paper inside, telling where the diamonds were." - -"But did he have the hand?" - -"Yes, he did. He dug up the hand--never mind where--and brought -it to me. It was empty then. Yes, I believe Butsey has the -diamonds, so the hand will be no go. Miss Eva can keep it if she -likes, or bury it along with that infernal Strode, who was a -mean cuss to round on his pals the way he did." - -"Ah! he was a bad man," sighed Mrs. Merry; "and did he----?" - -"Shut up and mind your own business," said Giles in surly tones. -He thought he had said too much. "It's that Butsey I must look -for. He stole the hand from Father Don and left it on your -doorstep, for Miss Eva, I suppose. He must be in the place, so -I'll look for him. I know the brat's playing us false, but his -father's got a rod in pickle for him, and----" - -"Oh, Giles, Giles, you'll get into trouble again. That Wasp----" - -"I'll screw his neck if he meddles with me," said the strong man -savagely; "see here, Selina, I'm not going to miss a chance of making -a fortune. Those diamonds are worth forty thousand pounds, and -Butsey's got them. I want money to hunt him down and to do--other -things," said Giles, hesitating, "have you got five hundred?" - -"No," said Mrs. Merry with spirit, "and you shouldn't have it if I had. -You're my husband, Giles, worse luck, and so long as you behave -yourself, I'll give you roof and board, though you are not a nice -man to have about the house, but money you shan't have. I'll see Mr. -Mask first. He's looking after my property, and if you----" - -"I'll do what I like," said Giles, wincing at the name of Mask; "if I -wasn't your husband, you'd chuck me, I 'spose." - -"I would," said Mrs. Merry, setting her mouth, "but you're -married to me, worse luck. I can't get rid of you. See here, -Giles, you go away and leave me and Cain alone, and I'll give you -five pounds." - -"I want five hundred," said Giles, "I'll stop here as long as I like. -I'm quite able to save myself from being accused of Strode's murder. -As to Cain," Giles chuckled, "he's taken up with a business you won't -like, Selina?" - -"What is it?--oh, what is it?" gasped Mrs. Merry, clasping her hands. - -"The Salvation Army." - -"What! Has he joined the Salvation Army?" - -"Yes," sneered the father; "he chucked the circus at Chelmsford, and -said it was a booth of Satan. Now he's howling about the street in a -red jersey, and talking pious." - -Mrs. Merry raised her thin hands to heaven. "I thank God he has found -the light," she said solemnly, "I'm Methodist myself, but I hear the -Army does much good. If the Army saves Cain's immortal soul," said the -woman, weeping fast, "I'll bless its work on my bended knees. I -believe Cain will be a comfort to me after all. Where are you going, -Giles--not to the drawing-room?" - -"As far as the door to listen," growled Merry. "I'm sick of -hearing you talk pious. I'll come and stop here, and twist Cain's -neck if he prays at me." - -"Trouble--trouble," wailed Mrs. Merry, wringing her hands, "I -wish you'd go. Cain and me would be happier without you, whatever -you may say, Giles, or Signor Antonio, or whatever wickedness you -call yourself. Oh, I was a fool to marry you!" - -Giles looked at her queerly. "Give me five hundred pounds, and I -won't trouble you again," he said, "meanwhile"--he moved towards the -door. Mrs. Merry made a bound like a panther and caught him. - -"No," she said, "you shan't listen." - -Giles swept her aside like a fly, and she fell on the floor. Then -with a contemptuous snort he left the kitchen and went into the -passage which led to the front. On the right of this was the door of -the drawing-room, and as both walls and door were thin, Mr. Merry had -no difficulty in overhearing what was going on within. Could his eyes -have seen through a deal board, he would have beheld an old lady -seated in the best arm-chair, supporting herself on an ebony crutch. -She wore a rich black silk, and had white hair, a fresh complexion, a -nose like the beak of a parrot, and a firm mouth. The expression of -the face was querulous and ill-tempered, and she was trying to bring -Eva round to her views on the subject of Saltars' marriage. The girl -sat opposite her, very pale, but with quite as determined an -expression as her visitor. - -"You're a fool," said Lady Ipsen, striking her crutch angrily on the -ground. "I am your grandmother, and speak for your good." - -"It is rather late to come and speak for my good, now," said Eva with -great spirit; "you have neglected me for a long time." - -"I had my reasons," said the other sharply. "Jane, your mother, -married Strode against my will. He was of good birth, certainly, but -he had no money, and besides was a bad man." - -"There is no need to speak evil of the dead." - -"The man's being dead doesn't make him a saint, Eva. But I'll say no -more about him, if you'll only listen to reason." - -"I have listened, and you have my answer," said Eva quietly; "I am -engaged to Allen Hill, and Allen Hill I intend to marry." - -"Never, while I have a breath of life," said the old woman angrily. -"Do you think I am going to let Saltars marry this circus woman? -No! I'll have him put in gaol first. He shall not disgrace the -family in this way. Our sons take wives from theatres and -music-halls," said Lady Ipsen grimly, "but the sawdust is lower -than either. I shan't allow the future head of the house to -disgrace himself." - -"All this has nothing to do with me," said Eva. - -"It has everything to do with you," said Lady Ipsen quickly; "don't I -tell you that Saltars, since he saw you at that Mrs. Palmer's, has -taken a fancy to you? It would take very little for you to detach him -from this wretched Miss Lorry." - -"I don't want to, Lady Ipsen!" - -"Call me grandmother." - -"No. You have never been a grandmother to me. I will be now," Lady -Ipsen tried to soften her grim face; "I wish I'd seen you before," -she added, "you're a true Delham, with very little of that bad -Strode blood in you, unless in the obstinacy you display. I'll -take you away from this Mrs. Palmer, Eva----" - -"I have no wish to leave Mrs. Palmer." - -"You must. I won't have a granddaughter of mine remain in a -situation with a common woman." - -"Leave Mrs. Palmer alone, Lady Ipsen. She is a good woman, and when -my relatives forsook me she took me up. If you had ever loved me, -or desired to behave as you should have done, you would have come -to help me when my father was murdered. And now," cried Eva, rising -with flashing eyes, "you come when I am settled, to get me to help -you with your schemes. I decline." - -The old woman, very white and with glittering eyes, rose. "You intend -then to marry Allen Hill?" - -"Yes, I do." - -"Well then, you can't," snapped the old woman; "his mother isn't -respectable." - -"How dare you say that?" demanded Eva angrily. - -"Because I'm accustomed to speak my mind," snapped Lady Ipsen, -glaring; "it is not a chit like you will make me hold my peace. Mrs. -Hill was in our family as a governess before your father married my -daughter Jane." - -"What of that?" - -"Simply this: a valuable diamond necklace was lost--an heirloom. I -believe Mrs. Hill stole it." - -Eva laughed. "I don't believe that for one moment," she said -scornfully. "Mrs. Hill is a good, kind, sweet lady." - -"Lady she is, as she comes of good stock. Sweet I never thought her, -and kind she may be to you, seeing she is trying to trap you into -marrying her miserable son----" - -"Don't you call Allen miserable," said Eva, annoyed; "he is the best -man in the world, and worth a dozen of Lord Saltars." - -"That would not be difficult," said Lady Ipsen, sneering; "Saltars is -a fool and a profligate." - -"And you expect me to marry him?" - -"To save him from disgracing the family." - -"The Delham family is nothing to me," said Eva proudly; "look after -the honour of the family yourself, Lady Ipsen. As to this talk about -Mrs. Hill, I don't believe it." - -"Ask her yourself, then." - -"I shall do so, and even, if what you say is true, which I don't -believe, I shall still marry Allen." - -"Eva," the old lady dropped into her seat, "don't be hard on me. I -am old. I wish you well. It is true what I say about Mrs. Hill. You -can't marry her son." - -"But I can, and I intend to." - -"Oh, this marriage--this disgraceful marriage!" cried the old woman -in despair, "how can I manage to stop it. This Miss Lorry will be -married to Saltars soon, if I can't put an end to his infatuation." - -Eva shrugged her shoulders. "I can give you no help." - -"You might plead with Saltars." - -"No. I can't do that. It is his business, not mine. Why don't -you offer Miss Lorry a sum of money to decline the match?" - -"Because she's bent upon being Lady Saltars, and will stop at -nothing to achieve her end. I would give five hundred--a thousand -pounds to stop the marriage. But Miss Lorry can't be bribed." - -It was at this point that Giles opened the door softly and looked -in. "Make it fifteen hundred, your ladyship, and I'll stop the -marriage," he said impudently. - -"Giles," cried Eva, rising indignantly, "how dare you----?" - -"Because I've been listening, and heard a chance of making money." - -Mrs. Merry burst in at her husband's heels. "And I couldn't stop -him from listening, Miss Eva," she said, weeping; "he's a brute. -Don't give him the money, your ladyship; he's a liar." - -"I'm not," said Giles coolly, "for fifteen hundred pounds I can -stop this marriage. I have every reason to hate Miss Lorry. She's -been playing low down on me, in writing to you, Miss Strode, and -it's time she learned I won't be put on. Well, your ladyship?" - -The old woman, who had kept her imperious black eyes fixed on Giles, -nodded. "Can you really stop the marriage?" - -"Yes I can, and pretty sharp too." - -"Then do so and you'll have the fifteen hundred pounds." - -"Will you give me some writing to that effect?" - -"Yes," said Lady Ipsen, becoming at once a business woman; "get me -some ink and paper, Eva." - -"Stop," said Giles politely--so very politely that his poor wife -stared. "I don't doubt your ladyship's word. Promise me to send to -this address," he handed a bill containing the next place where -Stag's Circus would perform, "one thousand five hundred in notes, and -I'll settle the matter." - -"I'll bring the money myself," said Lady Ipsen, putting away the bill; -"you don't get the money till I know the truth. How can you stop the -marriage? Tell me now." - -"Oh, I don't mind that," said Giles, shrugging. "I'm sure you -won't break your word, and even if you were inclined to you -can't, if you want to stop the marriage. You can't do without -me." - -"Speak out, man," said Lady Ipsen sharply. - -"Well then----" began Giles and then hesitated, as he looked at poor -faded Mrs. Merry in her black stuff dress. "Selina, you give me fifteen -hundred pounds and I'll not speak." - -"What have I got to do with it?" asked his wife, staring. - -"It will be worth your while to pay me," said Merry threateningly. - -"I can't and I won't, whatever you may say. Tell Lady Ipsen what you -like. Your wickedness hasn't anything to do with me." - -"You'll see," he retorted, turning to the old lady. "I've given you -the chance. Lady Ipsen, I accept your offer. Lord Saltars can't marry -Miss Lorry, because that lady----" - -"Well, man--well." - -"That lady," said Giles, "is married already." - -"Who to?" asked Eva, while Lady Ipsen's eyes flashed. - -"To me," said Merry; "I married her years ago, before I met Selina." - -"Then I am free--free," cried Eva's nurse; "oh, thank heaven!" and -she fell down on the floor in a faint, for the first and last time in -her life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE DIAMONDS - - -At seven o'clock that same evening Allen and his American friend were -walking to Mrs. Palmer's to dine. As yet, Allen knew nothing of what -had transpired at Misery Castle, for Eva was keeping the story till -they met. But as the two men passed the little inn they saw Giles -Merry descend from a holiday-making _char-à-banc_. Two or three men -had just passed into the inn, no doubt to seek liquid refreshment. -Allen knew Merry's face, as Mrs. Merry had shown him a photograph of -Signor Antonio in stage dress, which she had obtained from Cain. The -man was a handsome and noticeable blackguard, and moreover his good -looks were reproduced in Cain. Therefore young Hill knew him at once, -and stepped forward. - -"Good evening, Mr. Merry," he said; "I have long wished to meet you." - -Giles looked surly. "My name is Signor Antonio, monsieur," he said. - -"Oh," mocked Allen, "and being Italian you speak English and French -badly?" - -"What do you want?" demanded Giles savagely, and becoming the English -gipsy at once. "I've no time to waste?" - -"Why did you send that cross to Mr. Hill?" - -Giles grinned. "Just to give him a fright," he said. "I knew he -was a milk-and-water fool, as I saw a lot of him in the old -days, when I did Strode's dirty work." - -"You dug up the wooden hand?" - -"No, I didn't. Butsey, who was on the watch, saw Hill plant it, -and dug it up. He brought it to me, and I gave it to Father Don. -Then Butsey stole it back, and passed it along to that young -woman you're going to marry." - -"I guess," said Horace at this point, "you'd best speak civil of -Miss Strode. I'm not taking any insolence this day." - -Allen nodded approval, and Giles cast a look over the big limbs of -the American. Apparently, strong man as he was, he thought it -would be best not to try conclusions with such a giant. "I wish -I'd met you in Father Don's den," he said. "I'd have smashed that -handsome face of yours." - -"Two can play at that game," said Allen quietly; "and now, Mr. -Merry, or Signor Antonio, or whatever you choose to call -yourself, why shouldn't I hand you over to Wasp?" - -"You can't bring any charge against me." - -"Oh, can't I? You know something about this murder----" - -"I was playing my turn at the circus in Westhaven when the shot -was fired," said Giles coolly. - -"I didn't say you shot the man yourself; but you know who did." - -"No, I don't," said Merry, his face growing dark; "if I did know -the man, I'd make him a present. I'd like to have killed Strode -myself. He played me many a dirty trick, and I said I'd be even -with him. But some one else got in before me. As to arrest," he -went on sneeringly, "don't you think I'd be such a fool as to come -down here, unless I was sure of my ground. Arrest me indeed!" - -"I can on suspicion. You're in with the Perry Street gang." - -Giles cast a look towards the inn and laughed. "Well, you've got to -prove that I and the rest have done wrong, before you can run us all -in." - -"The wooden hand----" - -"Oh, we know all about that, and who stole it," said Giles meaningly. - -Allen started. He saw well enough that he could not bring Giles to -book without mentioning the name of his father. Therefore he changed -his mind about calling on Wasp to interfere, and contented himself -with a warning. "You'd best clear out of this by to-morrow," said he -angrily. "I shan't have you, troubling your wife." - -"My wife! Ha--ha!" Merry seemed to find much enjoyment in the remark. - -"Or Miss Strode either." - -"Oh," sneered the man insolently, "you'd best see Miss Strode. She may -have something interesting to tell you. But I can't stay talking here -for ever. I'm going back to Shanton to-night. Come round at eleven," -he said to the driver of the _char-à-banc_. "We'll drive back in the -moonlight." - -"I think you'd better," said Allen grimly; "you stop here to-morrow, -and whatever you may know about a person, whose name need not be -mentioned, I'll have you run in." - -"Oh, I'll be gone by to-morrow," sneered Merry again, and took his cap -off with such insolence that Horace longed to kick him, "don't you -fret yourself. I'm a gentleman of property now, and intend to cut the -sawdust and go to South Africa--where the diamonds come from," he -added with an insolent laugh, and then swung into the inn, leaving -Allen fuming with anger. But there was no use in making a disturbance, -as the man could make things unpleasant for Mr. Hill, so Allen -walked away with Horace to Mrs. Palmer's. - -It would have been wiser had he entered the inn, for in the -coffee-room were three men, whom he might have liked to meet. -These were Father Don smartly dressed as a clergyman, Red Jerry as a -sailor, and Foxy in a neat suit of what are known as hand-me-downs. -The trio looked most respectable, and if Jerry's face was somewhat -villainous, and Foxy's somewhat sly, the benevolent looks of Father -Don were above suspicion. Giles sat down beside these at a small -table, and partook of the drinks which had been ordered. The landlord -was under the impression that the three men were over on a jaunt -from Shanton, and intended to return in the moonlight. Merry had -met them at the door, and now came in to tell them his plans. - -"I've arranged matters," he said in a low voice to Father Don, "the -groom Jacobs is courting some young woman he's keeping company with, -and the women servants have gone to a penny reading the vicar is -giving." - -"What of young Hill and his friend?" - -"They are dining with Mrs. Palmer. The house is quite empty, and -contains only Mr. and Mrs. Hill. I have been in the house before, -and know every inch of it. I'll tell you how to get in." - -"You'll come also?" said Foxy suspiciously. - -"No," replied Giles. "I'll stop here. I've done enough for the money. -If you're fools enough to be caught, I shan't be mixed up in the -matter." - -"We won't be caught," said Father Don with a low laugh; "Jerry will -keep guard at the window, and Foxy and I will enter." - -"How?" asked the sharp-faced man. - -"By the window," said Giles. "I explained to Father Don here, in -London. Hill has taken up his quarters in a Japanese room on the -west side of the house, just over the wall. There are French -windows opening on to the lawn. You can steal up and the grass -will deaden the sound of footsteps. It goes right up to the -window. That may be open. If not, Jerry can burst it, and then you -and Don can enter." - -"But if Hill isn't alone?" - -"Well then, act as you think best. Mrs. Hill's twice the man her -husband is. She might give the alarm. But there's no one in the -house, and she'll have to sing out pretty loudly before the alarm -can be given to the village." - -"There won't be any alarm," said Father Don calmly. "I intend to make -use of that paper I got from you. Where did you get it, Merry?" - -"From Butsey. I found him with Strode's blue pocket-book, and made -a grab at it. I saw notes. But Butsey caught those and bolted. I -got the book and some papers. The one I gave you, Don, will make -Hill give up the diamonds, if he has them." - -"He must have them," said Don decidedly, "we know from the letter -sent to Mask, and which was left at his office by Butsey, that the -hand could be opened. I did open it and found nothing. I believe -that Strode stored the diamonds therein. If Hill stole the hand, -and took it home, he must have found the diamonds, and they are -now in his possession. I expect he looked for them." - -"No," said Merry grimly, "he was looking for that paper you intend -to show him. He'll give up the diamonds smart enough, when he -sees that. Then you can make for Westhaven----" - -"What of the charry-bang?" asked Jerry in heavy tones. - -"That's a blind. It will come round at eleven, but by that time we -will all be on our way to Westhaven. If there is pursuit, Wasp and -his friend will follow in the wrong direction. Then Father Don can -make for Antwerp, and later we can sell the diamonds. But no -larks," said Merry, showing his teeth, "or there will be trouble." - -"Suppose young Hill and his friend tell the police?" - -"Oh," said Giles, grinning, "they will do so at the risk of the -contents of that paper being made public. Don't be a fool, Don, -you've got the whole business in your own hands. I don't want a -row, as I have to meet a lady in a few days," Giles grinned again, -when he thought of Lady Ipsen, "and we have to do business." - -So the plan was arranged, and after another drink Father Don and -stroll in the village to "see the venerable church in the -moonlight," as the pseudo clergyman told the landlord. But when out -of sight, the trio changed the direction of their walk, and made -for "The Arabian Nights" at the end of the village. Departing from -the high-road they stole across a large meadow, and, in a dark -corner, climbed the wall. Father Don was as active as any of them, -in spite of his age. When the three rascals were over the wall and -standing on a smoothly-shaven lawn, they saw the range of the Roman -pillars, but no light in the windows. "It's on the west side," said -Don in a whisper; "come along, pals." - -The three crept round the black bulk of the house and across the -drive. All was silent and peaceful within the boundary of the wall. -The moonlight silvered the lawns and flower-beds and made beautiful -the grotesque architecture of the house. A few steps taken in a -cat-like fashion brought the thieves to the west side. They here saw -a light glimmering through three French windows which opened on to a -narrow stone terrace. From this, the lawn rolled smoothly to the -flower-beds, under the encircling red brick wall. Father Don pointed -to the three windows. - -"The middle one," he said quietly; "see if it's open, Foxy. If not, -we'll have to make a certain noise. And look inside if you can." - -Foxy stole across the lawn and terrace and peered in. After a time, -he delicately tried the window and shook his head. He then stole back -to report, "Hill is lying on the sofa," he said, "and his wife is -seated beside him. He's crying about something." - -"We'll give him something to cry about soon," said Father Don, feeling -for the paper which he had received from Giles. "Smash the middle -window in, Jerry." - -Without the least concealment the huge man rushed up the slope -and hurled his bulk against the window. The frail glass gave way and -he fairly fell into the centre of the room. With a shrill cry of -terror, Hill sprang from the sofa, convulsively clutching the hand -of his wife, while Mrs. Hill, after the first shock of alarm, faced -the intruders boldly. By this time Father Don with Foxy behind him -was bowing to the disturbed couple. Jerry took himself out of the -room, and guarded the broken window. - -"Who are you? what do you want?" demanded Mrs. Hill. "If you don't -go I'll ring for the servants." - -"I am afraid you will give yourself unnecessary trouble," said Don -suavely. "We know the servants are out." - -"What do you want?" - -"We'll come to that presently. Our business has to do with your -husband, Mr. Hill"--Father Don looked at the shivering wretch. - -"I never harmed you--I don't know you," mumbled Hill. "Go away--leave -me alone--what do you want?" - -"We'll never get on in this way.--No, you don't," added Don, as Mrs. -Hill tried to steal to the door, "Go and sit down by your good -husband," and he enforced this request by pointing a revolver. - -"I am not to be frightened by melodrama," said Mrs. Hill scornfully. - -"Sit down, Sarah--sit down," said Hill, his teeth chattering. - -The woman could not help casting a contemptuous look on the coward, -even though she fancied, she owed so much to him. But, as she was a -most sensible woman, she saw that it would be as well to obey. "I am -ready to hear," she said, sitting by Hill, and putting her strong arm -round the shivering, miserable creature. - -"I'll come to the point at once," said Don, speaking to Hill, "as -we have not much time to lose. Mr. Hill, you have forty thousand -pounds' worth of diamonds here. Give them up!" - -Hill turned even paler than he was. "How do you know that?" he asked. - -"It can't be true," put in Mrs. Hill spiritedly. "If you are talking -of Mr. Strode's diamonds, my husband hasn't got them." - -"Your husband stole the wooden hand from the dead," said Foxy, with -his usual snarl. "He took it home and opened it." - -"I did not know it contained the diamonds," babbled Hill. - -"No. You thought it contained a certain document," said Don, and -produced a paper from his pocket, "a blue paper document, not very -large--of such a size as might go into a wooden hand, provided the -hand was hollow as it was. Is this it?" - -Hill gave a scream and springing up bounded forward. "Give it to -me--give it!' he cried. - -"For the diamonds," said Father Don, putting the paper behind him. - -"You shall have them. I hid them in this room--I don't want them, but -that paper--it is mine." - -"I know that--signed with your name, isn't it? Well, bring out the -diamonds, and, when you hand them over----" - -"You'll give me the paper?" - -Foxy shook his head as Father Don looked inquiringly at him. "No, -we must keep that paper, so as to get away--otherwise you'll be -setting the police on our track." - -"I swear I won't--I swear----" Hill dropped on his knees, "I swear----" - -His wife pulled him to his feet. "Try and be a man, Lawrence," she -said. "What is this document?" - -"Nothing--nothing--but I must have it," cried Hill jerking himself -away. He ran across the room, and fumbled at the lock of a cabinet. -"See--see--I have the diamonds! I found them in the hand--I put them -into a canvas bag--here--here--" his fingers shook so that he could -hardly open the drawer. Foxy came forward and kindly helped him. -Between the two, the drawer was opened. Hill flung out a mass of -papers, which strewed the floor. Then from beneath these, he hauled a -small canvas bag tied at the mouth and sealed. "All the diamonds are -here," he said, bringing this to Don and trying to open it. -"Forty thousand pounds--forty--for God's sake--" he broke off -hysterically--"the paper, the paper I signed!" - -Don took possession of the bag and was about to hand over the -document, when Foxy snatched it. "We'll send this from the -Continent," he said, "while we have this, you won't be able to set -the peelers on us." - -Hill began to cry and again fell on his knees, but Father Don took no -notice of him. He emptied the contents of the bag on the table and -there the jewels flashed in the lamp-light, a small pile of very fine -stones. While he gloated over them, Mrs. Hill laid her hand on Foxy's -arm: "What is in that paper?" she asked sternly. - -"Don't tell her--don't tell her!" cried Hill. - -"Lawrence!" - -But he put his hands to his ears and still cried and grovelled. "I -shall go mad if you tell her! I shall--ah--oh--ugh--!" he suddenly -clutched at his throat and reeled to the sofa. - -Mrs. Hill took little notice of him. "Read me the document," she said. - -"I can almost repeat it from memory," said Foxy, putting the paper -into his pocket; "it's simply a confession by your husband that he -stole a certain necklace belonging to----" - -"The Delham heirloom!" cried Mrs. Hill, turning grey, and recoiling. - -"Yes, and also a promise to withdraw from seeking to marry Lady Jane -Delham, and to marry you." - -"Oh!" Mrs. Hill turned such a withering look on her miserable husband, -that he shrank back and covered his eyes. "So this is the real reason -of your chivalry?" - -"Yes," said Father Don, who had placed the diamonds again in his bag, -and stood up, "I heard some of the story from Giles Merry, and read -the rest in the signed document. It was Hill who stole the necklace. -He took the key from the school-room, where it had been left by Lady -Ipsen. He opened the safe, and collared the necklace. Near the door, -he left a handkerchief of yours, Mrs. Hill, so that, if there was -danger, you might be accused. Strode found the handkerchief, and -knowing Hill had possessed it, made him confess. Then he made Hill -sign the confession that he had stolen the necklace, and also made him -promise to marry you." - -Mrs. Hill sank down with a stern, shamed look, "So this was your -chivalry," she said, looking again at her husband, "you stole the -necklace--you let me bear the shame--you tried to incriminate me--you -pretended to wed me to save me from starvation, and--oh, you--you -shameless-creature!" she leaped, and made as though she would have -struck Hill; the man cowered with a cry of alarm like a trapped -rabbit. - -"What became of the necklace?" she asked Don sharply. - -"Strode made Hill sell it, and they divided the profits." - -"Eva's father also," moaned Mrs. Hill, covering her face, "oh, -shame--shame--shall I ever be able to look on this man's face again!" - -Hill attempted to excuse himself, "I didn't get much money," he -wailed. "I let Strode take the lot. He carried the confession in his -wooden hand--that's why I took it. I stole the hand and opened -it--but the confession wasn't in it--I found the diamonds, and I -have given them to you--let me have the paper!" he bounded to his -feet, and snatching a dagger from a trophy of arms on the wall made -for Foxy, "I'll kill you if you don't give it to me!" - -Father Don dodged behind a chair, while Foxy, who was right in the -centre of the room, ran for the window, and, bursting past Jerry, -raced down the lawn with Hill after him, the dagger upraised. Round -and round they went, while Mrs. Hill stood on the terrace, looking on -with a deadly smile. Had Hill been struck down, she would have -rejoiced. Don twitched the arm of Jerry. - -"Let's cut," he said; "I've got the swag, Foxy can look after -himself," and these two gentlemen left the house hurriedly. - -Mrs. Hill saw them disappear without anxiety. The blow she had -received seemed to have benumbed her faculties. To think that she had -been so deceived and tricked. With a stony face she watched Foxy -flying round the lawn, with the insane man--for Hill appeared to be -mad--after him. Foxy, in deadly terror of his life, seeing his pals -disappear, tore the document from his pocket, threw it down, and ran -panting towards the wall. While he scaled it, Hill picked up the -paper and tore it, with teeth and hands, into a thousand shreds. The -three scoundrels had disappeared, and Mrs. Hill looked down coldly on -her frantic husband. Hill danced up to the terrace, and held out his -hands. "Happiness--happiness, I am safe." - -"Coward," she said in a terrible voice. Her husband looked at her, -and then began to laugh weirdly. Then with a cry, he dropped. - -"I hope he is dead," said Mrs. Hill, looking down on him with scorn. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -BUTSEY'S STORY - - -There was no excitement in Wargrove next day over the burglars who -had entered "The Arabian Nights," for the simple reason that the -village knew nothing about the matter. But a rumour was current, that -Mr. Hill had gone out of his mind. No one was astonished, as he had -always been regarded as queer. Now, it appeared, he was stark, -staring mad, and no longer the harmless eccentric the village had -known for so long. And the rumour was true. - -"It is terrible to think of the punishment which has befallen him, -Allen," said Mrs. Hill the next morning; "but can we call it -undeserved?" - -"I suppose not," answered her son gloomily. "I wish I had remained at -home last night, mother." - -"Things would have been worse, had you remained. There would have been -a fight." - -"I would have saved Eva's diamonds, at all events." - -"Let the diamonds go, Hill," chimed in Parkins, who formed a third -in the conversation, "they were come by dishonestly, and would have -brought no luck. You come out to Bolivia, and fix up the mine. Then -you can make your own coin, and marry Miss Strode." - -"But you forget, Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill, "I am now rich, and -Allen need not go to America." - -"No, mother," said Allen hastily, "I'll go. You will do much more -good with my father's money than I can. Besides----" he hesitated, -and looked at Horace. The American interpreted the look. - -"Guess you want a little private conversation," he said; "well -I'll light out and have a smoke. You can call me when you want me -again," and Mr. Parkins, producing his pipe, left the room. - -"My poor mother," said Allen, embracing her, "don't look so sad. It is -very terrible and---- - -"You can't console me, Allen," said the poor woman bitterly, "so do -not try to. To think that I should have believed in that man all -these years. He was a thief--doubly a thief; he not only robbed the -Delhams of the necklace, but robbed the dead, and me of my good -name." - -"I almost think the dead deserved to be robbed," said Allen; "I begin -to believe, mother, that Strode was my father's evil genius as he said -he was. Why should my father steal this necklace, when he had plenty -of money?" - -"He had not at the time. I think his father kept him short. He took -the necklace, I expect, under the strong temptation of finding the key -in the school-room." - -"I believe Strode urged him to steal it," said Allen, "and at all -events Strode was not above profiting by the theft. And it was Strode -who brought about the marriage----" - -"By threats," said Mrs. Hill grimly, "I expect, Strode swore he would -reveal the truth, unless Lawrence married me. And I thought Lawrence -acted so, out of chivalry." - -"But if Strode had revealed the truth he would have incriminated -himself." - -"Ah, but, as I learn, he waited till after I was married before he -disposed of the necklace. Then he sold it through Father Don, who -was his associate in villainy. However, Strode is dead and your -father is mad. I wonder what fate will befall Merry and those -wretches he associates with?" - -"Oh, their sins will come home to them, never fear," said Allen, in a -prophetic vein. "I suppose it is best to let the matter rest." - -"Certainly. Father Don and his two associates have got away. What -about Merry?" - -"He went almost at once to Shanton, and did not pay for the -_char-à-banc_. The owner is in a fine rage and drove back to -Shanton at midnight, vowing to summons Merry, who was responsible -for its ordering." - -"Well, they are out of our life at last," said his mother, "we now -know the secret which caused your unhappy father to try and -murder Strode, and did make him steal the hand. The confession -has been destroyed, so no one can say anything. Merry will not -speak----" - -"No; that's all right. Merry is going to receive money from old -Lady Ipsen, for stopping the marriage of Saltars with Miss Lorry. -I expect he will go to Africa as he says. He'll hold his tongue -and so will the others. But they have the diamonds, and poor Eva -receives nothing." - -"I agree with Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill quickly, "the jewels -were come by dishonestly, and would have brought no good fortune. -Will you tell Eva anything, Allen?" - -"No. I'll tell her as little as possible. No one, but you, I, and -Parkins, know of the events of last night. My poor father has -been reported ill for some time and has always been so eccentric, -so it will surprise no one to hear he has gone mad. We will place -him in some private asylum, and----" - -"No, Allen," said Mrs. Hill firmly, "the poor soul is harmless. -After all, wickedly as he has acted, he has been severely -punished, and is my husband. I'll keep him here and look after him -till the end comes--and that won't be long," sighed Mrs. Hill. - -"Very good, mother, you shall act as you think fit. But we know -the truth now." - -"Yes, save who murdered Mr. Strode." - -"I believe Jerry did, or Giles." - -"They both deny doing so." - -"Of course," said Allen contemptuously, "to save their own skins. -I shall go up to London, mother, and tell Mr. Mask what has taken -place." - -But there was no need for Allen to go to town. That afternoon the -lawyer arrived and with him a small boy with one eye. The lad was -neatly dressed, he had his hair cut, and his face washed. In -spite of his one eye and white cheeks he looked a very smart -youngster, and grinned in a friendly manner at Allen and Horace. - -"This," said Mr. Mask, leading the lad into the room, where the -young men were smoking after luncheon, "is Master Train----" - -"Butsey?" said Allen. - -"Oh no," replied Mask gravely, "he is a gentleman of property now -and is living on his money. You mustn't call him by so low a name -as Butsey." - -The boy grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I saiy, how long's -this a-goin' on?" he inquired; "you've been shying fun at me all day." - -"We won't shy fun any more," said Mr. Mask in his melancholy voice. "I -have brought you here to make a clean breast of it." - -"About the diamonds?" - -"We know about the diamonds," said Horace. "I guess Father Don's got -them." - -"Saikes! hes he?" said Butsey regretfully; "that comes of me tellin' -about the letter I guv to you"--this was to Mask--"if he hadn't opened -the hand, he wouldn't have got 'em." - -"You are quite wrong, Butsey," said Allen, rising. "Horace, I'll -leave the boy in your keeping. Mr. Mask, will you come with me into -the next room?" - -Rather surprised, Mask did so, and was speedily put in possession -of the terrible story. He quite agreed that the matter should be -kept quiet. "Though I hope it won't be necessary to rake it up when -Butsey is tried for murder." - -"What! did that boy shoot Mr. Strode?" - -"I think so," said the lawyer, looking puzzled; "but to tell you the -truth I'm not sure. I can't get the boy to speak freely. He said he -would do so, only in the presence of you and Parkins. That is why I -brought him down." - -"How did you get hold of him?" - -"Through one of the stolen notes. Butsey presented himself at the -bank and cashed ten pounds. He was arrested and brought to me. I -gave bail for him, and brought him to explain." - -"Where did he get the notes?" - -"Out of the blue pocket-book, he says--in which case he must have -committed the murder. Not for his own sake," added Mask quickly. "I -fear the poor little wretch has been made a cat's-paw by the others." - -"Well," said Allen, drawing a long breath of astonishment, "wonders -will never cease. I never thought Butsey was guilty." - -"I can't be sure yet if he is. But, at all events, he certainly knows -who is the culprit, and, to save his own neck, he will confess." - -"But would the law hang a boy like that even if guilty?" - -"I don't think Butsey will give the law the chance of trying the -experiment. He's a clever little reptile. But we had better -return and examine him. Your mother----?" - -"She is with my poor father." - -"Is that quite safe?" asked Mask anxiously. "Perfectly. He is -harmless." - -Mask looked sympathetic, although he privately thought that -madness was the best thing which could have befallen Mr. Hill, -seeing he had twice brought himself within the clutches of the -law. At least there was now no danger of his being punished for -theft or attempted murder, whatever might be said by those who had -escaped with the diamonds; and certainly Mrs. Hill would be -relieved of a very troublesome partner. Had Hill remained sane, -she would not have lived with him after discovering how he had -tricked her into marriage, and had traded on her deep gratitude -all these years. Now, by tending him in his hopeless state, she -was heaping coals of fire on his head, and proving herself to be, -what Mask always knew she truly was, a good woman. - -So, in Allen's company, he returned to the room where Parkins was -keeping watch over Master Train, and found that brilliant young -gentleman smoking a cigarette. "Produced it from a silver case -too," said the amused American. "This is a mighty smart boy. I -guess you got rid of a lot of that money, bub?" - -"I cashed two notes," said Butsey coolly, "but the third trapped -me. But I don't care. I've had a good time!" - -"And I expect you'll pass the rest of your life in gaol." - -"What's that?" said Butsey, not turning a hair; "in gaol?--not -me. I've been in quod once and didn't like it. I ain't a-goin' -again. No, sir, you give me some cash, Mr. Hill, and I'll go to -the States." - -"They'll lynch you there, as sure as a gun," said Horace, -grinning. - -Allen was quite taken aback by the coolness of the prisoner, for -a prisoner Butsey virtually was. Mask leaned back nursing his -foot, and did not take much part in the conversation. He -listened to Allen examining the culprit, and only put a word in -now and then. - -"You don't seem to realise your position," said Hill sharply. - -"Oh yuss, I does," said Butsey, calmly blowing a cloud of smoke, -"you wants to get the truth out of me. Well, I'll tell it, if -you'll let me go. I dessay our friend here"--he nodded to -Mask--"can arrange with the peelers about that note." - -"It's probable I can," said Mask, tickled at the impudence of the -boy; "but wouldn't you rather suffer for stealing, than for -murder?" - - - -The boy jumped up and became earnest at once. "See here," he said, -wetting his finger, "that's wet," and then he wiped it on his -jacket, "that's dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie. I didn't shoot -the old bloke. S'elp me, I didn't!" - -"Who did, then? Do you know?" - -"I might know; but you've got to make it worth my while to split." - -Allen took the boy by the collar and shook him. "You young imp," he -said, "you'll tell everything you know, or pass some time in gaol." - -"Make me tell, then," said Butsey, and put out his tongue. - -"Suppose I hand you over to Father Don and your own parent?" - -"Can't, sir. Th' gang's broke up. They'll go abroad with them -diamonds, and start in some other country. 'Sides, I ain't going in -for that business again. I'm going to be respectable, I am. And I did -git you out of the den, sir," said Butsey more earnestly. - -Allen dropped his hand from the boy's collar. "You certainly did -that--at the request of Miss Lorry. What of her?" - -"Nothing but good," said Butsey, flushing; "she's the best and -kindest laidy in the world. I ain't a-goin' to saiy anything of -her." - -"I don't want you to talk of people who have nothing to do with -the matter in hand," said Hill; "but you must tell us about the -murder. If you don't----" - -"What am I a-goin' to get fur splitting?" asked Butsey in a -businesslike way. - -"I'll arrange that you won't go to gaol. You must remember, Master -Train," said Mask with deliberation, "that you are in a dangerous -position. The note you cashed was taken from a pocket-book which the -murdered man had on his person, when he was shot. How did you get -it, eh? The presumption is that you shot him." - -Butsey whistled between his teeth. "You can't frighten me," said -he, his one eye twinkling savagely; "but I'll tell you everything, -'cept who shot the bloke." - -"Huh," said Horace. "I guess we can ravel out that, when we know -what you have to say. But you speak straight, young man, or I'll -hide you proper." - -"Lor," said Butsey coolly, "I've bin hided by father and old Don -much wuss than you can hammer. But I'll tell--jest you three keep -your ears open. Where 'ull I begin?" - -"From the beginning," said Allen; "how did the gang come to know that -Strode had the diamonds?" - -"It wos father told 'em," said Butsey candidly. "Father's Red -Jerry, an' a onener at that--my eye! He got into trouble here, and -cuts to furrein parts some years ago. In Africay he saw the dead -bloke." - -"Strode?" - -"Well, ain't I a-saiyin' of him?" snapped Butsey; "yuss--Strode. -Father comes 'ome in the saime ship es Strode and knows all about -'im having prigged diamonds in Africay." - -"What do you mean by prigged?" - -"Wot I saiy, in course. Strode got them diamonds wrong----" - -"I. D. B.," said Parkins. "I told you so, Hill." - -"Well then," went on Butsey, looking mystified at the mention of -the letters, "father didn't see why he shouldn't git the diamonds, -so he follered the dead bloke to this here country and come to -tell old Father Don in the Perry Street ken. Father Don and Foxy -both went in with father----" - -"To murder Strode?" said Allen. - -"Not much. They wanted to rob him, but didn't want to dance on -nothink. Father Don's a fly one. I was told about the job, an' -sent to watch the dead bloke. I watched him in London, and he wos -never out of my sight. He wos coming down to this here plaice on -Thursdaiy---" - -"How do you know that?" asked Mask. - -"Cause I knows the 'all porter at the Guelph Hotel, an' he tells -me," said Butsey calmly. "I cuts an' tells Father Don, and him -and father an' Foxy all come to Westhaven on Wednesday to see him -as is called Merry." - -"He's another of the gang?" - -"Rather. He's bin in with us fur years, he hes. And he wos doin' the -strong man at Stag's circus at Westhaven. Father Don, he come down, -knowing Merry 'ated Strode, to try and get him to do the robbin'." - -"Did Merry agree?" - -"In course he did, only too glad to get a shot at Strode----" - -"Do you mean to say Merry shot him?" - -"Naow," said Butsey, making a gesture of irritation, "let a cove -talk. I'll tell you if he shot him, if you'll let me. I saiy we -wos all down to fix things on Wednesdaiy, and I come along with a -blessed ragged kids' fresh air fund, so as to maike m'self saife, -if the police took a hand. I didn't want to be mixed with no gang, -having my good name to think of." - -Horace grinned and rubbed his hands, but Allen frowned. "Go on," he -said sharply, "and don't play the fool." - -"Oh, I'm a-goin' on," was the unruffled reply, "and I don't plaiy th' -fool without cause, d'ye see. Well, I wos at the station at Westhaven, -an' I sees Strode come. I went off to tell Merry, and he comes to the -station and talks to Strode." - -"That was on Wednesday?" - -"Yuss. Strode sold 'us and come down, though we didn't 'ope to 'ave -the pleasure of his company till Thursday. Well, I tried to 'ear -what Giles wos a-saiying, but he guves me a clip on the ear and -sends me spinnin', so I couldn't 'ear. I goes to complain to Father -Don, an' when I gits back, Strode's away and Merry too. He'd started -walkin' to Wargrove, a porter tole me. I wos about to foller, when -Merry, he comes up and tells me, he'll go himself." - -"That's a lie," said Allen; "Merry was doing the strong man that night -in the circus." - -"No, he wasn't," grinned the boy. "I went to the circus, havin' -nothin' to do, and I saw the strong man. It wos Cain Merry, his son, -he's like his father, and could do the fakements. No one knew but the -circus coves." - -"Then Merry----?" - -"He went after Strode. I told Father Don an' Foxy, an' they swore -awful. They couldn't start after him, as they didn't know what 'ud -happen, and Merry's an awful one when put out, so they waited along o' -me, d'ye see? Next daiy Merry come back, but said he'd left Strode -a-goin' to the Red Deeps." - -"What did Father Don do?" - -"He went to the Red Deeps an' found the dead bloke. Then he come back -and saw Merry. What he said to 'im I don't know: but Father Don sent -me with a telegram to send from the St. James's Street orfice, saiying -that Strode wouldn't be down till Friday. I think Father Don did that, -to give toime to Merry to get awaiy." - -"That was the telegram received by Miss Strode after nine on Thursday, -I think?" said Mask. - -"Yuss," said Butsey. "I sent it early an' the kid es took it to -Wargrove forgot it till laite. I comes down again from town, gits back -with the fresh air kids, saime night, to sell the peelers, an' nex' -mornin' I comes down agin to tell Mrs. Merry es Cain would be over -th' nex' daiy." - -"Why did you do that? Cain was in the house." - -"I knowed he wos. But Merry sent me to see if Miss Eva hed heard -o' the death. Then I cuts----" - -"One moment," said Allen, "if Father Don saw the man dead, why -didn't he take the wooden hand?" - -"Cause he didn't know it wos worth anythin' till Mr. Masks here spoke -at the inquest." - -"About its being delivered to get the diamonds?" said Mask; "quite -so. And you saw Mr. Hill bury it?" - -"Yuss. I wos told to watch him, es Merry said he knew a lot about -Strode, and if the wust come he might be accused----" - -"A clever plot. Well?" - -"I follered him and saw him bury something. I digs it up and takes -the cross es he put over it to mark it. Then I gives the 'and to -Father Don an' the cross to Merry. He sends it to Hill to frighten -him, and sends it through Cain. Then Father Don sees Mr. Mask, and -you knows the rest." - -"Not all, I guess," said Horace, stretching a long arm and shaking -the boy, "say straight, you--you imp. Did Merry shoot?" - -"Of course he did," replied Butsey cheerfully, "he hated Strode, an' -wanted to git them diamonds. Merry hed the blue pocket-book, fur -when I come down to see Miss Lorry at Shanton, I took the book from -Merry's box which wos in his room. He found me with it and took it -back, hammerin' me fur stealin'. But I got the notes," added Butsey -with satisfaction, "and I spent three." - -"Merry seems to be guilty," said Mr. Mask; "he was absent from the -circus on that night and let his son--who resembles, him closely--take -his place. He had the pocket-book and----" - -"Got the diamonds? No, he didn't," said Butsey briskly, "he didn't -know es the hand would open. I found that out from a letter I guv -you, Mr. Mask, and tole ole Father Don. He opened the hand--that wos -arter he saw you, Mr. Mask--but he foun' nothin'. Then he guessed es -Hill--your father, Mr. Allen--had got the diamonds, seein' he had the -han', while looking fur some paiper. An' Merry got the paiper out of -the pocket-book," said Butsey, "an' showed it to Don. Wot Don did -with it I dunno." - -"He got the diamonds with it," said Allen grimly, "and has escaped. -But I don't think Merry will. He's at Shanton now, as the circus is -again there by particular request of the townsfolk. We'll go over -to-night, Parkins, and see him perform: then we'll catch him and make -him confess." - -"Will you have him arrested?" asked Horace coolly. - -"We'll see when the time comes," said Allen shortly. "Mask----?" - -"I'll remain here and look after this boy, Master Train." - -Butsey made a grimace, but so the matter was arranged. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -MISS LORRY'S LAST APPEARANCE - - -There was no doubt that Stag's Circus was a great success at -Shanton. Within a comparatively short period it had played three -engagements in the little town, two performances each time, and on -every occasion the tent was full. Now it was the very last night, -as Stag announced; the circus would next turn its attention towards -amusing the North. Consequently the tent was crammed to its utmost -capacity, and Stag, loafing about in a fur coat, with a gigantic -cigar, was in a very good humour. - -Not so Miss Lorry. That lady was already dressed in riding-habit -and tall hat to show off the paces of her celebrated stallion White -Robin, and she sat in her caravan dressing-room fuming with anger. -Miss Lorry always insisted on having a dressing-room to herself, -although the accommodation in that way was small. But she had such -a temper and was such an attraction that the great Stag consented -she should be humoured in this way. She had a bottle of champagne -beside her and was taking more than was good for her, considering -she was about to perform with a horse noted for its bad temper. In -her hand Miss Lorry held an open letter which was the cause of her -wrath. It was from Saltars, written in a schoolboy hand, and -announced that he could never marry her, as he was now aware, -through the dowager Lady Ipsen, that she, Miss Lorry, was a married -woman. "I have been with the dowager to the church in London," said -the letter, "so I know there's no mistake. I think you've treated me -very badly. I loved you and would have made you my wife. Now -everything is off, and I'll go back and marry my cousin Eva Strode." - -There were a few more reproaches to the effect that the lady had -broken the writer's heart, and although these were badly expressed -and badly written, yet the accent of truth rang true. Miss Lorry knew -well that Saltars had really loved her, and would not have given her -up unless the result had been brought about by the machinations of -the dowager. She ground her teeth and crushed up the letter in her -hand. - -"I'm done for," she said furiously. "I'd have given anything to have -been Lady Saltars, and I could have turned that fool round my finger. -I've risked a lot to get the position, and here I'm sold by that -brute I married when I was a silly girl! I could kill him--kill him," -she muttered; "and as it is, I've a good mind to thrash him," and so -saying she grasped a riding-whip firmly. It was used to bring White -Robin to subjection, but Miss Lorry was quite bold enough to try its -effect on the human brute. - -Shortly she sent a message for Signor Antonio, and in a few minutes -Giles presented himself with a grin. He was ready to go on for his -performance, and the fleshings showed off his magnificent figure to -advantage. He looked remarkably handsome, as he faced the furious -woman coolly, and remarkably happy when he thought of a certain parcel -of notes he had that afternoon placed in the safe keeping of the -Shanton Bank. - -"Well, Bell," said he coolly, "so you know the worst, do you? You -wouldn't look in such a rage if you didn't." - -Miss Lorry raised her whip and brought it smartly across the eyes of -Signor Antonio. "You hound!" she said, in a concentrated voice of hate, -"I should like to kill you." - -Merry snatched at the whip, and, twisting it from her grip, threw it -on the floor of the caravan. "That's enough," he said in a quietly -dangerous voice. "You've struck me once. Don't do it again or I twist -your neck." - -"Oh no, you won't," said Miss Lorry, showing her fine white teeth; -"what do you mean by splitting?" - -"I was paid to do so," said Merry coolly; "so, now you know the worst, -don't keep me chattering here all night. I 'ave to go on soon." - -"I have my turn first," said Miss Lorry, glancing at a printed bill -pinned against the wall of the van. "I must speak out, or burst," she -put her hand to her throat as though she were choking. "You beast," she -cried furiously, "have I not suffered enough at your hands already?" - -"You were always a tigress," growled Merry, shrinking back before her -fury; "I married you when you was a slip of a girl----" - -"And a fool--a fool!" cried the woman, beating her breast; "oh, what a -fool I was! You know my father was a riding-master, and----" - -"And how you rode to show off to the pupils?" said Merry with a -coarse laugh. "I just do. It was the riding took me." - -"You came as a groom," panted Miss Lorry, fixing him with a steelly -glare, "and I was idiot enough to admire your good looks. I ran away -with you, and we were married----" - -"I did the straight thing," said Giles, "you can't deny that." - -"I wish I had died, rather than marry you," she said savagely. "I -found myself bound to a brute. You struck me--you ill-treated me -within a year of our marriage." - -Merry lifted a lock of his black hair and showed a scar. "You did -that," he said; "you flew at me with a knife." - -"I wish I'd killed you," muttered Miss Lorry. "And then you left me. I -found out afterwards you had married that farmer's daughter in -Wargrove because you got a little money with her. Then you left her -also, you brute, and with a baby. Thank God, I never bore you any -children! Ah, and you were in with that bad lot of Hill, and Strode, -and Father Don, who was kicked out of the army for cheating at cards. -You fell lower and lower, and when you found I was making money in the -circus you would have forced me to live with you again, but that I -learned of your Wargrove marriage. It was only my threat of bigamy -that kept you away." - -"You intended to commit bigamy too, with Lord Saltars," said Merry -sullenly, "and I was willing enough to let you. But you wrote to Miss -Strode saying you'd stop me going to Wargrove----" - -"So I could by threatening to prosecute you for bigamy." - -Merry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, what good would that do?" he -asked brutally. "I have confessed myself, and now you can do what -you like. Old Lady Ipsen paid me fifteen hundred pounds for -stopping your marriage with Saltars, and now it's off. I'm going to -South Africa," finished the man. - -"I'll prosecute you," panted his wife. - -"No, you won't," he turned and looked at her sharply, "I know a little -about you, my lady----" - -Before he could finish his sentence, the name of Miss Lorry was -called for her turn. She picked up the riding-whip and gave Giles -another slash across the eyes, then with a taunting laugh she -bounded out of the van. Giles, left alone, set his teeth and swore. - -He was about to leave the caravan, intending to see Miss Lorry no -more, and deciding to go away from Shanton next day with his money, -for London _en route_ to South Africa, when up the steps came -Allen. Behind him was a veiled lady. - -"What are you doing here?" demanded Merry, starting back; "get away. -This place is for the performers." - -"And for murderers also," said Allen, blocking the way resolutely, in -spite of the splendid specimen of physical strength he saw before him. -"I know you, Mr. Giles Merry?" - -"What do you know?" asked Merry, turning pale. "I know that you shot -Strode----" - -"It's a lie," said Merry fiercely. "I was at the circus----" - -"Cain was at the circus. He performed in your stead on that night at -Westhaven. You followed Strode to the Red Deeps where he met my -unhappy father, and you shot him. The boy Butsey has confessed how -he found the blue pocket-book, taken from Strode's body, in your box. -You took it back: but the boy retained the notes and was traced -thereby. Butsey is in custody, and you also will be arrested." - -Merry gasped and sat down heavily. "It's a lie. I saw Butsey with the -pocket-book, and took it from him. It was in the book I found the -paper which Don showed to your father; I never knew there was any -notes. I don't know where Butsey stole the book." - -"He took it from you." - -"It's a lie, I tell you," cried Merry frantically, and seeing his -danger. "I was never near the Red Deeps. Ask Cain, and he'll tell you, -I and not he performed. He perform my tricks!" said Merry with a -sneer; "why he couldn't do them--he hasn't the strength. I swear, Mr. -Hill, by all that's holy I was not at the Red Deeps." - -"You were," said the woman behind Allen, and Eva Strode pushed -past her lover. "Allen and I came to this circus to see Cain and get -him to speak about his appearing for you at Westhaven. We came -round to the back, by permission of Mr. Stag. When we were passing -here, I heard you laugh. It was the laugh I heard in my dream--a -low, taunting laugh----" - -"The dream?" said Merry aghast; "I remember reading what you said at -the inquest, Miss Strode, and then my silly wife--the first wife," -said Merry, correcting himself, "talked of it. But dreams are all -nonsense." - -"My dream was not, Giles. The body was brought home, and the five -knocks were given----" - -"By Butsey?" said Merry contemptuously; "bless you, Miss Eva, the -boy was hidden on the verge of the common when you and Mr. Allen -were walking on the night your father's body was brought home. You -told Mr. Allen your dream." - -"Yes, Eva, so you did," said Allen. - -"Well then, Butsey heard you, and being a little beast as he always -is, when he met those three men with the body he came too, and knocked -five times as you described to Mr. Allen. That for dreams," said -Merry, snapping his fingers. - -Eva was slightly disconcerted. "That is explained away," she said, -"but the laugh I heard in my dream, and heard just now in this -caravan, isn't. It was you who laughed, Giles, and you who shot my -father." - -Merry started, and a red spot appeared on his cheek. "I wonder if -Bell did kill him after all?" he murmured to himself; "she's got a -vile temper, and perhaps----" - -Allen was about to interrupt him, when there came a cry of dismay -from the circus tent, and then a shrill, terrible scream. "There's an -accident!" cried Merry, bounding past Eva and Allen, "White Robin's -done it at last," and he disappeared. - -The screams continued, and the noise in the tent. Suddenly there was -the sound of two shots, and then a roar from the audience. A crowd of -frightened women and children came pouring out. From the back came -Stag and Merry and Horace and others carrying the mangled body of -Miss Lorry. She was insensible and her face was covered with blood. - -The tears were streaming down Stag's face. "I knew that brute would -kill her some day," he said. "I always warned her--oh, poor Bell! -Take her into the van, gentlemen. She'll have the finest -funeral;--send for a doctor, can't you!" - -Eva shrank back in horror at the sight of that marred face. The -woman opened her eyes, and they rested on the girl. A flash of -interest came into them and then she fell back unconscious. Stag and -Merry carried her into the van, but Horace, surrendering his place -to another bearer, joined Allen and Miss Strode. - -"It was terrible," he said, wiping his face, which was pale and -grave, "after you left me to see Cain, Miss Lorry entered on her -white stallion. She was not very steady in the saddle--drink, I -fancy. Still she put the horse through some of his tricks all right. -But he seemed to be out of temper, and reared. She began to strike -him furiously with her whip, and quite lost her self-control. He grew -more savage and dashed her against the pole of the tent. How it -happened I can't say, but in a moment she was off and on the ground, -with the horse savaging her. Oh, the screams," said Horace, biting -his lips, "poor woman! I had my Derringer in my pocket and almost -without thinking I leaped into the ring and ran up to put a couple of -bullets through the brute's head. White Robin is dead, and poor Miss -Lorry soon will be," and he wiped his face again. - -Allen and Eva heard this recital horror-struck, and then a medical -man pushed past them. He was followed by a handsome boy in a red -jersey. "Cain--Cain," cried Eva, but he merely turned for a moment -and then disappeared into the van. Merry came out almost -immediately, still in his stage dress and looking ashy white. - -"She's done for," he whispered to Allen, "she can't live another hour," -the doctor says. "I'll change, and come back. Miss Eva," he added, -turning to the horror-struck girl, "you want to know who laughed in -the van? It was Miss Lorry." - -"Your wife?" said Eva, with pale lips; "then she----" - -"If you believe in that dream of yours, she did," said Merry, and -moved away before Allen could stop him. Cain appeared at the top of -the van steps. - -"Miss Eva?" he said, "she saw you, and she wants you." - -"No, no!" said Allen, holding the girl back. - -"I must," said Eva, breaking away; "you come too, Allen. I must -learn the truth. If Miss Lorry laughed"--she paused and looked -round, "oh, my dream--my dream!" she said, and ran up the steps. - -Miss Lorry was lying on the floor, with her head supported by a -cushion. Her face was pale and streaked with blood, but her eyes -were calm, and filled with recognition of Eva. The doctor, kneeling -beside the dying woman, was giving her some brandy, and Cain, in his -red jersey, with a small Bible in his hand, waited near the door. -Allen and Horace, with their hats off, stood behind him. - -"I'm--glad," said Miss Lorry, gasping; "I want to speak. Don't you -let--Saltars--marry you," she brought out the words with great force, -and her head fell back. - -"You mustn't talk," said the doctor faintly. - -"Am I dying?" she asked, opening her splendid eyes. - -The doctor nodded, and Cain came forward with the tears streaming -down his face, "Oh, let me speak, dear Miss Lorry," he said, "let -me pray----" - -"No," said the woman faintly, "I must talk to Miss Eva. I have much to -say. Come and kneel down beside me, dear." - -Eva did so, and took Miss Lorry's hand. The dying woman smiled. -"I'm glad to have you by me, when I pass," she said; "Mr. Hill, -White Robin--he didn't mean to. I was not well--I should not have -struck him." - -"He's dead," said the deep voice of the American; "I shot him." - -"Shot him!" said Miss Lorry, suddenly raising herself; "shot -who?--not Strode. It was I--it was I who----" - -"Miss Lorry--let me pray," cried Cain vehemently; "make your -peace with our dear, forgiving Master." - -"You're a good boy, Cain. You should have been my son. But I must -confess my sins before I ask forgiveness. Mr. Hill, have you -paper and a pencil?--ah, give me some brandy----" - -While the doctor did so, Horace produced a stylographic pen, and a -sheet of paper torn from his pocket-book. He passed these to Allen, -who also came and knelt by Miss Lorry. He quite understood that the -miserable creature was about to confess her crime. Stag appeared at -the door, but did not venture further. Cain saw him, and pushed him -back, "Let her die in peace," he said, and took Stag away. - -"Do you want us to remain?" said the doctor gently. - -"Yes. I want to tell every one what I did. Mr. Hill, write it down. I -hope to live to sign it." - -"I am ready," said Allen, placing the paper, and poising the pen. - -Miss Lorry had some more brandy. A light came into her eyes, and her -voice also became stronger. - -"Hold my hand," she said to Eva. "If you keep holding it, I'll -know you forgive me. I--I shot your father." - -"You--but why?" asked Eva, aghast. - -"Don't take away your hand--don't. Forgive me. I was mad. I knew -your father many years ago. He was cruel to me. Giles would have -been a better husband but for your father. When Strode--I can call -him Strode, can't I?--when he came back from South Africa, he came -to the circus, when we were near London. He found out my address -from Giles, with whom he had much to do, and not always doing the -best things either. Strode said he wanted to marry you to Saltars, -and he heard that Saltars wanted to marry me. He told me that -he would stop the marriage, by revealing that I was Giles's -wife--ah!----" - -Another sup of brandy gave her strength to go on, and Allen set -down all she said.--"I was furious. I wanted to be Lady Saltars: -besides, I loved him. I always loved him. I had such a cruel life -with Giles--I was so weary of riding--I thought I might die poor. -I have saved money--but not so much as I said. I told Saltars I -had five hundred a year: but I have only two hundred pounds -altogether. When that was gone, I thought I might starve. If my -beauty went--if I met with an accident--no, I could not face -poverty. Besides, I loved Saltars, I really loved him. I implored -your father to hold his tongue. Giles could say nothing, as I could -stop him by threatening to prosecute him for bigamy. Only your father -knew----" - -Again she had to gasp for breath, and then went on rapidly as though -she feared she would not last till she had told all. "Your father -behaved like a brute. I hated him. When he came that night to -Westhaven, I heard from Butsey of his arrival, and that he had gone to -the Red Deeps. How Butsey knew, I can't say. But I was not on in the -bills till very late--at the very end of the programme--I had a good, -quick horse, and saddled it myself--I took a pistol--I intended to -shoot your father, and close his mouth for ever. It was his own -fault--how could I lose Saltars, and face poverty and--disgrace?" - -There was another pause while Allen's pen set down what she said, and -then with an effort she continued: "I went to the Red Deeps and waited -behind some trees. It was close on nine. I saw your father waiting by -the spring. It was a kind of twilight, and, hidden by the bushes, I -was really quite near to him. He was waiting for some one. At first I -thought I would speak to him again, and implore his pity; but I knew -he would do nothing--I knew also he was going to Wargrove, and would -tell Mrs. Merry that I was her husband's wife. I waited my chance to -fire. I had tethered the horse some distance away. As I looked there -came a shot which evidently hit Strode on the arm, for he put his hand -up and wheeled round. I never stopped to think that some one was -trying to kill him also, or I should have let the work be done by that -person." - -"Did you know who the person was?" - -"No, I did not see," said Miss Lorry faintly; "I had no eyes save for -Strode. Oh, how I hated him!" a gleam of anger passed over her white -face. "When he wheeled to face the other person who shot, I saw that -his breast was turned fairly towards me. I shot him through the -heart. I was a good shot," added Miss Lorry proudly, "for I earned my -living in the circus at one time by shooting as the female -cowboy"--the incongruity of the phrase did not seem to strike her as -grotesque. "I heard some one running away, but I did not mind. I -sprang out of the bush and searched his pockets. I thought he might -have set down something about my marriage in his papers. I took the -blue pocket-book and then rode back quickly to Westhaven, where I -arrived in time for my turn. That's all. Let me sign it." - -She did so painfully, and then Allen and Horace appended their names -as witnesses. - -"How came the pocket-book into Merry's possession?" It was Allen who -asked, and Miss Lorry replied drowsily-- - -"Butsey stole the pocket-book from my rooms. He saw the notes which I -left in it, and when I was out he found where I kept it. I believe -Merry took it from him, and then--oh, how weary I am!----" - -The doctor made a sign, and Allen, putting the confession into his -pocket, moved away with Horace. Eva bent down and kissed the dying -woman. "I forgive you," she said, "indeed I forgive you. You acted -under a sudden impulse and----" - -"Thank God you forgive me," said Miss Lorry. - -Eva would have spoken but that Cain drew her back. "Ask our Lord and -Master to forgive you," he said in piercing tones. "Oh, pray, Miss -Lorry--pray for forgiveness!" - -"I have been too great a sinner." - -"The greatest sinner may return; only ask Him to forgive!" - -Eva could bear the sight no longer; she walked quickly out of the -tent and almost fainted in Allen's arms as she came down the steps. -And within they heard the dying woman falteringly repeating the -Lord's prayer as Cain spoke it: - -"For-give us our tres-passes as we forgive those who----" - -Then the weaker voice died away, and only the clear tones of the lad -could be heard finishing the sublime petition. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE WINDING OF THE SKEIN - - -A year after the death of Miss Lorry, two ladies sat in Mrs. Palmer's -drawing-room. One was the widow herself, looking as pretty and as -common as ever, although she now dressed in more subdued tints, -thanks to her companion's frequent admonitions. Eva was near her, -with a bright and expectant look on her face, as though she -anticipated the arrival of some one. It was many months since Allen -had gone out to Bolivia, and this day he was expected back with Mr. -Horace Parkins. Before he departed again for South America, a -ceremony would take place to convert Eva Strode into Mrs. Hill. - -"I'm sure I don't know what I shall do without you, Eva dear," said -the widow for the tenth time that day. - -"Oh, you'll have Mr. Parkins to console you, Constance." - -"Mr. Parkins, indeed?" said Mrs. Palmer tossing her head.--She and Eva -were both in evening-dress, and were waiting for the guests. Allen was -coming, also his mother and Mr. Parkins.--"I don't know why you should -say that, dear." - -Eva laughed. "I have seen a number of letters with the Bolivian -stamp on them, Constance----" - -"Addressed to you. I should think so. But something better than -letters is coming this evening, Eva." - -"Don't try to get out of the position," said Miss Strode, slipping -her arm round the waist of the widow; "you created it yourself. -Besides, Allen told me in his letter that Mr. Parkins talked of no -one and nothing but you. And think, dear, you won't have to alter -your initials, Constance Parkins sounds just as well as Constance -Palmer." - -"Better, I think. I don't deny that I like Mr. Parkins." - -"Call him Horace----" - -"He hasn't given me the right. You forget I saw him only for a month -or so, when he was home last." - -"You saw him long enough to fall in love with him." - -"I don't deny that--to you; but if he dares to ask me to be his wife, -I'll tell him what I think." - -"Quite so, and then we can be married on the same day;--I to Allen, -and you to Horace Parkins. Remember Horace is rich now--the mine has -turned out splendidly." - -"I'm rich enough without that," said Mrs. Palmer with a fine colour; -"if I marry, it will be to please myself. I have had quite enough of -marrying for money, and much good it's done me." - -"You have done every one good," said Eva, kissing her; "think how kind -you were to me, throughout that terrible time, when----" - -"Hark!" said Mrs. Palmer, raising a jewelled finger; "at last!" - -Shortly the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered, followed by Allen and -Horace and by Mr. Mask. Eva had already seen Allen, and Mrs. Palmer -had asked him and Horace to dinner, but both ladies were astonished -when they saw the lawyer. "Well, this is a surprise," said the widow, -giving her hand. - -"I thought I would come, as this is Allen's welcome home," said Mr. -Mask; "you don't mind?" - -"I am delighted." - -"And you, Miss Strode?" - -"I am pleased too. I look on you as one of my best friends," said Eva, -who did not forget that she owed Mrs. Palmer's protection to the -lawyer's kindness. "Mrs. Hill, how are you?" - -"I think you can call me mother now," said the old lady as she -greeted her son's promised wife with a kiss. - -"Oh!" said Allen, who looked bronzed and very fit, "I think, mother, -you are usurping my privilege." - -"Why should it be a privilege?" said Horace, casting looks at the -widow; "why not make it a universal custom?" - -"In that case I should----" began Mrs. Palmer. - -"No, you shouldn't," said Horace, "the world wouldn't let you." - -"Let me what? You don't know what I was about to say." - -Horace would have responded, but the gong thundered. - -"You were about to say that you hoped we were hungry," said Mask -slyly; "that is what a hostess usually says." - -"That," said Mrs. Palmer in her turn, "is a hint. Mr. Hill, will you -take in Eva?--Mr. Mask----" - -"I offer my arm to Mrs. Hill," said the old lawyer. - -"In that case," said the widow, smiling, and with a look at the big -American, "I must content myself with you." - -Horace said something which made her smile and blush, and then they -all went into a dainty meal, which every one enjoyed. After the -terrible experiences of a year ago, each person seemed bent upon -enjoyment, and the meal was a very bright one. When it was ended, the -gentlemen did not sit over their wine, but joined the ladies almost -immediately. Mrs. Palmer and Mrs. Hill were in the drawing-room -talking in low tones, but Eva was nowhere to be seen. Allen looked -around, and Mrs. Palmer laughed at the sight of his anxious face. -"You'll find her in the garden," she said; "it's quite a perfect night -of the Indian summer, therefore----" - -Allen did not wait for further information. He departed at once and -by the quickest way, directly through the French window, which -happened to be open. A few steps along the terrace, under a full -moon, showed him Eva walking on the lawn. At once he sprang down the -steps. "Don't walk on the grass, you foolish child," he said, taking -her arm, "you'll get your feet damp." - -"It's too delicious a night for that," said Eva, lifting her lovely -face to the silver moon; "but we can sit in the arbour----" - -"Don't you think Parkins will want that? He's bound to come out with -Mrs. Palmer, and then----" - -"Does he really mean to propose?" - -"He's been talking of nothing else for the last few months, and has -come home for that precise purpose. But for that, he would have -remained with Mark at the mine. Poor Mark has all the work, and we -have all the fun. But I was determined to come to you and make sure -that you hadn't married Saltars after all." - -"Poor Saltars," said Eva, smiling, "he did come and ask me; but his -heart was not in the proposal. That terrible grandmother of mine urged -him to the breach. He seemed quite glad when I declined." - -"What bad taste," said Allen laughing. - -"I think he really loved that poor woman who died," said Eva in low -tones, "and she certainly loved him, when she committed so daring a -crime for his sake." - -"It might have been ambition as well as love, Eva, and it certainly -was a fear of starvation in her old age. Miss Lorry wanted to make -herself safe for a happy time, and so when she found your father was -likely to rob her of an expected heaven, she shot him." - -"I wish the truth had not been made public, though," said Eva. - -"My dear, it was necessary, so as to remove all blame from any one who -may have been suspected. Poor Stag, however, was not able to give Miss -Lorry the splendid funeral he wished to give, out of respect. As you -know, she was buried very quietly. Only Horace and I and Saltars -followed her to her grave." - -"Didn't her husband?" - -"Giles Merry? No: he never came back, even to see her die. The man -was a brute always. He went off to Africa, I believe, with the money -he borrowed--that's a polite way of putting it--from old Lady Ipsen. -I suppose Mrs. Merry was glad when she heard he was out of the -country?" - -Eva nodded. "And yet I think if he had come back, she would have faced -him. Ever since she knew he was not her husband, she seemed to lose -her fear of him. She still calls herself Mrs. Merry for Cain's sake. -No one knows the truth, save you and I and Lady Ipsen." - -"Well it's best to let things remain as they are. I trust Mrs. Merry -is more cheerful?" - -"Oh yes; the fact is, Cain has converted her." - -"Oh, has Cain taken up his residence in Misery Castle?" - -Eva laughed. "It is called the House Beautiful now," she said; "Cain -got the name out of the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and he lives there with -his mother and his wife." - -"What, did he marry Jane Wasp after all?" - -"He did, some months after you left. Wasp was very much against the -match, as he called Cain a vagabond." - -"Well he was, you know." - -"He is not now. After he joined the Salvation Army he changed -completely and is quite a different person. But even then, Wasp would -not have allowed the match to take place, but that Cain inherited two -hundred pounds from Miss Lorry." - -"Ah, poor soul," said Allen sympathetically, "she talked of that sum -when she was dying. Why did she leave it to Cain?" - -"She always liked Cain, and I think she was sorry for the slur on his -birth cast by his father. But she left him the money, and then Wasp -found out that Cain was a most desirable son-in-law." - -"Does he still belong to the Army?" - -"No. Wasp insisted he should leave. So Cain lives at the House -Beautiful and preaches throughout the country. I believe he is to -become a Methodist minister shortly. At all events, Allen, he is -making his poor mother happy, after all the misery she has had." - -"And how do Mrs. Merry and Wasp get along?" - -"Oh, they rarely see one another, which is just as well. Wasp has been -moved to Westhaven at a higher salary, and is getting along -capitally." - -"I suppose he drills his household as much as ever," laughed Allen; -"let us walk, Eva. We can sit on the terrace." - -Eva pinched Allen's arm, and he looked, to see Horace sauntering down -the path with Mrs. Palmer. They were making for the arbour. The other -lovers therefore sat on the terrace, so as to afford Horace plenty of -time to propose. And now, Allen, said Eva, I must ask you a few -questions. "What of Father Don and his gang?" - -"No one knows. I heard that Red Jerry had been caught by the -Continental police for some robbery. But Foxy and Father Don have -vanished into space with their loot. I regret those diamonds." - -"I don't," said Eva proudly; "I would much rather live as your wife on -your money, Allen." - -"On my own earnings, you mean?" - -"Yes, though you will be very rich when your mother dies." - -"I hope that won't be for a long time," said Allen gravely; "poor -mother, she had a sad life with my father." - -"Why did he go mad so suddenly, Allen?" - -"The shock of those diamonds being carried off, I suppose, Eva. But he -was mad when he stole that wooden hand. Where is it?" - -"Buried in the vault. We put it there," said Eva, shuddering; "I -never wish to see it again. Look at the misery it caused. But why did -your father steal it?" - -"Never mind. He was mad, and that's the best that can be said. It was -just as well he died while I was away. He would only have lingered on, -an imbecile. I wish my mother would give up the house and come out -with us to Bolivia, Eva." - -"We might be able to persuade her. But there's one question I want to -ask: What's become of Butsey? I haven't heard of him, since he left -Mr. Mask." - -Allen laughed. "Yes; he gave Mask the slip very smartly," he said, -"a dangerously clever lad is Butsey. I heard he was in America. A -fine field for his talents he'll find there." - -"Why did he tell lies about Giles Merry?" - -"Because he hated Merry, and wanted to save Miss Lorry. He knew all -the time that Miss Lorry was guilty, but would have hanged Giles to -save her. Had she not confessed, Giles, with that brat lying in the -witness-box, would have been in a strange plight." - -"Would they have tried Butsey, had he not got away?" - -"I can't say. Perhaps they would. I am not a good lawyer. You had -better ask Mask. However, the boy's gone, and I dare say he'll -some day be lynched in the States. People like him always come to -a bad end, Eva. Well, any more questions?" - -"I can't think of any. Why do you ask?" - -Allen took her hands, and looked into her eyes. "Because I want to put -the old bad past out of our minds. I want you to ask what you wish to -ask, and I'll answer. Then we'll drop the subject for ever." - -"There's nothing more I want to know," said Eva after a pause; -"tell me about our house, Allen." - -He kissed her, and then told of the quaint Spanish house in the -sleepy old Spanish town, and told also of the increasing wealth -of the silver mine. "We'll all be millionaires in a few years, -Eva, and then we can return to Europe and take a house in -London." - -"Certainly not in Wargrove," said Eva, shivering. "I want to -forget this place with all its horrors. My dream----" - -"Don't talk of it, Eva. We'll be married next week, and then life -will be all joy for us both. Ah, here is Mrs. Palmer!----" - -"Mrs. Parkins that is to be," said the male figure by the widow's -side; "we're going to travel together." - -"I am so glad, Constance," said Eva, kissing her. - -"What about me, Miss Strode?" asked the envious American. - -"I'll salute you by proxy in this way," said Eva, and kissed Allen. - -"Oh, Horace!" sighed Mrs. Palmer, and sank into her lover's arms. - -So all four were happy, and the troubles of the past gave place to -the joys of the present. The evil augury of Eva's dream was -fulfilled--the dark night was past, and joy was coming in the -morning. So after all, good had come out of evil. - - - -THE END. - - - -Printed by T. and A. 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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: The Wooden Hand - A Detective Story - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: July 12, 2017 [EBook #55102] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODEN HAND *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books(University of Wisconsin Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source:<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=fUk2AQAAMAAJ<br> -2. Single quotes in original are replaced by double quotes, conforming to -current usage.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>Bell's Indian and Colonial Library</h3> -<hr class="W90"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE WOODEN HAND</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - -<h3>THE WOODEN HAND</h3> - -<h4>A DETECTIVE STORY</h4> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>FERGUS HUME</h4> - -<h5>AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB,"<br> -"THE GUILTY HOUSE," "THE SILVER BULLET,"<br> -"THE LONELY CHURCH," "THE WHITE ROOM,"<br> -ETC. ETC. ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LONDON<br> -GEORGE BELL AND SONS<br> -1905</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="center"><i>This Edition is issued for circulation in India and the Colonies -only</i>.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:20%; vertical-align:top; text-align:right"><col style="width:80%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h3>CONTENTS</h3></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER</td> -<td> </td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td>MISERY CASTLE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II.</a></td> -<td>LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III.</a></td> -<td>THE NE'ER-DO-WEEL</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV.</a></td> -<td>MYSTERY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V.</a></td> -<td>A STRANGE LOSS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI.</a></td> -<td>THE WARNING</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII.</a></td> -<td>THE INQUEST</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td>A NEW LIFE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX.</a></td> -<td>THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X.</a></td> -<td>MRS. HILL EXPLAINS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI.</a></td> -<td>ALLEN AS A DETECTIVE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII.</a></td> -<td>LORD SALTARS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII.</a></td> -<td>THE OTHER WOMAN</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV.</a></td> -<td>SIGNOR ANTONIO</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV.</a></td> -<td>AN UNEXPECTED MEETING</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI.</a></td> -<td>MR. HILL'S STORY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII.</a></td> -<td>A FRIEND IN NEED</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII.</a></td> -<td>THE FINDING OF BUTSEY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX.</a></td> -<td>MRS. MERRY'S VISITORS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX.</a></td> -<td>AN AMAZING CONFESSION</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI.</a></td> -<td>THE DIAMONDS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII.</a></td> -<td>BUTSEY'S STORY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII.</a></td> -<td>MISS LORRY'S LAST APPEARANCE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV.</a></td> -<td>THE WINDING OF THE SKEIN</td> -</tr></table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE WOODEN HAND</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER I</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">MISERY CASTLE</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>"Ah well, Miss Eva, I 'spose your pa'ull come home to spile things -as he allays have done. It ain't no wonder, I ses, as you sits -moping by the winder, looking double your age, and you only twenty, -as has no right to look forty, whatever you may say, though I took -my dying alfred-david on its blessed truth."</p> - -<p>This slightly incoherent and decidedly pessimistic speech was moaned, -rather than spoken, by a lean-bodied, hard-faced, staring-eyed woman -to a pretty girl, who did not look at the speaker. And small wonder. -Mrs. Merry--inappropriate name--was unattractive to the eye. She was -angular, grey-skinned, grey-eyed, grey-haired, and had thin, drooping -lips almost as grey as the rest of her. In her black stuff gown--she -invariably wore the most funereal dresses--with uneasy hands folded -under a coarse apron, she stood before Eva Strode, uttering -lamentations worthy of Jeremiah at his worst. But such dumpishness was -characteristic of the woman. She delighted in looking on the black -side of things, and the blacker they were, the more she relished them. -Out of wrong-doing, and grief and things awry, she extracted a queer -sort of pleasure, and felt never so happy as when the worst came to -the worst. It seemed unfit that such a walking pageant of woe should -be called Merry.</p> - -<p>Eva, already depressed by the voice and sentiment of this -lamentable dame, continued to look at the gaudy hollyhocks, even -while she answered calmly, "I expect my father is the same as he -was when he went to South Africa five years ago. I don't hope to -find him an angel. I am certain he has not changed."</p> - -<p>"If you're thinking of black angels," said the lively Merry, "you -can have satisfactions from thinking him Beelzebub, for him he -are."</p> - -<p>"Don't call my father names. It does no good, Mrs. Merry."</p> - -<p>"Beg pardon, miss, but it do relieve the heart and temper. And I will -call him a leper, if that's a name, seeing as he'll never change his -spots, however persuaded."</p> - -<p>"What's the time?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry peered into the dial of a clock on the mantelpiece. "You -might call it six, Miss Eva, and a lovely evening it is, though rain -may spile it unexpected. Your pa 'ull be seated at the table in the -next room at eight, let us hope, if nothing do happen to him, and I -do pray on my bended knees, Miss Eva, as he won't growl at the meal, -his habit allays when your poor dear ma--her ladyship was alive. Ah -well," said Mrs. Merry with emphasis, "<i>she's</i> an angel now, and your -pa ain't likely to trouble her again."</p> - -<p>"Why, don't you think my father may come home? I mean, why do you -fancy anything may happen to him?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I ain't got no cause, but what you might call the -uncertainties of this vale of tears, Miss Eva. He have to drive -ten mile here from the Westhaven station, and there's tramps -about them lonely roads. Coming from South Africa, your pa 'ull -naturally have diamonds to tempt the poor."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what he has got," said Eva rather pettishly. "And -no one, save you and me, know he is returning from Africa."</p> - -<p>"No one, Miss Eva?" questioned the woman significantly.</p> - -<p>Miss Strode coloured. "I told Mr. Hill."</p> - -<p>"And he told his pa, and his pa, who have a long tongue, told all -the village, I don't doubt. If ever there was a man as fiddled -away his days in silliness," cried Merry, "it's that pink and -white jelly-fish as you call Hills."</p> - -<p>"Hill," corrected Miss Strode; then added colouring: "His son -doesn't take after him."</p> - -<p>"No," admitted the other grudgingly, "I will say as Mr. Allen is -a tight lad. His mother gave him her blood and sense and looks; -not that I say he's worthy of you, Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Merry," said Eva quietly, "you let your tongue run on too -freely about my friends."</p> - -<p>"Not the father Hills, if I die in saying it. He's no friend of -yours, seeing he's your pa's; and as to Mr. Allen, I never had -a sweetheart as I called friend, when you could call him -something better."</p> - -<p>Eva took no notice of this speech, but continued, "You are my -old nurse, Mrs. Merry, and I allow you to talk openly."</p> - -<p>"For your good, Miss Eva," put in Merry.</p> - -<p>"For my good, I know," said the girl; "but you must not run down -Allen's father or mine."</p> - -<p>"As to <i>his</i> father, I say nothing but that he's a drivelling -jelly-fish," said Mrs. Merry, who would not be suppressed; "but your -own pa I know, worse luck, and I don't think much of him as a man, -whatever I say about his being Beelzebub, which he is. Fifty years and -more he is, fine-looking at that, though wickedness is in his aching -bones. Not that I know of their aching," explained Mrs. Merry, "but if -sin would make 'em smart, ache they do. You've been happy with me, -Miss Eva, dear, in spite of a humble roof and your poor ma's death, -four and a half year back. But your pa's come home to make trouble. -Satan let loose is what I call him, and if I could stop his coming by -twisting his wicked neck, I would."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Merry!" Eva rose quickly and flushed. "You forget yourself."</p> - -<p>"There," said Mrs. Merry, casting up her eyes; "and I fed her with my -own milk."</p> - -<p>Eva, who was tenderly attached to the angular, dismal, chattering -woman, could not withstand this remark. "Dear Nanny," she said, -comforting the wounded heart, "I know you mean well, but my father -<i>is</i> my father after all."</p> - -<p>"Worse luck, so he is," sobbed Mrs. Merry, feeling for Eva's hand.</p> - -<p>"I wish to think of him as kindly as I can, and----"</p> - -<p>"Miracles won't make you do that," interrupted the woman, dropping -her apron from her eyes, and glaring. "Miss Eva, I knew your pa when -he was a bad boy, both him and me being neighbours, as you might -say, though I did live in a cottage and he in a Manor House not two -mile from here. He and that jelly-fish of a Hills were always -together doing mischief, and setting neighbours by the ears, though -I do say as your pa, being masterful, led that jelly-fish away. -Then your pa ran away with Lady Jane Delham, your ma, as is dead, -and treated her shameful. She come here to me, as an old friend, -for friend I was, tho' humble," sobbed Mrs. Merry weeping again, -"and you were born. Then your pa takes you away and I never set -eyes on you and my lady till five years ago when he brought you -here. To settle down and make you happy? No! not he. Away he goes -gallivanting to South Africa where the blacks are, leaving a lady -born and bred and his daughter just a bud, meaning yourself, to -live with a common woman like me!"</p> - -<p>"I have been very happy, Nanny, and my mother was happy also, when she -was alive."</p> - -<p>"Ah," said Mrs. Merry bitterly, "a queer sort of happiness, to be -that way when your husband goes. I've had a trial myself in Merry, -who's dead, and gone, I hope, where you'll find your pa will join -him. But you'll see, Miss Eva, as your pa will come and stop your -marrying Mr. Allen."</p> - -<p>"I think that's very likely," said Eva sadly.</p> - -<p>"What," said Mrs. Merry under her breath, and rising, "he's at it -already is he? I thought so."</p> - -<p>"I received a letter from him the other day," explained Eva; -"knowing your prejudice against my father, I said nothing."</p> - -<p>"Me not to be trusted, I 'spose, Miss Eva?" was the comment.</p> - -<p>"Nonsense. I trust you with anything."</p> - -<p>"And well you may. I fed you with my heart's blood, and foster -sister you are to my boy Cain, though, Lord knows, he's as bad as his -father was before him--the gipsy whelp that he is. Not on my side, -though," cried Mrs. Merry. "I'm true English, and why I ever took up -with a Romany rascal like Giles Merry, I don't know. But he's dead, I -hope he is, though I never can be sure, me not knowing where's his -grave. Come now," Mrs. Merry gave her face a wipe with the apron, -"I'm talking of my own troubles, when yours is about. That -letter----?"</p> - -<p>"It is one in answer to mine. I wrote to Cape Town three months ago -telling my father that I was engaged to Allen Hill. He wrote the other -day--a week ago--from Southampton, saying he would not permit the -marriage to take place, and bade me wait till he came home."</p> - -<p>"Trouble! trouble," said Mrs. Merry, rocking; "I know the man. Ah, my -dear, don't talk. I'm thinking for your good."</p> - -<p>It was hot outside, though the sun was sinking and the cool twilight -shadowed the earth. The hollyhocks, red and blue and white and -yellow, a blaze of colour, were drooping their heads in the warm air, -and the lawn looked brown and burnt for want of rain. Not a breath of -wind moved the dusty sycamore trees which divided the cottage from -the high-road, and the crimson hue of the setting sun steeped -everything in its sinister dye. Perhaps it was this uncanny evening -that made Eva Strode view the home-coming of her father with such -uneasiness, and the hostility and forebodings of Mrs. Merry did not -tend to reassure her. With her hand on that dismal prophetess's -shoulder, she stood silently looking out on the panting world bathed -in the ruddy light. It was as though she saw the future through a -rain of blood.</p> - -<p>Misery Castle was the name of the cottage, and Mrs. Merry was -responsible for the dreary appellation. Her life had been hard -and was hard. Her husband had left her, and her son, following in -his father's footsteps, was almost constantly absent in London, -in more than questionable company. Mrs. Merry therefore called -the cottage by as dismal a name as she could think of. Even Eva, -who protested against the name, could not get the steadfastly -dreary woman to change it. "Misery dwells in it, my dear lamb," -said Mrs. Merry, "and Misery it shall be called. Castle it ain't -from the building of it, but Castle it is, seeing the lot of -sorrow that's in it. Buckingham Palace and the Tower wouldn't -hold more, and more there will be, when that man comes home with -his wicked sneering face, father though he be to you, my poor -young lady."</p> - -<p>It was a delightful cottage, with whitewashed walls covered with -creepers, and a thatched roof, grey with wind and weather and the -bleaching of the sun. The rustic porch was brilliant with red -roses, and well-kept garden-beds bloomed with rainbow-hued -flowers seasonable to the August month. To the right this domain -was divided from a wide and gorse-covered common by an ancient -wall of mellow-hued brick, useful for the training of peach-trees: -to the left a low hedge, with unexpected gaps, ran between the -flower-beds and a well-stocked orchard. This last extended some -distance, and ended in a sunken fence, almost buried in nettles and -rank weeds. Beyond stretched several meadows, in which cows -wandered, and further still, appeared fields of wheat, comfortable -farm-houses, clumps and lines of trees, until the whole fertile -expanse terminated at the foot of low hills, so far away that they -looked blue and misty. A smiling corn-land, quite Arcadian in its -peace and beauty.</p> - -<p>Along the front of the cottage and under the dusty sycamore trees -ran a high-road which struck straightly across the common, slipped -by Misery Castle, and took its way crookedly through Wargrove -village, whence it emerged to twist and turn for miles towards the -distant hills and still more distant London town. Being the king's -highway it was haunted by tramps, by holiday vans filled with -joyous folk, and by fashionable motor-cars spinning noisily at -illegal speed. But neither motor-cars, nor vans, nor tramps, nor -holidaymakers stopped at Wargrove village, unless for a moment or -two at the one public-house on thirsty days. These went on -ten miles further across the common to Westhaven, a rising -watering-place at the Thames mouth. So it will be seen that the -publicity of the highway afforded Eva a chance of seeing the world -on wheels, and diversified her somewhat dull existence.</p> - -<p>And it was dull, until a few months ago. Then Allen Hill came home -from South America, where he had been looking after mines. The -young people met and subsequently fell in love. Three months before -the expected arrival of Mr. Strode they became engaged with the -consent of Allen's parents but without the knowledge of Eva's -father. However, being a dutiful daughter to a man who did not -deserve such a blessing, she wrote and explained herself. The reply -was the letter, mention of which she had made to Mrs. Merry. And Mrs. -Merry prognosticated trouble therefrom.</p> - -<p>"I know the man--I know the man," moaned Mrs. Merry, rocking herself, -"he'll marry you to some one else for his ambitions, drat him."</p> - -<p>"That he shall never do," flashed out Eva.</p> - -<p>"You have plenty of spirit, Miss Eva, but he'll wear you out. He -wore out Lady Jane, your ma, as is now where he will never go. -And was it this that set you moping by the winder, my dear -lamb?"</p> - -<p>Eva returned to her former seat. "Not altogether." She -hesitated, and then looked anxiously at her old nurse, who stood -with folded arms frowning and rigid. "You believe in dreams, -Mrs. Merry?"</p> - -<p>"As I believe that Merry was a scoundrel, and that my boy will -take after him, as he does," said the woman, nodding sadly; -"misery ain't surer nor dreams, nor taxes which allays come -bringing sorrow and summonses with 'em. So you dreamed last -night?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. You know I went to bed early. I fell asleep at eight and -woke at nine, trembling."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Mrs. Merry drew nearer--"'twas a baddish dream?"</p> - -<p>"A horrible dream--it was, I think, two dreams."</p> - -<p>"Tell it to me," said the old woman, her eyes glittering.</p> - -<p>Eva struck her closed fist on the sill. "No," she cried -passionately, "it's impossible to tell it. I wish to forget."</p> - -<p>"You'll remember it well enough when the truth comes."</p> - -<p>"Do you think anything will come of it?"</p> - -<p>"It's as sure as sure," said Mrs. Merry.</p> - -<p>Eva, less superstitious, laughed uneasily, and tried to turn the -subject. "Allen will be at the gate soon," she said. "I'm walking to -the common with him for an hour."</p> - -<p>"Ah well," droned Mrs. Merry, "take your walk, Miss Eva. You won't -have another when <i>he</i> comes home."</p> - -<p>"Nurse!" Eva stamped her foot and frowned. "You make my father out to -be a----"</p> - -<p>"Whatever I make him out to be, I'll never get near what he is," -said Mrs. Merry viciously. "I hate him. He ruined my Giles, not as -Giles was much to boast of. Still, I could have talked him into -being a stay-at-home, if your pa--there--there--let him be, say I. -If his cup is full he'll never come home alive."</p> - -<p>Eva started and grew deathly pale. "My dream--my dream," she said.</p> - -<p>"Ah yes!" Mrs. Merry advanced and clutched the girl's wrist. "You -saw him dead or dying, eh, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Don't, nurse; you frighten me," said Miss Strode, releasing her -wrist; then she thought for a moment. "My dream or dreams," said -she after a pause, went something after this fashion. "I thought I -was in the Red Deeps----"</p> - -<p>"Five miles from here," muttered Mrs. Merry, hugging herself. "I know -the place--who better? Red clay and a splash of water, however dry."</p> - -<p>"Ah, you are thinking of the spring!" said Eva starting; "it was there -I saw--oh no--no," and she closed her eyes to shut out the sight.</p> - -<p>"What was it--what was it?" asked Mrs. Merry eagerly; "death?"</p> - -<p>"He was lying face downward in the moist red clay beside the spring of -the Red Deeps!"</p> - -<p>"Who was lying?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I seemed to see the place and the figure of a man in -dark clothes lying face downward, with his hands twisted helplessly in -the rank grasses. I heard a laugh too--a cruel laugh, but in my dream -I saw no one else. Only the dead man, face downward," and she stared -at the carpet as though she saw the gruesome sight again.</p> - -<p>"How do you know 'twas your father's corpse?" croaked the old woman.</p> - -<p>"I didn't think it was--I didn't tell you it was," panted Eva, -flushing and paling with conflicting emotions.</p> - -<p>"Ah," interpreted Mrs. Merry, "some one he killed, perhaps."</p> - -<p>"How dare you--how dare----? Nurse," she burst out, "I believe it -<i>was</i> my father lying dead there--I saw a white-gloved right hand."</p> - -<p>"Your pa, sure enough," said the woman grimly. "His wooden hand, eh? -I know the hand. He struck me with it once. Struck me," she cried, -rising and glaring, "with my own husband standing by. But Giles was -never a man. So your pa was dead, wooden hand and all, in the Red -Deeps? Did you go there to see, this day?"</p> - -<p>"No, no," Eva shuddered, "it was only a dream."</p> - -<p>"Part of one, you said."</p> - -<p>Miss Strode nodded. "After I saw the body and the white glove on the -wooden hand glimmering in the twilight--for twilight it was in my -dream--I seemed to sink into darkness, and to be back in my bed--yes, -in my bed in the room across the passage."</p> - -<p>"Ah! you woke then?" said Mrs. Merry, disappointed.</p> - -<p>"No, I swear I was not awake. I was in my bed asleep, dreaming, for I -heard footsteps--many footsteps come to the door--to the front door, -then five knocks----"</p> - -<p>"Five," said the woman, surprised.</p> - -<p>"Five knocks. One hard and four soft. Then a voice came telling me -to take in the body. I woke with a cry, and found it was just after -nine o'clock."</p> - -<p>"Well, well," chuckled the old woman, "if Robert Strode is dead----"</p> - -<p>"You can't be sure of that," said Eva fiercely, and regretted -telling this dismal woman her dream.</p> - -<p>"You saw the gloved hand--the wooden hand?"</p> - -<p>"Bah! It is only a dream."</p> - -<p>"Dreams come true. I've known 'em to come true," said Mrs. Merry, -rising, "and to-morrow I go to the Red Deeps to see."</p> - -<p>"But my father comes home to-night."</p> - -<p>"No," said Mrs. Merry, with the mien of a sibyl, "he'll never come -home agin to the house where he broke a woman's heart."</p> - -<p>And she went out laughing and muttering of the Red Deeps.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER II</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Eva Strode was an extremely pretty blonde. She had golden-brown -hair which glistened in the sunshine, hazel eyes somewhat -meditative in expression, and a complexion that Mrs. Merry, in her -odd way, compared to mixed roses and milk. Her nose was delicate -and straight, her mouth charming and sensitive, and if it drooped -a trifle at the corners, she had good cause for so melancholy a -twist. Her figure was so graceful that envious women, less -favoured by Nature, suggested padding: but these same depreciators -could say nothing against her hands and feet, which were -exquisitely formed. Usually Eva, cunning enough to know that her -beauty needed no adornment, dressed in the very plainest fashions. -At the present moment she was arrayed in a pale blue dress of some -coarse material, and wore a large straw hat swathed in azure -tulle. An effective touch of more pronounced colour appeared in -the knot of red ribbon at her throat and the bunch of crimson -roses thrust into her waistband. She looked dainty, well-bred, -charming, and even the malignant female eye would have found -little to blame. But the female eye generally did find fault. Eva -was much too pretty a girl to escape remark.</p> - -<p>This vision of loveliness walked demurely down the garden path to -gladden the eyes of a young man lingering at the gate. He, eagerly -expecting the descent of Venus, quickly removed his Panama hat, and -looked at the goddess with admiring eyes, eloquent of unspoken -praise. Eva, feeling, rather than meeting, their fervid gaze, halted -within the barrier and blushed as red as the roses in her belt. Then -she ventured to look at her lover, and smiled a welcome.</p> - -<p>Certainly the lover was not unworthy of the lass, so far as looks -went. Allen Hill was as dark as Eva was fair. Indeed, he more -resembled a Spaniard than an Englishman. His oval face, smooth and -clean-shaven save for a small, smartly pointed moustache, was -swarthy, his eyes were wonderfully black and large, and his closely -clipped hair might be compared to the hue of the raven's wing. His -slim figure was clothed in white flannels, so well cut and spotless -that they conveyed a suspicion that the young gentleman was something -of a dandy. He looked more like a poet than a mining engineer.</p> - -<p>Yet an engineer he was, and had travelled over the greater part of -the world with his eyes open. These looked languid enough as a rule, -but they could blaze with a fighting light, as his associates in the -lands at the back of Beyond knew. At thirty years of age Allen knew -quite as much as was good for him, and knew also how to utilise his -knowledge. In many lands he had seen fair women, but none had -captured his heart as had this dewy, fragrant English rose.</p> - -<p>Six months earlier the two had met at a garden party. Allen came and -saw, and Eva--as women always do--conquered. The engineer's heart, -being tinder, caught fire easily and began to blaze with a fiery -flame not to be extinguished by reason. Eva herself, not being -tame either, rather liked this Sabine courtship, and did not leave -Allen long in doubt as to the way in which she regarded his -audacious advances. The result was that in a few months they became -engaged, and the flower-time of their love came almost as -speedily as did that of Romeo and Juliet. But now, as Eva well knew, -the common sense of the world was about to chill their ardour. She -had this very evening to inform this eager, whole-hearted lover -that her father refused to sanction the engagement. No easy task, -seeing she loved the man with her whole heart and soul.</p> - -<p>"My dear, my love," murmured Allen, as the gate closed behind -the girl: and he would have embraced her in the public road, but -that she dexterously evaded his widely spread arms.</p> - -<p>"Not here--not here," she whispered hurriedly, and with a fine -colour; "it's too public, you stupid boy."</p> - -<p>The stupid boy, cheated of his treat, glared up and down the road, -"I don't see any one," he grumbled.</p> - -<p>"Eyes at those windows," said Eva, waving a slim hand towards a -row of thatched cottages, "and tongues also."</p> - -<p>"I am not ashamed of our love. I wish the whole world knew of it."</p> - -<p>"The whole world probably does," rejoined Miss Strode, a trifle -drily; "if any one saw you with those eyes and that look, -and--oh, you ridiculous boy!" and she shook her finger at him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you coquette. Can't we----"</p> - -<p>"On the common we can talk, if that is what you mean," said Eva, -turning away to trip up the dusty road; "the common," she cried -with a backward look which should have drawn the young man after -her at a fine pace.</p> - -<p>But Allen lingered for a moment. Deeply in love as he was, he had -his own ideas regarding the management of the fair sex. He knew that -when a woman is sure of her swain she is apt to be exacting, so as -to check his ardour. On the other hand, if the swain hangs back, the -maid comes forward with winsome looks. Hitherto, Allen had been all -passion and surrender. Now he thought he would tease Eva a little, -by not coming immediately to her beck and call. Therefore, while she -skipped ahead--and without looking back, so sure was she that Allen -followed--the young man lighted a cigarette, and when the smoke -perfumed the air, looked everywhere save in the direction he desired -to look. North, south, west looked Allen, but never east, where -could be seen the rising sun of his love. But passion proved to be -stronger than principle, and finally his eyes fastened on the -shadowy figure of Eva pausing on the edge of the common. She was -looking back now, and beckoned with persuasive finger. Allen made a -step forward to follow the siren, then halted. A strange feeling -took possession of him. Allen's mother was Scotch, and having the -impressionable Celtic nature, he was quick to feel the influences of -that unseen world which lies all round, invisible to dull eyes, and -unfelt by material souls. At the moment, in spite of the warmth, he -had what the Scotch call a "grue," and shivered where he stood. At -his back sank the sun red and angry, peering through lines of black -cloud suggestive of prison bars. The scarlet light flooded the -landscape in a sinister manner, and dyed the flitting figure of Eva -in crimson hues. She looked as though bathed in blood, and--as she -was now speeding towards the trysting place--as though she fled from -justice. Also, she ran from the red west into the gloom of the east, -already shadowy with the coming night. Was there no parable in this? -considered Allen, and shivered again.</p> - -<p>"Indigestion," thought Allen, striving to throw off that weird feeling -and trying to explain it in the most commonplace way. But he knew well -that he had never in his life suffered from indigestion, and that the -feeling--which had now passed away--was a hint of coming evil. "To me, -I hope," murmured the young man, stepping out briskly, "not to Eva, -poor darling."</p> - -<p>When he joined the girl, he was quite his old fervid self, and felt -his premonitions pass away in the charm of the hour. Even the sunset -was less scarlet and more of a rosy tint like his new thoughts. He -threw himself at the feet of his beloved, cast away his cigarette, and -took her hand within his. For the moment Dan Cupid was king.</p> - -<p>But was he? Eva did not appear to think so. She allowed her hand to -remain in Allen's warm grip, but he felt no responsive pressure. -The two were seated on a rustic bench within a circle of flowering -gorse. The sward was green and smooth, worthy of the dancing feet -of Titania's elves, and perhaps it might have been one of their -ballrooms the lovers had invaded. In that case it would certainly -prove unhappy ground to them. The fairies do not like mortals, -however loving, who intrude on their privacy. The elves, however, -not yet awakened by the moon, made no sign, and in that still place -no sound could be heard. Overhead was the flushed sky, underfoot -the emerald sward, and there were the lovers supplied with an -admirable stage on which to play their parts. Allen was willing -enough, and looked up adoringly into the face of his Juliet. But -Eva's gaze was fixed on the orange-hued blossom of the gorse with a -far-away look. And when she spoke, it certainly was not of love.</p> - -<p>"Allen," she said, in a calm, level voice, "we have known each other -for nearly a year."</p> - -<p>"Call it a century," said Allen, kissing her hand. "I love you and -you love me. Why talk of time? Love like ours lives in eternity."</p> - -<p>"Hum," said Eva, although the ejaculation was not a pretty one, the -question is, "Will it live at all?"</p> - -<p>"Eva!" He raised himself on his elbow and stared; but the girl -continued to speak without looking at him.</p> - -<p>"Do you know my history, Allen?" she asked; then without waiting for -his reply, went on in a passionless way: "My father is the last -Strode of Wargrove. The manor house of our race is only a few miles -away, and there the Strodes lived for centuries. My grandfather, -however, was an extravagant man, and lost all the money. When my -father returned from Oxford to take up his position in the world, he -found that his father was dead and that the estate would have to be -sold to pay the debts. In that way, Allen, the manor passed from our -family."</p> - -<p>"I have heard something of this, Eva," said the perplexed young -man; "but why waste time in telling me of it now?"</p> - -<p>"You will find the time will not be wasted," rejoined Eva, -glancing down with something like pity; "let me go on. My -father, brought up in a luxurious way, took what money there -was left and went to seek work in London. He speculated, and -knowing nothing about speculation he lost everything. Then your -father, who was his friend at school and college, lent him some -thousands, and my father, to better his position, married Lady -Jane Delham, daughter of the Earl of Ipsen. I understand that -the money which she brought with her, was lost also--in -speculation."</p> - -<p>"But why did your father speculate so much?" asked Allen.</p> - -<p>"His one desire was to buy back the manor," said Eva. "He -has much pride of race, and wants to end his days under -the roof where he was born. But let me go on once more. The -money was lost, and Lord Ipsen died. His title went to a -distant cousin, who did not like my mother, consequently there -was no chance of my father getting more money in that quarter. I -was born under Mrs. Merry's roof; but till the age of seven I -lived with my mother in a small Hampstead cottage. My father -went on speculating. Sometimes he made money, at other times he -lost it; but always, he followed the will-o'-the-wisp of -fortune, hoping to get back his old home. He then went to South -America, and took my mother with him. I was placed at school, -and until I was fifteen I never saw my parents."</p> - -<p>"Poor Eva, how lonely you must have been!"</p> - -<p>"I <i>was</i> lonely, and yet--having seen so little of my parents I -don't know that I missed them so very much. My father stopped in Peru -till I was fifteen, and my mother with him. He came back poor, but -with sufficient money to speculate again. He therefore placed my -mother and me in Misery Castle."</p> - -<p>"Ridiculous name," muttered Allen uneasily.</p> - -<p>"A very appropriate name," said Eva with some bitterness, seeing -how unhappy Mrs. Merry is. "She had a bad husband and has a bad son. -My mother was also unhappy. Meeting her again after all those -years, I did my best to comfort her. But her heart was broken."</p> - -<p>"Your father?" asked Allen in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"Who else?" replied Eva, flushing, and the water came to her eyes. -"Oh! Allen, I do not wish to speak ill, or to think ill, of my -father; but--no," she broke off, suppressing herself. "I cannot -speak from what I have seen, and I judge no one, let alone my -father, on what I have heard. Mrs. Merry thinks badly of my father, -and my poor mother--ah! my poor mother! she said as little as she -could. But her heart was broken, Allen; she died of a broken heart -and a crushed spirit. I lost her five months after my father went -to seek his fortune in South Africa, and since then I have lived -alone with Mrs. Merry."</p> - -<p>"Poor Eva!" said Hill tenderly, and repossessed himself of the hand -which she had withdrawn. "But Mrs. Merry is good to you?"</p> - -<p>"Very--very good," said Miss Strode with emphasis. "She was my -nurse and foster-mother, Allen. When I was born my father came -here for a time before taking the Hampstead cottage. Well, Allen, -that is my history. My father all these five years has paid Mrs. -Merry for my board and lodging, and has sent home pocket-money -for me. But all that time he has never written me a tender. -letter."</p> - -<p>"Not even when his wife died?"</p> - -<p>"No. He wrote a few words of sympathy, but not those which a -father should have written to a motherless girl. From what I know -of him, and from what Mrs. Merry says, he is a hard, cold, -self-concentrated man. I dread his coming more than I can tell -you, Allen."</p> - -<p>"If he ever does come," said the young man softly.</p> - -<p>Eva started and looked down. "What do you mean by that?" she -asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>Allen met her gaze frankly and laughed. "Oh, you need not disturb -yourself, my dear," he said with a shrug, "only you know my father -and yours were always chums. Why, I don't know, as my father -is certainly not the kind of man to suit such a one as you -describe Mr. Strode to be. But they were chums at school and -college, and my father knows a lot about yours. When I mentioned -that your father was expected to-night, my father--it was at -breakfast--said that Mr. Strode might not arrive after all. I did -not ask him what he meant."</p> - -<p>"Could Mr. Hill have heard from my father?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say, and even if he did, I don't know why my father -should suggest that Mr. Strode would not come home. But, Eva, you -are pale."</p> - -<p>"I feel pale," she said in a low voice. "Allen, sit beside me. I want -to talk seriously--to tell you a dream."</p> - -<p>The young man, nothing loath, promptly seated himself by her side -and slipped a strong, tender arm round her slender waist. Eva's -heart beat stronger when she found herself in such an assured haven. -It seemed as though Allen, noble and firm and loving, would be able -to shelter her from the coming storm. "And the storm will come," -she said aloud.</p> - -<p>"What is that?" asked Hill, not catching her meaning.</p> - -<p>"It is my dream," she answered; and then, with her head on his -shoulder, she told about her vision of the night. Allen was inclined -to make light of it.</p> - -<p>"You superstitious little darling," he said fondly, "the dream is -easily accounted for. You were thinking of your father, and, being -anxious about his arrival, dreamed what you did."</p> - -<p>Eva released herself, rather offended. "I was thinking of my father, I -admit," she said, "but I was not at all anxious. My father has been -all over the world, and in wild parts, so he can look after himself -very well. Besides, I never thought of the Red Deeps. And remember, -Allen, I saw the right hand, gloved."</p> - -<p>"That would seem to intimate that the dead man you saw in your dream -was Mr. Strode," said Allen, kissing her; "but it's all nonsense, -Eva."</p> - -<p>"You don't think anything will happen?" she demanded, anxious to be -reassured after Mrs. Merry's gloomy talk.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't. I have known of lots of dreams quite vivid which -never came true. I'm not a scientific chap," added Allen, laughing, -"or I would be able to prove that this dream is only a reflex of -your waking thoughts. Mr. Strode will arrive all right."</p> - -<p>"And then we must part," sighed Eva.</p> - -<p>This time it was Hill who started, and his face flushed. "I -don't quite understand."</p> - -<p>"You will soon. I told you the history of my life, Allen, so -that I might lead up to this. I wrote to my father at Cape -Town, telling him I loved you, and that Mr. Hill was pleased we -should be engaged."</p> - -<p>"My father was delighted," put in Allen quickly.</p> - -<p>"So I said. My father never replied to my letter save in sending -a cablegram stating he was coming home in the <i>Dunoon Castle</i>.. -When he was at Southampton, he wrote, saying I was not to think -of marrying you, and that he would tell me of his plans for my -future when he returned to Wargrove. He decided to remain for a -week in London, and yesterday he wired that he was coming home -to-night. So you see, Allen," Eva rested her head on her lover's -shoulder, "he will part us."</p> - -<p>"No!" cried Hill, rising and looking very tall and strong and -determined, "he will never do that. What reason----"</p> - -<p>"My father is a man who will refuse to give his reason."</p> - -<p>"Not to me," rejoined the other hotly. "Mr. Strode will not dare -to dismiss me in so easy and off-hand a fashion. I love you, Eva, -and I marry you, whatever your father may say. Unless," he caught -her hands as she rose, and stared deep into her eyes, "unless you -leave me."</p> - -<p>"No! no! I never will do that, Allen. Come what may, I'll be -true."</p> - -<p>Then followed an interlude of kisses, and afterwards the two, -hand in hand, walked across the common on their way to Misery -Castle. It was not seven o'clock, but the twilight was growing -darker. "Do you know what your father's plans are?" asked Allen, -as they stepped out on to the deserted and dusty road.</p> - -<p>"No. I know nothing save what I tell you. And my dream----"</p> - -<p>"Dearest, put the dream out of your head. If it is any comfort to -you, I'll go to the Red Deeps tonight. Do you think I'll find a -dead body there?" he asked, laughing.</p> - -<p>"Not if you go before nine o'clock. The dream was at nine last night."</p> - -<p>"But your father will be home at eight, Eva?"</p> - -<p>"I hope so," she murmured.</p> - -<p>"You are so foolishly superstitious," said Allen, pressing her arm -which was within his own; "you dear little goose, don't you see that -if your father comes to Misery Castle at eight, he can't possibly -be lying dead in the Red Deeps at nine. When did you last hear from -him, Eva?"</p> - -<p>"Yesterday morning. He wired that he would be down at eight this -evening."</p> - -<p>"Well then, he was alive then, and is stopping in town on -business as you said. He will come to Westhaven by the train -arriving at six-thirty and will drive over."</p> - -<p>"The road passes the Red Deeps," insisted Eva.</p> - -<p>"How obstinate you are, Eva," said Allen, contracting his forehead; -"I tell you what I'll do to set your mind at rest; you know he is -alive now?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I suppose so. I got that wire yesterday morning."</p> - -<p>"Well then, I'll set off to the Red Deeps at once, and will get -there just at eight. I may meet Mr. Strode coming along in the -fly, and if so I'll follow it back to Misery Castle, so as to see -him safely home. If I don't, I'll go to the Red Deeps, and if any -attack is made on him, I'll be there to give him a hand."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Allen. I should be more at ease if you did that."</p> - -<p>"Then it shall be done," said Allen, kissing her, "but I feel -that I am encouraging you in superstitious fancies."</p> - -<p>"My dream was so vivid."</p> - -<p>"Pooh. Indigestion."</p> - -<p>"Then Mr. Hill hinted that my father might not return."</p> - -<p>"Well then, I'll ask him what he meant, and explain when we meet -again."</p> - -<p>"If we ever do meet," sighed Eva, stopping at the gate.</p> - -<p>"You will be true to me, Eva?"</p> - -<p>"Always--always--always. There--there," she kissed him under the -friendly shelter of the sycamore and ran indoors.</p> - -<p>Allen turned on his heel in high spirits, and set out for the -Red Deeps. At first he laughed at Eva's dream and Eva's -superstition. But as he walked on in the gathering darkness, he -felt as though the future also was growing more gloomy. He -recalled his own feelings of the girl's dress dappled with -blood, and of her flying form. Again he felt the "grue," and -cursed himself for an old woman. "I'll find nothing--nothing," -he said, trying to laugh.</p> - -<p>But the shadow of the dream, which was also the shadow of the -future, fell upon him darker than ever.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER III</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">THE NE'ER-DO-WEEL</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Anxious to make the best impression on her father, Eva Strode ran up -to her room to put on an evening gown. Mr. Strode supplied her -liberally with money, for whatever his faults may have been, he -certainly was not mean; therefore she possessed a fairly extensive -wardrobe. She did not see Mrs. Merry on entering the cottage, as that -good lady was occupied in looking after the dinner in the little -back-kitchen. The table was laid, however, and after making herself -smart, Eva descended to add a few finishing touches in the shape of -flowers.</p> - -<p>Cheered by the view Allen took of her dream, and still more by the -fact that he had gone to the Red Deeps, Eva arranged many roses, red -and white, in a great silver bowl which had belonged to her mother. As -a matter of fact, Eva had been born in Misery Castle, and being sickly -as a baby, had been christened hurriedly in the cottage out of the -bowl, an heirloom of the Delham family. Mrs. Merry had taken -possession of it, knowing, that if Lady Jane took it away, her husband -would speedily turn it into money. Therefore, Mrs. Merry being a -faithful guardian, the bowl was still in the cottage, and on this -night Eva used it as a centrepiece to the prettily decorated table. -And it did look pretty. The cloth was whiter than snow, the silver -sparkled and the crystal glittered, while the roses blooming in the -massive bowl added a touch of needed colour.</p> - -<p>There were evidences of Eva's taste in the small dining-room. Mrs. -Merry had furnished it, certainly, but Eva had spent much of her -pocket-money in decorating the room. Everything was charming and -dainty and intensely feminine. Any one could see at a glance that it -was a true woman's room. And Eva in her black gauze dress, -bare-necked and bare-armed, flitted gracefully about the tiny -apartment. Her last act was to light the red-shaded lamp which hung -low over the table. The window she left open and the blind up, as the -night was hot, and the breeze which cooled the room made the place -more bearable.</p> - -<p>"It's quite pretty," said Eva, standing back against the door to get -the effect of the glittering table and the red light and the flowers. -"If father is dissatisfied he must be hard to please," she sighed, -"and from what Nanny says, I fear he is. A quarter to eight, he'll be -here soon. I'd better see when the dinner will be ready."</p> - -<p>But before doing so, she went to the front door and listened for the -sound of wheels. She certainly heard them, but the vehicle was -driving towards, and not from, the common. Apparently Mr. Strode was -not yet at hand, so she went to the kitchen. To her surprise she -heard voices. One was that of Mrs. Merry, querulous as usual, and the -other a rich, soft, melodious voice which Eva knew only too well. It -was that of her foster-brother Cain.</p> - -<p>This name was another of Mrs. Merry's eccentricities. Her husband, -showing the brute within him a year after marriage, had disillusioned -his poor wife very speedily. He was drunk when the boy was born, and -still drunk when the boy was christened; Mrs. Merry therefore -insisted that the boy would probably take after his father, and -requested that the name of Cain should be given to him. The -curate objected, but Mrs. Merry being firm and the curate weak, the -boy was actually called after Adam's eldest son. Had the rector -been at home such a scandal--as he regarded it--would not have -occurred, but Mr. Quain was absent on a holiday, and returned to -find an addition to his flock in the baby person of Cain Merry. The -lad grew up handsome enough, but sufficiently wild and wicked to -justify his mother's choice of a name. Yet he had his good moments, -and might have improved had not his mother nagged him into -wrong-doing.</p> - -<p>"Well, Cain," said Eva, entering the kitchen, "so you're back?"</p> - -<p>"Like a bad penny," cried Mrs. Merry, viciously stabbing some potatoes -with a fork; "six months he's been away, and----"</p> - -<p>"And I'd remained longer if I'd thought of getting this welcome, -mother," growled Cain sulkily. "But I might have known."</p> - -<p>He was a remarkably handsome lad of eighteen, almost as dark as Allen -Hill. As Mr. Merry had gipsy blood in his veins, it was probable -that Cain inherited the nature and looks of some splendid -Romany ancestor. With his smooth dark skin, under which the -rich red blood mantled, his eyes large and black as night, and -clearly-cut features, Cain looked as handsome as a picture. Not -even the rough dress he wore, which was that of a labourer, could -disguise his fine figure and youthful grace. He looked like a young -panther, sleek, beautiful, and dangerous. Cap on head, he leaned -against the jamb of the outer door--his mother would not allow him to -come further--and seemed a young Apollo, so slim and graceful did he -appear. But Mrs. Merry, gesticulating with the fork, had no eye for -his good looks. He reminded her too much of the absent Merry, who was -just such a splendid outlaw, when he won her to a bitterly regretted -marriage. Cain, meeting with so unpleasant a reception, was sulky and -inclined to be defiant, until Eva entered. Then he removed his cap, -and became wonderfully meek. He was fond of his foster-sister, who -could do much with him.</p> - -<p>"When did you come back, Cain?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Ten minutes ago, and mother's been ragging me ever since," he -replied; "flesh and blood can't stand it, Miss Eva, I'll go."</p> - -<p>"No you won't," struck in Mrs. Merry, "you'll stop and give the mother -who bore you--worse luck--the pleasure of your company."</p> - -<p>Cain grinned in a sleepy manner. "Not much pleasure for me."</p> - -<p>"Nor for me, you great hulking creature," said Mrs. Merry, -threatening him with a fork. "I thought you'd grow up to be a -comfort to me, but look at you----"</p> - -<p>"If you thought I'd be a comfort, why did you call me Cain, mother?"</p> - -<p>"Because I knew what you'd turn out," contradicted Mrs. Merry, "just -like your father, oh, dear me, just like him. Have you seen anything -of your father, Cain?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Cain stolidly, "and I don't want to."</p> - -<p>"That's right, deny the author of your being. Your father, who -was always a bad one, left me fifteen years ago, just after you -were born. The cottage was not then my own, or he'd never have -left me. But there, thank heaven," cried Mrs. Merry, throwing up -her eyes to the smoky ceiling, "father didn't die and leave me -well off, till Giles went! Since that I've heard nothing of him. -He was reported dead----"</p> - -<p>"You said you heard nothing of him, mother," put in Cain, smiling.</p> - -<p>"Don't show your teeth in that way at your mother," snapped Mrs. -Merry, "what I say, I say, and no mistake. Your father was -reported dead, and as he's left me for seven years and more, I -could marry again, if I were such a fool. But I haven't, hoping -you'd be a comfort to the mother who brought you into the world. -But you were always a bad boy, Cain. You played truant from -school, you ran away to become a navvy at thirteen, and again and -again you came back in rags."</p> - -<p>"I'm not in rags now," said Cain, restive under this tongue.</p> - -<p>"Then you must have stolen the clothes," retorted his mother; "I'll be -bound you didn't come by them honestly: not as they're much."</p> - -<p>While this pleasant conversation was going on Eva stood mute. She -knew of old how impossible it was to stop Mrs. Merry's tongue, and -thought it best to let her talk herself out. But the last speech -made Cain laugh, and he was cool enough to wink at Eva. She knew -Cain so intimately, and really liked him so much in spite of his -wickedness, that she did not take offence, but strove to turn from -him the wrathful speech of his mother.</p> - -<p>"I am sure Cain has turned over a new leaf," she said, smiling.</p> - -<p>"He's turned over volumes of 'em," groaned Mrs. Merry, dashing -down a pot on the range, "but each page is worst nor the last. -Oh, I know what I'm saying," she went on triumphantly. "I was a -farmer's daughter and had three years' schooling, not to speak of -having mixed with the aristocracy in the person of your dear ma, -Miss Eva, and your own blessed self as is always a lady. But -Cain--oh, look at him."</p> - -<p>"He looks very well," said Eva, "and he looks hungry. Don't you -think you might give him a meal, Mrs. Merry?"</p> - -<p>"Kill the fatted calf, as you might say," suggested Cain impudently.</p> - -<p>"Calf!" screeched Mrs. Merry, "you're one yourself, Cain, to talk -like that with Miss Eva present. Ain't you got no respect?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Eva knows I mean no harm," said the goaded Cain.</p> - -<p>"Of course you don't," said Miss Strode; "come, Mrs. Merry, the boy's -home for good now."</p> - -<p>"For bad, you mean."</p> - -<p>"I'm not home at all," said Cain unexpectedly. "I'm working at -Westhaven, but I came over just to see my mother. If she -don't want me I can go back to those who do," and he turned -to go.</p> - -<p>"No. Stop," cried Mrs. Merry, whose bark was worse than her -bite. "I shan't let a growing lad like you tramp back all them ten -miles with a starving inside. Wait till I get this dinner off my mind, -and the pair of us will sit down like Christians to eat it."</p> - -<p>Eva stared and laughed. "You forget nurse: this dinner is for my -father. He should be here in a few minutes."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry turned grey. "I ain't forgot your dream, my dear. -He'll never eat it for want of breath, nor you for sorrow. Now, -Cain----"</p> - -<p>Miss Strode, who had a temper of her own, stamped a pretty slippered -foot imperiously. "Hold your tongue, Mrs. Merry," she cried, the -colour rising in her cheeks, "my father will arrive."</p> - -<p>The old woman glanced at the American clock which stood on the -mantelpiece. The small hand pointed to eight. "He ain't come yet."</p> - -<p>"Cain," said Eva, turning, still flushed, to the lad, "you came along -the Westhaven road?"</p> - -<p>Cain nodded. "Twenty minutes ago, Miss Eva," said he.</p> - -<p>"Did you see my father? No, you don't remember my father. Did you -see a fly coming along?"</p> - -<p>"No. But then I didn't come along the road all the time. I took a -short cut across country, Miss Eva. I'll just have a meal with -mother, and then go back to my business."</p> - -<p>"And what is your business, I'd like to know?" questioned Mrs. Merry -sharply; "a fine business it must be to take you from your mother."</p> - -<p>"I'm in a circus."</p> - -<p>"What, riding on horses in tights!" cried Mrs. Merry aghast.</p> - -<p>"No such luck. I'm only a groom. I got the billet when I was in -London, and glad enough I was, seeing how hard up I've been. It's -Stag's Circus and a good show. I hope you'll come over to Shanton -to-morrow, Miss Eva; there's a performance at night, and you'll see -some riding. Ah, Miss Lorry can ride a bit!"</p> - -<p>"Miss who?" asked Eva, who, with the kitchen door open, was straining -her ears to hear if Mr. Strode was coming.</p> - -<p>"Some low female, I'll be bound," snorted Mrs. Merry. "I've seen 'em -dancing in pink stockings and raddling their brazen cheeks with -paint. She's no better than she ought to be, not she, say what you -like."</p> - -<p>Cain grew angry. "You're quite wrong, mother," said he. "Miss Lorry is -very much respected. She rides her own horse, White Robin, and has -appeared before crowned heads. She's billed as the Queen of the Arena, -and is a thing of beauty."</p> - -<p>"Ha!" said Mrs. Merry sharply, "and you love her. Ho! You that told -me you loved that freckle-faced, snub-nosed Jane Wasp, the daughter -o' that upsetting Wasp policeman, with his duty-chatter, and----"</p> - -<p>"I don't love any one," said Cain, putting on his cap; "and if you -talk like that I'll go."</p> - -<p>"To marry a circus rider. Never enter my doors again if you do. I've -got this cottage and fifty pounds a year, inherited from my father, to -leave, remember."</p> - -<p>"Dear nurse," said Eva soothingly, "Cain has no idea of marrying."</p> - -<p>"Miss Lorry wouldn't have me if I had," said Cain sadly, though his -black eyes flashed fire; "why, Lord Saltars is after her."</p> - -<p>"What!" shrieked Mrs. Merry, turning sharply. "Miss Eva's cousin?"</p> - -<p>Cain looked astonished. "Is he your cousin?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Cain--a distant cousin. He is the eldest son of Lord Ipsen. -My mother was the daughter of the last Earl. Is he in Westhaven?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, miss. He follows the circus everywhere, for love of her." -"We don't want to hear about those things," said Mrs. Merry sharply; -"leave your Lorries and rubbish alone, and go and wash in my room. -I'll get the dinner ready soon, and then we can sit down for a chat."</p> - -<p>"Another bullying," grumbled Cain, throwing down his cap and -preparing to take a seat. But he never did. At that moment there came -a long shrill whistle with several modulations like a bird's note. -Cain started, and cocked his handsome head on one side. The whistle -was repeated, upon which, without a word either to his mother or Miss -Strode, he dashed out of the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"There," said Mrs. Merry, waving the fork, "to treat his own lawful -mother in that way--to say nothing of you, Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>"He'll come back soon," replied Eva.</p> - -<p>"Oh, he will, if there's money and food about. But he'll get neither, -after behaving in that way. That my son should belong to a circus! -Ah, I always said Cain was born for the gallows, like his father."</p> - -<p>"But you don't know if his father----"</p> - -<p>"I know what I know," replied Mrs. Merry with dignity, "which is to -say, nothing. But Giles is what Giles was, and has everything -likely to bring him to a rope's end. I'll be the wife of one -hanged man," added the old woman with relish, "and the mother of -another. Then my cup of misery will be full enough. But, bless -me, Miss Eva, don't stay here, getting that pretty dress all -greasy. Go and wait for your pa in the doring-room, and I'll -bring in the dinner as soon as I hear him swearing--for swear he -will, if he arrive."</p> - -<p>"Of course he'll arrive," said Eva impatiently, looking at the -clock, which now indicated five minutes past eight; "he's a -little late."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry shook her head. "He'll not come. He's in the Red Deeps, -lying face downward in the mud."</p> - -<p>Eva grew angry at this persistent pessimism, but nothing she -could say or do, was able to change Mrs. Merry's opinion. Finding -that more talk with the prophetess only made her angry, Eva -returned to the front of the house, and, sitting in the -drawing-room, took up the last fashionable novel which she had -borrowed. But not all the talent of the author was able to -enchain her attention. She kept thinking of her father and of the -Red Deeps, and kept also looking at the clock. It was drawing to -nine when she went again to the front door, subsequently to the -gate.</p> - -<p>There was no sign of Cain coming back. He had appeared like a -ghost and had vanished as one. Why the whistle should have made -him turn pale and take so abrupt a departure, Eva was not able -to say. Moreover, the non-arrival of her father fully occupied -her attention. She could not believe that her dream, vivid as it -had been, would prove true and set down her nervous fears, which -were now beginning to get the upper hand, to Mrs. Merry's chatter. -That old woman appeared at her elbow while she leaned over the -gate, looking down the road.</p> - -<p>"He ain't come," croaked Mrs. Merry. "Bless you, deary, of course -he ain't. I know where he is, and you saw him in your dream."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense," said Eva, and ran out on to the road. A few people were -passing--mostly villagers, but Eva was well known and no one was -surprised at seeing her hatless. Even if any one had expressed -surprise, she was too anxious to trouble much about public opinion.</p> - -<p>"Aaron," she asked an old man who came trudging down from the common, -"did you see my father coming along in a fly?"</p> - -<p>"Why, miss," said Aaron scratching his shock head, "it's a matter -of five year since I saw your father, and I don't rightly know as -I'd tell him. But I ain't seen nothing but carts this evening, ay, -and you might say bicycles."</p> - -<p>"No fly?"</p> - -<p>"Not one, miss. Good-evening. I dare say your father will walk, -miss, by reason of the hot evening."</p> - -<p>This suggestion was the very reverse of what Mr. Strode would do, -he being a gentleman mindful of his own comfort. However, after the -rustic had departed, Eva ran up as far as the common. There was no -sign of any vehicle, so she returned to the cottage. Mrs. Merry met -her at the door.</p> - -<p>"The dinner spiling," said Mrs. Merry crossly; "do come and eat -some, Miss Eva, and I'll keep the dishes hot."</p> - -<p>"No, I'll wait till my father comes. Is Cain back?"</p> - -<p>"Not a sign of him. But, lor bless you, deary, I never expected -it, not me. He's gone to his circuses; to think that a son of -mine----"</p> - -<p>But the girl was in no humour to hear the lamentations of Mrs. -Merry over the decay of her family, and returned to the -drawing-room. There she sat down again and began to read--or try -to.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry came in at half-past nine, and brought a cup of tea, -with a slice of toast. Eva drank the tea, but declined the -toast, and the old woman retired angrily, to remove the -spoilt dinner. Then Eva played a game of patience, and at ten -threw down the cards in despair. The non-arrival of her -father, coupled with her dream, made her restless and uneasy. -"I wish Allen would return," she said aloud. But Allen never -appeared, although by now he had ample time to reach the Red -Deeps and to return therefrom. It was in Eva's mind to go to -Mr. Hill's house, which was at the further end of Wargrove -village, but a mindful thought of Mr. Hill's jokes, which were -usually irritating, made her hesitate. She therefore went back to -the kitchen, and spoke to Mrs. Merry, who was crooning over the -fire.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing?" she asked snappishly, for her nerves, poor girl, -were worn thin by this time.</p> - -<p>"I'm waiting for the body," said Mrs. Merry grimly.</p> - -<p>Eva bit her lip to keep down her anger, and returned to the -drawing-room, where she wandered hopelessly up and down. While -straining her ears she heard footsteps and ran to the door. It -proved to be a telegraph boy, dusty and breathless. Eva -snatched the wire from him, although she was surprised at its -late arrival. As she opened the envelope, the boy explained -needlessly--</p> - -<p>"It come at four," he said, "and I forgot to bring it, so the Head -sent me on all these ten mile, miss, at this hour by way of -punishment. And I ain't had no supper," added the injured youth.</p> - -<p>But Eva did not heed him. She was reading the wire, which said that -Mr. Strode had postponed his departure from town till the morrow, -and would then be down by mid-day. "There's no reply," said Eva curtly, -and went to the kitchen for the fifth time that evening. The messenger -boy grumbled at not getting a shilling for his trouble, quite -forgetting that the late arrival of the wire was due to his own -carelessness. He banged the front gate angrily, and shortly rode off -on his red-painted bicycle.</p> - -<p>"My father's coming to-morrow," said Eva, showing the telegram.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry read it, and gave back the pink paper. "Let them believe it -as does believe," said she, "but he'll not come."</p> - -<p>"But the wire is signed by himself, you stupid woman," said Eva.</p> - -<p>"Well and good," said Mrs. Merry, "but dreams are dreams, whatever you -may say, deary. Your pa was coming before and put it off; now he put -it off again, and----"</p> - -<p>"Then you believe he sent the wire. There, there, I know you will -contradict me," said Miss Strode crossly, "I'm going to bed."</p> - -<p>"You'll be woke up soon," cried Mrs. Merry after her; "them knocks----"</p> - -<p>Eva heard no more. She went to her room, and, wearied out by -waiting and anxiety, retired speedily to bed. Mrs. Merry remained -seated before the kitchen fire, and even when twelve struck she -did not move. The striking of the clock woke Eva. She sat up -half asleep, but was speedily wide awake. She heard footsteps, -and listened breathlessly. A sharp knock came to the front door. -Then four soft knocks. With a cry she sprang from her bed, and -ran to the door. Mrs. Merry met her, and kept her back.</p> - -<p>"They've brought him home, miss," she said; "the dream's come true."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IV</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">MYSTERY</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Hill's house at the far end of the village was an -eccentric building. Originally it had been a labourer's -cottage, and stood by itself, a stone-throw away from the crooked -highway which bisected Wargrove. On arriving in the neighbourhood -some twenty-five years before, Mr. Hill had bought the cottage and -five acres of land around. These he enclosed with a high wall of red -brick, and then set to work to turn the cottage into a mansion. As -he was his own architect, the result was a strange mingling of -styles.</p> - -<p>The original cottage remained much as it was, with a thatched roof and -whitewashed walls. But to the left, rose a round tower built quite -in the mediæval style, to the right stretched a two-story mansion -with oriel windows, a terrace and Tudor battlements. At the back of -this, the building suddenly changed to a bungalow with a tropical -verandah, and the round tower stood at the end of a range of buildings -built in the Roman fashion with sham marble pillars, and mosaic -encrusted walls. Within, the house was equally eccentric. There was a -Spanish patio, turned, for the sake of the climate, into a winter -garden and roofed with glass. The dining-room was Jacobean, the -drawing-room was furnished in the Louis Quatorze style, Mr. Hill's -library was quite an old English room with casements and a low roof. -There were many bedrooms built in the severe graceful Greek fashion, -a large marble swimming-bath after the ancient Roman type, and Mr. -Hill possessed a Japanese room, all bamboo furniture and quaintly -pictured walls, for his more frivolous moods. Finally there was the -music-room with a great organ, and this room was made in the -similitude of a church. On these freaks and fancies Mr. Hill spent a -good deal of money, and the result was an <i>olla-podrida</i> of -buildings, jumbled together without rhyme or reason. Such a -mansion--if it could be called so--might exist in a nightmare, but -only Mr. Hill could have translated it into fact. Within and -without, the place was an example of many moods. It illustrated -perfectly the mind of its architect and owner.</p> - -<p>Allen's father was a small, delicate, dainty little man with a large -head and a large voice, which boomed like a gong when he was angry. -The man's head was clever and he had a fine forehead, but there was -a streak of madness in him, which led him to indulge himself in -whatever mood came uppermost. He did not exercise the least -self-control, and expected all around him to give way to his whims, -which were many and not always agreeable. Some one called Mr. Hill a -brownie, and he was not unlike the pictures of that queer race of -elves. His body was shapely enough, but as his legs were thin and -slightly twisted, these, with his large head, gave him a strange -appearance. His face was clean-shaven, pink and white, with no -wrinkles. He had a beautifully formed mouth and a set of splendid -teeth. His fair hair, slightly--very slightly--streaked with grey, -he wore long, and had a trick of passing his hand through it when he -thought he had said anything clever. His hands were delicate--real -artistic hands--but his feet were large and ill-formed. He strove -always to hide these by wearing wide trousers. Both in winter and -summer he wore a brown velvet coat and white serge trousers, no -waistcoat, and a frilled shirt with a waist-band of some gaudy Eastern -stuff sparkling with gold thread and rainbow hues. When he went out, -he wore a straw hat with a gigantic brim, and as he was considerably -under the ordinary height, he looked strange in this headgear. But -however queer his garb may have been in the daytime, at night Mr. Hill -was always accurately attired in evening dress of the latest cut, and -appeared a quiet, if somewhat odd, English gentleman.</p> - -<p>This strange creature lived on his emotions. One day he would be all -gaiety and mirth; the next morning would see him silent and sad. At -times he played the organ, the piano, the violin; again he would take -to painting; then he would write poems, and anon his mood would change -to a religious one. Not that he was truly religious. He was a -Theosophist, a Spiritualist, sometimes a Roman Catholic, and at times -a follower of Calvin. Lately he fancied that he would like to be a -Buddhist. His library, a large one, was composed of various books -bought in different moods, which illustrated--like his house--the -queer jumbled mind of the man. Yet with all his eccentricity Mr. Hill -was far from being mad. He was clever at a bargain, and took good care -of the wealth, which he had inherited from his father, who had been a -stockbroker. At times Mr. Hill could talk cleverly and in a -businesslike way; at others, he was all fantasy and vague dreams. -Altogether an irritating creature. People said they wondered how Mrs. -Hill could put up with such a changeling in the house.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill put up with it--though the general public did not know -this--simply for the sake of Allen, whom she adored. It was strange -that Allen, tall, stalwart, practical, and quiet, with a steadfast -mind and an open nature, should be the son of the freakish creature -he called father. But the young man was in every way his mother's -son. Mrs. Hill was tall, lean, and quiet in manner. Like Mrs. Merry, -she usually wore black, and she moved silently about the house, never -speaking, unless she was spoken too. Originally she had been a bright -girl, but marriage with the brownie had sobered her. Several times -during her early married life she was on the point of leaving Hill, -thinking she had married a madman, but when Allen was born, Mrs. Hill -resolved to endure her lot for the sake of the boy. Hill had the -money, and would not allow the control of it to pass out of his -hands. Mrs. Hill had come to him a pauper, the daughter of an -aristocratic scamp who had gambled away a fortune. Therefore, so that -Allen might inherit his father's wealth, which was considerable, the -poor woman bore with her strange husband. Not that Hill was unkind. -He was simply selfish, emotional, exacting, and irritating. Mrs. Hill -never interfered with his whims, knowing from experience that -interference would be useless. She was a cypher in the house, and -left everything to her husband. Hill looked after the servants, -arranged the meals, ordered the routine, and danced through life like -an industrious butterfly.</p> - -<p>As to Allen, he had speedily found that such a life was unbearable, -and for the most part remained away. He had early gone to a public -school, and had left it for college; then he had studied in London -to be an engineer and took the first opportunity to procure work -beyond the seas. He wrote constantly to his mother, but hardly ever -corresponded with his father. When he came to England he stopped at -"The Arabian Nights"--so the jumbled house was oddly named by its -odd owner--but always, he had gone away in a month. On this -occasion the meeting with Eva kept him in Wargrove, and he wished -to be sure of her father's consent to the match before he went back -to South America. Meantime his partner carried on the business in -Cuzco. Mr. Hill was not ill pleased that Allen should stop, as he -was really fond of his son in his own elfish way. Also he approved -of the engagement to Eva, for whose beauty he had a great admiration.</p> - -<p>On the morning after Mr. Strode's expected arrival, the three -people who dwelt in "The Arabian Nights' were seated in the -Jacobean dining-room. Mr. Hill, in his invariable brown velvet coat -with a rose in his buttonhole and a shining morning face, was -devouring <i>pâté-de-foie-gras</i> sandwiches, and drinking claret. At -times he took a regular English egg-and-bacon coffee and marmalade -breakfast, but he varied his meals as much as he did his -amusements. One morning, bread and milk; the next he would imitate -Daniel and his friends to the extent of living on pulse and water; -then a Continental roll and coffee would appeal to him; and -finally, as on the present occasion, he would eat viands more -suited to a luncheon than to a breakfast. However, on this especial -morning he announced that he was in a musical mood, and intended -to compose during the day.</p> - -<p>"Therefore," said Mr. Hill, sipping his claret and trifling with -his sandwiches, "the stomach must not be laden with food. This," -he touched the sandwiches, "is nourishment to sustain life, during -the struggle with melody, and the wine is of a delicate thin -nature which maketh the heart glad without leading to the vice of -intoxication. Burgundy, I grant you, is too heavy. Champagne might -do much to raise the airy fancy, but I believe in claret, which -makes blood; and the brain during the agonies of composition needs -a placid flow of blood."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill smiled wearily at this speech and went on eating. She -and Allen were engaged in disposing of a regular English meal, -but neither seemed to enjoy the food. Mrs. Hill, silent and -unemotional, ate like one who needs food to live, and not as -though she cared for the victuals. Allen looked pale and -haggard. His face was white, and there were dark circles under -his eyes as though he had not slept.</p> - -<p>"Late hours," said his father, staring at him shrewdly; "did I -not hear you come in at two o'clock, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir;" Allen always addressed his parent in this stiff -fashion. "I was unavoidably late."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill cast an anxious look at his face, and her husband -finished his claret before making any reply. Then he spoke, folding -up his napkin as he did so. "When I gave you a latchkey," said Mr. -Hill in his deep, rich voice, "I did not expect it to be used -after midnight. Even the gayest of young men should be in bed -before that unholy hour."</p> - -<p>"I wasn't very gay," said Allen listlessly; "the fact is, father, I -sprained my ankle last night four miles away."</p> - -<p>"In what direction."</p> - -<p>"The Westhaven direction. I was going to the Red Deeps, and while -going I twisted my ankle. I lay on the moor--I was half way across -when I fell--for a long time waiting for help. As none came, I -managed to crawl home, and so reached here at two. I came on all -fours."</p> - -<p>"Humph," said Hill, "it's lucky Wasp didn't see you. With his ideas of -duty he would have run you in for being drunk."</p> - -<p>"I think I could have convinced Wasp to the contrary," said Allen -drily; "my mother bathed my ankle, and it is easier this morning."</p> - -<p>"But you should not have come down to breakfast," said Mrs. Hill.</p> - -<p>"It would have put my father out, had I not come, mother."</p> - -<p>"Quite so," said Mr. Hill; "I am glad to hear that you try to -behave as a son. Besides, self-denial makes a man," added Mr. Hill, -who never denied himself anything. "Strange, Allen, I did not -notice that you limped--and I am an observant man."</p> - -<p>"I was seated here before you came down," his son reminded him.</p> - -<p>"True," said Mr. Hill, rising; "it is one of my late mornings. I was -dreaming of an opera. I intend, Allen, to compose an opera. -Saccharissa," thus he addressed Mrs. Hill, who was called plain -Sarah, "do you hear? I intend to immortalise myself."</p> - -<p>"I hear," said Saccharissa, quite unmoved. She had heard before, of -these schemes to immortalise Mr. Hill.</p> - -<p>"I shall call my opera 'Gwendoline,'" said Mr. Hill, passing his hand -through his hair; "it will be a Welsh opera. I don't think any one has -ever composed a Welsh opera, Allen."</p> - -<p>"I can't call one to mind, sir," said Allen, his eyes on his plate.</p> - -<p>"The opening chorus," began Mr. Hill, full of his theme, "will be----"</p> - -<p>"One moment, sir," interrupted Allen, who was not in the mood for this -trifling, "I want to ask you a question."</p> - -<p>"No! no! no! You will disturb the current of my thoughts. Would you -have the world lose a masterpiece, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"It is a very simple question, sir. Will you see Mr. Strode to-day?"</p> - -<p>Hill, who was looking out of the window and humming a theme for his -opening chorus, turned sharply. "Certainly not. I am occupied."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Strode is your oldest and best friend," urged Allen.</p> - -<p>"He has proved that by taking money from me," said Hill, with a -deep laugh. "Why should I see him?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to put in a good word for me and Eva. Of course," Allen -raised his eyes abruptly and looked directly at his father, "you -expected to see him this morning?"</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't," snapped the composer. "Strode and I were friends at -school and college, certainly, but we met rarely in after life. The -last time I saw him was when he brought his wife down here."</p> - -<p>"Poor Lady Jane," sighed Mrs. Hill, who was seated with folded hands.</p> - -<p>"You may well say that, Saccharissa. She was wedded to a clown----"</p> - -<p>"I thought Mr. Strode was a clever and cultured man," said Allen -drily.</p> - -<p>"He should have been," said Mr. Hill, waving his hand and then -sticking it into the breast of his shirt. "I did my best to form him. -But flowers will not grow in clay, and Strode was made of stodgy clay. -A poor creature, and very quarrelsome."</p> - -<p>"That doesn't sound like stodgy clay, sir."</p> - -<p>"He varied, Allen, he varied. At times the immortal fire he buried in -his unfruitful soil would leap out at my behest; but for the most -part Strode was an uncultured yokel. The lambent flame of my fancy, -my ethereal fancy, played on the mass harmlessly, or with small -result. I could not submit to be bound even by friendship to such a -clod, so I got rid of Strode. And how did I do it? I lent him two -thousand pounds, and not being able to repay it, shame kept him away. -Cheap at the price--cheap at the price. Allen, how does this theme -strike you for an opening chorus of Druids--modern Druids, of course? -The scene is at Anglesea----"</p> - -<p>"Wait, father. You hinted the other morning that Mr. Strode would -never come back to Wargrove."</p> - -<p>"Did I?" said Mr. Hill in an airy manner; "I forget."</p> - -<p>"What grounds had you to say that?"</p> - -<p>"Grounds--oh, my dear Allen, are you so commonplace as to demand -grounds. I forget my train of thought just then--the fancy has -vanished: but I am sure that my grounds were such as you would not -understand. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>"I may as well be frank," began Allen, when his father stopped him.</p> - -<p>"No. It is so obvious to be frank. And to-day I am in an enigmatic -mood--music is an enigma, and therefore I wish to be mysterious."</p> - -<p>"I may as well be frank," repeated Allen doggedly, and doggedness -was the only way to meet such a trifler as Mr. Hill. "I saw Eva last -night, and she related a dream she had."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Mr. Hill spun round vivaciously--"now you talk sense. I love -the psychic. A dream! Can Eva dream?--such a matter-of-fact girl."</p> - -<p>"Indeed she's no such thing, sir," said the indignant lover.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me. You are not a reader of character as I am. Eva Strode at -present possesses youth, to cover a commonplace soul. When she gets -old and the soul works through the mask of the face, she will be a -common-looking woman like your mother."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Allen, at this double insult. But Mrs. Hill laid her -hand on his arm, and the touch quietened him. It was useless to -be angry with so irresponsible a creature as Mr. Hill. "I must -tell you the dream," said Allen with an effort, "and then you can -judge if Eva is what you say."</p> - -<p>"I wait for the dream," replied Mr. Hill, waving his arm airily; -"but it will not alter my opinion. She is commonplace, that is -why I agreed to your engagement. You are commonplace also--you -take after your mother."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill rose quite undisturbed. "I had better go," she said.</p> - -<p>"By all means, Saccharissa," said Hill graciously; "to-day in my -music mood I am a butterfly. You disturb me. Life with me must -be sunshine this day, but you are a creature of gloom."</p> - -<p>"Wait a moment, mother," said Allen, catching Mrs. Hill's hand as -she moved quietly to the door, "I want you to hear Eva's dream."</p> - -<p>"Which certainly will not be worth listening to," said the -butterfly. Allen passed over this fresh piece of insolence, -although he secretly wondered how his mother took such talk -calmly. He recounted the dream in detail. "So I went to the Red -Deeps at Eva's request," he finished, "to see if her dream was -true. I never thought it would be, of course; but I went to -pacify her. But when I left the road to take a short cut to the -Red Deeps, about four miles from Wargrove, I twisted my ankle, as -I said, and after waiting, crawled home, to arrive here at two -o'clock."</p> - -<p>"Why do you tell me this dream--which is interesting, I admit?" -asked Mr. Hill irritably, and with a rather dark face.</p> - -<p>"Because you said that Mr. Strode would never come home. Eva's -dream hinted at the same thing. Why did you----?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Mr. Hill, sitting down with a smile. -"I will endeavour to recall my mood when I spoke." He thought for -a few minutes, then touched his forehead. "The mood taps here," -said he playfully. "Allen, my son, you don't know Strode; I do. A -truculent ruffian, determined to have money at any cost."</p> - -<p>"I always heard he was a polished gentleman," objected Allen.</p> - -<p>"Oh, quite so. The public school life and university polish gave -him manners for society: I don't deny that. But when you -scratched the skin, the swashbuckler broke out. Do you know how -he came to lose his right hand, Allen? No. I could tell you that, -but the story is too long, and my brain is not in its literary -vein this day. If I could sing it, I would, but the theme is -prosaic. Well, to come to the point, Allen, Strode, though a -gentleman, is a swashbuckler. Out in Africa he has been trying to -make money, and has done so at the cost of making enemies."</p> - -<p>"Who told you so?"</p> - -<p>"Let me see--oh, his lawyer, who is also mine. In fact, I -introduced him to Mask, my solicitor. I went up a few months ago to -see Mask about some business, and asked after Strode; for though -the man is a baron of the middle ages and a ruffian, still he is my -friend. Mask told me that Strode was making money and enemies at -the same time. When you informed me, Allen, that Strode was coming -home in the <i>Dunoon Castle</i>., and that he had arrived at -Southampton, I thought some of his enemies might have followed him, -and might have him arrested for swindling. In that case, he -certainly would not arrive."</p> - -<p>"But how do you know that Mr. Strode would swindle?"</p> - -<p>"Because he was a man with no moral principles," retorted Mr. Hill; -"your mother here will tell you the same."</p> - -<p>"I did not like Mr. Strode," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "he was not -what I call a good man. Eva takes after Lady Jane, who was always -a delightful friend to me. I was glad to hear you were engaged to -the dear girl, Allen," she added, and patted his hand.</p> - -<p>"It is strange that your observation and Eva's dream should agree."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me," said Mr. Hill, rising briskly, "they do not agree. I -suggested just now that Strode might be followed by his Cape Town -enemies and arrested for swindling. Eva dreamed that he was dead."</p> - -<p>"Then you don't agree with her dream?" asked Allen, puzzled.</p> - -<p>"Interesting, I admit; but--oh no"--Hill shrugged his -shoulders--"Strode can look after himself. Whosoever is killed, he -will be safe enough. I never knew a man possessed of such infernal -ingenuity. Well, are you satisfied? If not, ask me more, and I'll -explain what I can. Ah, by the way, there's Wasp coming up the -garden." Hill threw open the window and hailed the policeman. "I -asked Wasp to come and see me, Allen, whenever he had an interesting -case to report. I intend to write a volume on the physiology of the -criminal classes. Probably Wasp, wishing to earn an honest penny, has -come to tell me of some paltry crime not worth expending five -shillings on--that's his price. Ah, Wasp, what is it?"</p> - -<p>The policeman, a stout little man, saluted. "Death, sir."</p> - -<p>"How interesting," said Mr. Hill, rubbing his hands; "this is indeed -news worth five shillings. Death?"</p> - -<p>"Murder."</p> - -<p>Allen rose and looked wide-eyed at the policeman. "Mr. Strode?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. Mr. Strode. Murdered--found dead at the Red Deeps."</p> - -<p>"Face downward in the mud?" whispered Allen. "Oh, the dream--the -dream!" and he sank back in his chair quite overwhelmed.</p> - -<p>"You seem to know all about it, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, with sudden -suspicion.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER V</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">A STRANGE LOSS</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Wasp was a bulky little man with a great opinion of his own -importance. In early years he had been in the army, and there, had -imbibed stern ideas of duty. Shortly after joining the police force -he was sent to Wargrove, and, with an underling, looked after the -village and the surrounding district. Married while young, he now -possessed a family of ten, who dwelt with Mrs. Wasp in a -spick-and-span house on the verge of the common. Everything about -Wasp's house was spotless. The little policeman had drilled his -wife so thoroughly, that she performed her duties in quite a -military way, and thought Wasp the greatest of men mentally, -whatever he may have been physically. The ten children were also -drilled to perfection, and life in the small house was conducted on -garrison lines. The family woke early to the sound of the bugle, -and retired to bed when 'Lights out' was sounded. It was quite a -model household, especially as on Sunday, Wasp, a fervid churchman, -walked at the head of his olive-branches with Mrs. Wasp to St. -Peter's church.</p> - -<p>The pay was not very large, but Wasp managed to make money in -many ways. Lately he had been earning stray crowns from Mr. Hill -by detailing any case which he thought likely to interest his -patron. Hitherto these had been concerned with thieving and -drunkenness and poaching--things which Mr. Hill did not care -about. But on this occasion Wasp came to 'The Arabian Nights' -swelling with importance, knowing that he had a most exciting -story to tell. He was therefore not at all pleased when Allen, so -to speak, took the words out of his official mouth. His red face -grew redder than ever, and he drew up his stiff little figure to -its full height, which was not much. "You seem to know all about -it, Mr. Allen," said Wasp tartly.</p> - -<p>"It is certainly strange that Miss Strode should dream as she -did," said Hill, who had turned a trifle pale; "what do you think, -Saccharissa?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill quoted from her husband's favourite poet: "'There are -more things in heaven and earth----'"</p> - -<p>"That's poetry, we want sense," said Hill interrupting testily; -"my music mood has been banished by this news. I now feel that I -am equal to being a Vidocq. Allen, henceforth I am a detective -until the murderer of my friend Strode is in the dock. Where is -the criminal," added Hill, turning to the policeman, "that I may -see him?"</p> - -<p>"No one knows who did it, sir," said Wasp, eyeing Allen suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"What are the circumstances?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Allen, your son here, seems to know all about them," said Wasp -stiffly.</p> - -<p>Allen, who was resting his head on the white cloth of the table, -looked up slowly. His face seemed old and worn, and the dark -circles under his eyes were more marked than ever. "Didn't Miss -Strode tell you her dream, Wasp?" he asked.</p> - -<p>The policeman snorted. "I've got too much to do in connection -with this case to think of them rubbishy things, sir," said he; "Mrs. -Merry did say something, now you mention it. But how's a man woke up -to dooty at one in the morning to listen to dreams."</p> - -<p>"Were you woke at one o'clock, Wasp?" asked Mr. Hill, settling -himself luxuriously; "tell me the details, and then I will go with you -to see Miss Strode and the remains of one, whom I always regarded as -a friend, whatever his shortcomings might have been. Allen, I suppose -you will remain within and nurse your foot."</p> - -<p>"No," said Allen rising painfully. "I must see Eva."</p> - -<p>"Have you hurt your foot, sir?" asked Wasp, who was paying particular -attention to Allen.</p> - -<p>"Yes; I sprained it last night," said Allen shortly.</p> - -<p>"Where, may I ask, sir?"</p> - -<p>"On Chilvers Common."</p> - -<p>"Ho!" Wasp stroked a ferocious moustache he wore for the sake of -impressing evil-doers; "that's near the Red Deeps?"</p> - -<p>"About a mile from the Red Deeps, I believe," said Allen, trying to -ease the pain of his foot by resting it.</p> - -<p>"And what were you doing there, may I ask, sir?" This time it was -not Allen who replied, but his mother. The large, lean woman -suddenly flushed and her stolid face became alive with anger. She -turned on the little man--well named Wasp from his meddlesome -disposition and desire to sting when he could--and seemed like a -tigress protecting her cub. "Why do you ask?" she demanded; "do -you hint that my son has anything to do with this matter?"</p> - -<p>"No, I don't, ma'am," replied Wasp stolidly, "but Mr. Allen -talked of the corp being found face downward in the mud. We did -find it so--leastways them as found the dead, saw it that way. -How did Mr. All----"</p> - -<p>"The dream, my good Wasp," interposed Hill airily. "Miss Strode -dreamed a dream two nights ago, and thought she saw her father -dead in the Red Deeps, face downward. She also heard a laugh--but -that's a detail. My son told us of the dream before you came. It -is strange it should be verified so soon and so truly. I begin to -think that Miss Strode has imagination after all. Without -imagination," added the little man impressively, "no one can -dream. I speak on the authority of Coleridge, a poet," he smiled -pityingly on the three--"of whom you probably know nothing."</p> - -<p>"Poets ain't in the case," said Wasp, "and touching Mr. Allen----"</p> - -<p>The young engineer stood up for himself. "My story is short," he -said, "and you may not believe it, Wasp."</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't I?" demanded the policeman very suspiciously.</p> - -<p>Allen shrugged his shoulders. "You have not imagination enough," -he answered, copying his father; "it seems to me that you believe -I am concerned in this matter."</p> - -<p>"There ain't no need to incriminate yourself, sir."</p> - -<p>"Spare me the warning. I am not going to do so. If you want to -know the truth it is this: Miss Strode dreamed the other night -that her father was lying dead in the Red Deeps. After vainly -endeavouring to laugh her out of the belief that the dream was true, -I went last night to the Red Deeps to convince her that all was well. -I struck across the moor from the high-road, and catching my foot in -some bramble bushes I twisted my ankle. I could not move, and my -ankle grew very painful. For hours I waited, on the chance that some -one might come past, but Chilvers Common being lonely, as you know, I -could not get help. Therefore, shortly before midnight--though I can -hardly tell the exact time, my watch having been stopped when I -fell--I managed to crawl home. I arrived about two o'clock, and my -mother was waiting up for me. She bathed my ankle and I went to bed."</p> - -<p>"It couldn't have been very bad, sir, if you're down now," said Wasp -bluntly, and only half satisfied with Allen's explanation.</p> - -<p>"I forced myself to come down, as my father does not like any one to -be absent from meals," was the reply.</p> - -<p>"Right, Mr. Wasp--right," said Hill briskly, "you need not go on -suspecting my son. He has nothing to do with this matter, the more so -as he is engaged to Miss Strode."</p> - -<p>"And I certainly should end all my chances of marrying Miss Strode by -killing her father," said Allen sharply; "I think you take too much -upon yourself, Wasp."</p> - -<p>The policeman excused himself on the plea of zeal, but saw that he had -gone too far, and offered an apology. "But it was your knowing the -position of the body that made me doubtful," he said.</p> - -<p>"That is the dream," said Mrs. Hill quietly; "but you can now tell us -all that has taken place."</p> - -<p>Hill looked astonished at his wife and a trifle annoyed. She was not -usually given to putting herself forward--as he called it--but waited -to take her tune from him. He would have interposed and asked the -question himself, so as to recover the lead in his own house, but that -Wasp, anxious to atone for his late error, replied at once, and -addressed himself exclusively to Mrs. Hill.</p> - -<p>"Well, ma'am, it's this way," he said, drawing himself up stiffly and -saluting apologetically. "I was wakened about one o'clock by a message -that I was wanted at Misery Castle,--a queer name as you know, -ma'am----"</p> - -<p>"We all know about Mrs. Merry and her eccentricities," said Mrs. -Hill, who, having an eccentric person in the house, was lenient -towards the failings of others; "go on."</p> - -<p>"Well, ma'am, Jackson, who is under me, was at the other end of the -village before midnight, but coming past Misery Castle on his rounds -he saw Mrs. Merry waiting at the gate. She said that Mr. Strode had -been brought home dead by three men--labourers. They, under the -direction of Miss Eva, took the body in and laid it on a bed. Then -Miss Eva sent them away with money. That was just about twelve -o'clock. The men should have come to report to me, or have seen -Jackson, but they went back to their own homes beyond the common, -Westhaven way. I'm going to ask them what they mean by doing that and -not reporting to the police," said Wasp sourly. "Well then, ma'am, -Jackson saw the body and reported to me at one in the morning. I put -on my uniform and went to Misery Castle. I examined the remains and -called up Jackson. We made a report of the condition of the body, -and sent it by messenger to Westhaven. The inspector came this -morning and is now at Misery Castle. Being allowed to go away -for a spell, having been on duty all night over the body, I came -here to tell Mr. Hill, knowing he'd like to hear of the murder."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you came," said Hill, rubbing his hands, "a fine -murder; though," his face fell, "I had rather it had been any -one but my old friend. I suppose you don't know how he came by -his death?"</p> - -<p>"He was shot, sir."</p> - -<p>"Shot?" echoed Allen, looking up, "and by whom?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say, nor can any one, Mr. Allen. From what Mrs. Merry -says, and she asked questions of those who brought the body home, -the corp was found lying face downward in the mud near the Red -Deeps spring. Why he should have gone there--the dead man, I mean, -sir--I can't say. I hear he was coming from London, and no doubt -he'd drive in a fly to Wargrove. But we'll have to make inquiries -at the office of the railway station, and get to facts. Some one -must hang for it."</p> - -<p>"Don't, Wasp; you're making my mother ill," said Allen quickly.</p> - -<p>And indeed Mrs. Hill looked very white. But she rallied herself -and smiled quietly in her old manner. "I knew Mr. Strode," she -said, "and I feel his sad end keenly, especially as he has left a -daughter behind him. Poor Eva," she added, turning to Allen, "she -is now an orphan."</p> - -<p>"All the more reason that I should make her my wife and cherish -her," said Allen quickly. "I'll go to the cottage," he looked at his -father; "may I take the pony chaise?--my foot----"</p> - -<p>"I was thinking of going myself," said Hill hesitating, "but as -you are engaged to the girl, it is right you should go. I'll drive -you." Allen looked dubious. Mr. Hill thought he could drive in the -same way that he fancied he could do all things: but he was not a -good whip, and Allen did not want another accident to happen. -However, he resolved to risk the journey, and, thanking his -father, went out of the room. While the chaise was getting ready, -Allen, looking out of the window, saw his father leave the grounds -in the company of Wasp. Apparently both were going to Misery -Castle. He turned to his mother who was in the room. "What about -my father driving?" he asked. "I see he has left the house."</p> - -<p>"Probably he has forgotten," said Mrs. Hill soothingly; "you know -how forgetful and whimsical he is."</p> - -<p>"Do I not?" said Allen with a sigh, "and don't you?" he added, -smiling at the dark face of his mother. "Well, I can drive -myself. Will you come also, mother, and comfort Eva?"</p> - -<p>"Not just now. I think that is your task. She is fond of me, but -at present you can do her more good. And I think, Allen," said -Mrs. Hill, "that you might bring her back. It is terrible that a -young girl should be left alone in that small cottage with so -dismal a woman as Mrs. Merry. Bring her back."</p> - -<p>"But my father?"</p> - -<p>"I'll make it right with him," said Mrs. Hill determinedly.</p> - -<p>Allen looked at her anxiously. His mother had a firm, -dark face, with quiet eyes steady and unwavering in their -gaze. It had often struck him as wonderful, how so strong a -woman--apparently--should allow his shallow father to rule the -house. On several occasions, as he knew, Mrs. Hill had asserted -herself firmly, and then Hill, after much outward anger, had given -way. There was a mystery about this, and on any other occasion Allen -would have asked his mother why she held so subordinate a position, -when, evidently, she had all the strength of mind to rule the house -and her husband and the whole neighbourhood if necessary. But at -present he was too much taken up with the strange fulfilment of Eva's -dream, and with the thought of her sorrow, to trouble about so petty -a thing. He therefore remained silent and only spoke when the chaise -came to the door in charge of a smart groom.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you everything when I return," he said, and hastily kissing -his mother he moved slowly out of the room. Mrs. Hill stood smiling -and nodding at the window as he drove away, and then returned to her -needlework. She was always at needlework, and usually wrought -incessantly, like a modern Penelope, without displaying any emotion. -But today, as she worked in the solitude of her own room, her tears -fell occasionally. Yet, as she did not like Strode, the tears could -not have been for his untimely death. A strange, firm, self-reliant -woman was Mrs. Hill; and although she took no active part in the -management of the house, the servants secretly looked on her as the -real ruler. Mr. Hill, in spite of his bluster, they regarded as merely -the figurehead.</p> - -<p>On the way to Misery Castle, Allen chatted with Jacobs, a -smart-looking lad, who had been transformed from a yokel into a -groom by Mr. Hill. Jacobs had heard very little of the affair, but -admitted that he knew the crime had been committed. "My brother was -one of them as brought the corp home, sir," he said, nodding.</p> - -<p>"Why did your brother and the others not report to Wasp?"</p> - -<p>Jacobs grinned. "Mr. Wasp have himself to thank for that, sir," said -he, "they were all frightened as he'd say they did it, and don't -intend to come forward unless they have to."</p> - -<p>"All zeal on Mr. Wasp's part, Jacobs," said Allen, smiling faintly, "I -can quite understand the hesitation, however. How did your brother -find the body?"</p> - -<p>"Well, sir," Jacobs scratched his head, "him and Arnold and Wake was -coming across Chilvers Common last night after they'd been to see the -circus at Westhaven, and they got a thirst on them. There being no -beer handy they went to the spring at the Red Deeps to get water. -There they found Mr. Strode's body lying in the mud. His face was down -and his hands were stretched. They first saw the corpse by the white -glove, sir, on the right hand."</p> - -<p>"The wooden hand," said Allen absently.</p> - -<p>"What, sir? Is it a wooden hand?" asked Jacobs eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Didn't you know?--no----" Allen checked himself, "of course you -wouldn't know. You can't remember Mr. Strode when he was here last."</p> - -<p>"It's not that, sir," began Jacobs thoughtfully, "but here we are at -the gate. I'll tell you another time, Mr. Allen."</p> - -<p>"Tell me what?" asked Allen, as he alighted painfully.</p> - -<p>"No matter, sir. It ain't much," replied the lad, and gathering up the -reins he jumped into the trap. "When will I come back?"</p> - -<p>"In an hour, and then you can tell me whatever it is."</p> - -<p>"Nothing--nothing," said the groom, and drove off, looking thoughtful.</p> - -<p>It seemed to Allen that the lad had something to say to him relating -to the wooden hand, but, thinking he would learn about the matter -during the homeward drive, he dismissed the affair from his mind and -walked up the path.</p> - -<p>He found the front door closed, and knocked in vain. Finding that no -one came, he strolled round to the back, and discovered Mrs. Merry -talking to a ragged, shock-headed, one-eyed boy of about thirteen. -"Just you say that again," Mrs. Merry was remarking to this urchin.</p> - -<p>The boy spoke in a shrill voice and with a cockney accent. "Cain sez -to me, as he'll come over and see you to-morrer!"</p> - -<p>"And who are you to come like this?" asked Mrs. Merry.</p> - -<p>"I'm Butsey, and now you've as you've heard twice what Cain hes -t'saiy, you can swear, without me waiting," and after this insult the -urchin bolted without waiting for the box on the ear, with which Mrs. -Merry was prepared to favour him. Allen, quick in his judgments, saw -that this was a true specimen of a London gamin, and wondered how -such a brat had drifted to Wargrove. As a rule the London guttersnipe -sticks to town as religiously as does the London sparrow.</p> - -<p>"If I had a child like that," gasped Mrs. Merry as the boy darted -round the corner of the cottage, "I'd put him in a corner and keep -him on bread and water till the sin was drove out of him. Ah, Mr. -Allen, that's you. I'm glad you've come to the house of mourning, -and well may I call this place Misery Castle, containing a corp as -it do. But I said the dream would come true, and true it came. Five -knocks at the door, and the corp with three men bearing it. Your -pa's inside, looking at the body, and Miss Eva weeping in the -doring-room."</p> - -<p>Allen brushed past the garrulous woman, but halted on the doorstep, -to ask why she had not come to the front door. Mrs. Merry was ready -at once with her explanation. "That door don't open till the corp go -out," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh, I know as you may -call it superstition whatever you may say, Mr. Allen, but when a corp -enter at one door nothing should come between its entering and its -going out. If anything do, that thing goes with the corp to the -grave," said Mrs. Merry impressively; "police and doctor and your pa -and all, I haven't let in by the front, lest any one of them should -die. Not as I'd mind that Wasp man going to his long home, drat him -with his nasty ways, frightening Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>Waiting to hear no more, Hill went through the kitchen and entered -the tiny drawing-room. The blinds were down and on the sofa he saw -Eva seated, dressed in black. She sprang to her feet when she saw -him. "Oh, Allen, I am so glad you have come. Your father said you -could not, because of your foot."</p> - -<p>"I sprained it, Eva, last night when----"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Your father told me all. I wondered why you did not come back, -Allen, to relieve my anxiety. Of course you did not go to the Red -Deeps?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Allen sitting down, her hand within his own, "I never got -so far, dearest. So your dream came true?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Truer than you think--truer than you can imagine," said Eva in -a tone of awe. "Oh, Allen, I never believed in such things; but that -such a strange experience should come to me,"--she covered her face -and wept, shaken to the core of her soul; Allen soothed her gently, -and she laid her head on his breast, glad to have such kind arms -around her. "Yes, my father is dead," she went on, "and do you know, -Allen, wicked girl that I am, I do not feel so filled with sorrow as -I ought to be? In fact"--she hesitated, then burst out, "Allen, I <i>am</i> -wicked, but I feel relieved----"</p> - -<p>"Relieved, Eva?"</p> - -<p>"Yes! had my father come home alive everything would have gone wrong. -You and I would have been parted, and--and--oh, I can't say what -would have happened. Yet he is my father after all, though he treated -my mother so badly, and I knew so little about him. I wish--oh, I -wish that I could feel sorry, but I don't--I don't."</p> - -<p>"Hush, hush! dearest," said Allen softly, "you knew little of your -father, and it's natural under the circumstances you should not -feel the loss very keenly. He was almost a stranger to you, -and----"</p> - -<p>While Allen was thus consoling her, the door opened abruptly and -Hill entered rather excited. "Eva," he said quickly, "you never told -me that your father's wooden hand had been removed."</p> - -<p>"It has not been," said Eva; "it was on when we laid out his body."</p> - -<p>"It's gone now, then," said Hill quietly, and looking very pale; -"gone."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VI</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">THE WARNING</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>On hearing this announcement of the loss, Eva rose and went to the -chamber of death. There, under a sheet, lay the body of her father -looking far more calm in death, than he had ever looked in life. But -the sheet was disarranged on the right side, and lifting this -slightly, she saw that what Mr. Hill said was true. The wooden hand -had been removed, and now there remained but the stump of the arm. A -glance round the room showed her that the window was open, but she -remembered opening it herself. The blind was down, but some one -might have entered and thieved from the dead. It was an odd loss, -and Eva could not think why it should have taken place.</p> - -<p>When she returned to the tiny drawing-room, Allen and his father were -in deep conversation. They looked up when the girl entered.</p> - -<p>"It is quite true," said Eva, sitting down; "the hand is gone."</p> - -<p>"Who can have stolen it?" demanded Allen, wrinkling his brow.</p> - -<p>"And why should it be stolen?" asked Hill pointedly.</p> - -<p>Eva pressed her hands to her aching head. "I don't know," she -said wearily. "When Mrs. Merry and I laid out the body at dawn -this morning the hand was certainly there, for I noted the white -glove all discoloured with the mud of the Red Deeps. We pulled down -the blind and opened the window. Some one may have entered."</p> - -<p>"But why should some one steal?" said Hill uneasily; "you say the hand -was there at dawn?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Eva rose and rang the bell. "We can ask Mrs. Merry."</p> - -<p>The old woman speedily entered, and expressed astonishment at the -queer loss. "The hand was there at nine," she said positively. "I -went to see if everything was well, and lifted the sheet. Ah, dear -me, Mr. Strode, as was, put a new white glove on that wooden hand -every morning, so that it might look nice and clean. Whatever would -he have said, to see the glove all red with clay? I intended," added -Mrs. Merry, "to have put on a new glove, and I sent Cain to buy it."</p> - -<p>"What?" asked Eva, looking up, "is Cain back?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, deary. He came early, as the circus is passing through this -place on to the next town, Shanton. Cain thought he'd pick up the -caravans on the road, so came to say good-bye."</p> - -<p>Eva remembered Cain's odd behaviour, and wondered if he had anything -to do with the theft. But the idea was ridiculous. The lad was bad -enough, but he certainly would not rob the dead. Moreover--on the face -of it--there was no reason he should steal so useless an object as a -wooden hand. What with the excitement of the death, and the -fulfilment of the dream, not to mention that she felt a natural grief -for the death of her father, the poor girl was quite worn out. -Mr. Hill saw this, and after questioning Mrs. Merry as to the theft -of the glove, he went away.</p> - -<p>"I shall see Wasp about this," he said, pausing at the door, "there -must be some meaning in the theft. Meanwhile I'll examine the -flower-bed outside the window."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry went with him, but neither could see any sign of foot-marks -on the soft mould. The thief--if indeed a thief had entered the house, -had jumped the flower-bed, and no marks were discoverable on the hard -gravel of the path. "There's that boy," said Mrs. Merry.</p> - -<p>"What boy?" asked Hill, starting.</p> - -<p>"A little rascal, as calls himself Butsey," said the old woman, -folding her hands as usual under her apron. "London street brat I take -him to be. He came to say Cain would be here to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"But Cain is here to-day," said Mr. Hill perplexed.</p> - -<p>"That's what makes me think Butsey might have stolen the wooden hand," -argued Mrs. Merry. "Why should he come here else? I didn't tell him, -as Cain had already arrived, me being one as knows how to hold my -tongue whatever you may say, Mr. Hills"--so Mrs. Merry named her -companion. "I would have asked questions, but the boy skipped. I -wonder why he stole it?"</p> - -<p>"You have no proof that he stole it at all," said Hill smartly; "but -I'll tell Wasp what you say. When does the inquest take place?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow, as you might say," snapped Mrs. Merry crossly; "and -don't bring that worriting Wasp round here, Mr. Hills. Wasp he is -by name and Wasp by nature with his questions. If ever you----"</p> - -<p>But Mr. Hill was beyond hearing by this time. He always avoided a -chat with Mrs. Merry, as the shrillness of her voice--so -he explained--annoyed him. The old woman stared after his -retreating figure and she shook her head. "You're a bad one," -she soliloquised; "him as is dead was bad too. A pair of -ye--ah--but if there's trouble coming, as trouble will come, do -what you may--Miss Eva shan't suffer while I can stop any worriting."</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Eva and Allen were talking seriously. "My dream was -fulfilled in the strangest way, Allen," the girl said. "I dreamed, -as I told you, the night before last at nine o'clock----"</p> - -<p>"Well?" questioned the young man seeing she hesitated.</p> - -<p>Eva looked round fearfully. "The doctor says, that, judging by -the condition of the body, my father must have been shot at that -hour."</p> - -<p>"Last night you mean," said Allen hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>"No. This is Friday. He was shot on Wednesday at nine, and the -body must have lain all those long hours at the Red Deeps. Of -course," added Eva quickly, "no one goes to the Red Deeps. It was -the merest chance that those labourers went last night and found -the body. So you see, Allen, my father must have been killed at -the very time I dreamed of his death."</p> - -<p>"It is strange," said young Hill, much perturbed. "I wonder who -can have killed him?"</p> - -<p>Eva shook her head. "I cannot say, nor can any one. The inspector -from Westhaven has been here this morning making inquiries, but, -of course, I can tell him nothing--except about the telegram."</p> - -<p>"What telegram?"</p> - -<p>"Didn't I mention it to you?" said the girl, raising her eyes -which were fixed on the ground disconsolately; "no--of course I -didn't. It came after you left me--at nine o'clock--no it was at -half-past nine. The wire was from my father, saying he would be -down the next day. It had arrived at Westhaven at four, and should -have been delivered earlier but for the forgetfulness of the -messenger."</p> - -<p>"But, Eva, if the wire came from your father yesterday, he could not -have been shot on Wednesday night."</p> - -<p>"No, I can't understand it. I told Inspector Garrit about the wire, -and he took it away with him. He will say all that he learns about the -matter at the inquest to-morrow. And now my father's wooden hand has -been stolen--it is strange."</p> - -<p>"Very strange," assented Allen musingly. He was thinking of what -his father had said about Mr. Strode's probable enemies. "Eva, do -you know if your father brought any jewels from Africa--diamonds, I -mean?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say. No diamonds were found on his body. In fact his purse -was filled with money and his jewellery had not been taken."</p> - -<p>"Then robbery could not have been the motive for the crime."</p> - -<p>"No, Allen, the body was not robbed." She rose and paced the room. "I -can't understand my dream. I wonder if, when I slept, my soul went to -the Red Deeps and saw the crime committed."</p> - -<p>"You did not see the crime committed?"</p> - -<p>"No; I saw the body, however, lying in the position in which it was -afterwards found by Jacobs and the others. And then the laugh--that -cruel laugh as though the assassin was gloating over his cruel -work--the man who murdered my father was laughing in my dream."</p> - -<p>"How can you tell it was a man?"</p> - -<p>"The laugh sounded like that of a man."</p> - -<p>"In your dream? I don't think a jury will take that evidence."</p> - -<p>Eva stopped before the young man and looked at him determinedly. -"I don't see why that part of my dream should not come true, if -the other has already been proved true. It's all of a piece."</p> - -<p>To this remark young Hill had no answer ready. Certainly the dream had -come true in one part, so why not in another? But he was too anxious -about Eva's future to continue the discussion. "What about you, -darling?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," she replied, and sat down beside him again. "I can -think of nothing until the inquest has taken place. When I learn -who has killed my father, I shall be more at ease."</p> - -<p>"That is only right and natural; but----"</p> - -<p>"Don't mistake me, Allen," she interrupted vehemently. "I saw so -little of my father, and, through my mother, knew so much bad about -him, that I don't mourn his death as a daughter ought to. But I feel -that I have a duty to perform. I must learn who killed him, and have -that person sent to the scaffold."</p> - -<p>Allen coloured and looked down. "We can talk about that when we have -further facts before us. Inspector Garrit, you say, is making -inquiries?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have given him the telegram, and also the address of my -father's lawyer, which I found in a letter in his pocket."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Mask?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; Sebastian Mask--do you know him?"</p> - -<p>"I know of him. He is my father's lawyer also, and so became Mr. -Strode's man of business. Yes, it is just as well Garrit should see -him. When your father arrived in London he probably went to see Mask, -to talk over business. We might learn something in that quarter."</p> - -<p>"Learn what?" asked Eva bluntly.</p> - -<p>Allen did not answer at once. "Eva," he said after a pause, "do you -remember I told you that my father said Mr. Strode might not arrive. -Well, I asked him why he said so, and he declared that from what he -knew of your father, Mr. Strode was a man likely to have many enemies. -It struck me that this crime may be the work of one of these enemies. -Now Mask, knowing all your father's business, may also know about -those who wished him ill."</p> - -<p>"It may be so," said Eva reflectively; "my father," from what Mrs. -Merry says, "was a most quarrelsome man, and would stop at nothing to -make money. He doubtless made enemies in Africa as your -father suggests, but why should an enemy follow him to England to -kill him? It would have been easier to shoot him in Africa."</p> - -<p>Allen shrugged his shoulders. "It's all theory on our parts," he said. -"We don't know yet if Mr. Strode had any virulent enemies, so we -cannot say if he was shot out of malice."</p> - -<p>"As the contents of his pockets were not touched, Allen, it looks as -though malice might have led to the crime."</p> - -<p>"True enough." Allen rose wearily to go, and Eva saw that he -limped. "Oh," she cried with true womanly feeling, springing -forward to help him, "I forgot about your sprain; is it very -painful?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no, not at all," said Allen, wincing; "help me to the door, -Eva, and I'll get into the chaise. It must be here by this time. -We must go round by the back."</p> - -<p>In spite of her sorrow, Eva smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Merry won't allow the -front door to be opened until my father's corpse passes through. I -never thought she was so superstitious."</p> - -<p>"The realisation of your dream is enough to make us all -superstitious," said Allen as they passed through the kitchen. "Oh, -by the way, Eva, my mother wants to know if you will stop with her -till the funeral is over?"</p> - -<p>"No, Allen, thanking your mother all the same. My place is here. Mrs. -Palmer asked me also."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Palmer was a gay, bright young widow who lived at the other -end of the village, and whom Mrs. Merry detested, for some unknown -reason. The sound of the name brought her into the conversation, as -she was just outside, when the couple arrived at the kitchen door.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Palmer indeed," cried Mrs. Merry, wiping her red eyes; "the -idea of her asking Miss Eva to stop with her. Why, her father was -a chemist, and her late husband made his money out of milk and -eggs!"</p> - -<p>"She is very kind to ask me, Nanny, all the same."</p> - -<p>"She's no lady," said Mrs. Merry, pursing up her lips, "and ain't -the kind for you to mix with, Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>"My mother wishes Miss Strode to come to us," said Allen.</p> - -<p>"Well, sir," said the old nurse, "I don't say as what it wouldn't be -good for my dear young lady: that is," added Mrs. Merry with -emphasis, "if she keeps with your ma."</p> - -<p>"My father won't trouble her if that's what you mean," said the young -man drily, for Mrs. Merry made no secret of her dislike for Mr. Hill.</p> - -<p>"People have their likings and no likings," said the old dame, "but if -your ma will take Miss Eva till we bury him," she jerked her head in -the direction of the death chamber, "it would be happier for her than -sticking in the house along with her pa and me. If Cain was stopping -I'd say different, but he's going after his circus, and two women and -a corpse as ain't lived well, isn't lively, whatever you may say, Mr. -Allen."</p> - -<p>"I intend to stop here," said Eva sharply, "so there's no need for -you to say anything more, Nanny. Ah, here's Cain. Help Mr. Hill, -Cain."</p> - -<p>The dark-eyed youth doffed his cap and came forward with alacrity to -aid Allen. "Jacobs is at the gate with the pony, miss," he said, "but -I hope our horses won't run over him."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked Allen, limping round the corner.</p> - -<p>"The circus is coming, on its way to Shanton. I told Mr. Stag--he -owns it, Miss Eva--that murder had been committed, so the circus band -won't play when the horses pass."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Eva stopping short, for already she saw a crowd of people -on the road. "I'd better remain within."</p> - -<p>"Yes, do, Eva," said Allen. "Cain will help me to the chaise. I'll -come and see you again; and Eva," he detained her, "ask Inspector -Garrit to see me. I want to know what can be done towards discovering -the truth."</p> - -<p>While Allen whispered thus, a procession of golden cars and -cream-coloured horses was passing down the road amongst a sparse -gathering of village folk. These had come to look at the house in -which the body of the murdered man lay, although they knew Misery -Castle as well as they knew their own noses. But the cottage had -acquired a new and terrible significance in their eyes. Now another -sensation was provided in the passing of Stag's Circus on its way to -Shanton fifteen miles further on. What between the tragedy and the -circus the villagers quite lost their heads. At present, however, -they looked at the cages of animals, at the band in a high red -chariot, and at many performers prancing on trained steeds. With the -music of the band it would have been even more exciting, but Stag, -with extraordinary good taste, forbore to play martial melodies while -passing through the village. Cain had not told him about the cottage, -so the equestrians were unaware that Misery Castle contained the -remains of the man whose death had caused such excitement in -Westhaven.</p> - -<p>Just as Eva turned to go in, and thus avoid the gaze of the curious, -she heard a deep voice--a contralto voice--calling for Cain. On -turning her head, she saw a handsome dark woman mounted on a fine -white horse. "It's Miss Lorry," said Cain, leaving Allen's arm and -running to the gate, with his face shining.</p> - -<p>The young man, still weak in his ankle, lurched, so sudden had been -Cain's departure, and Eva, with a cry of anger, ran forward to stop -him from falling. "Cain, how could you!" cried Eva; "hold up, -Allen."</p> - -<p>"Go back and help the gentleman," said the dark woman, fixing her -bold eyes on the girl's white face with a look of pity. "Miss -Strode!"</p> - -<p>Eva turned indignantly--for Cain by this time was helping Allen, and -she was returning to the house--to see why the woman dare address -her. Miss Lorry was reining in her rearing, prancing horse, and -showing off her fine figure and splendid equestrian management. She -was dressed plainly in a dark blue riding-habit, and wore a tall silk -hat. With these, and white collar and cuffs and neat gloves, she -looked very well turned out. By this time the procession had passed -on towards the village, and the people, drawn by the superior -attraction of the circus, streamed after it. Only a few hung about, -and directed curious eyes towards the cottage and towards Eva, who -paused near the fence in response to Miss Lorry's cry. Allen, who was -now in the chaise, and had gathered up the reins, also waited to hear -what this audacious woman had to say to Eva.</p> - -<p>"Come here, please," said Miss Lorry, with a fine high colour in her -cheeks. "I'm not going to bite you. You are Miss Strode, aren't -you?--else that lad," she pointed to Cain, "must have lied. He said -you lived in his mother's cottage and----"</p> - -<p>"I am Miss Strode," said Eva sharply. "What is it? I don't know you."</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry laughed in an artificial manner. "Few people can say that," -she said; "Bell Lorry is known everywhere as the Queen of the Arena. -No, Miss Strode, you don't know me; but I know you and of you. Your -cousin Lord Saltars----"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Eva, turning red, and walked up towards the house.</p> - -<p>"Come back," cried Miss Lorry, "I want to whisper--it's about the -death," she added in a lower tone. But Eva was out of hearing, and -round the corner walking very fast, with her haughty head in the air.</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry, who had not a good temper, ground her fine white teeth. -"I've a good mind to hold my tongue," she said.</p> - -<p>"What is it about the murder?" asked Allen quickly; "I am engaged to -marry Miss Strode."</p> - -<p>"Oh, are you? Then tell her to be careful of the wooden hand!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">THE INQUEST</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>There was great excitement when the inquest was held on the remains -of Mr. Strode. Although he belonged to the old family of the -neighbourhood, and should have lived in the manor as the lord of the -village, he had been absent from Wargrove for so long, that few -people were well acquainted with him. Some ancient villagers -remembered him as a gay, sky-larking young man, when with Mr. Hill -the two had played pranks during vacation. Then came the death of the -old squire and the sale of the manor by his son. At times Strode had -come to Wargrove with his wife, and at Misery Castle Eva had been -born. But he usually stopped only a short time, as the slow life of -the country wearied his restless spirit. But always, when he came to -his old haunts, he went to look at the home of his race. Every one -knew that it was his desire to be Strode of Wargrove again, in fact -as well as in name.</p> - -<p>Many people remembered him when he came to Wargrove for the last time, -to place his wife and daughter under the roof of Mrs. Merry. Strode -had always been stiff and cold in manner, but, being of the old stock, -this behaviour was esteemed right, as no lord of the soil should be -too familiar, the wiseacres thought. "A proud, haughty gentleman," -said some, "but then he's a right to be proud. Ain't the Strodes been -here since the Conquest? 'Tis a wonder he took up with that Mr. Hill, -whose father was but a stockbroker."</p> - -<p>So it will be guessed that Strode's return to his native place to meet -with a violent death at unknown hands, created much excitement. The -jury surveyed the body in Misery Castle, and then went to the one inn -of the village to hear the evidence. A few people were in the -coffee-room where the proceedings took place, but Inspector Garrit -gave orders that the crowd should be kept out. The street therefore -was filled with people talking of Strode and of his terrible end. One -old man, who had seen eighty summers, gave it as his opinion, that it -was no wonder Mr. Strode had died so.</p> - -<p>"And what do you mean by that?" asked Wasp, who, full of importance, -was making things unpleasant with over-zeal.</p> - -<p>The ancient pulled his cap to the majesty of the law. "Whoy," said -he, chewing a straw, "Muster Robert--by which I means Muster -Strode--was a powerful angery gent surely. He gied I a clip on th' -'ead when I was old enough to be his father, though to be sure -'twas in his colleging days. Ah, I mind them two well!"</p> - -<p>"What two?" asked Wasp, on the alert to pick up evidence.</p> - -<p>"Muster Strode as was, an' Muster Hill as is. They be very -hoity-toity in them days, not as 'twasn't right fur Muster Robert, he -being lard an' master of the village. But Muster Hill"--the ancient -spat out the straw to show his contempt--"Lard, he be nothin'!"</p> - -<p>"He's very rich, Granfer."</p> - -<p>"What's money to blood? Muster Strode shouldn't ha' taken him up, and -given he upsettin' notions. He an' Giles Merry, as run away from his -wife, and Muster Strode, ah--them did make things lively-like."</p> - -<p>"I don't see what this has to do with the death," said Wasp -snappishly.</p> - -<p>"Never you mind," said Granfer, valiant through over-much beer. "I -knows what I knows. Muster Robert--'twas a word an' a blow with him, -and when he clips me on the 'ead, I ses, 'Sir, 'tis a red end as -you'll come to,' and my words have come true. He've bin shot."</p> - -<p>"And who shot him?" asked the blacksmith.</p> - -<p>"One of 'em as he clipped on the 'ead same as he did me," said -Granfer.</p> - -<p>Wasp dismissed this piece of gossip with contempt, and entered the -coffee-room to watch proceedings. The little policeman was very -anxious to bring the murderer to justice, in the hopes that he would -be rewarded for his zeal by a post at Westhaven. Hitherto he had -found nothing likely to lead to any discovery, and Inspector Garrit -had not been communicative. So, standing stiffly at the lower end of -the room, Wasp listened with all his red ears to the evidence, to see -what he could gain therefrom likely to set him on the track. A chance -like this was not to be wasted, and Wasp's family was very large, -with individual appetites to correspond.</p> - -<p>Eva was present, with Allen on one side of her, and Mrs. Palmer on -the other. Behind sat Mrs. Merry, sniffing because Mrs. Palmer was -offering Eva her smelling-bottle. The widow was blonde and lively, -well dressed, and of a most cheerful disposition. Her father -certainly had been a chemist, but he had left her money. Her husband -undoubtedly had been an egg and butter merchant, but he also had left -her well off. Mrs. Palmer had been born and brought up in Shanton, -and her late husband's shop had been in Westhaven. Therefore she -lived at neither place now that she was free and rich, but fixed her -abode at Wargrove, midway between the two towns. She went out a good -deal, and spent her money freely. But she never could get amongst the -county families as was her ambition. Perhaps her liking for Eva -Strode was connected with the fact that the girl was of aristocratic -birth. With the Lord of the Manor--as he should have been--for a -father, and an Earl's daughter for a mother, Eva was as well-born as -any one in the county. But apart from her birth, Mrs. Palmer kindly -and genial, really liked the girl for her own sake. And Eva also was -fond of the merry, pretty widow, although Mrs. Merry quite -disapproved of the friendship.</p> - -<p>Inspector Garrit was present, and beside him sat a lean, yellow-faced -man, who looked like a lawyer and was one. He had presented himself at -the cottage that very morning as Mr. Mask, the solicitor of the -deceased, and had been brought down by Garrit to give evidence as to -the movements of Mr. Strode in town, since his arrival from Africa. -Eva had asked him about her future, but he declined to say anything -until the verdict of the jury was given. When this matter was settled, -and when Strode was laid in the family vault beside his neglected -wife, Mask said that he would call at Misery Castle and explain.</p> - -<p>The case was opened by Garrit, who detailed the facts and what -evidence he had gathered to support them. "The deceased gentleman," -said Garrit, who was stout and short of breath, "came to Southampton -from South Africa at the beginning of August, a little over a week -ago. He had been in South Africa for five years. After stopping two -days at Southampton at the Ship Inn, the deceased had come to London -and had taken up his quarters in the Guelph Hotel, Jermyn Street. He -went to the theatres, paid visits to his tailors for a new outfit, and -called also on his lawyer, Mr. Mask, who would give evidence. On -Wednesday last, the deceased wired from London that he would be down -at eight o'clock on Thursday evening. The wire was sent to Miss -Strode, and was taken from the hotel by the porter who sent it, from -the St. James's telegraph office."</p> - -<p>"Why are you so precise about this telegram?" asked the coroner.</p> - -<p>"I shall explain later, sir," panted Garrit, wiping his face, for it -was hot in the coffee room. "Well then, gentlemen of the jury, the -deceased changed his mind, as I learned from inquiries at the hotel. -He came down on Wednesday evening instead of Thursday, and arrived at -the Westhaven station at six-thirty."</p> - -<p>"That was the train he intended to come by on Thursday?" asked a -juryman.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. He changed the day but not the train."</p> - -<p>"Didn't he send another wire to Miss Strode notifying his change of -plan?"</p> - -<p>"No. He sent no wire saying he would be down on Wednesday. Perhaps -he desired to give Miss Strode a pleasant surprise. At all -events, Miss Strode did not expect him till Thursday night at -eight. She will give evidence to that effect. Well, gentlemen of -the jury, the deceased arrived at Westhaven by the six-thirty -train on Wednesday, consequent on his change of plan. He left the -greater part of his luggage at the Guelph Hotel, and came only -with a small bag, from which it would seem that he intended to -stop only for the night. As the bag was easily carried, Mr. -Strode decided to walk over----"</p> - -<p>"But if he arrived by the six-thirty he would not get to the -cottage at eight," said a juryman.</p> - -<p>"No. I can't say why he walked--it's ten miles. A quick walker -could do the distance in two hours, but Mr. Strode not being so -young as he was, was not a quick walker. At all events, he -walked. A porter who offered to take his bag, and was snubbed, -was the last person who saw him."</p> - -<p>"Didn't any one see him on the road to Wargrove?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say. As yet I have found no one who saw him. Besides, -Mr. Strode did not keep to the road all the time. He walked -along it for some distance and then struck across Chilvers -Common, to go to the Red Deeps. Whether he intended to go -there," added the Inspector, wiping his face again, "I can't -say. But he was found there dead on Thursday night by three men, -Arnold, Jacobs, and Wake. These found a card in the pocket -giving the name of the deceased, and one of them, Jacobs, then -recognised the body as that of Mr. Strode whom he had seen five -years previous. The men took the body to the cottage and then -went home."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't they inform the police?" asked the coroner.</p> - -<p>Garrit stole a glance at Wasp and suppressed a smile. "They will -tell you that themselves, sir," he said; "however, Mrs. Merry found -the policeman Jackson on his rounds, late at night, and he went to -tell Mr. Wasp, a most zealous officer. I came over next morning. The -doctor had examined the body, and will now give his evidence."</p> - -<p>After this witness retired, Dr. Grace appeared, and deposed that he -had been called in to examine the body of the deceased. The -unfortunate gentleman had been shot through the heart, and must have -been killed instantaneously. There was also a flesh wound on the upper -part of the right arm; here the doctor produced a bullet: "This I -extracted from the body, gentlemen, but the other bullet cannot be -found. It must have merely ripped the flesh of the arm, and then have -buried itself in the trees."</p> - -<p>"This bullet caused the death?" asked the coroner.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. It passed through the heart. I expect the assassin fired -twice, and missing his victim at the first shot fired again with a -surer aim. From the nature of the wound in the arm, gentlemen," added -Grace, "I am inclined to think that the deceased had his back to the -assassin. The first bullet--the lost one, mind--skimmed along the -flesh of the arm. The pain would make the deceased turn sharply to -face the assassin, whereupon the second shot was fired and passed -through the heart. I think, from the condition of the body, that the -murder was committed at nine o'clock on Wednesday night. Mr. Strode -may have gone to the Red Deeps to meet the assassin and thus -have----"</p> - -<p>"This isn't evidence," interrupted the coroner abruptly; "you can sit -down, Dr. Grace."</p> - -<p>This the doctor did, rather annoyed, for he was fond of hearing -himself chatter. The three labourers, Arnold, Wake, and Jacobs, -followed, and stated that they went to the Red Deeps to get a drink -from the spring. It was about half-past ten when they found the body. -It was lying near the spring, face downwards. They took it up and -from a card learned it was that of Mr. Strode. Then they took it to -the cottage and went home.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you inform the police?" a juryman asked Jacobs.</p> - -<p>The big man scratched his head and looked sheepish. "Well, you see, -sir, policeman Wasp's a sharp one, he is, and like as not he'd have -thought we'd killed the gent. We all three thought as we'd wait till -we could see some other gentleman like yourself."</p> - -<p>There was a smile at this, and Wasp grew redder than he was. "A trifle -too much zeal on the part of policeman Wasp," said the coroner drily, -"but you should have given notice. You carried the body home between -you, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. There was Arnold, myself, and Wake--then there was the boy," -added the witness with hesitation.</p> - -<p>"Boy?" questioned the coroner sharply, "what boy?"</p> - -<p>Jacobs scratched his head again. "I dunno, sir. A boy joined us on the -edge of the common near Wargrove, and, boy-like, when he saw we'd a -corpse he follered. When we dropped the body at the door of Misery -Castle"--the name of Mrs. Merry's abode provoked a smile--"the boy -said as he'd knock. He knocked five times."</p> - -<p>"Why five times?" questioned a juryman, while Eva started.</p> - -<p>"I can't say, sir. But knock five times he did, and then ran away."</p> - -<p>"What kind of a boy was he?"</p> - -<p>"Just an ordinary boy, sir," grunted the witness, save that he seemed -sharp. "He'd a white face and a lot of red hair----"</p> - -<p>"Lor!" cried Mrs. Merry, interrupting the proceedings, "it's Butsey."</p> - -<p>"Do you know the boy?" asked the coroner. "Come and give your -evidence, Mrs. Merry."</p> - -<p>The old woman, much excited, kissed the book. "Know the boy?" she -said in her doleful voice. "Lord bless you, Mr. Shakerley, that being -your name, sir, I don't know the boy from a partridge. But on Friday -morning he came to me, and told me as Cain--my boy, gentlemen, and a -wicked boy at that--would come and see me Saturday. As Cain was in -the house, gentlemen, leastways as I'd sent him for a glove for the -wooden hand of the corp, the boy--Butsey, he said his name was--told -a lie, which don't astonish me, seeing what boys are. I think he was -a London boy, being sharp and ragged. But he just told the lie, and -before I could clout his head for falsehoods, he skipped away."</p> - -<p>"Have you seen him since?"</p> - -<p>"No, I ain't," said Mrs. Merry, "and when I do I'll clout him, I will."</p> - -<p>"Does your son know him?"</p> - -<p>"That he don't. For I asked Cain why he told the boy to speak such a -falsehood seeing there was no need. But Cain said he'd told no one to -say as he was coming, and that he intended to see me Friday and not -Saturday, as that lying boy spoke."</p> - -<p>Here Inspector Garrit rose, and begged that Miss Strode might be -called, as she could tell something, bearing on the boy. Eva looked -somewhat astonished, as she had not seen Butsey. However, she was -sworn and duly gave her evidence.</p> - -<p>"My father came home from South Africa over a week ago in the <i>Dunoon -Castle</i>.. He wrote to me from Southampton saying he would be down. He -then went to London and stopped there a week. He did not write from -London, but sent two telegrams."</p> - -<p>"Two telegrams," said the coroner. "One on Wednesday----"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the witness, "and one on Thursday night."</p> - -<p>"But that's impossible. He was dead then, according to the medical -evidence."</p> - -<p>"That's what I cannot understand," said Eva, glancing at the -Inspector. "I expected him on Thursday night at eight and had dinner -ready for him. After waiting till after nine I was about to go to bed -when a telegraph messenger arrived. He gave me the wire and said it -arrived at four, and should have been sent then. It was from my -father, saying he had postponed his departure till the next day, -Friday. I thought it was all right and went to bed. About twelve I -was awakened by the five knocks of my dream----"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by your dream, Miss Strode?"</p> - -<p>Eva related her dream, which caused much excitement. "And the five -knocks came. Four soft and one hard," she went on. "I sprang out -of bed, and ran into the passage. Mrs. Merry met me with the news that -my father had been brought home dead. Then I attended to the body, -while Mrs. Merry told Jackson, who went to see Mr. Wasp."</p> - -<p>"What did you do with the wire?" asked the coroner, looking perplexed -at this strange contradictory evidence, as he well might.</p> - -<p>"I gave it to Inspector Garrit."</p> - -<p>"Here it is," said the inspector producing it; "when I was in town, I -went to the office whence this had been sent. It was the St. James's -Street office where the other wire had been sent from. I learnt from -a smart operator that the telegram had been brought in by a ragged, -red-haired boy----"</p> - -<p>"Butsey," cried Mrs. Merry, folding her shawl tightly round her lean -form.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Garrit, nodding, "apparently it is the same boy who joined -the three men when they carried the body home, and knocked five -times."</p> - -<p>"And the same boy as told me a lie about Cain," cried Mrs. Merry; -"what do you make of it all, gentlemen?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry was rebuked, but the jury and coroner looked puzzled. They -could make nothing of it. Inquiry showed that Butsey had vanished -from the neighbourhood. Wasp deposed to having seen the lad. "Ragged -and white-faced and red-haired he was," said Wasp, "with a wicked -eye----"</p> - -<p>"Wicked eyes," corrected the coroner.</p> - -<p>"Eye," snapped Wasp respectfully, "he'd only one eye, but 'twas bright -and wicked enough to be two. I asked him--on the Westhaven road--what -he was doing there, as we didn't like vagrants. He said he'd come from -London to Westhaven with a Sunday school treat. I gave him a talking -to, and he ran away in the direction of Westhaven. Oh, sir," added -Wasp, obviously annoyed, "if I'd only known about the knocking, and -the lying to Mrs. Merry, and the telegram, I'd have taken him in -charge."</p> - -<p>"Well, you couldn't help it, knowing no reason why the lad should be -detained," said the coroner; "but search for him, Wasp."</p> - -<p>"At Westhaven? I will, sir. And I'll see about the Sunday school too. -He'd be known to the teachers."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry snorted. "That's another lie. I don't believe the brat has -anything to do with Sunday schools, begging your pardon, Mr. -Shakerley. He's a liar, and I don't believe his name's Butsey at -all."</p> - -<p>"Well, well," said the coroner impatiently, "let us get on with the -inquest. What further evidence have you, inspector?"</p> - -<p>"I have to speak," said Mr. Mask rising and looking more yellow and -prim than ever as he took the oath. "I am Mr. Strode's legal adviser. -He came to see me two or three times while he was in town. He stated -that he was going down to Wargrove."</p> - -<p>"On what day did he say?"</p> - -<p>"On no particular day. He said he would be going down some time, but -he was in no hurry."</p> - -<p>"Didn't he tell you he was going down on Thursday?"</p> - -<p>"No. He never named the day."</p> - -<p>"Had he any idea of meeting with a violent death?"</p> - -<p>"If he had, he certainly would not have come," said Mask grimly; "my -late client had a very good idea of looking after his own skin. But he -certainly hinted that he was in danger."</p> - -<p>"Explain yourself."</p> - -<p>"He said that if he couldn't come himself to see me again he would -send his wooden hand."</p> - -<p>The coroner looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Strode," said Mask primly, "talked to me about some money he -wished to place in my keeping. I was to give it back to him -personally, or when he sent the wooden hand. I understood from what -he hinted that there was a chance he might get into trouble. But he -explained nothing. He always spoke little and to the point."</p> - -<p>"And have you got this money?"</p> - -<p>"No. Mr. Strode didn't leave it with me."</p> - -<p>"Then why did he remark about his wooden hand?"</p> - -<p>"I expect he intended to leave the money with me when he returned from -Wargrove. So it would seem that he did not expect anything to happen -to him on his visit to his native place. If he had expected a tragedy, -he would have left the money; and the wooden hand would have been the -token for me to give it."</p> - -<p>"To whom, sir?"</p> - -<p>"To the person who brought the wooden hand."</p> - -<p>"And has it been brought?"</p> - -<p>"No. But I understand from Inspector Garrit that the hand has been -stolen."</p> - -<p>"Dear me--dear me." Mr. Shakerley rubbed his bald head irritably. -"This case is most perplexing. Who stole the hand?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Hill came forward at this point and related how he had gone into -the death chamber to find the hand gone. Eva detailed how she had -seen the hand still attached to the arm at dawn, and Mrs. Merry -deposed that she saw the hand with the body at nine o'clock. These -witnesses were exhaustively examined, but nothing further could be -learned. Mr. Strode had been shot through the heart, and the wooden -hand had been stolen. But who had shot him, or who had stolen the -hand, could not be discovered.</p> - -<p>The coroner did his best to bring out further evidence: but neither -Wasp nor Garrit could supply any more witnesses. The further the case -was gone into, the more mysterious did it seem. The money of the -deceased was untouched, so robbery could not have been the motive for -the commission of the crime. Finally, after a vain endeavour to -penetrate the mystery, the jury brought in a verdict of "Wilful murder -against some person or persons unknown."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VIII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">A NEW LIFE</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Nothing new was discovered after the inquest, although all inquiries -were made. Butsey had vanished. He was traced to Westhaven after his -interview with Wasp, and from that place had taken the train to -London. But after landing at Liverpool Street Station, he -disappeared into the world of humanity, and not even the efforts of -the London police could bring him to light. No weapon had been found -near the Red Deeps spring, nor could any footmarks be discerned -likely to lead to a detection of the assassin. Mr. Strode had been -shot by some unknown person, and it seemed as though the affair -would have to be relegated to the list of mysterious crimes. Perhaps -the absence of a reward had something to do with the inactivity -displayed by Garrit and Wasp.</p> - -<p>But how could a reward be offered when Eva had no money? After the -funeral, and when the dead man had been bestowed in the Strode vault -under St. Peter's Church, the lawyer called to see the girl. He told -her coldly, and without displaying any sympathy, that her father had -left no money in his hands, and that he could do nothing for her. Eva, -having been brought up in idleness, was alarmed at the prospect before -her. She did not know what to do.</p> - -<p>"I must earn my bread in some way," she said to Mrs. Merry a week -later, when consulting about ways and means. "I can't be a burden on -you, Nanny."</p> - -<p>"Deary," said the old woman, taking the girl's hand within her -withered claws, "you ain't no burden, whatever you may say. You stay -along with your old nurse, who loves you, an' who has fifty pound a -year, to say nothing of the castle and the land."</p> - -<p>"But, Nanny, I can't stay on here for ever."</p> - -<p>"And you won't, with that beauty," said Mrs. Merry sturdily, -"bless you, deary, Mr. Allen will marry you straight off if you'll -only say the word; I saw him in the village this very day, his -foot being nearly well. To be sure he was with his jelly-fish of a -pa; but I took it kind of him that he stopped and spoke to me. He -wants to marry you out of hand, Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>"I know," said the girl flushing; "I never doubted Allen's love. He has -asked me several times since the funeral to become his wife. But my -poor father----"</p> - -<p>"Poor father!" echoed Mrs. Merry in tones of contempt; "well, as he was -your pa after all, there ain't nothing to be said, whatever you may -think, Miss Eva. But he was a bad lot."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Merry, he's dead," said Eva rebukingly. The old woman -rubbed her hands and tucked them under her apron. "I know that," -said she with bright eyes, "and put 'longside that suffering -saint your dear ma: but their souls won't be together whatever -you may say, deary. Well, I'll say no more. Bad he was, and a -bad end he come to. I don't weep for him," added Mrs. Merry -viciously; "no more nor I'd weep for Giles if he was laid out, -and a nasty corp he'd make."</p> - -<p>Eva shuddered. "Don't speak like that."</p> - -<p>"Well then, deary, I won't, me not being wishful to make your young -blood run cold. But as to what you'll do, I'll just tell you what -I've thought of, lying awake. There's the empty room across the -passage waiting for a lodger; then the cow's milk can be sold, and -there's garden stuff by the bushel for sale. I might let out the -meadow as a grazing ground, too," said Mrs. Merry, rubbing her nose -thoughtfully, "but that the cow's as greedy a cow as I ever set eyes -on, an' I've had to do with 'em all my born days, Miss Eva. All -this, rent free, my dear, and fifty pounds in cash. You'll be as -happy as a queen living here, singing like a bee. And then when the -year's mourning is over--not as he deserves it--you'll marry Mr. -Allen and all will be gay."</p> - -<p>"Dear Nanny," said the girl, throwing her arms round the old woman's -neck, "how good you are. But, indeed I can't."</p> - -<p>"Then you must marry Mr. Allen straight away."</p> - -<p>"I can't do that either. I must earn my bread."</p> - -<p>"What," screeched Mrs. Merry, "and you a born lady! Never; that -saint would turn in her grave--and I wonder she don't, seeing she's -laid 'longside him as tortured her when alive. There's your titles, -of course, Lord Ipsen and his son."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't take a penny from them," said Eva colouring. "They -never took any notice of me when my father was alive, and----"</p> - -<p>"He didn't get on well with 'em," cried Mrs. Merry; "and who did he -get on with, I ask you, deary? There's Lady Ipsen--she would have -made much of you, but for him."</p> - -<p>"I don't like Lady Ipsen, Nanny. She called here, if you remember, -when my mother was alive. I'm not going to be patronised by her."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Miss Eva," said the old dame admiringly, "it's a fine, bright, -hardy spirit of your own as you've got. Lady Ipsen is as old as I -am, and makes herself up young with paint and them things. But she -has a heart. When she learned of your poverty----"</p> - -<p>Eva sprang to her feet. "No! no! no!" she cried vehemently, "never -mention her to me again. I would not go to my mother's family for -bread if I was starving. What I eat, I'll earn."</p> - -<p>"Tell Mr. Allen so," said Mrs. Merry, peering out of the window; -"here he comes. His foot 'ull get worse, if he walk so fast," she -added, with her usual pessimism.</p> - -<p>Allen did not wait to enter in by the door, but paused at the open -window before which Eva was standing. He looked ill and white and -worried, but his foot was better, though even now, he had to use a -stick, and walked slowly. "You should not have come out to-day," -said Eva, shaking her finger at him.</p> - -<p>"As Mrs. Mountain would not go to Mr. Mahomet," said Allen, trying to -smile, "Mr. Mahomet had to come to Mrs. Mountain. Wait till I come in, -Eva," and he disappeared.</p> - -<p>The girl busied herself in arranging an arm-chair with cushions, and -made her lover sit down when he was in the room. "There! you're more -comfortable." She sat down beside him. "I'll get you a cup of tea."</p> - -<p>"Don't bother," murmured Allen, closing his eyes.</p> - -<p>"It's no bother. In any case tea will have to be brought in. Mrs. -Palmer is coming to see me soon. She wants to talk to me."</p> - -<p>"What about?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say; but she asked me particularly to be at home to-day. We -can have our talk first, though. Do smoke, Allen."</p> - -<p>"No. I don't feel inclined to smoke."</p> - -<p>"Will you have some fruit?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank you," he said, so listlessly that Eva looked at him in -alarm. She noted how thin his face was, and how he had lost his -colour.</p> - -<p>"You do look ill, Allen."</p> - -<p>He smiled faintly. "The foot has pulled me down."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure it's only the foot?" she inquired, puzzled.</p> - -<p>"What else should it be?" asked Allen quietly; "you see I'm so used -to being in the open air, that a few days within doors, soon takes my -colour away. But my foot is nearly well. I'll soon be myself again. -But, Eva," he took her hand, "do you know why I come."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said looking away, "to ask me again to be your wife."</p> - -<p>"You have guessed it the first time," replied Allen, trying to be -jocular; "this is the third time of asking. Come, Eva," he added -coaxingly, "have you considered what I said?"</p> - -<p>"You want me to marry you at once," she murmured.</p> - -<p>"Next week, if possible. Then I can take you with me to South -America, and we can start a new life, far away from these old -vexations. Come, Eva. Near the mine, where I and Parkins are -working, there's a sleepy old Spanish town where I can buy the most -delightful house. The climate is glorious, and we would be so happy. -You'll soon pick up the language."</p> - -<p>"But why do you want me to leave England, Allen?"</p> - -<p>Hill turned away his head as he answered. "I haven't enough money to -keep you here in a proper position," he said quietly. "My father -allows me nothing, and will allow me nothing. I have to earn my own -bread, Eva, and to do so, have to live for the time being in South -America. I used to think it exile, but with you by my side, dearest, -it will be paradise. I want to marry you: my mother is eager to -welcome you as her daughter, and----"</p> - -<p>"And your father," said Eva, seeing he halted. Allen made a -gesture of indifference. "My father doesn't care one way or the -other, darling. You should know my father by this time. He is -wrapped up in himself. Egotism is a disease with him." Eva twisted -her hands together and frowned. "Allen, I really can't marry you," -she said decisively; "think how my father was murdered!"</p> - -<p>"What has that to do with it?" demanded Allen almost fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Dear, how you frighten me. There's no need to scowl in that way. -You have a temper, Allen, I can see."</p> - -<p>"It shall never be shown to you," he said fondly. "Come, Eva."</p> - -<p>But she still shook her head. "Allen, I had small cause to love my -father, as you know. Still, he has been foully murdered: I have made -up my mind to find out who killed him before I marry."</p> - -<p>Allen rose in spite of his weak ankle and flung away her hand. "Oh, -Eva," he said roughly, "is that all you care for me? My happiness is -to be settled in this vague way----"</p> - -<p>"Vague way----?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly!" cried Hill excitedly; "you may never learn who killed -your father. There's not a scrap of evidence to show who shot him."</p> - -<p>"I may find Butsey," said Eva, looking obstinate.</p> - -<p>"You'll never find him; and even if you do, how do we know that he can -tell?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain that he can tell much," said Miss Strode determinedly. -"Think, Allen. He sent the telegram probably by order of my father's -enemy. He came suddenly on those men at midnight when they were -carrying the body. What was a child like that doing out so late, if -he wasn't put up to mischief by some other person? And he knocked as -happened in my dream, remember," she said, sinking her voice; "and -then he came here with a lying message on the very day my father's -wooden hand was stolen."</p> - -<p>"Do you think he stole it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do; though why he should behave so I can't say. But I am quite -sure that Butsey is acting on behalf of some other person--probably -the man who killed my father."</p> - -<p>Allen shrugged his shoulders frowningly. "Perhaps Butsey killed Mr. -Strode himself," he said; "he has all the precocity of a criminal."</p> - -<p>"We might even learn that," replied Eva, annoyed by Allen's tone; "but -I am quite bent on searching for this boy and of learning who killed -my father and why he was killed."</p> - -<p>"How will you set about it?" asked Allen sullenly.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I have no money and no influence, and I am only a -girl. But I'll learn the truth somehow."</p> - -<p>Hill walked up and down the little room with a slight limp, though -his foot was much better and gave him no pain. He was annoyed that -Eva should be so bent on avenging the murder of her father, for he -quite agreed with Mrs. Merry that the man was not worth it. But he -knew that Eva had a mulish vein in her nature, and from the look -on her face and from the hard tones of her voice, he was sure she -would not be easily turned from her design. For a few minutes he -thought in silence, Eva watching him intently. Then he turned -suddenly: "Eva, my dear," he said, holding out his hands, "since -you are so bent upon learning the truth leave it in my hands. I'll -be better able to see about the matter than you. And if I find out -who killed your father----"</p> - -<p>"I'll marry you at once!" she cried, and threw herself into his arms.</p> - -<p>"I hope so," said Allen in a choked voice. "I'll do my best, Eva; -no man can do more. But if I fail, you must marry me. Here, I'll -make a bargain with you. If I can't find the assassin within a -year, will you give over this idea and become my wife?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Eva frankly; "but I am certain that the man will be -found through that boy Butsey."</p> - -<p>"He has to be found first," said Allen with a sigh, "and that is -no easy task. Well, Eva, I'll settle my affairs and start on this -search."</p> - -<p>"Your affairs!" said Eva in a tone of surprise.</p> - -<p>"Ah," said the young man smiling, "you have seen me idle for so -long that you think I have nothing to do. But I have to get back -soon to Bolivia. My friend Parkins and I are working an old silver -mine for a Spanish Don. But we discovered another and richer mine -shown to me by an Indian. I believe it was worked hundreds of -years ago by the Inca kings. Parkins and I can buy it, but we have -not the money. I came home to see if my father would help me. But -I might have spared myself the trouble: he refused at once. Since -then I have been trying all these months to find a capitalist, but -as yet I have not been successful. But I'll get him soon, and then -Parkins and I will buy the mine, and make our fortunes. I wish -you'd give up this wild goose chase after your father's murderer, -and let us go to Bolivia."</p> - -<p>"No," said Eva, "I must learn the truth. I would never be happy if -I died without knowing who killed my father, and why he was -killed."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, I'll do my best. I have written to Parkins asking -him to give me another six months to find a capitalist, and I -shall have to take rooms in London. While there I'll look at the -same time for Butsey, and perhaps may learn the truth. But if I -don't----"</p> - -<p>"I'll marry you, if you don't find the assassin in a year," said -Eva embracing him. "Ah, Allen, don't look so angry. I don't want -you to search all your life: but one year--twelve months----"</p> - -<p>"Then it's a bargain," said Allen kissing her: "and, by the way, I -shall have the assistance of Parkins's brother."</p> - -<p>"Who is he?" asked Eva; "I don't want every one to----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's all right. Parkins tells me his brother is shrewd and -clever. I may as well have his assistance. Besides, I got a letter -from Horace Parkins--that's the brother, for my man is called -Mark--and he is in town now. He has just come from South Africa, so -he may know of your father's doings there."</p> - -<p>"Oh," Eva looked excited, "and he may be able to say who killed him!"</p> - -<p>Allen shrugged his shoulders. "I don't say that. Your father may -have had enemies in England as well as in Africa. But we'll see. I -have never met Horace Parkins, but if he's as good a fellow as his -brother Mark, my chum and partner, he'll do all he can to help me."</p> - -<p>"I am sure you will succeed, Allen," cried Eva joyfully; "look how -things are fitting in. Mr. Parkins, coming from Africa, is just the -person to know about my father."</p> - -<p>Young Hill said nothing. He fancied that Horace Parkins might know -more about Mr. Strode than Eva would like to hear, for if the man -was so great a scamp in England, he certainly would not settle -down to a respectable life in the wilds. However he said nothing -on this point, but merely reiterated his promise to find out who -murdered Robert Strode, and then drew Eva down beside him. "What -about yourself?" he asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Mrs. Merry wants me to stop here."</p> - -<p>"I should think that is the best thing to do."</p> - -<p>"But I can't," replied Eva, shaking her head; "Mrs. Merry is poor. I -can't live on her."</p> - -<p>"I admire your spirit, Eva, but I don't think Mrs. Merry would think -you were doing her anything but honour."</p> - -<p>"All the more reason I should not take advantage of her kindness."</p> - -<p>Allen laughed. "You argue well," he said indulgently. "But see here, -dearest. My mother is fond of you, and knows your position. She wants -you to come to her."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Allen, if she were alone I would love to. I am very -devoted to your mother. But your father----"</p> - -<p>"He won't mind."</p> - -<p>"But I do," said Eva, her colour rising. "I don't like to say so to -you, Allen, but I must."</p> - -<p>"Say what?"</p> - -<p>"That I don't like your father very much."</p> - -<p>"That means you don't like him at all," said the son coolly. "Dear -me, Eva, what unpleasant parents you and I have. Your father and -mine--neither very popular. But you won't come?"</p> - -<p>"I can't, Allen."</p> - -<p>"You know my father is your dead father's dearest friend."</p> - -<p>"All the same I can't come."</p> - -<p>"What will you do, then?" asked Allen vexed.</p> - -<p>"Go out as a governess."</p> - -<p>"No; you must not do that. Why not----"</p> - -<p>Before Allen could propose anything the door opened and Mrs. Merry, -with a sour face, ushered in Mrs. Palmer. The widow looked prettier -and brighter than ever, though rather commonplace. With a -disdainful sniff Mrs. Merry banged the door.</p> - -<p>"Eva, dear," said Mrs. Palmer. "Mr. Hill, how are you? I've come on -business."</p> - -<p>"Business?" said Eva surprised.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Pardon my being so abrupt, but if I don't ask you now I'll lose -courage. I want you to come and be my companion."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IX</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>So here was a way opened by Providence in an unexpected direction. -Mrs. Palmer, with a high colour and rather a nervous look, stood -waiting for Eva's reply. The girl looked at her lover, but Allen, -very wisely, said nothing. He thought that this was a matter which -Eva should settle for herself. But he was secretly amused at the -abrupt way in which the little widow had spoken. It seemed as -though she was asking a favour instead of conferring one. Miss -Strode was the first of the three to recover, and then she did not -reply immediately. She first wanted to know why Mrs. Palmer had -made so generous an offer.</p> - -<p>"Do sit down," she said, pushing forward a chair, "and then we can -talk the matter over. I need not tell you that I am very thankful -for your kind offer."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear;" Mrs. Palmer sank into the chair and fanned herself -with a lace handkerchief, "if you accept it, it is I who shall be -thankful. I do hate living by myself, and I've never been able to -find a companion I liked. But you, dear Eva, have always been a -pet of mine. I have known you for four years, and I always did -think you the very dearest of girls. If you will only come we -shall be so happy."</p> - -<p>"But what makes you think that I want to be any one's -companion?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Palmer coloured and laughed nervously. She was very pretty, -but with her pink and white complexion and flaxen hair and pale -blue eyes she looked like a wax doll. Any one could see at a glance -that she was perfectly honest. So shallow a nature was incapable of -plotting, or of acting in a double fashion. Yet Eva wondered all -the same that the widow should have made her so abrupt a proposal. -So far as she knew, no one was aware that she was in want of money, -and it seemed strange if providential that Mrs. Palmer should come -in the very nick of time to help her in this way.</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear," she said at length and looking at her -primrose-hued gloves, "it was Lord Saltars who led me to make the -offer."</p> - -<p>"My cousin." Eva frowned and Allen looked up. "Do you know him?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes. Didn't I mention that I did?"</p> - -<p>"No. I was not aware that you had ever met."</p> - -<p>"We did in town about a year ago. I met him only once when I was -at Mr. Mask's to dinner. Since then I have not seen him until the -other day, and perhaps that was why I said nothing. I remember -you told me he was your cousin, Eva, but I quite forgot to say -that I knew him."</p> - -<p>"Do you know Mr. Mask?" asked Hill.</p> - -<p>"Of course I do. You know I quarrelled with my old lawyer about -the money left by Palmer. He was most disagreeable, so I resolved -to change for a nicer man. I spoke to your father about it, and he -kindly gave me the address of his own lawyer. I went up and -settled things most satisfactorily. Of course Mr. Mask is a -fearful old mummy," prattled on Mrs. Palmer in her airy fashion, -"but he is agreeable over legal matters, and understands business. -Palmer's affairs were rather complicated, you know, so I placed -them all in Mr. Mask's hands. He has been my lawyer ever since, and -I have every reason to be pleased."</p> - -<p>"And you met my cousin there?" said Eva doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Lord Saltars? Yes. I was dining with Mr. Mask and his wife in -their Bloomsbury Square house, a doleful old place. Lord Saltars -came in to see Mr. Mask on business after dinner, so Mr. Mask -asked him in to drink coffee. I was there, and so we met."</p> - -<p>"Did he mention my name?" asked Miss Strode stiffly.</p> - -<p>"Oh dear, no. He was unaware that I lived in the same village as -you did. We talked about general things. But he mentioned it to me -the other night at the circus, when I went to see the performance -at Shanton."</p> - -<p>"Did you go there?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Palmer laughing. "I'm sure this -place is dull enough. Any amusement pleases me. I didn't know at -the time that your father was dead, Eva, or I should not have -gone--not that I knew Mr. Strode, but still, you are my friend, -and I should have come to comfort you. But you know I'm at the -other end of the village, and the news had not time to get to me -before I started for Shanton to luncheon with some friends. I -remained with them for the night, and we went to the circus. Lord -Saltars sat next to me, and we remembered that we had met before. -In the course of conversation I mentioned that I lived at -Wargrove, and he asked if I knew you. I said that I did."</p> - -<p>"How did Lord Saltars know of the murder?" asked Allen hastily.</p> - -<p>"I believe he learned it from one of the performers called Miss----"</p> - -<p>"Miss Lorry," said Eva colouring--"I remember. Cain told her, and -she had the audacity to speak to me."</p> - -<p>Allen said nothing, remembering the message Miss Lorry had -delivered relative to the wooden hand. He had not spoken of it to -Eva hitherto, and thought wisely that this was not the time to -reveal his knowledge. He preferred to listen to Mrs. Palmer, who as -yet had not shown how she came to know that Eva needed the offer of -a situation.</p> - -<p>"So Miss Lorry spoke to you?" said Mrs. Palmer with great -curiosity; "such a bold woman, though handsome enough. Lord Saltars -seems to think a lot of her. Indeed I heard a rumour that he was -about to marry her. My friends told me. But people will gossip," -added Mrs. Palmer apologetically.</p> - -<p>"Lord Saltars and his doings do not interest me," said Eva -coldly. "We have only met once, and I don't like him. He is too -fast for me. I could never enjoy the company of a man like that. -I think as he was related by marriage to my father, he might have -called to see me about the matter, and offered his assistance."</p> - -<p>"We can do without that," cried Allen quickly.</p> - -<p>"Lord Saltars doesn't know that we can," replied Eva sharply; -"however, I understand how you met him, Mrs. Palmer, and how he -came to know about the murder through Miss Lorry, who heard of it -from Cain. But what has all this to do with your asking me to be your -companion?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Palmer coloured again and seemed embarrassed. "My dear," she -said seriously, "I shall have to tell you about Mr. Mask first, -that you may know all. After the inquest he called to see me----"</p> - -<p>"But he came here," put in Eva.</p> - -<p>"Quite so, and told you that your father had left no money."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Mask told me," said the widow simply, and laid her hand on -Eva's hand; "don't be angry, my dear. Mr. Mask came to me and told -me you were poor. He asked me if I would help you in what way I -could, as he said he knew I was rich and kind hearted. I am the -first, but I really don't know if I'm the last."</p> - -<p>"I think you are," said Miss Strode softly. "I never gave Mr. -Mask leave to talk of my business, and I don't know why he should -have done so, as he did not seem to care what became of me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but I think he intended to help you if he could, and came to tell -me of your dilemma for that purpose, Eva."</p> - -<p>"Apparently he wished to play the part of a good Samaritan at your -expense, Mrs. Palmer," said Eva drily; "however, I understand how -you came to know that I needed assistance, but Lord Saltars----"</p> - -<p>"Ah!" cried the widow vivaciously, "that is what puzzles me. Lord -Saltars seems to think you are rich."</p> - -<p>"Rich?" echoed Allen, while Eva also looked surprised.</p> - -<p>"Yes. He said you would no doubt inherit your father's money. I -answered--pardon me, Eva--that Mr. Strode was not rich, for I heard so -in another quarter."</p> - -<p>Eva looked at Allen, and Allen at Eva. Both guessed that the -quarter indicated was Mr. Hill, who had a long tongue and small -discretion. Mrs. Palmer, however, never noticed the exchange of -glances, and prattled on. "Lord Saltars insisted that your father had -brought home a fortune from Africa."</p> - -<p>"How did he know that?" asked Allen quickly.</p> - -<p>"I don't know, he didn't say. I of course began to believe him, for -when I hinted doubts, Lord Saltars said that if I offered to help -you, I would learn that you were poor. I really thought you were -rich, Eva, till Mr. Mask came to me, or I should have come before to -make you this offer. But Mr. Mask undeceived me. I told him what Lord -Saltars had said, but Mr. Mask replied that his lordship was quite -wrong--that Mr. Strode had left no money, and that you would not be -able to live. I therefore came to ask you to be my companion at the -salary of one hundred a year. I don't know how I dare offer it, my -dear," said the good-hearted widow; "and if I hadn't spoken just when -I came in, I should not have had the courage. But now I have made the -offer, what do you say?"</p> - -<p>"I think it is very good and kind of you--"</p> - -<p>"And bold. Yes, I can see it in your eyes--very speaking eyes they -are--that you think I am bold in meddling with your private affairs. -But if you really think so, please forgive me and I'll go away. You -may be sure I'll hold my tongue about the matter. If every one thinks -you are rich--as they do--it is not for me to contradict them."</p> - -<p>Eva laughed rather sadly. "I really don't know why people think I -am rich," she said in a low voice; "my father has always been poor -through speculation. What his money affairs were when he came home -I don't know. He said nothing to me, and no papers were found at -the hotel or in his pockets, likely to throw light on them. He -never told Mr. Mask he was rich----"</p> - -<p>"I thought at the inquest Mr. Mask said something about money -being left in his charge, Eva?" said Allen.</p> - -<p>Miss Strode nodded. "My father mentioned that later he might give -Mr. Mask some money to hold for him, and that he would come again -himself to get it. If not, he would send his wooden hand as a sign -that the money should be handed over to any one who brought it."</p> - -<p>"Humph," said Allen pulling his moustache, "it seems to me that the -hand has been stolen for that purpose."</p> - -<p>"If so, it will be taken to Mr. Mask, and then we will learn who -stole it. But of course Mr. Mask will not be able to give any -money, as my father--so he said--never left any with him."</p> - -<p>"This is all most interesting and mysterious," said Mrs. Palmer. "Oh -dear me, I wonder who killed your poor father? Don't look anxious, -Eva; what you and Mr. Hill say, will never be repeated by me. All I -come for is to make this offer, and if you think me rude or -interfering I can only apologise and withdraw."</p> - -<p>Eva caught the widow by the hand. "I think you are very kind," she -said cordially, "and I thankfully accept your offer."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you dear girl!" and Mrs. Palmer embraced her.</p> - -<p>"Have you quite decided to do that, Eva?" asked Allen.</p> - -<p>"Quite," she answered firmly. "Mrs. Palmer likes me----"</p> - -<p>"I quite adore you, Eva, dear!" cried the widow.</p> - -<p>"And I am fond of her."</p> - -<p>"I know you are, dear, though you never would call me Constance."</p> - -<p>"Later I may call you Constance," said Eva, smiling at the simple -way in which Mrs. Palmer talked. "So you may look upon it as -settled. I shall come to be your companion whenever you like."</p> - -<p>"Come at once, dear."</p> - -<p>"No, I must wait here a few days to reconcile my old nurse to my -departure."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Merry? Oh, Eva, I am afraid she will hate me for this. She -doesn't like me as it is. I don't know why," added Mrs. Palmer -dolefully; "I am always polite to the lower orders."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Merry is an odd woman," said Eva rising, "but her heart is -in the right place."</p> - -<p>"Odd people's hearts always are," said the widow. "Wait here and -talk to Allen," said Eva going to the door. "I'll see about tea."</p> - -<p>But the fact is Eva wanted to talk to Mrs. Merry, anxious to get over -a disagreeable interview, as she knew there would be strenuous -opposition. To her surprise, however, Mrs. Merry was in favour of the -scheme, and announced her decision when Eva came to the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Don't tell me about it, Miss Eva," she said, "for I had my ear to the -keyhole all the time."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Nanny!"</p> - -<p>"And why do you say that?" asked the old woman bristling; "if I -ain't got the right to look after you who has? I never cared for -that Mrs. Palmer, as is common of commonest, so I listened to hear -what she'd come about."</p> - -<p>"Then you know all. What do you say?"</p> - -<p>"Go, of course."</p> - -<p>"But, Nanny, I thought----"</p> - -<p>"I know you did, deary," said Mrs. Merry penitently. "I'm always -calling folk names by reason of my having bin put on in life. And -Mrs. Palmer is common--there's no denying--her father being a -chemist and her late husband eggs and butter. But she's got a kind -heart, though I don't see what right that Mask thing had to talk -to her of your being poor when I've got this roof and fifty pound. -Nasty creature, he wouldn't help you. But Mrs. Palmer is kind, -Miss Eva, so I say, take what she offers. You'll be near me, and -perhaps you'll be able to teach her manners, though you'll never -make a silk purse out of a swine's ear."</p> - -<p>Eva was surprised by this surrender, and moreover saw that Mrs. -Merry's eyes were red. In her hands she held a letter, and Eva -remembered that the post had called an hour before. "Have you had -bad news, Nanny?" she asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>"I got a letter from Giles," said Mrs. Merry dully; "he writes -from Whitechapel, saying he's down on his luck and may come home. -That's why I want you to go to Mrs. Palmer, deary. I can't keep -you here with a nasty, swearing jail-bird in the house. Oh dear -me," cried Mrs. Merry, bursting into tears, "and I thought Giles was -dead, whatever you may say, drat him!"</p> - -<p>"But, Nanny, you needn't have him in the house if he treats you badly. -This place is your own."</p> - -<p>"I must have him," said the old woman helplessly, "else he'll break the -winders and disgrace me before every one. You don't know what an awful -man he is when roused. He'd murder me if I crossed him. But to think -he should turn up after all these years, when I thought him as dead -and buried and being punished for his wickedness."</p> - -<p>"Nanny," said Eva kissing the poor wrinkled face, "I'll speak to you -later about this. Meanwhile I'll tell Mrs. Palmer that I accept her -offer."</p> - -<p>"Yes do, deary. It goes to my heart for you to leave. But 'tis better -so, and you'll have your pride satisfied. And it will be Christian -work," added Mrs. Merry, "to dress that widder properly. Rainbows -ain't in it, with the colours she puts on."</p> - -<p>Eva could not help smiling at this view of the matter, and withdrew -to excuse herself offering tea to Mrs. Palmer. Nanny was not in a -state to make tea, and Eva wished to return and learn more, also to -comfort her. She therefore again told Mrs. Palmer that she accepted -the offer and would come to her next week. Then taking leave of -Allen, Eva went back to the kitchen. Mrs. Palmer and her companion -walked down the road.</p> - -<p>"I hope you think I've acted rightly, Mr. Hill," said the widow.</p> - -<p>"I think you are most kind," said Allen, "and I hope you will make Eva -happy."</p> - -<p>"I'll do my best. She shall be a sister to me. But I think," said -Mrs. Palmer archly, "that some one else may make her happier."</p> - -<p>"That is not to be my fate at present," said Allen a little sadly. -"Good-bye, Mrs. Palmer. I'll come and see you and Eva before I go -to town."</p> - -<p>"You'll always be welcome, Mr. Hill, and I can play the part of -gooseberry." So they parted laughing.</p> - -<p>Allen, thinking of this turn in Eva's affairs which had given her a -home and a kind woman to look after her, walked towards the common -to get a breath of fresh air before returning to "The Arabian -Nights." Also he wished to think over his plans regarding meeting -Horace Parkins and searching for Butsey, on whom seemed to hang the -whole matter of the discovery of Strode's assassin. At the end of -the road the young man was stopped by a tall, fresh-coloured girl -neatly dressed, who dropped a curtsey.</p> - -<p>"Well, Jane, and how are you?" asked Allen kindly, recognising -the girl as Wasp's eldest daughter.</p> - -<p>"I'm quite well, and, please, I was to give you this," said Jane.</p> - -<p>Allen took a brown paper parcel and looked at it with surprise. -It was directed to 'Lawrence Hill.' "My father," said Allen. -"Why don't you take it to the house?"</p> - -<p>"I saw you coming, sir, and I thought I'd give it to you. I've -just walked from Westhaven, and father will be expecting me home. -I won't have time to take the parcel to 'The Arabian Nights.'"</p> - -<p>"Where did this come from?" asked Allen, tucking the parcel under his -arm.</p> - -<p>"I got it from Cain, sir, at Colchester."</p> - -<p>"Have you been there?" asked Hill, noting the girl's blush. He -knew that Cain and Jane Wasp admired one another, though the -policeman was not at all in favour of Cain, whom he regarded, and -with some right to do so, as a vagabond.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. Mother sent me over with a message to a friend of -hers. I walked to Westhaven and took the train to Colchester. -Stag's Circus is there, and I met Cain. He brought that parcel -and asked me to take it to Mr. Hill."</p> - -<p>"But why should Cain send parcels to my father?" asked Allen.</p> - -<p>"I don't know, sir. But I must get home, or father will be -angry."</p> - -<p>When the girl marched off--which she did in a military way -suggestive of her father's training--Allen proceeded homeward. The -parcel was very light and he could not conjecture what was inside -it. He noted that the address had been written by some one to whom -writing was a pain, for the caligraphy sprawled and wavered -lamentably. Cain had been to a board school and could write very -well, so apparently it was not his writing. Allen wondered who -could be corresponding with his father, but as the matter was -really none of his business, he took the parcel home. At the gate -of "The Arabian Nights" he met his father.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hill was as gay and as airy as ever, and wore his usual brown -velvet coat and white trousers. Also he had on the large straw -hat, and a rose bloomed in his buttonhole. He saluted his son in -an offhand manner. "I've been walking, Allen," he said lightly, -"to get inspiration for a poem on the fall of Jerusalem."</p> - -<p>"I think some Italian poet has written on that subject, sir."</p> - -<p>"But not as it should be written, Allen. However, I can't waste -time now in enlightening your ignorance. What have you here?"</p> - -<p>"A parcel for you," and Allen gave it.</p> - -<p>"For me, really." Mr. Hill was like a child with a new toy, and sat -down on the grass by the gate to open it. The removal of the brown -paper revealed a cardboard box. Hill lifted the lid, and there were -two dry sticks tied in the form of a cross with a piece of grass. -But Allen looked at this only for a moment. His father had turned -white, and after a moment quietly fainted away. The young man looked -down with a haggard face. "Am I right after all?" he asked himself.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER X</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">MRS. HILL EXPLAINS</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>An hour later Allen was conversing with his mother. Mr. Hill, carried -into the house by Allen, had been revived; but he steadfastly refused -to speak as to the cause of his fainting; and put it down to the heat -of the weather and to his having taken too long a walk. These excuses -were so feeble that the son could not help his lip curling at their -manifest untruth. Hill saw this and told Allen he would lie down for -an hour or so. "When I rise I may tell you something," he said feebly.</p> - -<p>"I think we may as well understand one another," said Allen coldly.</p> - -<p>"Bring in here those things which came in the parcel," said Hill.</p> - -<p>"Only one thing came," replied his son--"a rough cross----"</p> - -<p>"Yes--yes--I know. Bring it in--paper and box and all. Where did you -get it?"</p> - -<p>Allen explained how Jane Wasp received it from Cain at Colchester, and -Mr. Hill listened attentively. "I understand now," he said at length. -"Put the things in my study. I'll see you later--say in two hours."</p> - -<p>The young man, wondering what it all meant, departed and left his -father to take--on the face of it--a much needed sleep. He went -outside and picked up the cross, the box, and the paper, which -still remained on the grassy bank near the gate. These he brought -into the study, and examined them. But nothing was revealed to his -intelligence. The box was an ordinary cardboard one; he did not -recognise the ill-formed writing, and the cross was simply two -sticks tied together by a wisp of dry grass. Why the contents of -the box should have terrified his father Allen could not say. And -that the sight of the symbol did terrify him, he was well assured, -since Mr. Hill was not a man given to fainting. The box came from -some one who knew Mr. Hill well, as the name Lawrence was on it, -and this was his father's second name rarely used. Mr. Hill -usually called himself Harold, and suppressed the Lawrence. But -Allen had seen the middle name inscribed in an old book, which had -been given by Strode to Hill in their college days. This -coincidence made Allen wonder if the sending of the cross and the -use of the rarely used name had anything to do with the murder.</p> - -<p>While he thus thought, with his face growing darker and darker, -the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered. She had been working in her -own room, and knew nothing of the affair. But some instinct made -her aware that Allen was in the house, and she never failed to be -with him when he was at home. Indeed, she was hardly able to bear -him out of her sight, and seized every opportunity to be in his -presence. With this love it was strange that Mrs. Hill should be -content that Allen should remain in South America for so long, and -pay only flying visits to the paternal roof.</p> - -<p>"You are back, Allen," she said softly, and came forward to lay -her hand on his wrinkled forehead. "My dear boy, why that frown? -Has Eva been unkind?"</p> - -<p>"Oh no," said Allen, taking his mother's hand and kissing it, "she -will not marry me yet."</p> - -<p>"Foolish girl. What does she intend to do--stop with Mrs. Merry, I -suppose, which is a dull life for her? Far better if she came to -me, even if she will not marry you at once."</p> - -<p>"She has accepted the position of companion to Mrs. Palmer."</p> - -<p>"Indeed," said Mrs. Hill, looking surprised; "I should have thought -her pride would have prevented her placing herself under an -obligation."</p> - -<p>Allen shrugged his shoulders. "There is no obligation," he said; "Eva -is to be paid a salary. Besides, she likes Mrs. Palmer, and so do I."</p> - -<p>"She is not a lady," said Mrs. Hill, pursing up her lips.</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless she has a kind heart, and will make Eva very happy. -I think, mother, it is the best that can be done. Eva doesn't want -to come here, and she will not marry me until the murderer of her -father is discovered."</p> - -<p>"Why won't she come to me?" asked Mrs. Hill sharply.</p> - -<p>Allen looked down. "She doesn't like my father," he said.</p> - -<p>"Very rude of her to tell you that. But I know my poor Harold is -not popular."</p> - -<p>"He is whimsical," said Allen, "and, somehow, Eva can't get on with -him. She was not rude, mother, but simply stated a fact. She likes -my father well enough to meet him occasionally, but she would not -care to live with him. And if it comes to that," added Allen -frowning, "no more should I. He is too eccentric for me, mother, and -I should think for you, mother."</p> - -<p>"I am fond of your father in my own way," said Mrs. Hill, looking down -and speaking in a low voice, as though she made an effort to confess -as much. "But does Eva expect to find out who murdered Mr. Strode?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. She refuses to marry me until the assassin is found and -punished. As she was bent on searching for the man herself, I offered -to search for her."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill frowned. "Why did you do that?" she asked sharply; "Strode -is nothing to you, and you have to return to America. Far better -find that capitalist you want, than waste your time in avenging the -death of that man."</p> - -<p>"You don't seem to like Mr. Strode, mother."</p> - -<p>"I hate him," said the woman harshly and clenching her fist: "I have -cause to hate him."</p> - -<p>"Had my father cause also?" asked Allen pointedly.</p> - -<p>She looked away. "I don't know," she answered gloomily. "Strode and -your father were very intimate all their lives, till both married. -Then we saw very little of him. He was not a good man--Strode, I mean, -Allen. If my word has any weight with you, stop this search."</p> - -<p>The young man rose and began to pace the library. "Mother, I must take -up the search," he said in an agitated voice, "for my father's sake. -No one but myself must search for the assassin."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by that?" questioned Mrs. Hill, sitting very -upright and frowning darker than ever.</p> - -<p>Allen replied by asking a question. "Who knows that my father is called -Lawrence, mother?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill uttered an ejaculation of surprise and grew pale. "Who -told you he was called so?"</p> - -<p>"I found the name in an old book of Cowper's poems given by Mr. -Strode to my father in their college days. It was presented to -Harold Lawrence Hill."</p> - -<p>"I remember the book," said Mrs. Hill, recovering her composure. "But -what is odd about your father having two names? He certainly has -dropped the Lawrence and calls himself simply, Harold Hill--but that -is for the sake of convenience. Only those who knew him in his young -days would know the name of Lawrence."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Allen, thoughtfully turning over the brown paper, "then this -was sent by some one who knew him in his young days."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill looked at the brown paper covering, at the box, and at the -roughly-formed cross. "What are these?" she asked carelessly.</p> - -<p>"That is what I should like to know," said her son; "at least I should -like to know why the sight of this cross made my father faint."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill gasped, and laid her hand on her heart as though she felt -a sudden pain. "Did he faint?" she asked--"did Lawrence faint?" The -young man noticed the slip. Usually his mother called his father Mr. -Hill or Harold, but never till this moment had he heard her call him -Lawrence. Apparently the memory of old events was working in her -breast. But she seemed genuinely perplexed as to the reason of Hill's -behaviour at the sight of the cross. "Where did he faint?"</p> - -<p>"Outside the gate," said Allen quickly, and explained how he had -received the parcel from Jane Wasp, and the circumstance of its -delivery, ending with the query: "Why did he faint?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say," said Mrs. Hill, pushing back the cross and box -pettishly; "there is no reason so far as I know. We'll ask your father -when he awakens."</p> - -<p>"He said he would explain," said Allen sadly; "and between you and me, -mother, we must have an explanation."</p> - -<p>"Your father won't like the use of the word 'must,' Allen."</p> - -<p>"I can't help that," said the young man doggedly, and went to the -door of the library. He opened it, looked out, and then closed it -again. His mother saw all this with surprise, and was still more -surprised when Allen spoke again. "Do you know, mother, why I say I -must undertake this investigation?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "I don't know."</p> - -<p>"It is because I wish to save my father's good name."</p> - -<p>"Is it in danger?" asked the woman, turning pale again.</p> - -<p>"It might be--if any one knew he met Mr. Strode at the Red Deeps on -the night of the murder."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill leaped to her feet and clutched her son's arm. "Allen," -she gasped, and the ashen colour of her face alarmed him, "how dare -you say that--it is not possible--it cannot--cannot--"</p> - -<p>"It is possible," said Allen firmly. "Sit down, mother, and let me -explain. I held my tongue as long as I could, but now my father and I -must have an explanation. The fact of his fainting at the sight of -this cross makes me suspicious, and the fact that Eva wants to -investigate the case makes me afraid of what may come out."</p> - -<p>"Has the cross anything to do with the affair?"</p> - -<p>"Heaven, whose symbol it is, only knows," said the young man gloomily. -Mother, "I am moving in the darkness, and I dread to come into the -light. If I undertake this search I may be able to save my father."</p> - -<p>"From what--from--from----"</p> - -<p>Allen nodded and sank his voice. "It may even come to that. -Listen, mother, I'll tell you what I know. On that night I went to -the Red Deeps to prove the falsity of Eva's dream, I found it only -too true."</p> - -<p>"But you never got to the Red Deeps," said Mrs. Hill, looking -steadily into her son's face, "you sprained your ankle."</p> - -<p>"So I did, but that was <i>after</i> I knew the truth."</p> - -<p>"What truth?"</p> - -<p>"That Eva's dream was true; that her father was lying dead by the -spring of the Red Deeps."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill looked still more searchingly at him. "You saw that?"</p> - -<p>"I did--in the twilight. I reached there before it grew very -dark. I found the body, and, as in Eva's dream, I recognised it -by the gloved right hand----"</p> - -<p>"The wooden hand," moaned Mrs. Hill, rocking herself. "Oh, -heavens!"</p> - -<p>"Yes! The whiteness of the glove caught my eyes. From what Eva had -told me, I had no need to guess who was the dead man. The wooden -hand explained all. The corpse was that of Strode, shot through -the heart."</p> - -<p>"But there was a slight flesh wound on the arm, remember," said Mrs. -Hill.</p> - -<p>"I know, but I did not notice that at the time," said Allen quickly. -"At first, mother, I intended to give the alarm, and I was hurrying -back to Wargrove to tell Wasp and Jackson, when I caught sight of a -revolver lying in the mud. I took it up--there was a name on the -silver plate on the butt. It was----" Allen sank his voice still -lower. "It was my own name."</p> - -<p>"The revolver was yours?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I brought it with me from South America, and kept it in my -portmanteau, since a weapon is not needed in England. But one day I -took it out to shoot some birds and left it in this library. I never -thought about it again, or I should have put it away. The next sight I -got of it was in the Red Deeps, and I thought----"</p> - -<p>"That your father took it to shoot Strode!" burst out Mrs. Hill. "You -can't be certain of that--you can't be certain. No, no, Lawrence!" -again she used the unaccustomed name. "Lawrence would never commit a -murder--so good--so kind--no, no."</p> - -<p>Allen looked surprised. He never expected his mother to stand up for -his father in this way. Hill, so far as the son had seen, was not kind -to any one, and he certainly was not good. Why Mrs. Hill, who seemed -to have no particular affection for him, should defend him in this way -puzzled the young man. She saw the effect her speech had produced and -beckoned Allen to sit down. "You must know all," she said--"you must -know how I came to marry your father; and then you will know why I -speak as I do, Allen." She laid a trembling hand on his shoulder. "You -never thought I was fond of your father?"</p> - -<p>Allen looked embarrassed. "Well, no, mother. I thought you tolerated -him. You have strength to rule the house and the whole county if you -chose to exert it, but you let my father indulge in his whims and -fancies, and allow him to speak to you, as he certainly should not -do. Oftentimes I have been inclined to interfere when hearing how -disrespectfully he speaks, but you have always either touched me, or -have given me a look."</p> - -<p>"I would let no one lay a finger on your father, Allen, no one--let -alone his son. I don't love your father, I never did, but"--she -drew herself up--"I respect him."</p> - -<p>The young man looked aghast. "I don't see how any one can respect -him," he said. "Heaven only knows I should like to be proud of my -father, but with his eccentricities----"</p> - -<p>"They cover a good heart."</p> - -<p>"Well, mother, you know best," said Allen soothingly. He did not -think his father possessed a good heart by any manner of means. The -young fellow was affectionate, but he was also keen sighted, and Mr. -Hill had never commanded his respect in any way.</p> - -<p>"I <i>do</i> know best," said Mrs. Hill in a strong tone, and looked -quite commanding. "Allen, are you aware why I am so fond of Eva?"</p> - -<p>"Because she is the most charming girl in the world," said the -lover fondly. "Who could help being fond of Eva?"</p> - -<p>"Women are not usually fond of one another to that extent," said -Mrs. Hill drily; "and a mother does not always love the girl who -is likely to take her son away. No, Allen, I don't love Eva so -much for her own sake as because she is the daughter of Robert -Strode."</p> - -<p>"I thought you disliked him--you said he was not a good man."</p> - -<p>"Neither he was, Allen. He was the worst of men--but I loved him -all the same. I should have married him, but for a trouble that -came. I have never told any one what I am about to tell you, but -you must know. I don't believe your father killed Strode, and you -must do your best to keep him out of the investigation. With your -father's sensitive nature he would go mad if he were accused of -such a crime."</p> - -<p>"But my revolver being found in----"</p> - -<p>"That can be explained," said Mrs. Hill imperiously. "I shall ask -Harold"--she went back to the old name being calmer. "I shall ask -him myself to explain. He is innocent. He is whimsical and -strange, but he would not kill a fly. He is too goodhearted."</p> - -<p>Allen wondered more and more that his mother should be so blind. "I -am waiting to hear," he said resignedly.</p> - -<p>"You will not repeat what I say to Eva?"</p> - -<p>"To no one, mother. Great heavens, do you think I would?"</p> - -<p>"If you took after your father, poor, babbling soul, you would."</p> - -<p>"Ah," Allen kissed her hand, "but I am your own son, and know how to -hold my tongue. Come, mother, tell me all."</p> - -<p>"Then don't interrupt till I end; then you can make your -comments, Allen." She settled herself and began to speak slowly. -"Both my parents died when I was a young girl, and like Eva Strode I -was left without a penny. I was taken into the house of Lord Ipsen as -a nursery governess----"</p> - -<p>"What! Eva's mother----"</p> - -<p>"I did not teach her, as she was my own age, but I taught her younger -brother, who afterwards died. You promised not to interrupt, Allen. -Well, I was comparatively happy there, but Lady Ipsen did not like -me. We got on badly. There was a large house-party at the family seat -in Buckinghamshire, and I was there with my charge. Amongst the -guests were Mr. Strode and your father. They were both in love with -Lady Jane Delham."</p> - -<p>"What! my father also? I never knew----"</p> - -<p>"You never shall know if you interrupt," said his mother imperiously; -"wait and listen. I loved Mr. Strode, but as he was favoured by Lady -Jane I saw there was no chance for me. Your father then had not come -in for his money, and his father, ambitious and rich, was anxious that -he should make an aristocratic match. That was why he asked Lady Jane -to be his wife. She refused, as she loved Robert Strode. I felt very -miserable, Allen, and as your father was miserable also, he used to -console me. He was much appreciated for his talents in the house, and -as he was a great friend of Mr. Strode's his lack of birth was -overlooked. Not that I think Lord Ipsen would have allowed him to -marry Lady Jane. But he never guessed that Harold lifted his eyes so -high. Well, things were in this position when the necklace was -lost--yes, the necklace belonging to Lady Ipsen, a family heirloom -valued at ten thousand pounds. It was taken out of the safe." Mrs. -Hill dropped her eyes and added in a low voice, "I was accused."</p> - -<p>Allen could hardly believe his ears, and rose, filled with -indignation: "Do you mean to say that any one dared to accuse you?"</p> - -<p>"Lady Ipsen did. She never liked me, and made the accusation. She -declared that she left the key of the safe in the school-room. As -I was very poor, she insisted that I had taken it. As it happened -I did go to London shortly after the robbery and before it was -found out. Lady Ispen said that I went to pawn the necklace. I -could not prove my innocence, but the Earl interfered and stood -by me. He insisted that the charge was ridiculous, and made the -detectives which Lady Ipsen had called in, drop the investigation. -I was considered innocent by all save Lady Ipsen. The necklace -was never found, and has not been to this day. I was discharged -with hardly a penny in my pocket and certainly with no friend. -In spite of people saying I was innocent I could not get another -situation. I should have starved, Allen, and was starving in -London when your father came like an angel of light and--married me."</p> - -<p>"Married you? Did he love you?"</p> - -<p>"No, he loved Lady Jane, but she married Mr. Strode. But your father -was so angered at what he considered an unjust charge being made -against me, that he risked his father's wrath and made me his wife."</p> - -<p>"It was noble of him," said Allen, "but----"</p> - -<p>"It was the act of a saint!" cried Mrs. Hill, rising. "His father -cut him off with a shilling for what he did. I was penniless, -deserted, alone. I would have died but for Lawrence. He came--I -did not love him, nor he me, but I respect him for having saved a -broken-hearted woman from a doom worse than death. Allen, Allen, -can I ever repay your father for his noble act? Can you wonder -that I tolerate his whims--that I let him do what he likes? He -saved me--he surrendered all for me."</p> - -<p>"He did act well," admitted Allen, puzzled to think that his -whimsical, frivolous father should act so nobly, "but you made him -happy, mother. There is something to be said on your side."</p> - -<p>"Nothing! nothing!" cried Mrs. Hill with the martyr instinct of a -noble woman; "he gave up all for me. His father relented after a -time, and he inherited a fortune, but for a year we almost starved -together. He married me when I was under a cloud. I can never repay -him; never, never, I tell you, Allen," she said, facing him with -clenched fists, "if I thought that he committed this crime, I would -take the blame on myself rather than let him suffer. He saved me. -Shall I not save him?"</p> - -<p>"Was the person who stole the necklace ever discovered, mother?"</p> - -<p>"No, the necklace vanished and has never been found to this day. -I met Lady Jane Strode when she came here. She did not believe me -to be guilty, and we were good friends. So you see, Allen, it is -small wonder that I let your father do what he likes. Why should -I cross the desires of a man who behaved so nobly? Sometimes I do -interfere, as you know, for at times Harold needs guidance--but -only rarely."</p> - -<p>"Well, mother, I understand now, and can say nothing. But as to -how the revolver came to the Red Deeps----"</p> - -<p>"Your father shall explain," said Mrs. Hill, moving to the door; "come -with me."</p> - -<p>The two went to the room at the back of the house where Hill had lain -down. It was one of the Greek apartments where the little man -sometimes took his siesta. But the graceful couch upon which Allen had -left him lying an hour previous was empty, and the window was open on -to the Roman colonnade. There was no sign of Mr. Hill.</p> - -<p>"He must have gone into the garden," said the wife, and stepped out.</p> - -<p>But there was no sign of him there. The gardener was working in the -distance, and Mrs. Hill asked him where his master was.</p> - -<p>"Gone to London, ma'am," was the unexpected answer; "Jacobs drove him -to the Westhaven Station."</p> - -<p>Allen and his mother looked at one another with dread in their eyes. -This sudden departure was ominous in the extreme.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XI</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">ALLEN AS A DETECTIVE</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Hill left no message behind him with the groom. Jacobs -returned and said that his master had gone to London; he did not -state when he would return. Allen and his mother were much -perplexed by this disappearance. It looked very much like a flight -from justice, but Mrs. Hill could not be persuaded to think ill of the -man to whom she owed so much. Like many women she took too humble -an attitude on account of the obligation she had incurred. Yet -Mrs. Hill was not humble by nature.</p> - -<p>"What will you do now, Allen?" she asked the next morning.</p> - -<p>"I intend to learn why Cain sent that parcel to my father. If he can -explain I may find out why my father is afraid."</p> - -<p>"I don't think he is afraid," insisted Mrs. Hill, much troubled.</p> - -<p>"It looks very like it," commented her son; "however, you had -better tell the servants that father has gone to London on -business. I expect he will come back. He can't stop away -indefinitely."</p> - -<p>"Of course he'll come back and explain everything. Allen, your -father is whimsical--I always admitted that, but he has a heart -of gold. All that is strange in his conduct he will explain on his -return."</p> - -<p>"Even why he took my revolver to the Red Deeps?" said Allen grimly.</p> - -<p>"Whatever he took it for, it was for no ill purpose," said Mrs. Hill. -"Perhaps he made an appointment to see Strode there. If so I don't -wonder, he went armed, for Strode was quite the kind of man who would -murder him."</p> - -<p>"In that case Mr. Strode has fallen into his own trap. However, I'll -see what I can do."</p> - -<p>"Be careful, Allen. Your father's good name must not suffer."</p> - -<p>"That is why I am undertaking the investigation," replied the young -man, rising. "Well, mother, I am going to see Mrs. Merry and ask where -Cain is to be found. The circus may have left Colchester."</p> - -<p>"You might take the brown paper that was round the box," suggested -Mrs. Hill. "Mrs. Merry may be able to say if the address is in her -son's writing."</p> - -<p>"I don't think it is--the hand is a most illiterate one. Cain knows -how to write better. I have seen his letters to Eva."</p> - -<p>"What!" cried Mrs. Hill, scandalised, "does she let a lad in that -position write to her?"</p> - -<p>"Cain is Eva's foster-brother, mother," said Allen drily, "and she -is the only one who can manage him."</p> - -<p>"He's a bad lot like his father was before him," muttered Mrs. Hill, -and then went to explain to the servants that Mr. Hill would be -absent for a few days.</p> - -<p>Allen walked to Misery Castle, and arrived there just before midday. -For some time he had been strolling on the common wondering how to -conduct his campaign. He was new to the detective business and did -not very well know how to proceed. At first he had been inclined to -seek professional assistance; but on second thoughts he decided to -take no one into his confidence for the present. He dreaded what he -might learn concerning his father's connection with the crime, as -he by no means shared his mother's good opinion of Mr. Hill. Allen -and his father had never got on well together, as their natures -were diametrically opposed to each other. Allen had the steady good -sense of his mother, while the father was airy and light and -exasperatingly frivolous. Had not Mrs. Hill thought herself bound, -out of gratitude, to live with the man who had done so much for -her, and because of her son Allen, she certainly would not have put -up with such a trying husband for so many years. Allen was always -impatient of his father's ways; and absence only confirmed him in -the view he took of his evergreen sire. He could scarcely believe -that the man was his father, and always felt relieved when out of -his presence. However, he determined to do his best to get to the -bottom of the matter. He could not believe that Mr. Hill had fired -the fatal shot, but fancied the little man had some knowledge of -who had done so. And whether he was an accessory before or after -the fact was equally unpleasant.</p> - -<p>On arriving at Mrs. Merry's abode he was greeted by that good lady -with the news that Eva had gone to spend the day with Mrs. Palmer. -"To get used to her, as you might say," said Mrs. Merry. "Oh, Mr. -Allen, dear," she spoke with the tears streaming down her withered -face, "oh, whatever shall I do without my deary?"</p> - -<p>"You'll see her often," said Allen soothingly.</p> - -<p>"It won't be the same," moaned Mrs. Merry. "It's like marrying a -daughter, not that I've got one, thank heaven--it's never the same."</p> - -<p>"Well--well--don't cry, there's a good soul. I have come to see you -about Cain."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry gave a screech. "He's in gaol! I see it in your eyes! -Oh, well I knew he'd get there!"</p> - -<p>"He hasn't got there yet," said the young man impatiently; "come -into the drawing-room. I can explain."</p> - -<p>"Is it murder or poaching or burglary?" asked Mrs. Merry, still bent -on believing Cain was in trouble, "or horse-stealing, seeing he's in a -circus?"</p> - -<p>"It's none of the three," said Allen, sitting down and taking the -brown paper wrapping out of his pocket. "Jane Wasp saw him in -Colchester, and he's quite well."</p> - -<p>"And what's she been calling on my son there, I'd like to know?" asked -Mrs. Merry, bridling. "He shan't marry her, though he says he loves -her, which I don't believe. To be united with that meddlesome Wasp -policeman. No, Mr. Allen, never, whatever you may say."</p> - -<p>"You can settle that yourself. All I wish to know is this," he spread -out the paper. "Do you know whose writing this is?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry, rather surprised, bent over the paper, and began to spell -out the address with one finger. "Lawrence Hill," she said, "ah, they -used to call your father that in the old days. I never hear him called -so now."</p> - -<p>"Never mind. What of the writing?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry looked at it at a distance, held it close to her nose, -and then tilted it sideways. All the time her face grew paler and -paler. Then she took an envelope out of her pocket and glanced from -the brown paper to the address. Suddenly she gave a cry, and threw -her apron over her head. "Oh, Giles--Giles--whatever have you bin up -to!"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked Allen, feeling inclined to shake her.</p> - -<p>"It's Giles's writing," sobbed Mrs. Merry, still invisible; -"whatever you may say, it's his own writing, he never having been -to school and writing pothooks and hangers awful." She tore the -apron from her face and pointed, "Look at this Lawrence, and at -this, my name on the envelope. He wrote, saying he's coming here to -worry me, and I expect he's sent to your pa saying the same. They -was thick in the old days, the wicked old days," said Mrs. Merry -with emphasis, "I mean your pa and him as is dead and my brute of a -Giles."</p> - -<p>"So Giles Merry wrote this?" said Allen thoughtfully, looking at -the brown paper writing. "I wonder if the cross is a sign between my -father and him, which has called my father to London?"</p> - -<p>"Have you seen Giles, sir?" asked Mrs. Merry dolefully, "if so, tell -him I'll bolt and bar the house and have a gun ready. I won't be -struck and bullied and badgered out of my own home."</p> - -<p>"I haven't seen your husband," explained Allen, rising, "this -parcel was sent to my father by your son through Jane Wasp." -Mrs. Merry gave another cry. "He's got hold of Cain--oh, and Cain said -he hadn't set eyes on him. He's ruined!" Mrs. Merry flopped into a -chair. "My son's ruined--oh, and he was my pride! But that wicked -father of his would make Heaven the other place, he would."</p> - -<p>"I suppose Cain must have got the parcel from his father?" said Allen.</p> - -<p>"He must have. It's in Giles's writing. What was in the parcel, -sir?"</p> - -<p>"A cross made of two sticks tied with a piece of grass. Do you -know what that means?"</p> - -<p>"No, I don't, but if it comes from Giles Merry, it means some -wicked thing, you may be sure, Mr. Allen, whatever you may say."</p> - -<p>"Well, my father was much upset when he got this parcel and he has -gone to London."</p> - -<p>"To see Giles?" asked Mrs. Merry.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. The parcel came from Colchester."</p> - -<p>"Then Giles is there, and with my poor boy," cried Mrs. Merry, -trembling. "Oh, when will my cup of misery be full? I always -expected this."</p> - -<p>"Don't be foolish, Mrs. Merry. If your husband comes you can show him -the door."</p> - -<p>"He'd show me his boot," retorted Mrs. Merry. "I've a good -mind to sell up, and clear out. If 'twasn't for Miss Eva, I -would. And there, I've had to part from her on account of Giles. -If he came and made the house, what he do make it, which is the -pit of Tophet, a nice thing it would be for Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>"I'll break his head if he worries Eva," said Allen grimly; "I've -dealt before with that sort of ruffian. But I want you to tell me -where Cain is to be heard of. I expect the circus has left -Colchester by this time."</p> - -<p>"Cain never writes to me, he being a bad boy," wailed Mrs. Merry, -"an' now as his father's got hold of him he'll be worse nor ever. -But you can see in the papers where the playactors go, sir."</p> - -<p>"To be sure," said Allen, "how stupid I am. Well, good-day, Mrs. -Merry, and don't tell Miss Eva anything of this."</p> - -<p>"Not if I was tortured into slices," said Mrs. Merry, walking to the -door with Allen, "ah, it's a queer world. I hope I'll go to my long -home soon, sir, and then I'll be where Merry will never come. You -may be sure they won't let him in."</p> - -<p>This view of the case appeared to afford Mrs. Merry much -satisfaction, and she chuckled as Allen walked away. He went along -the road wondering at the situation. His father was not a good -husband to his mother--at least Allen did not think so. Giles -was a brute to his wife, and the late Mr. Strode from all accounts -had been a neglectful spouse. "And they were all three boon -companions," said Allen to himself; "I wonder what I'll find out -about the three? Perhaps Giles has a hand in the death of Strode. At -all events the death has been caused by some trouble of the past. God -forgive me for doubting my father, but I dread to think of what I -may learn if I go on with the case. But for my mother's sake I -<i>must</i> go on."</p> - -<p>Allen now directed his steps to Wasp's abode, as he knew at this hour -the little policeman would be at home. It struck Allen that it would -be just as well to see the bullet which had pierced the heart of -Mr. Strode. If it was one from his own revolver--and Allen knew -the shape of its bullets well--there would be no doubt as to his -father's guilt. But Allen fancied, that from the feeble nature of -the wound on the arm, it was just the kind of shaky aim which would -be taken by a timid man like his father. Perhaps (this was Allen's -theory) the three companions of old met at the Red Deeps--Mr. Strode, -Giles, and his father. Mr. Hill, in a fit of rage, might have fired -the shot which ripped the arm, but Giles must have been the one who -shot Strode through the heart. Of course Allen had no grounds to -think in this way, and it all depended on the sight of the bullet in -the possession of Wasp as to the truth of the theory. Allen intended -to get Wasp out of the room on some pretext and then fit the bullet -into his weapon. He had it in his pocket for the purpose. This was -the only way in which he could think of solving the question as to -his father's guilt or innocence.</p> - -<p>Wasp was at home partaking of a substantial dinner. Some of the -children sat round, and Mrs. Wasp, a grenadier of a woman, was at the -head of the table. But three children sat out with weekly journals on -their laps, and paper and pencil in hand. They all three looked -worried. After greeting Allen, Wasp explained.</p> - -<p>"There's a prize for guessing the names of European capitals," he -said; "it's given in the <i>Weekly Star</i>., and I've set them to work to -win the prize. They're working at it now, and don't get food till -each gets at least two capitals. They must earn money somehow, sir."</p> - -<p>"And they've been all the morning without getting one, sir," -said Mrs. Wasp plaintively. Apparently her heart yearned over -her three children, who looked very hungry. "Don't you think they -might eat now in honour of the gentleman's visit?"</p> - -<p>"Silence," cried Wasp, "sit down. No talking in the ranks. -Wellington, Kitchener, and Boadicea"--these were the names of the -unhappy children--"must do their duty. Named after generals, sir," -added Wasp with pride.</p> - -<p>"Was Boadicea a general?" asked Allen, sorry for the unfortunate trio, -who were very eagerly searching for the capitals in a school atlas.</p> - -<p>"A very good one for a woman, sir, as I'm informed by Marlborough, -my eldest, sir, as is at a board school. Boadicea, if you don't -know the capital of Bulgaria you get no dinner."</p> - -<p>Boadicea whimpered, and Allen went over to the three, his kind heart -aching for their hungry looks. "Sofia is the capital. Put it down."</p> - -<p>"Right, sir," said Wasp in a military fashion, "put down Sofia."</p> - -<p>"What capital are you trying to find, Wellington?" asked Allen.</p> - -<p>"Spain, sir, and Kitchener is looking for Victoria."</p> - -<p>"The Australian country, sir, not Her late Majesty," said Wasp -smartly.</p> - -<p>"Madrid is the capital of Spain, and Melbourne that of Victoria."</p> - -<p>The children put these down hastily and simply leaped for the table.</p> - -<p>"Silence," cried the policeman, horrified at this hurry; "say grace."</p> - -<p>The three stood up and recited grace like a drill sergeant shouting -the standing orders for the day. Shortly, their jaws were at work. -Wasp surveyed the family grimly, saw they were orderly, and then -turned to his visitor.</p> - -<p>"Now, Mr. Allen, sir, I am at your disposal. Come into the -parlour."</p> - -<p>He led the way with a military step, and chuckles broke out amongst -the family relieved of his presence. When in the small room and the -door closed, Allen came artfully to the subject of his call. It -would not do to let Wasp suspect his errand. Certainly the -policeman had overcome his suspicion that Allen was concerned in -the matter, but a pointed request for the bullet might reawaken -them. Wasp was one of those hasty people who jump to conclusions, -unsupported by facts.</p> - -<p>"Wasp," said Allen, sitting down under a portrait of Lord Roberts, -"Miss Strode and myself are engaged, as you know."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir." Wasp standing stiffly saluted. "I give you joy."</p> - -<p>"Thank you. We have been talking over the death of her father, -and she is anxious to learn who killed him."</p> - -<p>"Natural enough," said the policeman, scratching his chin, "but it is -not easy to do that, especially"--Wasp looked sly--"as there is no -reward."</p> - -<p>"Miss Strode is not in a position to offer a reward," replied -Allen, "so, for her sake, I am undertaking the search. I may want -your assistance, Wasp, and I am prepared to pay you for the same. -I am not rich, but if ten pounds would be of any use----"</p> - -<p>"If you'd a family of ten, sir, you'd know as it would," said -Wasp, looking gratified. "I'm not a haggler, Mr. Allen, but with bread -so dear, and my children being large eaters, I'm willing to give you -information for twenty pounds."</p> - -<p>"I can't afford that," said Allen decidedly.</p> - -<p>"I can tell you something about Butsey," said Wasp eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Ten pounds will pay you for your trouble," replied Allen, "and -remember, Wasp, if you don't accept the offer and find the culprit -on your own, there will be no money coming from the Government."</p> - -<p>"There will be promotion, though, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, drawing -himself up, "and that means a larger salary. Let us say fifteen."</p> - -<p>"Very good, though you drive a hard bargain. When the murderer is -laid by the heels I'll pay you fifteen pounds. No, Wasp," he added, -seeing what the policeman was about to say, "I can't give you -anything on account. Well, is it a bargain?"</p> - -<p>"It must be, as you won't do otherwise," said Wasp ruefully. "What do -you want to know?"</p> - -<p>"Tell me about this boy."</p> - -<p>"Butsey?" Wasp produced a large note-book. "I went to Westhaven to -see if there was truth in that Sunday school business he told me -about when I met him. Mr. Allen, there's no Sunday school; but -there was a treat arranged for children from London."</p> - -<p>"Something of the Fresh Air Fund business?"</p> - -<p>"That's it, sir. This was a private business, from some folk as -do kindnesses in Whitechapel. A lot of children came down on -Wednesday----"</p> - -<p>Allen interrupted. "That was the day Mr. Strode came down?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, and on that night he was shot at the Red Deeps. Well, -sir, Butsey must have been with the ragged children as he looks -like that style of urchin. But I can't be sure of this. The -children slept at Westhaven and went back on Thursday night."</p> - -<p>"And Butsey saw Mrs. Merry in the morning of Thursday?"</p> - -<p>"He did, sir, and me later. Butsey I fancy didn't go back till -Saturday. But I can't be sure of this."</p> - -<p>"You don't seem to be sure of anything," said Allen tartly. -"Well, I can't say your information is worth much, Wasp."</p> - -<p>"Hold on, sir. I've got the address of the folk in Whitechapel -who brought the children down. If you look them up, they may know -something of Butsey."</p> - -<p>"True enough. Give me the address."</p> - -<p>Wasp consented, and wrote it out in a stiff military hand, while -Allen went on artfully, "Was any weapon found at the Red Deeps?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir," said Wasp, handing his visitor the address of the -Whitechapel Mission, which Allen put in his pocket-book. "I wish -the revolver had been found, then we'd see if the bullet fitted."</p> - -<p>"Only one bullet was found."</p> - -<p>"Only one, sir. Dr. Grace got it out of the body. It is the bullet -which caused the death, and I got Inspector Garrit to leave it with -me. Perhaps you'd like to see it, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't trouble," said Allen carelessly. "I can't say anything -about it, Wasp."</p> - -<p>"Being a gentleman as has travelled you might know something, Mr. -Allen," said Wasp, and went to a large tin box, which was inscribed -with his name and the number of his former regiment, in white -letters. From this he took out a packet, and opening it, -extracted a small twist of paper. Then he placed the bullet in -Allen's hand.</p> - -<p>"I should think it came from a Derringer," said Wasp.</p> - -<p>Allen's heart leaped, for his revolver was not a Derringer. He -turned the bullet in his hand carelessly. "It might," he said -with a shrug. "Pity the other bullet wasn't found."</p> - -<p>"The one as ripped the arm, sir? It's buried in some tree trunk, -I guess, Mr. Allen. But it would be the same size as this. Both -were fired from the same barrel. First shot missed, but the -second did the business. Hold on, sir, I've got a drawing of the -Red Deeps, and I'll show you where we found the corpse," and Wasp -left the room.</p> - -<p>Allen waited till the door was closed, then hastily took the -revolver from his breast-pocket. He tried the bullet, but it proved -to be much too large for the revolving barrel, and could not have -been fired therefrom. "Thank heaven," said Allen, with a sigh of -relief, "my father is innocent."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">LORD SALTARS</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Mrs. Palmer dwelt in a large and imposing house, some little -distance from the village, and standing back a considerable way -from the Shanton Road. It had a park of fifteen acres filled with -trees, smooth lawns, a straight avenue, imposing iron gates, and a -lodge, so that it was quite an impressive mansion. The building -itself was square, of two stories, painted white, and had many -windows with green shutters. It somewhat resembled an Italian -villa, and needed sunshine to bring out its good points; but in -wet weather it looked miserable and dreary. It was elevated on a -kind of mound, and a stone terrace ran round the front and the -side. At the back were large gardens and ranges of hot-houses. -Everything was kept as neat as a new pin, for Mrs. Palmer had many -servants. Being rich, she could afford to indulge her fancies, and -made full use of her money.</p> - -<p>"La, dear," said Mrs. Palmer, when Eva was settled with her as -companion, "what's the use of five thousand a year if you don't -make yourself comfortable? I was brought up in a shabby way, as -poor dead pa was a small--very small--chemist at Shanton. Palmer -had his shop in Westhaven and was also in a grubbing way of -business till people took to coming to Westhaven. Then property -rose in value, and Palmer made money. He used to call on pa and -commiserate with him about the dull trade in Shanton, where people -were never sick. He advised him to move to Westhaven, but pa, losing -heart after the death of ma, would not budge. Then Palmer proposed to -me, and though I was in love with Jimmy Eccles at the Bank, I thought -I'd marry money. Oh, dear me," sighed Mrs. Palmer looking very pretty -and placid, "so here I am a widow."</p> - -<p>"A happy widow," said Eva, smiling.</p> - -<p>"I don't deny that, dear. Though, to be sure, the death of poor pa, -and of Palmer, were blows. I was fond of both. Jimmy Eccles -wanted to marry me when Palmer went, but I sent him off with a flea -in his ears. It was only my money he wanted. Now he's married a -freckled-faced girl, whose pa is a draper."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you will marry again, Mrs. Palmer?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose I will, when I get the man to suit. But I do wish, Eva -dear, you would call me Constance. I'm sure you might, after being -three days in the house. Call me Constance, and I'll tell you -something which will please you."</p> - -<p>"What is it, Constance?"</p> - -<p>"There's a dear. I shan't tell you yet--it's a surprise, and perhaps -you may be angry with me. But some one is coming to dinner."</p> - -<p>"Allen?" asked Eva, her face lighting up.</p> - -<p>"No! He's in town. At least you told me so."</p> - -<p>Eva nodded. "Yes; he went up to town last week, after seeing -Wasp."</p> - -<p>"About that horrid murder?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Allen is trying to learn who killed my father."</p> - -<p>"It's very good of him," said the widow, fanning herself -vigorously, "and I'm sure I hope he'll find out. The man who shot -Mr. Strode should be hanged, or we won't sleep in our beds safe. -Why, Eva, you have no idea how I tremble here at nights. This is a -lonely house, and these holiday trippers might bring down burglars -amongst them."</p> - -<p>"I don't think you need fear, Constance. There have been no -burglars down here. Besides, you have a footman, and a coachman, -and a gardener. With three men you are quite safe."</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I hope so, dear. But one never knows. When do you expect Mr. -Hill back?"</p> - -<p>"In a few days. I don't know what he's doing. He refuses to tell -me anything until he finds some definite clue. But I have his -address, and can write to him when I want to."</p> - -<p>"His father is in town also--so Mrs. Hill told me."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mr. Hill went up before Allen. I believe he has gone to some -sale to buy ancient musical instruments."</p> - -<p>"Dear me," said Mrs. Palmer, "what rubbish that man does spend his -money on. What's the use of buying instruments you can't play on? -I dare say he'll try to, though, for Mr. Hill is the queerest man -I ever set eyes on."</p> - -<p>"He <i>is</i> strange," said Eva gravely. She did not wish to tell Mrs. -Palmer that she disliked the little man, for after all he was -Allen's father, and there was no need to say anything. "But Mr. -Hill is very clever."</p> - -<p>"So they say. But he worries me. He's always got some new idea in -his head. I think he changes a thousand times a day. Mrs. Merry -doesn't like him, but then she likes no one, not even me."</p> - -<p>"Poor nurse," said Eva sadly, "she has had an unhappy life."</p> - -<p>"I don't think you have had a bright one, dear; but you shall -have, if I can make it so. Are you sure you have everything you -want?"</p> - -<p>"Everything," said Eva affectionately; "you are more than kind, -Mrs.----"</p> - -<p>"<i>Constance!</i>" cried the pretty widow in a high key.</p> - -<p>"Constance, of course. But tell me your surprise."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Palmer began to fidget. "I don't know if you will be pleased, -after all, Eva. But if you don't like to meet him say you have a -headache, and I'll entertain him myself."</p> - -<p>"Who is it?" asked Eva, surprised at this speech.</p> - -<p>"Lord Saltars," said Mrs. Palmer in a very small voice, and not -daring to look at her companion.</p> - -<p>Miss Strode did not reply at once. She was ill-pleased that the man -should come to the house, because she did not wish to meet him. Her -mother's family had done nothing for her, and even when she lost -her father, Saltars, although in the neighbourhood, had not been -kind enough to call. Eva met him once, and, as she had told Mrs. -Palmer, did not like his free and easy manner. However, it was not -her place to object to Saltars coming. This was not her house, and -she was merely a paid companion. This being the case, she overcame -her momentary resentment and resolved to make the best of the -position. She did this the more especially as she knew that Mrs. -Palmer had only been actuated in inviting Saltars by her worship of -rank. "I shall be quite pleased to meet my cousin," said Eva.</p> - -<p>"I hope you are not annoyed, Eva."</p> - -<p>"I am not exactly pleased, but this is your house, and----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, please--please don't speak like that," cried the widow, "you -make me feel so cheap. And the fact is--I may as well confess -it--Lord Saltars, knowing you were with me, for I told my Shanton -friends and they told him, asked if I would invite him to dinner."</p> - -<p>"To meet me, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"I fancy so. But why don't you like him, Eva He's a very nice man."</p> - -<p>"Not the kind of man I care about," replied Eva, rising; -"however, Mrs. Palmer, I'll meet him. It's time to dress now." -She glanced at the clock. "At what time does he arrive?"</p> - -<p>"At seven. He's at Shanton."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Is the circus there again?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. It is paying a return visit. But I know you're angry with -me, dear--you call me Mrs. Palmer."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then, Constance," said Eva, and kissing the pouting widow -she escaped to her own room.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Palmer was kind and generous, and made her position more -pleasant than she expected. But Mrs. Palmer was also foolish in -many ways, particularly in her worship of rank. Because Lord Saltars -had a title she was willing to overlook his deficiencies, though he -was neither intellectual nor amusing. Eva really liked Mrs. -Palmer and felt indebted to her, but she wished the widow's good -taste had led her to refuse Saltars permission to call. But -there--as Mrs. Merry would say--Mrs. Palmer not being a gentlewoman -had no inherent good taste. But for her kind heart she would have -been intolerable. However, Eva hoped to improve her into something -better, by gentle means, though Constance with her loud tastes and -patent tuft-hunting was a difficult subject.</p> - -<p>As she was in mourning for her father, Eva dressed in the same -black gauze gown in which she had hoped to welcome him, but without -any touch of colour on this occasion. As she went down the stairs, -she hoped that Mrs. Palmer would be in the room to welcome her -noble visitor, so as to save the embarrassment of a <i>tête-à-tête</i>.. -But Mrs. Palmer was one of those women who never know the value of -time, and when Eva entered the drawing-room she found herself -greeted by a short, square-built jovial-looking man of forty. -Saltars was perfectly dressed and looked a gentleman, but his small -grey eyes, his red, clean-shaven face and remarkably closely -clipped hair did not, on the whole, make up a good-looking man. As -soon as he saw Eva, he strolled forward calmly and eyed her -critically.</p> - -<p>"How are you, Miss Strode?--or shall I say Cousin Eva?"</p> - -<p>"I think Miss Strode is sufficient," said Eva, seating herself. "I -am sorry Mrs. Palmer is not down yet."</p> - -<p>"By Jove, I'm not," said Saltars, taking possession of a near -chair. "I want to have a talk with you."</p> - -<p>"This is hardly the hour or the place."</p> - -<p>"Come now, Miss Strode--if you will insist on being so stiff--you -needn't be too hard on a chap. I know I should have called, and I -quite intended to do so, but I had reasons----"</p> - -<p>"I don't ask for your reasons, Lord Saltars."</p> - -<p>The man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We -don't seem to get on," he said at length, "yet I wish to be -friendly. See here, I want my mother to call and see you."</p> - -<p>"If Lady Ipsen calls, I shall be pleased."</p> - -<p>"In a society way, but you won't be heart-pleased."</p> - -<p>"No," said Eva, very decidedly; "how can you expect me to? Your -family has not treated me or my dead father well."</p> - -<p>"Your father----" Saltars clicked again and seemed on the point -of saying something uncomplimentary of the dead; but a gleam in -his companion's eye made him change his mind. "I know you've been -a bit neglected, and I'm very sorry it should be so," said he -bluntly. "I assure you that it was always my wish you should be -invited to stop with us in Buckinghamshire. And my father was in -favour of it too."</p> - -<p>"But Lady Ipsen wasn't," said Eva coolly; "don't trouble to -apologise, Lord Saltars, I should not have gone in any case."</p> - -<p>"No, by Jove, I can see that. You're as proud as a peacock--just -like the portrait of Lady Barbara Delham who lived in Queen -Anne's reign. And she was a Tartar."</p> - -<p>Eva began to smile. Saltars was amusing. She saw that he was -simply a thoughtless man, who lived for himself alone. He -apparently wished to be friendly, so as Eva had no real grudge -against him, she unbent.</p> - -<p>"I don't think we need quarrel," she said.</p> - -<p>"No, by Jove. But I shan't. Any quarrelling that is to be done -must be on your side. There's enough in our family as it is. You -should hear how my mother and the dowager Lady Ipsen fight: but then -the dowager is a dreadful old cat," he finished candidly.</p> - -<p>"I have never seen her."</p> - -<p>"You wouldn't forget her if you did. She's beaked like a parrot, and -talks like one. She and I don't hit it off. She's one of what they -call the old school, whatever that means, and she thinks I'm a low -person--like a groom. What do you think?"</p> - -<p>Lord Saltars was not unlike a groom in some ways, but his good nature -and candour amused Eva. "I am not a person to judge," she said, -smiling.</p> - -<p>"By Jove, you might have been, though," said he, fixing his small grey -eyes on her; "supposing you became Lady Saltars?"</p> - -<p>"There's not the slightest chance of that," said Eva coldly.</p> - -<p>"There isn't now: but there might have been. And after all, why not -now, if things are what your father said they were?"</p> - -<p>Miss Strode drew herself up. She thought he was going too far. "I -really don't know what you mean. I am engaged to be married."</p> - -<p>"I know; to a fellow called Hill. Your father told me."</p> - -<p>"Lord Saltars, did you meet my father after he came home?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I did. He called to see me when he came to London, and -corresponded with me long before that. I say, do you remember when I -came to see you at Wargrove?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. We did not get on well together."</p> - -<p>"By Jove, no more we did! That was a pity, because I came to see -what kind of a wife you'd make."</p> - -<p>"You're very kind," said Eva indignantly, "but I'm not on the -market to be examined like a horse."</p> - -<p>"Haw--haw," laughed the other, slapping his knee, "that's the kind of -thing the dowager would say. Don't get waxy, Eva--Miss Strode then, -though I wish you'd call me Herbert and I'd call you Eva."</p> - -<p>"I shall call you Lord Saltars."</p> - -<p>"Saltars without the confounded lord," urged the man pertinaciously.</p> - -<p>"No; go on. What were you saying? Yes, that you came to see what sort -of a wife I'd make. Who told you to?"</p> - -<p>"Your father."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it."</p> - -<p>"It's true, though. Your father wanted you to marry me. He kept -writing to me from South Africa to keep me up to the scratch, and -said he was gathering a fortune for us both. When he came home he -called on me and told me you had some folly in your head about this -chap Hill, and----"</p> - -<p>Eva rose indignantly, "Lord Saltars," she said calmly and -distinctly, "I don't allow any one to talk to me in this way. My -engagement to Mr. Allen Hill is not a folly. And I don't see why my -father should have talked to you about it."</p> - -<p>"Because he wanted me to marry you," said Saltars, rising and -following her to the fireplace.</p> - -<p>Eva placed one slippered foot on the fender, and an elbow on the -mantelpiece. She looked angry, but extremely pretty and well-bred. -Saltars adopted the same attitude opposite her and looked more like a -groom than ever. But the expression of his face was so good-natured -that Eva could not feel as angry as she ought to have done.</p> - -<p>"I should never have married you," she said, her colour deepening. "I -understand that you have other views."</p> - -<p>Saltars grew red in his turn. "It's that boy Cain's been talking," he -said; "I'll break his head."</p> - -<p>"That is for you and Cain to decide," said Miss Strode indifferently, -"but you can quite understand why I don't discuss these things."</p> - -<p>Saltars kicked the fender sulkily. "I wish you would be more -friendly, Eva," he said. "I need a friend, and so, by Jove, do you."</p> - -<p>"How can I befriend you?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm in love with Miss Lorry, and there will be a shine if -I marry her. She's perfectly straight and----"</p> - -<p>"I don't want to hear about her," said Eva angrily, "and if you were a -gentlemen you wouldn't talk to me of that sort of person."</p> - -<p>"She's a perfectly decent sort," said Saltars, angry in his turn, "I -intend to make her my wife."</p> - -<p>"That has nothing to do with me. And I wish you'd drop this -conversation, Lord Saltars. It doesn't interest me. I am quite willing -to be friends. Your manner is absurd, but you mean well. Come," and -she held out her hand.</p> - -<p>Saltars took it with a long breath. "Just like the dowager," said he, -"just as nippy. I'd like to see you have a turn up with old Lady -Ipsen."</p> - -<p>"Well, then," said Eva, "now we are friends and you promise not to -talk nonsense to me, tell me what you mean by my father making a -fortune for me."</p> - -<p>"For both of us, by Jove," said his lordship; "you were to be Lady -Saltars, and then we were to have forty thousand pounds."</p> - -<p>"But my father didn't leave me a penny," said Eva.</p> - -<p>"That's what I wish to see you about," said Saltars earnestly. "I -heard from Mrs. Palmer's friends that you were without money, and were -her companion, so I wrote asking to come to-night. I want to be your -friend and help you. You ought to have forty thousand pounds."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>"Because I saw your father twice before he was killed: within the -last six weeks. He told me that he had brought home forty thousand -pounds. Twice he told me that; but he did not say how it was -invested. I expect his lawyer, Mask, can tell you. He's my lawyer -too."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Mask told me that I inherited no money."</p> - -<p>"Yet your father saw him," said the perplexed Saltars.</p> - -<p>"I know he did; but he said nothing about forty thousand pounds. I -know that he told Mr. Mask he would place some money in his keeping, -without mentioning the amount, but he never did so."</p> - -<p>"Didn't you find the money in his portmanteau or box, or----?"</p> - -<p>"We found nothing; nor did we find any papers mentioning that such a -sum of money was in existence."</p> - -<p>"Then he must have been robbed of it, when dead."</p> - -<p>Eva shook her head. "Nothing was taken out of his pockets. His money, -his jewellery, his watch--nothing was taken."</p> - -<p>"Queer," said Saltars. "Did you find in his pockets a large blue -pocket-book with his crest on it, stamped in gold?"</p> - -<p>"No. When did you see that?"</p> - -<p>"When he was talking to me. I was hard up. I don't mind saying," -said Saltars frankly, "that I'm always hard up. As your father -looked upon me as his intended son-in-law, he gave me a pony, and -took the notes out of the blue pocket-book. He carried his money -there."</p> - -<p>"He would scarcely carry forty thousand pounds there."</p> - -<p>"No; but he might have carried a letter of credit for that -amount. Or at least he would have some memorandum of such a large -sum. If any notes were stolen with the pocket-book, you can trace -those by the numbers when the murderer presents them, and then -the beast will be caught. But the forty thousand----"</p> - -<p>"Stop--stop," said Eva, my head is in a whirl. "Are you sure?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly; I was to marry you, and then we were to get the money. -And I may tell you that your father said, more would come to us -when he died. Depend upon it, Eva, the murder was committed for -the sake of that money."</p> - -<p>"I wonder if my father meant diamonds?" said Eva.</p> - -<p>Saltars started. "By Jove, I shouldn't wonder," he said eagerly, -"he would bring diamonds from South Africa as the easiest way to -carry such a large sum. Perhaps he had the diamonds in his pocket -and they were stolen."</p> - -<p>"I must tell Allen this."</p> - -<p>"Who is Allen?--oh, young Hill! Don't deny it. I can see it in your -face, it's the lucky man. And by Jove he is. I don't see why I should -surrender you. Your father wished us to marry----"</p> - -<p>"You go too fast, Lord Saltars. Remember Miss Lorry."</p> - -<p>Saltars would have said something more but that the door opened and -Mrs. Palmer, fastening her glove, sailed in. "Not a word of the -diamonds to any one," said Eva hurriedly.</p> - -<p>"Not a word," said Saltars in a low voice, then raised it -gaily--"How are you, Mrs. Palmer? My cousin and I have been -talking"--he looked at Eva inquiringly, his invention failing -him--"About--about----"</p> - -<p>"Chinese metaphysics," said the feminine intellect.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">THE OTHER WOMAN</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Lord Saltars spent a very enjoyable evening in the company of two -pretty women. Eva had no chance of further conversation, as Mrs. -Palmer made the most of her noble guest. She sang to him, she -chattered to him, she did all that a lively woman could do to amuse -him. In fact, it seemed to Eva as though the widow was trying to -fascinate his lordship. Saltars, no fool, saw this also.</p> - -<p>"But it won't do," chuckled the guest, as he drove back to Shanton in -a smart dog-cart. "She's a pretty, saucy little woman that widow, and -has money, too, though not enough for me to marry her on. Then Eva's -worth a dozen of her, for looks and breeding. But then she's got no -money, and I can't afford to marry poverty. Of course that forty -thousand pounds might turn up, but on the other hand it might not. -Finally, there's Bell Lorry! Ugh!" his lordship shivered. "I'm not so -gone on her as I was; yet there's something infernally taking about -Bell. She's a fine woman--with a temper. But she's got no money, and -no birth, and precious little character, I should say. I'm not going -to marry her, though she thinks so. But it will be the deuce's own -job to get rid of her."</p> - -<p>Saltars argued this way until he arrived at Shanton. Then he -delivered the reins to his groom at the door of the Queen's Hotel, -where he was stopping, and rang the bell. It was after twelve -o'clock, and a fine starry night. But the chill in the air made -Saltars pull up the collar of his overcoat and grumble. He was -anxious for his bed and a glass of steaming grog. He got the last, -but he was prevented from getting to the first by reason of a -visitor. On ascending to his sitting-room he was met by a sleepy -waiter.</p> - -<p>"Your lordship," said this individual, "there's a lady waiting to see -your lordship in your lordship's room."</p> - -<p>"What, at this hour! It's not respectable."</p> - -<p>"So the landlady told her, your lordship, but she said that she would -do what she liked, and threatened to make a scene. Mrs. Cowper then -thought it would be best to let her stay. She's waiting upstairs--the -lady, I mean, your lordship--and is in a fine rage."</p> - -<p>"It sounds like Bell," thought Saltars, and dismissed the old waiter, -who went back to tell the night-porter he was going to bed. But the -night-porter persuaded him to remain up for a time.</p> - -<p>"There's going to be a row with that wench," said the night-porter; -"she's a circus-rider--Miss Lorry by name, and has a temper of her -own. I think she'll give it to his lordship hot. I wonder Mrs. Cowper -don't object to such goings on."</p> - -<p>So the two men, waiter and night-porter, remained below while -Saltars, fully aware from the description that his visitor was Miss -Lorry, entered the room prepared for a storm. The lady was seated in -a chair near the table, and was drinking champagne which she had -ordered at his expense. She was a fine-looking woman of mature -age, and was expensively dressed in blue silk. Her arms and neck -were bare, and she wore many jewels. As she was of the Junoesque -order of woman, she looked remarkably well. Her cheeks were -flushed, but whether from the champagne or from rage it was -impossible to say. Probably a mixture of both gave her the high -colour she wore, when she looked up to see Saltars enter.</p> - -<p>In spite of this description and of the lateness of the hour, and -of the lady's loud manner, it must not be thought that Miss Lorry -was anything but a thoroughly decent woman--if somewhat of a -Bohemian. She was known as an accomplished rider throughout the -length and breadth of the three kingdoms, and no one had a word to -say against her character. She was certainly fond of wine, but kept -her liking for that within due bounds, as a rule. She was also -kind-hearted, charitable, and generous. Many a man and woman -connected with the circus, and with the sawdust profession as a -whole, had cause to remember Miss Lorry's kind heart. Bohemian as -she was, the woman was really good and true and had many noble -instincts. Saltars might have done worse than marry her, in spite -of her birth, and profession, and years--for she certainly was -older than he was. But Saltars, with his shallow instincts, looked -on the outward beauty of Bell Lorry somewhat coarsened by age and -her hard life. He had not the penetration to see the real, true, -kindly, noble soul she possessed. And then it must be confessed -that Miss Lorry masked her many good qualities by indulging on the -least provocation in royal rages. When blind with passion, she was -capable of anything.</p> - -<p>"Oh," said she, tossing her head, "so you're back!"</p> - -<p>"Just so," replied Saltars, taking off his overcoat and tossing it -on to the sofa. "I didn't expect to find you here--it's after -twelve--really you should not, you know, for your own sake. People -will talk, and the landlady here is no angel."</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry snapped her fingers and drank some wine. "That for the -landlady," she said coolly, "so long as my conscience is clear, I'm -not afraid of what people say. And I couldn't go to bed without -seeing you. The circus leaves for Chelmsford tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"But you needn't go with it," said Saltars, lighting a cigarette. -"I daresay we can have a talk tomorrow before you go?"</p> - -<p>"We must have a talk to-night and an understanding too," snapped -the woman, her eyes blazing. "Look here, Lord Saltars, what do you -mean by going after that girl?"</p> - -<p>"What girl?" asked his lordship, taking a seat.</p> - -<p>"You know well enough. You've been over to Wargrove to dine with that -Mrs. Palmer, and Miss Strode is with her as a companion."</p> - -<p>"You seem to know all about it, Bell."</p> - -<p>"Don't call me Bell. I've never given you permission to call me -by my christian name. I always call you Lord Saltars and not -Herbert. You can't say a word against me."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to, but----"</p> - -<p>"I shan't listen to your remarks," said Miss Lorry in a rage; "you -think because I'm a circus-rider that I've got no pride and no -decency. But I'd have your lordship know that I'm a respectable -woman, and there's no mud can be thrown at me. You asked me to marry -you, and I said I would. Is that so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but----"</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue. If that is so, what right have you to go after that -girl? She's a nice girl and a decent girl, and a lady, which I am not. -All the same, you shan't spoil her life."</p> - -<p>Saltars raised his eyebrows. "I have no intention of spoiling her -life. She's my cousin, if you remember----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I know. But you're just the sort of man to make love to her, and -break her heart. And as you're engaged to marry me, I shan't have it. -So you look out, Mr. Herbert Delham, or Lord Saltars, or whatever you -call yourself."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't get in a rage over nothing, if I were you," said Saltars -coolly, "and I shouldn't drink more of that wine either. It only -excites you. Try this," he tossed her a cigarette, "it may calm your -nerves."</p> - -<p>"My nerves are my own to do what I like with. And if you had my -nerves you might talk. It isn't a nervous woman who can ride and -control a savage stallion like White Robin."</p> - -<p>"That horse will kill you some day," said Saltars; "he's got the -temper of a fiend."</p> - -<p>"So have I when roused, so don't you make me angry."</p> - -<p>"You're not very good-tempered now. Try the cigarette."</p> - -<p>"I'll smoke if you hand me one properly and light it for me. I do not -take things thrown to me as if I were a dog."</p> - -<p>Lord Saltars rose and produced another cigarette--the one he threw -was lying on the table. He offered this to Miss Lorry with a bow, -and then gravely lighted a match. In another minute the smoke was -curling from her full lips, and she calmed down. Saltars returned to -his seat and lighted a new roll of tobacco with the stump of his old -cigarette. "How did you know I went to Shanton to-night?"</p> - -<p>"Cain told me. Yes, and he told me about Miss Strode being Mrs. -Palmer's companion. He went to-day to see his mother, with whom Miss -Strode lived. She--the mother, I mean--knew that you were going to -Mrs. Palmer's to-night, as Mrs. Palmer told her."</p> - -<p>"I wonder Mrs. Palmer took the trouble," said Saltars coolly. "My -movements seem to interest her, and this Mrs. Merry and Cain. I'll -break that young man's head if he spies on me."</p> - -<p>"You'll have to reckon with Signor Antonio if you do, and, as he's the -Strong Man of our show, you'll get the worst of it."</p> - -<p>"Great strength doesn't usually mean science. And I think I can put -up my flippers with any man."</p> - -<p>"You're a brute," said Miss Lorry, with an admiring glance at Saltars' -sullen strength, which was what attracted her; "no one would take you -to be a nobleman."</p> - -<p>"As to Signor Antonio," went on Saltars, taking no notice of the -compliment, "he's not an Italian in spite of his dark looks and -broken English. He's a half-bred gipsy mumper, and a blackguard at -that. You seem to know him pretty well, Miss Lorry. I can't say I -admire your choice of acquaintances."</p> - -<p>"I know you," she retorted, "so you're the last person to talk. As -to Antonio, he's been with the show for years, and I'm always -friendly with fellow artistes. He's a brute, as you are: but he -daren't show his teeth to me."</p> - -<p>"He shows them to Cain often enough."</p> - -<p>"He's fond of the boy all the same, and he's the----" here Miss -Lorry checked herself; "well it doesn't matter. I didn't come here -to talk about Antonio. It's getting late, and I want to go to my -room. I'm lodging in the next house."</p> - -<p>"You should have left a message asking me to call."</p> - -<p>"I dare say, and you'd have come, wouldn't you?"</p> - -<p>"But here at this hour your reputation----"</p> - -<p>"Leave my reputation alone," cried Miss Lorry in a rage, "it's -better than yours. I'd like to see any one say a word again me. I'd -have the law of him or her--if you're thinking of that white-faced -cat the landlady. But see here, about Miss Strode----"</p> - -<p>"Don't say anything about Miss Strode. I called, as her cousin. -There's no chance of my marrying her."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Strode said otherwise."</p> - -<p>"You didn't know Strode," said Saltars, starting and looking puzzled.</p> - -<p>"Oh, didn't I though?" jeered Miss Lorry; "well, I just did. Six -years ago I knew him. He came to the circus, behind the scenes, I -mean, to see Signor Antonio. He spotted Antonio performing in the -ring and recognised an old friend. So he called after the -performance and was introduced to me. I knew him again when he came -to the circus when we were near London. He came to see you then."</p> - -<p>"I know he did. Strode called at my digs and found from my man -that I'd gone to the circus. As he wished to see me before he went -to Wargrove, he followed me to the show. But I didn't know you -spoke to him, or even knew him."</p> - -<p>"He came to see me on his own," said Miss Lorry, frowning, "when you -were talking to Stag. We had a conversation, and he said you were -going to marry Miss Strode----"</p> - -<p>"Well, I wasn't engaged to you then."</p> - -<p>"You're not engaged now unless I choose to," said the woman coolly, -"but you were making love to me, and I told Mr. Strode that I had a -claim on you. He lost his temper and said you had promised to marry -his daughter."</p> - -<p>"If I had, I would hardly have proposed to you," said Saltars -diplomatically.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't know. You do exactly what suits you. And if Mr. Strode -had lived he might have induced you to throw me over and marry Miss -Strode. But he's dead, whosoever killed him, poor man, and you're -engaged to me. Do you intend to marry me or not?"</p> - -<p>"Well I want to, but there's no money."</p> - -<p>"How do you know there's no money? I've got my savings. Yes, you may -look; but I'm no spendthrift. I have enough invested to bring me in -five hundred a year, and many a year I've worked to get the money -together. We can live on that and with what your father will allow -you."</p> - -<p>"My father won't allow me a penny if I marry you."</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry rose calmly. "Very good. If you're going to take that -line, let us part. I shan't see you again after to-night."</p> - -<p>But Saltars was not going to let her go so easily. He really loved -this woman, while his liking for Eva was only a passing fancy begotten -of her dead father's schemes. Often, when away from Miss Lorry did he -curse himself for a fool, and decide to break his chains, but when in -her presence the magnetism of the woman asserted itself. Her bold, -free, fiery spirit appealed to Saltars greatly: also she was a -splendid horsewoman and could talk wisely about the stables. Saltars -loved horses more than anything in life save this woman, and her -conversation was always within his comprehension. Moreover, during all -the time of their courting she had never allowed him to even kiss her, -always asserting that she was a respectable woman. Consequently as the -fruit was dangling just out of Saltars' reach and only to be obtained -by marriage, he was the more anxious to pluck it. Finally, Bell was -really a magnificent-looking woman in a bold way, and this also -appealed to the susceptible nature of Saltars.</p> - -<p>"Don't go, Bell," he said, catching her dress as she moved to the -door. Whereat she turned on him.</p> - -<p>"Leave me alone, Lord Saltars, and call me Miss Lorry. I won't have -you take liberties. Either you love me and will marry me openly in a -decent church, or we part. I'm not going to have mud thrown on my good -name for you or any one."</p> - -<p>"You know that I love you----"</p> - -<p>"I know nothing of the sort. If you did, you'd not go after your -cousin; not that I've a word to say against her, though she did -treat me like dirt when we spoke at Wargrove."</p> - -<p>"I only went to see my cousin about the money left by her father."</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry turned and leaned against the wall near the door. "There -was no money left," she said sharply. "Mrs. Merry told Cain, and he -told me. The poor girl has to go out as a companion."</p> - -<p>"I know. But there is money. Strode told me that he would give her and -me forty thousand pounds if we married."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then," said Miss Lorry, her eyes flashing; "why don't you -go and marry her? I won't stop you."</p> - -<p>"Because, in the first place, I love you; in the second, she has not -got the money and don't know where it is; and in the third, she is -engaged to a fellow called Hill."</p> - -<p>"Allen Hill?" said Miss Lorry; "yes, I remember him. He told me he -was engaged when we spoke at the gate of the cottage. A nice young -fellow and quite the man. I love a man," said Miss Lorry admiringly, -"and that chap has a man's eye in his head, I can tell you."</p> - -<p>"What about me?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you're a man right enough, or I shouldn't have taken up with you. -But I say, if Miss Strode's engaged to Hill why doesn't she marry him -now that the father's dead and there's no obstacle?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know why the marriage doesn't take place," said Saltars -pondering, "but I think it is because there's no money."</p> - -<p>"There's the forty thousand pounds."</p> - -<p>"That can't be found, and there's no memorandum amongst the papers of -Strode likely to say where it is. I expect he brought the money home -from Africa in the form of diamonds, and hid them somewhere."</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry changed colour. "Oh," she said thoughtfully, and then went -on rapidly, "If this forty thousand pounds comes to Miss Strode, I -suppose she'd marry Hill."</p> - -<p>"Rather. She seems very fond of him."</p> - -<p>"He's worth being fond of! he's a man I tell you, Saltars. Humph! I -wonder if the money can be found?"</p> - -<p>"There doesn't seem to be much chance."</p> - -<p>"Do you think the money is locked up in diamonds?"</p> - -<p>"It might be. As no money was found, Strode might have brought home -his fortune in that form."</p> - -<p>"I read the papers about the inquest," said Miss Lorry, staring at the -ground; "what about that lawyer?"</p> - -<p>"Mask? Oh, he knows nothing. He said so at the inquest."</p> - -<p>"I wonder if the wooden hand has anything to do with the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Well," said Saltars, rising and yawning, "it was certainly stolen, -so it would seem it had a value. Of course if the hand was sent to -Mask it was to be a sign that he had to give up any money he might -have. It might have been stolen for that purpose."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and the man might have been murdered to obtain possession of -it."</p> - -<p>"I don't think so. If Strode had been murdered on that account, the -hand would have been stolen when the body was lying in the Red Deeps."</p> - -<p>"It was stolen when it lay in the cottage," said Miss Lorry, "I -remember. And Mask said that he had no money of Strode's, so -there's not much use of the hand being sent to him. It's all very -queer."</p> - -<p>"Do you intend to try and unravel the mystery of the death?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? I'd like that girl married to Hill and out of my way. I -don't intend to let her marry you. So good-night," and Miss Lorry -marched off without a word more.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIV</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">SIGNOR ANTONIO</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Cain Merry was a particular pet of Miss Lorry's, and the lad felt -grateful to her for the attention. He admired her exceedingly, and at -one time had fancied himself in love with her. But Miss Lorry, -experienced in admirers, laughed at him the moment she descried the -early symptoms, and told him she was old enough to be his mother. It -was creditable to Cain that he took the hint thus given, and devoted -himself to Jane Wasp, with whom he had been in love ever since they -attended the same board school. And after his passing fancy for Miss -Lorry, the lad's love for the policeman's daughter became even more -marked, much to the joy of Jane, who adored the dark-eyed scamp, and -lost no opportunity of meeting him.</p> - -<p>But Cain was such a Bohemian, that this was no easy matter. Owing to -the nagging of his mother, he stayed away from Misery Castle as much -as he could, and got jobs in the surrounding country and in London. -Also there was some influence at work on Cain's character, which Jane -could not understand: something that made him moody and inclined him -to despair. In her simple way Jane tried to learn what it was, that -she might comfort him, but Cain always baffled her.</p> - -<p>On the morning after Miss Lorry's interview with Saltars, the lad was -more dismal than usual, and was rather listless in his work. As the -circus was packing up to move on to Chelmsford, there was little time -to be lost, and Cain came in for many a hard word. At length the -manager became exasperated at his indolence, and sent him off with a -message to Miss Lorry, who had rooms near the Queen's Hotel. Nothing -loath to be relieved from moving heavy beams, and taking down the -large tent, Cain set off in better spirits.</p> - -<p>On passing through the market place about ten o'clock he saw Jane, -perched on a light market cart, and ran towards her with a bright -face. The girl received him with a joyful cry, and explained that she -had been looking for him for the past hour.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Whiffles drove me over," she explained, getting down to speak -more freely; "she keeps the Wargrove inn, you know----"</p> - -<p>"Of course I know," said Cain quickly; "I'm Wargrove as well as you, -Jane. But how did your father let you go. I thought he was keeping you -in, to help your mother."</p> - -<p>"Ah, he does that," said Jane with a sigh; "father's a hard one, -Cain, and hates you like poison. You see he's all for the law, -and you----"</p> - -<p>"And I'm a vagabond, as my mother says. Well, Jane, don't you -fret, I'm getting a higher law than that your father serves. I'll -tell you about it some day. How did you come over?"</p> - -<p>"I told you. I came with Mrs. Whiffles. Mother wanted some things -here, and as Mrs. Whiffles was going, she thought I might come too. I -shan't tell father anything, nor will mother. He's out till two, and -we must be back before then. But mother wouldn't have let me come had -she known the circus was here, Cain. She says I'm not to think of you -at all. I'm to go out to service."</p> - -<p>"We may marry before you do that," said Cain quickly; "how did you -know the circus was here?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Hill's groom Jacobs told me."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Cain frowned. "You're too thick with that Harry Jacobs."</p> - -<p>"I've known him all my life, Cain."</p> - -<p>"So have I, and I don't like him. He thinks he's every one, because he -wears a smart livery. I wear just as smart a one in the circus."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but the circus ain't decent, Cain. I could never marry you if -you kept on there. I couldn't go about as you do, and if you're to be -my husband I'd like to be near you."</p> - -<p>"You shall be near me, and we'll marry to take service in something -better than a circus," said Cain, his face lighting up.</p> - -<p>"What's that?"</p> - -<p>Cain drew near and was about to speak, when his ear was suddenly -seized by a large dark man, who frowned. "Why aren't you seeing Miss -Lorry, you young scamp?" said the stranger. "I've got to do your -business. Mr. Stag asked you particularly to give that note. Hand it -over."</p> - -<p>"I'll take it now," said Cain, getting free; "leave my ear alone."</p> - -<p>"You give the note to me, Cain. Who is this?" and he looked at Jane.</p> - -<p>"She's a friend of mine from Wargrove," said Cain sulkily; "get back -into the cart, Jane."</p> - -<p>"From Wargrove?" said the dark man with a queer smile; "and her name?"</p> - -<p>"I'm Jane Wasp, sir," said the girl, looking into the man's somewhat -brutal face.</p> - -<p>The man laughed. "Policeman Wasp's daughter, as I'm a sinner. How's -your fool of a father? Catching every one he shouldn't catch, I -suppose? He was always too clever."</p> - -<p>Cain interposed. "Leave her alone fa----, I mean Signor -Antonio," he said, "she's going home."</p> - -<p>Signor Antonio turned on him with a snarl. "Hold your tongue, you -whelp," he said, "I'll talk to whom I like and as long as I like. I -want to know what Policeman Wasp's doing now?"</p> - -<p>"He's looking after the murderer of Mr. Strode," said Jane -politely.</p> - -<p>The man started and laughed. "I hope he'll catch him: but it's a -business rather beyond his powers, I fancy. Stop, you're the girl -who delivered the package to Mr. Hill."</p> - -<p>"To young Mr. Hill," said Jane, climbing into Mrs. Whiffles cart, "not -to the father."</p> - -<p>Signor Antonio turned on the boy with a frown. "I told you it was to -be given to Mr. Hill himself."</p> - -<p>"Well, he got it right enough," said Cain impatiently. "I gave it to -Jane at Colchester, and she took it to Mr. Allen, who gave it to his -father."</p> - -<p>"And what happened?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Jane. "I didn't see Mr. Hill get it."</p> - -<p>"You fool," cried Antonio turning on Cain with another snarl. "I -wanted the girl to report how Hill looked when he opened the -package, and now----"</p> - -<p>"Jane's got nothing to do with this business," said Cain resolutely, -"and I won't have her mixed up in your affairs."</p> - -<p>"Do you know who I am?" demanded the man, black with anger.</p> - -<p>"Yes," replied the boy with a queer look; "you're Signor Antonio."</p> - -<p>Jane thought she would interfere as there seemed to be a chance of a -quarrel. "Mr. Hill went to London after he got the parcel."</p> - -<p>"On the same day?" asked the man eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. Jacobs, who drives him, told me he went within two hours -after he opened the parcel. He's gone up to attend a sale----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," sneered Signor Antonio, "so he's gone to attend a sale? Very -good, that's all right. The parcel was a notice about a sale----"</p> - -<p>"Of musical instruments, I know, sir. Jacobs told me."</p> - -<p>"You speak too much to Jacobs," cried Cain; "remember you're engaged -to marry me, Jane."</p> - -<p>"Stuff and nonsense," said Signor Antonio, who in spite of his Italian -name and looks did not speak his own language; "you'll not marry the -girl."</p> - -<p>"But I shall," said Cain, setting his teeth; "mind your own business."</p> - -<p>"This <i>is</i> my business, you brat----"</p> - -<p>"Jane," said Cain pointing to the hotel, "yonder is Mrs. Whiffles -waving to you. Drive over. I'll send you my address, and you can -write to me. Goodbye, dear."</p> - -<p>He would have climbed on the cart and kissed her, but that the -so-called Italian drew him back. Jane, rather started and puzzled by -the dominion this stranger seemed to exercise over Cain, drove hastily -away to the curb where fat Mrs. Whiffles stood waving her fat arms. -She looked back to see Cain and Antonio in fierce conversation, and -dreaded a quarrel.</p> - -<p>And indeed there would have been a quarrel but for the boy's -self-possession. Cain appeared to have far more command of his -temper than the older man, and spoke quietly enough. "See here," he -said, "I won't have you interfering with my affairs."</p> - -<p>"Do you know who I am?" demanded Antonio again.</p> - -<p>"You asked me that before and in public," said Cain, "and I told you, -you were Signor Antonio. But you know well enough what you are and so -do I."</p> - -<p>"And what am I?" jeered Antonio.</p> - -<p>"You're the man that deserted his wife and child, and your name is -Giles Merry."</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is, and don't you talk of deserting, you brat. I'm your -father, so you look out. I'll thrash you."</p> - -<p>"Oh no, you won't," said Cain boldly, "I'm quite equal to standing up -to you, father. Leave my business alone, I've put up with you ever -since we met a year ago, and I did what you wanted because you -promised me not to go near my mother. I learn that you have written -that you intend to call on her."</p> - -<p>"What if I do? She's my wife as you're my son. She's got a house over -her head, and money, and I've got a right to share both."</p> - -<p>"No, you haven't," said Cain sharply, "you're no father of mine, as -you deserted me and mother when we were poor. Now that we've got -money, you'd come and make mother miserable. I kept my part of the -bargain, so you keep to yours. If you write mother again or go near -her, I'll make things hot."</p> - -<p>Antonio made a dash at the boy--they were now in a quiet side -street--and gasped with rage. "You unnatural young cuckoo----"</p> - -<p>"Leave me alone, father, or I'll sing out for the police."</p> - -<p>"What!" Antonio, finding force would not do, began to whine, "you'd -run in your poor old father?"</p> - -<p>"I don't want to," said Cain, "but if you force me to, I must. All I -ask is for you to keep away from mother, and leave me alone. If you -don't, I'll tell Wasp something he may like to hear."</p> - -<p>The older man turned pale through his swarthy skin. "What will you -tell him?" he asked in a thick voice.</p> - -<p>"Never you mind. But I know you saw Mr. Strode when he came to the -circus that night after Lord Saltars. Then there's Butsey----"</p> - -<p>"What about Butsey?" asked the father uneasily, and glaring.</p> - -<p>"Nothing. Only he's a bad lot. I'm no great shakes myself," -admitted Cain sadly, "but I'm beginning to see how wicked I am. If I -was as bad as Butsey, father, I'd not treat you like this. You sent -Butsey with a lying message to mother----"</p> - -<p>"I wanted to know how she looked."</p> - -<p>"No, you didn't. I believe you sent Butsey to steal that wooden hand."</p> - -<p>"It's a lie. I don't know who took it."</p> - -<p>"I believe Butsey did, though why you wanted it I don't know. And -what is there between you and Mr. Hill, father, seeing you sent him -that cross?"</p> - -<p>"That's my business," growled Antonio, finding his son knew too much -for him; "you hold your tongue."</p> - -<p>"I will, as long as you keep away from my mother."</p> - -<p>"Lord, I'll keep away," said Antonio good-humouredly. "I don't want to -live with her nagging and whimpering. You're her son, sure enough--a -young prig going against your lawful father."</p> - -<p>"Only for my mother's sake. And you want me to do wrong. I'm seeing -light, father, and I'm changing."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by seeing light? You're always saying that."</p> - -<p>"I've been to the Salvation Army meetings," said Cain solemnly, "and I -see what a sinner I am."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you're going to turn parson, are you? Well, you can do what you -like, but hold your tongue about my business."</p> - -<p>"I'll do so. But tell me, father?" Cain looked anxiously into the -brutal face, "had you anything to do with that murder?"</p> - -<p>Antonio glared and looked like a devil. He made another dash at the -boy, but at that moment three or four men came round the corner, -and amongst them a policeman. At once Antonio burst out into a loud -laugh and took to his broken English. "Ver' goot, my leetle boy, -gif me the letter. I go to Mees Lorry. Ah, Dio!"</p> - -<p>Cain saw that he would not receive a reply to his terrible question -just then, so, glad to get away on the chance of having another talk -with Jane, he escaped. Hardly had he turned the corner when his -father was after him, and a deep voice breathed in his ear:</p> - -<p>"I had nothing to do with that," said Antonio anxiously; "I'm bad, -but not so bad as that. I don't know who killed the man. Go"--a push -sent the boy reeling--"and hold your tongue. I'll keep my part of the -bargain and leave your mother alone. Keep yours," and before Cain -could recover his breath Antonio was ringing the bell of Miss Lorry's -lodgings.</p> - -<p>That lady was just up and at breakfast. Antonio was shown into her -sitting-room, and found her drinking coffee. She saluted him with a -smile. "Well, Giles, what's brought you here at this hour?"</p> - -<p>"This letter from Stag," said Antonio, giving the note he had received -from Cain; "and don't call me Giles, Bell."</p> - -<p>"You seem very much afraid of people knowing you," she jeered, opening -the envelope, and running her eyes over the letter. "Stag wants me to -make another contract for the North." She threw down the note. "Well -then, I won't."</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do, then?"</p> - -<p>"Go to London and marry Lord Saltars."</p> - -<p>"He means business, then?"</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry rose, and looked as though she would slap Antonio's face. -"You hound," she hissed, "do you think I'd let any man play fast and -loose with me. Not a word," she added, seeing a grim smile on the -strong man's face. "I know what you would say. Leave the past alone, -or it will be the worse for you. And see here, what's become of that -boy Butsey?"</p> - -<p>"He's in London at Father Don's."</p> - -<p>"Poor little wretch. Being made into a devil such as you are. Then, -you send for him to come to Chelmsford. I want him to deliver a -letter, and the sooner it's delivered the better."</p> - -<p>"Can't I deliver it?"</p> - -<p>"No, you can't. I can trust Butsey. I can't trust you."</p> - -<p>"Who is the letter to?"</p> - -<p>"That's my business," flashed out Miss Lorry, returning to her -interrupted breakfast; "tell Stag I'll see him about the note at my -own time."</p> - -<p>"But, Bell, if you leave the show, how will you live?"</p> - -<p>"I've got money saved. You need not ask how much," she added, seeing -the cupidity flash into the man's eyes, "for I am not going to tell -you. I leave the show at the end of October, and then I remain in town -till I become Lady Saltars."</p> - -<p>"A nice bargain he'll get with you," growled Antonio. "I know you."</p> - -<p>"As we've been together in the circus for years, you ought to----"</p> - -<p>"I wasn't thinking of the circus, but of----"</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue," she cried, rising again, "mind your own business."</p> - -<p>"You don't make it worth my while. Suppose I spoil your game with Lord -Saltars?"</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry's face became hard and her eyes glittered. "You dare to -interfere, and I'll send to that policeman at Wargrove to tell him I -saw you at Westhaven speaking to a pair of the biggest blackguards in -London."</p> - -<p>"And what will that do? I've got a right to speak to whom I choose."</p> - -<p>"You can for all I care," said Miss Lorry, sitting down once more, -"your business has nothing to do with me so long as you leave me -alone. Why don't you go home to your poor wife?"</p> - -<p>"My poor wife don't want me. And I wouldn't live with her for gold -untold, seeing how she nags and moans. My wife?" sneered the man -with an ugly look; "you're a nice one to talk of her."</p> - -<p>"I tell you what, Giles Merry," said Miss Lorry, with great -deliberation, "you'd better keep a civil tongue, or you'll have a bad -time. I'll horsewhip you before the company, strong man as you are."</p> - -<p>Antonio scowled. "You wouldn't dare."</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't I? You talk like that and you'll see. You always were a -brute and you always will be. I only hope," added Miss Lorry, -suddenly looking into his eyes, "that you aren't something -worse."</p> - -<p>Antonio met the look with great composure. "Meaning a murderer?" -he said. "Cain asked me if I did kill Strode."</p> - -<p>"And how do I know you didn't?"</p> - -<p>"Because I did not," cried the man, rising and looking fierce.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Miss Lorry, after a pause, "I daresay you didn't. But you -know who did." She looked at him searchingly.</p> - -<p>"I swear by all that's holy, I don't!"</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry laughed disagreeably. "Fancy Giles Merry talking of holy -things. Cain's worth a dozen of you."</p> - -<p>"The young fool! He's going to join the Salvationists!"</p> - -<p>"And a good job too," cried Miss Lorry, with a pleased look, "he may -convert you."</p> - -<p>"Let him try," said the affectionate father, "and I'll smash him."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you'd rather Cain joined Father Don, and Red Jerry and Foxy. -Oh, I saw you talking to Jerry and Foxy at Westhaven. It's my belief," -added Miss Lorry, crushing her egg-shell, "that those two have -something to do with Strode's end."</p> - -<p>"Why don't you tell the police so?"</p> - -<p>"Because I've got my own fish to fry," retorted Miss Lorry, rising and -wiping her mouth; "but the presence of London thieves at Westhaven -when a gentleman was murdered and robbed, looks queer. If the police -knew they'd collar Jerry and Foxy and Father Don too. I fancy you -would be brought into the matter."</p> - -<p>"Look here," cried Antonio with an oath, "do you charge me, or any of -those three with murder?"</p> - -<p>"No, I don't. I only know that you were Strode's pal in the old days, -and that you did a lot of dirty work for him. You're in with a bad -lot, Giles, and will come to a bad end. I only wish I could rescue -that poor little brat of a Butsey from you, but the boy's past -reforming. I know nothing of him, save that he has an admiration for -me, and ran my errands, so that is why I want him to deliver this -letter. You'll try and learn who the letter is written to, Giles: but -you won't. I can trust Butsey. But why don't you turn honest, man, -and make money?"</p> - -<p>"How can I? Honest men don't make money. And I gain my living honestly -enough as a strong man with Stag."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that's a blind to cloak your real character. You're in with -Father Don's gang. Why not split on them?" Miss Lorry leaned forward -and spoke softly. "For instance, why not call on Mr. Strode's lawyer -and tell him Red Jerry came home from Africa about the same time that -Strode did?"</p> - -<p>"What good would that do?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say. Mask knows something, and I want that something told, so -that Miss Strode may marry Allen Hill, and be put out of my way, for -me to marry Saltars. He admires her, and I want her safely married, -beyond his reach. If you told about Red Jerry, Mask might be able to -get back Miss Strode's fortune."</p> - -<p>"What!"--Giles pricked up his ears--"Fortune?"</p> - -<p>"Forty thousand pounds, Giles, in diamonds, I fancy."</p> - -<p>Antonio sat down. "I never knew Strode was so rich," he said. "Why, -the liar told me at Brentwood that he'd made no money."</p> - -<p>"I don't wonder at that," said Miss Lorry; "he knew you'd blackmail him -if he confessed to having money."</p> - -<p>"I knew enough to make things hot for him," said Giles, biting his -large, square fingers, "but I never knew he was rich. Lord, forty -thousand pounds! If I'd known that----"</p> - -<p>"You'd have killed him to get it."</p> - -<p>"I don't say that," growled Giles, putting on his hat, "and as I didn't -kill him, there's no more to be said. Where's the money now?"</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry looked curiously at him. "You should know!"</p> - -<p>"What the blazes do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, if you don't know there's no more to be said. As Strode is dead, -you can't get the money now. Your blackmailing is of no value. Miss -Strode will get the diamonds and marry Mr. Allen Hill."</p> - -<p>"Hill?" said Giles thoughtfully; "does he take after that fool of a -father of his?"</p> - -<p>"No; he's a man and not a whimpering ass like Lawrence Hill."</p> - -<p>Giles stood musing at the door. "So Miss Strode will get the -diamonds?" he said; "blest if I don't see her, and----"</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry whirled round. "You leave her alone or I'll make things -unpleasant for you. The poor girl has sorrow enough, and she's a good -girl."</p> - -<p>"Keep your hair on, I'll do nothing--at present," added Antonio -significantly: and with an ironical bow he departed.</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry clutched her breast with a frown. "I'll write that letter -and send it by Butsey," she said determinedly.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XV</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">AN UNEXPECTED MEETING</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Mask had a dark little office in the city down a long narrow -lane which led from Cheapside. In the building he inhabited were -many offices, mostly those of the legal profession, and Mr. Mask's -rooms were on the ground floor. He had only two. In the outer one -a clerk almost as old as Mr. Mask himself scribbled away in a slow -manner, and showed in clients to the inner room. This was a gloomy -little dungeon with one barred window looking out on to a blank -wall, damp and green with slime. Light was thrown into the room -through this window by means of a silvered glass, so the actual -illumination of the apartment was very small indeed, even in -summer. In winter the gas glared and flared all the day.</p> - -<p>Here Mr. Mask sat like a spider in his den, and the place was so -full of cobwebs that it really suggested spiders in plenty. There -was a rusty grate in which a fire was never lighted, an old -mahogany book-case filled with uninviting-looking volumes, and a -tin wash-stand which was hidden behind a screen of shabby Indian -workmanship. The walls were piled to the dingy ceiling with black -japanned deed-boxes, with the names of various clients inscribed -on them in white letters. Before the window--and dirty enough the -glass of that was--stood a large mahogany table covered untidily -with papers, deeds, briefs, memoranda, and such-like legal -documents. A small clearing in front was occupied by red blotting -paper, and a large lead ink bottle with a tray of pens. There was -one chair for Mr. Mask and one for a client. Finally, as there was -no carpet on the floor it may be guessed that the office was not an -inviting-looking sanctum. Into this hole--as it might fitly be -termed--Allen was shown one morning. He had not called immediately -on Mr. Mask when he came to town, as he had been searching for his -father for the last five days. But all inquiries proved futile. -Allen went to the hotel at which Mr. Hill usually stayed, but could -not find him there. He had not been stopping in the place for -months. Allen sought the aid of the police, but they could not find -Mr. Hill. Finally he put an advertisement in the paper, which -remained unanswered. Also Allen had called on Mr. Hill's bankers, -but found that he had not been near the place. It was so strange -that Allen was beginning to feel afraid. The message conveyed in the -symbol sent through Cain must be a very serious one, to make his -father cut himself off from those who knew him, in this way.</p> - -<p>As a last resource, Allen came to see Mr. Mask, feeling he should -have done this before. Mask had a large business, but on the face of -it appeared to do very little in the dingy office. But he was a man -who could be trusted with a secret, and many people who knew this -intrusted him with affairs they wished kept quiet. Consequently -Mask's business was sometimes rather shady, but he made a great deal -of money by it, and that was all he cared about.</p> - -<p>A silent, cold man was Mask, and even in his own home at Bloomsbury -he was secretive. Still the man had his good points, and had an -undercurrent of good nature of which he was somewhat ashamed, heaven -only knows why. If he had been as hard as he looked, he certainly -would not have asked Mrs. Palmer to give poor Eva a home.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Allen," said Mask, who called him thus to distinguish -him from his father, whom he had known many years, "so you have -come at last?" Allen, who was placing his hat on the floor, as -there was no table to put it on, started and stared. "Did you -expect me?"</p> - -<p>"Long ago," said Mask, putting his fingers together and leaning back -with crossed legs; "in fact, you should have come to me five days ago. -There was no necessity for you to consult the police as to your -father's whereabouts, or to call at his bank and hotel, or to put that -very injudicious advertisement into the paper."</p> - -<p>"You seem to know all about my doings?"</p> - -<p>"Quite so. I know a great many things. To be frank, Mr. Allen, I have -had you watched by a private detective, ever since you came to town."</p> - -<p>Allen rose in a towering rage. "How dare you do that, Mr. Mask?"</p> - -<p>"I did so at your father's request," said the lawyer, on whom the -young man's rage produced not the least effect.</p> - -<p>"You have seen him?"</p> - -<p>"I have. He came to me when he arrived."</p> - -<p>"Do you know where he is?"</p> - -<p>"I do--but I am not at liberty to tell you."</p> - -<p>"Do you know why he is acting in this way?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Mask's calm face suddenly wrinkled. "No," he said, looking -perplexed, "frankly, Mr. Allen, I don't, and I am glad you have -called. I wish to talk the matter over with you."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you send for me, then?"</p> - -<p>"Because it is never my wish to take the initiative. People come to -me. I don't go to them. I get a lot of business by waiting, Mr. -Allen. People are only too glad to find a man who can keep a secret; -I have made a fine business out of nothing, simply by holding my -tongue."</p> - -<p>"And do you intend to do so in this instance?"</p> - -<p>Mask shrugged his spare shoulders. "That depends. Johnstone!"</p> - -<p>He raised his voice rather, and the door opened to admit a small -clerk with a large red beard and a bald head, and a face lined with -wrinkles. What his age was no one could tell, and he said as little -as he could, being as secretive as his master. Without a word he -stood at the door, seen dimly in the half light of the office, for -the day was dark. "Johnstone," said Mr. Mask. "I'll be engaged with -this gentleman for some time. Let no one in, till I call again."</p> - -<p>Johnstone bowed and departed without a word, while Mr. Mask went on in -a smooth tone, "I sit in this office from ten in the morning till six -at night. Johnstone comes at nine and leaves at four."</p> - -<p>"Why before you?" asked Allen, wondering why this information was -supplied.</p> - -<p>"Because I like the office to myself to see nervous clients. The -lawyers in the other offices of the building do not stay late, and -frequently I am perfectly alone with clients who wish their business -kept so secret that they don't want even to be seen entering this -place."</p> - -<p>"Are you not afraid?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Mask shrugged his shoulders again. "No. Why should I be?"</p> - -<p>"Some rough client might do you some harm."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't think so. Any one who comes here finds it to his -interest to conciliate me, not to threaten. But I confess that I was -rather startled the other night."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"I'll come to the story in time. Because I intend to tell it, I drew -your attention to my hours. Well, Mr. Allen," Mask leaned back again, -"and what can I do for you?"</p> - -<p>"Tell me where my father is."</p> - -<p>"I can't do that. I have not your father's permission to do so."</p> - -<p>"How long will he be away?"</p> - -<p>"Until I can induce him to return," said Mask blandly.</p> - -<p>Allen leaned forward, and looked the lawyer in the eyes. "Is my -father afraid of being arrested?"</p> - -<p>Mask started. "No. Why do you say that?"</p> - -<p>"Because--but before I tell you, may I ask his reason for staying -away?"</p> - -<p>Mask looked perplexed again. "I can't exactly tell you," he said. "I -may as well be frank, Mr. Allen, as I don't like the situation. Your -father, whom I have known all his life, came to me over a week ago -in great agitation. He said that he was in danger, but what the -danger was, he refused to confess. I insisted on an explanation, and -he promised to tell me some day. Meantime he wanted to be hidden away -for the time being. I arranged that for him."</p> - -<p>"I don't think that was wise of you, Mr. Mask."</p> - -<p>"My good Allen--I can call you so as I've known you since you were a -lad--there is no reason why I should not help your father. He may -have done something against the law, for all I know, but as he is my -client, it is my duty to help him. He is a good client to me, and I -am not such a fool as to lose him. It is my business to keep secrets, -and here is one I have not found out. But I don't intend to let your -father go away till I <i>do</i> find out," said Mask grimly. "On that -condition I helped him. And after all," added the lawyer, "your -father is quite in his sane senses, and I have no right to dictate to -him, even when he acts in so eccentric a manner."</p> - -<p>"He is always eccentric," said the son wearily; "but this behaviour is -beyond a joke. How is my mother to live?"</p> - -<p>"I can't send her money. Your father will see to that."</p> - -<p>"But why am I shut out from my father's confidence?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say. Remember," said Mask in a slightly irritable tone, "I am -shut out also."</p> - -<p>Allen, much perplexed over the situation which was sufficiently -annoying and mysterious, thought for a moment. "Did my father tell -you of the cardboard box he received?"</p> - -<p>"He did not. He said nothing, save that he wished to hide for a -time, and would reveal his reason later."</p> - -<p>"Then I must tell you everything I know," said Allen in -desperation. "If my father won't trust you, I must. My mother is -in a great state of alarm, and for her sake I must get him to come -back."</p> - -<p>Mr. Mask looked doubtful. "I don't know whether he'll hear reason," he -said, after a pause. "However, what you tell me will go no further."</p> - -<p>"Well then, Mr. Mask, I know why my father is afraid."</p> - -<p>"It's more than I do. Why is he afraid?"</p> - -<p>"Because he thinks he may be arrested for the murder of Strode."</p> - -<p>Mask pushed back his chair and rose quickly. It was not an easy matter -to astonish a man, who, in that very room, had heard tales worthy of -the <i>Arabian Nights</i>., but Allen had certainly managed to do so. "Do you -mean to say he killed Strode?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"No. But he thinks he did."</p> - -<p>"How can that be?"</p> - -<p>Allen related the episode of the pistol, and how he found that the -bullet which killed Strode would not fit the barrel. "So you see my -father thought he had killed him, and when this cross was sent----"</p> - -<p>"What cross?" asked Mask, looking up quickly.</p> - -<p>"I forgot. I thought you knew." And Allen related everything in -detail. Mask heard the story with his chin on his hand, and in -silence. Even when in full possession of the facts he did not speak. -Allen grew impatient. "What do you think?"</p> - -<p>Mask moved a few papers hither and thither, but did not look straight -at his visitor. "It's a mystery," he said. "I know not what to say. -But I am perfectly sure of one thing," he added with emphasis, "that -your father never shot Strode----"</p> - -<p>"I said so. The bullet that went through the heart did not fit the -barrel of my revolver."</p> - -<p>"You misunderstand me. I don't even believe that your father fired the -shot which ripped the flesh of the arm. Why, Strode was his best -friend and he was devoted to him."</p> - -<p>"My father to Strode, or Strode to my father?"</p> - -<p>"Both ways you can take it. Why, it was Strode brought about the -marriage between your parents."</p> - -<p>"My mother told me how the marriage came about," said Allen quickly, -"but I understood that my father acted from a chivalrous motive."</p> - -<p>Mask's lip curled. "I fear not," he said, "there were circumstances -connected with your mother----"</p> - -<p>Allen shifted himself uneasily and grew red. "I know--I know," he said -sharply, "my mother told me about the necklace. Surely you did not -believe her guilty, Mr. Mask?"</p> - -<p>"No," said the lawyer emphatically, "I certainly did not. I can't say -who stole the necklace, but it was lost and the thief has never been -found. As to the marriage"--he waved his hand--"Strode brought it -about--at least he told me so. How he managed I can't say, unless it -was that he used his influence over your father."</p> - -<p>"My mother believes----"</p> - -<p>"I know. All the more credit to her. But we can discuss this on some -more fitting occasion. Meantime we must talk of your father. I don't -see why you shouldn't see him," said Mask musingly.</p> - -<p>"Give me his address."</p> - -<p>"Humph," said the lawyer, smiling slightly. "I'll see. But about -this murder? Your father did not kill the man."</p> - -<p>"No," said Allen sharply, "I swear he did not."</p> - -<p>"Quite so. Well, who did, and what was the motive?"</p> - -<p>"Robbery was the motive," said Allen, taking a letter out of his -pocket. "Read this, I received it from Miss Strode."</p> - -<p>Mask took the letter, but did not read it immediately. "I don't -believe the motive was robbery," he declared deliberately; "Strode had -little money. He certainly brought a hundred or so from Africa and I -cashed his letters of credit."</p> - -<p>"Did you give him the money in notes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; and what is more I have the numbers of the notes. I see what -you mean: you fancy the notes were stolen and that the criminal can -thus be traced."</p> - -<p>"Read the letter," said Allen impatiently.</p> - -<p>The lawyer did so, and thus became possessed of a faithful report of -Saltars' communications to Eva which she had detailed for Allen's -benefit. On ending he placed the letter on the table. "A blue -pocket-book," said Mask musingly. "Yes, he had such a one. I -remember he placed the notes in it. I wonder I didn't ask about that -at the inquest. It's stolen. Humph! Looks like a commonplace robbery -after all. Allen," he raised his eyes, "I gave Strode two hundred in -ten pound Bank of England notes. As I have the numbers, I may be -able to trace how much of this sum has been spent by inquiring at -the Bank. The numbers that are missing will be those that Strode had -in the blue pocket-book when he went on that fatal journey to -Westhaven. If the murderer stole the book and has cashed the notes -he may be traced by the numbers."</p> - -<p>"I agree. But what about the forty thousand pounds?"</p> - -<p>Mask shook his head. "I can't say. Strode certainly never mentioned -to me that he had such a sum."</p> - -<p>"Did he say he had diamonds?"</p> - -<p>"No. Perhaps, as Miss Strode suggests, the forty thousand pounds may -have been locked up in diamonds as a portable way to carry such a sum. -But we found no diamonds amongst his effects, so it is probable he -carried them on his person."</p> - -<p>"And was murdered for the sake of them?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps. It was strange, though, that Strode should have spoken to me -about his wooden hand. He promised that he would return from Wargrove -to place a large sum of money in my hands--probably the forty thousand -pounds, though he did not mention the amount."</p> - -<p>"I dare say he intended to turn the diamonds into money and then give -it to you."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," said Mask carelessly, "but we are not yet sure if the -money was in diamonds. However, Strode said, that when he wanted the -promised money, he would get it from me personally, and, if he did -not apply in person, he would send the wooden hand. As he certainly -would not have let the hand be taken from him while alive, it was a -very safe token to send."</p> - -<p>Allen looked down. "It seems as though he was afraid of being -killed," he said musingly; "and he was killed, and the wooden hand -was stolen."</p> - -<p>"Not only that," said Mask, "but it was brought to me."</p> - -<p>"What!" Allen started to his feet, "here! Why didn't you have the -man who brought it arrested?"</p> - -<p>"Because I could not," said Mask drily; "this is why I told you -of my habits. It was after four when Johnstone and every one in -the place was away. In fact, it was nearly six, and when I was -getting ready to go, that this man came."</p> - -<p>"What kind of a man was he?"</p> - -<p>"A venerable old man, who looked like the Wandering Jew, with a -long white beard, and a benevolent face. He asked if he could -speak to me, and we talked. I must remind you that every one in -this building is away at the hour of six."</p> - -<p>"I understand. But what was the old man's name?"</p> - -<p>"He gave none. He simply asked if I had a sum of money in my -possession belonging to Mr. Strode. I said I had not; so he asked -if Mr. Strode had left a packet of diamonds with me."</p> - -<p>"Then there <i>are</i> diamonds!" cried Allen; "and you knew?"</p> - -<p>"Now you mention it, I did know," said Mask coolly; "all in good -time, Allen. I wished to learn how much you knew before I spoke -out. I am a man who keeps secrets, mind you, and I don't say more -than is needful. Well, this old man, when I said that I had no -diamonds, told me in so many words that I was a liar, and -insisted that I should give them up. To test him, I jokingly -asked him if he had the wooden hand, which was to be the token to -deliver the money or diamonds. He then produced the article."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you arrest him?"</p> - -<p>"Let me remind you that I was alone with the Wandering Jew, and that -he brought two men of whom I caught a glimpse. They remained in the -outer room during our conversation. I asked the old man how he -became possessed of the wooden hand. He refused to tell me, but -insisted that I should hand over the diamonds. I protested that I -had none, and told him what I tell you, as to what Strode said about -giving me money later."</p> - -<p>"What did the old man say then?"</p> - -<p>"He began to believe me, and muttered something about the diamonds -being in Strode's possession. Then he sang out, 'No go, Jerry,' to a -red-headed ruffian outside. After that, he left."</p> - -<p>"You should have followed, Mr. Mask, and have had him arrested."</p> - -<p>"I could scarcely do that," said the lawyer drily, "the old -gentleman was too clever. He went with one man, and left the -red-headed Jerry to keep watch. I had to remain in this room till -seven, or else Jerry threatened to shoot me."</p> - -<p>"He would never have dared."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, he would, and in this lonely building no one could have -stopped him. Well I agreed, and remained in here doing some work. At -seven I opened the outer door. Jerry had decamped, but where he and -his friends went I can't say?"</p> - -<p>"Have you told the police?"</p> - -<p>"No. I think it is wiser to remain quiet. These men will try again -to get the money through the wooden hand; but they must first learn -who killed Strode, and stole the diamonds--for I now agree with you, -Allen, that the forty thousand pounds are locked up in diamonds. But -now we have talked on this point and it seems clear, let us talk on -another in the presence of a third person."</p> - -<p>"Who?" asked Allen anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Your father," said Mask. "Johnstone!"</p> - -<p>The red-bearded clerk entered, and when within, removed a false beard -and a wig.</p> - -<p>"Father," cried Allen, rising. It was indeed Mr. Hill, pale and -trembling.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVI</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">MR. HILL'S STORY</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Allen was so thunderstruck at the sight of his father, who had so -unexpectedly appeared, that he could only stand silently staring. -Mr. Hill gave a nervous titter, and tried to appear at his ease. -But the sight of his pale face and trembling limbs shewed that the -man was possessed by terror. Also he locked the door while Allen -gaped. It was Mask who spoke first.</p> - -<p>"You are surprised to find your father as my clerk," he said -smoothly to Allen; "but when he came to me asking to be concealed, I -arranged that Johnstone should take a much-needed holiday at the -sea-side. I believe he is at Brighton," said Mr. Mask deliberately. -"In the meantime, your father, by means of a clever disguise, -adopted Johnstone's name, and personality, and looks. In the dim -light of the office every one thinks he is Johnstone, and to tell -you the truth," said Mr. Mask, smiling, "my clients are so possessed -by their own fears, that they take very little notice of my clerk."</p> - -<p>Allen scarcely listened to the half of this explanation. "Father," he -cried, "whatever is the meaning of all this?"</p> - -<p>Hill tittered again, and looked about for a seat as his limbs -would hardly support him. As Mr. Mask had one chair, and Allen the -other, it looked as though Hill would have to sink on the floor. But -Allen pushed forward his own chair and made his father sit down. -Then, so white was the man, that he produced his flask, and gave him -a nip of brandy. "I never travel without this," said Allen, alluding -to the flask. "It comes in handy at times," and he spoke this -irrelevantly so as to put Hill at his ease.</p> - -<p>The little man, under the grotesque mask of Johnstone, grew braver -after the brandy, with Dutch courage. "You did not expect to find me -here, Allen?" he said, with his nervous titter.</p> - -<p>"I certainly did not," said his son bitterly; "and I don't know why -you need disguise yourself in this way. I know you did not murder -Strode."</p> - -<p>"But I intended to," cried Hill, suddenly snarling, and showing his -teeth, "the black-hearted villain."</p> - -<p>"I thought Strode was your friend, father?"</p> - -<p>"He was my enemy--he was my evil genius--he was a tyrant who tried -to crush all the spirit out of me. Oh," Hill beat his fist on the -table in impotent rage, "I'm glad he's dead. But I wish he'd died -by torture--I wish he'd been burnt--sliced to atoms. I wish----"</p> - -<p>"Stop," said Mask, seeing Allen turn white and faint, at the sight -of this degrading spectacle, "there's no need to speak like this, -Lawrence. Tell us how you came to be at the Red Deeps."</p> - -<p>"How do you know I was at the Red Deeps?" asked Hill, shivering, and -with the sudden rage dying out of him.</p> - -<p>"Well, you took your son's revolver, and----"</p> - -<p>"You said you didn't believe I fired the shot, Mask," cried the -miserable creature. "I heard you say so, I had my ear to the -keyhole all the time----</p> - -<p>"Father--father," said Allen, sick with disgust at the sight of his -parent behaving in this way.</p> - -<p>"And why not?" cried Hill, turning fiercely on him. "I am in danger. -Haven't I the right to take all measures I can for my own safety? I -<i>did</i> listen, I tell you, and I overheard all. Had you not proved to -Mask here, that the bullet which caused the death could not have been -fired out of your revolver, I'd not have come in. I should have run -away. But you know I am innocent----"</p> - -<p>"Quite so," said Mask, looking searchingly at the speaker, "therefore -the reason for your disguise is at an end."</p> - -<p>Hill passed his tongue over his dry lips and crouched again. "No, -it isn't," he said faintly, "there's something else."</p> - -<p>"In heaven's name, what is it?" asked Allen.</p> - -<p>"Leave me alone," snarled his father, shrinking back in his chair and -looking apprehensively at his tall, white-faced son, "it's got nothing -to do with you."</p> - -<p>"It has everything to do with me," said his son with calm firmness, -"for my mother's sake I intend to have an explanation."</p> - -<p>"If my wife were here she would never let you treat me in this way, -Allen," whimpered the miserable father. "Sarah"--he did not call his -wife Saccharissa now, the situation being too serious--"Sarah is -always kind to me."</p> - -<p>Allen with folded arms leaned against the bookcase and looked at his -father with deep pity in his eyes. Hill was alternately whimpering and -threatening: at one moment he would show a sort of despairing courage, -and the next would wince like a child fearful of a blow. The young man -never loved his father, who, taken up with himself and his whims, had -done nothing to make the boy love him. He had never respected the man, -and only out of regard for his mother had he refrained from taking -strong measures to curb the pronounced eccentricities of Hill. But the -man, miserable coward as he seemed, was still his father, and it -behoved him to deal with him as gently as possible. In his own mind, -Allen decided that his father's troubles--whatever they were--had -driven him insane. But the sight of that cringing, crawling figure -begot a mixture of pity and loathing--loathing that a human creature -should fall so low, and pity that his own father should suddenly -become a 'thing' instead of a man.</p> - -<p>"I want to be kind to you, father," he said after a pause; "who will -you trust if not your own son?"</p> - -<p>"You were never a son to me," muttered Hill.</p> - -<p>"Was that my fault?" asked Allen strongly. "I would have been a son to -you, if you had let me. But you know, father, how you kept me at -arm's length--you know how you ruled the house according to your -whims and fancies, and scorned both my mother and myself. Often you -have spoken to her in such a manner that it was only the knowledge -that you are my father which made me refrain from interfering. My -mother says she owes much to you----"</p> - -<p>"So she does--so she does."</p> - -<p>"Then why take advantage of her gratitude? She gives everything to -you, father, and you treat her in a way--faugh," Allen swept the air -with his arm, as though to banish the subject. "Let us say no more on -that point. But I have come up here to get to the bottom of this -affair, father, and I don't leave this place till I know all."</p> - -<p>Hill tried to straighten himself. "You forget I am your father," he -said, with an attempt at dignity.</p> - -<p>"No; I do not forget. Because you are my father I wish to help you -out of this trouble, whatever it is. I can save you from being -accused of Strode's murder, but the other thing----"</p> - -<p>"I never said there was anything else," said Hill quickly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you did, Lawrence," said Mask. "I have taken a note of it."</p> - -<p>"Oh," whimpered Hill, "if you turn against me too---"</p> - -<p>"Neither one of us intend to turn against you," said Allen in deep -disgust, for the man was more like a jelly-fish than ever, and -constantly evaded all attempts to bring him to the point. "For -heaven's sake, father, summon up your manhood and let us know the -worst!"</p> - -<p>"I won't be spoken to in this way," stuttered Hill, growing red.</p> - -<p>Allen made one stride forward, and looked down from his tall height -at the crouching figure in the chair--the figure in its shameful -disguise, with the white face and wild eyes. "You shall be spoken to -in a perfectly quiet way," he said calmly, although inwardly -agitated, "but you shall do what you are told. I have put up with -this state of things long enough. In future, my mother shall govern -the house, and you shall come back to it to indulge in whatever whims -you like within reason. But master you shall not be."</p> - -<p>"Who will prevent me?" said Hill, trying to bluster.</p> - -<p>"I shall," said Allen decisively; "you are not fit to manage your -own affairs or to rule a house. If you come back--as you shall--my -mother, who loves you, will do all she can to make you happy. I -also, as your son, will give you all respect due to a father."</p> - -<p>"You're doing so now, I think," sneered Hill, very white.</p> - -<p>"God help me, what else can I do?" cried Allen, restraining himself -by a violent effort; "if you could see yourself you would know what it -costs me to speak to you like this. But, for your own sake, for my -mother's sake, for my own, I must take the upper hand."</p> - -<p>Hill leaped panting from his seat. "You dare!----"</p> - -<p>"Sit down," said his son imperiously, and pushed him back in his -chair; "yes, I dare, father. As you are not responsible, I shall -deal with you as I think is for your good. I know how to deal with -men," said Allen, looking very tall and very strong, "and so I shall -deal with you."</p> - -<p>"You forget," panted Hill, with dry lips, "I have the money."</p> - -<p>"I forget nothing. I shall have a commission of lunacy taken out -against you and the money matters shall be arranged----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," Hill burst into tears, and turned to the quiet, observant -Mask, "can you sit and hear all this?"</p> - -<p>"I think your son is right, Lawrence."</p> - -<p>"I shall go to law," cried Hill fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Can a man in hiding go to law?" hinted Mask significantly.</p> - -<p>The miserable man sank back in his seat and wept. Sick at heart, -Allen looked at the old lawyer. "You are my father's friend, sir," -he said gently, "try and bring him to reason. As for me, I must walk -for a time in the outer room to recover myself. I can't bear the -sight of those tears. My father--oh, God help me, my father!" and -Allen, unlocking the door, walked into the outer room sick at -heart. He was not a man given to melodrama, but the sight of his -wretched father made him sick and faint. He sat down in the clerk's -chair to recover himself, and leaned his aching head on his hand.</p> - -<p>What passed between Mask and Hill he never knew, but after half an -hour the old lawyer called Allen in. Hill had dried his tears, and -was still sitting hunched up in the chair. But he was calmer, and -took the words which Mask would have spoken out of the lawyer's -mouth. "I am much worried, Allen," said he softly, "so you must -excuse my being somewhat unstrung. If you think it wise, I'll go -back."</p> - -<p>"So far as I know, I do think it wise."</p> - -<p>"Let us hear the story first," said Mask.</p> - -<p>"What story?" asked Allen sharply.</p> - -<p>"My miserable story," said Hill; "I'll tell it all. You may be -able to help me. And I need help," he ended piteously.</p> - -<p>"You shall have all help, father. Tell me why you went to the Red -Deeps and took my revolver."</p> - -<p>Hill did not answer at once. His eyelids drooped, and he looked -cunningly and doubtfully at his son. Apparently he did not trust him -altogether, and was thinking as to what he would say, and what leave -unsaid. The two men did not speak, and after a pause, Hill, now more -composed, began to speak slowly:</p> - -<p>"I have known Strode all my life, and he always treated me badly. As a -boy I lived near his father's place at Wargrove, and my father liked -me to associate with him, as he was of better birth than I. We studied -at the same school and the same college, and, when we went into the -world, Strode's influence introduced me into aristocratic circles. But -my own talents aided me also," said Hill, with open vanity, "I can do -everything and amuse any one. When I stopped at Lord Ipsen's----"</p> - -<p>"My mother told me of that," said Allen with a gesture of repugnance, -"and I don't want to hear the story again."</p> - -<p>"I'm not going to tell it," retorted his father tartly, "my idea was -to explain a popularity you will never attain to, Allen. However, I'll -pass that over. I married your mother, and Strode married Lady Jane -Delham, with whom I also was in love--and I would have made her a much -better husband than Strode," said the little man plaintively.</p> - -<p>"Go on, please," said Mask, glancing at his watch. "There isn't much -time. I have to go out to luncheon."</p> - -<p>"Always thinking of yourself, Mask," sneered Hill, "you always -did, you know. Well, I saw little of Strode for some time. Then I -lent him money and saw less of him than ever. Then he----"</p> - -<p>"You told me all this before," interposed Allen, who began to think -his father was merely playing with him.</p> - -<p>"I'll come to the point presently," said Hill with great dignity; -"let me say, Allen, that although I hated Strode, and had good cause -too--yes, very good cause--I liked Eva. When you wished to marry -her, I was pleased. She wrote to her father about the marriage. He -sent her a cablegram saying he was coming home----"</p> - -<p>"And when he did arrive at Southampton he told her she was not to -think of the marriage."</p> - -<p>"He told me also," said Hill, "and long before. He wrote from the Cape -telling me he would not allow you to marry Eva."</p> - -<p>"Allow me!" said Allen indignantly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and told me I was to stop the marriage. I wrote, and urged the -advisability of the match. When Strode reached Southampton, he wrote -again saying he intended Eva to marry Lord Saltars---"</p> - -<p>"Did he make any mention of money?"</p> - -<p>"No. He simply said that if I did not stop the marriage he would -disgrace me," here Hill changed colour, and looked furtively at both -his listeners.</p> - -<p>"How disgrace you?" asked Mask sharply.</p> - -<p>"I shan't tell you that," was the dogged reply, "all you need know -is, that Strode could disgrace me. I--I--made a mistake when I was -a young man," said Hill, casting down his eyes, so as not to meet -the honest gaze of his son, "and Strode took advantage of it. He -made me sign a document confessing what I had done----"</p> - -<p>"And what in heaven's name had you done?" questioned Allen, much -troubled.</p> - -<p>"That's my business. I shan't say--it has nothing to do with you," -said Hill hurriedly, "but Strode had the document and always carried -it about with him. I wanted to get it and destroy it, so I asked him -when he came to Wargrove to meet me at the Red Deeps, and then I -would tell him how the marriage with you could be prevented. I also -said that I knew something about Lord Saltars----"</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," said Hill, this time frankly. "I really knew nothing, but I -wanted Strode to come to the Red Deeps. He made an appointment to meet -me there on Wednesday at nine."</p> - -<p>"In that case, why did he wire to Eva he would be down on Thursday?"</p> - -<p>"Because he wanted to come down quietly to see me. And," added Hill -hesitating, "he had to see some one else. I don't know who, but he -hinted that he had to see some one."</p> - -<p>"When you spoke to him at the Red Deeps?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I went there on Wednesday and he was waiting. It was getting -dark, but we saw plainly enough. I urged him to give up the -document. He refused, and told me that he required more money. I -grew angry and left him."</p> - -<p>"Alive?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. But I had your revolver with me, Allen. I took it with the -idea of shooting Strode, if he didn't give up the document----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," cried Allen, shrinking back. It seemed horrible to hear his -father talk like this. "But you didn't----"</p> - -<p>"No. I got behind a bush and fired. My shot touched his arm, for -he clapped his hand to the wound. Then he turned with a volley of -abuse to run after me. At that moment there came another shot from a -clump of trees near me, and Strode fell face downward. I was so afraid -at the idea of any one having been near me, and of having overheard -our conversation----"</p> - -<p>"And of seeing your attempt at murder," interpolated Mask.</p> - -<p>"Yes--yes--that I dropped Allen's revolver and ran away."</p> - -<p>"I found the revolver and took it home," said Allen; "so the way -you acted the next morning when Wasp came was----"</p> - -<p>"It was the morning after that," said his father drily, "on -Friday, and Strode was shot on Wednesday. I never went near the -Red Deeps again. I didn't know if Strode was dead, but I knew -that he had been shot. I steeled myself to bear the worst, but -did not make any inquiries out of policy. When Wasp came that -morning at breakfast, I knew what he had to say. Strode was dead. -I dreaded lest Wasp should say that the revolver had been found, -in which case you might have got into trouble, Allen: but I was -thankful nothing was said of it."</p> - -<p>The young man was astounded at this cool speech: but he passed it -over, as it was useless to be angry with such a man. "I picked up -the revolver as I said," he replied; "but about the document?"</p> - -<p>"I hadn't time to get it. The shot frightened me."</p> - -<p>"Did you see who fired the shot?"</p> - -<p>"No. I was too afraid. I simply ran away and never looked back."</p> - -<p>At this point Mask held up his hand. "I hear some one in the outer -office," he said, and rose to open the door. Hill slipped behind -the table quivering with fear. However, Mask returned to his seat. -"I am wrong," he said, "there's no one there. Go on."</p> - -<p>"What else do you want to know?" questioned Hill irritably.</p> - -<p>"Why you fainted and left the house, when you got that cross from -Giles Merry?"</p> - -<p>Hill stared. "You knew it was Giles?" he stammered; "what do you know -of Giles?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing. But Mrs. Merry recognised the direction on the brown -paper as being in her husband's writing. Why did you faint?"</p> - -<p>Hill looked down and then looked up defiantly. He was still -standing behind the desk. "I stole the wooden hand!"</p> - -<p>"What!" cried Mask and Allen, both rising.</p> - -<p>"Yes. I had my reasons for doing so. I took it from the body, when -I was in the death-chamber. I had it in my pocket when I saw you -and Eva, and said it was stolen. And then," went on Mr. Hill very -fast, so that Allen should not give expression to the horror which -was on his face, "I took it home. But I feared lest my wife should -find it and then I would get into trouble. Sarah was always looking -into my private affairs," he whined, "so to stop that, I went and -buried the hand on the common. Some one must have watched me, for I -put that cross to mark the spot. When I opened the parcel and saw -the cross I knew some one must have dug up the wooden hand and that -my secret----"</p> - -<p>"What has the wooden hand to do with your secret?"</p> - -<p>Hill shuffled, but did not reply to the question. "It was Giles's -writing. I knew he'd got the wooden hand, and my secret--Hark!" -There was certainly the sound of retreating footsteps in the other -room. Allen flung open the door, while his father cowered behind the -desk. The outer door was closing. Allen leaped for it: but the -person had turned the key in the lock. They heard a laugh, and then -retreating footsteps. Mask, who had followed Allen, saw something -white on the floor. He picked it up. It was a letter addressed to -Sebastian Mask. Opening this he returned to the inner office. "Let -us look at this first," said Mask, and recalled Allen: then he read -what was in the envelope. It consisted of one line. "Open the wooden -hand," said the mysterious epistle.</p> - -<p>"No," shrieked Hill, dropping on his knees; "my secret will be found -out!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">A FRIEND IN NEED</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Allen was stopping in quiet rooms near Woburn Square, which was -cheaper than boarding at a hotel. He was none too well off, as his -father allowed him nothing. Still, Allen had made sufficient money -to live fairly comfortable, and had not spent much, since his -arrival in England, owing to his residence at "The Arabian Nights."</p> - -<p>It had been Allen's intention to escort his father back to Wargrove, -whither Hill consented to go. But, on explaining to Mask his desire -to trace out Butsey by using the address of the Fresh Air People in -Whitechapel, Mask had agreed to take the old man home himself. He -thought that it was just as well Allen should find the boy, who might -know much.</p> - -<p>"He didn't steal the wooden hand," said Mask, when he parted from -Allen, "but he is evidently in with the gang."</p> - -<p>"What gang, Mr. Mask?"</p> - -<p>"That headed by the old gentleman who called on me. Jerry is one of -the gang, and this boy Butsey another. He sent that telegram, -remember. If you can find the lad you may learn much, and perhaps may -get back the hand."</p> - -<p>"But what good will that do?" asked Allen, puzzled; "from what my -father said when you read the anonymous letter, he evidently knew that -the hand can be opened. If, as he says, it contains his secret, he -must have opened it himself when he took it home, and before he buried -it."</p> - -<p>Mask wrinkled his brows and shook his head. "I confess that I -cannot understand," he remarked hopelessly, "nor will I, until -your father is more frank with me. This is one reason why I am -taking him myself to Wargrove. When I get him there I may induce -him to tell me his secret."</p> - -<p>"It must be a very serious secret to make him behave as he does."</p> - -<p>Mask sighed. "I repeat that I can't understand. I have known your -father all his life. We were boys together, and I also knew Strode. -But although your father was always foolish, I can't think that he -would do anything likely to bring him within reach of the law."</p> - -<p>"He stole the wooden hand, at all events," said Allen grimly.</p> - -<p>"Out of sheer terror, I believe, and that makes me think that his -secret, for the preservation of which he robbed the dead, is more -serious than we think. However I'll see what I can learn, and failing -your father, I shall ask Giles Merry."</p> - -<p>"Do you think he knows?"</p> - -<p>"I fancy so. The parcel with the cross was addressed in his writing, -so it is he who has the hand. He must have given it to the old -scoundrel who called on me, so I think, Mr. Allen, we are justified -in adding Merry to the gang."</p> - -<p>"But the hand must have been empty when my father buried it on the -common, so how could Giles know his secret?"</p> - -<p>"I can only say that I don't understand," said Mask with a gesture -of hopelessness; "wait till I get your father to speak out. Then we -may learn the truth."</p> - -<p>"I dread to hear it," said the son gloomily.</p> - -<p>"Well," replied Mask in a comforting tone, "at all events we know -it has nothing to do with this murder. It is your task to learn -who committed that, and you may do so through Butsey."</p> - -<p>After this conversation Mr. Mask took Hill back to Wargrove, -whither the old man went willingly enough. He seemed to think -himself absolutely safe, when in the company of his legal adviser -and old friend. Allen returned to his rooms, and sent a message to -Mr. Horace Parkins that he would see him that afternoon. It was -necessary that he should keep faith with his friend Mark Parkins in -South America, and find a capitalist; and Allen thought that -Horace, whom Mark reported shrewd, might know of some South African -millionaire likely to float the mine in Bolivia. As to the search -after Butsey, Allen had not quite made up his mind. He could learn -of Butsey's whereabouts certainly, but if it was some low den where -the lad lived, he did not want to go alone, and thought it might be -necessary to enlist the service of a detective. For his father's -sake, Allen did not wish to do so. But he must have some one to go -with him into the depths of London slums, that was certain. Allen -knew the life of the Naked Lands, and there could more than hold -his own, but he was ignorant of the more terrible life of the -submerged tenth's dens.</p> - -<p>It was at three o'clock that Allen appointed the meeting with -Parkins, and at that hour precisely a cab drove up. In a few -minutes Parkins was shown in by the landlady, and proved to be a -giant of over six feet, lean, bright-eyed, and speaking with a -decided American accent. He was smartly dressed in a Bond Street -kit, but looked rather out of place in a frock-coat and silk hat -and patent leather boots.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm glad to see you," said the giant, shaking hands with a -grip which made Allen wince--and he was no weakling. "Mark's been -firing in letters about what a good sort you are, and I was just -crazy to meet you. It isn't easy finding a pal in this rotten -planet of ours, Mr. Hill, but I guess from what Mark says, you fill -the bill, so far as he's concerned, and I hope you'll cotton on to -me, for I'm dog-sick with loneliness in this old city."</p> - -<p>Allen laughed at this long speech and placed a chair for his -visitor. "You'd like a drink, I know," he said, ringing the bell.</p> - -<p>"Milk only," said Parkins, hitching up the knees of his trousers, -and casting his mighty bulk into the deep chair; "I don't hold with -wine, or whisky, or tea, or coffee, or anything of that sort. My -nerves are my own, I guess, and all I've got to hang on to, for -the making of bargains. I'm not going to play Sally-in-our-Alley -with them. No, sir, I guess not. Give me the cow's brew."</p> - -<p>So a glass of milk was brought, and Mr. Parkins was made happy. -"I suppose you don't smoke, then?" said Allen, amused.</p> - -<p>"You bet--a pipe." He produced a short clay and filled it. "I'm of -the opinion of that old chap in <i>Westward Ho</i>., if you know the -book?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't read it for years."</p> - -<p>"Y'ought to. I read it every year, same as I do my Bible. Had I my -way, sir," he emphasised with his pipe, "I'd give every English boy -a copy of that glorious book to show him what a man should be."</p> - -<p>"You're English, I believe, Mr. Parkins?"</p> - -<p>"Born, but not bred so. Fact is, my mother and father didn't go -well in double harness, so mother stopped at home with Mark, and -I lighted out Westward-ho with father. You'd never take me for -Mark's brother?"</p> - -<p>"I should think not. You're a big man and he's small: you talk -with a Yankee accent, and he speaks pure English. He's----"</p> - -<p>"Different to me in every way. That's a fact. I'm a naturalised -citizen of the U.S.A. and Mark's a Britisher. We've met only once, -twice, and again, Mr. Hill, but get on very well. There's only two -of us alive of the Parkins gang, so I guess we'd best be friendly, -till we marry and rear the next generation. I'm going to hitch up -with an English girl, and Mark--if I can persuade him--will marry -an American dollar heiress. Yes, sir, we'll square accounts with -the motherland that way."</p> - -<p>All the time Parkins talked, he pulled at his pipe, and enveloped -himself in a cloud of smoke. But his keen blue eyes were constantly -on Allen's face, and finally he stretched out a huge hand. "I guess -I've taken to you, some," said he, "catch on, and we'll be friends."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Allen, grasping the hand, "I'm sure we shall. I like -Mark."</p> - -<p>"Well then, just you like the American side of him, which is -Horace Parkins. I guess we'll drop the misters and get to -business, Hill."</p> - -<p>"I'm ready. What do you want to see me about?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Mark wrote to me as you'd got a mine of sorts, and wanted a -capitalist. I'm not a millionaire, but I can shell out a few dollars, -if y'think you can get the property cheap."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I think so. The Spaniard that owns it wants money and isn't very -sure of its value."</p> - -<p>"Tell me about that right along."</p> - -<p>Whereupon Hill detailed the story of the Indian and how the mine had -been worked by the Inca kings. He described the locality and the -chances of getting the silver to the coast: also spoke of the labour -required and the number of shares he and Mark intended to divide the -mine into. Horace listened, nodding gravely.</p> - -<p>"I see you've figured it out all right, Hill," said Parkins, "and I -guess I'll take a hand in the game. Give me a share and I'll engineer -the buying."</p> - -<p>"Good," said Allan, delighted, "we'll divide the mine into three equal -shares. You buy it, and Mark and I will work it."</p> - -<p>"Good enough. We won't want any one else to chip in. It's a deal."</p> - -<p>They shook hands on this, and then had a long talk about the West -Indies, which Horace, who had never been there, knew chiefly through -the glowing pages of <i>Westward Ho</i>.. "Though I guess the place has -changed since then," said he, "but the gold and silver's there right -enough, and maybe, if we looked long enough, we'd chance on that -golden Manoa Kingsley talks about."</p> - -<p>The talk drifted into more immediate topics, and Allen, much amused at -his gigantic companion's naïve ways of looking at things, asked him -about his life. Thereupon Horace launched out into a wild tale of -doings in Africa. He had been all through the war and had fought -therein. He had been up the Shire River, and all over the lion -country. He made money and lost it, so he said, and finally -managed to find a fortune. It was five o'clock before he ended, -and later he made a remark which made Allen jump: "So I just -thought when I got Mark's letter telling me you were in the old -country and about the mine, that I'd come home and see what kind -of man you were. I'm satisfied--oh yes, you bet. I'll trust you to -the death, for I size up folk uncommon quick, and you?"</p> - -<p>"I'll trust you also," said Allen, looking at the man's clear -eyes and responding to his true-hearted grip, "and in fact I -need a friend now, Mr. Parkins."</p> - -<p>"Call me Parkins, plain, without the Mister. Well, here I am, ready -to be your pal, while Mark's over the herring-pond. What's up? Do -you want me to cut a throat? Just say the word, and I'll do it. -Anything for a change, for I'm dead sick of this place ever since I -left the <i>Dunoon Castle</i>.."</p> - -<p>It was this speech which made Allen jump. "What, did you come home -in the <i>Dunoon Castle?</i>"</p> - -<p>"You bet I did, and a fine passage we had."</p> - -<p>"Did you know a passenger called Strode?"</p> - -<p>Parkins raised his immense bulk slightly, and looked sharply at -the questioner. "Do you mean the man who was murdered?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I suppose you read about the crime in the papers?"</p> - -<p>"That's so. Yes, I knew him very well. Better than any one on -board, I guess. We got along finely. Not a man I trusted," added -Parkins musingly, "but a clever sort of chap. Well?"</p> - -<p>"Did he ever tell you of his daughter?"</p> - -<p>"No. He never spoke of his private relations."</p> - -<p>"Well, he has a daughter, Miss Eva Strode. You must have read her name -in the papers when the case was reported."</p> - -<p>"I did," said Parkins after a pause; "yes?"</p> - -<p>"I'm engaged to her."</p> - -<p>Parkins rose and looked astonished. "That's a queer start."</p> - -<p>"You'll hear of something queerer if you will answer my questions."</p> - -<p>"What sort of questions?"</p> - -<p>Allen debated within himself if he should trust Parkins all in all. -It seemed a rash thing to do, and yet there was something about the -man which showed that he would not break faith. Horace was just the -sort of companion Allen needed to search after Butsey in the slums -of Whitechapel. It was no good telling him anything, unless all were -told, and yet Allen hesitated to bring in the name of his father. -Finally he resolved to say as little as he could about him, and -merely detail the broad facts of the murder, and of the theft of the -hand, without mentioning names. "Parkins," he said frankly and with -a keen look, "can I trust you?"</p> - -<p>"I guess so," said the big man serenely. "I mean what I say. You -can take my word without oaths, I reckon."</p> - -<p>"Very well, then," said Allen with a sudden impulse to make a clean -breast of it; "sit down again and answer a few questions."</p> - -<p>Horace dropped down heavily and loaded his pipe. While he was -lighting up, he listened to Allen's questions. But Allen did not -begin before he had explained the purpose of his inquiries.</p> - -<p>"I am engaged to Miss Strode," said Allen, "but she refuses to marry -me until I learn who killed her father."</p> - -<p>"Very right and just," nodded Parkins.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'm trying to hunt out the criminal, and I should like you to -help me."</p> - -<p>"I'm with you right along, Hill. Fire away with your questions."</p> - -<p>Allen began: "Did Mr. Strode ever tell you he had money?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. He made a lot in South Africa and not in the most -respectable way. I don't like talking ill of the dead, and of -the father of the girl you're going to make Mrs. Hill, but if I -am to be truthful----"</p> - -<p>"I want you to be, at all costs. The issues are too great for anything -false to be spoken."</p> - -<p>"Well then, I heard a lot about Strode in Africa before we steamed -together in the <i>Dunoon Castle</i>.. He made his money in shady ways."</p> - -<p>"Humph!" said Allen, "I'm not surprised, from what I've heard."</p> - -<p>"He was an I. D. B. if you want to get to facts."</p> - -<p>"What's that?" demanded Allen.</p> - -<p>"An illicit diamond buyer."</p> - -<p>"Can you explain?"</p> - -<p>"I guess so. Strode bought diamonds from any one who had them. If a -Kaffir stole a jewel, and many of them do steal, you bet, Strode -would buy it from him at a small price. He was on this lay for a -long time, but was never caught. And yet I don't know," said -Parkins half to himself, "that brute Jerry Train knew something of -his doings!"</p> - -<p>Allen almost leaped from his seat. "Jerry! was he a big red-headed -man--a ruffian?"</p> - -<p>"He was a bad lot all through--a horse-thief and I don't know what -else in the way of crime. He made South Africa too hot for him, -and came home steerage in the <i>Dunoon Castle</i>.. I saw him at times, -as I knew a heap about him, and he thieved from a pal of mine up -Bulawayo way. He seemed to suspect Strode of yanking diamonds out -of the country."</p> - -<p>"Did Strode tell you he possessed diamonds?"</p> - -<p>"No. He said he'd made money to the extent of forty thousand -pounds."</p> - -<p>"Did he carry the money with him?"</p> - -<p>Parkins shook his head. "I can't say. I should think he'd have -letters of credit. He'd a pocketbook he was always dipping into, -and talked of his money a lot."</p> - -<p>"A blue pocket-book with a crest?"</p> - -<p>"That's so. Do you know it?"</p> - -<p>"No. But that pocket-book was stolen from the body. At least it -was not found, so it must have been stolen."</p> - -<p>"Oh, and I guess Strode was murdered for the sake of the -pocket-book. But see here," said Horace shrewdly, "I've told you a -heap. Now, you cut along and reel out a yarn to me."</p> - -<p>The other man needed no second invitation. He laid aside his -pipe and told the story of the crime, suppressing only the -doings of his father. Horace listened and nodded at intervals.</p> - -<p>"I don't see clear after all," he said when Allen ended, "sure you've -told me everything?"</p> - -<p>The young man looked uneasy. "I've told you what I could."</p> - -<p>Parkins rose and stretched out his hand. "What you've told me will -never be repeated. Good-bye."</p> - -<p>"What for?" asked Allen, also rising.</p> - -<p>"Because you won't trust me. I can't straighten out this business, -unless you do."</p> - -<p>"The other thing I might tell isn't my own."</p> - -<p>"No go. If it concerns the murder it must be told. I don't work half -knowledge with any one. You can trust me."</p> - -<p>Allen hesitated. He wanted to tell all, for he felt sure that -Parkins would help him. But then it seemed terrible to reveal his -father's shame to a stranger. What was he to do?</p> - -<p>"See here, I'll tell--you everything, suppressing names."</p> - -<p>"Won't do," said the inflexible Parkins; "good-bye."</p> - -<p>"Will you give me a few hours to think over the matter?"</p> - -<p>"No. If I'm not to be trusted now, I'm not to be trusted at all."</p> - -<p>The young man bit his fingers. He couldn't let Parkins go, for he -knew about Strode and Red Jerry, and might aid the case a lot. It was -imperative that the truth should be discovered, else it might be that -his father would be put to open shame. Better, Allen thought, to tell -Parkins and get his aid, than risk the arrest of his father and see -the whole story in the papers. "I'll tell all," he said.</p> - -<p>"Good man," growled Parkins, his brow clearing.</p> - -<p>When in possession of all the facts, Parkins thought for a moment -and delivered his opinion: "Strode I take it was followed to the Red -Deeps by Jerry Train, and Jerry shot him and stole the pocket-book."</p> - -<p>"But the wooden hand?"</p> - -<p>"Merry's got it and he's in the gang. Hold on," said Parkins, "I'll -not give a straight opinion till I see this boy. We'll go down and -hunt him up. He'll give the show away."</p> - -<p>"But my father?" asked Allen, downcast.</p> - -<p>"He's a crank. I don't believe he mixed up in the biznai at all."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVIII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">THE FINDING OF BUTSEY</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>It did not take Allen long to learn something about Butsey. An -inquiry at the offices of the philanthropic people, who dealt with -the transfer of ragged boys to the country for fresh air, brought out -the fact that Butsey was a thief, and a sparrow of the gutter, who -lived in a certain Whitechapel den--address given--with a set of the -greatest ruffians in London.</p> - -<p>"It was a mere accident the boy came here," said the spectacled -gentleman who supplied the information; "we were sending out a number -of ragged children to Westhaven for a couple of days, and this boy -came and asked if he could go too. At first, we were not inclined to -accept him, as we knew nothing about him. But the boy is so clever -and amusing, that we consented he should go. He went with the rest to -Westhaven, but did not keep with those who looked after the poor -creatures. In fact, Mr. Hill," said the gentleman frankly, "Butsey -took French leave."</p> - -<p>"Where did he go?"</p> - -<p>"I can't tell you. But one of our men caught sight of Father Don, and -Red Jerry, at Westhaven--those are the ruffians Butsey lives with. He -might have gone with them."</p> - -<p>"Did you take the children down on a Wednesday?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. And then they came back, late the next day."</p> - -<p>Allen reflected that if Butsey sent the wire before four o'clock, he -must have gone back to London, and wondered where he got the money -for the fare. Then he must have come down again, in order to give the -lying message to Mrs. Merry. However, he told the philanthropist -nothing of this, but thanked him for his information. "I intend to -look this boy up," he said, when taking his leave.</p> - -<p>"Has he got into trouble?" asked the gentleman anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Well, not exactly. But I want to learn something from him relative to -a matter about which it is not necessary to be too precise. I assure -you, sir, Butsey will not come to harm."</p> - -<p>"He has come to harm enough already, poor lad." I tell you, Mr. -Hill, "that I should like to drag that boy out of the gutter, and -make him a decent member of society. He is sharp beyond his years, -but his talents are utilised in the wrong way----"</p> - -<p>"By Father Don, Red Jerry, and Co.," said Allen drily; "so I think."</p> - -<p>"One moment, Mr. Hill; if you go to the Perry Street den, take a plain -clothes policeman with you. Father Don is dangerous."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'll see to that," said Allen, confident in his own muscles and -in those of Parkins. "You couldn't get Butsey to come here?"</p> - -<p>"I fear not--I sadly fear not, Mr. Hill. The boy has never been near -us since he came back with the children from Westhaven."</p> - -<p>"He did come back with them, then?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes," said the philanthropist frankly, by the late train; "but -what he did in the meantime, and where he went, I can't say. He -refused to give an account of himself."</p> - -<p>"Shrewd little devil," said Allen; "but I think I know."</p> - -<p>"I trust it has nothing to do with the police," said the gentleman -anxiously; "a detective asked after Butsey. I gave him the address -of Father Don in Perry Street, but the lad could not be found. The -detective refused to say why the lad was wanted, and I hope he'll -not come to harm. If you find him, bring him to me, and I'll see -what I can do to save him. It's a terrible thing to think that an -immortal soul and a clever lad should remain in the depths."</p> - -<p>Allen assented politely, promised to do what he could towards -bringing about the reformation of Butsey, and went his way. He -privately thought that to make Butsey a decent member of society -would be next door to impossible, for the lad seemed to be quite a -criminal, and education might only make him the more dangerous to -the well-being of the community. However he reserved his opinion -on this point, and got back to his Woburn rooms to explain to -Horace. The big American--for he virtually was a Yankee--nodded -gravely.</p> - -<p>"We'll go down this very night," he said. "I guess we'd best put on -old togs, leave our valuables at home, and carry six-shooters."</p> - -<p>"Do you think that last is necessary?" asked Allen anxiously.</p> - -<p>"It's just as well to be on the safe side, Hill. If this boy is -employed by Father Don and his gang, he won't be let go without a -fight. Maybe he knows too much for the safety of the gang."</p> - -<p>"That's very probable," assented Hill drily; "however, we'll take -all precautions, and go to Perry Street."</p> - -<p>"This is what I call enjoyment," said Horace, stretching his long -limbs. "I'm not a quarrelsome man, but, by Gosh, I'm just spoiling -for a fight."</p> - -<p>"I think there's every chance we'll get what you want, Parkins."</p> - -<p>So the matter was arranged, and after dinner the two men changed -into shabby clothes. It was raining heavily, and they put on -overcoats, scarves, and wore slouch hats. Both carried revolvers, and -thus they felt ready for any emergency. As Allen knew London -comparatively well, he took the lead, and conducted Horace to -Aldgate Station by the underground railway. Here they picked up a cab -and went to Whitechapel. The driver knew Perry Street but refused -to go near it, on the plea that it was a dangerous locality. However, -he deposited the two near the place, and drove away in the rain, -leaving Allen and Horace in a somewhat dark street. A search for a -guide produced a ragged boy of the Butsey type, who volunteered to -show the way to Father Don's den. "You've got some swag to send up -the spout, gents both?" leered the brat, looking up to the big men -as they stood under a lamp-post.</p> - -<p>"Just so," said Horace quickly, thinking this a good excuse; "you -engineer us along, sonny, and we'll give you a shilling."</p> - -<p>"A bob?--that's good enough," said the urchin, and scampered down a -back street so quickly that they had some difficulty in keeping up -with him. Later on, when they caught him at the end of a -<i>cul-de-sac</i>., Allen gripped the guide by his wet shoulder. "Do you know -a boy called Butsey?"</p> - -<p>"Oh my eyes and ears, don't I just? Why, he's Father Don's pet. But -he's in disgrace now."</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Horace coolly.</p> - -<p>"Father Don sent him down the country, and he didn't turn up at the -hour he was told to. He's been whacked and put on bread and water," -said the brat, grinning, "worse luck for Father Don. Butsey'll put a -knife into him for that."</p> - -<p>"Good," whispered Allen to the American as they went on in the -darkness. "Butsey will have a grudge against Father Don, and will be -all the more ready to tell."</p> - -<p>"Humph! I'm not so sure. There's honour amongst thieves."</p> - -<p>They had no further time for conversation, for the guide turned down a -narrow lane leading off the <i>cul-de-sac</i>., and knocked at the door of a -ruined house with broken windows. A shrill voice inside asked who was -there.</p> - -<p>"Swell mobsmen with swag for the patrico," said the guide, whistling -shrilly. "Show us a light."</p> - -<p>The door opened, and a small pinched-looking girl appeared with a -candle. She examined the two men and then admitted them. When they -ventured within, she shut the door, which seemed to be very strong. -But Horace noticed a door on the left of the passage leading into an -empty room. He knew that one of the broken windows set in the street -wall gave light to this room, and resolved to make it a line of -retreat should they be too hardly pressed. Meantime the boy and girl -led the way along the passage and towards a trap-door. Here, steps -leading downward brought them to a large cellar filled with ragged -people of both sexes. There was a fire in a large chimney, which -seemed to have been constructed to roast an ox, and round this they -sat, their damp garments steaming in the heat. A curtain portioned off -a corner of the cellar, and when the strangers entered two shrill -voices were heard talking together angrily. But the thieves around -paid no attention.</p> - -<p>"Red Jerry," said Horace, touching Allen's arm, and he pointed to a -truculent-looking ruffian, almost as big as himself, who was lying on -a bed composed of old newspapers and day-bills. He seemed to be -drunk, for he breathed heavily and his pipe had fallen from his -fevered lips. "Nice man to tackle," muttered Horace.</p> - -<p>"Come along," said the guide, tugging at Allen's hand. "Father Don's -got some one in there, but he'll see you. What's the swag--silver?"</p> - -<p>"Never you mind," said Horace; "you find Butsey and I'll make it worth -your while."</p> - -<p>"Give us a sov. and I'll do it," said the brat. "I'm Billy, and fly at -that."</p> - -<p>"Good. A sov. you shall have."</p> - -<p>The boy whistled again and some of the thieves cursed him. He then -pushed Horace towards the ragged curtain behind which the shrill voices -sounded, and vanished. The two were now fully committed to the adventure.</p> - -<p>Curiously enough, the ruffians in the cellar did not take much notice -of the strangers. Perhaps they were afraid of Father Don, seeing that -the two came to dispose of swag, and at all events they apparently -thought that Father Don could protect himself. Meanwhile the keen ears -of Horace heard a deeper voice, something like a man's, mingling with -the shrill ones of the other speakers. Without a moment's hesitation, -and anxious to get the business over, the big American dragged aside -the curtain and entered.</p> - -<p>Allen and he found themselves before a narrow door. On entering this, -for it was open, they saw an old man with a white beard sitting at a -small table with papers before him. Near, was a small sharp-faced man, -and at the end of the table sat a woman dressed in black.</p> - -<p>"It won't do, Father Don," the woman was saying in deep tones; "you -told that brat to rob me. Give it up, I tell you."</p> - -<p>"Give up what?" asked Father Don sharply. "How can I give up anything, -when I don't know what it is?"</p> - -<p>"Butsey knows," said the woman. "Where is he?"</p> - -<p>"On bread and water in the attic," said the small man with a shrill -laugh; "he's having his pride brought down."</p> - -<p>"You'd better take care of Butsey," said the woman drily, "or he'll -sell you."</p> - -<p>"Let him try," snarled the benevolent-looking old gentleman. "Red -Jerry's his father and will break his back."</p> - -<p>This much the two gentlemen heard, and it was then that the American -appeared in the narrow doorway. The woman started and looked at him. -He eyed her in turn and saw a fine-looking creature with dark eyes, -and of a full voluptuous beauty hardly concealed by the plain dark -robes she wore. Allen glanced over Parkins's shoulder and uttered an -ejaculation. "Why, Miss Lorry," he said.</p> - -<p>The woman started and rose quickly, overturning the table. The small -lamp on it, fell and went out. There were a few curses from Father -Don and a shrill expostulation from the small man. In the hot -darkness a dress brushed past the two men who were now in the room, -and a strong perfume saluted their nostrils. Horace could have -stopped Miss Lorry from going, but he had no reason to do so, and she -slipped out while Father Don was groping for the lamp, and the other -man struck a match. As the blue flare spurted up, the man saw the two -who had entered. "What's this?" he cried with an oath, which it is not -necessary to set down; "who are you?"</p> - -<p>"We've come about business," said Horace; "don't you move till the old -man's got the lamp alight, or you'll get hurt."</p> - -<p>"It's the 'tecs," said Father Don savagely.</p> - -<p>"I guess not. We've come to do business."</p> - -<p>This remark seemed to stimulate the curiosity of the two men, and -they refrained from a shout which would have brought in all the -riff-raff without. Allen congratulated himself, that Parkins had -roused this curiosity. He had no desire to fight in a dark cellar -with his back to the wall against a score of ruffians. In a few -minutes the lamp was lighted. "Turn it up, Foxy," said Father Don; -"and now, gentlemen," he added politely, "how did you get here?"</p> - -<p>"A boy called Billy brought us," said Allen stepping forward. "I fear -we've frightened the lady away."</p> - -<p>"Let her go, the jade," said Foxy shrilly; "there would have been a -heap of trouble if she'd remained," and he confirmed this speech with -several oaths.</p> - -<p>Father Don did not swear. He spoke in a clear, refined, and -educated voice, and apparently was a well-educated man who had -fallen into the depths through some rascality. But his face looked -most benevolent, and no one would have suspected him of being a -ruffian of the worst. He eyed Allen piercingly, and also his -companion. "Well, gentlemen," he asked quietly, "and what can I do -for you?" Horace sat down heavily and pulled out his pipe. "We may -as well talk comfortably," he said. "Sit down, Hill."</p> - -<p>"Hill?" said Father Don with a start, while Foxy opened his small -eyes--"not of Wargrove?"</p> - -<p>"The same," said Allen quietly. "How do you know me?"</p> - -<p>"I know a good many things," said Father Don calmly.</p> - -<p>"Do you know who shot Strode?"</p> - -<p>Foxy rose as though moved by a spring. "You're on that lay, are you?" -said he shrilly; "then you've come to the wrong shop."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I guess not, said Horace lazily--to the right shop. You see, -Mister," he went on to the elder ruffian, "we want that wooden hand."</p> - -<p>"What wooden hand?" asked Father Don. "If you mean----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do mean that," said Allen quickly; "you brought it to Mr. Mask -to get the money."</p> - -<p>"Did I?" said Father Don coolly and eyeing the young man; "well, maybe -I did. But I didn't take it from the dead?"</p> - -<p>Allen coloured. "Merry took it," he said.</p> - -<p>"Oh no, he didn't," sneered Foxy. "Merry got it from Butsey, who dug -it up after it had been planted by----"</p> - -<p>"Stop," said Allen, rising. "Father Don," he added, turning to -the old man, "you seem to be a gentleman----"</p> - -<p>"I was once. But what's that got to do with this?"</p> - -<p>"Stop this man," he pointed to Foxy, "from mentioning names."</p> - -<p>"I'll stop everything, if you'll tell us where the diamonds are to be -found," said Father Don.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you mean," said Allen.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, you do. You know everything about this case, and you've come -here to get the hand. Well then, you won't. Only while I hold that -hand can I get the diamonds."</p> - -<p>"Where will you get them?"</p> - -<p>"That's what I want you to tell me."</p> - -<p>"I guess Red Jerry knows," said Horace sharply; "he took the diamonds -from the dead body of the man he shot."</p> - -<p>"Meaning Strode," said Foxy, with a glance at Father Don.</p> - -<p>"Jerry didn't shoot him," said that venerable fraud.</p> - -<p>"I surmise he did," said Parkins. "Ask him in."</p> - -<p>"How do you know about Jerry?" asked Father Don uneasily.</p> - -<p>"I sailed along o' him, and saved him from being lynched as a -horse-thief. If you won't call him in, I'll do so myself."</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue," said Father Don, rising and looking very -benevolent, "you take too much upon yourself. I'm king here, and if I -say the word neither of you will go out alive."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I guess so," said Horace coolly, "we don't come unprepared," and -in a moment he swung out his Derringer. "Sit still, Father Christmas," -said Parkins, levelling this, "or you'll get hurt."</p> - -<p>Seeing Parkins's action, Allen produced his weapon and covered Foxy, -so there sat the kings of the castle, within hail of their ruffianly -crew, unable to call for assistance.</p> - -<p>"And now we'll call in Jerry," said Allen coolly. "Sing out, Parkins."</p> - -<p>But before the big American could raise a shout there was a sudden -noise outside. A shrill voice was heard crying that the police were -coming, and then ensued a babel. Father Don seized the opportunity -when Parkins's eye was wavering to knock the revolver out of his -hand. The American thereupon made a clutch at his throat, while -Allen tripped Foxy up. A small boy dashed into the room. He was -white-faced, stunted, red-haired, and had but one eye. At once he -made for Parkins, squealing for the police. When he got a grip of -Horace's hand he dropped his voice:</p> - -<p>"Ketch t'other cove's hand, and mine," said the boy, and then with a -dexterous movement overturned the table, whereby the lamp went out -again for the second time. Parkins seized the situation at once, and -while Father Don, suddenly released, scrambled on the floor, and made -use for the first time of bad language, he grabbed Allen's hand and -dragged him toward the door. Horace in his turn was being drawn -swiftly along by the small boy. The outer cellar was filled with a -mass of screaming, squalling, swearing humanity, all on the alert for -the advent of the police. The boy drew the two men through the crowd, -which did not know whence to expect the danger. Horace hurled his way -through the mob by main strength, and Allen followed in his -devastating wake. Shortly, they reached the trap-door, and ran along -the passage. The boy pulled them into the side-room Horace had noted -when he came to the den.</p> - -<p>"Break the winder," said the boy to Parkins.</p> - -<p>The American did not need further instructions, and wrapping his -coat round his arm he smashed the frail glass. From below came -confusedly the noise of the startled thieves. But Horace first, -Allen next, and the boy last, dropped on to the pavement. Then -another lad appeared, and all four darted up the street. In ten -minutes they found themselves blown but safe, in the chief -thoroughfare and not far from a policeman, who looked suspiciously -at them.</p> - -<p>"There," said the last-joined boy, "you're saif. Butsey saived y'."</p> - -<p>"Butsey?" said Allen, looking at the stunted, one-eyed lad.</p> - -<p>"That's me," said Butsey with a grin; "y'were near being scragged by -th' ole man. If y'd called Red Jerry, he'd ha' done fur y'. Miss Lorry -told me t'get you out, and I've done it."</p> - -<p>"But I reckon the old Father Christmas told us you were locked up."</p> - -<p>"Was," said Butsey laconically; "in th' attic--bread an' water. I -ain't goin' to work fur sich a lot any more, so I dropped out of th' -winder, and climbed the roof--down the spout. In the street I met Miss -Lorry--she told me there was fightin' below, so'--he winked.</p> - -<p>"Then there was no police?" said Allen, admiring the boy's cleverness.</p> - -<p>"Not much. But they're allays expecting of th' peelers," said Butsey -coolly; "'twasn't difficult to get 'em rizzed with fright. But you look -here, Misters, you clear out now, or they'll be after you."</p> - -<p>"You come also, Butsey."</p> - -<p>"Not me. I'm agoin' to doss along o' Billy here. I'll come an' see you -at Wargrove and bring the wooden hand with me."</p> - -<p>"What," said Allen, "do you know----?"</p> - -<p>"I knows a lot, an' I'm going to split," said Butsey. "Give us a -bob"; and when Allen tossed him one, he spat on it for luck. "See y' -m' own time," said Butsey. "I'm goin' to turn respectable an' split. -Th' ole man ain't goin' to shut me up for nix. 'Night," and catching -his companion's arm, both boys ran off into the darkness.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIX</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">MRS. MERRY'S VISITORS</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>The visit to the den was certainly a fiasco. Those who had ventured -into those depths, had, on the face of it, gained nothing. What would -have happened had not Butsey raised the false alarm it is impossible -to say. According to the boy, Jerry would have turned disagreeable, -and probably there would have been a free fight. As it was, Allen and -Horace came back without having achieved their object. They were as -far as ever from the discovery of the truth.</p> - -<p>"And yet, I don't know," said Allen hopefully, "somehow I feel -inclined to trust Butsey. He's got some scheme in his head."</p> - -<p>"Huh," said Horace heavily, "y' can't trust a boy like that. He's got -his monkey up because the old man dropped on him, but like as not, -he'll change his tune and go back. Father Don 'ull make things square. -He can't afford to lose a promising young prig like Butsey."</p> - -<p>"I believe the boy will come to Wargrove as he said," insisted Allen.</p> - -<p>"In that case I guess we'd better go down too. Would you mind putting -me up for a few days?"</p> - -<p>"I'll be glad, and I don't think my father will object. It is just as -well you should see him."</p> - -<p>"That's why I want to come down," said Parkins cheerfully; "y'see, -Hill, the business has to be worked out somehow. I think your father's -got a crazy fit, and there isn't anything he's got to be afraid of. -But he's shivering about some one, and who that some one is, we must -learn. Better we should sift the matter ourselves than let the police -handle it."</p> - -<p>Allen turned pale. "God forbid," said he; "I want the authorities kept -away."</p> - -<p>So Allen wrote a letter to his father, asking if he could bring down -Parkins for a few days. The reply, strange to say, came from Mrs. -Hill, and the reading of it afforded Allen some thought.</p> - -<p>"There is no need to ask your father anything," she wrote, "he has -given everything into my hands, even to the money. What the reason -is I can't say, as he refuses to speak. He seems very much afraid, and -remains in his own rooms--the Japanese apartments. Mr. Mask also -refused to speak, saying my husband would tell me himself if he felt -inclined, but I can learn nothing. I am glad you are coming back, -Allen, as I am seriously anxious. Of course you can bring Mr. -Parkins. The house is large and he will not need to go near your -father, though, it may be, the sight of a new face would do your -father good. At all events come down and let us talk over things."</p> - -<p>So Allen and Horace went to Westhaven and drove over to Wargrove. On -the way Allen stopped the brougham, which was driven by Harry -Jacobs, and took Horace to the Red Deeps to see the spot where the -murder had been committed. When they got back--as the day was -wet--their boots were covered with the red mud of the place. Jacobs -saw this, and begged to speak to Allen before he got in.</p> - -<p>"I say, Mr. Allen," he whispered, so that Parkins, now in the -brougham, should not hear, "do you remember when I drove you to Misery -Castle I said I'd tell you something?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you know I clean the boots, sir? Well, master's boots were -covered with that red mud, on the day after----"</p> - -<p>"I know all about that," interrupted Allen, feeling his blood run cold -as he thought what trouble might come through the boy's chatter; "my -father explained. You need not mention it."</p> - -<p>"No, sir," said Jacobs obediently enough. He was devoted to Allen, -for a queer reason that Allen had once thrashed him for being -impertinent. There was no danger that he would say anything, but on -the way to Wargrove the groom wondered if his master had anything to -do with the commission of the crime. Only in the direction of the Red -Deeps could such mud be found, and Jacobs had no doubt but that Mr. -Hill senior had been to the place.</p> - -<p>When they arrived at "The Arabian Nights" Mr. Hill at first refused -to see Allen, but consented to do so later. When the young man -entered the Japanese rooms, he was alarmed to see how ill his father -looked. The man was wasting to skin and bone, his face was as white -as death, and he started nervously at every noise.</p> - -<p>"You must see Dr. Grace," said Allen.</p> - -<p>"No," said Hill, "I won't--I shan't--I can't. How can you ask me to -see any one when I'm in such danger?"</p> - -<p>"You're in no danger here," said his son soothingly.</p> - -<p>"So your mother says, and I can trust her. Let me keep to my own -rooms, Allen, and leave me alone."</p> - -<p>"You don't mind Parkins being in the house?"</p> - -<p>"Why should I?--the house has nothing to do with me. I have given -everything over to your mother's care. Mask has drawn up my will--it -is signed and sealed, and he has it. Everything has been left to your -mother. I left nothing to you," he added maliciously.</p> - -<p>"I don't want anything, so long as my mother is safe."</p> - -<p>"She is safe," said his father gloomily, "but am I? They'll find me -out and kill me----"</p> - -<p>"Who will?" asked Allen sharply.</p> - -<p>"Don't speak like that--your voice goes through my head. Go away and -amuse your friend. Your mother is mistress here--I am nothing, I -only want my bite and sup--leave me alone--oh, how weary I am!"</p> - -<p>So the miserable man maundered on. He had quite lost his -affectations and looked worn out. He mostly lay on the sofa all -day, and for the rest of the time he paced the room ceaselessly. -Seeing him in this state Allen sought his mother.</p> - -<p>"Something must be done," he said.</p> - -<p>"What can be done?" said Mrs. Hill, who looked firmer than ever. -"He seems to be afraid of something. What it is I don't know--the -illness is mental, and you can't minister to a mind diseased. -Perhaps you can tell me what this all means, Allen."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you what I know," said Allen wearily, for the anxiety was -wearing out his nerves, and he thereupon related all that had taken -place since he left Wargrove. Mrs. Hill listened in silence.</p> - -<p>"Of course, unless your father speaks we can do nothing," she said at -last; "do you think he is in his right mind, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"No. He has always been eccentric," said the son, "and now, as he is -growing old he is becoming irresponsible. I am glad he has given -everything over to you, mother, and has made his will."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Mask induced him to do that," said Mrs. Hill thankfully; "if he -had remained obstinately fixed about the money I don't know what I -should have done. But now that everything is in my hands I can manage -him better. Let him stay in his rooms and amuse himself, Allen. If it -is necessary that he should see the doctor I shall insist on his doing -so. But at present I think it is best to leave him alone."</p> - -<p>"Well, mother, perhaps you are right. And in any case Parkins and I -will not trouble him or you much. I'll introduce him to Mrs. Palmer, -and she'll take him off our hands."</p> - -<p>"Of course she will," said Mrs. Hill rather scornfully; "the woman's -a born flirt. So you don't know yet who killed Eva's father, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"No," said he, shaking his head. "I must see Eva and tell her of my -bad fortune."</p> - -<p>No more was said at the time, and life went on fairly well in the -house. Under Mrs. Hill's firm sway the management of domestic affairs -was much improved, and the servants were satisfied, which they had -never been, when Lawrence Hill was sole master. Parkins was much -liked by Mrs. Hill, and easily understood that Mr. Hill, being an -invalid, could not see him. She put it this way to save her husband's -credit. She was always attending to him, and he clung to her like a -frightened child to its mother. There was no doubt that the fright -over the parcel had weakened a mind never very strong.</p> - -<p>Allen and Parkins walked, rode, golfed on the Shanton Links, and -paid frequent visits to Mrs. Palmer's place. Allen took the -American there within a couple of days of his return, and the -widow forthwith admired Parkins. "A charming giant," she described -him, and Horace reciprocated. "I like her no end," he confided to -Allen; "she's a clipper. Just the wife for me."</p> - -<p>Eva laughed when Allen told her this, and remarked that if things went -on as they were doing there was every chance that Mrs. Palmer would -lose her heart.</p> - -<p>"But that's ridiculous, Eva," said Allen, "they have known each other -only five days."</p> - -<p>"Well, we fell in love in five minutes," said Eva, smiling, which -provocative remark led to an exchange of kisses.</p> - -<p>The two were seated in the drawing-room of the villa. They had -enjoyed a very good dinner, and had now split into couples. Allen -and Eva remained in the drawing-room near the fire, while Parkins -and Mrs. Palmer played billiards. It was a chill, raw evening, but -the room looked bright and cheerful. The lovers were very happy -being together again, and especially at having an hour to -themselves. Mrs. Palmer was rather exacting, and rarely let Eva out -of her sight.</p> - -<p>"But she is really kind," said Eva, turning her calm face to Allen; -"no one could be kinder."</p> - -<p>"Except me, I hope," said Allen, crossing the hearth-rug and seating -himself by her side. "I want to speak seriously, Eva."</p> - -<p>"Oh dear," she said in dismay; "is it about our marriage?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I have arranged the money business with Horace Parkins, and it -is necessary I should go to South America as soon as possible. If I -don't, the mine may be sold to some one else."</p> - -<p>"But can't Mr. Mark Parkins buy it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, he could, but Horace wants to go out, so as to be on the -spot, and I must go with him. It's my one chance of making a -fortune, for the mine is sure to turn out a great success. As I want -to marry you, Eva, I must make money. There's no chance, so far as I -can see, of your getting that forty thousand pounds Lord Saltars -spoke of."</p> - -<p>"Then you really think, Allen, that there is money?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain of it--in the form of diamonds. But we'll talk of that -later. Meantime I want to say that, as you wish it, we'll put off -our marriage for a year. You can stay here with Mrs. Palmer, and -I'll go next month to South America with Horace Parkins."</p> - -<p>"But what about my father's death?"</p> - -<p>"I hope that we'll learn the truth within the next three weeks," -said Allen. "Everything turns on this boy Butsey. He knows the -truth."</p> - -<p>"But will he tell it?"</p> - -<p>"I think he will. The lad is clever but venomous. The way in which -he has been treated by his father and Don has made him bitter -against them. Also, after the false alarm he gave the other night to -get Parkins and me out of the mess, he can't very well go back to that -place. The old man would murder him; and I don't fancy the poor little -wretch would receive much sympathy from his father."</p> - -<p>"What do you think of him, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"My dear, I don't know enough about him to speak freely. From -what the philanthropist in Whitechapel says, I think the boy is -very clever, and that his talents might be made use of. He is -abominably treated by the brutes he lives with--why, his eye was put -out by his father. But the boy has turned on the gang. He burnt -his boats when he raised that alarm, and I am quite sure in his -own time, he will come down here and turn King's evidence."</p> - -<p>"About what?"</p> - -<p>"About the murder. The boy knows the truth. It's my opinion that Red -Jerry killed your father, Eva."</p> - -<p>"How do you make that out?" she asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Well, Red Jerry knew of your father in Africa and knew that he -was buying diamonds." Allen suppressed the fact of Strode's being -an I. D. B. "He followed him home in the <i>Dunoon Castle</i>., and then -went to tell Foxy and Father Don at Whitechapel. They came down to -Westhaven and tracked your father to the Red Deeps, and there shot -him. I can't understand why they did not take the wooden hand -then, though."</p> - -<p>"Who did take the hand?" asked Eva.</p> - -<p>"My father. Yes," said Allen sadly, "you may look astonished and -horrified, Eva, but it was my unhappy father. He is not in his -right mind, Eva, for that is the only way to account for his strange -behaviour;" and then Allen rapidly told Eva details.</p> - -<p>"Oh," said the girl when he finished, "he must be mad, Allen. I don't -see why he should act in that way if he was not. Your father has -always been an excitable, eccentric man, and this trouble of my -father's death has been too much for him. I quite believe he intended -to kill my father, and thank God he did not--that would have parted us -for ever. But the excitement has driven your father mad, so he is not -so much to blame as you think."</p> - -<p>"I am glad to hear you say so, darling," said the poor young fellow, -"for it's been like a nightmare, to think that my father should -behave in such a manner. I dreaded telling you, but I thought it was -best to do so."</p> - -<p>"I am very glad you did," she replied, putting her arms round him; -"oh, don't worry, Allen. Leave my father's murder alone. Go out to -Bolivia, buy this mine, and when you have made your fortune come back -for me. I'll be waiting for you here, faithful and true."</p> - -<p>"But you want to know who killed Mr. Strode?"</p> - -<p>"I've changed my mind," she answered quickly, "the affair seems -to be so mysterious that I think it will never be solved. Still I -fancy you are right: Red Jerry killed my father for the sake of -the diamonds."</p> - -<p>"He did not get them if he did," said Allen, "else he and Father Don -would not have gone to see Mask and thus have risked arrest. No, my -dear Eva, the whole secret is known to Butsey. He can tell the -truth. If he keeps his promise, and comes here we shall know all: if -he does not, we'll let the matter alone. I'll go to Bolivia about -this business, and return to marry you."</p> - -<p>"And then we'll bury the bad old past," said Eva, "and begin a new -life, darling. But, Allen, do you think Miss Lorry knows anything?"</p> - -<p>"What, that circus woman? I can't say. It was certainly queer she -should have been in that den. What a woman for your cousin to marry."</p> - -<p>"I don't know if he will marry after all," said Eva.</p> - -<p>"I believe old Lady Ipsen will stop the marriage."</p> - -<p>"How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"Because she wrote to say she was coming to see me. She says she will -come unexpectedly, as she has something to tell me."</p> - -<p>Allen coloured. He hoped to avoid old Lady Ipsen as he did not -forget that she had accused his mother of stealing the Delham -heirloom. However, he merely nodded and Eva went on: "Of course I am -willing to be civil to her and shall see her. But she's a horrid old -woman, Allen, and has behaved very badly to me. I am her -granddaughter, and she should have looked after me. I won't let her -do so now. Well, Allen, that's one piece of news I had to tell you. -The next is about Giles Merry."</p> - -<p>"What about him?"</p> - -<p>"I received a letter from Shanton written by Miss Lorry. That was when -you were away. She sent it over by Butsey."</p> - -<p>"What! Was that boy here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. When you were away. He delivered it at the door and went. I -only knew it was Butsey from the description, and by that time the -boy was gone. Had I seen him I should have asked Wasp to keep him -here, till you came back."</p> - -<p>"I understand," said Allen thoughtfully. "Miss Lorry sent for Butsey. -He was told to return to Perry Street, Whitechapel, within a certain -time and did not. For that, Father Don shut him up in the attic and -fed him on bread and water. The treatment made Butsey rebellious. But -what had Miss Lorry to say?"</p> - -<p>"She wrote that if Giles Merry worried me I was to let her know and -she'd stop him doing so."</p> - -<p>Allen looked astonished. "Why should Giles worry you?" he asked -indignantly.</p> - -<p>"I can't say. He hasn't come to see me yet, and if he does, of -course I would rather you dealt with him than Miss Lorry. I want to -have nothing to do with her."</p> - -<p>"Still, she's not a bad sort," said Allen after a pause, "she saved -our lives on that night by sending Butsey to get us out of the den. -Humph! If she met Butsey on that night I wonder if she asked him to -return what he'd stolen?"</p> - -<p>"What was that?" asked Eva.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Horace Parkins and I overheard her complaining, that -Butsey, when down seeing her, had stolen something. She refused to say -what it was and then bolted when she saw me. But what has Giles Merry -to do with her?"</p> - -<p>"Cain told me that Giles was the 'strong man' of Stag's Circus."</p> - -<p>"Oh, and Miss Lorry knows him as a fellow artiste. Humph! I daresay -she is aware of something queer about him. From the sending of that -parcel, I believe Giles is mixed up with Father Don's lot, and by -Jove, Eva, I think Miss Lorry must have something to do with them -also! We've got to do with a nice lot, I must say. And they're all -after the diamonds. I shouldn't wonder if Butsey had them, after all. -He's just the kind of young scamp who would get the better of the -elder ruffians. Perhaps he has the diamonds safely hidden, and is -leaving the gang, so as to turn respectable. He said he wanted to cut -his old life. Yes"--Allen slapped his knee--"Eva, I believe Butsey -has the diamonds. For all I know he may have shot your father."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Allen," said Eva, turning pale, "that lad."</p> - -<p>"A boy can kill with a pistol as surely as if he were a man, and -Butsey has no moral scruples. However, we'll wait till he comes and -then learn what we can. Once I get hold of him he shan't get away -until I know everything. As to Merry, if he comes, you let me know and -I'll break his confounded neck."</p> - -<p>"I believe Nanny would thank you if you did," said Eva; the poor -woman is in a terrible fright. "He wrote saying he was coming to -see her."</p> - -<p>"She needn't have anything to do with him."</p> - -<p>"I told her so. But she looks on the man as her husband, bad as he is, -and has old-fashioned notions about obeying him. If he wasn't her -husband she wouldn't mind, but as it is----" Eva shrugged her -shoulders.</p> - -<p>They heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Shortly the -footman entered. "There's a woman to see you, miss," he said to Eva, -holding the door open. "Mrs. Merry, miss."</p> - -<p>"What!" cried Eva; "show her in."</p> - -<p>"She won't come, miss. She's in the hall."</p> - -<p>"Come, Allen," said the girl, and they went out into the hall, where -Mrs. Merry with a scared face was sitting. She rose and came forward -in tears, and with sopping clothes, owing to her walk through the -heavy rain.</p> - -<p>"I ran all the way", Miss Eva. "I'm in such sorrow. Giles has come."</p> - -<p>"What, your husband?" said Allen.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and worse. I found this on the doorstep." She drew from under -her shawl the wooden hand!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XX</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">AN AMAZING CONFESSION</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Merry were seated the next day in the kitchen having a -long chat. It was not a pleasant one, for Mrs. Merry was weeping as -usual, and reproaching her husband. Giles had been out to see his old -cronies in the village, and consequently had imbibed sufficient -liquor to make him quarrelsome. The first thing he did, when he flung -himself into a chair, was to grumble at the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Why should we sit here, Selina?" he asked; "it's a blamed dull hole, -and I'm accustomed to drawing-rooms."</p> - -<p>"You can't go into the drawing-room," said Mrs. Merry, rocking and -dabbing her red eyes with the corner of her apron. "Miss Eva is in -there with a lady. They don't want to be disturbed."</p> - -<p>"Who is the lady?" demanded Signor Antonio, alias Mr. Merry.</p> - -<p>"Lady Ipsen. She's Miss Eva's grandmother and have called to see her. -What about, I'm sure I don't know, unless it's to marry her to Lord -Saltars, not that I think much of him."</p> - -<p>"Lady Ipsen--old Lady Ipsen?" said Giles slowly, and his eyes -brightened; "she's an old devil. I knew her in the days when I and -Hill and Strode enjoyed ourselves."</p> - -<p>"And bad old days they were," moaned Mrs. Merry; "you'd have been a -better man, Giles, if it hadn't been for that Strode. As for the -jelly-fish, he was just a shade weaker than you. Both of you were -under the thumb of Strode, wicked man that he was, and so cruel to his -wife, just as you are, Giles, though you mayn't think so. But if I -die----"</p> - -<p>"You will, if you go on like this," said Merry, producing his pipe; -"this is a nice welcome. Old Lady Ipsen," he went on, and laughed in -so unpleasant a manner, that his wife looked up apprehensively.</p> - -<p>"What wickedness are you plotting now?" she asked timidly.</p> - -<p>"Never you mind. The marriage of Lord Saltars," he went on with a -chuckle. "Ho! he's going to marry Miss Lorry."</p> - -<p>"So they say. But I believe Lady Ipsen wants to stop that marriage, -and small blame to her, seeing what a man he----"</p> - -<p>"Hold your jaw, Selina. I can't hear you talking all day. You get me -riz and you'll have bad time, old girl. So go on rocking and crying -and hold that red rag of yours. D'ye hear?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Giles--but Lord Saltars----"</p> - -<p>"He's going to marry Miss Lorry, if I let him."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry allowed the apron to fall from her eyes in sheer -amazement. "If you let him?" she repeated; "lor', Giles, you can't -stop his lordship from----"</p> - -<p>"I can stop <i>her</i>.," said Merry, who seemed determined never to let his -wife finish a sentence; "and I've a mind to, seeing how nasty she's -trying to make herself." He rose. "I'll see Miss Eva and make -trouble."</p> - -<p>"If you do, Mr. Allen will interfere," said Mrs. Merry vigorously. -"I knew you'd make trouble. It's in your nature. But Miss Lorry -wrote to Miss Eva and said she'd interfere if you meddled with what -ain't your business."</p> - -<p>Giles shook off the hand his wife had laid on his arm, and dropped -into a chair. He seemed dumfoundered by the information. "She'll -interfere, will she?" said he, snarling, and with glittering eyes. -"Like her impudence. She can't hurt me in any way----"</p> - -<p>"She may say you killed Strode," said Mrs. Merry.</p> - -<p>Giles raised a mighty fist with so evil a face, that the woman cowered -in her chair. Giles smiled grimly and dropped his arm.</p> - -<p>"You said before, as I'd killed Strode. Well then, I didn't."</p> - -<p>"How do I know that?" cried his wife spiritedly; "you can strike me, -but speak the truth I will. Bad as you are, I don't want to see you -hanged, and hanged you will be, whatever you may say. I heard from -Cain that you talked to Strode on the Wednesday night he was killed. -You met him at the station, when he arrived by the six-thirty, -and----"</p> - -<p>"What's that got to do with the murder?" snapped Giles savagely. "I -talked to him only as a pal."</p> - -<p>"Your wicked London friends were there too," said Mrs. Merry; "oh, -Cain told me of the lot you're in with; Father Don, Foxy, and Red -Jerry--they were all down at Westhaven, and that boy Butsey too, as -lied to me. You sent him here to lie. Cain said so."</p> - -<p>"I'll break Cain's head if he chatters. What if my pals were at -Westhaven? what if I did speak to Strode----?"</p> - -<p>"You was arranging to have him shot," said Mrs. Merry, "and shot him -yourself for all I know."</p> - -<p>Signor Antonio leaped, and taking his wife by the shoulders, shook -her till her head waggled. "There," he said, while she gasped, "you -say much more and I'll knock you on the head with a poker, you -poll-parrot. I was doing my turn at the circus at the time Strode -was shot, if he was shot at nine on Wednesday as the doctor said. I -saw the evidence in the paper. You can't put the crime on me."</p> - -<p>"Then your pals did it."</p> - -<p>"No, they didn't. They wanted the diamonds, it's true----"</p> - -<p>"They struck him down and robbed him."</p> - -<p>"You said they shot him just now," sneered Giles with an evil face, -"don't know your own silly mind, it seems. Gar'n, you fool, there was -nothing on him to rob. If my pals had shot him, they'd have collared -the wooden hand. That was the token to get the diamonds, as Red Jerry -said. But Mask hasn't got them, and though Father Don did open the -hand he found nothing."</p> - -<p>"Open the hand?" questioned Mrs. Merry curiously.</p> - -<p>"Yes. We found out--I found out, and in a way which ain't got -nothing to do with you, that the hand could be opened. It was quite -empty. Then Father Don put it aside, and that brat Butsey prigged -it. Much good may it do him."</p> - -<p>"The wooden hand was put on the doorstep last night," said Mrs. Merry, -"and I gave it to Miss Eva."</p> - -<p>The man's face grew black. "Oh, you did, did you," he said, "instead -of giving it to your own lawful husband? I've a mind to smash -you," he raised his fist again, and his poor wife winced; then he -changed his mind and dropped it. "But you ain't worth a blow, you -white-faced screeching cat. I'll see Miss Eva and make her give -up the hand myself. See if I don't."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Allen will interfere."</p> - -<p>"Let him," snarled Merry; "I know something as will settle him. I -want that hand, and I'm going to have it. Get those diamonds I -will, wherever they are. I believe Butsey's got 'em. He's just -the sort of little devil as would have opened that hand, and -found the paper inside, telling where the diamonds were."</p> - -<p>"But did he have the hand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he did. He dug up the hand--never mind where--and brought -it to me. It was empty then. Yes, I believe Butsey has the -diamonds, so the hand will be no go. Miss Eva can keep it if she -likes, or bury it along with that infernal Strode, who was a -mean cuss to round on his pals the way he did."</p> - -<p>"Ah! he was a bad man," sighed Mrs. Merry; "and did he----?"</p> - -<p>"Shut up and mind your own business," said Giles in surly tones. -He thought he had said too much. "It's that Butsey I must look -for. He stole the hand from Father Don and left it on your -doorstep, for Miss Eva, I suppose. He must be in the place, so -I'll look for him. I know the brat's playing us false, but his -father's got a rod in pickle for him, and----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Giles, Giles, you'll get into trouble again. That Wasp----"</p> - -<p>"I'll screw his neck if he meddles with me," said the strong man -savagely; "see here, Selina, I'm not going to miss a chance of making -a fortune. Those diamonds are worth forty thousand pounds, and -Butsey's got them. I want money to hunt him down and to do--other -things," said Giles, hesitating, "have you got five hundred?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mrs. Merry with spirit, "and you shouldn't have it if I had. -You're my husband, Giles, worse luck, and so long as you behave -yourself, I'll give you roof and board, though you are not a nice -man to have about the house, but money you shan't have. I'll see Mr. -Mask first. He's looking after my property, and if you----"</p> - -<p>"I'll do what I like," said Giles, wincing at the name of Mask; "if I -wasn't your husband, you'd chuck me, I 'spose."</p> - -<p>"I would," said Mrs. Merry, setting her mouth, "but you're -married to me, worse luck. I can't get rid of you. See here, -Giles, you go away and leave me and Cain alone, and I'll give you -five pounds."</p> - -<p>"I want five hundred," said Giles, "I'll stop here as long as I like. -I'm quite able to save myself from being accused of Strode's murder. -As to Cain," Giles chuckled, "he's taken up with a business you won't -like, Selina?"</p> - -<p>"What is it?--oh, what is it?" gasped Mrs. Merry, clasping her hands.</p> - -<p>"The Salvation Army."</p> - -<p>"What! Has he joined the Salvation Army?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," sneered the father; "he chucked the circus at Chelmsford, and -said it was a booth of Satan. Now he's howling about the street in a -red jersey, and talking pious."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry raised her thin hands to heaven. "I thank God he has found -the light," she said solemnly, "I'm Methodist myself, but I hear the -Army does much good. If the Army saves Cain's immortal soul," said the -woman, weeping fast, "I'll bless its work on my bended knees. I -believe Cain will be a comfort to me after all. Where are you going, -Giles--not to the drawing-room?"</p> - -<p>"As far as the door to listen," growled Merry. "I'm sick of -hearing you talk pious. I'll come and stop here, and twist Cain's -neck if he prays at me."</p> - -<p>"Trouble--trouble," wailed Mrs. Merry, wringing her hands, "I -wish you'd go. Cain and me would be happier without you, whatever -you may say, Giles, or Signor Antonio, or whatever wickedness you -call yourself. Oh, I was a fool to marry you!"</p> - -<p>Giles looked at her queerly. "Give me five hundred pounds, and I -won't trouble you again," he said, "meanwhile"--he moved towards the -door. Mrs. Merry made a bound like a panther and caught him.</p> - -<p>"No," she said, "you shan't listen."</p> - -<p>Giles swept her aside like a fly, and she fell on the floor. Then -with a contemptuous snort he left the kitchen and went into the -passage which led to the front. On the right of this was the door of -the drawing-room, and as both walls and door were thin, Mr. Merry had -no difficulty in overhearing what was going on within. Could his eyes -have seen through a deal board, he would have beheld an old lady -seated in the best arm-chair, supporting herself on an ebony crutch. -She wore a rich black silk, and had white hair, a fresh complexion, a -nose like the beak of a parrot, and a firm mouth. The expression of -the face was querulous and ill-tempered, and she was trying to bring -Eva round to her views on the subject of Saltars' marriage. The girl -sat opposite her, very pale, but with quite as determined an -expression as her visitor.</p> - -<p>"You're a fool," said Lady Ipsen, striking her crutch angrily on the -ground. "I am your grandmother, and speak for your good."</p> - -<p>"It is rather late to come and speak for my good, now," said Eva with -great spirit; "you have neglected me for a long time."</p> - -<p>"I had my reasons," said the other sharply. "Jane, your mother, -married Strode against my will. He was of good birth, certainly, but -he had no money, and besides was a bad man."</p> - -<p>"There is no need to speak evil of the dead."</p> - -<p>"The man's being dead doesn't make him a saint, Eva. But I'll say no -more about him, if you'll only listen to reason."</p> - -<p>"I have listened, and you have my answer," said Eva quietly; "I am -engaged to Allen Hill, and Allen Hill I intend to marry."</p> - -<p>"Never, while I have a breath of life," said the old woman angrily. -"Do you think I am going to let Saltars marry this circus woman? -No! I'll have him put in gaol first. He shall not disgrace the -family in this way. Our sons take wives from theatres and -music-halls," said Lady Ipsen grimly, "but the sawdust is lower -than either. I shan't allow the future head of the house to -disgrace himself."</p> - -<p>"All this has nothing to do with me," said Eva.</p> - -<p>"It has everything to do with you," said Lady Ipsen quickly; "don't I -tell you that Saltars, since he saw you at that Mrs. Palmer's, has -taken a fancy to you? It would take very little for you to detach him -from this wretched Miss Lorry."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to, Lady Ipsen!"</p> - -<p>"Call me grandmother."</p> - -<p>"No. You have never been a grandmother to me. I will be now," Lady -Ipsen tried to soften her grim face; "I wish I'd seen you before," -she added, "you're a true Delham, with very little of that bad -Strode blood in you, unless in the obstinacy you display. I'll -take you away from this Mrs. Palmer, Eva----"</p> - -<p>"I have no wish to leave Mrs. Palmer."</p> - -<p>"You must. I won't have a granddaughter of mine remain in a -situation with a common woman."</p> - -<p>"Leave Mrs. Palmer alone, Lady Ipsen. She is a good woman, and when -my relatives forsook me she took me up. If you had ever loved me, -or desired to behave as you should have done, you would have come -to help me when my father was murdered. And now," cried Eva, rising -with flashing eyes, "you come when I am settled, to get me to help -you with your schemes. I decline."</p> - -<p>The old woman, very white and with glittering eyes, rose. "You intend -then to marry Allen Hill?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do."</p> - -<p>"Well then, you can't," snapped the old woman; "his mother isn't -respectable."</p> - -<p>"How dare you say that?" demanded Eva angrily.</p> - -<p>"Because I'm accustomed to speak my mind," snapped Lady Ipsen, -glaring; "it is not a chit like you will make me hold my peace. Mrs. -Hill was in our family as a governess before your father married my -daughter Jane."</p> - -<p>"What of that?"</p> - -<p>"Simply this: a valuable diamond necklace was lost--an heirloom. I -believe Mrs. Hill stole it."</p> - -<p>Eva laughed. "I don't believe that for one moment," she said -scornfully. "Mrs. Hill is a good, kind, sweet lady."</p> - -<p>"Lady she is, as she comes of good stock. Sweet I never thought her, -and kind she may be to you, seeing she is trying to trap you into -marrying her miserable son----"</p> - -<p>"Don't you call Allen miserable," said Eva, annoyed; "he is the best -man in the world, and worth a dozen of Lord Saltars."</p> - -<p>"That would not be difficult," said Lady Ipsen, sneering; "Saltars is -a fool and a profligate."</p> - -<p>"And you expect me to marry him?"</p> - -<p>"To save him from disgracing the family."</p> - -<p>"The Delham family is nothing to me," said Eva proudly; "look after -the honour of the family yourself, Lady Ipsen. As to this talk about -Mrs. Hill, I don't believe it."</p> - -<p>"Ask her yourself, then."</p> - -<p>"I shall do so, and even, if what you say is true, which I don't -believe, I shall still marry Allen."</p> - -<p>"Eva," the old lady dropped into her seat, "don't be hard on me. I -am old. I wish you well. It is true what I say about Mrs. Hill. You -can't marry her son."</p> - -<p>"But I can, and I intend to."</p> - -<p>"Oh, this marriage--this disgraceful marriage!" cried the old woman -in despair, "how can I manage to stop it. This Miss Lorry will be -married to Saltars soon, if I can't put an end to his infatuation."</p> - -<p>Eva shrugged her shoulders. "I can give you no help."</p> - -<p>"You might plead with Saltars."</p> - -<p>"No. I can't do that. It is his business, not mine. Why don't -you offer Miss Lorry a sum of money to decline the match?"</p> - -<p>"Because she's bent upon being Lady Saltars, and will stop at -nothing to achieve her end. I would give five hundred--a thousand -pounds to stop the marriage. But Miss Lorry can't be bribed."</p> - -<p>It was at this point that Giles opened the door softly and looked -in. "Make it fifteen hundred, your ladyship, and I'll stop the -marriage," he said impudently.</p> - -<p>"Giles," cried Eva, rising indignantly, "how dare you----?"</p> - -<p>"Because I've been listening, and heard a chance of making money."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Merry burst in at her husband's heels. "And I couldn't stop -him from listening, Miss Eva," she said, weeping; "he's a brute. -Don't give him the money, your ladyship; he's a liar."</p> - -<p>"I'm not," said Giles coolly, "for fifteen hundred pounds I can -stop this marriage. I have every reason to hate Miss Lorry. She's -been playing low down on me, in writing to you, Miss Strode, and -it's time she learned I won't be put on. Well, your ladyship?"</p> - -<p>The old woman, who had kept her imperious black eyes fixed on Giles, -nodded. "Can you really stop the marriage?"</p> - -<p>"Yes I can, and pretty sharp too."</p> - -<p>"Then do so and you'll have the fifteen hundred pounds."</p> - -<p>"Will you give me some writing to that effect?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Lady Ipsen, becoming at once a business woman; "get me -some ink and paper, Eva."</p> - -<p>"Stop," said Giles politely--so very politely that his poor wife -stared. "I don't doubt your ladyship's word. Promise me to send to -this address," he handed a bill containing the next place where -Stag's Circus would perform, "one thousand five hundred in notes, and -I'll settle the matter."</p> - -<p>"I'll bring the money myself," said Lady Ipsen, putting away the bill; -"you don't get the money till I know the truth. How can you stop the -marriage? Tell me now."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't mind that," said Giles, shrugging. "I'm sure you -won't break your word, and even if you were inclined to you -can't, if you want to stop the marriage. You can't do without -me."</p> - -<p>"Speak out, man," said Lady Ipsen sharply.</p> - -<p>"Well then----" began Giles and then hesitated, as he looked at poor -faded Mrs. Merry in her black stuff dress. "Selina, you give me fifteen -hundred pounds and I'll not speak."</p> - -<p>"What have I got to do with it?" asked his wife, staring.</p> - -<p>"It will be worth your while to pay me," said Merry threateningly.</p> - -<p>"I can't and I won't, whatever you may say. Tell Lady Ipsen what you -like. Your wickedness hasn't anything to do with me."</p> - -<p>"You'll see," he retorted, turning to the old lady. "I've given you -the chance. Lady Ipsen, I accept your offer. Lord Saltars can't marry -Miss Lorry, because that lady----"</p> - -<p>"Well, man--well."</p> - -<p>"That lady," said Giles, "is married already."</p> - -<p>"Who to?" asked Eva, while Lady Ipsen's eyes flashed.</p> - -<p>"To me," said Merry; "I married her years ago, before I met Selina."</p> - -<p>"Then I am free--free," cried Eva's nurse; "oh, thank heaven!" and -she fell down on the floor in a faint, for the first and last time in -her life.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXI</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">THE DIAMONDS</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>At seven o'clock that same evening Allen and his American friend were -walking to Mrs. Palmer's to dine. As yet, Allen knew nothing of what -had transpired at Misery Castle, for Eva was keeping the story till -they met. But as the two men passed the little inn they saw Giles -Merry descend from a holiday-making <i>char-à-banc</i>.. Two or three men -had just passed into the inn, no doubt to seek liquid refreshment. -Allen knew Merry's face, as Mrs. Merry had shown him a photograph of -Signor Antonio in stage dress, which she had obtained from Cain. The -man was a handsome and noticeable blackguard, and moreover his good -looks were reproduced in Cain. Therefore young Hill knew him at once, -and stepped forward.</p> - -<p>"Good evening, Mr. Merry," he said; "I have long wished to meet you."</p> - -<p>Giles looked surly. "My name is Signor Antonio, monsieur," he said.</p> - -<p>"Oh," mocked Allen, "and being Italian you speak English and French -badly?"</p> - -<p>"What do you want?" demanded Giles savagely, and becoming the English -gipsy at once. "I've no time to waste?"</p> - -<p>"Why did you send that cross to Mr. Hill?"</p> - -<p>Giles grinned. "Just to give him a fright," he said. "I knew he -was a milk-and-water fool, as I saw a lot of him in the old -days, when I did Strode's dirty work."</p> - -<p>"You dug up the wooden hand?"</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't. Butsey, who was on the watch, saw Hill plant it, -and dug it up. He brought it to me, and I gave it to Father Don. -Then Butsey stole it back, and passed it along to that young -woman you're going to marry."</p> - -<p>"I guess," said Horace at this point, "you'd best speak civil of -Miss Strode. I'm not taking any insolence this day."</p> - -<p>Allen nodded approval, and Giles cast a look over the big limbs of -the American. Apparently, strong man as he was, he thought it -would be best not to try conclusions with such a giant. "I wish -I'd met you in Father Don's den," he said. "I'd have smashed that -handsome face of yours."</p> - -<p>"Two can play at that game," said Allen quietly; "and now, Mr. -Merry, or Signor Antonio, or whatever you choose to call -yourself, why shouldn't I hand you over to Wasp?"</p> - -<p>"You can't bring any charge against me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, can't I? You know something about this murder----"</p> - -<p>"I was playing my turn at the circus in Westhaven when the shot -was fired," said Giles coolly.</p> - -<p>"I didn't say you shot the man yourself; but you know who did."</p> - -<p>"No, I don't," said Merry, his face growing dark; "if I did know -the man, I'd make him a present. I'd like to have killed Strode -myself. He played me many a dirty trick, and I said I'd be even -with him. But some one else got in before me. As to arrest," he -went on sneeringly, "don't you think I'd be such a fool as to come -down here, unless I was sure of my ground. Arrest me indeed!"</p> - -<p>"I can on suspicion. You're in with the Perry Street gang."</p> - -<p>Giles cast a look towards the inn and laughed. "Well, you've got to -prove that I and the rest have done wrong, before you can run us all -in."</p> - -<p>"The wooden hand----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, we know all about that, and who stole it," said Giles meaningly.</p> - -<p>Allen started. He saw well enough that he could not bring Giles to -book without mentioning the name of his father. Therefore he changed -his mind about calling on Wasp to interfere, and contented himself -with a warning. "You'd best clear out of this by to-morrow," said he -angrily. "I shan't have you, troubling your wife."</p> - -<p>"My wife! Ha--ha!" Merry seemed to find much enjoyment in the remark.</p> - -<p>"Or Miss Strode either."</p> - -<p>"Oh," sneered the man insolently, "you'd best see Miss Strode. She may -have something interesting to tell you. But I can't stay talking here -for ever. I'm going back to Shanton to-night. Come round at eleven," -he said to the driver of the <i>char-à-banc</i>.. "We'll drive back in the -moonlight."</p> - -<p>"I think you'd better," said Allen grimly; "you stop here to-morrow, -and whatever you may know about a person, whose name need not be -mentioned, I'll have you run in."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'll be gone by to-morrow," sneered Merry again, and took his cap -off with such insolence that Horace longed to kick him, "don't you -fret yourself. I'm a gentleman of property now, and intend to cut the -sawdust and go to South Africa--where the diamonds come from," he -added with an insolent laugh, and then swung into the inn, leaving -Allen fuming with anger. But there was no use in making a disturbance, -as the man could make things unpleasant for Mr. Hill, so Allen -walked away with Horace to Mrs. Palmer's.</p> - -<p>It would have been wiser had he entered the inn, for in the -coffee-room were three men, whom he might have liked to meet. -These were Father Don smartly dressed as a clergyman, Red Jerry as a -sailor, and Foxy in a neat suit of what are known as hand-me-downs. -The trio looked most respectable, and if Jerry's face was somewhat -villainous, and Foxy's somewhat sly, the benevolent looks of Father -Don were above suspicion. Giles sat down beside these at a small -table, and partook of the drinks which had been ordered. The landlord -was under the impression that the three men were over on a jaunt -from Shanton, and intended to return in the moonlight. Merry had -met them at the door, and now came in to tell them his plans.</p> - -<p>"I've arranged matters," he said in a low voice to Father Don, "the -groom Jacobs is courting some young woman he's keeping company with, -and the women servants have gone to a penny reading the vicar is -giving."</p> - -<p>"What of young Hill and his friend?"</p> - -<p>"They are dining with Mrs. Palmer. The house is quite empty, and -contains only Mr. and Mrs. Hill. I have been in the house before, -and know every inch of it. I'll tell you how to get in."</p> - -<p>"You'll come also?" said Foxy suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"No," replied Giles. "I'll stop here. I've done enough for the money. -If you're fools enough to be caught, I shan't be mixed up in the -matter."</p> - -<p>"We won't be caught," said Father Don with a low laugh; "Jerry will -keep guard at the window, and Foxy and I will enter."</p> - -<p>"How?" asked the sharp-faced man.</p> - -<p>"By the window," said Giles. "I explained to Father Don here, in -London. Hill has taken up his quarters in a Japanese room on the -west side of the house, just over the wall. There are French -windows opening on to the lawn. You can steal up and the grass -will deaden the sound of footsteps. It goes right up to the -window. That may be open. If not, Jerry can burst it, and then you -and Don can enter."</p> - -<p>"But if Hill isn't alone?"</p> - -<p>"Well then, act as you think best. Mrs. Hill's twice the man her -husband is. She might give the alarm. But there's no one in the -house, and she'll have to sing out pretty loudly before the alarm -can be given to the village."</p> - -<p>"There won't be any alarm," said Father Don calmly. "I intend to make -use of that paper I got from you. Where did you get it, Merry?"</p> - -<p>"From Butsey. I found him with Strode's blue pocket-book, and made -a grab at it. I saw notes. But Butsey caught those and bolted. I -got the book and some papers. The one I gave you, Don, will make -Hill give up the diamonds, if he has them."</p> - -<p>"He must have them," said Don decidedly, "we know from the letter -sent to Mask, and which was left at his office by Butsey, that the -hand could be opened. I did open it and found nothing. I believe -that Strode stored the diamonds therein. If Hill stole the hand, -and took it home, he must have found the diamonds, and they are -now in his possession. I expect he looked for them."</p> - -<p>"No," said Merry grimly, "he was looking for that paper you intend -to show him. He'll give up the diamonds smart enough, when he -sees that. Then you can make for Westhaven----"</p> - -<p>"What of the charry-bang?" asked Jerry in heavy tones.</p> - -<p>"That's a blind. It will come round at eleven, but by that time we -will all be on our way to Westhaven. If there is pursuit, Wasp and -his friend will follow in the wrong direction. Then Father Don can -make for Antwerp, and later we can sell the diamonds. But no -larks," said Merry, showing his teeth, "or there will be trouble."</p> - -<p>"Suppose young Hill and his friend tell the police?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Giles, grinning, "they will do so at the risk of the -contents of that paper being made public. Don't be a fool, Don, -you've got the whole business in your own hands. I don't want a -row, as I have to meet a lady in a few days," Giles grinned again, -when he thought of Lady Ipsen, "and we have to do business."</p> - -<p>So the plan was arranged, and after another drink Father Don and -stroll in the village to "see the venerable church in the -moonlight," as the pseudo clergyman told the landlord. But when out -of sight, the trio changed the direction of their walk, and made -for "The Arabian Nights" at the end of the village. Departing from -the high-road they stole across a large meadow, and, in a dark -corner, climbed the wall. Father Don was as active as any of them, -in spite of his age. When the three rascals were over the wall and -standing on a smoothly-shaven lawn, they saw the range of the Roman -pillars, but no light in the windows. "It's on the west side," said -Don in a whisper; "come along, pals."</p> - -<p>The three crept round the black bulk of the house and across the -drive. All was silent and peaceful within the boundary of the wall. -The moonlight silvered the lawns and flower-beds and made beautiful -the grotesque architecture of the house. A few steps taken in a -cat-like fashion brought the thieves to the west side. They here saw -a light glimmering through three French windows which opened on to a -narrow stone terrace. From this, the lawn rolled smoothly to the -flower-beds, under the encircling red brick wall. Father Don pointed -to the three windows.</p> - -<p>"The middle one," he said quietly; "see if it's open, Foxy. If not, -we'll have to make a certain noise. And look inside if you can."</p> - -<p>Foxy stole across the lawn and terrace and peered in. After a time, -he delicately tried the window and shook his head. He then stole back -to report, "Hill is lying on the sofa," he said, "and his wife is -seated beside him. He's crying about something."</p> - -<p>"We'll give him something to cry about soon," said Father Don, feeling -for the paper which he had received from Giles. "Smash the middle -window in, Jerry."</p> - -<p>Without the least concealment the huge man rushed up the slope -and hurled his bulk against the window. The frail glass gave way and -he fairly fell into the centre of the room. With a shrill cry of -terror, Hill sprang from the sofa, convulsively clutching the hand -of his wife, while Mrs. Hill, after the first shock of alarm, faced -the intruders boldly. By this time Father Don with Foxy behind him -was bowing to the disturbed couple. Jerry took himself out of the -room, and guarded the broken window.</p> - -<p>"Who are you? what do you want?" demanded Mrs. Hill. "If you don't -go I'll ring for the servants."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid you will give yourself unnecessary trouble," said Don -suavely. "We know the servants are out."</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"We'll come to that presently. Our business has to do with your -husband, Mr. Hill"--Father Don looked at the shivering wretch.</p> - -<p>"I never harmed you--I don't know you," mumbled Hill. "Go away--leave -me alone--what do you want?"</p> - -<p>"We'll never get on in this way.--No, you don't," added Don, as Mrs. -Hill tried to steal to the door, "Go and sit down by your good -husband," and he enforced this request by pointing a revolver.</p> - -<p>"I am not to be frightened by melodrama," said Mrs. Hill scornfully.</p> - -<p>"Sit down, Sarah--sit down," said Hill, his teeth chattering.</p> - -<p>The woman could not help casting a contemptuous look on the coward, -even though she fancied, she owed so much to him. But, as she was a -most sensible woman, she saw that it would be as well to obey. "I am -ready to hear," she said, sitting by Hill, and putting her strong arm -round the shivering, miserable creature.</p> - -<p>"I'll come to the point at once," said Don, speaking to Hill, "as -we have not much time to lose. Mr. Hill, you have forty thousand -pounds' worth of diamonds here. Give them up!"</p> - -<p>Hill turned even paler than he was. "How do you know that?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"It can't be true," put in Mrs. Hill spiritedly. "If you are talking -of Mr. Strode's diamonds, my husband hasn't got them."</p> - -<p>"Your husband stole the wooden hand from the dead," said Foxy, with -his usual snarl. "He took it home and opened it."</p> - -<p>"I did not know it contained the diamonds," babbled Hill.</p> - -<p>"No. You thought it contained a certain document," said Don, and -produced a paper from his pocket, "a blue paper document, not very -large--of such a size as might go into a wooden hand, provided the -hand was hollow as it was. Is this it?"</p> - -<p>Hill gave a scream and springing up bounded forward. "Give it to -me--give it!' he cried.</p> - -<p>"For the diamonds," said Father Don, putting the paper behind him.</p> - -<p>"You shall have them. I hid them in this room--I don't want them, but -that paper--it is mine."</p> - -<p>"I know that--signed with your name, isn't it? Well, bring out the -diamonds, and, when you hand them over----"</p> - -<p>"You'll give me the paper?"</p> - -<p>Foxy shook his head as Father Don looked inquiringly at him. "No, -we must keep that paper, so as to get away--otherwise you'll be -setting the police on our track."</p> - -<p>"I swear I won't--I swear----" Hill dropped on his knees, "I swear----"</p> - -<p>His wife pulled him to his feet. "Try and be a man, Lawrence," she -said. "What is this document?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing--nothing--but I must have it," cried Hill jerking himself -away. He ran across the room, and fumbled at the lock of a cabinet. -"See--see--I have the diamonds! I found them in the hand--I put them -into a canvas bag--here--here--" his fingers shook so that he could -hardly open the drawer. Foxy came forward and kindly helped him. -Between the two, the drawer was opened. Hill flung out a mass of -papers, which strewed the floor. Then from beneath these, he hauled a -small canvas bag tied at the mouth and sealed. "All the diamonds are -here," he said, bringing this to Don and trying to open it. -"Forty thousand pounds--forty--for God's sake--" he broke off -hysterically--"the paper, the paper I signed!"</p> - -<p>Don took possession of the bag and was about to hand over the -document, when Foxy snatched it. "We'll send this from the -Continent," he said, "while we have this, you won't be able to set -the peelers on us."</p> - -<p>Hill began to cry and again fell on his knees, but Father Don took no -notice of him. He emptied the contents of the bag on the table and -there the jewels flashed in the lamp-light, a small pile of very fine -stones. While he gloated over them, Mrs. Hill laid her hand on Foxy's -arm: "What is in that paper?" she asked sternly.</p> - -<p>"Don't tell her--don't tell her!" cried Hill.</p> - -<p>"Lawrence!"</p> - -<p>But he put his hands to his ears and still cried and grovelled. "I -shall go mad if you tell her! I shall--ah--oh--ugh--!" he suddenly -clutched at his throat and reeled to the sofa.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill took little notice of him. "Read me the document," she said.</p> - -<p>"I can almost repeat it from memory," said Foxy, putting the paper -into his pocket; "it's simply a confession by your husband that he -stole a certain necklace belonging to----"</p> - -<p>"The Delham heirloom!" cried Mrs. Hill, turning grey, and recoiling.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and also a promise to withdraw from seeking to marry Lady Jane -Delham, and to marry you."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Mrs. Hill turned such a withering look on her miserable husband, -that he shrank back and covered his eyes. "So this is the real reason -of your chivalry?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Father Don, who had placed the diamonds again in his bag, -and stood up, "I heard some of the story from Giles Merry, and read -the rest in the signed document. It was Hill who stole the necklace. -He took the key from the schoolroom, where it had been left by Lady -Ipsen. He opened the safe, and collared the necklace. Near the door, -he left a handkerchief of yours, Mrs. Hill, so that, if there was -danger, you might be accused. Strode found the handkerchief, and -knowing Hill had possessed it, made him confess. Then he made Hill -sign the confession that he had stolen the necklace, and also made him -promise to marry you."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill sank down with a stern, shamed look, "So this was your -chivalry," she said, looking again at her husband, "you stole the -necklace--you let me bear the shame--you tried to incriminate me--you -pretended to wed me to save me from starvation, and--oh, you--you -shameless-creature!" she leaped, and made as though she would have -struck Hill; the man cowered with a cry of alarm like a trapped -rabbit.</p> - -<p>"What became of the necklace?" she asked Don sharply.</p> - -<p>"Strode made Hill sell it, and they divided the profits."</p> - -<p>"Eva's father also," moaned Mrs. Hill, covering her face, "oh, -shame--shame--shall I ever be able to look on this man's face again!"</p> - -<p>Hill attempted to excuse himself, "I didn't get much money," he -wailed. "I let Strode take the lot. He carried the confession in his -wooden hand--that's why I took it. I stole the hand and opened -it--but the confession wasn't in it--I found the diamonds, and I -have given them to you--let me have the paper!" he bounded to his -feet, and snatching a dagger from a trophy of arms on the wall made -for Foxy, "I'll kill you if you don't give it to me!"</p> - -<p>Father Don dodged behind a chair, while Foxy, who was right in the -centre of the room, ran for the window, and, bursting past Jerry, -raced down the lawn with Hill after him, the dagger upraised. Round -and round they went, while Mrs. Hill stood on the terrace, looking on -with a deadly smile. Had Hill been struck down, she would have -rejoiced. Don twitched the arm of Jerry.</p> - -<p>"Let's cut," he said; "I've got the swag, Foxy can look after -himself," and these two gentlemen left the house hurriedly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill saw them disappear without anxiety. The blow she had -received seemed to have benumbed her faculties. To think that she had -been so deceived and tricked. With a stony face she watched Foxy -flying round the lawn, with the insane man--for Hill appeared to be -mad--after him. Foxy, in deadly terror of his life, seeing his pals -disappear, tore the document from his pocket, threw it down, and ran -panting towards the wall. While he scaled it, Hill picked up the -paper and tore it, with teeth and hands, into a thousand shreds. The -three scoundrels had disappeared, and Mrs. Hill looked down coldly on -her frantic husband. Hill danced up to the terrace, and held out his -hands. "Happiness--happiness, I am safe."</p> - -<p>"Coward," she said in a terrible voice. Her husband looked at her, -and then began to laugh weirdly. Then with a cry, he dropped.</p> - -<p>"I hope he is dead," said Mrs. Hill, looking down on him with scorn.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">BUTSEY'S STORY</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>There was no excitement in Wargrove next day over the burglars who -had entered "The Arabian Nights," for the simple reason that the -village knew nothing about the matter. But a rumour was current, that -Mr. Hill had gone out of his mind. No one was astonished, as he had -always been regarded as queer. Now, it appeared, he was stark, -staring mad, and no longer the harmless eccentric the village had -known for so long. And the rumour was true.</p> - -<p>"It is terrible to think of the punishment which has befallen him, -Allen," said Mrs. Hill the next morning; "but can we call it -undeserved?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose not," answered her son gloomily. "I wish I had remained at -home last night, mother."</p> - -<p>"Things would have been worse, had you remained. There would have been -a fight."</p> - -<p>"I would have saved Eva's diamonds, at all events."</p> - -<p>"Let the diamonds go, Hill," chimed in Parkins, who formed a third -in the conversation, "they were come by dishonestly, and would have -brought no luck. You come out to Bolivia, and fix up the mine. Then -you can make your own coin, and marry Miss Strode."</p> - -<p>"But you forget, Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill, "I am now rich, and -Allen need not go to America."</p> - -<p>"No, mother," said Allen hastily, "I'll go. You will do much more -good with my father's money than I can. Besides----" he hesitated, -and looked at Horace. The American interpreted the look.</p> - -<p>"Guess you want a little private conversation," he said; "well -I'll light out and have a smoke. You can call me when you want me -again," and Mr. Parkins, producing his pipe, left the room.</p> - -<p>"My poor mother," said Allen, embracing her, "don't look so sad. It is -very terrible and----</p> - -<p>"You can't console me, Allen," said the poor woman bitterly, "so do -not try to. To think that I should have believed in that man all -these years. He was a thief--doubly a thief; he not only robbed the -Delhams of the necklace, but robbed the dead, and me of my good -name."</p> - -<p>"I almost think the dead deserved to be robbed," said Allen; "I begin -to believe, mother, that Strode was my father's evil genius as he said -he was. Why should my father steal this necklace, when he had plenty -of money?"</p> - -<p>"He had not at the time. I think his father kept him short. He took -the necklace, I expect, under the strong temptation of finding the key -in the schoolroom."</p> - -<p>"I believe Strode urged him to steal it," said Allen, "and at all -events Strode was not above profiting by the theft. And it was Strode -who brought about the marriage----"</p> - -<p>"By threats," said Mrs. Hill grimly, "I expect, Strode swore he would -reveal the truth, unless Lawrence married me. And I thought Lawrence -acted so, out of chivalry."</p> - -<p>"But if Strode had revealed the truth he would have incriminated -himself."</p> - -<p>"Ah, but, as I learn, he waited till after I was married before he -disposed of the necklace. Then he sold it through Father Don, who -was his associate in villainy. However, Strode is dead and your -father is mad. I wonder what fate will befall Merry and those -wretches he associates with?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, their sins will come home to them, never fear," said Allen, in a -prophetic vein. "I suppose it is best to let the matter rest."</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Father Don and his two associates have got away. What -about Merry?"</p> - -<p>"He went almost at once to Shanton, and did not pay for the -<i>char-à-banc</i>.. The owner is in a fine rage and drove back to -Shanton at midnight, vowing to summons Merry, who was responsible -for its ordering."</p> - -<p>"Well, they are out of our life at last," said his mother, "we now -know the secret which caused your unhappy father to try and -murder Strode, and did make him steal the hand. The confession -has been destroyed, so no one can say anything. Merry will not -speak----"</p> - -<p>"No; that's all right. Merry is going to receive money from old -Lady Ipsen, for stopping the marriage of Saltars with Miss Lorry. -I expect he will go to Africa as he says. He'll hold his tongue -and so will the others. But they have the diamonds, and poor Eva -receives nothing."</p> - -<p>"I agree with Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill quickly, "the jewels -were come by dishonestly, and would have brought no good fortune. -Will you tell Eva anything, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"No. I'll tell her as little as possible. No one, but you, I, and -Parkins, know of the events of last night. My poor father has -been reported ill for some time and has always been so eccentric, -so it will surprise no one to hear he has gone mad. We will place -him in some private asylum, and----"</p> - -<p>"No, Allen," said Mrs. Hill firmly, "the poor soul is harmless. -After all, wickedly as he has acted, he has been severely -punished, and is my husband. I'll keep him here and look after him -till the end comes--and that won't be long," sighed Mrs. Hill.</p> - -<p>"Very good, mother, you shall act as you think fit. But we know -the truth now."</p> - -<p>"Yes, save who murdered Mr. Strode."</p> - -<p>"I believe Jerry did, or Giles."</p> - -<p>"They both deny doing so."</p> - -<p>"Of course," said Allen contemptuously, "to save their own skins. -I shall go up to London, mother, and tell Mr. Mask what has taken -place."</p> - -<p>But there was no need for Allen to go to town. That afternoon the -lawyer arrived and with him a small boy with one eye. The lad was -neatly dressed, he had his hair cut, and his face washed. In -spite of his one eye and white cheeks he looked a very smart -youngster, and grinned in a friendly manner at Allen and Horace.</p> - -<p>"This," said Mr. Mask, leading the lad into the room, where the -young men were smoking after luncheon, "is Master Train----"</p> - -<p>"Butsey?" said Allen.</p> - -<p>"Oh no," replied Mask gravely, "he is a gentleman of property now -and is living on his money. You mustn't call him by so low a name -as Butsey."</p> - -<p>The boy grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I saiy, how long's -this a-goin' on?" he inquired; "you've been shying fun at me all day."</p> - -<p>"We won't shy fun any more," said Mr. Mask in his melancholy voice. "I -have brought you here to make a clean breast of it."</p> - -<p>"About the diamonds?"</p> - -<p>"We know about the diamonds," said Horace. "I guess Father Don's got -them."</p> - -<p>"Saikes! hes he?" said Butsey regretfully; "that comes of me tellin' -about the letter I guv to you"--this was to Mask--"if he hadn't opened -the hand, he wouldn't have got 'em."</p> - -<p>"You are quite wrong, Butsey," said Allen, rising. "Horace, I'll -leave the boy in your keeping. Mr. Mask, will you come with me into -the next room?"</p> - -<p>Rather surprised, Mask did so, and was speedily put in possession -of the terrible story. He quite agreed that the matter should be -kept quiet. "Though I hope it won't be necessary to rake it up when -Butsey is tried for murder."</p> - -<p>"What! did that boy shoot Mr. Strode?"</p> - -<p>"I think so," said the lawyer, looking puzzled; "but to tell you the -truth I'm not sure. I can't get the boy to speak freely. He said he -would do so, only in the presence of you and Parkins. That is why I -brought him down."</p> - -<p>"How did you get hold of him?"</p> - -<p>"Through one of the stolen notes. Butsey presented himself at the -bank and cashed ten pounds. He was arrested and brought to me. I -gave bail for him, and brought him to explain."</p> - -<p>"Where did he get the notes?"</p> - -<p>"Out of the blue pocket-book, he says--in which case he must have -committed the murder. Not for his own sake," added Mask quickly. "I -fear the poor little wretch has been made a cat's-paw by the others."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Allen, drawing a long breath of astonishment, "wonders -will never cease. I never thought Butsey was guilty."</p> - -<p>"I can't be sure yet if he is. But, at all events, he certainly knows -who is the culprit, and, to save his own neck, he will confess."</p> - -<p>"But would the law hang a boy like that even if guilty?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think Butsey will give the law the chance of trying the -experiment. He's a clever little reptile. But we had better -return and examine him. Your mother----?"</p> - -<p>"She is with my poor father."</p> - -<p>"Is that quite safe?" asked Mask anxiously. "Perfectly. He is -harmless."</p> - -<p>Mask looked sympathetic, although he privately thought that -madness was the best thing which could have befallen Mr. Hill, -seeing he had twice brought himself within the clutches of the -law. At least there was now no danger of his being punished for -theft or attempted murder, whatever might be said by those who had -escaped with the diamonds; and certainly Mrs. Hill would be -relieved of a very troublesome partner. Had Hill remained sane, -she would not have lived with him after discovering how he had -tricked her into marriage, and had traded on her deep gratitude -all these years. Now, by tending him in his hopeless state, she -was heaping coals of fire on his head, and proving herself to be, -what Mask always knew she truly was, a good woman.</p> - -<p>So, in Allen's company, he returned to the room where Parkins was -keeping watch over Master Train, and found that brilliant young -gentleman smoking a cigarette. "Produced it from a silver case -too," said the amused American. "This is a mighty smart boy. I -guess you got rid of a lot of that money, bub?"</p> - -<p>"I cashed two notes," said Butsey coolly, "but the third trapped -me. But I don't care. I've had a good time!"</p> - -<p>"And I expect you'll pass the rest of your life in gaol."</p> - -<p>"What's that?" said Butsey, not turning a hair; "in gaol?--not -me. I've been in quod once and didn't like it. I ain't a-goin' -again. No, sir, you give me some cash, Mr. Hill, and I'll go to -the States."</p> - -<p>"They'll lynch you there, as sure as a gun," said Horace, -grinning.</p> - -<p>Allen was quite taken aback by the coolness of the prisoner, for -a prisoner Butsey virtually was. Mask leaned back nursing his -foot, and did not take much part in the conversation. He -listened to Allen examining the culprit, and only put a word in -now and then.</p> - -<p>"You don't seem to realise your position," said Hill sharply.</p> - -<p>"Oh yuss, I does," said Butsey, calmly blowing a cloud of smoke, -"you wants to get the truth out of me. Well, I'll tell it, if -you'll let me go. I dessay our friend here"--he nodded to -Mask--"can arrange with the peelers about that note."</p> - -<p>"It's probable I can," said Mask, tickled at the impudence of the -boy; "but wouldn't you rather suffer for stealing, than for -murder?"</p> - -<p>The boy jumped up and became earnest at once. "See here," he said, -wetting his finger, "that's wet," and then he wiped it on his -jacket, "that's dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie. I didn't shoot -the old bloke. S'elp me, I didn't!"</p> - -<p>"Who did, then? Do you know?"</p> - -<p>"I might know; but you've got to make it worth my while to split."</p> - -<p>Allen took the boy by the collar and shook him. "You young imp," he -said, "you'll tell everything you know, or pass some time in gaol."</p> - -<p>"Make me tell, then," said Butsey, and put out his tongue.</p> - -<p>"Suppose I hand you over to Father Don and your own parent?"</p> - -<p>"Can't, sir. Th' gang's broke up. They'll go abroad with them -diamonds, and start in some other country. 'Sides, I ain't going in -for that business again. I'm going to be respectable, I am. And I did -git you out of the den, sir," said Butsey more earnestly.</p> - -<p>Allen dropped his hand from the boy's collar. "You certainly did -that--at the request of Miss Lorry. What of her?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing but good," said Butsey, flushing; "she's the best and -kindest laidy in the world. I ain't a-goin' to saiy anything of -her."</p> - -<p>"I don't want you to talk of people who have nothing to do with -the matter in hand," said Hill; "but you must tell us about the -murder. If you don't----"</p> - -<p>"What am I a-goin' to get fur splitting?" asked Butsey in a -businesslike way.</p> - -<p>"I'll arrange that you won't go to gaol. You must remember, Master -Train," said Mask with deliberation, "that you are in a dangerous -position. The note you cashed was taken from a pocket-book which the -murdered man had on his person, when he was shot. How did you get -it, eh? The presumption is that you shot him."</p> - -<p>Butsey whistled between his teeth. "You can't frighten me," said -he, his one eye twinkling savagely; "but I'll tell you everything, -'cept who shot the bloke."</p> - -<p>"Huh," said Horace. "I guess we can ravel out that, when we know -what you have to say. But you speak straight, young man, or I'll -hide you proper."</p> - -<p>"Lor," said Butsey coolly, "I've bin hided by father and old Don -much wuss than you can hammer. But I'll tell--jest you three keep -your ears open. Where 'ull I begin?"</p> - -<p>"From the beginning," said Allen; "how did the gang come to know that -Strode had the diamonds?"</p> - -<p>"It wos father told 'em," said Butsey candidly. "Father's Red -Jerry, an' a onener at that--my eye! He got into trouble here, and -cuts to furrein parts some years ago. In Africay he saw the dead -bloke."</p> - -<p>"Strode?"</p> - -<p>"Well, ain't I a-saiyin' of him?" snapped Butsey; "yuss--Strode. -Father comes 'ome in the saime ship es Strode and knows all about -'im having prigged diamonds in Africay."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by prigged?"</p> - -<p>"Wot I saiy, in course. Strode got them diamonds wrong----"</p> - -<p>"I. D. B.," said Parkins. "I told you so, Hill."</p> - -<p>"Well then," went on Butsey, looking mystified at the mention of -the letters, "father didn't see why he shouldn't git the diamonds, -so he follered the dead bloke to this here country and come to -tell old Father Don in the Perry Street ken. Father Don and Foxy -both went in with father----"</p> - -<p>"To murder Strode?" said Allen.</p> - -<p>"Not much. They wanted to rob him, but didn't want to dance on -nothink. Father Don's a fly one. I was told about the job, an' -sent to watch the dead bloke. I watched him in London, and he wos -never out of my sight. He wos coming down to this here plaice on -Thursdaiy---"</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?" asked Mask.</p> - -<p>"Cause I knows the 'all porter at the Guelph Hotel, an' he tells -me," said Butsey calmly. "I cuts an' tells Father Don, and him -and father an' Foxy all come to Westhaven on Wednesday to see him -as is called Merry."</p> - -<p>"He's another of the gang?"</p> - -<p>"Rather. He's bin in with us fur years, he hes. And he wos doin' the -strong man at Stag's circus at Westhaven. Father Don, he come down, -knowing Merry 'ated Strode, to try and get him to do the robbin'."</p> - -<p>"Did Merry agree?"</p> - -<p>"In course he did, only too glad to get a shot at Strode----"</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say Merry shot him?"</p> - -<p>"Naow," said Butsey, making a gesture of irritation, "let a cove -talk. I'll tell you if he shot him, if you'll let me. I saiy we -wos all down to fix things on Wednesdaiy, and I come along with a -blessed ragged kids' fresh air fund, so as to maike m'self saife, -if the police took a hand. I didn't want to be mixed with no gang, -having my good name to think of."</p> - -<p>Horace grinned and rubbed his hands, but Allen frowned. "Go on," he -said sharply, "and don't play the fool."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm a-goin' on," was the unruffled reply, "and I don't plaiy th' -fool without cause, d'ye see. Well, I wos at the station at Westhaven, -an' I sees Strode come. I went off to tell Merry, and he comes to the -station and talks to Strode."</p> - -<p>"That was on Wednesday?"</p> - -<p>"Yuss. Strode sold 'us and come down, though we didn't 'ope to 'ave -the pleasure of his company till Thursday. Well, I tried to 'ear -what Giles wos a-saiying, but he guves me a clip on the ear and -sends me spinnin', so I couldn't 'ear. I goes to complain to Father -Don, an' when I gits back, Strode's away and Merry too. He'd started -walkin' to Wargrove, a porter tole me. I wos about to foller, when -Merry, he comes up and tells me, he'll go himself."</p> - -<p>"That's a lie," said Allen; "Merry was doing the strong man that night -in the circus."</p> - -<p>"No, he wasn't," grinned the boy. "I went to the circus, havin' -nothin' to do, and I saw the strong man. It wos Cain Merry, his son, -he's like his father, and could do the fakements. No one knew but the -circus coves."</p> - -<p>"Then Merry----?"</p> - -<p>"He went after Strode. I told Father Don an' Foxy, an' they swore -awful. They couldn't start after him, as they didn't know what 'ud -happen, and Merry's an awful one when put out, so they waited along o' -me, d'ye see? Next daiy Merry come back, but said he'd left Strode -a-goin' to the Red Deeps."</p> - -<p>"What did Father Don do?"</p> - -<p>"He went to the Red Deeps an' found the dead bloke. Then he come back -and saw Merry. What he said to 'im I don't know: but Father Don sent -me with a telegram to send from the St. James's Street orfice, saiying -that Strode wouldn't be down till Friday. I think Father Don did that, -to give toime to Merry to get awaiy."</p> - -<p>"That was the telegram received by Miss Strode after nine on Thursday, -I think?" said Mask.</p> - -<p>"Yuss," said Butsey. "I sent it early an' the kid es took it to -Wargrove forgot it till laite. I comes down again from town, gits back -with the fresh air kids, saime night, to sell the peelers, an' nex' -mornin' I comes down agin to tell Mrs. Merry es Cain would be over -th' nex' daiy."</p> - -<p>"Why did you do that? Cain was in the house."</p> - -<p>"I knowed he wos. But Merry sent me to see if Miss Eva hed heard -o' the death. Then I cuts----"</p> - -<p>"One moment," said Allen, "if Father Don saw the man dead, why -didn't he take the wooden hand?"</p> - -<p>"Cause he didn't know it wos worth anythin' till Mr. Masks here spoke -at the inquest."</p> - -<p>"About its being delivered to get the diamonds?" said Mask; "quite -so. And you saw Mr. Hill bury it?"</p> - -<p>"Yuss. I wos told to watch him, es Merry said he knew a lot about -Strode, and if the wust come he might be accused----"</p> - -<p>"A clever plot. Well?"</p> - -<p>"I follered him and saw him bury something. I digs it up and takes -the cross es he put over it to mark it. Then I gives the 'and to -Father Don an' the cross to Merry. He sends it to Hill to frighten -him, and sends it through Cain. Then Father Don sees Mr. Mask, and -you knows the rest."</p> - -<p>"Not all, I guess," said Horace, stretching a long arm and shaking -the boy, "say straight, you--you imp. Did Merry shoot?"</p> - -<p>"Of course he did," replied Butsey cheerfully, "he hated Strode, an' -wanted to git them diamonds. Merry hed the blue pocket-book, fur -when I come down to see Miss Lorry at Shanton, I took the book from -Merry's box which wos in his room. He found me with it and took it -back, hammerin' me fur stealin'. But I got the notes," added Butsey -with satisfaction, "and I spent three."</p> - -<p>"Merry seems to be guilty," said Mr. Mask; "he was absent from the -circus on that night and let his son--who resembles, him closely--take -his place. He had the pocket-book and----"</p> - -<p>"Got the diamonds? No, he didn't," said Butsey briskly, "he didn't -know es the hand would open. I found that out from a letter I guv -you, Mr. Mask, and tole ole Father Don. He opened the hand--that wos -arter he saw you, Mr. Mask--but he foun' nothin'. Then he guessed es -Hill--your father, Mr. Allen--had got the diamonds, seein' he had the -han', while looking fur some paiper. An' Merry got the paiper out of -the pocket-book," said Butsey, "an' showed it to Don. Wot Don did -with it I dunno."</p> - -<p>"He got the diamonds with it," said Allen grimly, "and has escaped. -But I don't think Merry will. He's at Shanton now, as the circus is -again there by particular request of the townsfolk. We'll go over -to-night, Parkins, and see him perform: then we'll catch him and make -him confess."</p> - -<p>"Will you have him arrested?" asked Horace coolly.</p> - -<p>"We'll see when the time comes," said Allen shortly. "Mask----?"</p> - -<p>"I'll remain here and look after this boy, Master Train."</p> - -<p>Butsey made a grimace, but so the matter was arranged.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIII</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">MISS LORRY'S LAST APPEARANCE</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>There was no doubt that Stag's Circus was a great success at -Shanton. Within a comparatively short period it had played three -engagements in the little town, two performances each time, and on -every occasion the tent was full. Now it was the very last night, -as Stag announced; the circus would next turn its attention towards -amusing the North. Consequently the tent was crammed to its utmost -capacity, and Stag, loafing about in a fur coat, with a gigantic -cigar, was in a very good humour.</p> - -<p>Not so Miss Lorry. That lady was already dressed in riding-habit -and tall hat to show off the paces of her celebrated stallion White -Robin, and she sat in her caravan dressing-room fuming with anger. -Miss Lorry always insisted on having a dressing-room to herself, -although the accommodation in that way was small. But she had such -a temper and was such an attraction that the great Stag consented -she should be humoured in this way. She had a bottle of champagne -beside her and was taking more than was good for her, considering -she was about to perform with a horse noted for its bad temper. In -her hand Miss Lorry held an open letter which was the cause of her -wrath. It was from Saltars, written in a schoolboy hand, and -announced that he could never marry her, as he was now aware, -through the dowager Lady Ipsen, that she, Miss Lorry, was a married -woman. "I have been with the dowager to the church in London," said -the letter, "so I know there's no mistake. I think you've treated me -very badly. I loved you and would have made you my wife. Now -everything is off, and I'll go back and marry my cousin Eva Strode."</p> - -<p>There were a few more reproaches to the effect that the lady had -broken the writer's heart, and although these were badly expressed -and badly written, yet the accent of truth rang true. Miss Lorry knew -well that Saltars had really loved her, and would not have given her -up unless the result had been brought about by the machinations of -the dowager. She ground her teeth and crushed up the letter in her -hand.</p> - -<p>"I'm done for," she said furiously. "I'd have given anything to have -been Lady Saltars, and I could have turned that fool round my finger. -I've risked a lot to get the position, and here I'm sold by that -brute I married when I was a silly girl! I could kill him--kill him," -she muttered; "and as it is, I've a good mind to thrash him," and so -saying she grasped a riding-whip firmly. It was used to bring White -Robin to subjection, but Miss Lorry was quite bold enough to try its -effect on the human brute.</p> - -<p>Shortly she sent a message for Signor Antonio, and in a few minutes -Giles presented himself with a grin. He was ready to go on for his -performance, and the fleshings showed off his magnificent figure to -advantage. He looked remarkably handsome, as he faced the furious -woman coolly, and remarkably happy when he thought of a certain parcel -of notes he had that afternoon placed in the safe keeping of the -Shanton Bank.</p> - -<p>"Well, Bell," said he coolly, "so you know the worst, do you? You -wouldn't look in such a rage if you didn't."</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry raised her whip and brought it smartly across the eyes of -Signor Antonio. "You hound!" she said, in a concentrated voice of hate, -"I should like to kill you."</p> - -<p>Merry snatched at the whip, and, twisting it from her grip, threw it -on the floor of the caravan. "That's enough," he said in a quietly -dangerous voice. "You've struck me once. Don't do it again or I twist -your neck."</p> - -<p>"Oh no, you won't," said Miss Lorry, showing her fine white teeth; -"what do you mean by splitting?"</p> - -<p>"I was paid to do so," said Merry coolly; "so, now you know the worst, -don't keep me chattering here all night. I 'ave to go on soon."</p> - -<p>"I have my turn first," said Miss Lorry, glancing at a printed bill -pinned against the wall of the van. "I must speak out, or burst," she -put her hand to her throat as though she were choking. "You beast," she -cried furiously, "have I not suffered enough at your hands already?"</p> - -<p>"You were always a tigress," growled Merry, shrinking back before her -fury; "I married you when you was a slip of a girl----"</p> - -<p>"And a fool--a fool!" cried the woman, beating her breast; "oh, what a -fool I was! You know my father was a riding-master, and----"</p> - -<p>"And how you rode to show off to the pupils?" said Merry with a -coarse laugh. "I just do. It was the riding took me."</p> - -<p>"You came as a groom," panted Miss Lorry, fixing him with a steelly -glare, "and I was idiot enough to admire your good looks. I ran away -with you, and we were married----"</p> - -<p>"I did the straight thing," said Giles, "you can't deny that."</p> - -<p>"I wish I had died, rather than marry you," she said savagely. "I -found myself bound to a brute. You struck me--you ill-treated me -within a year of our marriage."</p> - -<p>Merry lifted a lock of his black hair and showed a scar. "You did -that," he said; "you flew at me with a knife."</p> - -<p>"I wish I'd killed you," muttered Miss Lorry. "And then you left me. I -found out afterwards you had married that farmer's daughter in -Wargrove because you got a little money with her. Then you left her -also, you brute, and with a baby. Thank God, I never bore you any -children! Ah, and you were in with that bad lot of Hill, and Strode, -and Father Don, who was kicked out of the army for cheating at cards. -You fell lower and lower, and when you found I was making money in the -circus you would have forced me to live with you again, but that I -learned of your Wargrove marriage. It was only my threat of bigamy -that kept you away."</p> - -<p>"You intended to commit bigamy too, with Lord Saltars," said Merry -sullenly, "and I was willing enough to let you. But you wrote to Miss -Strode saying you'd stop me going to Wargrove----"</p> - -<p>"So I could by threatening to prosecute you for bigamy."</p> - -<p>Merry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, what good would that do?" he -asked brutally. "I have confessed myself, and now you can do what -you like. Old Lady Ipsen paid me fifteen hundred pounds for -stopping your marriage with Saltars, and now it's off. I'm going to -South Africa," finished the man.</p> - -<p>"I'll prosecute you," panted his wife.</p> - -<p>"No, you won't," he turned and looked at her sharply, "I know a little -about you, my lady----"</p> - -<p>Before he could finish his sentence, the name of Miss Lorry was -called for her turn. She picked up the riding-whip and gave Giles -another slash across the eyes, then with a taunting laugh she -bounded out of the van. Giles, left alone, set his teeth and swore.</p> - -<p>He was about to leave the caravan, intending to see Miss Lorry no -more, and deciding to go away from Shanton next day with his money, -for London <i>en route</i> to South Africa, when up the steps came -Allen. Behind him was a veiled lady.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing here?" demanded Merry, starting back; "get away. -This place is for the performers."</p> - -<p>"And for murderers also," said Allen, blocking the way resolutely, in -spite of the splendid specimen of physical strength he saw before him. -"I know you, Mr. Giles Merry?"</p> - -<p>"What do you know?" asked Merry, turning pale. "I know that you shot -Strode----"</p> - -<p>"It's a lie," said Merry fiercely. "I was at the circus----"</p> - -<p>"Cain was at the circus. He performed in your stead on that night at -Westhaven. You followed Strode to the Red Deeps where he met my -unhappy father, and you shot him. The boy Butsey has confessed how -he found the blue pocket-book, taken from Strode's body, in your box. -You took it back: but the boy retained the notes and was traced -thereby. Butsey is in custody, and you also will be arrested."</p> - -<p>Merry gasped and sat down heavily. "It's a lie. I saw Butsey with the -pocket-book, and took it from him. It was in the book I found the -paper which Don showed to your father; I never knew there was any -notes. I don't know where Butsey stole the book."</p> - -<p>"He took it from you."</p> - -<p>"It's a lie, I tell you," cried Merry frantically, and seeing his -danger. "I was never near the Red Deeps. Ask Cain, and he'll tell you, -I and not he performed. He perform my tricks!" said Merry with a -sneer; "why he couldn't do them--he hasn't the strength. I swear, Mr. -Hill, by all that's holy I was not at the Red Deeps."</p> - -<p>"You were," said the woman behind Allen, and Eva Strode pushed -past her lover. "Allen and I came to this circus to see Cain and get -him to speak about his appearing for you at Westhaven. We came -round to the back, by permission of Mr. Stag. When we were passing -here, I heard you laugh. It was the laugh I heard in my dream--a -low, taunting laugh----"</p> - -<p>"The dream?" said Merry aghast; "I remember reading what you said at -the inquest, Miss Strode, and then my silly wife--the first wife," -said Merry, correcting himself, "talked of it. But dreams are all -nonsense."</p> - -<p>"My dream was not, Giles. The body was brought home, and the five -knocks were given----"</p> - -<p>"By Butsey?" said Merry contemptuously; "bless you, Miss Eva, the -boy was hidden on the verge of the common when you and Mr. Allen -were walking on the night your father's body was brought home. You -told Mr. Allen your dream."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Eva, so you did," said Allen.</p> - -<p>"Well then, Butsey heard you, and being a little beast as he always -is, when he met those three men with the body he came too, and knocked -five times as you described to Mr. Allen. That for dreams," said -Merry, snapping his fingers.</p> - -<p>Eva was slightly disconcerted. "That is explained away," she said, -"but the laugh I heard in my dream, and heard just now in this -caravan, isn't. It was you who laughed, Giles, and you who shot my -father."</p> - -<p>Merry started, and a red spot appeared on his cheek. "I wonder if -Bell did kill him after all?" he murmured to himself; "she's got a -vile temper, and perhaps----"</p> - -<p>Allen was about to interrupt him, when there came a cry of dismay -from the circus tent, and then a shrill, terrible scream. "There's an -accident!" cried Merry, bounding past Eva and Allen, "White Robin's -done it at last," and he disappeared.</p> - -<p>The screams continued, and the noise in the tent. Suddenly there was -the sound of two shots, and then a roar from the audience. A crowd of -frightened women and children came pouring out. From the back came -Stag and Merry and Horace and others carrying the mangled body of -Miss Lorry. She was insensible and her face was covered with blood.</p> - -<p>The tears were streaming down Stag's face. "I knew that brute would -kill her some day," he said. "I always warned her--oh, poor Bell! -Take her into the van, gentlemen. She'll have the finest -funeral;--send for a doctor, can't you!"</p> - -<p>Eva shrank back in horror at the sight of that marred face. The -woman opened her eyes, and they rested on the girl. A flash of -interest came into them and then she fell back unconscious. Stag and -Merry carried her into the van, but Horace, surrendering his place -to another bearer, joined Allen and Miss Strode.</p> - -<p>"It was terrible," he said, wiping his face, which was pale and -grave, "after you left me to see Cain, Miss Lorry entered on her -white stallion. She was not very steady in the saddle--drink, I -fancy. Still she put the horse through some of his tricks all right. -But he seemed to be out of temper, and reared. She began to strike -him furiously with her whip, and quite lost her self-control. He grew -more savage and dashed her against the pole of the tent. How it -happened I can't say, but in a moment she was off and on the ground, -with the horse savaging her. Oh, the screams," said Horace, biting -his lips, "poor woman! I had my Derringer in my pocket and almost -without thinking I leaped into the ring and ran up to put a couple of -bullets through the brute's head. White Robin is dead, and poor Miss -Lorry soon will be," and he wiped his face again.</p> - -<p>Allen and Eva heard this recital horror-struck, and then a medical -man pushed past them. He was followed by a handsome boy in a red -jersey. "Cain--Cain," cried Eva, but he merely turned for a moment -and then disappeared into the van. Merry came out almost -immediately, still in his stage dress and looking ashy white.</p> - -<p>"She's done for," he whispered to Allen, "she can't live another hour," -the doctor says. "I'll change, and come back. Miss Eva," he added, -turning to the horror-struck girl, "you want to know who laughed in -the van? It was Miss Lorry."</p> - -<p>"Your wife?" said Eva, with pale lips; "then she----"</p> - -<p>"If you believe in that dream of yours, she did," said Merry, and -moved away before Allen could stop him. Cain appeared at the top of -the van steps.</p> - -<p>"Miss Eva?" he said, "she saw you, and she wants you."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" said Allen, holding the girl back.</p> - -<p>"I must," said Eva, breaking away; "you come too, Allen. I must -learn the truth. If Miss Lorry laughed"--she paused and looked -round, "oh, my dream--my dream!" she said, and ran up the steps.</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry was lying on the floor, with her head supported by a -cushion. Her face was pale and streaked with blood, but her eyes -were calm, and filled with recognition of Eva. The doctor, kneeling -beside the dying woman, was giving her some brandy, and Cain, in his -red jersey, with a small Bible in his hand, waited near the door. -Allen and Horace, with their hats off, stood behind him.</p> - -<p>"I'm--glad," said Miss Lorry, gasping; "I want to speak. Don't you -let--Saltars--marry you," she brought out the words with great force, -and her head fell back.</p> - -<p>"You mustn't talk," said the doctor faintly.</p> - -<p>"Am I dying?" she asked, opening her splendid eyes.</p> - -<p>The doctor nodded, and Cain came forward with the tears streaming -down his face, "Oh, let me speak, dear Miss Lorry," he said, "let -me pray----"</p> - -<p>"No," said the woman faintly, "I must talk to Miss Eva. I have much to -say. Come and kneel down beside me, dear."</p> - -<p>Eva did so, and took Miss Lorry's hand. The dying woman smiled. -"I'm glad to have you by me, when I pass," she said; "Mr. Hill, -White Robin--he didn't mean to. I was not well--I should not have -struck him."</p> - -<p>"He's dead," said the deep voice of the American; "I shot him."</p> - -<p>"Shot him!" said Miss Lorry, suddenly raising herself; "shot -who?--not Strode. It was I--it was I who----"</p> - -<p>"Miss Lorry--let me pray," cried Cain vehemently; "make your -peace with our dear, forgiving Master."</p> - -<p>"You're a good boy, Cain. You should have been my son. But I must -confess my sins before I ask forgiveness. Mr. Hill, have you -paper and a pencil?--ah, give me some brandy----"</p> - -<p>While the doctor did so, Horace produced a stylographic pen, and a -sheet of paper torn from his pocket-book. He passed these to Allen, -who also came and knelt by Miss Lorry. He quite understood that the -miserable creature was about to confess her crime. Stag appeared at -the door, but did not venture further. Cain saw him, and pushed him -back, "Let her die in peace," he said, and took Stag away.</p> - -<p>"Do you want us to remain?" said the doctor gently.</p> - -<p>"Yes. I want to tell every one what I did. Mr. Hill, write it down. I -hope to live to sign it."</p> - -<p>"I am ready," said Allen, placing the paper, and poising the pen.</p> - -<p>Miss Lorry had some more brandy. A light came into her eyes, and her -voice also became stronger.</p> - -<p>"Hold my hand," she said to Eva. "If you keep holding it, I'll -know you forgive me. I--I shot your father."</p> - -<p>"You--but why?" asked Eva, aghast.</p> - -<p>"Don't take away your hand--don't. Forgive me. I was mad. I knew -your father many years ago. He was cruel to me. Giles would have -been a better husband but for your father. When Strode--I can call -him Strode, can't I?--when he came back from South Africa, he came -to the circus, when we were near London. He found out my address -from Giles, with whom he had much to do, and not always doing the -best things either. Strode said he wanted to marry you to Saltars, -and he heard that Saltars wanted to marry me. He told me that -he would stop the marriage, by revealing that I was Giles's -wife--ah!----"</p> - -<p>Another sup of brandy gave her strength to go on, and Allen set -down all she said.--"I was furious. I wanted to be Lady Saltars: -besides, I loved him. I always loved him. I had such a cruel life -with Giles--I was so weary of riding--I thought I might die poor. -I have saved money--but not so much as I said. I told Saltars I -had five hundred a year: but I have only two hundred pounds -altogether. When that was gone, I thought I might starve. If my -beauty went--if I met with an accident--no, I could not face -poverty. Besides, I loved Saltars, I really loved him. I implored -your father to hold his tongue. Giles could say nothing, as I could -stop him by threatening to prosecute him for bigamy. Only your father -knew----"</p> - -<p>Again she had to gasp for breath, and then went on rapidly as though -she feared she would not last till she had told all. "Your father -behaved like a brute. I hated him. When he came that night to -Westhaven, I heard from Butsey of his arrival, and that he had gone to -the Red Deeps. How Butsey knew, I can't say. But I was not on in the -bills till very late--at the very end of the programme--I had a good, -quick horse, and saddled it myself--I took a pistol--I intended to -shoot your father, and close his mouth for ever. It was his own -fault--how could I lose Saltars, and face poverty and--disgrace?"</p> - -<p>There was another pause while Allen's pen set down what she said, and -then with an effort she continued: "I went to the Red Deeps and waited -behind some trees. It was close on nine. I saw your father waiting by -the spring. It was a kind of twilight, and, hidden by the bushes, I -was really quite near to him. He was waiting for some one. At first I -thought I would speak to him again, and implore his pity; but I knew -he would do nothing--I knew also he was going to Wargrove, and would -tell Mrs. Merry that I was her husband's wife. I waited my chance to -fire. I had tethered the horse some distance away. As I looked there -came a shot which evidently hit Strode on the arm, for he put his hand -up and wheeled round. I never stopped to think that some one was -trying to kill him also, or I should have let the work be done by that -person."</p> - -<p>"Did you know who the person was?"</p> - -<p>"No, I did not see," said Miss Lorry faintly; "I had no eyes save for -Strode. Oh, how I hated him!" a gleam of anger passed over her white -face. "When he wheeled to face the other person who shot, I saw that -his breast was turned fairly towards me. I shot him through the -heart. I was a good shot," added Miss Lorry proudly, "for I earned my -living in the circus at one time by shooting as the female -cowboy"--the incongruity of the phrase did not seem to strike her as -grotesque. "I heard some one running away, but I did not mind. I -sprang out of the bush and searched his pockets. I thought he might -have set down something about my marriage in his papers. I took the -blue pocket-book and then rode back quickly to Westhaven, where I -arrived in time for my turn. That's all. Let me sign it."</p> - -<p>She did so painfully, and then Allen and Horace appended their names -as witnesses.</p> - -<p>"How came the pocket-book into Merry's possession?" It was Allen who -asked, and Miss Lorry replied drowsily--</p> - -<p>"Butsey stole the pocket-book from my rooms. He saw the notes which I -left in it, and when I was out he found where I kept it. I believe -Merry took it from him, and then--oh, how weary I am!----"</p> - -<p>The doctor made a sign, and Allen, putting the confession into his -pocket, moved away with Horace. Eva bent down and kissed the dying -woman. "I forgive you," she said, "indeed I forgive you. You acted -under a sudden impulse and----"</p> - -<p>"Thank God you forgive me," said Miss Lorry.</p> - -<p>Eva would have spoken but that Cain drew her back. "Ask our Lord and -Master to forgive you," he said in piercing tones. "Oh, pray, Miss -Lorry--pray for forgiveness!"</p> - -<p>"I have been too great a sinner."</p> - -<p>"The greatest sinner may return; only ask Him to forgive!"</p> - -<p>Eva could bear the sight no longer; she walked quickly out of the -tent and almost fainted in Allen's arms as she came down the steps. -And within they heard the dying woman falteringly repeating the -Lord's prayer as Cain spoke it:</p> - -<p>"For-give us our tres-passes as we forgive those who----"</p> - -<p>Then the weaker voice died away, and only the clear tones of the lad -could be heard finishing the sublime petition.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIV</h4> - -<h5><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">THE WINDING OF THE SKEIN</a></h5> -<br> - -<p>A year after the death of Miss Lorry, two ladies sat in Mrs. Palmer's -drawing-room. One was the widow herself, looking as pretty and as -common as ever, although she now dressed in more subdued tints, -thanks to her companion's frequent admonitions. Eva was near her, -with a bright and expectant look on her face, as though she -anticipated the arrival of some one. It was many months since Allen -had gone out to Bolivia, and this day he was expected back with Mr. -Horace Parkins. Before he departed again for South America, a -ceremony would take place to convert Eva Strode into Mrs. Hill.</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I don't know what I shall do without you, Eva dear," said -the widow for the tenth time that day.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you'll have Mr. Parkins to console you, Constance."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Parkins, indeed?" said Mrs. Palmer tossing her head.--She and Eva -were both in evening-dress, and were waiting for the guests. Allen was -coming, also his mother and Mr. Parkins.--"I don't know why you should -say that, dear."</p> - -<p>Eva laughed. "I have seen a number of letters with the Bolivian -stamp on them, Constance----"</p> - -<p>"Addressed to you. I should think so. But something better than -letters is coming this evening, Eva."</p> - -<p>"Don't try to get out of the position," said Miss Strode, slipping -her arm round the waist of the widow; "you created it yourself. -Besides, Allen told me in his letter that Mr. Parkins talked of no -one and nothing but you. And think, dear, you won't have to alter -your initials, Constance Parkins sounds just as well as Constance -Palmer."</p> - -<p>"Better, I think. I don't deny that I like Mr. Parkins."</p> - -<p>"Call him Horace----"</p> - -<p>"He hasn't given me the right. You forget I saw him only for a month -or so, when he was home last."</p> - -<p>"You saw him long enough to fall in love with him."</p> - -<p>"I don't deny that--to you; but if he dares to ask me to be his wife, -I'll tell him what I think."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, and then we can be married on the same day;--I to Allen, -and you to Horace Parkins. Remember Horace is rich now--the mine has -turned out splendidly."</p> - -<p>"I'm rich enough without that," said Mrs. Palmer with a fine colour; -"if I marry, it will be to please myself. I have had quite enough of -marrying for money, and much good it's done me."</p> - -<p>"You have done every one good," said Eva, kissing her; "think how kind -you were to me, throughout that terrible time, when----"</p> - -<p>"Hark!" said Mrs. Palmer, raising a jewelled finger; "at last!"</p> - -<p>Shortly the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered, followed by Allen and -Horace and by Mr. Mask. Eva had already seen Allen, and Mrs. Palmer -had asked him and Horace to dinner, but both ladies were astonished -when they saw the lawyer. "Well, this is a surprise," said the widow, -giving her hand.</p> - -<p>"I thought I would come, as this is Allen's welcome home," said Mr. -Mask; "you don't mind?"</p> - -<p>"I am delighted."</p> - -<p>"And you, Miss Strode?"</p> - -<p>"I am pleased too. I look on you as one of my best friends," said Eva, -who did not forget that she owed Mrs. Palmer's protection to the -lawyer's kindness. "Mrs. Hill, how are you?"</p> - -<p>"I think you can call me mother now," said the old lady as she -greeted her son's promised wife with a kiss.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Allen, who looked bronzed and very fit, "I think, mother, -you are usurping my privilege."</p> - -<p>"Why should it be a privilege?" said Horace, casting looks at the -widow; "why not make it a universal custom?"</p> - -<p>"In that case I should----" began Mrs. Palmer.</p> - -<p>"No, you shouldn't," said Horace, "the world wouldn't let you."</p> - -<p>"Let me what? You don't know what I was about to say."</p> - -<p>Horace would have responded, but the gong thundered.</p> - -<p>"You were about to say that you hoped we were hungry," said Mask -slyly; "that is what a hostess usually says."</p> - -<p>"That," said Mrs. Palmer in her turn, "is a hint. Mr. Hill, will you -take in Eva?--Mr. Mask----"</p> - -<p>"I offer my arm to Mrs. Hill," said the old lawyer.</p> - -<p>"In that case," said the widow, smiling, and with a look at the big -American, "I must content myself with you."</p> - -<p>Horace said something which made her smile and blush, and then they -all went into a dainty meal, which every one enjoyed. After the -terrible experiences of a year ago, each person seemed bent upon -enjoyment, and the meal was a very bright one. When it was ended, the -gentlemen did not sit over their wine, but joined the ladies almost -immediately. Mrs. Palmer and Mrs. Hill were in the drawing-room -talking in low tones, but Eva was nowhere to be seen. Allen looked -around, and Mrs. Palmer laughed at the sight of his anxious face. -"You'll find her in the garden," she said; "it's quite a perfect night -of the Indian summer, therefore----"</p> - -<p>Allen did not wait for further information. He departed at once and -by the quickest way, directly through the French window, which -happened to be open. A few steps along the terrace, under a full -moon, showed him Eva walking on the lawn. At once he sprang down the -steps. "Don't walk on the grass, you foolish child," he said, taking -her arm, "you'll get your feet damp."</p> - -<p>"It's too delicious a night for that," said Eva, lifting her lovely -face to the silver moon; "but we can sit in the arbour----"</p> - -<p>"Don't you think Parkins will want that? He's bound to come out with -Mrs. Palmer, and then----"</p> - -<p>"Does he really mean to propose?"</p> - -<p>"He's been talking of nothing else for the last few months, and has -come home for that precise purpose. But for that, he would have -remained with Mark at the mine. Poor Mark has all the work, and we -have all the fun. But I was determined to come to you and make sure -that you hadn't married Saltars after all."</p> - -<p>"Poor Saltars," said Eva, smiling, "he did come and ask me; but his -heart was not in the proposal. That terrible grandmother of mine urged -him to the breach. He seemed quite glad when I declined."</p> - -<p>"What bad taste," said Allen laughing.</p> - -<p>"I think he really loved that poor woman who died," said Eva in low -tones, "and she certainly loved him, when she committed so daring a -crime for his sake."</p> - -<p>"It might have been ambition as well as love, Eva, and it certainly -was a fear of starvation in her old age. Miss Lorry wanted to make -herself safe for a happy time, and so when she found your father was -likely to rob her of an expected heaven, she shot him."</p> - -<p>"I wish the truth had not been made public, though," said Eva.</p> - -<p>"My dear, it was necessary, so as to remove all blame from any one who -may have been suspected. Poor Stag, however, was not able to give Miss -Lorry the splendid funeral he wished to give, out of respect. As you -know, she was buried very quietly. Only Horace and I and Saltars -followed her to her grave."</p> - -<p>"Didn't her husband?"</p> - -<p>"Giles Merry? No: he never came back, even to see her die. The man -was a brute always. He went off to Africa, I believe, with the money -he borrowed--that's a polite way of putting it--from old Lady Ipsen. -I suppose Mrs. Merry was glad when she heard he was out of the -country?"</p> - -<p>Eva nodded. "And yet I think if he had come back, she would have faced -him. Ever since she knew he was not her husband, she seemed to lose -her fear of him. She still calls herself Mrs. Merry for Cain's sake. -No one knows the truth, save you and I and Lady Ipsen."</p> - -<p>"Well it's best to let things remain as they are. I trust Mrs. Merry -is more cheerful?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes; the fact is, Cain has converted her."</p> - -<p>"Oh, has Cain taken up his residence in Misery Castle?"</p> - -<p>Eva laughed. "It is called the House Beautiful now," she said; "Cain -got the name out of the <i>Pilgrim's Progress</i>., and he lives there with -his mother and his wife."</p> - -<p>"What, did he marry Jane Wasp after all?"</p> - -<p>"He did, some months after you left. Wasp was very much against the -match, as he called Cain a vagabond."</p> - -<p>"Well he was, you know."</p> - -<p>"He is not now. After he joined the Salvation Army he changed -completely and is quite a different person. But even then, Wasp would -not have allowed the match to take place, but that Cain inherited two -hundred pounds from Miss Lorry."</p> - -<p>"Ah, poor soul," said Allen sympathetically, "she talked of that sum -when she was dying. Why did she leave it to Cain?"</p> - -<p>"She always liked Cain, and I think she was sorry for the slur on his -birth cast by his father. But she left him the money, and then Wasp -found out that Cain was a most desirable son-in-law."</p> - -<p>"Does he still belong to the Army?"</p> - -<p>"No. Wasp insisted he should leave. So Cain lives at the House -Beautiful and preaches throughout the country. I believe he is to -become a Methodist minister shortly. At all events, Allen, he is -making his poor mother happy, after all the misery she has had."</p> - -<p>"And how do Mrs. Merry and Wasp get along?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, they rarely see one another, which is just as well. Wasp has been -moved to Westhaven at a higher salary, and is getting along -capitally."</p> - -<p>"I suppose he drills his household as much as ever," laughed Allen; -"let us walk, Eva. We can sit on the terrace."</p> - -<p>Eva pinched Allen's arm, and he looked, to see Horace sauntering down -the path with Mrs. Palmer. They were making for the arbour. The other -lovers therefore sat on the terrace, so as to afford Horace plenty of -time to propose. And now, Allen, said Eva, I must ask you a few -questions. "What of Father Don and his gang?"</p> - -<p>"No one knows. I heard that Red Jerry had been caught by the -Continental police for some robbery. But Foxy and Father Don have -vanished into space with their loot. I regret those diamonds."</p> - -<p>"I don't," said Eva proudly; "I would much rather live as your wife on -your money, Allen."</p> - -<p>"On my own earnings, you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, though you will be very rich when your mother dies."</p> - -<p>"I hope that won't be for a long time," said Allen gravely; "poor -mother, she had a sad life with my father."</p> - -<p>"Why did he go mad so suddenly, Allen?"</p> - -<p>"The shock of those diamonds being carried off, I suppose, Eva. But he -was mad when he stole that wooden hand. Where is it?"</p> - -<p>"Buried in the vault. We put it there," said Eva, shuddering; "I -never wish to see it again. Look at the misery it caused. But why did -your father steal it?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind. He was mad, and that's the best that can be said. It was -just as well he died while I was away. He would only have lingered on, -an imbecile. I wish my mother would give up the house and come out -with us to Bolivia, Eva."</p> - -<p>"We might be able to persuade her. But there's one question I want to -ask: What's become of Butsey? I haven't heard of him, since he left -Mr. Mask."</p> - -<p>Allen laughed. "Yes; he gave Mask the slip very smartly," he said, -"a dangerously clever lad is Butsey. I heard he was in America. A -fine field for his talents he'll find there."</p> - -<p>"Why did he tell lies about Giles Merry?"</p> - -<p>"Because he hated Merry, and wanted to save Miss Lorry. He knew all -the time that Miss Lorry was guilty, but would have hanged Giles to -save her. Had she not confessed, Giles, with that brat lying in the -witness-box, would have been in a strange plight."</p> - -<p>"Would they have tried Butsey, had he not got away?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say. Perhaps they would. I am not a good lawyer. You had -better ask Mask. However, the boy's gone, and I dare say he'll -some day be lynched in the States. People like him always come to -a bad end, Eva. Well, any more questions?"</p> - -<p>"I can't think of any. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>Allen took her hands, and looked into her eyes. "Because I want to put -the old bad past out of our minds. I want you to ask what you wish to -ask, and I'll answer. Then we'll drop the subject for ever."</p> - -<p>"There's nothing more I want to know," said Eva after a pause; -"tell me about our house, Allen."</p> - -<p>He kissed her, and then told of the quaint Spanish house in the -sleepy old Spanish town, and told also of the increasing wealth -of the silver mine. "We'll all be millionaires in a few years, -Eva, and then we can return to Europe and take a house in -London."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not in Wargrove," said Eva, shivering. "I want to -forget this place with all its horrors. My dream----"</p> - -<p>"Don't talk of it, Eva. We'll be married next week, and then life -will be all joy for us both. Ah, here is Mrs. Palmer!----"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Parkins that is to be," said the male figure by the widow's -side; "we're going to travel together."</p> - -<p>"I am so glad, Constance," said Eva, kissing her.</p> - -<p>"What about me, Miss Strode?" asked the envious American.</p> - -<p>"I'll salute you by proxy in this way," said Eva, and kissed Allen.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Horace!" sighed Mrs. Palmer, and sank into her lover's arms.</p> - -<p>So all four were happy, and the troubles of the past gave place to -the joys of the present. The evil augury of Eva's dream was -fulfilled--the dark night was past, and joy was coming in the -morning. So after all, good had come out of evil.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE END.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>Printed by T. and A. 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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: The Wooden Hand - A Detective Story - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: July 12, 2017 [EBook #55102] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODEN HAND *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books(University of Wisconsin Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=fUk2AQAAMAAJ - the University of Wisconsin--Madison - - - - - - -Bell's Indian and Colonial Library -__________________________________ - - - - - -THE WOODEN HAND - - - - - - -THE WOODEN HAND - -A DETECTIVE STORY - - -BY -FERGUS HUME - -AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," -"THE GUILTY HOUSE," "THE SILVER BULLET," -"THE LONELY CHURCH," "THE WHITE ROOM," -ETC. ETC. ETC. - - - -LONDON -GEORGE BELL AND SONS -1905 - - - - - - -_This Edition is issued for circulation in India and the Colonies -only_. - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAP. - -I. MISERY CASTLE -II. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM -III. THE NE'ER-DO-WEEL -IV. MYSTERY -V. A STRANGE LOSS -VI. THE WARNING -VII. THE INQUEST -VIII. A NEW LIFE -IX. THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL -X. MRS. HILL EXPLAINS -XI. ALLEN AS A DETECTIVE -XII. LORD SALTARS -XIII. THE OTHER WOMAN -XIV. SIGNOR ANTONIO -XV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING -XVI. MR. HILL'S STORY -XVII. A FRIEND IN NEED -XVIII. THE FINDING OF BUTSEY -xxx. MRS. MERRY'S VISITORS -XX. AN AMAZING CONFESSION -XXI. THE DIAMONDS -XXII. BUTSEY'S STORY -XXIII. MISS LORRY'S LAST APPEARANCE -XXIV. THE WINDING OF THE SKEIN - - - - - - -THE WOODEN HAND - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MISERY CASTLE - - -"Ah well, Miss Eva, I 'spose your pa'ull come home to spile things -as he allays have done. It ain't no wonder, I ses, as you sits -moping by the winder, looking double your age, and you only twenty, -as has no right to look forty, whatever you may say, though I took -my dying alfred-david on its blessed truth." - -This slightly incoherent and decidedly pessimistic speech was moaned, -rather than spoken, by a lean-bodied, hard-faced, staring-eyed woman -to a pretty girl, who did not look at the speaker. And small wonder. -Mrs. Merry--inappropriate name--was unattractive to the eye. She was -angular, grey-skinned, grey-eyed, grey-haired, and had thin, drooping -lips almost as grey as the rest of her. In her black stuff gown--she -invariably wore the most funereal dresses--with uneasy hands folded -under a coarse apron, she stood before Eva Strode, uttering -lamentations worthy of Jeremiah at his worst. But such dumpishness was -characteristic of the woman. She delighted in looking on the black -side of things, and the blacker they were, the more she relished them. -Out of wrong-doing, and grief and things awry, she extracted a queer -sort of pleasure, and felt never so happy as when the worst came to -the worst. It seemed unfit that such a walking pageant of woe should -be called Merry. - -Eva, already depressed by the voice and sentiment of this -lamentable dame, continued to look at the gaudy hollyhocks, even -while she answered calmly, "I expect my father is the same as he -was when he went to South Africa five years ago. I don't hope to -find him an angel. I am certain he has not changed." - -"If you're thinking of black angels," said the lively Merry, "you -can have satisfactions from thinking him Beelzebub, for him he -are." - -"Don't call my father names. It does no good, Mrs. Merry." - -"Beg pardon, miss, but it do relieve the heart and temper. And I will -call him a leper, if that's a name, seeing as he'll never change his -spots, however persuaded." - -"What's the time?" - -Mrs. Merry peered into the dial of a clock on the mantelpiece. "You -might call it six, Miss Eva, and a lovely evening it is, though rain -may spile it unexpected. Your pa 'ull be seated at the table in the -next room at eight, let us hope, if nothing do happen to him, and I -do pray on my bended knees, Miss Eva, as he won't growl at the meal, -his habit allays when your poor dear ma--her ladyship was alive. Ah -well," said Mrs. Merry with emphasis, "_she's_ an angel now, and your -pa ain't likely to trouble her again." - -"Why, don't you think my father may come home? I mean, why do you -fancy anything may happen to him?" - -"Oh, I ain't got no cause, but what you might call the -uncertainties of this vale of tears, Miss Eva. He have to drive -ten mile here from the Westhaven station, and there's tramps -about them lonely roads. Coming from South Africa, your pa 'ull -naturally have diamonds to tempt the poor." - -"I don't know what he has got," said Eva rather pettishly. "And -no one, save you and me, know he is returning from Africa." - -"No one, Miss Eva?" questioned the woman significantly. - -Miss Strode coloured. "I told Mr. Hill." - -"And he told his pa, and his pa, who have a long tongue, told all -the village, I don't doubt. If ever there was a man as fiddled -away his days in silliness," cried Merry, "it's that pink and -white jelly-fish as you call Hills." - -"Hill," corrected Miss Strode; then added colouring: "His son -doesn't take after him." - -"No," admitted the other grudgingly, "I will say as Mr. Allen is -a tight lad. His mother gave him her blood and sense and looks; -not that I say he's worthy of you, Miss Eva." - -"Mrs. Merry," said Eva quietly, "you let your tongue run on too -freely about my friends." - -"Not the father Hills, if I die in saying it. He's no friend of -yours, seeing he's your pa's; and as to Mr. Allen, I never had -a sweetheart as I called friend, when you could call him -something better." - -Eva took no notice of this speech, but continued, "You are my -old nurse, Mrs. Merry, and I allow you to talk openly." - -"For your good, Miss Eva," put in Merry. - -"For my good, I know," said the girl; "but you must not run down -Allen's father or mine." - -"As to _his_ father, I say nothing but that he's a drivelling -jelly-fish," said Mrs. Merry, who would not be suppressed; "but your -own pa I know, worse luck, and I don't think much of him as a man, -whatever I say about his being Beelzebub, which he is. Fifty years and -more he is, fine-looking at that, though wickedness is in his aching -bones. Not that I know of their aching," explained Mrs. Merry, "but if -sin would make 'em smart, ache they do. You've been happy with me, -Miss Eva, dear, in spite of a humble roof and your poor ma's death, -four and a half year back. But your pa's come home to make trouble. -Satan let loose is what I call him, and if I could stop his coming by -twisting his wicked neck, I would." - -"Mrs. Merry!" Eva rose quickly and flushed. "You forget yourself." - -"There," said Mrs. Merry, casting up her eyes; "and I fed her with my -own milk." - -Eva, who was tenderly attached to the angular, dismal, chattering -woman, could not withstand this remark. "Dear Nanny," she said, -comforting the wounded heart, "I know you mean well, but my father -_is_ my father after all." - -"Worse luck, so he is," sobbed Mrs. Merry, feeling for Eva's hand. - -"I wish to think of him as kindly as I can, and----" - -"Miracles won't make you do that," interrupted the woman, dropping -her apron from her eyes, and glaring. "Miss Eva, I knew your pa when -he was a bad boy, both him and me being neighbours, as you might -say, though I did live in a cottage and he in a Manor House not two -mile from here. He and that jelly-fish of a Hills were always -together doing mischief, and setting neighbours by the ears, though -I do say as your pa, being masterful, led that jelly-fish away. -Then your pa ran away with Lady Jane Delham, your ma, as is dead, -and treated her shameful. She come here to me, as an old friend, -for friend I was, tho' humble," sobbed Mrs. Merry weeping again, -"and you were born. Then your pa takes you away and I never set -eyes on you and my lady till five years ago when he brought you -here. To settle down and make you happy? No! not he. Away he goes -gallivanting to South Africa where the blacks are, leaving a lady -born and bred and his daughter just a bud, meaning yourself, to -live with a common woman like me!" - -"I have been very happy, Nanny, and my mother was happy also, when she -was alive." - -"Ah," said Mrs. Merry bitterly, "a queer sort of happiness, to be -that way when your husband goes. I've had a trial myself in Merry, -who's dead, and gone, I hope, where you'll find your pa will join -him. But you'll see, Miss Eva, as your pa will come and stop your -marrying Mr. Allen." - -"I think that's very likely," said Eva sadly. - -"What," said Mrs. Merry under her breath, and rising, "he's at it -already is he? I thought so." - -"I received a letter from him the other day," explained Eva; -"knowing your prejudice against my father, I said nothing." - -"Me not to be trusted, I 'spose, Miss Eva?" was the comment. - -"Nonsense. I trust you with anything." - -"And well you may. I fed you with my heart's blood, and foster -sister you are to my boy Cain, though, Lord knows, he's as bad as his -father was before him--the gipsy whelp that he is. Not on my side, -though," cried Mrs. Merry. "I'm true English, and why I ever took up -with a Romany rascal like Giles Merry, I don't know. But he's dead, I -hope he is, though I never can be sure, me not knowing where's his -grave. Come now," Mrs. Merry gave her face a wipe with the apron, -"I'm talking of my own troubles, when yours is about. That -letter----?" - -"It is one in answer to mine. I wrote to Cape Town three months ago -telling my father that I was engaged to Allen Hill. He wrote the other -day--a week ago--from Southampton, saying he would not permit the -marriage to take place, and bade me wait till he came home." - -"Trouble! trouble," said Mrs. Merry, rocking; "I know the man. Ah, my -dear, don't talk. I'm thinking for your good." - -It was hot outside, though the sun was sinking and the cool twilight -shadowed the earth. The hollyhocks, red and blue and white and -yellow, a blaze of colour, were drooping their heads in the warm air, -and the lawn looked brown and burnt for want of rain. Not a breath of -wind moved the dusty sycamore trees which divided the cottage from -the high-road, and the crimson hue of the setting sun steeped -everything in its sinister dye. Perhaps it was this uncanny evening -that made Eva Strode view the home-coming of her father with such -uneasiness, and the hostility and forebodings of Mrs. Merry did not -tend to reassure her. With her hand on that dismal prophetess's -shoulder, she stood silently looking out on the panting world bathed -in the ruddy light. It was as though she saw the future through a -rain of blood. - -Misery Castle was the name of the cottage, and Mrs. Merry was -responsible for the dreary appellation. Her life had been hard -and was hard. Her husband had left her, and her son, following in -his father's footsteps, was almost constantly absent in London, -in more than questionable company. Mrs. Merry therefore called -the cottage by as dismal a name as she could think of. Even Eva, -who protested against the name, could not get the steadfastly -dreary woman to change it. "Misery dwells in it, my dear lamb," -said Mrs. Merry, "and Misery it shall be called. Castle it ain't -from the building of it, but Castle it is, seeing the lot of -sorrow that's in it. Buckingham Palace and the Tower wouldn't -hold more, and more there will be, when that man comes home with -his wicked sneering face, father though he be to you, my poor -young lady." - -It was a delightful cottage, with whitewashed walls covered with -creepers, and a thatched roof, grey with wind and weather and the -bleaching of the sun. The rustic porch was brilliant with red -roses, and well-kept garden-beds bloomed with rainbow-hued -flowers seasonable to the August month. To the right this domain -was divided from a wide and gorse-covered common by an ancient -wall of mellow-hued brick, useful for the training of peach-trees: -to the left a low hedge, with unexpected gaps, ran between the -flower-beds and a well-stocked orchard. This last extended some -distance, and ended in a sunken fence, almost buried in nettles and -rank weeds. Beyond stretched several meadows, in which cows -wandered, and further still, appeared fields of wheat, comfortable -farm-houses, clumps and lines of trees, until the whole fertile -expanse terminated at the foot of low hills, so far away that they -looked blue and misty. A smiling corn-land, quite Arcadian in its -peace and beauty. - -Along the front of the cottage and under the dusty sycamore trees -ran a high-road which struck straightly across the common, slipped -by Misery Castle, and took its way crookedly through Wargrove -village, whence it emerged to twist and turn for miles towards the -distant hills and still more distant London town. Being the king's -highway it was haunted by tramps, by holiday vans filled with -joyous folk, and by fashionable motor-cars spinning noisily at -illegal speed. But neither motor-cars, nor vans, nor tramps, nor -holidaymakers stopped at Wargrove village, unless for a moment or -two at the one public-house on thirsty days. These went on -ten miles further across the common to Westhaven, a rising -watering-place at the Thames mouth. So it will be seen that the -publicity of the highway afforded Eva a chance of seeing the world -on wheels, and diversified her somewhat dull existence. - -And it was dull, until a few months ago. Then Allen Hill came home -from South America, where he had been looking after mines. The -young people met and subsequently fell in love. Three months before -the expected arrival of Mr. Strode they became engaged with the -consent of Allen's parents but without the knowledge of Eva's -father. However, being a dutiful daughter to a man who did not -deserve such a blessing, she wrote and explained herself. The reply -was the letter, mention of which she had made to Mrs. Merry. And Mrs. -Merry prognosticated trouble therefrom. - -"I know the man--I know the man," moaned Mrs. Merry, rocking herself, -"he'll marry you to some one else for his ambitions, drat him." - -"That he shall never do," flashed out Eva. - -"You have plenty of spirit, Miss Eva, but he'll wear you out. He -wore out Lady Jane, your ma, as is now where he will never go. -And was it this that set you moping by the winder, my dear -lamb?" - -Eva returned to her former seat. "Not altogether." She -hesitated, and then looked anxiously at her old nurse, who stood -with folded arms frowning and rigid. "You believe in dreams, -Mrs. Merry?" - -"As I believe that Merry was a scoundrel, and that my boy will -take after him, as he does," said the woman, nodding sadly; -"misery ain't surer nor dreams, nor taxes which allays come -bringing sorrow and summonses with 'em. So you dreamed last -night?" - -"Yes. You know I went to bed early. I fell asleep at eight and -woke at nine, trembling." - -"Ah!" Mrs. Merry drew nearer--"'twas a baddish dream?" - -"A horrible dream--it was, I think, two dreams." - -"Tell it to me," said the old woman, her eyes glittering. - -Eva struck her closed fist on the sill. "No," she cried -passionately, "it's impossible to tell it. I wish to forget." - -"You'll remember it well enough when the truth comes." - -"Do you think anything will come of it?" - -"It's as sure as sure," said Mrs. Merry. - -Eva, less superstitious, laughed uneasily, and tried to turn the -subject. "Allen will be at the gate soon," she said. "I'm walking to -the common with him for an hour." - -"Ah well," droned Mrs. Merry, "take your walk, Miss Eva. You won't -have another when _he_ comes home." - -"Nurse!" Eva stamped her foot and frowned. "You make my father out to -be a----" - -"Whatever I make him out to be, I'll never get near what he is," -said Mrs. Merry viciously. "I hate him. He ruined my Giles, not as -Giles was much to boast of. Still, I could have talked him into -being a stay-at-home, if your pa--there--there--let him be, say I. -If his cup is full he'll never come home alive." - -Eva started and grew deathly pale. "My dream--my dream," she said. - -"Ah yes!" Mrs. Merry advanced and clutched the girl's wrist. "You -saw him dead or dying, eh, eh?" - -"Don't, nurse; you frighten me," said Miss Strode, releasing her -wrist; then she thought for a moment. "My dream or dreams," said -she after a pause, went something after this fashion. "I thought I -was in the Red Deeps----" - -"Five miles from here," muttered Mrs. Merry, hugging herself. "I know -the place--who better? Red clay and a splash of water, however dry." - -"Ah, you are thinking of the spring!" said Eva starting; "it was there -I saw--oh no--no," and she closed her eyes to shut out the sight. - -"What was it--what was it?" asked Mrs. Merry eagerly; "death?" - -"He was lying face downward in the moist red clay beside the spring of -the Red Deeps!" - -"Who was lying?" - -"I don't know. I seemed to see the place and the figure of a man in -dark clothes lying face downward, with his hands twisted helplessly in -the rank grasses. I heard a laugh too--a cruel laugh, but in my dream -I saw no one else. Only the dead man, face downward," and she stared -at the carpet as though she saw the gruesome sight again. - -"How do you know 'twas your father's corpse?" croaked the old woman. - -"I didn't think it was--I didn't tell you it was," panted Eva, -flushing and paling with conflicting emotions. - -"Ah," interpreted Mrs. Merry, "some one he killed, perhaps." - -"How dare you--how dare----? Nurse," she burst out, "I believe it -_was_ my father lying dead there--I saw a white-gloved right hand." - -"Your pa, sure enough," said the woman grimly. "His wooden hand, eh? -I know the hand. He struck me with it once. Struck me," she cried, -rising and glaring, "with my own husband standing by. But Giles was -never a man. So your pa was dead, wooden hand and all, in the Red -Deeps? Did you go there to see, this day?" - -"No, no," Eva shuddered, "it was only a dream." - -"Part of one, you said." - -Miss Strode nodded. "After I saw the body and the white glove on the -wooden hand glimmering in the twilight--for twilight it was in my -dream--I seemed to sink into darkness, and to be back in my bed--yes, -in my bed in the room across the passage." - -"Ah! you woke then?" said Mrs. Merry, disappointed. - -"No, I swear I was not awake. I was in my bed asleep, dreaming, for I -heard footsteps--many footsteps come to the door--to the front door, -then five knocks----" - -"Five," said the woman, surprised. - -"Five knocks. One hard and four soft. Then a voice came telling me -to take in the body. I woke with a cry, and found it was just after -nine o'clock." - -"Well, well," chuckled the old woman, "if Robert Strode is dead----" - -"You can't be sure of that," said Eva fiercely, and regretted -telling this dismal woman her dream. - -"You saw the gloved hand--the wooden hand?" - -"Bah! It is only a dream." - -"Dreams come true. I've known 'em to come true," said Mrs. Merry, -rising, "and to-morrow I go to the Red Deeps to see." - -"But my father comes home to-night." - -"No," said Mrs. Merry, with the mien of a sibyl, "he'll never come -home agin to the house where he broke a woman's heart." - -And she went out laughing and muttering of the Red Deeps. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM - - -Eva Strode was an extremely pretty blonde. She had golden-brown -hair which glistened in the sunshine, hazel eyes somewhat -meditative in expression, and a complexion that Mrs. Merry, in her -odd way, compared to mixed roses and milk. Her nose was delicate -and straight, her mouth charming and sensitive, and if it drooped -a trifle at the corners, she had good cause for so melancholy a -twist. Her figure was so graceful that envious women, less -favoured by Nature, suggested padding: but these same depreciators -could say nothing against her hands and feet, which were -exquisitely formed. Usually Eva, cunning enough to know that her -beauty needed no adornment, dressed in the very plainest fashions. -At the present moment she was arrayed in a pale blue dress of some -coarse material, and wore a large straw hat swathed in azure -tulle. An effective touch of more pronounced colour appeared in -the knot of red ribbon at her throat and the bunch of crimson -roses thrust into her waistband. She looked dainty, well-bred, -charming, and even the malignant female eye would have found -little to blame. But the female eye generally did find fault. Eva -was much too pretty a girl to escape remark. - -This vision of loveliness walked demurely down the garden path to -gladden the eyes of a young man lingering at the gate. He, eagerly -expecting the descent of Venus, quickly removed his Panama hat, and -looked at the goddess with admiring eyes, eloquent of unspoken -praise. Eva, feeling, rather than meeting, their fervid gaze, halted -within the barrier and blushed as red as the roses in her belt. Then -she ventured to look at her lover, and smiled a welcome. - -Certainly the lover was not unworthy of the lass, so far as looks -went. Allen Hill was as dark as Eva was fair. Indeed, he more -resembled a Spaniard than an Englishman. His oval face, smooth and -clean-shaven save for a small, smartly pointed moustache, was -swarthy, his eyes were wonderfully black and large, and his closely -clipped hair might be compared to the hue of the raven's wing. His -slim figure was clothed in white flannels, so well cut and spotless -that they conveyed a suspicion that the young gentleman was something -of a dandy. He looked more like a poet than a mining engineer. - -Yet an engineer he was, and had travelled over the greater part of -the world with his eyes open. These looked languid enough as a rule, -but they could blaze with a fighting light, as his associates in the -lands at the back of Beyond knew. At thirty years of age Allen knew -quite as much as was good for him, and knew also how to utilise his -knowledge. In many lands he had seen fair women, but none had -captured his heart as had this dewy, fragrant English rose. - -Six months earlier the two had met at a garden party. Allen came and -saw, and Eva--as women always do--conquered. The engineer's heart, -being tinder, caught fire easily and began to blaze with a fiery -flame not to be extinguished by reason. Eva herself, not being -tame either, rather liked this Sabine courtship, and did not leave -Allen long in doubt as to the way in which she regarded his -audacious advances. The result was that in a few months they became -engaged, and the flower-time of their love came almost as -speedily as did that of Romeo and Juliet. But now, as Eva well knew, -the common sense of the world was about to chill their ardour. She -had this very evening to inform this eager, whole-hearted lover -that her father refused to sanction the engagement. No easy task, -seeing she loved the man with her whole heart and soul. - -"My dear, my love," murmured Allen, as the gate closed behind -the girl: and he would have embraced her in the public road, but -that she dexterously evaded his widely spread arms. - -"Not here--not here," she whispered hurriedly, and with a fine -colour; "it's too public, you stupid boy." - -The stupid boy, cheated of his treat, glared up and down the road, -"I don't see any one," he grumbled. - -"Eyes at those windows," said Eva, waving a slim hand towards a -row of thatched cottages, "and tongues also." - -"I am not ashamed of our love. I wish the whole world knew of it." - -"The whole world probably does," rejoined Miss Strode, a trifle -drily; "if any one saw you with those eyes and that look, -and--oh, you ridiculous boy!" and she shook her finger at him. - -"Oh, you coquette. Can't we----" - -"On the common we can talk, if that is what you mean," said Eva, -turning away to trip up the dusty road; "the common," she cried -with a backward look which should have drawn the young man after -her at a fine pace. - -But Allen lingered for a moment. Deeply in love as he was, he had -his own ideas regarding the management of the fair sex. He knew that -when a woman is sure of her swain she is apt to be exacting, so as -to check his ardour. On the other hand, if the swain hangs back, the -maid comes forward with winsome looks. Hitherto, Allen had been all -passion and surrender. Now he thought he would tease Eva a little, -by not coming immediately to her beck and call. Therefore, while she -skipped ahead--and without looking back, so sure was she that Allen -followed--the young man lighted a cigarette, and when the smoke -perfumed the air, looked everywhere save in the direction he desired -to look. North, south, west looked Allen, but never east, where -could be seen the rising sun of his love. But passion proved to be -stronger than principle, and finally his eyes fastened on the -shadowy figure of Eva pausing on the edge of the common. She was -looking back now, and beckoned with persuasive finger. Allen made a -step forward to follow the siren, then halted. A strange feeling -took possession of him. Allen's mother was Scotch, and having the -impressionable Celtic nature, he was quick to feel the influences of -that unseen world which lies all round, invisible to dull eyes, and -unfelt by material souls. At the moment, in spite of the warmth, he -had what the Scotch call a "grue," and shivered where he stood. At -his back sank the sun red and angry, peering through lines of black -cloud suggestive of prison bars. The scarlet light flooded the -landscape in a sinister manner, and dyed the flitting figure of Eva -in crimson hues. She looked as though bathed in blood, and--as she -was now speeding towards the trysting place--as though she fled from -justice. Also, she ran from the red west into the gloom of the east, -already shadowy with the coming night. Was there no parable in this? -considered Allen, and shivered again. - -"Indigestion," thought Allen, striving to throw off that weird feeling -and trying to explain it in the most commonplace way. But he knew well -that he had never in his life suffered from indigestion, and that the -feeling--which had now passed away--was a hint of coming evil. "To me, -I hope," murmured the young man, stepping out briskly, "not to Eva, -poor darling." - -When he joined the girl, he was quite his old fervid self, and felt -his premonitions pass away in the charm of the hour. Even the sunset -was less scarlet and more of a rosy tint like his new thoughts. He -threw himself at the feet of his beloved, cast away his cigarette, and -took her hand within his. For the moment Dan Cupid was king. - -But was he? Eva did not appear to think so. She allowed her hand to -remain in Allen's warm grip, but he felt no responsive pressure. -The two were seated on a rustic bench within a circle of flowering -gorse. The sward was green and smooth, worthy of the dancing feet -of Titania's elves, and perhaps it might have been one of their -ballrooms the lovers had invaded. In that case it would certainly -prove unhappy ground to them. The fairies do not like mortals, -however loving, who intrude on their privacy. The elves, however, -not yet awakened by the moon, made no sign, and in that still place -no sound could be heard. Overhead was the flushed sky, underfoot -the emerald sward, and there were the lovers supplied with an -admirable stage on which to play their parts. Allen was willing -enough, and looked up adoringly into the face of his Juliet. But -Eva's gaze was fixed on the orange-hued blossom of the gorse with a -far-away look. And when she spoke, it certainly was not of love. - -"Allen," she said, in a calm, level voice, "we have known each other -for nearly a year." - -"Call it a century," said Allen, kissing her hand. "I love you and -you love me. Why talk of time? Love like ours lives in eternity." - -"Hum," said Eva, although the ejaculation was not a pretty one, the -question is, "Will it live at all?" - -"Eva!" He raised himself on his elbow and stared; but the girl -continued to speak without looking at him. - -"Do you know my history, Allen?" she asked; then without waiting for -his reply, went on in a passionless way: "My father is the last -Strode of Wargrove. The manor house of our race is only a few miles -away, and there the Strodes lived for centuries. My grandfather, -however, was an extravagant man, and lost all the money. When my -father returned from Oxford to take up his position in the world, he -found that his father was dead and that the estate would have to be -sold to pay the debts. In that way, Allen, the manor passed from our -family." - -"I have heard something of this, Eva," said the perplexed young -man; "but why waste time in telling me of it now?" - -"You will find the time will not be wasted," rejoined Eva, -glancing down with something like pity; "let me go on. My -father, brought up in a luxurious way, took what money there -was left and went to seek work in London. He speculated, and -knowing nothing about speculation he lost everything. Then your -father, who was his friend at school and college, lent him some -thousands, and my father, to better his position, married Lady -Jane Delham, daughter of the Earl of Ipsen. I understand that -the money which she brought with her, was lost also--in -speculation." - -"But why did your father speculate so much?" asked Allen. - -"His one desire was to buy back the manor," said Eva. "He -has much pride of race, and wants to end his days under -the roof where he was born. But let me go on once more. The -money was lost, and Lord Ipsen died. His title went to a -distant cousin, who did not like my mother, consequently there -was no chance of my father getting more money in that quarter. I -was born under Mrs. Merry's roof; but till the age of seven I -lived with my mother in a small Hampstead cottage. My father -went on speculating. Sometimes he made money, at other times he -lost it; but always, he followed the will-o'-the-wisp of -fortune, hoping to get back his old home. He then went to South -America, and took my mother with him. I was placed at school, -and until I was fifteen I never saw my parents." - -"Poor Eva, how lonely you must have been!" - -"I _was_ lonely, and yet--having seen so little of my parents I -don't know that I missed them so very much. My father stopped in Peru -till I was fifteen, and my mother with him. He came back poor, but -with sufficient money to speculate again. He therefore placed my -mother and me in Misery Castle." - -"Ridiculous name," muttered Allen uneasily. - -"A very appropriate name," said Eva with some bitterness, seeing -how unhappy Mrs. Merry is. "She had a bad husband and has a bad son. -My mother was also unhappy. Meeting her again after all those -years, I did my best to comfort her. But her heart was broken." - -"Your father?" asked Allen in a low voice. - -"Who else?" replied Eva, flushing, and the water came to her eyes. -"Oh! Allen, I do not wish to speak ill, or to think ill, of my -father; but--no," she broke off, suppressing herself. "I cannot -speak from what I have seen, and I judge no one, let alone my -father, on what I have heard. Mrs. Merry thinks badly of my father, -and my poor mother--ah! my poor mother! she said as little as she -could. But her heart was broken, Allen; she died of a broken heart -and a crushed spirit. I lost her five months after my father went -to seek his fortune in South Africa, and since then I have lived -alone with Mrs. Merry." - -"Poor Eva!" said Hill tenderly, and repossessed himself of the hand -which she had withdrawn. "But Mrs. Merry is good to you?" - -"Very--very good," said Miss Strode with emphasis. "She was my -nurse and foster-mother, Allen. When I was born my father came -here for a time before taking the Hampstead cottage. Well, Allen, -that is my history. My father all these five years has paid Mrs. -Merry for my board and lodging, and has sent home pocket-money -for me. But all that time he has never written me a tender. -letter." - -"Not even when his wife died?" - -"No. He wrote a few words of sympathy, but not those which a -father should have written to a motherless girl. From what I know -of him, and from what Mrs. Merry says, he is a hard, cold, -self-concentrated man. I dread his coming more than I can tell -you, Allen." - -"If he ever does come," said the young man softly. - -Eva started and looked down. "What do you mean by that?" she -asked anxiously. - -Allen met her gaze frankly and laughed. "Oh, you need not disturb -yourself, my dear," he said with a shrug, "only you know my father -and yours were always chums. Why, I don't know, as my father -is certainly not the kind of man to suit such a one as you -describe Mr. Strode to be. But they were chums at school and -college, and my father knows a lot about yours. When I mentioned -that your father was expected to-night, my father--it was at -breakfast--said that Mr. Strode might not arrive after all. I did -not ask him what he meant." - -"Could Mr. Hill have heard from my father?" - -"I can't say, and even if he did, I don't know why my father -should suggest that Mr. Strode would not come home. But, Eva, you -are pale." - -"I feel pale," she said in a low voice. "Allen, sit beside me. I want -to talk seriously--to tell you a dream." - -The young man, nothing loath, promptly seated himself by her side -and slipped a strong, tender arm round her slender waist. Eva's -heart beat stronger when she found herself in such an assured haven. -It seemed as though Allen, noble and firm and loving, would be able -to shelter her from the coming storm. "And the storm will come," -she said aloud. - -"What is that?" asked Hill, not catching her meaning. - -"It is my dream," she answered; and then, with her head on his -shoulder, she told about her vision of the night. Allen was inclined -to make light of it. - -"You superstitious little darling," he said fondly, "the dream is -easily accounted for. You were thinking of your father, and, being -anxious about his arrival, dreamed what you did." - -Eva released herself, rather offended. "I was thinking of my father, I -admit," she said, "but I was not at all anxious. My father has been -all over the world, and in wild parts, so he can look after himself -very well. Besides, I never thought of the Red Deeps. And remember, -Allen, I saw the right hand, gloved." - -"That would seem to intimate that the dead man you saw in your dream -was Mr. Strode," said Allen, kissing her; "but it's all nonsense, -Eva." - -"You don't think anything will happen?" she demanded, anxious to be -reassured after Mrs. Merry's gloomy talk. - -"No, I don't. I have known of lots of dreams quite vivid which -never came true. I'm not a scientific chap," added Allen, laughing, -"or I would be able to prove that this dream is only a reflex of -your waking thoughts. Mr. Strode will arrive all right." - -"And then we must part," sighed Eva. - -This time it was Hill who started, and his face flushed. "I -don't quite understand." - -"You will soon. I told you the history of my life, Allen, so -that I might lead up to this. I wrote to my father at Cape -Town, telling him I loved you, and that Mr. Hill was pleased we -should be engaged." - -"My father was delighted," put in Allen quickly. - -"So I said. My father never replied to my letter save in sending -a cablegram stating he was coming home in the _Dunoon Castle_. -When he was at Southampton, he wrote, saying I was not to think -of marrying you, and that he would tell me of his plans for my -future when he returned to Wargrove. He decided to remain for a -week in London, and yesterday he wired that he was coming home -to-night. So you see, Allen," Eva rested her head on her lover's -shoulder, "he will part us." - -"No!" cried Hill, rising and looking very tall and strong and -determined, "he will never do that. What reason----" - -"My father is a man who will refuse to give his reason." - -"Not to me," rejoined the other hotly. "Mr. Strode will not dare -to dismiss me in so easy and off-hand a fashion. I love you, Eva, -and I marry you, whatever your father may say. Unless," he caught -her hands as she rose, and stared deep into her eyes, "unless you -leave me." - -"No! no! I never will do that, Allen. Come what may, I'll be -true." - -Then followed an interlude of kisses, and afterwards the two, -hand in hand, walked across the common on their way to Misery -Castle. It was not seven o'clock, but the twilight was growing -darker. "Do you know what your father's plans are?" asked Allen, -as they stepped out on to the deserted and dusty road. - -"No. I know nothing save what I tell you. And my dream----" - -"Dearest, put the dream out of your head. If it is any comfort to -you, I'll go to the Red Deeps to-night. Do you think I'll find a -dead body there?" he asked, laughing. - -"Not if you go before nine o'clock. The dream was at nine last night." - -"But your father will be home at eight, Eva?" - -"I hope so," she murmured. - -"You are so foolishly superstitious," said Allen, pressing her arm -which was within his own; "you dear little goose, don't you see that -if your father comes to Misery Castle at eight, he can't possibly -be lying dead in the Red Deeps at nine. When did you last hear from -him, Eva?" - -"Yesterday morning. He wired that he would be down at eight this -evening." - -"Well then, he was alive then, and is stopping in town on -business as you said. He will come to Westhaven by the train -arriving at six-thirty and will drive over." - -"The road passes the Red Deeps," insisted Eva. - -"How obstinate you are, Eva," said Allen, contracting his forehead; -"I tell you what I'll do to set your mind at rest; you know he is -alive now?" - -"Yes, I suppose so. I got that wire yesterday morning." - -"Well then, I'll set off to the Red Deeps at once, and will get -there just at eight. I may meet Mr. Strode coming along in the -fly, and if so I'll follow it back to Misery Castle, so as to see -him safely home. If I don't, I'll go to the Red Deeps, and if any -attack is made on him, I'll be there to give him a hand." - -"Thank you, Allen. I should be more at ease if you did that." - -"Then it shall be done," said Allen, kissing her, "but I feel -that I am encouraging you in superstitious fancies." - -"My dream was so vivid." - -"Pooh. Indigestion." - -"Then Mr. Hill hinted that my father might not return." - -"Well then, I'll ask him what he meant, and explain when we meet -again." - -"If we ever do meet," sighed Eva, stopping at the gate. - -"You will be true to me, Eva?" - -"Always--always--always. There--there," she kissed him under the -friendly shelter of the sycamore and ran indoors. - -Allen turned on his heel in high spirits, and set out for the -Red Deeps. At first he laughed at Eva's dream and Eva's -superstition. But as he walked on in the gathering darkness, he -felt as though the future also was growing more gloomy. He -recalled his own feelings of the girl's dress dappled with -blood, and of her flying form. Again he felt the "grue," and -cursed himself for an old woman. "I'll find nothing--nothing," -he said, trying to laugh. - -But the shadow of the dream, which was also the shadow of the -future, fell upon him darker than ever. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE NE'ER-DO-WEEL - - -Anxious to make the best impression on her father, Eva Strode ran up -to her room to put on an evening gown. Mr. Strode supplied her -liberally with money, for whatever his faults may have been, he -certainly was not mean; therefore she possessed a fairly extensive -wardrobe. She did not see Mrs. Merry on entering the cottage, as that -good lady was occupied in looking after the dinner in the little -back-kitchen. The table was laid, however, and after making herself -smart, Eva descended to add a few finishing touches in the shape of -flowers. - -Cheered by the view Allen took of her dream, and still more by the -fact that he had gone to the Red Deeps, Eva arranged many roses, red -and white, in a great silver bowl which had belonged to her mother. As -a matter of fact, Eva had been born in Misery Castle, and being sickly -as a baby, had been christened hurriedly in the cottage out of the -bowl, an heirloom of the Delham family. Mrs. Merry had taken -possession of it, knowing, that if Lady Jane took it away, her husband -would speedily turn it into money. Therefore, Mrs. Merry being a -faithful guardian, the bowl was still in the cottage, and on this -night Eva used it as a centrepiece to the prettily decorated table. -And it did look pretty. The cloth was whiter than snow, the silver -sparkled and the crystal glittered, while the roses blooming in the -massive bowl added a touch of needed colour. - -There were evidences of Eva's taste in the small dining-room. Mrs. -Merry had furnished it, certainly, but Eva had spent much of her -pocket-money in decorating the room. Everything was charming and -dainty and intensely feminine. Any one could see at a glance that it -was a true woman's room. And Eva in her black gauze dress, -bare-necked and bare-armed, flitted gracefully about the tiny -apartment. Her last act was to light the red-shaded lamp which hung -low over the table. The window she left open and the blind up, as the -night was hot, and the breeze which cooled the room made the place -more bearable. - -"It's quite pretty," said Eva, standing back against the door to get -the effect of the glittering table and the red light and the flowers. -"If father is dissatisfied he must be hard to please," she sighed, -"and from what Nanny says, I fear he is. A quarter to eight, he'll be -here soon. I'd better see when the dinner will be ready." - -But before doing so, she went to the front door and listened for the -sound of wheels. She certainly heard them, but the vehicle was -driving towards, and not from, the common. Apparently Mr. Strode was -not yet at hand, so she went to the kitchen. To her surprise she -heard voices. One was that of Mrs. Merry, querulous as usual, and the -other a rich, soft, melodious voice which Eva knew only too well. It -was that of her foster-brother Cain. - -This name was another of Mrs. Merry's eccentricities. Her husband, -showing the brute within him a year after marriage, had disillusioned -his poor wife very speedily. He was drunk when the boy was born, and -still drunk when the boy was christened; Mrs. Merry therefore -insisted that the boy would probably take after his father, and -requested that the name of Cain should be given to him. The -curate objected, but Mrs. Merry being firm and the curate weak, the -boy was actually called after Adam's eldest son. Had the rector -been at home such a scandal--as he regarded it--would not have -occurred, but Mr. Quain was absent on a holiday, and returned to -find an addition to his flock in the baby person of Cain Merry. The -lad grew up handsome enough, but sufficiently wild and wicked to -justify his mother's choice of a name. Yet he had his good moments, -and might have improved had not his mother nagged him into -wrong-doing. - -"Well, Cain," said Eva, entering the kitchen, "so you're back?" - -"Like a bad penny," cried Mrs. Merry, viciously stabbing some potatoes -with a fork; "six months he's been away, and----" - -"And I'd remained longer if I'd thought of getting this welcome, -mother," growled Cain sulkily. "But I might have known." - -He was a remarkably handsome lad of eighteen, almost as dark as Allen -Hill. As Mr. Merry had gipsy blood in his veins, it was probable -that Cain inherited the nature and looks of some splendid -Romany ancestor. With his smooth dark skin, under which the -rich red blood mantled, his eyes large and black as night, and -clearly-cut features, Cain looked as handsome as a picture. Not -even the rough dress he wore, which was that of a labourer, could -disguise his fine figure and youthful grace. He looked like a young -panther, sleek, beautiful, and dangerous. Cap on head, he leaned -against the jamb of the outer door--his mother would not allow him to -come further--and seemed a young Apollo, so slim and graceful did he -appear. But Mrs. Merry, gesticulating with the fork, had no eye for -his good looks. He reminded her too much of the absent Merry, who was -just such a splendid outlaw, when he won her to a bitterly regretted -marriage. Cain, meeting with so unpleasant a reception, was sulky and -inclined to be defiant, until Eva entered. Then he removed his cap, -and became wonderfully meek. He was fond of his foster-sister, who -could do much with him. - -"When did you come back, Cain?" she asked. - -"Ten minutes ago, and mother's been ragging me ever since," he -replied; "flesh and blood can't stand it, Miss Eva, I'll go." - -"No you won't," struck in Mrs. Merry, "you'll stop and give the mother -who bore you--worse luck--the pleasure of your company." - -Cain grinned in a sleepy manner. "Not much pleasure for me." - -"Nor for me, you great hulking creature," said Mrs. Merry, -threatening him with a fork. "I thought you'd grow up to be a -comfort to me, but look at you----" - -"If you thought I'd be a comfort, why did you call me Cain, mother?" - -"Because I knew what you'd turn out," contradicted Mrs. Merry, "just -like your father, oh, dear me, just like him. Have you seen anything -of your father, Cain?" - -"No," said Cain stolidly, "and I don't want to." - -"That's right, deny the author of your being. Your father, who -was always a bad one, left me fifteen years ago, just after you -were born. The cottage was not then my own, or he'd never have -left me. But there, thank heaven," cried Mrs. Merry, throwing up -her eyes to the smoky ceiling, "father didn't die and leave me -well off, till Giles went! Since that I've heard nothing of him. -He was reported dead----" - -"You said you heard nothing of him, mother," put in Cain, smiling. - -"Don't show your teeth in that way at your mother," snapped Mrs. -Merry, "what I say, I say, and no mistake. Your father was -reported dead, and as he's left me for seven years and more, I -could marry again, if I were such a fool. But I haven't, hoping -you'd be a comfort to the mother who brought you into the world. -But you were always a bad boy, Cain. You played truant from -school, you ran away to become a navvy at thirteen, and again and -again you came back in rags." - -"I'm not in rags now," said Cain, restive under this tongue. - -"Then you must have stolen the clothes," retorted his mother; "I'll be -bound you didn't come by them honestly: not as they're much." - -While this pleasant conversation was going on Eva stood mute. She -knew of old how impossible it was to stop Mrs. Merry's tongue, and -thought it best to let her talk herself out. But the last speech -made Cain laugh, and he was cool enough to wink at Eva. She knew -Cain so intimately, and really liked him so much in spite of his -wickedness, that she did not take offence, but strove to turn from -him the wrathful speech of his mother. - -"I am sure Cain has turned over a new leaf," she said, smiling. - -"He's turned over volumes of 'em," groaned Mrs. Merry, dashing -down a pot on the range, "but each page is worst nor the last. -Oh, I know what I'm saying," she went on triumphantly. "I was a -farmer's daughter and had three years' schooling, not to speak of -having mixed with the aristocracy in the person of your dear ma, -Miss Eva, and your own blessed self as is always a lady. But -Cain--oh, look at him." - -"He looks very well," said Eva, "and he looks hungry. Don't you -think you might give him a meal, Mrs. Merry?" - -"Kill the fatted calf, as you might say," suggested Cain impudently. - -"Calf!" screeched Mrs. Merry, "you're one yourself, Cain, to talk -like that with Miss Eva present. Ain't you got no respect?" - -"Miss Eva knows I mean no harm," said the goaded Cain. - -"Of course you don't," said Miss Strode; "come, Mrs. Merry, the boy's -home for good now." - -"For bad, you mean." - -"I'm not home at all," said Cain unexpectedly. "I'm working at -Westhaven, but I came over just to see my mother. If she -don't want me I can go back to those who do," and he turned -to go. - -"No. Stop," cried Mrs. Merry, whose bark was worse than her -bite. "I shan't let a growing lad like you tramp back all them ten -miles with a starving inside. Wait till I get this dinner off my mind, -and the pair of us will sit down like Christians to eat it." - -Eva stared and laughed. "You forget nurse: this dinner is for my -father. He should be here in a few minutes." - -Mrs. Merry turned grey. "I ain't forgot your dream, my dear. -He'll never eat it for want of breath, nor you for sorrow. Now, -Cain----" - -Miss Strode, who had a temper of her own, stamped a pretty slippered -foot imperiously. "Hold your tongue, Mrs. Merry," she cried, the -colour rising in her cheeks, "my father will arrive." - -The old woman glanced at the American clock which stood on the -mantelpiece. The small hand pointed to eight. "He ain't come yet." - -"Cain," said Eva, turning, still flushed, to the lad, "you came along -the Westhaven road?" - -Cain nodded. "Twenty minutes ago, Miss Eva," said he. - -"Did you see my father? No, you don't remember my father. Did you -see a fly coming along?" - -"No. But then I didn't come along the road all the time. I took a -short cut across country, Miss Eva. I'll just have a meal with -mother, and then go back to my business." - -"And what is your business, I'd like to know?" questioned Mrs. Merry -sharply; "a fine business it must be to take you from your mother." - -"I'm in a circus." - -"What, riding on horses in tights!" cried Mrs. Merry aghast. - -"No such luck. I'm only a groom. I got the billet when I was in -London, and glad enough I was, seeing how hard up I've been. It's -Stag's Circus and a good show. I hope you'll come over to Shanton -to-morrow, Miss Eva; there's a performance at night, and you'll see -some riding. Ah, Miss Lorry can ride a bit!" - -"Miss who?" asked Eva, who, with the kitchen door open, was straining -her ears to hear if Mr. Strode was coming. - -"Some low female, I'll be bound," snorted Mrs. Merry. "I've seen 'em -dancing in pink stockings and raddling their brazen cheeks with -paint. She's no better than she ought to be, not she, say what you -like." - -Cain grew angry. "You're quite wrong, mother," said he. "Miss Lorry is -very much respected. She rides her own horse, White Robin, and has -appeared before crowned heads. She's billed as the Queen of the Arena, -and is a thing of beauty." - -"Ha!" said Mrs. Merry sharply, "and you love her. Ho! You that told -me you loved that freckle-faced, snub-nosed Jane Wasp, the daughter -o' that upsetting Wasp policeman, with his duty-chatter, and----" - -"I don't love any one," said Cain, putting on his cap; "and if you -talk like that I'll go." - -"To marry a circus rider. Never enter my doors again if you do. I've -got this cottage and fifty pounds a year, inherited from my father, to -leave, remember." - -"Dear nurse," said Eva soothingly, "Cain has no idea of marrying." - -"Miss Lorry wouldn't have me if I had," said Cain sadly, though his -black eyes flashed fire; "why, Lord Saltars is after her." - -"What!" shrieked Mrs. Merry, turning sharply. "Miss Eva's cousin?" - -Cain looked astonished. "Is he your cousin?" he asked. - -"Yes, Cain--a distant cousin. He is the eldest son of Lord Ipsen. -My mother was the daughter of the last Earl. Is he in Westhaven?" - -"Yes, miss. He follows the circus everywhere, for love of her." -"We don't want to hear about those things," said Mrs. Merry sharply; -"leave your Lorries and rubbish alone, and go and wash in my room. -I'll get the dinner ready soon, and then we can sit down for a chat." - -"Another bullying," grumbled Cain, throwing down his cap and -preparing to take a seat. But he never did. At that moment there came -a long shrill whistle with several modulations like a bird's note. -Cain started, and cocked his handsome head on one side. The whistle -was repeated, upon which, without a word either to his mother or Miss -Strode, he dashed out of the kitchen. - -"There," said Mrs. Merry, waving the fork, "to treat his own lawful -mother in that way--to say nothing of you, Miss Eva." - -"He'll come back soon," replied Eva. - -"Oh, he will, if there's money and food about. But he'll get neither, -after behaving in that way. That my son should belong to a circus! -Ah, I always said Cain was born for the gallows, like his father." - -"But you don't know if his father----" - -"I know what I know," replied Mrs. Merry with dignity, "which is to -say, nothing. But Giles is what Giles was, and has everything -likely to bring him to a rope's end. I'll be the wife of one -hanged man," added the old woman with relish, "and the mother of -another. Then my cup of misery will be full enough. But, bless -me, Miss Eva, don't stay here, getting that pretty dress all -greasy. Go and wait for your pa in the doring-room, and I'll -bring in the dinner as soon as I hear him swearing--for swear he -will, if he arrive." - -"Of course he'll arrive," said Eva impatiently, looking at the -clock, which now indicated five minutes past eight; "he's a -little late." - -Mrs. Merry shook her head. "He'll not come. He's in the Red Deeps, -lying face downward in the mud." - -Eva grew angry at this persistent pessimism, but nothing she -could say or do, was able to change Mrs. Merry's opinion. Finding -that more talk with the prophetess only made her angry, Eva -returned to the front of the house, and, sitting in the -drawing-room, took up the last fashionable novel which she had -borrowed. But not all the talent of the author was able to -enchain her attention. She kept thinking of her father and of the -Red Deeps, and kept also looking at the clock. It was drawing to -nine when she went again to the front door, subsequently to the -gate. - -There was no sign of Cain coming back. He had appeared like a -ghost and had vanished as one. Why the whistle should have made -him turn pale and take so abrupt a departure, Eva was not able -to say. Moreover, the non-arrival of her father fully occupied -her attention. She could not believe that her dream, vivid as it -had been, would prove true and set down her nervous fears, which -were now beginning to get the upper hand, to Mrs. Merry's chatter. -That old woman appeared at her elbow while she leaned over the -gate, looking down the road. - -"He ain't come," croaked Mrs. Merry. "Bless you, deary, of course -he ain't. I know where he is, and you saw him in your dream." - -"Nonsense," said Eva, and ran out on to the road. A few people were -passing--mostly villagers, but Eva was well known and no one was -surprised at seeing her hatless. Even if any one had expressed -surprise, she was too anxious to trouble much about public opinion. - -"Aaron," she asked an old man who came trudging down from the common, -"did you see my father coming along in a fly?" - -"Why, miss," said Aaron scratching his shock head, "it's a matter -of five year since I saw your father, and I don't rightly know as -I'd tell him. But I ain't seen nothing but carts this evening, ay, -and you might say bicycles." - -"No fly?" - -"Not one, miss. Good-evening. I dare say your father will walk, -miss, by reason of the hot evening." - -This suggestion was the very reverse of what Mr. Strode would do, -he being a gentleman mindful of his own comfort. However, after the -rustic had departed, Eva ran up as far as the common. There was no -sign of any vehicle, so she returned to the cottage. Mrs. Merry met -her at the door. - -"The dinner spiling," said Mrs. Merry crossly; "do come and eat -some, Miss Eva, and I'll keep the dishes hot." - -"No, I'll wait till my father comes. Is Cain back?" - -"Not a sign of him. But, lor bless you, deary, I never expected -it, not me. He's gone to his circuses; to think that a son of -mine----" - -But the girl was in no humour to hear the lamentations of Mrs. -Merry over the decay of her family, and returned to the -drawing-room. There she sat down again and began to read--or try -to. - -Mrs. Merry came in at half-past nine, and brought a cup of tea, -with a slice of toast. Eva drank the tea, but declined the -toast, and the old woman retired angrily, to remove the -spoilt dinner. Then Eva played a game of patience, and at ten -threw down the cards in despair. The non-arrival of her -father, coupled with her dream, made her restless and uneasy. -"I wish Allen would return," she said aloud. But Allen never -appeared, although by now he had ample time to reach the Red -Deeps and to return therefrom. It was in Eva's mind to go to -Mr. Hill's house, which was at the further end of Wargrove -village, but a mindful thought of Mr. Hill's jokes, which were -usually irritating, made her hesitate. She therefore went back to -the kitchen, and spoke to Mrs. Merry, who was crooning over the -fire. - -"What are you doing?" she asked snappishly, for her nerves, poor girl, -were worn thin by this time. - -"I'm waiting for the body," said Mrs. Merry grimly. - -Eva bit her lip to keep down her anger, and returned to the -drawing-room, where she wandered hopelessly up and down. While -straining her ears she heard footsteps and ran to the door. It -proved to be a telegraph boy, dusty and breathless. Eva -snatched the wire from him, although she was surprised at its -late arrival. As she opened the envelope, the boy explained -needlessly-- - -"It come at four," he said, "and I forgot to bring it, so the Head -sent me on all these ten mile, miss, at this hour by way of -punishment. And I ain't had no supper," added the injured youth. - -But Eva did not heed him. She was reading the wire, which said that -Mr. Strode had postponed his departure from town till the morrow, -and would then be down by mid-day. "There's no reply," said Eva curtly, -and went to the kitchen for the fifth time that evening. The messenger -boy grumbled at not getting a shilling for his trouble, quite -forgetting that the late arrival of the wire was due to his own -carelessness. He banged the front gate angrily, and shortly rode off -on his red-painted bicycle. - -"My father's coming to-morrow," said Eva, showing the telegram. - -Mrs. Merry read it, and gave back the pink paper. "Let them believe it -as does believe," said she, "but he'll not come." - -"But the wire is signed by himself, you stupid woman," said Eva. - -"Well and good," said Mrs. Merry, "but dreams are dreams, whatever you -may say, deary. Your pa was coming before and put it off; now he put -it off again, and----" - -"Then you believe he sent the wire. There, there, I know you will -contradict me," said Miss Strode crossly, "I'm going to bed." - -"You'll be woke up soon," cried Mrs. Merry after her; "them knocks----" - -Eva heard no more. She went to her room, and, wearied out by -waiting and anxiety, retired speedily to bed. Mrs. Merry remained -seated before the kitchen fire, and even when twelve struck she -did not move. The striking of the clock woke Eva. She sat up -half asleep, but was speedily wide awake. She heard footsteps, -and listened breathlessly. A sharp knock came to the front door. -Then four soft knocks. With a cry she sprang from her bed, and -ran to the door. Mrs. Merry met her, and kept her back. - -"They've brought him home, miss," she said; "the dream's come true." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -MYSTERY - - -Mr. Hill's house at the far end of the village was an -eccentric building. Originally it had been a labourer's -cottage, and stood by itself, a stone-throw away from the crooked -highway which bisected Wargrove. On arriving in the neighbourhood -some twenty-five years before, Mr. Hill had bought the cottage and -five acres of land around. These he enclosed with a high wall of red -brick, and then set to work to turn the cottage into a mansion. As -he was his own architect, the result was a strange mingling of -styles. - -The original cottage remained much as it was, with a thatched roof and -whitewashed walls. But to the left, rose a round tower built quite -in the mediaeval style, to the right stretched a two-story mansion -with oriel windows, a terrace and Tudor battlements. At the back of -this, the building suddenly changed to a bungalow with a tropical -verandah, and the round tower stood at the end of a range of buildings -built in the Roman fashion with sham marble pillars, and mosaic -encrusted walls. Within, the house was equally eccentric. There was a -Spanish patio, turned, for the sake of the climate, into a winter -garden and roofed with glass. The dining-room was Jacobean, the -drawing-room was furnished in the Louis Quatorze style, Mr. Hill's -library was quite an old English room with casements and a low roof. -There were many bedrooms built in the severe graceful Greek fashion, -a large marble swimming-bath after the ancient Roman type, and Mr. -Hill possessed a Japanese room, all bamboo furniture and quaintly -pictured walls, for his more frivolous moods. Finally there was the -music-room with a great organ, and this room was made in the -similitude of a church. On these freaks and fancies Mr. Hill spent a -good deal of money, and the result was an _olla-podrida_ of -buildings, jumbled together without rhyme or reason. Such a -mansion--if it could be called so--might exist in a nightmare, but -only Mr. Hill could have translated it into fact. Within and -without, the place was an example of many moods. It illustrated -perfectly the mind of its architect and owner. - -Allen's father was a small, delicate, dainty little man with a large -head and a large voice, which boomed like a gong when he was angry. -The man's head was clever and he had a fine forehead, but there was -a streak of madness in him, which led him to indulge himself in -whatever mood came uppermost. He did not exercise the least -self-control, and expected all around him to give way to his whims, -which were many and not always agreeable. Some one called Mr. Hill a -brownie, and he was not unlike the pictures of that queer race of -elves. His body was shapely enough, but as his legs were thin and -slightly twisted, these, with his large head, gave him a strange -appearance. His face was clean-shaven, pink and white, with no -wrinkles. He had a beautifully formed mouth and a set of splendid -teeth. His fair hair, slightly--very slightly--streaked with grey, -he wore long, and had a trick of passing his hand through it when he -thought he had said anything clever. His hands were delicate--real -artistic hands--but his feet were large and ill-formed. He strove -always to hide these by wearing wide trousers. Both in winter and -summer he wore a brown velvet coat and white serge trousers, no -waistcoat, and a frilled shirt with a waistband of some gaudy Eastern -stuff sparkling with gold thread and rainbow hues. When he went out, -he wore a straw hat with a gigantic brim, and as he was considerably -under the ordinary height, he looked strange in this headgear. But -however queer his garb may have been in the daytime, at night Mr. Hill -was always accurately attired in evening dress of the latest cut, and -appeared a quiet, if somewhat odd, English gentleman. - -This strange creature lived on his emotions. One day he would be all -gaiety and mirth; the next morning would see him silent and sad. At -times he played the organ, the piano, the violin; again he would take -to painting; then he would write poems, and anon his mood would change -to a religious one. Not that he was truly religious. He was a -Theosophist, a Spiritualist, sometimes a Roman Catholic, and at times -a follower of Calvin. Lately he fancied that he would like to be a -Buddhist. His library, a large one, was composed of various books -bought in different moods, which illustrated--like his house--the -queer jumbled mind of the man. Yet with all his eccentricity Mr. Hill -was far from being mad. He was clever at a bargain, and took good care -of the wealth, which he had inherited from his father, who had been a -stockbroker. At times Mr. Hill could talk cleverly and in a -businesslike way; at others, he was all fantasy and vague dreams. -Altogether an irritating creature. People said they wondered how Mrs. -Hill could put up with such a changeling in the house. - -Mrs. Hill put up with it--though the general public did not know -this--simply for the sake of Allen, whom she adored. It was strange -that Allen, tall, stalwart, practical, and quiet, with a steadfast -mind and an open nature, should be the son of the freakish creature -he called father. But the young man was in every way his mother's -son. Mrs. Hill was tall, lean, and quiet in manner. Like Mrs. Merry, -she usually wore black, and she moved silently about the house, never -speaking, unless she was spoken too. Originally she had been a bright -girl, but marriage with the brownie had sobered her. Several times -during her early married life she was on the point of leaving Hill, -thinking she had married a madman, but when Allen was born, Mrs. Hill -resolved to endure her lot for the sake of the boy. Hill had the -money, and would not allow the control of it to pass out of his -hands. Mrs. Hill had come to him a pauper, the daughter of an -aristocratic scamp who had gambled away a fortune. Therefore, so that -Allen might inherit his father's wealth, which was considerable, the -poor woman bore with her strange husband. Not that Hill was unkind. -He was simply selfish, emotional, exacting, and irritating. Mrs. Hill -never interfered with his whims, knowing from experience that -interference would be useless. She was a cypher in the house, and -left everything to her husband. Hill looked after the servants, -arranged the meals, ordered the routine, and danced through life like -an industrious butterfly. - -As to Allen, he had speedily found that such a life was unbearable, -and for the most part remained away. He had early gone to a public -school, and had left it for college; then he had studied in London -to be an engineer and took the first opportunity to procure work -beyond the seas. He wrote constantly to his mother, but hardly ever -corresponded with his father. When he came to England he stopped at -"The Arabian Nights"--so the jumbled house was oddly named by its -odd owner--but always, he had gone away in a month. On this -occasion the meeting with Eva kept him in Wargrove, and he wished -to be sure of her father's consent to the match before he went back -to South America. Meantime his partner carried on the business in -Cuzco. Mr. Hill was not ill pleased that Allen should stop, as he -was really fond of his son in his own elfish way. Also he approved -of the engagement to Eva, for whose beauty he had a great admiration. - -On the morning after Mr. Strode's expected arrival, the three -people who dwelt in "The Arabian Nights' were seated in the -Jacobean dining-room. Mr. Hill, in his invariable brown velvet coat -with a rose in his buttonhole and a shining morning face, was -devouring _pate-de-foie-gras_ sandwiches, and drinking claret. At -times he took a regular English egg-and-bacon coffee and marmalade -breakfast, but he varied his meals as much as he did his -amusements. One morning, bread and milk; the next he would imitate -Daniel and his friends to the extent of living on pulse and water; -then a Continental roll and coffee would appeal to him; and -finally, as on the present occasion, he would eat viands more -suited to a luncheon than to a breakfast. However, on this especial -morning he announced that he was in a musical mood, and intended -to compose during the day. - -"Therefore," said Mr. Hill, sipping his claret and trifling with -his sandwiches, "the stomach must not be laden with food. This," -he touched the sandwiches, "is nourishment to sustain life, during -the struggle with melody, and the wine is of a delicate thin -nature which maketh the heart glad without leading to the vice of -intoxication. Burgundy, I grant you, is too heavy. Champagne might -do much to raise the airy fancy, but I believe in claret, which -makes blood; and the brain during the agonies of composition needs -a placid flow of blood." - -Mrs. Hill smiled wearily at this speech and went on eating. She -and Allen were engaged in disposing of a regular English meal, -but neither seemed to enjoy the food. Mrs. Hill, silent and -unemotional, ate like one who needs food to live, and not as -though she cared for the victuals. Allen looked pale and -haggard. His face was white, and there were dark circles under -his eyes as though he had not slept. - -"Late hours," said his father, staring at him shrewdly; "did I -not hear you come in at two o'clock, Allen?" - -"Yes, sir;" Allen always addressed his parent in this stiff -fashion. "I was unavoidably late." - -Mrs. Hill cast an anxious look at his face, and her husband -finished his claret before making any reply. Then he spoke, folding -up his napkin as he did so. "When I gave you a latchkey," said Mr. -Hill in his deep, rich voice, "I did not expect it to be used -after midnight. Even the gayest of young men should be in bed -before that unholy hour." - -"I wasn't very gay," said Allen listlessly; "the fact is, father, I -sprained my ankle last night four miles away." - -"In what direction." - -"The Westhaven direction. I was going to the Red Deeps, and while -going I twisted my ankle. I lay on the moor--I was half way across -when I fell--for a long time waiting for help. As none came, I -managed to crawl home, and so reached here at two. I came on all -fours." - -"Humph," said Hill, "it's lucky Wasp didn't see you. With his ideas of -duty he would have run you in for being drunk." - -"I think I could have convinced Wasp to the contrary," said Allen -drily; "my mother bathed my ankle, and it is easier this morning." - -"But you should not have come down to breakfast," said Mrs. Hill. - - -"It would have put my father out, had I not come, mother." - -"Quite so," said Mr. Hill; "I am glad to hear that you try to -behave as a son. Besides, self-denial makes a man," added Mr. Hill, -who never denied himself anything. "Strange, Allen, I did not -notice that you limped--and I am an observant man." - -"I was seated here before you came down," his son reminded him. - -"True," said Mr. Hill, rising; "it is one of my late mornings. I was -dreaming of an opera. I intend, Allen, to compose an opera. -Saccharissa," thus he addressed Mrs. Hill, who was called plain -Sarah, "do you hear? I intend to immortalise myself." - -"I hear," said Saccharissa, quite unmoved. She had heard before, of -these schemes to immortalise Mr. Hill. - -"I shall call my opera 'Gwendoline,'" said Mr. Hill, passing his hand -through his hair; "it will be a Welsh opera. I don't think any one has -ever composed a Welsh opera, Allen." - -"I can't call one to mind, sir," said Allen, his eyes on his plate. - -"The opening chorus," began Mr. Hill, full of his theme, "will be----" - -"One moment, sir," interrupted Allen, who was not in the mood for this -trifling, "I want to ask you a question." - -"No! no! no! You will disturb the current of my thoughts. Would you -have the world lose a masterpiece, Allen?" - -"It is a very simple question, sir. Will you see Mr. Strode to-day?" - -Hill, who was looking out of the window and humming a theme for his -opening chorus, turned sharply. "Certainly not. I am occupied." - -"Mr. Strode is your oldest and best friend," urged Allen. - -"He has proved that by taking money from me," said Hill, with a -deep laugh. "Why should I see him?" - -"I want you to put in a good word for me and Eva. Of course," Allen -raised his eyes abruptly and looked directly at his father, "you -expected to see him this morning?" - -"No, I didn't," snapped the composer. "Strode and I were friends at -school and college, certainly, but we met rarely in after life. The -last time I saw him was when he brought his wife down here." - -"Poor Lady Jane," sighed Mrs. Hill, who was seated with folded hands. - -"You may well say that, Saccharissa. She was wedded to a clown----" - -"I thought Mr. Strode was a clever and cultured man," said Allen -drily. - -"He should have been," said Mr. Hill, waving his hand and then -sticking it into the breast of his shirt. "I did my best to form him. -But flowers will not grow in clay, and Strode was made of stodgy clay. -A poor creature, and very quarrelsome." - -"That doesn't sound like stodgy clay, sir." - -"He varied, Allen, he varied. At times the immortal fire he buried in -his unfruitful soil would leap out at my behest; but for the most -part Strode was an uncultured yokel. The lambent flame of my fancy, -my ethereal fancy, played on the mass harmlessly, or with small -result. I could not submit to be bound even by friendship to such a -clod, so I got rid of Strode. And how did I do it? I lent him two -thousand pounds, and not being able to repay it, shame kept him away. -Cheap at the price--cheap at the price. Allen, how does this theme -strike you for an opening chorus of Druids--modern Druids, of course? -The scene is at Anglesea----" - -"Wait, father. You hinted the other morning that Mr. Strode would -never come back to Wargrove." - -"Did I?" said Mr. Hill in an airy manner; "I forget." - -"What grounds had you to say that?" - -"Grounds--oh, my dear Allen, are you so commonplace as to demand -grounds. I forget my train of thought just then--the fancy has -vanished: but I am sure that my grounds were such as you would not -understand. Why do you ask?" - -"I may as well be frank," began Allen, when his father stopped him. - -"No. It is so obvious to be frank. And to-day I am in an enigmatic -mood--music is an enigma, and therefore I wish to be mysterious." - -"I may as well be frank," repeated Allen doggedly, and doggedness -was the only way to meet such a trifler as Mr. Hill. "I saw Eva last -night, and she related a dream she had." - -"Ah!" Mr. Hill spun round vivaciously--"now you talk sense. I love -the psychic. A dream! Can Eva dream?--such a matter-of-fact girl." - -"Indeed she's no such thing, sir," said the indignant lover. - -"Pardon me. You are not a reader of character as I am. Eva Strode at -present possesses youth, to cover a commonplace soul. When she gets -old and the soul works through the mask of the face, she will be a -common-looking woman like your mother." - -"Oh!" said Allen, at this double insult. But Mrs. Hill laid her -hand on his arm, and the touch quietened him. It was useless to -be angry with so irresponsible a creature as Mr. Hill. "I must -tell you the dream," said Allen with an effort, "and then you can -judge if Eva is what you say." - -"I wait for the dream," replied Mr. Hill, waving his arm airily; -"but it will not alter my opinion. She is commonplace, that is -why I agreed to your engagement. You are commonplace also--you -take after your mother." - -Mrs. Hill rose quite undisturbed. "I had better go," she said. - -"By all means, Saccharissa," said Hill graciously; "to-day in my -music mood I am a butterfly. You disturb me. Life with me must -be sunshine this day, but you are a creature of gloom." - -"Wait a moment, mother," said Allen, catching Mrs. Hill's hand as -she moved quietly to the door, "I want you to hear Eva's dream." - -"Which certainly will not be worth listening to," said the -butterfly. Allen passed over this fresh piece of insolence, -although he secretly wondered how his mother took such talk -calmly. He recounted the dream in detail. "So I went to the Red -Deeps at Eva's request," he finished, "to see if her dream was -true. I never thought it would be, of course; but I went to -pacify her. But when I left the road to take a short cut to the -Red Deeps, about four miles from Wargrove, I twisted my ankle, as -I said, and after waiting, crawled home, to arrive here at two -o'clock." - -"Why do you tell me this dream--which is interesting, I admit?" -asked Mr. Hill irritably, and with a rather dark face. - -"Because you said that Mr. Strode would never come home. Eva's -dream hinted at the same thing. Why did you----?" - -"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Mr. Hill, sitting down with a smile. -"I will endeavour to recall my mood when I spoke." He thought for -a few minutes, then touched his forehead. "The mood taps here," -said he playfully. "Allen, my son, you don't know Strode; I do. A -truculent ruffian, determined to have money at any cost." - -"I always heard he was a polished gentleman," objected Allen. - -"Oh, quite so. The public school life and university polish gave -him manners for society: I don't deny that. But when you -scratched the skin, the swashbuckler broke out. Do you know how -he came to lose his right hand, Allen? No. I could tell you that, -but the story is too long, and my brain is not in its literary -vein this day. If I could sing it, I would, but the theme is -prosaic. Well, to come to the point, Allen, Strode, though a -gentleman, is a swashbuckler. Out in Africa he has been trying to -make money, and has done so at the cost of making enemies." - -"Who told you so?" - -"Let me see--oh, his lawyer, who is also mine. In fact, I -introduced him to Mask, my solicitor. I went up a few months ago to -see Mask about some business, and asked after Strode; for though -the man is a baron of the middle ages and a ruffian, still he is my -friend. Mask told me that Strode was making money and enemies at -the same time. When you informed me, Allen, that Strode was coming -home in the _Dunoon Castle_, and that he had arrived at -Southampton, I thought some of his enemies might have followed him, -and might have him arrested for swindling. In that case, he -certainly would not arrive." - -"But how do you know that Mr. Strode would swindle?" - -"Because he was a man with no moral principles," retorted Mr. Hill; -"your mother here will tell you the same." - -"I did not like Mr. Strode," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "he was not -what I call a good man. Eva takes after Lady Jane, who was always -a delightful friend to me. I was glad to hear you were engaged to -the dear girl, Allen," she added, and patted his hand. - -"It is strange that your observation and Eva's dream should agree." - -"Pardon me," said Mr. Hill, rising briskly, "they do not agree. I -suggested just now that Strode might be followed by his Cape Town -enemies and arrested for swindling. Eva dreamed that he was dead." - -"Then you don't agree with her dream?" asked Allen, puzzled. - -"Interesting, I admit; but--oh no"--Hill shrugged his -shoulders--"Strode can look after himself. Whosoever is killed, he -will be safe enough. I never knew a man possessed of such infernal -ingenuity. Well, are you satisfied? If not, ask me more, and I'll -explain what I can. Ah, by the way, there's Wasp coming up the -garden." Hill threw open the window and hailed the policeman. "I -asked Wasp to come and see me, Allen, whenever he had an interesting -case to report. I intend to write a volume on the physiology of the -criminal classes. Probably Wasp, wishing to earn an honest penny, has -come to tell me of some paltry crime not worth expending five -shillings on--that's his price. Ah, Wasp, what is it?" - -The policeman, a stout little man, saluted. "Death, sir." - -"How interesting," said Mr. Hill, rubbing his hands; "this is indeed -news worth five shillings. Death?" - -"Murder." - -Allen rose and looked wide-eyed at the policeman. "Mr. Strode?" - -"Yes, sir. Mr. Strode. Murdered--found dead at the Red Deeps." - -"Face downward in the mud?" whispered Allen. "Oh, the dream--the -dream!" and he sank back in his chair quite overwhelmed. - -"You seem to know all about it, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, with sudden -suspicion. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A STRANGE LOSS - - -Wasp was a bulky little man with a great opinion of his own -importance. In early years he had been in the army, and there, had -imbibed stern ideas of duty. Shortly after joining the police force -he was sent to Wargrove, and, with an underling, looked after the -village and the surrounding district. Married while young, he now -possessed a family of ten, who dwelt with Mrs. Wasp in a -spick-and-span house on the verge of the common. Everything about -Wasp's house was spotless. The little policeman had drilled his -wife so thoroughly, that she performed her duties in quite a -military way, and thought Wasp the greatest of men mentally, -whatever he may have been physically. The ten children were also -drilled to perfection, and life in the small house was conducted on -garrison lines. The family woke early to the sound of the bugle, -and retired to bed when 'Lights out' was sounded. It was quite a -model household, especially as on Sunday, Wasp, a fervid churchman, -walked at the head of his olive-branches with Mrs. Wasp to St. -Peter's church. - -The pay was not very large, but Wasp managed to make money in -many ways. Lately he had been earning stray crowns from Mr. Hill -by detailing any case which he thought likely to interest his -patron. Hitherto these had been concerned with thieving and -drunkenness and poaching--things which Mr. Hill did not care -about. But on this occasion Wasp came to 'The Arabian Nights' -swelling with importance, knowing that he had a most exciting -story to tell. He was therefore not at all pleased when Allen, so -to speak, took the words out of his official mouth. His red face -grew redder than ever, and he drew up his stiff little figure to -its full height, which was not much. "You seem to know all about -it, Mr. Allen," said Wasp tartly. - -"It is certainly strange that Miss Strode should dream as she -did," said Hill, who had turned a trifle pale; "what do you think, -Saccharissa?" - -Mrs. Hill quoted from her husband's favourite poet: "'There are -more things in heaven and earth----'" - -"That's poetry, we want sense," said Hill interrupting testily; -"my music mood has been banished by this news. I now feel that I -am equal to being a Vidocq. Allen, henceforth I am a detective -until the murderer of my friend Strode is in the dock. Where is -the criminal," added Hill, turning to the policeman, "that I may -see him?" - -"No one knows who did it, sir," said Wasp, eyeing Allen suspiciously. - -"What are the circumstances?" - -"Mr. Allen, your son here, seems to know all about them," said Wasp -stiffly. - -Allen, who was resting his head on the white cloth of the table, -looked up slowly. His face seemed old and worn, and the dark -circles under his eyes were more marked than ever. "Didn't Miss -Strode tell you her dream, Wasp?" he asked. - -The policeman snorted. "I've got too much to do in connection -with this case to think of them rubbishy things, sir," said he; "Mrs. -Merry did say something, now you mention it. But how's a man woke up -to dooty at one in the morning to listen to dreams." - -"Were you woke at one o'clock, Wasp?" asked Mr. Hill, settling -himself luxuriously; "tell me the details, and then I will go with you -to see Miss Strode and the remains of one, whom I always regarded as -a friend, whatever his shortcomings might have been. Allen, I suppose -you will remain within and nurse your foot." - -"No," said Allen rising painfully. "I must see Eva." - -"Have you hurt your foot, sir?" asked Wasp, who was paying particular -attention to Allen. - -"Yes; I sprained it last night," said Allen shortly. - -"Where, may I ask, sir?" - -"On Chilvers Common." - -"Ho!" Wasp stroked a ferocious moustache he wore for the sake of -impressing evil-doers; "that's near the Red Deeps?" - -"About a mile from the Red Deeps, I believe," said Allen, trying to -ease the pain of his foot by resting it. - -"And what were you doing there, may I ask, sir?" This time it was -not Allen who replied, but his mother. The large, lean woman -suddenly flushed and her stolid face became alive with anger. She -turned on the little man--well named Wasp from his meddlesome -disposition and desire to sting when he could--and seemed like a -tigress protecting her cub. "Why do you ask?" she demanded; "do -you hint that my son has anything to do with this matter?" - -"No, I don't, ma'am," replied Wasp stolidly, "but Mr. Allen -talked of the corp being found face downward in the mud. We did -find it so--leastways them as found the dead, saw it that way. -How did Mr. All----" - -"The dream, my good Wasp," interposed Hill airily. "Miss Strode -dreamed a dream two nights ago, and thought she saw her father -dead in the Red Deeps, face downward. She also heard a laugh--but -that's a detail. My son told us of the dream before you came. It -is strange it should be verified so soon and so truly. I begin to -think that Miss Strode has imagination after all. Without -imagination," added the little man impressively, "no one can -dream. I speak on the authority of Coleridge, a poet," he smiled -pityingly on the three--"of whom you probably know nothing." - -"Poets ain't in the case," said Wasp, "and touching Mr. Allen----" - -The young engineer stood up for himself. "My story is short," he -said, "and you may not believe it, Wasp." - -"Why shouldn't I?" demanded the policeman very suspiciously. - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "You have not imagination enough," -he answered, copying his father; "it seems to me that you believe -I am concerned in this matter." - -"There ain't no need to incriminate yourself, sir." - -"Spare me the warning. I am not going to do so. If you want to -know the truth it is this: Miss Strode dreamed the other night -that her father was lying dead in the Red Deeps. After vainly -endeavouring to laugh her out of the belief that the dream was true, -I went last night to the Red Deeps to convince her that all was well. -I struck across the moor from the high-road, and catching my foot in -some bramble bushes I twisted my ankle. I could not move, and my -ankle grew very painful. For hours I waited, on the chance that some -one might come past, but Chilvers Common being lonely, as you know, I -could not get help. Therefore, shortly before midnight--though I can -hardly tell the exact time, my watch having been stopped when I -fell--I managed to crawl home. I arrived about two o'clock, and my -mother was waiting up for me. She bathed my ankle and I went to bed." - -"It couldn't have been very bad, sir, if you're down now," said Wasp -bluntly, and only half satisfied with Allen's explanation. - -"I forced myself to come down, as my father does not like any one to -be absent from meals," was the reply. - -"Right, Mr. Wasp--right," said Hill briskly, "you need not go on -suspecting my son. He has nothing to do with this matter, the more so -as he is engaged to Miss Strode." - -"And I certainly should end all my chances of marrying Miss Strode by -killing her father," said Allen sharply; "I think you take too much -upon yourself, Wasp." - -The policeman excused himself on the plea of zeal, but saw that he had -gone too far, and offered an apology. "But it was your knowing the -position of the body that made me doubtful," he said. - -"That is the dream," said Mrs. Hill quietly; "but you can now tell us -all that has taken place." - -Hill looked astonished at his wife and a trifle annoyed. She was not -usually given to putting herself forward--as he called it--but waited -to take her tune from him. He would have interposed and asked the -question himself, so as to recover the lead in his own house, but that -Wasp, anxious to atone for his late error, replied at once, and -addressed himself exclusively to Mrs. Hill. - -"Well, ma'am, it's this way," he said, drawing himself up stiffly and -saluting apologetically. "I was wakened about one o'clock by a message -that I was wanted at Misery Castle,--a queer name as you know, -ma'am----" - -"We all know about Mrs. Merry and her eccentricities," said Mrs. -Hill, who, having an eccentric person in the house, was lenient -towards the failings of others; "go on." - -"Well, ma'am, Jackson, who is under me, was at the other end of the -village before midnight, but coming past Misery Castle on his rounds -he saw Mrs. Merry waiting at the gate. She said that Mr. Strode had -been brought home dead by three men--labourers. They, under the -direction of Miss Eva, took the body in and laid it on a bed. Then -Miss Eva sent them away with money. That was just about twelve -o'clock. The men should have come to report to me, or have seen -Jackson, but they went back to their own homes beyond the common, -Westhaven way. I'm going to ask them what they mean by doing that and -not reporting to the police," said Wasp sourly. "Well then, ma'am, -Jackson saw the body and reported to me at one in the morning. I put -on my uniform and went to Misery Castle. I examined the remains and -called up Jackson. We made a report of the condition of the body, -and sent it by messenger to Westhaven. The inspector came this -morning and is now at Misery Castle. Being allowed to go away -for a spell, having been on duty all night over the body, I came -here to tell Mr. Hill, knowing he'd like to hear of the murder." - -"I'm glad you came," said Hill, rubbing his hands, "a fine -murder; though," his face fell, "I had rather it had been any -one but my old friend. I suppose you don't know how he came by -his death?" - -"He was shot, sir." - -"Shot?" echoed Allen, looking up, "and by whom?" - -"I can't say, nor can any one, Mr. Allen. From what Mrs. Merry -says, and she asked questions of those who brought the body home, -the corp was found lying face downward in the mud near the Red -Deeps spring. Why he should have gone there--the dead man, I mean, -sir--I can't say. I hear he was coming from London, and no doubt -he'd drive in a fly to Wargrove. But we'll have to make inquiries -at the office of the railway station, and get to facts. Some one -must hang for it." - -"Don't, Wasp; you're making my mother ill," said Allen quickly. - -And indeed Mrs. Hill looked very white. But she rallied herself -and smiled quietly in her old manner. "I knew Mr. Strode," she -said, "and I feel his sad end keenly, especially as he has left a -daughter behind him. Poor Eva," she added, turning to Allen, "she -is now an orphan." - -"All the more reason that I should make her my wife and cherish -her," said Allen quickly. "I'll go to the cottage," he looked at his -father; "may I take the pony chaise?--my foot----" - -"I was thinking of going myself," said Hill hesitating, "but as -you are engaged to the girl, it is right you should go. I'll drive -you." Allen looked dubious. Mr. Hill thought he could drive in the -same way that he fancied he could do all things: but he was not a -good whip, and Allen did not want another accident to happen. -However, he resolved to risk the journey, and, thanking his -father, went out of the room. While the chaise was getting ready, -Allen, looking out of the window, saw his father leave the grounds -in the company of Wasp. Apparently both were going to Misery -Castle. He turned to his mother who was in the room. "What about -my father driving?" he asked. "I see he has left the house." - -"Probably he has forgotten," said Mrs. Hill soothingly; "you know -how forgetful and whimsical he is." - -"Do I not?" said Allen with a sigh, "and don't you?" he added, -smiling at the dark face of his mother. "Well, I can drive -myself. Will you come also, mother, and comfort Eva?" - -"Not just now. I think that is your task. She is fond of me, but -at present you can do her more good. And I think, Allen," said -Mrs. Hill, "that you might bring her back. It is terrible that a -young girl should be left alone in that small cottage with so -dismal a woman as Mrs. Merry. Bring her back." - -"But my father?" - -"I'll make it right with him," said Mrs. Hill determinedly. - -Allen looked at her anxiously. His mother had a firm, -dark face, with quiet eyes steady and unwavering in their -gaze. It had often struck him as wonderful, how so strong a -woman--apparently--should allow his shallow father to rule the -house. On several occasions, as he knew, Mrs. Hill had asserted -herself firmly, and then Hill, after much outward anger, had given -way. There was a mystery about this, and on any other occasion Allen -would have asked his mother why she held so subordinate a position, -when, evidently, she had all the strength of mind to rule the house -and her husband and the whole neighbourhood if necessary. But at -present he was too much taken up with the strange fulfilment of Eva's -dream, and with the thought of her sorrow, to trouble about so petty -a thing. He therefore remained silent and only spoke when the chaise -came to the door in charge of a smart groom. - -"I'll tell you everything when I return," he said, and hastily kissing -his mother he moved slowly out of the room. Mrs. Hill stood smiling -and nodding at the window as he drove away, and then returned to her -needlework. She was always at needlework, and usually wrought -incessantly, like a modern Penelope, without displaying any emotion. -But to-day, as she worked in the solitude of her own room, her tears -fell occasionally. Yet, as she did not like Strode, the tears could -not have been for his untimely death. A strange, firm, self-reliant -woman was Mrs. Hill; and although she took no active part in the -management of the house, the servants secretly looked on her as the -real ruler. Mr. Hill, in spite of his bluster, they regarded as merely -the figurehead. - -On the way to Misery Castle, Allen chatted with Jacobs, a -smart-looking lad, who had been transformed from a yokel into a -groom by Mr. Hill. Jacobs had heard very little of the affair, but -admitted that he knew the crime had been committed. "My brother was -one of them as brought the corp home, sir," he said, nodding. - -"Why did your brother and the others not report to Wasp?" - -Jacobs grinned. "Mr. Wasp have himself to thank for that, sir," said -he, "they were all frightened as he'd say they did it, and don't -intend to come forward unless they have to." - -"All zeal on Mr. Wasp's part, Jacobs," said Allen, smiling faintly, "I -can quite understand the hesitation, however. How did your brother -find the body?" - -"Well, sir," Jacobs scratched his head, "him and Arnold and Wake was -coming across Chilvers Common last night after they'd been to see the -circus at Westhaven, and they got a thirst on them. There being no -beer handy they went to the spring at the Red Deeps to get water. -There they found Mr. Strode's body lying in the mud. His face was down -and his hands were stretched. They first saw the corpse by the white -glove, sir, on the right hand." - -"The wooden hand," said Allen absently. - -"What, sir? Is it a wooden hand?" asked Jacobs eagerly. - -"Yes. Didn't you know?--no----" Allen checked himself, "of course you -wouldn't know. You can't remember Mr. Strode when he was here last." - -"It's not that, sir," began Jacobs thoughtfully, "but here we are at -the gate. I'll tell you another time, Mr. Allen." - -"Tell me what?" asked Allen, as he alighted painfully. - -"No matter, sir. It ain't much," replied the lad, and gathering up the -reins he jumped into the trap. "When will I come back?" - -"In an hour, and then you can tell me whatever it is." - -"Nothing--nothing," said the groom, and drove off, looking thoughtful. - -It seemed to Allen that the lad had something to say to him relating -to the wooden hand, but, thinking he would learn about the matter -during the homeward drive, he dismissed the affair from his mind and -walked up the path. - -He found the front door closed, and knocked in vain. Finding that no -one came, he strolled round to the back, and discovered Mrs. Merry -talking to a ragged, shock-headed, one-eyed boy of about thirteen. -"Just you say that again," Mrs. Merry was remarking to this urchin. - -The boy spoke in a shrill voice and with a cockney accent. "Cain sez -to me, as he'll come over and see you to-morrer!" - -"And who are you to come like this?" asked Mrs. Merry. - -"I'm Butsey, and now you've as you've heard twice what Cain hes -t'saiy, you can swear, without me waiting," and after this insult the -urchin bolted without waiting for the box on the ear, with which Mrs. -Merry was prepared to favour him. Allen, quick in his judgments, saw -that this was a true specimen of a London gamin, and wondered how -such a brat had drifted to Wargrove. As a rule the London guttersnipe -sticks to town as religiously as does the London sparrow. - -"If I had a child like that," gasped Mrs. Merry as the boy darted -round the corner of the cottage, "I'd put him in a corner and keep -him on bread and water till the sin was drove out of him. Ah, Mr. -Allen, that's you. I'm glad you've come to the house of mourning, -and well may I call this place Misery Castle, containing a corp as -it do. But I said the dream would come true, and true it came. Five -knocks at the door, and the corp with three men bearing it. Your -pa's inside, looking at the body, and Miss Eva weeping in the -doring-room." - -Allen brushed past the garrulous woman, but halted on the doorstep, -to ask why she had not come to the front door. Mrs. Merry was ready -at once with her explanation. "That door don't open till the corp go -out," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh, I know as you may -call it superstition whatever you may say, Mr. Allen, but when a corp -enter at one door nothing should come between its entering and its -going out. If anything do, that thing goes with the corp to the -grave," said Mrs. Merry impressively; "police and doctor and your pa -and all, I haven't let in by the front, lest any one of them should -die. Not as I'd mind that Wasp man going to his long home, drat him -with his nasty ways, frightening Miss Eva." - -Waiting to hear no more, Hill went through the kitchen and entered -the tiny drawing-room. The blinds were down and on the sofa he saw -Eva seated, dressed in black. She sprang to her feet when she saw -him. "Oh, Allen, I am so glad you have come. Your father said you -could not, because of your foot." - -"I sprained it, Eva, last night when----" - -"Yes. Your father told me all. I wondered why you did not come back, -Allen, to relieve my anxiety. Of course you did not go to the Red -Deeps?" - -"No," said Allen sitting down, her hand within his own, "I never got -so far, dearest. So your dream came true?" - -"Yes. Truer than you think--truer than you can imagine," said Eva in -a tone of awe. "Oh, Allen, I never believed in such things; but that -such a strange experience should come to me,"--she covered her face -and wept, shaken to the core of her soul; Allen soothed her gently, -and she laid her head on his breast, glad to have such kind arms -around her. "Yes, my father is dead," she went on, "and do you know, -Allen, wicked girl that I am, I do not feel so filled with sorrow as -I ought to be? In fact"--she hesitated, then burst out, "Allen, I _am_ -wicked, but I feel relieved----" - -"Relieved, Eva?" - -"Yes! had my father come home alive everything would have gone wrong. -You and I would have been parted, and--and--oh, I can't say what -would have happened. Yet he is my father after all, though he treated -my mother so badly, and I knew so little about him. I wish--oh, I -wish that I could feel sorry, but I don't--I don't." - -"Hush, hush! dearest," said Allen softly, "you knew little of your -father, and it's natural under the circumstances you should not -feel the loss very keenly. He was almost a stranger to you, -and----" - -While Allen was thus consoling her, the door opened abruptly and -Hill entered rather excited. "Eva," he said quickly, "you never told -me that your father's wooden hand had been removed." - -"It has not been," said Eva; "it was on when we laid out his body." - -"It's gone now, then," said Hill quietly, and looking very pale; -"gone." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE WARNING - - -On hearing this announcement of the loss, Eva rose and went to the -chamber of death. There, under a sheet, lay the body of her father -looking far more calm in death, than he had ever looked in life. But -the sheet was disarranged on the right side, and lifting this -slightly, she saw that what Mr. Hill said was true. The wooden hand -had been removed, and now there remained but the stump of the arm. A -glance round the room showed her that the window was open, but she -remembered opening it herself. The blind was down, but some one -might have entered and thieved from the dead. It was an odd loss, -and Eva could not think why it should have taken place. - -When she returned to the tiny drawing-room, Allen and his father were -in deep conversation. They looked up when the girl entered. - -"It is quite true," said Eva, sitting down; "the hand is gone." - -"Who can have stolen it?" demanded Allen, wrinkling his brow. - -"And why should it be stolen?" asked Hill pointedly. - -Eva pressed her hands to her aching head. "I don't know," she -said wearily. "When Mrs. Merry and I laid out the body at dawn -this morning the hand was certainly there, for I noted the white -glove all discoloured with the mud of the Red Deeps. We pulled down -the blind and opened the window. Some one may have entered." - -"But why should some one steal?" said Hill uneasily; "you say the hand -was there at dawn?" - -"Yes." Eva rose and rang the bell. "We can ask Mrs. Merry." - -The old woman speedily entered, and expressed astonishment at the -queer loss. "The hand was there at nine," she said positively. "I -went to see if everything was well, and lifted the sheet. Ah, dear -me, Mr. Strode, as was, put a new white glove on that wooden hand -every morning, so that it might look nice and clean. Whatever would -he have said, to see the glove all red with clay? I intended," added -Mrs. Merry, "to have put on a new glove, and I sent Cain to buy it." - -"What?" asked Eva, looking up, "is Cain back?" - -"Yes, deary. He came early, as the circus is passing through this -place on to the next town, Shanton. Cain thought he'd pick up the -caravans on the road, so came to say good-bye." - -Eva remembered Cain's odd behaviour, and wondered if he had anything -to do with the theft. But the idea was ridiculous. The lad was bad -enough, but he certainly would not rob the dead. Moreover--on the face -of it--there was no reason he should steal so useless an object as a -wooden hand. What with the excitement of the death, and the -fulfilment of the dream, not to mention that she felt a natural grief -for the death of her father, the poor girl was quite worn out. -Mr. Hill saw this, and after questioning Mrs. Merry as to the theft -of the glove, he went away. - -"I shall see Wasp about this," he said, pausing at the door, "there -must be some meaning in the theft. Meanwhile I'll examine the -flower-bed outside the window." - -Mrs. Merry went with him, but neither could see any sign of foot-marks -on the soft mould. The thief--if indeed a thief had entered the house, -had jumped the flower-bed, and no marks were discoverable on the hard -gravel of the path. "There's that boy," said Mrs. Merry. - -"What boy?" asked Hill, starting. - -"A little rascal, as calls himself Butsey," said the old woman, -folding her hands as usual under her apron. "London street brat I take -him to be. He came to say Cain would be here to-morrow." - -"But Cain is here to-day," said Mr. Hill perplexed. - -"That's what makes me think Butsey might have stolen the wooden hand," -argued Mrs. Merry. "Why should he come here else? I didn't tell him, -as Cain had already arrived, me being one as knows how to hold my -tongue whatever you may say, Mr. Hills"--so Mrs. Merry named her -companion. "I would have asked questions, but the boy skipped. I -wonder why he stole it?" - -"You have no proof that he stole it at all," said Hill smartly; "but -I'll tell Wasp what you say. When does the inquest take place?" - -"To-morrow, as you might say," snapped Mrs. Merry crossly; "and -don't bring that worriting Wasp round here, Mr. Hills. Wasp he is -by name and Wasp by nature with his questions. If ever you----" - -But Mr. Hill was beyond hearing by this time. He always avoided a -chat with Mrs. Merry, as the shrillness of her voice--so -he explained--annoyed him. The old woman stared after his -retreating figure and she shook her head. "You're a bad one," -she soliloquised; "him as is dead was bad too. A pair of -ye--ah--but if there's trouble coming, as trouble will come, do -what you may--Miss Eva shan't suffer while I can stop any worriting." - -Meanwhile Eva and Allen were talking seriously. "My dream was -fulfilled in the strangest way, Allen," the girl said. "I dreamed, -as I told you, the night before last at nine o'clock----" - -"Well?" questioned the young man seeing she hesitated. - -Eva looked round fearfully. "The doctor says, that, judging by -the condition of the body, my father must have been shot at that -hour." - -"Last night you mean," said Allen hesitatingly. - -"No. This is Friday. He was shot on Wednesday at nine, and the -body must have lain all those long hours at the Red Deeps. Of -course," added Eva quickly, "no one goes to the Red Deeps. It was -the merest chance that those labourers went last night and found -the body. So you see, Allen, my father must have been killed at -the very time I dreamed of his death." - -"It is strange," said young Hill, much perturbed. "I wonder who -can have killed him?" - -Eva shook her head. "I cannot say, nor can any one. The inspector -from Westhaven has been here this morning making inquiries, but, -of course, I can tell him nothing--except about the telegram." - -"What telegram?" - -"Didn't I mention it to you?" said the girl, raising her eyes -which were fixed on the ground disconsolately; "no--of course I -didn't. It came after you left me--at nine o'clock--no it was at -half-past nine. The wire was from my father, saying he would be -down the next day. It had arrived at Westhaven at four, and should -have been delivered earlier but for the forgetfulness of the -messenger." - -"But, Eva, if the wire came from your father yesterday, he could not -have been shot on Wednesday night." - -"No, I can't understand it. I told Inspector Garrit about the wire, -and he took it away with him. He will say all that he learns about the -matter at the inquest to-morrow. And now my father's wooden hand has -been stolen--it is strange." - -"Very strange," assented Allen musingly. He was thinking of what -his father had said about Mr. Strode's probable enemies. "Eva, do -you know if your father brought any jewels from Africa--diamonds, I -mean?" - -"I can't say. No diamonds were found on his body. In fact his purse -was filled with money and his jewellery had not been taken." - -"Then robbery could not have been the motive for the crime." - -"No, Allen, the body was not robbed." She rose and paced the room. "I -can't understand my dream. I wonder if, when I slept, my soul went to -the Red Deeps and saw the crime committed." - -"You did not see the crime committed?" - -"No; I saw the body, however, lying in the position in which it was -afterwards found by Jacobs and the others. And then the laugh--that -cruel laugh as though the assassin was gloating over his cruel -work--the man who murdered my father was laughing in my dream." - -"How can you tell it was a man?" - -"The laugh sounded like that of a man." - -"In your dream? I don't think a jury will take that evidence." - -Eva stopped before the young man and looked at him determinedly. -"I don't see why that part of my dream should not come true, if -the other has already been proved true. It's all of a piece." - -To this remark young Hill had no answer ready. Certainly the dream had -come true in one part, so why not in another? But he was too anxious -about Eva's future to continue the discussion. "What about you, -darling?" he asked. - -"I don't know," she replied, and sat down beside him again. "I can -think of nothing until the inquest has taken place. When I learn -who has killed my father, I shall be more at ease." - -"That is only right and natural; but----" - -"Don't mistake me, Allen," she interrupted vehemently. "I saw so -little of my father, and, through my mother, knew so much bad about -him, that I don't mourn his death as a daughter ought to. But I feel -that I have a duty to perform. I must learn who killed him, and have -that person sent to the scaffold." - -Allen coloured and looked down. "We can talk about that when we have -further facts before us. Inspector Garrit, you say, is making -inquiries?" - -"Yes; I have given him the telegram, and also the address of my -father's lawyer, which I found in a letter in his pocket." - -"Mr. Mask?" - -"Yes; Sebastian Mask--do you know him?" - -"I know of him. He is my father's lawyer also, and so became Mr. -Strode's man of business. Yes, it is just as well Garrit should see -him. When your father arrived in London he probably went to see Mask, -to talk over business. We might learn something in that quarter." - -"Learn what?" asked Eva bluntly. - -Allen did not answer at once. "Eva," he said after a pause, "do you -remember I told you that my father said Mr. Strode might not arrive. -Well, I asked him why he said so, and he declared that from what he -knew of your father, Mr. Strode was a man likely to have many enemies. -It struck me that this crime may be the work of one of these enemies. -Now Mask, knowing all your father's business, may also know about -those who wished him ill." - -"It may be so," said Eva reflectively; "my father," from what Mrs. -Merry says, "was a most quarrelsome man, and would stop at nothing to -make money. He doubtless made enemies in Africa as your -father suggests, but why should an enemy follow him to England to -kill him? It would have been easier to shoot him in Africa." - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "It's all theory on our parts," he said. -"We don't know yet if Mr. Strode had any virulent enemies, so we -cannot say if he was shot out of malice." - -"As the contents of his pockets were not touched, Allen, it looks as -though malice might have led to the crime." - -"True enough." Allen rose wearily to go, and Eva saw that he -limped. "Oh," she cried with true womanly feeling, springing -forward to help him, "I forgot about your sprain; is it very -painful?" - -"Oh no, not at all," said Allen, wincing; "help me to the door, -Eva, and I'll get into the chaise. It must be here by this time. -We must go round by the back." - -In spite of her sorrow, Eva smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Merry won't allow the -front door to be opened until my father's corpse passes through. I -never thought she was so superstitious." - -"The realisation of your dream is enough to make us all -superstitious," said Allen as they passed through the kitchen. "Oh, -by the way, Eva, my mother wants to know if you will stop with her -till the funeral is over?" - -"No, Allen, thanking your mother all the same. My place is here. Mrs. -Palmer asked me also." - -Mrs. Palmer was a gay, bright young widow who lived at the other -end of the village, and whom Mrs. Merry detested, for some unknown -reason. The sound of the name brought her into the conversation, as -she was just outside, when the couple arrived at the kitchen door. - -"Mrs. Palmer indeed," cried Mrs. Merry, wiping her red eyes; "the -idea of her asking Miss Eva to stop with her. Why, her father was -a chemist, and her late husband made his money out of milk and -eggs!" - -"She is very kind to ask me, Nanny, all the same." - -"She's no lady," said Mrs. Merry, pursing up her lips, "and ain't -the kind for you to mix with, Miss Eva." - -"My mother wishes Miss Strode to come to us," said Allen. - -"Well, sir," said the old nurse, "I don't say as what it wouldn't be -good for my dear young lady: that is," added Mrs. Merry with -emphasis, "if she keeps with your ma." - -"My father won't trouble her if that's what you mean," said the young -man drily, for Mrs. Merry made no secret of her dislike for Mr. Hill. - -"People have their likings and no likings," said the old dame, "but if -your ma will take Miss Eva till we bury him," she jerked her head in -the direction of the death chamber, "it would be happier for her than -sticking in the house along with her pa and me. If Cain was stopping -I'd say different, but he's going after his circus, and two women and -a corpse as ain't lived well, isn't lively, whatever you may say, Mr. -Allen." - -"I intend to stop here," said Eva sharply, "so there's no need for -you to say anything more, Nanny. Ah, here's Cain. Help Mr. Hill, -Cain." - -The dark-eyed youth doffed his cap and came forward with alacrity to -aid Allen. "Jacobs is at the gate with the pony, miss," he said, "but -I hope our horses won't run over him." - -"What do you mean?" asked Allen, limping round the corner. - -"The circus is coming, on its way to Shanton. I told Mr. Stag--he -owns it, Miss Eva--that murder had been committed, so the circus band -won't play when the horses pass." - -"Oh," said Eva stopping short, for already she saw a crowd of people -on the road. "I'd better remain within." - -"Yes, do, Eva," said Allen. "Cain will help me to the chaise. I'll -come and see you again; and Eva," he detained her, "ask Inspector -Garrit to see me. I want to know what can be done towards discovering -the truth." - -While Allen whispered thus, a procession of golden cars and -cream-coloured horses was passing down the road amongst a sparse -gathering of village folk. These had come to look at the house in -which the body of the murdered man lay, although they knew Misery -Castle as well as they knew their own noses. But the cottage had -acquired a new and terrible significance in their eyes. Now another -sensation was provided in the passing of Stag's Circus on its way to -Shanton fifteen miles further on. What between the tragedy and the -circus the villagers quite lost their heads. At present, however, -they looked at the cages of animals, at the band in a high red -chariot, and at many performers prancing on trained steeds. With the -music of the band it would have been even more exciting, but Stag, -with extraordinary good taste, forbore to play martial melodies while -passing through the village. Cain had not told him about the cottage, -so the equestrians were unaware that Misery Castle contained the -remains of the man whose death had caused such excitement in -Westhaven. - -Just as Eva turned to go in, and thus avoid the gaze of the curious, -she heard a deep voice--a contralto voice--calling for Cain. On -turning her head, she saw a handsome dark woman mounted on a fine -white horse. "It's Miss Lorry," said Cain, leaving Allen's arm and -running to the gate, with his face shining. - -The young man, still weak in his ankle, lurched, so sudden had been -Cain's departure, and Eva, with a cry of anger, ran forward to stop -him from falling. "Cain, how could you!" cried Eva; "hold up, -Allen." - -"Go back and help the gentleman," said the dark woman, fixing her -bold eyes on the girl's white face with a look of pity. "Miss -Strode!" - -Eva turned indignantly--for Cain by this time was helping Allen, and -she was returning to the house--to see why the woman dare address -her. Miss Lorry was reining in her rearing, prancing horse, and -showing off her fine figure and splendid equestrian management. She -was dressed plainly in a dark blue riding-habit, and wore a tall silk -hat. With these, and white collar and cuffs and neat gloves, she -looked very well turned out. By this time the procession had passed -on towards the village, and the people, drawn by the superior -attraction of the circus, streamed after it. Only a few hung about, -and directed curious eyes towards the cottage and towards Eva, who -paused near the fence in response to Miss Lorry's cry. Allen, who was -now in the chaise, and had gathered up the reins, also waited to hear -what this audacious woman had to say to Eva. - -"Come here, please," said Miss Lorry, with a fine high colour in her -cheeks. "I'm not going to bite you. You are Miss Strode, aren't -you?--else that lad," she pointed to Cain, "must have lied. He said -you lived in his mother's cottage and----" - -"I am Miss Strode," said Eva sharply. "What is it? I don't know you." - -Miss Lorry laughed in an artificial manner. "Few people can say that," -she said; "Bell Lorry is known everywhere as the Queen of the Arena. -No, Miss Strode, you don't know me; but I know you and of you. Your -cousin Lord Saltars----" - -"Oh!" cried Eva, turning red, and walked up towards the house. - -"Come back," cried Miss Lorry, "I want to whisper--it's about the -death," she added in a lower tone. But Eva was out of hearing, and -round the corner walking very fast, with her haughty head in the air. - -Miss Lorry, who had not a good temper, ground her fine white teeth. -"I've a good mind to hold my tongue," she said. - -"What is it about the murder?" asked Allen quickly; "I am engaged to -marry Miss Strode." - -"Oh, are you? Then tell her to be careful of the wooden hand!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE INQUEST - - -There was great excitement when the inquest was held on the remains -of Mr. Strode. Although he belonged to the old family of the -neighbourhood, and should have lived in the manor as the lord of the -village, he had been absent from Wargrove for so long, that few -people were well acquainted with him. Some ancient villagers -remembered him as a gay, sky-larking young man, when with Mr. Hill -the two had played pranks during vacation. Then came the death of the -old squire and the sale of the manor by his son. At times Strode had -come to Wargrove with his wife, and at Misery Castle Eva had been -born. But he usually stopped only a short time, as the slow life of -the country wearied his restless spirit. But always, when he came to -his old haunts, he went to look at the home of his race. Every one -knew that it was his desire to be Strode of Wargrove again, in fact -as well as in name. - -Many people remembered him when he came to Wargrove for the last time, -to place his wife and daughter under the roof of Mrs. Merry. Strode -had always been stiff and cold in manner, but, being of the old stock, -this behaviour was esteemed right, as no lord of the soil should be -too familiar, the wiseacres thought. "A proud, haughty gentleman," -said some, "but then he's a right to be proud. Ain't the Strodes been -here since the Conquest? 'Tis a wonder he took up with that Mr. Hill, -whose father was but a stockbroker." - -So it will be guessed that Strode's return to his native place to meet -with a violent death at unknown hands, created much excitement. The -jury surveyed the body in Misery Castle, and then went to the one inn -of the village to hear the evidence. A few people were in the -coffee-room where the proceedings took place, but Inspector Garrit -gave orders that the crowd should be kept out. The street therefore -was filled with people talking of Strode and of his terrible end. One -old man, who had seen eighty summers, gave it as his opinion, that it -was no wonder Mr. Strode had died so. - -"And what do you mean by that?" asked Wasp, who, full of importance, -was making things unpleasant with over-zeal. - -The ancient pulled his cap to the majesty of the law. "Whoy," said -he, chewing a straw, "Muster Robert--by which I means Muster -Strode--was a powerful angery gent surely. He gied I a clip on th' -'ead when I was old enough to be his father, though to be sure -'twas in his colleging days. Ah, I mind them two well!" - -"What two?" asked Wasp, on the alert to pick up evidence. - -"Muster Strode as was, an' Muster Hill as is. They be very -hoity-toity in them days, not as 'twasn't right fur Muster Robert, he -being lard an' master of the village. But Muster Hill"--the ancient -spat out the straw to show his contempt--"Lard, he be nothin'!" - -"He's very rich, Granfer." - -"What's money to blood? Muster Strode shouldn't ha' taken him up, and -given he upsettin' notions. He an' Giles Merry, as run away from his -wife, and Muster Strode, ah--them did make things lively-like." - -"I don't see what this has to do with the death," said Wasp -snappishly. - -"Never you mind," said Granfer, valiant through over-much beer. "I -knows what I knows. Muster Robert--'twas a word an' a blow with him, -and when he clips me on the 'ead, I ses, 'Sir, 'tis a red end as -you'll come to,' and my words have come true. He've bin shot." - -"And who shot him?" asked the blacksmith. - -"One of 'em as he clipped on the 'ead same as he did me," said -Granfer. - -Wasp dismissed this piece of gossip with contempt, and entered the -coffee-room to watch proceedings. The little policeman was very -anxious to bring the murderer to justice, in the hopes that he would -be rewarded for his zeal by a post at Westhaven. Hitherto he had -found nothing likely to lead to any discovery, and Inspector Garrit -had not been communicative. So, standing stiffly at the lower end of -the room, Wasp listened with all his red ears to the evidence, to see -what he could gain therefrom likely to set him on the track. A chance -like this was not to be wasted, and Wasp's family was very large, -with individual appetites to correspond. - -Eva was present, with Allen on one side of her, and Mrs. Palmer on -the other. Behind sat Mrs. Merry, sniffing because Mrs. Palmer was -offering Eva her smelling-bottle. The widow was blonde and lively, -well dressed, and of a most cheerful disposition. Her father -certainly had been a chemist, but he had left her money. Her husband -undoubtedly had been an egg and butter merchant, but he also had left -her well off. Mrs. Palmer had been born and brought up in Shanton, -and her late husband's shop had been in Westhaven. Therefore she -lived at neither place now that she was free and rich, but fixed her -abode at Wargrove, midway between the two towns. She went out a good -deal, and spent her money freely. But she never could get amongst the -county families as was her ambition. Perhaps her liking for Eva -Strode was connected with the fact that the girl was of aristocratic -birth. With the Lord of the Manor--as he should have been--for a -father, and an Earl's daughter for a mother, Eva was as well-born as -any one in the county. But apart from her birth, Mrs. Palmer kindly -and genial, really liked the girl for her own sake. And Eva also was -fond of the merry, pretty widow, although Mrs. Merry quite -disapproved of the friendship. - -Inspector Garrit was present, and beside him sat a lean, yellow-faced -man, who looked like a lawyer and was one. He had presented himself at -the cottage that very morning as Mr. Mask, the solicitor of the -deceased, and had been brought down by Garrit to give evidence as to -the movements of Mr. Strode in town, since his arrival from Africa. -Eva had asked him about her future, but he declined to say anything -until the verdict of the jury was given. When this matter was settled, -and when Strode was laid in the family vault beside his neglected -wife, Mask said that he would call at Misery Castle and explain. - -The case was opened by Garrit, who detailed the facts and what -evidence he had gathered to support them. "The deceased gentleman," -said Garrit, who was stout and short of breath, "came to Southampton -from South Africa at the beginning of August, a little over a week -ago. He had been in South Africa for five years. After stopping two -days at Southampton at the Ship Inn, the deceased had come to London -and had taken up his quarters in the Guelph Hotel, Jermyn Street. He -went to the theatres, paid visits to his tailors for a new outfit, and -called also on his lawyer, Mr. Mask, who would give evidence. On -Wednesday last, the deceased wired from London that he would be down -at eight o'clock on Thursday evening. The wire was sent to Miss -Strode, and was taken from the hotel by the porter who sent it, from -the St. James's telegraph office." - -"Why are you so precise about this telegram?" asked the coroner. - -"I shall explain later, sir," panted Garrit, wiping his face, for it -was hot in the coffee room. "Well then, gentlemen of the jury, the -deceased changed his mind, as I learned from inquiries at the hotel. -He came down on Wednesday evening instead of Thursday, and arrived at -the Westhaven station at six-thirty." - -"That was the train he intended to come by on Thursday?" asked a -juryman. - -"Certainly. He changed the day but not the train." - -"Didn't he send another wire to Miss Strode notifying his change of -plan?" - -"No. He sent no wire saying he would be down on Wednesday. Perhaps -he desired to give Miss Strode a pleasant surprise. At all -events, Miss Strode did not expect him till Thursday night at -eight. She will give evidence to that effect. Well, gentlemen of -the jury, the deceased arrived at Westhaven by the six-thirty -train on Wednesday, consequent on his change of plan. He left the -greater part of his luggage at the Guelph Hotel, and came only -with a small bag, from which it would seem that he intended to -stop only for the night. As the bag was easily carried, Mr. -Strode decided to walk over----" - -"But if he arrived by the six-thirty he would not get to the -cottage at eight," said a juryman. - -"No. I can't say why he walked--it's ten miles. A quick walker -could do the distance in two hours, but Mr. Strode not being so -young as he was, was not a quick walker. At all events, he -walked. A porter who offered to take his bag, and was snubbed, -was the last person who saw him." - -"Didn't any one see him on the road to Wargrove?" - -"I can't say. As yet I have found no one who saw him. Besides, -Mr. Strode did not keep to the road all the time. He walked -along it for some distance and then struck across Chilvers -Common, to go to the Red Deeps. Whether he intended to go -there," added the Inspector, wiping his face again, "I can't -say. But he was found there dead on Thursday night by three men, -Arnold, Jacobs, and Wake. These found a card in the pocket -giving the name of the deceased, and one of them, Jacobs, then -recognised the body as that of Mr. Strode whom he had seen five -years previous. The men took the body to the cottage and then -went home." - -"Why didn't they inform the police?" asked the coroner. - -Garrit stole a glance at Wasp and suppressed a smile. "They will -tell you that themselves, sir," he said; "however, Mrs. Merry found -the policeman Jackson on his rounds, late at night, and he went to -tell Mr. Wasp, a most zealous officer. I came over next morning. The -doctor had examined the body, and will now give his evidence." - -After this witness retired, Dr. Grace appeared, and deposed that he -had been called in to examine the body of the deceased. The -unfortunate gentleman had been shot through the heart, and must have -been killed instantaneously. There was also a flesh wound on the upper -part of the right arm; here the doctor produced a bullet: "This I -extracted from the body, gentlemen, but the other bullet cannot be -found. It must have merely ripped the flesh of the arm, and then have -buried itself in the trees." - -"This bullet caused the death?" asked the coroner. - -"Certainly. It passed through the heart. I expect the assassin fired -twice, and missing his victim at the first shot fired again with a -surer aim. From the nature of the wound in the arm, gentlemen," added -Grace, "I am inclined to think that the deceased had his back to the -assassin. The first bullet--the lost one, mind--skimmed along the -flesh of the arm. The pain would make the deceased turn sharply to -face the assassin, whereupon the second shot was fired and passed -through the heart. I think, from the condition of the body, that the -murder was committed at nine o'clock on Wednesday night. Mr. Strode -may have gone to the Red Deeps to meet the assassin and thus -have----" - - -"This isn't evidence," interrupted the coroner abruptly; "you can sit -down, Dr. Grace." - -This the doctor did, rather annoyed, for he was fond of hearing -himself chatter. The three labourers, Arnold, Wake, and Jacobs, -followed, and stated that they went to the Red Deeps to get a drink -from the spring. It was about half-past ten when they found the body. -It was lying near the spring, face downwards. They took it up and -from a card learned it was that of Mr. Strode. Then they took it to -the cottage and went home. - -"Why didn't you inform the police?" a juryman asked Jacobs. - -The big man scratched his head and looked sheepish. "Well, you see, -sir, policeman Wasp's a sharp one, he is, and like as not he'd have -thought we'd killed the gent. We all three thought as we'd wait till -we could see some other gentleman like yourself." - -There was a smile at this, and Wasp grew redder than he was. "A trifle -too much zeal on the part of policeman Wasp," said the coroner drily, -"but you should have given notice. You carried the body home between -you, I suppose?" - -"Yes. There was Arnold, myself, and Wake--then there was the boy," -added the witness with hesitation. - -"Boy?" questioned the coroner sharply, "what boy?" - -Jacobs scratched his head again. "I dunno, sir. A boy joined us on the -edge of the common near Wargrove, and, boy-like, when he saw we'd a -corpse he follered. When we dropped the body at the door of Misery -Castle"--the name of Mrs. Merry's abode provoked a smile--"the boy -said as he'd knock. He knocked five times." - -"Why five times?" questioned a juryman, while Eva started. - -"I can't say, sir. But knock five times he did, and then ran away." - -"What kind of a boy was he?" - -"Just an ordinary boy, sir," grunted the witness, save that he seemed -sharp. "He'd a white face and a lot of red hair----" - -"Lor!" cried Mrs. Merry, interrupting the proceedings, "it's Butsey." - -"Do you know the boy?" asked the coroner. "Come and give your -evidence, Mrs. Merry." - -The old woman, much excited, kissed the book. "Know the boy?" she -said in her doleful voice. "Lord bless you, Mr. Shakerley, that being -your name, sir, I don't know the boy from a partridge. But on Friday -morning he came to me, and told me as Cain--my boy, gentlemen, and a -wicked boy at that--would come and see me Saturday. As Cain was in -the house, gentlemen, leastways as I'd sent him for a glove for the -wooden hand of the corp, the boy--Butsey, he said his name was--told -a lie, which don't astonish me, seeing what boys are. I think he was -a London boy, being sharp and ragged. But he just told the lie, and -before I could clout his head for falsehoods, he skipped away." - -"Have you seen him since?" - -"No, I ain't," said Mrs. Merry, "and when I do I'll clout him, I will." - -"Does your son know him?" - -"That he don't. For I asked Cain why he told the boy to speak such a -falsehood seeing there was no need. But Cain said he'd told no one to -say as he was coming, and that he intended to see me Friday and not -Saturday, as that lying boy spoke." - -Here Inspector Garrit rose, and begged that Miss Strode might be -called, as she could tell something, bearing on the boy. Eva looked -somewhat astonished, as she had not seen Butsey. However, she was -sworn and duly gave her evidence. - -"My father came home from South Africa over a week ago in the _Dunoon -Castle_. He wrote to me from Southampton saying he would be down. He -then went to London and stopped there a week. He did not write from -London, but sent two telegrams." - -"Two telegrams," said the coroner. "One on Wednesday----" - -"Yes," said the witness, "and one on Thursday night." - -"But that's impossible. He was dead then, according to the medical -evidence." - -"That's what I cannot understand," said Eva, glancing at the -Inspector. "I expected him on Thursday night at eight and had dinner -ready for him. After waiting till after nine I was about to go to bed -when a telegraph messenger arrived. He gave me the wire and said it -arrived at four, and should have been sent then. It was from my -father, saying he had postponed his departure till the next day, -Friday. I thought it was all right and went to bed. About twelve I -was awakened by the five knocks of my dream----" - -"What do you mean by your dream, Miss Strode?" - -Eva related her dream, which caused much excitement. "And the five -knocks came. Four soft and one hard," she went on. "I sprang out -of bed, and ran into the passage. Mrs. Merry met me with the news that -my father had been brought home dead. Then I attended to the body, -while Mrs. Merry told Jackson, who went to see Mr. Wasp." - -"What did you do with the wire?" asked the coroner, looking perplexed -at this strange contradictory evidence, as he well might. - -"I gave it to Inspector Garrit." - -"Here it is," said the inspector producing it; "when I was in town, I -went to the office whence this had been sent. It was the St. James's -Street office where the other wire had been sent from. I learnt from -a smart operator that the telegram had been brought in by a ragged, -red-haired boy----" - -"Butsey," cried Mrs. Merry, folding her shawl tightly round her lean -form. - -"Yes," said Garrit, nodding, "apparently it is the same boy who joined -the three men when they carried the body home, and knocked five -times." - -"And the same boy as told me a lie about Cain," cried Mrs. Merry; -"what do you make of it all, gentlemen?" - -Mrs. Merry was rebuked, but the jury and coroner looked puzzled. They -could make nothing of it. Inquiry showed that Butsey had vanished -from the neighbourhood. Wasp deposed to having seen the lad. "Ragged -and white-faced and red-haired he was," said Wasp, "with a wicked -eye----" - -"Wicked eyes," corrected the coroner. - -"Eye," snapped Wasp respectfully, "he'd only one eye, but 'twas bright -and wicked enough to be two. I asked him--on the Westhaven road--what -he was doing there, as we didn't like vagrants. He said he'd come from -London to Westhaven with a Sunday school treat. I gave him a talking -to, and he ran away in the direction of Westhaven. Oh, sir," added -Wasp, obviously annoyed, "if I'd only known about the knocking, and -the lying to Mrs. Merry, and the telegram, I'd have taken him in -charge." - -"Well, you couldn't help it, knowing no reason why the lad should be -detained," said the coroner; "but search for him, Wasp." - -"At Westhaven? I will, sir. And I'll see about the Sunday school too. -He'd be known to the teachers." - -Mrs. Merry snorted. "That's another lie. I don't believe the brat has -anything to do with Sunday schools, begging your pardon, Mr. -Shakerley. He's a liar, and I don't believe his name's Butsey at -all." - -"Well, well," said the coroner impatiently, "let us get on with the -inquest. What further evidence have you, inspector?" - -"I have to speak," said Mr. Mask rising and looking more yellow and -prim than ever as he took the oath. "I am Mr. Strode's legal adviser. -He came to see me two or three times while he was in town. He stated -that he was going down to Wargrove." - -"On what day did he say?" - -"On no particular day. He said he would be going down some time, but -he was in no hurry." - -"Didn't he tell you he was going down on Thursday?" - -"No. He never named the day." - -"Had he any idea of meeting with a violent death?" - -"If he had, he certainly would not have come," said Mask grimly; "my -late client had a very good idea of looking after his own skin. But he -certainly hinted that he was in danger." - -"Explain yourself." - -"He said that if he couldn't come himself to see me again he would -send his wooden hand." - -The coroner looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" - -"Mr. Strode," said Mask primly, "talked to me about some money he -wished to place in my keeping. I was to give it back to him -personally, or when he sent the wooden hand. I understood from what -he hinted that there was a chance he might get into trouble. But he -explained nothing. He always spoke little and to the point." - -"And have you got this money?" - -"No. Mr. Strode didn't leave it with me." - -"Then why did he remark about his wooden hand?" - -"I expect he intended to leave the money with me when he returned from -Wargrove. So it would seem that he did not expect anything to happen -to him on his visit to his native place. If he had expected a tragedy, -he would have left the money; and the wooden hand would have been the -token for me to give it." - -"To whom, sir?" - -"To the person who brought the wooden hand." - -"And has it been brought?" - -"No. But I understand from Inspector Garrit that the hand has been -stolen." - -"Dear me--dear me." Mr. Shakerley rubbed his bald head irritably. -"This case is most perplexing. Who stole the hand?" - -Mr. Hill came forward at this point and related how he had gone into -the death chamber to find the hand gone. Eva detailed how she had -seen the hand still attached to the arm at dawn, and Mrs. Merry -deposed that she saw the hand with the body at nine o'clock. These -witnesses were exhaustively examined, but nothing further could be -learned. Mr. Strode had been shot through the heart, and the wooden -hand had been stolen. But who had shot him, or who had stolen the -hand, could not be discovered. - -The coroner did his best to bring out further evidence: but neither -Wasp nor Garrit could supply any more witnesses. The further the case -was gone into, the more mysterious did it seem. The money of the -deceased was untouched, so robbery could not have been the motive for -the commission of the crime. Finally, after a vain endeavour to -penetrate the mystery, the jury brought in a verdict of "Wilful murder -against some person or persons unknown." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A NEW LIFE - - -Nothing new was discovered after the inquest, although all inquiries -were made. Butsey had vanished. He was traced to Westhaven after his -interview with Wasp, and from that place had taken the train to -London. But after landing at Liverpool Street Station, he -disappeared into the world of humanity, and not even the efforts of -the London police could bring him to light. No weapon had been found -near the Red Deeps spring, nor could any foot-marks be discerned -likely to lead to a detection of the assassin. Mr. Strode had been -shot by some unknown person, and it seemed as though the affair -would have to be relegated to the list of mysterious crimes. Perhaps -the absence of a reward had something to do with the inactivity -displayed by Garrit and Wasp. - -But how could a reward be offered when Eva had no money? After the -funeral, and when the dead man had been bestowed in the Strode vault -under St. Peter's Church, the lawyer called to see the girl. He told -her coldly, and without displaying any sympathy, that her father had -left no money in his hands, and that he could do nothing for her. Eva, -having been brought up in idleness, was alarmed at the prospect before -her. She did not know what to do. - -"I must earn my bread in some way," she said to Mrs. Merry a week -later, when consulting about ways and means. "I can't be a burden on -you, Nanny." - -"Deary," said the old woman, taking the girl's hand within her -withered claws, "you ain't no burden, whatever you may say. You stay -along with your old nurse, who loves you, an' who has fifty pound a -year, to say nothing of the castle and the land." - -"But, Nanny, I can't stay on here for ever." - -"And you won't, with that beauty," said Mrs. Merry sturdily, -"bless you, deary, Mr. Allen will marry you straight off if you'll -only say the word; I saw him in the village this very day, his -foot being nearly well. To be sure he was with his jelly-fish of a -pa; but I took it kind of him that he stopped and spoke to me. He -wants to marry you out of hand, Miss Eva." - -"I know," said the girl flushing; "I never doubted Allen's love. He has -asked me several times since the funeral to become his wife. But my -poor father----" - -"Poor father!" echoed Mrs. Merry in tones of contempt; "well, as he was -your pa after all, there ain't nothing to be said, whatever you may -think, Miss Eva. But he was a bad lot." - -"Mrs. Merry, he's dead," said Eva rebukingly. The old woman -rubbed her hands and tucked them under her apron. "I know that," -said she with bright eyes, "and put 'longside that suffering -saint your dear ma: but their souls won't be together whatever -you may say, deary. Well, I'll say no more. Bad he was, and a -bad end he come to. I don't weep for him," added Mrs. Merry -viciously; "no more nor I'd weep for Giles if he was laid out, -and a nasty corp he'd make." - -Eva shuddered. "Don't speak like that." - -"Well then, deary, I won't, me not being wishful to make your young -blood run cold. But as to what you'll do, I'll just tell you what -I've thought of, lying awake. There's the empty room across the -passage waiting for a lodger; then the cow's milk can be sold, and -there's garden stuff by the bushel for sale. I might let out the -meadow as a grazing ground, too," said Mrs. Merry, rubbing her nose -thoughtfully, "but that the cow's as greedy a cow as I ever set eyes -on, an' I've had to do with 'em all my born days, Miss Eva. All -this, rent free, my dear, and fifty pounds in cash. You'll be as -happy as a queen living here, singing like a bee. And then when the -year's mourning is over--not as he deserves it--you'll marry Mr. -Allen and all will be gay." - -"Dear Nanny," said the girl, throwing her arms round the old woman's -neck, "how good you are. But, indeed I can't." - -"Then you must marry Mr. Allen straight away." - -"I can't do that either. I must earn my bread." - -"What," screeched Mrs. Merry, "and you a born lady! Never; that -saint would turn in her grave--and I wonder she don't, seeing she's -laid 'longside him as tortured her when alive. There's your titles, -of course, Lord Ipsen and his son." - -"I wouldn't take a penny from them," said Eva colouring. "They -never took any notice of me when my father was alive, and----" - -"He didn't get on well with 'em," cried Mrs. Merry; "and who did he -get on with, I ask you, deary? There's Lady Ipsen--she would have -made much of you, but for him." - -"I don't like Lady Ipsen, Nanny. She called here, if you remember, -when my mother was alive. I'm not going to be patronised by her." - -"Ah, Miss Eva," said the old dame admiringly, "it's a fine, bright, -hardy spirit of your own as you've got. Lady Ipsen is as old as I -am, and makes herself up young with paint and them things. But she -has a heart. When she learned of your poverty----" - -Eva sprang to her feet. "No! no! no!" she cried vehemently, "never -mention her to me again. I would not go to my mother's family for -bread if I was starving. What I eat, I'll earn." - -"Tell Mr. Allen so," said Mrs. Merry, peering out of the window; -"here he comes. His foot 'ull get worse, if he walk so fast," she -added, with her usual pessimism. - -Allen did not wait to enter in by the door, but paused at the open -window before which Eva was standing. He looked ill and white and -worried, but his foot was better, though even now, he had to use a -stick, and walked slowly. "You should not have come out to-day," -said Eva, shaking her finger at him. - -"As Mrs. Mountain would not go to Mr. Mahomet," said Allen, trying to -smile, "Mr. Mahomet had to come to Mrs. Mountain. Wait till I come in, -Eva," and he disappeared. - -The girl busied herself in arranging an arm-chair with cushions, and -made her lover sit down when he was in the room. "There! you're more -comfortable." She sat down beside him. "I'll get you a cup of tea." - -"Don't bother," murmured Allen, closing his eyes. - -"It's no bother. In any case tea will have to be brought in. Mrs. -Palmer is coming to see me soon. She wants to talk to me." - -"What about?" - -"I can't say; but she asked me particularly to be at home to-day. We -can have our talk first, though. Do smoke, Allen." - -"No. I don't feel inclined to smoke." - -"Will you have some fruit?" - -"No, thank you," he said, so listlessly that Eva looked at him in -alarm. She noted how thin his face was, and how he had lost his -colour. - -"You do look ill, Allen." - -He smiled faintly. "The foot has pulled me down." - -"Are you sure it's only the foot?" she inquired, puzzled. - -"What else should it be?" asked Allen quietly; "you see I'm so used -to being in the open air, that a few days within doors, soon takes my -colour away. But my foot is nearly well. I'll soon be myself again. -But, Eva," he took her hand, "do you know why I come." - -"Yes," she said looking away, "to ask me again to be your wife." - -"You have guessed it the first time," replied Allen, trying to be -jocular; "this is the third time of asking. Come, Eva," he added -coaxingly, "have you considered what I said?" - -"You want me to marry you at once," she murmured. - -"Next week, if possible. Then I can take you with me to South -America, and we can start a new life, far away from these old -vexations. Come, Eva. Near the mine, where I and Parkins are -working, there's a sleepy old Spanish town where I can buy the most -delightful house. The climate is glorious, and we would be so happy. -You'll soon pick up the language." - -"But why do you want me to leave England, Allen?" - -Hill turned away his head as he answered. "I haven't enough money to -keep you here in a proper position," he said quietly. "My father -allows me nothing, and will allow me nothing. I have to earn my own -bread, Eva, and to do so, have to live for the time being in South -America. I used to think it exile, but with you by my side, dearest, -it will be paradise. I want to marry you: my mother is eager to -welcome you as her daughter, and----" - -"And your father," said Eva, seeing he halted. Allen made a -gesture of indifference. "My father doesn't care one way or the -other, darling. You should know my father by this time. He is -wrapped up in himself. Egotism is a disease with him." Eva twisted -her hands together and frowned. "Allen, I really can't marry you," -she said decisively; "think how my father was murdered!" - -"What has that to do with it?" demanded Allen almost fiercely. - -"Dear, how you frighten me. There's no need to scowl in that way. -You have a temper, Allen, I can see." - -"It shall never be shown to you," he said fondly. "Come, Eva." - -But she still shook her head. "Allen, I had small cause to love my -father, as you know. Still, he has been foully murdered: I have made -up my mind to find out who killed him before I marry." - -Allen rose in spite of his weak ankle and flung away her hand. "Oh, -Eva," he said roughly, "is that all you care for me? My happiness is -to be settled in this vague way----" - -"Vague way----?" - -"Certainly!" cried Hill excitedly; "you may never learn who killed -your father. There's not a scrap of evidence to show who shot him." - -"I may find Butsey," said Eva, looking obstinate. - -"You'll never find him; and even if you do, how do we know that he can -tell?" - -"I am certain that he can tell much," said Miss Strode determinedly. -"Think, Allen. He sent the telegram probably by order of my father's -enemy. He came suddenly on those men at midnight when they were -carrying the body. What was a child like that doing out so late, if -he wasn't put up to mischief by some other person? And he knocked as -happened in my dream, remember," she said, sinking her voice; "and -then he came here with a lying message on the very day my father's -wooden hand was stolen." - -"Do you think he stole it?" - -"Yes, I do; though why he should behave so I can't say. But I am quite -sure that Butsey is acting on behalf of some other person--probably -the man who killed my father." - -Allen shrugged his shoulders frowningly. "Perhaps Butsey killed Mr. -Strode himself," he said; "he has all the precocity of a criminal." - -"We might even learn that," replied Eva, annoyed by Allen's tone; "but -I am quite bent on searching for this boy and of learning who killed -my father and why he was killed." - -"How will you set about it?" asked Allen sullenly. - -"I don't know. I have no money and no influence, and I am only a -girl. But I'll learn the truth somehow." - -Hill walked up and down the little room with a slight limp, though -his foot was much better and gave him no pain. He was annoyed that -Eva should be so bent on avenging the murder of her father, for he -quite agreed with Mrs. Merry that the man was not worth it. But he -knew that Eva had a mulish vein in her nature, and from the look -on her face and from the hard tones of her voice, he was sure she -would not be easily turned from her design. For a few minutes he -thought in silence, Eva watching him intently. Then he turned -suddenly: "Eva, my dear," he said, holding out his hands, "since -you are so bent upon learning the truth leave it in my hands. I'll -be better able to see about the matter than you. And if I find out -who killed your father----" - -"I'll marry you at once!" she cried, and threw herself into his arms. - -"I hope so," said Allen in a choked voice. "I'll do my best, Eva; -no man can do more. But if I fail, you must marry me. Here, I'll -make a bargain with you. If I can't find the assassin within a -year, will you give over this idea and become my wife?" - -"Yes," said Eva frankly; "but I am certain that the man will be -found through that boy Butsey." - -"He has to be found first," said Allen with a sigh, "and that is -no easy task. Well, Eva, I'll settle my affairs and start on this -search." - -"Your affairs!" said Eva in a tone of surprise. - -"Ah," said the young man smiling, "you have seen me idle for so -long that you think I have nothing to do. But I have to get back -soon to Bolivia. My friend Parkins and I are working an old silver -mine for a Spanish Don. But we discovered another and richer mine -shown to me by an Indian. I believe it was worked hundreds of -years ago by the Inca kings. Parkins and I can buy it, but we have -not the money. I came home to see if my father would help me. But -I might have spared myself the trouble: he refused at once. Since -then I have been trying all these months to find a capitalist, but -as yet I have not been successful. But I'll get him soon, and then -Parkins and I will buy the mine, and make our fortunes. I wish -you'd give up this wild goose chase after your father's murderer, -and let us go to Bolivia." - -"No," said Eva, "I must learn the truth. I would never be happy if -I died without knowing who killed my father, and why he was -killed." - -"Well, then, I'll do my best. I have written to Parkins asking -him to give me another six months to find a capitalist, and I -shall have to take rooms in London. While there I'll look at the -same time for Butsey, and perhaps may learn the truth. But if I -don't----" - -"I'll marry you, if you don't find the assassin in a year," said -Eva embracing him. "Ah, Allen, don't look so angry. I don't want -you to search all your life: but one year--twelve months----" - -"Then it's a bargain," said Allen kissing her: "and, by the way, I -shall have the assistance of Parkins's brother." - -"Who is he?" asked Eva; "I don't want every one to----" - -"Oh, that's all right. Parkins tells me his brother is shrewd and -clever. I may as well have his assistance. Besides, I got a letter -from Horace Parkins--that's the brother, for my man is called -Mark--and he is in town now. He has just come from South Africa, so -he may know of your father's doings there." - -"Oh," Eva looked excited, "and he may be able to say who killed him!" - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "I don't say that. Your father may -have had enemies in England as well as in Africa. But we'll see. I -have never met Horace Parkins, but if he's as good a fellow as his -brother Mark, my chum and partner, he'll do all he can to help me." - -"I am sure you will succeed, Allen," cried Eva joyfully; "look how -things are fitting in. Mr. Parkins, coming from Africa, is just the -person to know about my father." - -Young Hill said nothing. He fancied that Horace Parkins might know -more about Mr. Strode than Eva would like to hear, for if the man -was so great a scamp in England, he certainly would not settle -down to a respectable life in the wilds. However he said nothing -on this point, but merely reiterated his promise to find out who -murdered Robert Strode, and then drew Eva down beside him. "What -about yourself?" he asked anxiously. - -"I don't know. Mrs. Merry wants me to stop here." - -"I should think that is the best thing to do." - -"But I can't," replied Eva, shaking her head; "Mrs. Merry is poor. I -can't live on her." - -"I admire your spirit, Eva, but I don't think Mrs. Merry would think -you were doing her anything but honour." - -"All the more reason I should not take advantage of her kindness." - -Allen laughed. "You argue well," he said indulgently. "But see here, -dearest. My mother is fond of you, and knows your position. She wants -you to come to her." - -"Oh, Allen, if she were alone I would love to. I am very -devoted to your mother. But your father----" - -"He won't mind." - -"But I do," said Eva, her colour rising. "I don't like to say so to -you, Allen, but I must." - -"Say what?" - -"That I don't like your father very much." - -"That means you don't like him at all," said the son coolly. "Dear -me, Eva, what unpleasant parents you and I have. Your father and -mine--neither very popular. But you won't come?" - -"I can't, Allen." - -"You know my father is your dead father's dearest friend." - -"All the same I can't come." - -"What will you do, then?" asked Allen vexed. - -"Go out as a governess." - -"No; you must not do that. Why not----" - -Before Allen could propose anything the door opened and Mrs. Merry, -with a sour face, ushered in Mrs. Palmer. The widow looked prettier -and brighter than ever, though rather commonplace. With a -disdainful sniff Mrs. Merry banged the door. - -"Eva, dear," said Mrs. Palmer. "Mr. Hill, how are you? I've come on -business." - -"Business?" said Eva surprised. - -"Yes. Pardon my being so abrupt, but if I don't ask you now I'll lose -courage. I want you to come and be my companion." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL - - -So here was a way opened by Providence in an unexpected direction. -Mrs. Palmer, with a high colour and rather a nervous look, stood -waiting for Eva's reply. The girl looked at her lover, but Allen, -very wisely, said nothing. He thought that this was a matter which -Eva should settle for herself. But he was secretly amused at the -abrupt way in which the little widow had spoken. It seemed as -though she was asking a favour instead of conferring one. Miss -Strode was the first of the three to recover, and then she did not -reply immediately. She first wanted to know why Mrs. Palmer had -made so generous an offer. - -"Do sit down," she said, pushing forward a chair, "and then we can -talk the matter over. I need not tell you that I am very thankful -for your kind offer." - -"Oh, my dear;" Mrs. Palmer sank into the chair and fanned herself -with a lace handkerchief, "if you accept it, it is I who shall be -thankful. I do hate living by myself, and I've never been able to -find a companion I liked. But you, dear Eva, have always been a -pet of mine. I have known you for four years, and I always did -think you the very dearest of girls. If you will only come we -shall be so happy." - -"But what makes you think that I want to be any one's -companion?" - -Mrs. Palmer coloured and laughed nervously. She was very pretty, -but with her pink and white complexion and flaxen hair and pale -blue eyes she looked like a wax doll. Any one could see at a glance -that she was perfectly honest. So shallow a nature was incapable of -plotting, or of acting in a double fashion. Yet Eva wondered all -the same that the widow should have made her so abrupt a proposal. -So far as she knew, no one was aware that she was in want of money, -and it seemed strange if providential that Mrs. Palmer should come -in the very nick of time to help her in this way. - -"Well, my dear," she said at length and looking at her -primrose-hued gloves, "it was Lord Saltars who led me to make the -offer." - -"My cousin." Eva frowned and Allen looked up. "Do you know him?" - -"Oh yes. Didn't I mention that I did?" - -"No. I was not aware that you had ever met." - -"We did in town about a year ago. I met him only once when I was -at Mr. Mask's to dinner. Since then I have not seen him until the -other day, and perhaps that was why I said nothing. I remember -you told me he was your cousin, Eva, but I quite forgot to say -that I knew him." - -"Do you know Mr. Mask?" asked Hill. - -"Of course I do. You know I quarrelled with my old lawyer about -the money left by Palmer. He was most disagreeable, so I resolved -to change for a nicer man. I spoke to your father about it, and he -kindly gave me the address of his own lawyer. I went up and -settled things most satisfactorily. Of course Mr. Mask is a -fearful old mummy," prattled on Mrs. Palmer in her airy fashion, -"but he is agreeable over legal matters, and understands business. -Palmer's affairs were rather complicated, you know, so I placed -them all in Mr. Mask's hands. He has been my lawyer ever since, and -I have every reason to be pleased." - -"And you met my cousin there?" said Eva doubtfully. - -"Lord Saltars? Yes. I was dining with Mr. Mask and his wife in -their Bloomsbury Square house, a doleful old place. Lord Saltars -came in to see Mr. Mask on business after dinner, so Mr. Mask -asked him in to drink coffee. I was there, and so we met." - -"Did he mention my name?" asked Miss Strode stiffly. - -"Oh dear, no. He was unaware that I lived in the same village as -you did. We talked about general things. But he mentioned it to me -the other night at the circus, when I went to see the performance -at Shanton." - -"Did you go there?" - -"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Palmer laughing. "I'm sure this -place is dull enough. Any amusement pleases me. I didn't know at -the time that your father was dead, Eva, or I should not have -gone--not that I knew Mr. Strode, but still, you are my friend, -and I should have come to comfort you. But you know I'm at the -other end of the village, and the news had not time to get to me -before I started for Shanton to luncheon with some friends. I -remained with them for the night, and we went to the circus. Lord -Saltars sat next to me, and we remembered that we had met before. -In the course of conversation I mentioned that I lived at -Wargrove, and he asked if I knew you. I said that I did." - -"How did Lord Saltars know of the murder?" asked Allen hastily. - -"I believe he learned it from one of the performers called Miss----" - -"Miss Lorry," said Eva colouring--"I remember. Cain told her, and -she had the audacity to speak to me." - -Allen said nothing, remembering the message Miss Lorry had -delivered relative to the wooden hand. He had not spoken of it to -Eva hitherto, and thought wisely that this was not the time to -reveal his knowledge. He preferred to listen to Mrs. Palmer, who as -yet had not shown how she came to know that Eva needed the offer of -a situation. - -"So Miss Lorry spoke to you?" said Mrs. Palmer with great -curiosity; "such a bold woman, though handsome enough. Lord Saltars -seems to think a lot of her. Indeed I heard a rumour that he was -about to marry her. My friends told me. But people will gossip," -added Mrs. Palmer apologetically. - -"Lord Saltars and his doings do not interest me," said Eva -coldly. "We have only met once, and I don't like him. He is too -fast for me. I could never enjoy the company of a man like that. -I think as he was related by marriage to my father, he might have -called to see me about the matter, and offered his assistance." - -"We can do without that," cried Allen quickly. - -"Lord Saltars doesn't know that we can," replied Eva sharply; -"however, I understand how you met him, Mrs. Palmer, and how he -came to know about the murder through Miss Lorry, who heard of it -from Cain. But what has all this to do with your asking me to be your -companion?" - -Mrs. Palmer coloured again and seemed embarrassed. "My dear," she -said seriously, "I shall have to tell you about Mr. Mask first, -that you may know all. After the inquest he called to see me----" - -"But he came here," put in Eva. - -"Quite so, and told you that your father had left no money." - -"How do you know that?" - -"Mr. Mask told me," said the widow simply, and laid her hand on -Eva's hand; "don't be angry, my dear. Mr. Mask came to me and told -me you were poor. He asked me if I would help you in what way I -could, as he said he knew I was rich and kind hearted. I am the -first, but I really don't know if I'm the last." - -"I think you are," said Miss Strode softly. "I never gave Mr. -Mask leave to talk of my business, and I don't know why he should -have done so, as he did not seem to care what became of me." - -"Oh, but I think he intended to help you if he could, and came to tell -me of your dilemma for that purpose, Eva." - -"Apparently he wished to play the part of a good Samaritan at your -expense, Mrs. Palmer," said Eva drily; "however, I understand how -you came to know that I needed assistance, but Lord Saltars----" - -"Ah!" cried the widow vivaciously, "that is what puzzles me. Lord -Saltars seems to think you are rich." - -"Rich?" echoed Allen, while Eva also looked surprised. - -"Yes. He said you would no doubt inherit your father's money. I -answered--pardon me, Eva--that Mr. Strode was not rich, for I heard so -in another quarter." - -Eva looked at Allen, and Allen at Eva. Both guessed that the -quarter indicated was Mr. Hill, who had a long tongue and small -discretion. Mrs. Palmer, however, never noticed the exchange of -glances, and prattled on. "Lord Saltars insisted that your father had -brought home a fortune from Africa." - -"How did he know that?" asked Allen quickly. - -"I don't know, he didn't say. I of course began to believe him, for -when I hinted doubts, Lord Saltars said that if I offered to help -you, I would learn that you were poor. I really thought you were -rich, Eva, till Mr. Mask came to me, or I should have come before to -make you this offer. But Mr. Mask undeceived me. I told him what Lord -Saltars had said, but Mr. Mask replied that his lordship was quite -wrong--that Mr. Strode had left no money, and that you would not be -able to live. I therefore came to ask you to be my companion at the -salary of one hundred a year. I don't know how I dare offer it, my -dear," said the good-hearted widow; "and if I hadn't spoken just when -I came in, I should not have had the courage. But now I have made the -offer, what do you say?" - -"I think it is very good and kind of you--" - -"And bold. Yes, I can see it in your eyes--very speaking eyes they -are--that you think I am bold in meddling with your private affairs. -But if you really think so, please forgive me and I'll go away. You -may be sure I'll hold my tongue about the matter. If every one thinks -you are rich--as they do--it is not for me to contradict them." - -Eva laughed rather sadly. "I really don't know why people think I -am rich," she said in a low voice; "my father has always been poor -through speculation. What his money affairs were when he came home -I don't know. He said nothing to me, and no papers were found at -the hotel or in his pockets, likely to throw light on them. He -never told Mr. Mask he was rich----" - -"I thought at the inquest Mr. Mask said something about money -being left in his charge, Eva?" said Allen. - -Miss Strode nodded. "My father mentioned that later he might give -Mr. Mask some money to hold for him, and that he would come again -himself to get it. If not, he would send his wooden hand as a sign -that the money should be handed over to any one who brought it." - -"Humph," said Allen pulling his moustache, "it seems to me that the -hand has been stolen for that purpose." - -"If so, it will be taken to Mr. Mask, and then we will learn who -stole it. But of course Mr. Mask will not be able to give any -money, as my father--so he said--never left any with him." - -"This is all most interesting and mysterious," said Mrs. Palmer. "Oh -dear me, I wonder who killed your poor father? Don't look anxious, -Eva; what you and Mr. Hill say, will never be repeated by me. All I -come for is to make this offer, and if you think me rude or -interfering I can only apologise and withdraw." - -Eva caught the widow by the hand. "I think you are very kind," she -said cordially, "and I thankfully accept your offer." - -"Oh, you dear girl!" and Mrs. Palmer embraced her. - -"Have you quite decided to do that, Eva?" asked Allen. - -"Quite," she answered firmly. "Mrs. Palmer likes me----" - -"I quite adore you, Eva, dear!" cried the widow. - -"And I am fond of her." - -"I know you are, dear, though you never would call me Constance." - -"Later I may call you Constance," said Eva, smiling at the simple -way in which Mrs. Palmer talked. "So you may look upon it as -settled. I shall come to be your companion whenever you like." - -"Come at once, dear." - -"No, I must wait here a few days to reconcile my old nurse to my -departure." - -"Mrs. Merry? Oh, Eva, I am afraid she will hate me for this. She -doesn't like me as it is. I don't know why," added Mrs. Palmer -dolefully; "I am always polite to the lower orders." - -"Mrs. Merry is an odd woman," said Eva rising, "but her heart is -in the right place." - -"Odd people's hearts always are," said the widow. "Wait here and -talk to Allen," said Eva going to the door. "I'll see about tea." - -But the fact is Eva wanted to talk to Mrs. Merry, anxious to get over -a disagreeable interview, as she knew there would be strenuous -opposition. To her surprise, however, Mrs. Merry was in favour of the -scheme, and announced her decision when Eva came to the kitchen. - -"Don't tell me about it, Miss Eva," she said, "for I had my ear to the -keyhole all the time." - -"Oh, Nanny!" - -"And why do you say that?" asked the old woman bristling; "if I -ain't got the right to look after you who has? I never cared for -that Mrs. Palmer, as is common of commonest, so I listened to hear -what she'd come about." - -"Then you know all. What do you say?" - -"Go, of course." - -"But, Nanny, I thought----" - -"I know you did, deary," said Mrs. Merry penitently. "I'm always -calling folk names by reason of my having bin put on in life. And -Mrs. Palmer is common--there's no denying--her father being a -chemist and her late husband eggs and butter. But she's got a kind -heart, though I don't see what right that Mask thing had to talk -to her of your being poor when I've got this roof and fifty pound. -Nasty creature, he wouldn't help you. But Mrs. Palmer is kind, -Miss Eva, so I say, take what she offers. You'll be near me, and -perhaps you'll be able to teach her manners, though you'll never -make a silk purse out of a swine's ear." - -Eva was surprised by this surrender, and moreover saw that Mrs. -Merry's eyes were red. In her hands she held a letter, and Eva -remembered that the post had called an hour before. "Have you had -bad news, Nanny?" she asked anxiously. - -"I got a letter from Giles," said Mrs. Merry dully; "he writes -from Whitechapel, saying he's down on his luck and may come home. -That's why I want you to go to Mrs. Palmer, deary. I can't keep -you here with a nasty, swearing jail-bird in the house. Oh dear -me," cried Mrs. Merry, bursting into tears, "and I thought Giles was -dead, whatever you may say, drat him!" - -"But, Nanny, you needn't have him in the house if he treats you badly. -This place is your own." - -"I must have him," said the old woman helplessly, "else he'll break the -winders and disgrace me before every one. You don't know what an awful -man he is when roused. He'd murder me if I crossed him. But to think -he should turn up after all these years, when I thought him as dead -and buried and being punished for his wickedness." - -"Nanny," said Eva kissing the poor wrinkled face, "I'll speak to you -later about this. Meanwhile I'll tell Mrs. Palmer that I accept her -offer." - -"Yes do, deary. It goes to my heart for you to leave. But 'tis better -so, and you'll have your pride satisfied. And it will be Christian -work," added Mrs. Merry, "to dress that widder properly. Rainbows -ain't in it, with the colours she puts on." - -Eva could not help smiling at this view of the matter, and withdrew -to excuse herself offering tea to Mrs. Palmer. Nanny was not in a -state to make tea, and Eva wished to return and learn more, also to -comfort her. She therefore again told Mrs. Palmer that she accepted -the offer and would come to her next week. Then taking leave of -Allen, Eva went back to the kitchen. Mrs. Palmer and her companion -walked down the road. - -"I hope you think I've acted rightly, Mr. Hill," said the widow. - -"I think you are most kind," said Allen, "and I hope you will make Eva -happy." - -"I'll do my best. She shall be a sister to me. But I think," said -Mrs. Palmer archly, "that some one else may make her happier." - -"That is not to be my fate at present," said Allen a little sadly. -"Good-bye, Mrs. Palmer. I'll come and see you and Eva before I go -to town." - -"You'll always be welcome, Mr. Hill, and I can play the part of -gooseberry." So they parted laughing. - -Allen, thinking of this turn in Eva's affairs which had given her a -home and a kind woman to look after her, walked towards the common -to get a breath of fresh air before returning to "The Arabian -Nights." Also he wished to think over his plans regarding meeting -Horace Parkins and searching for Butsey, on whom seemed to hang the -whole matter of the discovery of Strode's assassin. At the end of -the road the young man was stopped by a tall, fresh-coloured girl -neatly dressed, who dropped a curtsey. - -"Well, Jane, and how are you?" asked Allen kindly, recognising -the girl as Wasp's eldest daughter. - -"I'm quite well, and, please, I was to give you this," said Jane. - -Allen took a brown paper parcel and looked at it with surprise. -It was directed to 'Lawrence Hill.' "My father," said Allen. -"Why don't you take it to the house?" - -"I saw you coming, sir, and I thought I'd give it to you. I've -just walked from Westhaven, and father will be expecting me home. -I won't have time to take the parcel to 'The Arabian Nights.'" - -"Where did this come from?" asked Allen, tucking the parcel under his -arm. - -"I got it from Cain, sir, at Colchester." - -"Have you been there?" asked Hill, noting the girl's blush. He -knew that Cain and Jane Wasp admired one another, though the -policeman was not at all in favour of Cain, whom he regarded, and -with some right to do so, as a vagabond. - -"Yes, sir. Mother sent me over with a message to a friend of -hers. I walked to Westhaven and took the train to Colchester. -Stag's Circus is there, and I met Cain. He brought that parcel -and asked me to take it to Mr. Hill." - -"But why should Cain send parcels to my father?" asked Allen. - -"I don't know, sir. But I must get home, or father will be -angry." - -When the girl marched off--which she did in a military way -suggestive of her father's training--Allen proceeded homeward. The -parcel was very light and he could not conjecture what was inside -it. He noted that the address had been written by some one to whom -writing was a pain, for the caligraphy sprawled and wavered -lamentably. Cain had been to a board school and could write very -well, so apparently it was not his writing. Allen wondered who -could be corresponding with his father, but as the matter was -really none of his business, he took the parcel home. At the gate -of "The Arabian Nights" he met his father. - -Mr. Hill was as gay and as airy as ever, and wore his usual brown -velvet coat and white trousers. Also he had on the large straw -hat, and a rose bloomed in his buttonhole. He saluted his son in -an off-hand manner. "I've been walking, Allen," he said lightly, -"to get inspiration for a poem on the fall of Jerusalem." - -"I think some Italian poet has written on that subject, sir." - -"But not as it should be written, Allen. However, I can't waste -time now in enlightening your ignorance. What have you here?" - -"A parcel for you," and Allen gave it. - -"For me, really." Mr. Hill was like a child with a new toy, and sat -down on the grass by the gate to open it. The removal of the brown -paper revealed a cardboard box. Hill lifted the lid, and there were -two dry sticks tied in the form of a cross with a piece of grass. -But Allen looked at this only for a moment. His father had turned -white, and after a moment quietly fainted away. The young man looked -down with a haggard face. "Am I right after all?" he asked himself. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MRS. HILL EXPLAINS - - -An hour later Allen was conversing with his mother. Mr. Hill, carried -into the house by Allen, had been revived; but he steadfastly refused -to speak as to the cause of his fainting; and put it down to the heat -of the weather and to his having taken too long a walk. These excuses -were so feeble that the son could not help his lip curling at their -manifest untruth. Hill saw this and told Allen he would lie down for -an hour or so. "When I rise I may tell you something," he said feebly. - -"I think we may as well understand one another," said Allen coldly. - -"Bring in here those things which came in the parcel," said Hill. - -"Only one thing came," replied his son--"a rough cross----" - -"Yes--yes--I know. Bring it in--paper and box and all. Where did you -get it?" - -Allen explained how Jane Wasp received it from Cain at Colchester, and -Mr. Hill listened attentively. "I understand now," he said at length. -"Put the things in my study. I'll see you later--say in two hours." - -The young man, wondering what it all meant, departed and left his -father to take--on the face of it--a much needed sleep. He went -outside and picked up the cross, the box, and the paper, which -still remained on the grassy bank near the gate. These he brought -into the study, and examined them. But nothing was revealed to his -intelligence. The box was an ordinary cardboard one; he did not -recognise the ill-formed writing, and the cross was simply two -sticks tied together by a wisp of dry grass. Why the contents of -the box should have terrified his father Allen could not say. And -that the sight of the symbol did terrify him, he was well assured, -since Mr. Hill was not a man given to fainting. The box came from -some one who knew Mr. Hill well, as the name Lawrence was on it, -and this was his father's second name rarely used. Mr. Hill -usually called himself Harold, and suppressed the Lawrence. But -Allen had seen the middle name inscribed in an old book, which had -been given by Strode to Hill in their college days. This -coincidence made Allen wonder if the sending of the cross and the -use of the rarely used name had anything to do with the murder. - -While he thus thought, with his face growing darker and darker, -the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered. She had been working in her -own room, and knew nothing of the affair. But some instinct made -her aware that Allen was in the house, and she never failed to be -with him when he was at home. Indeed, she was hardly able to bear -him out of her sight, and seized every opportunity to be in his -presence. With this love it was strange that Mrs. Hill should be -content that Allen should remain in South America for so long, and -pay only flying visits to the paternal roof. - - - -"You are back, Allen," she said softly, and came forward to lay -her hand on his wrinkled forehead. "My dear boy, why that frown? -Has Eva been unkind?" - -"Oh no," said Allen, taking his mother's hand and kissing it, "she -will not marry me yet." - -"Foolish girl. What does she intend to do--stop with Mrs. Merry, I -suppose, which is a dull life for her? Far better if she came to -me, even if she will not marry you at once." - -"She has accepted the position of companion to Mrs. Palmer." - -"Indeed," said Mrs. Hill, looking surprised; "I should have thought -her pride would have prevented her placing herself under an -obligation." - -Allen shrugged his shoulders. "There is no obligation," he said; "Eva -is to be paid a salary. Besides, she likes Mrs. Palmer, and so do I." - -"She is not a lady," said Mrs. Hill, pursing up her lips. - -"Nevertheless she has a kind heart, and will make Eva very happy. -I think, mother, it is the best that can be done. Eva doesn't want -to come here, and she will not marry me until the murderer of her -father is discovered." - -"Why won't she come to me?" asked Mrs. Hill sharply. - -Allen looked down. "She doesn't like my father," he said. - -"Very rude of her to tell you that. But I know my poor Harold is -not popular." - -"He is whimsical," said Allen, "and, somehow, Eva can't get on with -him. She was not rude, mother, but simply stated a fact. She likes -my father well enough to meet him occasionally, but she would not -care to live with him. And if it comes to that," added Allen -frowning, "no more should I. He is too eccentric for me, mother, and -I should think for you, mother." - -"I am fond of your father in my own way," said Mrs. Hill, looking down -and speaking in a low voice, as though she made an effort to confess -as much. "But does Eva expect to find out who murdered Mr. Strode?" - -"Yes. She refuses to marry me until the assassin is found and -punished. As she was bent on searching for the man herself, I offered -to search for her." - -Mrs. Hill frowned. "Why did you do that?" she asked sharply; "Strode -is nothing to you, and you have to return to America. Far better -find that capitalist you want, than waste your time in avenging the -death of that man." - -"You don't seem to like Mr. Strode, mother." - -"I hate him," said the woman harshly and clenching her fist: "I have -cause to hate him." - -"Had my father cause also?" asked Allen pointedly. - -She looked away. "I don't know," she answered gloomily. "Strode and -your father were very intimate all their lives, till both married. -Then we saw very little of him. He was not a good man--Strode, I mean, -Allen. If my word has any weight with you, stop this search." - -The young man rose and began to pace the library. "Mother, I must take -up the search," he said in an agitated voice, "for my father's sake. -No one but myself must search for the assassin." - -"What do you mean by that?" questioned Mrs. Hill, sitting very -upright and frowning darker than ever. - -Allen replied by asking a question. "Who knows that my father is called -Lawrence, mother?" - -Mrs. Hill uttered an ejaculation of surprise and grew pale. "Who -told you he was called so?" - -"I found the name in an old book of Cowper's poems given by Mr. -Strode to my father in their college days. It was presented to -Harold Lawrence Hill." - -"I remember the book," said Mrs. Hill, recovering her composure. "But -what is odd about your father having two names? He certainly has -dropped the Lawrence and calls himself simply, Harold Hill--but that -is for the sake of convenience. Only those who knew him in his young -days would know the name of Lawrence." - -"Ah!" said Allen, thoughtfully turning over the brown paper, "then this -was sent by some one who knew him in his young days." - -Mrs. Hill looked at the brown paper covering, at the box, and at the -roughly-formed cross. "What are these?" she asked carelessly. - -"That is what I should like to know," said her son; "at least I should -like to know why the sight of this cross made my father faint." - -Mrs. Hill gasped, and laid her hand on her heart as though she felt -a sudden pain. "Did he faint?" she asked--"did Lawrence faint?" The -young man noticed the slip. Usually his mother called his father Mr. -Hill or Harold, but never till this moment had he heard her call him -Lawrence. Apparently the memory of old events was working in her -breast. But she seemed genuinely perplexed as to the reason of Hill's -behaviour at the sight of the cross. "Where did he faint?" - -"Outside the gate," said Allen quickly, and explained how he had -received the parcel from Jane Wasp, and the circumstance of its -delivery, ending with the query: "Why did he faint?" - -"I can't say," said Mrs. Hill, pushing back the cross and box -pettishly; "there is no reason so far as I know. We'll ask your father -when he awakens." - -"He said he would explain," said Allen sadly; "and between you and me, -mother, we must have an explanation." - -"Your father won't like the use of the word 'must,' Allen." - -"I can't help that," said the young man doggedly, and went to the -door of the library. He opened it, looked out, and then closed it -again. His mother saw all this with surprise, and was still more -surprised when Allen spoke again. "Do you know, mother, why I say I -must undertake this investigation?" - -"No," said Mrs. Hill calmly; "I don't know." - -"It is because I wish to save my father's good name." - -"Is it in danger?" asked the woman, turning pale again. - -"It might be--if any one knew he met Mr. Strode at the Red Deeps on -the night of the murder." - -Mrs. Hill leaped to her feet and clutched her son's arm. "Allen," -she gasped, and the ashen colour of her face alarmed him, "how dare -you say that--it is not possible--it cannot--cannot--" - -"It is possible," said Allen firmly. "Sit down, mother, and let me -explain. I held my tongue as long as I could, but now my father and I -must have an explanation. The fact of his fainting at the sight of -this cross makes me suspicious, and the fact that Eva wants to -investigate the case makes me afraid of what may come out." - -"Has the cross anything to do with the affair?" - -"Heaven, whose symbol it is, only knows," said the young man gloomily. -Mother, "I am moving in the darkness, and I dread to come into the -light. If I undertake this search I may be able to save my father." - -"From what--from--from----" - -Allen nodded and sank his voice. "It may even come to that. -Listen, mother, I'll tell you what I know. On that night I went to -the Red Deeps to prove the falsity of Eva's dream, I found it only -too true." - -"But you never got to the Red Deeps," said Mrs. Hill, looking -steadily into her son's face, "you sprained your ankle." - -"So I did, but that was _after_ I knew the truth." - -"What truth?" - -"That Eva's dream was true; that her father was lying dead by the -spring of the Red Deeps." - -Mrs. Hill looked still more searchingly at him. "You saw that?" - -"I did--in the twilight. I reached there before it grew very -dark. I found the body, and, as in Eva's dream, I recognised it -by the gloved right hand----" - -"The wooden hand," moaned Mrs. Hill, rocking herself. "Oh, -heavens!" - -"Yes! The whiteness of the glove caught my eyes. From what Eva had -told me, I had no need to guess who was the dead man. The wooden -hand explained all. The corpse was that of Strode, shot through -the heart." - -"But there was a slight flesh wound on the arm, remember," said Mrs. -Hill. - -"I know, but I did not notice that at the time," said Allen quickly. -"At first, mother, I intended to give the alarm, and I was hurrying -back to Wargrove to tell Wasp and Jackson, when I caught sight of a -revolver lying in the mud. I took it up--there was a name on the -silver plate on the butt. It was----" Allen sank his voice still -lower. "It was my own name." - -"The revolver was yours?" - -"Yes. I brought it with me from South America, and kept it in my -portmanteau, since a weapon is not needed in England. But one day I -took it out to shoot some birds and left it in this library. I never -thought about it again, or I should have put it away. The next sight I -got of it was in the Red Deeps, and I thought----" - -"That your father took it to shoot Strode!" burst out Mrs. Hill. "You -can't be certain of that--you can't be certain. No, no, Lawrence!" -again she used the unaccustomed name. "Lawrence would never commit a -murder--so good--so kind--no, no." - -Allen looked surprised. He never expected his mother to stand up for -his father in this way. Hill, so far as the son had seen, was not kind -to any one, and he certainly was not good. Why Mrs. Hill, who seemed -to have no particular affection for him, should defend him in this way -puzzled the young man. She saw the effect her speech had produced and -beckoned Allen to sit down. "You must know all," she said--"you must -know how I came to marry your father; and then you will know why I -speak as I do, Allen." She laid a trembling hand on his shoulder. "You -never thought I was fond of your father?" - -Allen looked embarrassed. "Well, no, mother. I thought you tolerated -him. You have strength to rule the house and the whole county if you -chose to exert it, but you let my father indulge in his whims and -fancies, and allow him to speak to you, as he certainly should not -do. Oftentimes I have been inclined to interfere when hearing how -disrespectfully he speaks, but you have always either touched me, or -have given me a look." - -"I would let no one lay a finger on your father, Allen, no one--let -alone his son. I don't love your father, I never did, but"--she -drew herself up--"I respect him." - -The young man looked aghast. "I don't see how any one can respect -him," he said. "Heaven only knows I should like to be proud of my -father, but with his eccentricities----" - -"They cover a good heart." - -"Well, mother, you know best," said Allen soothingly. He did not -think his father possessed a good heart by any manner of means. The -young fellow was affectionate, but he was also keen sighted, and Mr. -Hill had never commanded his respect in any way. - -"I _do_ know best," said Mrs. Hill in a strong tone, and looked -quite commanding. "Allen, are you aware why I am so fond of Eva?" - -"Because she is the most charming girl in the world," said the -lover fondly. "Who could help being fond of Eva?" - -"Women are not usually fond of one another to that extent," said -Mrs. Hill drily; "and a mother does not always love the girl who -is likely to take her son away. No, Allen, I don't love Eva so -much for her own sake as because she is the daughter of Robert -Strode." - -"I thought you disliked him--you said he was not a good man." - -"Neither he was, Allen. He was the worst of men--but I loved him -all the same. I should have married him, but for a trouble that -came. I have never told any one what I am about to tell you, but -you must know. I don't believe your father killed Strode, and you -must do your best to keep him out of the investigation. With your -father's sensitive nature he would go mad if he were accused of -such a crime." - -"But my revolver being found in----" - -"That can be explained," said Mrs. Hill imperiously. "I shall ask -Harold"--she went back to the old name being calmer. "I shall ask -him myself to explain. He is innocent. He is whimsical and -strange, but he would not kill a fly. He is too good-hearted." - -Allen wondered more and more that his mother should be so blind. "I -am waiting to hear," he said resignedly. - -"You will not repeat what I say to Eva?" - -"To no one, mother. Great heavens, do you think I would?" - -"If you took after your father, poor, babbling soul, you would." - -"Ah," Allen kissed her hand, "but I am your own son, and know how to -hold my tongue. Come, mother, tell me all." - -"Then don't interrupt till I end; then you can make your -comments, Allen." She settled herself and began to speak slowly. -"Both my parents died when I was a young girl, and like Eva Strode I -was left without a penny. I was taken into the house of Lord Ipsen as -a nursery governess----" - -"What! Eva's mother----" - -"I did not teach her, as she was my own age, but I taught her younger -brother, who afterwards died. You promised not to interrupt, Allen. -Well, I was comparatively happy there, but Lady Ipsen did not like -me. We got on badly. There was a large house-party at the family seat -in Buckinghamshire, and I was there with my charge. Amongst the -guests were Mr. Strode and your father. They were both in love with -Lady Jane Delham." - -"What! my father also? I never knew----" - -"You never shall know if you interrupt," said his mother imperiously; -"wait and listen. I loved Mr. Strode, but as he was favoured by Lady -Jane I saw there was no chance for me. Your father then had not come -in for his money, and his father, ambitious and rich, was anxious that -he should make an aristocratic match. That was why he asked Lady Jane -to be his wife. She refused, as she loved Robert Strode. I felt very -miserable, Allen, and as your father was miserable also, he used to -console me. He was much appreciated for his talents in the house, and -as he was a great friend of Mr. Strode's his lack of birth was -overlooked. Not that I think Lord Ipsen would have allowed him to -marry Lady Jane. But he never guessed that Harold lifted his eyes so -high. Well, things were in this position when the necklace was -lost--yes, the necklace belonging to Lady Ipsen, a family heirloom -valued at ten thousand pounds. It was taken out of the safe." Mrs. -Hill dropped her eyes and added in a low voice, "I was accused." - -Allen could hardly believe his ears, and rose, filled with -indignation: "Do you mean to say that any one dared to accuse you?" - -"Lady Ipsen did. She never liked me, and made the accusation. She -declared that she left the key of the safe in the school-room. As -I was very poor, she insisted that I had taken it. As it happened -I did go to London shortly after the robbery and before it was -found out. Lady Ispen said that I went to pawn the necklace. I -could not prove my innocence, but the Earl interfered and stood -by me. He insisted that the charge was ridiculous, and made the -detectives which Lady Ipsen had called in, drop the investigation. -I was considered innocent by all save Lady Ipsen. The necklace -was never found, and has not been to this day. I was discharged -with hardly a penny in my pocket and certainly with no friend. -In spite of people saying I was innocent I could not get another -situation. I should have starved, Allen, and was starving in -London when your father came like an angel of light and--married me." - -"Married you? Did he love you?" - -"No, he loved Lady Jane, but she married Mr. Strode. But your father -was so angered at what he considered an unjust charge being made -against me, that he risked his father's wrath and made me his wife." - -"It was noble of him," said Allen, "but----" - -"It was the act of a saint!" cried Mrs. Hill, rising. "His father -cut him off with a shilling for what he did. I was penniless, -deserted, alone. I would have died but for Lawrence. He came--I -did not love him, nor he me, but I respect him for having saved a -broken-hearted woman from a doom worse than death. Allen, Allen, -can I ever repay your father for his noble act? Can you wonder -that I tolerate his whims--that I let him do what he likes? He -saved me--he surrendered all for me." - -"He did act well," admitted Allen, puzzled to think that his -whimsical, frivolous father should act so nobly, "but you made him -happy, mother. There is something to be said on your side." - -"Nothing! nothing!" cried Mrs. Hill with the martyr instinct of a -noble woman; "he gave up all for me. His father relented after a -time, and he inherited a fortune, but for a year we almost starved -together. He married me when I was under a cloud. I can never repay -him; never, never, I tell you, Allen," she said, facing him with -clenched fists, "if I thought that he committed this crime, I would -take the blame on myself rather than let him suffer. He saved me. -Shall I not save him?" - -"Was the person who stole the necklace ever discovered, mother?" - -"No, the necklace vanished and has never been found to this day. -I met Lady Jane Strode when she came here. She did not believe me -to be guilty, and we were good friends. So you see, Allen, it is -small wonder that I let your father do what he likes. Why should -I cross the desires of a man who behaved so nobly? Sometimes I do -interfere, as you know, for at times Harold needs guidance--but -only rarely." - -"Well, mother, I understand now, and can say nothing. But as to -how the revolver came to the Red Deeps----" - -"Your father shall explain," said Mrs. Hill, moving to the door; "come -with me." - -The two went to the room at the back of the house where Hill had lain -down. It was one of the Greek apartments where the little man -sometimes took his siesta. But the graceful couch upon which Allen had -left him lying an hour previous was empty, and the window was open on -to the Roman colonnade. There was no sign of Mr. Hill. - -"He must have gone into the garden," said the wife, and stepped out. - -But there was no sign of him there. The gardener was working in the -distance, and Mrs. Hill asked him where his master was. - -"Gone to London, ma'am," was the unexpected answer; "Jacobs drove him -to the Westhaven Station." - -Allen and his mother looked at one another with dread in their eyes. -This sudden departure was ominous in the extreme. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -ALLEN AS A DETECTIVE - - -Mr. Hill left no message behind him with the groom. Jacobs -returned and said that his master had gone to London; he did not -state when he would return. Allen and his mother were much -perplexed by this disappearance. It looked very much like a flight -from justice, but Mrs. Hill could not be persuaded to think ill of the -man to whom she owed so much. Like many women she took too humble -an attitude on account of the obligation she had incurred. Yet -Mrs. Hill was not humble by nature. - -"What will you do now, Allen?" she asked the next morning. - -"I intend to learn why Cain sent that parcel to my father. If he can -explain I may find out why my father is afraid." - -"I don't think he is afraid," insisted Mrs. Hill, much troubled. - -"It looks very like it," commented her son; "however, you had -better tell the servants that father has gone to London on -business. I expect he will come back. He can't stop away -indefinitely." - -"Of course he'll come back and explain everything. Allen, your -father is whimsical--I always admitted that, but he has a heart -of gold. All that is strange in his conduct he will explain on his -return." - -"Even why he took my revolver to the Red Deeps?" said Allen grimly. - -"Whatever he took it for, it was for no ill purpose," said Mrs. Hill. -"Perhaps he made an appointment to see Strode there. If so I don't -wonder, he went armed, for Strode was quite the kind of man who would -murder him." - -"In that case Mr. Strode has fallen into his own trap. However, I'll -see what I can do." - -"Be careful, Allen. Your father's good name must not suffer." - -"That is why I am undertaking the investigation," replied the young -man, rising. "Well, mother, I am going to see Mrs. Merry and ask where -Cain is to be found. The circus may have left Colchester." - -"You might take the brown paper that was round the box," suggested -Mrs. Hill. "Mrs. Merry may be able to say if the address is in her -son's writing." - -"I don't think it is--the hand is a most illiterate one. Cain knows -how to write better. I have seen his letters to Eva." - -"What!" cried Mrs. Hill, scandalised, "does she let a lad in that -position write to her?" - -"Cain is Eva's foster-brother, mother," said Allen drily, "and she -is the only one who can manage him." - -"He's a bad lot like his father was before him," muttered Mrs. Hill, -and then went to explain to the servants that Mr. Hill would be -absent for a few days. - -Allen walked to Misery Castle, and arrived there just before mid-day. -For some time he had been strolling on the common wondering how to -conduct his campaign. He was new to the detective business and did -not very well know how to proceed. At first he had been inclined to -seek professional assistance; but on second thoughts he decided to -take no one into his confidence for the present. He dreaded what he -might learn concerning his father's connection with the crime, as -he by no means shared his mother's good opinion of Mr. Hill. Allen -and his father had never got on well together, as their natures -were diametrically opposed to each other. Allen had the steady good -sense of his mother, while the father was airy and light and -exasperatingly frivolous. Had not Mrs. Hill thought herself bound, -out of gratitude, to live with the man who had done so much for -her, and because of her son Allen, she certainly would not have put -up with such a trying husband for so many years. Allen was always -impatient of his father's ways; and absence only confirmed him in -the view he took of his evergreen sire. He could scarcely believe -that the man was his father, and always felt relieved when out of -his presence. However, he determined to do his best to get to the -bottom of the matter. He could not believe that Mr. Hill had fired -the fatal shot, but fancied the little man had some knowledge of -who had done so. And whether he was an accessory before or after -the fact was equally unpleasant. - -On arriving at Mrs. Merry's abode he was greeted by that good lady -with the news that Eva had gone to spend the day with Mrs. Palmer. -"To get used to her, as you might say," said Mrs. Merry. "Oh, Mr. -Allen, dear," she spoke with the tears streaming down her withered -face, "oh, whatever shall I do without my deary?" - -"You'll see her often," said Allen soothingly. - -"It won't be the same," moaned Mrs. Merry. "It's like marrying a -daughter, not that I've got one, thank heaven--it's never the same." - -"Well--well--don't cry, there's a good soul. I have come to see you -about Cain." - -Mrs. Merry gave a screech. "He's in gaol! I see it in your eyes! -Oh, well I knew he'd get there!" - -"He hasn't got there yet," said the young man impatiently; "come -into the drawing-room. I can explain." - -"Is it murder or poaching or burglary?" asked Mrs. Merry, still bent -on believing Cain was in trouble, "or horse-stealing, seeing he's in a -circus?" - -"It's none of the three," said Allen, sitting down and taking the -brown paper wrapping out of his pocket. "Jane Wasp saw him in -Colchester, and he's quite well." - -"And what's she been calling on my son there, I'd like to know?" asked -Mrs. Merry, bridling. "He shan't marry her, though he says he loves -her, which I don't believe. To be united with that meddlesome Wasp -policeman. No, Mr. Allen, never, whatever you may say." - -"You can settle that yourself. All I wish to know is this," he spread -out the paper. "Do you know whose writing this is?" - -Mrs. Merry, rather surprised, bent over the paper, and began to spell -out the address with one finger. "Lawrence Hill," she said, "ah, they -used to call your father that in the old days. I never hear him called -so now." - -"Never mind. What of the writing?" - -Mrs. Merry looked at it at a distance, held it close to her nose, -and then tilted it sideways. All the time her face grew paler and -paler. Then she took an envelope out of her pocket and glanced from -the brown paper to the address. Suddenly she gave a cry, and threw -her apron over her head. "Oh, Giles--Giles--whatever have you bin up -to!" - -"What do you mean?" asked Allen, feeling inclined to shake her. - -"It's Giles's writing," sobbed Mrs. Merry, still invisible; -"whatever you may say, it's his own writing, he never having been -to school and writing pothooks and hangers awful." She tore the -apron from her face and pointed, "Look at this Lawrence, and at -this, my name on the envelope. He wrote, saying he's coming here to -worry me, and I expect he's sent to your pa saying the same. They -was thick in the old days, the wicked old days," said Mrs. Merry -with emphasis, "I mean your pa and him as is dead and my brute of a -Giles." - -"So Giles Merry wrote this?" said Allen thoughtfully, looking at -the brown paper writing. "I wonder if the cross is a sign between my -father and him, which has called my father to London?" - -"Have you seen Giles, sir?" asked Mrs. Merry dolefully, "if so, tell -him I'll bolt and bar the house and have a gun ready. I won't be -struck and bullied and badgered out of my own home." - -"I haven't seen your husband," explained Allen, rising, "this -parcel was sent to my father by your son through Jane Wasp." -Mrs. Merry gave another cry. "He's got hold of Cain--oh, and Cain said -he hadn't set eyes on him. He's ruined!" Mrs. Merry flopped into a -chair. "My son's ruined--oh, and he was my pride! But that wicked -father of his would make Heaven the other place, he would." - -"I suppose Cain must have got the parcel from his father?" said Allen. - -"He must have. It's in Giles's writing. What was in the parcel, -sir?" - -"A cross made of two sticks tied with a piece of grass. Do you -know what that means?" - -"No, I don't, but if it comes from Giles Merry, it means some -wicked thing, you may be sure, Mr. Allen, whatever you may say." - -"Well, my father was much upset when he got this parcel and he has -gone to London." - -"To see Giles?" asked Mrs. Merry. - -"I don't know. The parcel came from Colchester." - -"Then Giles is there, and with my poor boy," cried Mrs. Merry, -trembling. "Oh, when will my cup of misery be full? I always -expected this." - -"Don't be foolish, Mrs. Merry. If your husband comes you can show him -the door." - -"He'd show me his boot," retorted Mrs. Merry. "I've a good -mind to sell up, and clear out. If 'twasn't for Miss Eva, I -would. And there, I've had to part from her on account of Giles. -If he came and made the house, what he do make it, which is the -pit of Tophet, a nice thing it would be for Miss Eva." - -"I'll break his head if he worries Eva," said Allen grimly; "I've -dealt before with that sort of ruffian. But I want you to tell me -where Cain is to be heard of. I expect the circus has left -Colchester by this time." - -"Cain never writes to me, he being a bad boy," wailed Mrs. Merry, -"an' now as his father's got hold of him he'll be worse nor ever. -But you can see in the papers where the playactors go, sir." - -"To be sure," said Allen, "how stupid I am. Well, good-day, Mrs. -Merry, and don't tell Miss Eva anything of this." - -"Not if I was tortured into slices," said Mrs. Merry, walking to the -door with Allen, "ah, it's a queer world. I hope I'll go to my long -home soon, sir, and then I'll be where Merry will never come. You -may be sure they won't let him in." - -This view of the case appeared to afford Mrs. Merry much -satisfaction, and she chuckled as Allen walked away. He went along -the road wondering at the situation. His father was not a good -husband to his mother--at least Allen did not think so. Giles -was a brute to his wife, and the late Mr. Strode from all accounts -had been a neglectful spouse. "And they were all three boon -companions," said Allen to himself; "I wonder what I'll find out -about the three? Perhaps Giles has a hand in the death of Strode. At -all events the death has been caused by some trouble of the past. God -forgive me for doubting my father, but I dread to think of what I -may learn if I go on with the case. But for my mother's sake I -_must_ go on." - -Allen now directed his steps to Wasp's abode, as he knew at this hour -the little policeman would be at home. It struck Allen that it would -be just as well to see the bullet which had pierced the heart of -Mr. Strode. If it was one from his own revolver--and Allen knew -the shape of its bullets well--there would be no doubt as to his -father's guilt. But Allen fancied, that from the feeble nature of -the wound on the arm, it was just the kind of shaky aim which would -be taken by a timid man like his father. Perhaps (this was Allen's -theory) the three companions of old met at the Red Deeps--Mr. Strode, -Giles, and his father. Mr. Hill, in a fit of rage, might have fired -the shot which ripped the arm, but Giles must have been the one who -shot Strode through the heart. Of course Allen had no grounds to -think in this way, and it all depended on the sight of the bullet in -the possession of Wasp as to the truth of the theory. Allen intended -to get Wasp out of the room on some pretext and then fit the bullet -into his weapon. He had it in his pocket for the purpose. This was -the only way in which he could think of solving the question as to -his father's guilt or innocence. - -Wasp was at home partaking of a substantial dinner. Some of the -children sat round, and Mrs. Wasp, a grenadier of a woman, was at the -head of the table. But three children sat out with weekly journals on -their laps, and paper and pencil in hand. They all three looked -worried. After greeting Allen, Wasp explained. - -"There's a prize for guessing the names of European capitals," he -said; "it's given in the _Weekly Star_, and I've set them to work to -win the prize. They're working at it now, and don't get food till -each gets at least two capitals. They must earn money somehow, sir." - -"And they've been all the morning without getting one, sir," -said Mrs. Wasp plaintively. Apparently her heart yearned over -her three children, who looked very hungry. "Don't you think they -might eat now in honour of the gentleman's visit?" - -"Silence," cried Wasp, "sit down. No talking in the ranks. -Wellington, Kitchener, and Boadicea"--these were the names of the -unhappy children--"must do their duty. Named after generals, sir," -added Wasp with pride. - -"Was Boadicea a general?" asked Allen, sorry for the unfortunate trio, -who were very eagerly searching for the capitals in a school atlas. - -"A very good one for a woman, sir, as I'm informed by Marlborough, -my eldest, sir, as is at a board school. Boadicea, if you don't -know the capital of Bulgaria you get no dinner." - -Boadicea whimpered, and Allen went over to the three, his kind heart -aching for their hungry looks. "Sofia is the capital. Put it down." - -"Right, sir," said Wasp in a military fashion, "put down Sofia." - -"What capital are you trying to find, Wellington?" asked Allen. - -"Spain, sir, and Kitchener is looking for Victoria." - -"The Australian country, sir, not Her late Majesty," said Wasp -smartly. - -"Madrid is the capital of Spain, and Melbourne that of Victoria." - -The children put these down hastily and simply leaped for the table. - -"Silence," cried the policeman, horrified at this hurry; "say grace." - -The three stood up and recited grace like a drill sergeant shouting -the standing orders for the day. Shortly, their jaws were at work. -Wasp surveyed the family grimly, saw they were orderly, and then -turned to his visitor. - -"Now, Mr. Allen, sir, I am at your disposal. Come into the -parlour." - -He led the way with a military step, and chuckles broke out amongst -the family relieved of his presence. When in the small room and the -door closed, Allen came artfully to the subject of his call. It -would not do to let Wasp suspect his errand. Certainly the -policeman had overcome his suspicion that Allen was concerned in -the matter, but a pointed request for the bullet might reawaken -them. Wasp was one of those hasty people who jump to conclusions, -unsupported by facts. - -"Wasp," said Allen, sitting down under a portrait of Lord Roberts, -"Miss Strode and myself are engaged, as you know." - -"Yes, sir." Wasp standing stiffly saluted. "I give you joy." - -"Thank you. We have been talking over the death of her father, -and she is anxious to learn who killed him." - -"Natural enough," said the policeman, scratching his chin, "but it is -not easy to do that, especially"--Wasp looked sly--"as there is no -reward." - -"Miss Strode is not in a position to offer a reward," replied -Allen, "so, for her sake, I am undertaking the search. I may want -your assistance, Wasp, and I am prepared to pay you for the same. -I am not rich, but if ten pounds would be of any use----" - -"If you'd a family of ten, sir, you'd know as it would," said -Wasp, looking gratified. "I'm not a haggler, Mr. Allen, but with bread -so dear, and my children being large eaters, I'm willing to give you -information for twenty pounds." - -"I can't afford that," said Allen decidedly. - -"I can tell you something about Butsey," said Wasp eagerly. - -"Ten pounds will pay you for your trouble," replied Allen, "and -remember, Wasp, if you don't accept the offer and find the culprit -on your own, there will be no money coming from the Government." - -"There will be promotion, though, Mr. Allen," said Wasp, drawing -himself up, "and that means a larger salary. Let us say fifteen." - -"Very good, though you drive a hard bargain. When the murderer is -laid by the heels I'll pay you fifteen pounds. No, Wasp," he added, -seeing what the policeman was about to say, "I can't give you -anything on account. Well, is it a bargain?" - -"It must be, as you won't do otherwise," said Wasp ruefully. "What do -you want to know?" - -"Tell me about this boy." - -"Butsey?" Wasp produced a large note-book. "I went to Westhaven to -see if there was truth in that Sunday school business he told me -about when I met him. Mr. Allen, there's no Sunday school; but -there was a treat arranged for children from London." - -"Something of the Fresh Air Fund business?" - -"That's it, sir. This was a private business, from some folk as -do kindnesses in Whitechapel. A lot of children came down on -Wednesday----" - -Allen interrupted. "That was the day Mr. Strode came down?" - -"Yes, sir, and on that night he was shot at the Red Deeps. Well, -sir, Butsey must have been with the ragged children as he looks -like that style of urchin. But I can't be sure of this. The -children slept at Westhaven and went back on Thursday night." - -"And Butsey saw Mrs. Merry in the morning of Thursday?" - -"He did, sir, and me later. Butsey I fancy didn't go back till -Saturday. But I can't be sure of this." - -"You don't seem to be sure of anything," said Allen tartly. -"Well, I can't say your information is worth much, Wasp." - -"Hold on, sir. I've got the address of the folk in Whitechapel -who brought the children down. If you look them up, they may know -something of Butsey." - -"True enough. Give me the address." - -Wasp consented, and wrote it out in a stiff military hand, while -Allen went on artfully, "Was any weapon found at the Red Deeps?" - -"No, sir," said Wasp, handing his visitor the address of the -Whitechapel Mission, which Allen put in his pocket-book. "I wish -the revolver had been found, then we'd see if the bullet fitted." - -"Only one bullet was found." - -"Only one, sir. Dr. Grace got it out of the body. It is the bullet -which caused the death, and I got Inspector Garrit to leave it with -me. Perhaps you'd like to see it, sir?" - -"Oh, don't trouble," said Allen carelessly. "I can't say anything -about it, Wasp." - -"Being a gentleman as has travelled you might know something, Mr. -Allen," said Wasp, and went to a large tin box, which was inscribed -with his name and the number of his former regiment, in white -letters. From this he took out a packet, and opening it, -extracted a small twist of paper. Then he placed the bullet in -Allen's hand. - -"I should think it came from a Derringer," said Wasp. - -Allen's heart leaped, for his revolver was not a Derringer. He -turned the bullet in his hand carelessly. "It might," he said -with a shrug. "Pity the other bullet wasn't found." - -"The one as ripped the arm, sir? It's buried in some tree trunk, -I guess, Mr. Allen. But it would be the same size as this. Both -were fired from the same barrel. First shot missed, but the -second did the business. Hold on, sir, I've got a drawing of the -Red Deeps, and I'll show you where we found the corpse," and Wasp -left the room. - -Allen waited till the door was closed, then hastily took the -revolver from his breast-pocket. He tried the bullet, but it proved -to be much too large for the revolving barrel, and could not have -been fired therefrom. "Thank heaven," said Allen, with a sigh of -relief, "my father is innocent." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -LORD SALTARS - - -Mrs. Palmer dwelt in a large and imposing house, some little -distance from the village, and standing back a considerable way -from the Shanton Road. It had a park of fifteen acres filled with -trees, smooth lawns, a straight avenue, imposing iron gates, and a -lodge, so that it was quite an impressive mansion. The building -itself was square, of two stories, painted white, and had many -windows with green shutters. It somewhat resembled an Italian -villa, and needed sunshine to bring out its good points; but in -wet weather it looked miserable and dreary. It was elevated on a -kind of mound, and a stone terrace ran round the front and the -side. At the back were large gardens and ranges of hot-houses. -Everything was kept as neat as a new pin, for Mrs. Palmer had many -servants. Being rich, she could afford to indulge her fancies, and -made full use of her money. - -"La, dear," said Mrs. Palmer, when Eva was settled with her as -companion, "what's the use of five thousand a year if you don't -make yourself comfortable? I was brought up in a shabby way, as -poor dead pa was a small--very small--chemist at Shanton. Palmer -had his shop in Westhaven and was also in a grubbing way of -business till people took to coming to Westhaven. Then property -rose in value, and Palmer made money. He used to call on pa and -commiserate with him about the dull trade in Shanton, where people -were never sick. He advised him to move to Westhaven, but pa, losing -heart after the death of ma, would not budge. Then Palmer proposed to -me, and though I was in love with Jimmy Eccles at the Bank, I thought -I'd marry money. Oh, dear me," sighed Mrs. Palmer looking very pretty -and placid, "so here I am a widow." - -"A happy widow," said Eva, smiling. - -"I don't deny that, dear. Though, to be sure, the death of poor pa, -and of Palmer, were blows. I was fond of both. Jimmy Eccles -wanted to marry me when Palmer went, but I sent him off with a flea -in his ears. It was only my money he wanted. Now he's married a -freckled-faced girl, whose pa is a draper." - -"I suppose you will marry again, Mrs. Palmer?" - -"I suppose I will, when I get the man to suit. But I do wish, Eva -dear, you would call me Constance. I'm sure you might, after being -three days in the house. Call me Constance, and I'll tell you -something which will please you." - -"What is it, Constance?" - -"There's a dear. I shan't tell you yet--it's a surprise, and perhaps -you may be angry with me. But some one is coming to dinner." - -"Allen?" asked Eva, her face lighting up. - -"No! He's in town. At least you told me so." - -Eva nodded. "Yes; he went up to town last week, after seeing -Wasp." - -"About that horrid murder?" - -"Certainly. Allen is trying to learn who killed my father." - -"It's very good of him," said the widow, fanning herself -vigorously, "and I'm sure I hope he'll find out. The man who shot -Mr. Strode should be hanged, or we won't sleep in our beds safe. -Why, Eva, you have no idea how I tremble here at nights. This is a -lonely house, and these holiday trippers might bring down burglars -amongst them." - -"I don't think you need fear, Constance. There have been no -burglars down here. Besides, you have a footman, and a coachman, -and a gardener. With three men you are quite safe." - -"I'm sure I hope so, dear. But one never knows. When do you expect Mr. -Hill back?" - -"In a few days. I don't know what he's doing. He refuses to tell -me anything until he finds some definite clue. But I have his -address, and can write to him when I want to." - -"His father is in town also--so Mrs. Hill told me." - -"Yes, Mr. Hill went up before Allen. I believe he has gone to some -sale to buy ancient musical instruments." - -"Dear me," said Mrs. Palmer, "what rubbish that man does spend his -money on. What's the use of buying instruments you can't play on? -I dare say he'll try to, though, for Mr. Hill is the queerest man -I ever set eyes on." - -"He _is_ strange," said Eva gravely. She did not wish to tell Mrs. -Palmer that she disliked the little man, for after all he was -Allen's father, and there was no need to say anything. "But Mr. -Hill is very clever." - -"So they say. But he worries me. He's always got some new idea in -his head. I think he changes a thousand times a day. Mrs. Merry -doesn't like him, but then she likes no one, not even me." - -"Poor nurse," said Eva sadly, "she has had an unhappy life." - -"I don't think you have had a bright one, dear; but you shall -have, if I can make it so. Are you sure you have everything you -want?" - -"Everything," said Eva affectionately; "you are more than kind, -Mrs.----" - -"_Constance!_" cried the pretty widow in a high key. - -"Constance, of course. But tell me your surprise." - -Mrs. Palmer began to fidget. "I don't know if you will be pleased, -after all, Eva. But if you don't like to meet him say you have a -headache, and I'll entertain him myself." - -"Who is it?" asked Eva, surprised at this speech. - -"Lord Saltars," said Mrs. Palmer in a very small voice, and not -daring to look at her companion. - -Miss Strode did not reply at once. She was ill-pleased that the man -should come to the house, because she did not wish to meet him. Her -mother's family had done nothing for her, and even when she lost -her father, Saltars, although in the neighbourhood, had not been -kind enough to call. Eva met him once, and, as she had told Mrs. -Palmer, did not like his free and easy manner. However, it was not -her place to object to Saltars coming. This was not her house, and -she was merely a paid companion. This being the case, she overcame -her momentary resentment and resolved to make the best of the -position. She did this the more especially as she knew that Mrs. -Palmer had only been actuated in inviting Saltars by her worship of -rank. "I shall be quite pleased to meet my cousin," said Eva. - -"I hope you are not annoyed, Eva." - -"I am not exactly pleased, but this is your house, and----" - -"Oh, please--please don't speak like that," cried the widow, "you -make me feel so cheap. And the fact is--I may as well confess -it--Lord Saltars, knowing you were with me, for I told my Shanton -friends and they told him, asked if I would invite him to dinner." - -"To meet me, I suppose?" - -"I fancy so. But why don't you like him, Eva He's a very nice man." - -"Not the kind of man I care about," replied Eva, rising; -"however, Mrs. Palmer, I'll meet him. It's time to dress now." -She glanced at the clock. "At what time does he arrive?" - -"At seven. He's at Shanton." - -"Ah! Is the circus there again?" - -"Yes. It is paying a return visit. But I know you're angry with -me, dear--you call me Mrs. Palmer." - -"Very well, then, Constance," said Eva, and kissing the pouting widow -she escaped to her own room. - -Mrs. Palmer was kind and generous, and made her position more -pleasant than she expected. But Mrs. Palmer was also foolish in -many ways, particularly in her worship of rank. Because Lord Saltars -had a title she was willing to overlook his deficiencies, though he -was neither intellectual nor amusing. Eva really liked Mrs. -Palmer and felt indebted to her, but she wished the widow's good -taste had led her to refuse Saltars permission to call. But -there--as Mrs. Merry would say--Mrs. Palmer not being a gentlewoman -had no inherent good taste. But for her kind heart she would have -been intolerable. However, Eva hoped to improve her into something -better, by gentle means, though Constance with her loud tastes and -patent tuft-hunting was a difficult subject. - -As she was in mourning for her father, Eva dressed in the same -black gauze gown in which she had hoped to welcome him, but without -any touch of colour on this occasion. As she went down the stairs, -she hoped that Mrs. Palmer would be in the room to welcome her -noble visitor, so as to save the embarrassment of a _tete-a-tete_. -But Mrs. Palmer was one of those women who never know the value of -time, and when Eva entered the drawing-room she found herself -greeted by a short, square-built jovial-looking man of forty. -Saltars was perfectly dressed and looked a gentleman, but his small -grey eyes, his red, clean-shaven face and remarkably closely -clipped hair did not, on the whole, make up a good-looking man. As -soon as he saw Eva, he strolled forward calmly and eyed her -critically. - -"How are you, Miss Strode?--or shall I say Cousin Eva?" - -"I think Miss Strode is sufficient," said Eva, seating herself. "I -am sorry Mrs. Palmer is not down yet." - -"By Jove, I'm not," said Saltars, taking possession of a near -chair. "I want to have a talk with you." - -"This is hardly the hour or the place." - -"Come now, Miss Strode--if you will insist on being so stiff--you -needn't be too hard on a chap. I know I should have called, and I -quite intended to do so, but I had reasons----" - -"I don't ask for your reasons, Lord Saltars." - -The man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We -don't seem to get on," he said at length, "yet I wish to be -friendly. See here, I want my mother to call and see you." - -"If Lady Ipsen calls, I shall be pleased." - -"In a society way, but you won't be heart-pleased." - -"No," said Eva, very decidedly; "how can you expect me to? Your -family has not treated me or my dead father well." - -"Your father----" Saltars clicked again and seemed on the point -of saying something uncomplimentary of the dead; but a gleam in -his companion's eye made him change his mind. "I know you've been -a bit neglected, and I'm very sorry it should be so," said he -bluntly. "I assure you that it was always my wish you should be -invited to stop with us in Buckinghamshire. And my father was in -favour of it too." - -"But Lady Ipsen wasn't," said Eva coolly; "don't trouble to -apologise, Lord Saltars, I should not have gone in any case." - -"No, by Jove, I can see that. You're as proud as a peacock--just -like the portrait of Lady Barbara Delham who lived in Queen -Anne's reign. And she was a Tartar." - -Eva began to smile. Saltars was amusing. She saw that he was -simply a thoughtless man, who lived for himself alone. He -apparently wished to be friendly, so as Eva had no real grudge -against him, she unbent. - -"I don't think we need quarrel," she said. - -"No, by Jove. But I shan't. Any quarrelling that is to be done -must be on your side. There's enough in our family as it is. You -should hear how my mother and the dowager Lady Ipsen fight: but then -the dowager is a dreadful old cat," he finished candidly. - -"I have never seen her." - -"You wouldn't forget her if you did. She's beaked like a parrot, and -talks like one. She and I don't hit it off. She's one of what they -call the old school, whatever that means, and she thinks I'm a low -person--like a groom. What do you think?" - -Lord Saltars was not unlike a groom in some ways, but his good nature -and candour amused Eva. "I am not a person to judge," she said, -smiling. - -"By Jove, you might have been, though," said he, fixing his small grey -eyes on her; "supposing you became Lady Saltars?" - -"There's not the slightest chance of that," said Eva coldly. - -"There isn't now: but there might have been. And after all, why not -now, if things are what your father said they were?" - -Miss Strode drew herself up. She thought he was going too far. "I -really don't know what you mean. I am engaged to be married." - -"I know; to a fellow called Hill. Your father told me." - -"Lord Saltars, did you meet my father after he came home?" - -"Of course I did. He called to see me when he came to London, and -corresponded with me long before that. I say, do you remember when I -came to see you at Wargrove?" - -"Yes. We did not get on well together." - -"By Jove, no more we did! That was a pity, because I came to see -what kind of a wife you'd make." - -"You're very kind," said Eva indignantly, "but I'm not on the -market to be examined like a horse." - -"Haw--haw," laughed the other, slapping his knee, "that's the kind of -thing the dowager would say. Don't get waxy, Eva--Miss Strode then, -though I wish you'd call me Herbert and I'd call you Eva." - -"I shall call you Lord Saltars." - -"Saltars without the confounded lord," urged the man pertinaciously. - -"No; go on. What were you saying? Yes, that you came to see what sort -of a wife I'd make. Who told you to?" - -"Your father." - -"I don't believe it." - -"It's true, though. Your father wanted you to marry me. He kept -writing to me from South Africa to keep me up to the scratch, and -said he was gathering a fortune for us both. When he came home he -called on me and told me you had some folly in your head about this -chap Hill, and----" - -Eva rose indignantly, "Lord Saltars," she said calmly and -distinctly, "I don't allow any one to talk to me in this way. My -engagement to Mr. Allen Hill is not a folly. And I don't see why my -father should have talked to you about it." - -"Because he wanted me to marry you," said Saltars, rising and -following her to the fireplace. - -Eva placed one slippered foot on the fender, and an elbow on the -mantelpiece. She looked angry, but extremely pretty and well-bred. -Saltars adopted the same attitude opposite her and looked more like a -groom than ever. But the expression of his face was so good-natured -that Eva could not feel as angry as she ought to have done. - -"I should never have married you," she said, her colour deepening. "I -understand that you have other views." - -Saltars grew red in his turn. "It's that boy Cain's been talking," he -said; "I'll break his head." - -"That is for you and Cain to decide," said Miss Strode indifferently, -"but you can quite understand why I don't discuss these things." - -Saltars kicked the fender sulkily. "I wish you would be more -friendly, Eva," he said. "I need a friend, and so, by Jove, do you." - -"How can I befriend you?" - -"Well, I'm in love with Miss Lorry, and there will be a shine if -I marry her. She's perfectly straight and----" - -"I don't want to hear about her," said Eva angrily, "and if you were a -gentlemen you wouldn't talk to me of that sort of person." - -"She's a perfectly decent sort," said Saltars, angry in his turn, "I -intend to make her my wife." - -"That has nothing to do with me. And I wish you'd drop this -conversation, Lord Saltars. It doesn't interest me. I am quite willing -to be friends. Your manner is absurd, but you mean well. Come," and -she held out her hand. - -Saltars took it with a long breath. "Just like the dowager," said he, -"just as nippy. I'd like to see you have a turn up with old Lady -Ipsen." - -"Well, then," said Eva, "now we are friends and you promise not to -talk nonsense to me, tell me what you mean by my father making a -fortune for me." - -"For both of us, by Jove," said his lordship; "you were to be Lady -Saltars, and then we were to have forty thousand pounds." - -"But my father didn't leave me a penny," said Eva. - -"That's what I wish to see you about," said Saltars earnestly. "I -heard from Mrs. Palmer's friends that you were without money, and were -her companion, so I wrote asking to come to-night. I want to be your -friend and help you. You ought to have forty thousand pounds." - -"How do you know that?" - -"Because I saw your father twice before he was killed: within the -last six weeks. He told me that he had brought home forty thousand -pounds. Twice he told me that; but he did not say how it was -invested. I expect his lawyer, Mask, can tell you. He's my lawyer -too." - -"Mr. Mask told me that I inherited no money." - -"Yet your father saw him," said the perplexed Saltars. - -"I know he did; but he said nothing about forty thousand pounds. I -know that he told Mr. Mask he would place some money in his keeping, -without mentioning the amount, but he never did so." - -"Didn't you find the money in his portmanteau or box, or----?" - -"We found nothing; nor did we find any papers mentioning that such a -sum of money was in existence." - -"Then he must have been robbed of it, when dead." - -Eva shook her head. "Nothing was taken out of his pockets. His money, -his jewellery, his watch--nothing was taken." - -"Queer," said Saltars. "Did you find in his pockets a large blue -pocket-book with his crest on it, stamped in gold?" - -"No. When did you see that?" - -"When he was talking to me. I was hard up. I don't mind saying," -said Saltars frankly, "that I'm always hard up. As your father -looked upon me as his intended son-in-law, he gave me a pony, and -took the notes out of the blue pocket-book. He carried his money -there." - -"He would scarcely carry forty thousand pounds there." - -"No; but he might have carried a letter of credit for that -amount. Or at least he would have some memorandum of such a large -sum. If any notes were stolen with the pocket-book, you can trace -those by the numbers when the murderer presents them, and then -the beast will be caught. But the forty thousand----" - -"Stop--stop," said Eva, my head is in a whirl. "Are you sure?" - -"Perfectly; I was to marry you, and then we were to get the money. -And I may tell you that your father said, more would come to us -when he died. Depend upon it, Eva, the murder was committed for -the sake of that money." - -"I wonder if my father meant diamonds?" said Eva. - -Saltars started. "By Jove, I shouldn't wonder," he said eagerly, -"he would bring diamonds from South Africa as the easiest way to -carry such a large sum. Perhaps he had the diamonds in his pocket -and they were stolen." - -"I must tell Allen this." - - - -"Who is Allen?--oh, young Hill! Don't deny it. I can see it in your -face, it's the lucky man. And by Jove he is. I don't see why I should -surrender you. Your father wished us to marry----" - -"You go too fast, Lord Saltars. Remember Miss Lorry." - -Saltars would have said something more but that the door opened and -Mrs. Palmer, fastening her glove, sailed in. "Not a word of the -diamonds to any one," said Eva hurriedly. - -"Not a word," said Saltars in a low voice, then raised it -gaily--"How are you, Mrs. Palmer? My cousin and I have been -talking"--he looked at Eva inquiringly, his invention failing -him--"About--about----" - -"Chinese metaphysics," said the feminine intellect. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE OTHER WOMAN - - -Lord Saltars spent a very enjoyable evening in the company of two -pretty women. Eva had no chance of further conversation, as Mrs. -Palmer made the most of her noble guest. She sang to him, she -chattered to him, she did all that a lively woman could do to amuse -him. In fact, it seemed to Eva as though the widow was trying to -fascinate his lordship. Saltars, no fool, saw this also. - -"But it won't do," chuckled the guest, as he drove back to Shanton in -a smart dog-cart. "She's a pretty, saucy little woman that widow, and -has money, too, though not enough for me to marry her on. Then Eva's -worth a dozen of her, for looks and breeding. But then she's got no -money, and I can't afford to marry poverty. Of course that forty -thousand pounds might turn up, but on the other hand it might not. -Finally, there's Bell Lorry! Ugh!" his lordship shivered. "I'm not so -gone on her as I was; yet there's something infernally taking about -Bell. She's a fine woman--with a temper. But she's got no money, and -no birth, and precious little character, I should say. I'm not going -to marry her, though she thinks so. But it will be the deuce's own -job to get rid of her." - -Saltars argued this way until he arrived at Shanton. Then he -delivered the reins to his groom at the door of the Queen's Hotel, -where he was stopping, and rang the bell. It was after twelve -o'clock, and a fine starry night. But the chill in the air made -Saltars pull up the collar of his overcoat and grumble. He was -anxious for his bed and a glass of steaming grog. He got the last, -but he was prevented from getting to the first by reason of a -visitor. On ascending to his sitting-room he was met by a sleepy -waiter. - -"Your lordship," said this individual, "there's a lady waiting to see -your lordship in your lordship's room." - -"What, at this hour! It's not respectable." - -"So the landlady told her, your lordship, but she said that she would -do what she liked, and threatened to make a scene. Mrs. Cowper then -thought it would be best to let her stay. She's waiting upstairs--the -lady, I mean, your lordship--and is in a fine rage." - -"It sounds like Bell," thought Saltars, and dismissed the old waiter, -who went back to tell the night-porter he was going to bed. But the -night-porter persuaded him to remain up for a time. - -"There's going to be a row with that wench," said the night-porter; -"she's a circus-rider--Miss Lorry by name, and has a temper of her -own. I think she'll give it to his lordship hot. I wonder Mrs. Cowper -don't object to such goings on." - -So the two men, waiter and night-porter, remained below while -Saltars, fully aware from the description that his visitor was Miss -Lorry, entered the room prepared for a storm. The lady was seated in -a chair near the table, and was drinking champagne which she had -ordered at his expense. She was a fine-looking woman of mature -age, and was expensively dressed in blue silk. Her arms and neck -were bare, and she wore many jewels. As she was of the Junoesque -order of woman, she looked remarkably well. Her cheeks were -flushed, but whether from the champagne or from rage it was -impossible to say. Probably a mixture of both gave her the high -colour she wore, when she looked up to see Saltars enter. - -In spite of this description and of the lateness of the hour, and -of the lady's loud manner, it must not be thought that Miss Lorry -was anything but a thoroughly decent woman--if somewhat of a -Bohemian. She was known as an accomplished rider throughout the -length and breadth of the three kingdoms, and no one had a word to -say against her character. She was certainly fond of wine, but kept -her liking for that within due bounds, as a rule. She was also -kind-hearted, charitable, and generous. Many a man and woman -connected with the circus, and with the sawdust profession as a -whole, had cause to remember Miss Lorry's kind heart. Bohemian as -she was, the woman was really good and true and had many noble -instincts. Saltars might have done worse than marry her, in spite -of her birth, and profession, and years--for she certainly was -older than he was. But Saltars, with his shallow instincts, looked -on the outward beauty of Bell Lorry somewhat coarsened by age and -her hard life. He had not the penetration to see the real, true, -kindly, noble soul she possessed. And then it must be confessed -that Miss Lorry masked her many good qualities by indulging on the -least provocation in royal rages. When blind with passion, she was -capable of anything. - -"Oh," said she, tossing her head, "so you're back!" - -"Just so," replied Saltars, taking off his overcoat and tossing it -on to the sofa. "I didn't expect to find you here--it's after -twelve--really you should not, you know, for your own sake. People -will talk, and the landlady here is no angel." - -Miss Lorry snapped her fingers and drank some wine. "That for the -landlady," she said coolly, "so long as my conscience is clear, I'm -not afraid of what people say. And I couldn't go to bed without -seeing you. The circus leaves for Chelmsford to-morrow." - -"But you needn't go with it," said Saltars, lighting a cigarette. -"I daresay we can have a talk to-morrow before you go?" - -"We must have a talk to-night and an understanding too," snapped -the woman, her eyes blazing. "Look here, Lord Saltars, what do you -mean by going after that girl?" - -"What girl?" asked his lordship, taking a seat. - -"You know well enough. You've been over to Wargrove to dine with that -Mrs. Palmer, and Miss Strode is with her as a companion." - -"You seem to know all about it, Bell." - -"Don't call me Bell. I've never given you permission to call me -by my christian name. I always call you Lord Saltars and not -Herbert. You can't say a word against me." - -"I don't want to, but----" - -"I shan't listen to your remarks," said Miss Lorry in a rage; "you -think because I'm a circus-rider that I've got no pride and no -decency. But I'd have your lordship know that I'm a respectable -woman, and there's no mud can be thrown at me. You asked me to marry -you, and I said I would. Is that so?" - -"Yes, but----" - -"Hold your tongue. If that is so, what right have you to go after that -girl? She's a nice girl and a decent girl, and a lady, which I am not. -All the same, you shan't spoil her life." - -Saltars raised his eyebrows. "I have no intention of spoiling her -life. She's my cousin, if you remember----" - -"Oh, I know. But you're just the sort of man to make love to her, and -break her heart. And as you're engaged to marry me, I shan't have it. -So you look out, Mr. Herbert Delham, or Lord Saltars, or whatever you -call yourself." - -"I wouldn't get in a rage over nothing, if I were you," said Saltars -coolly, "and I shouldn't drink more of that wine either. It only -excites you. Try this," he tossed her a cigarette, "it may calm your -nerves." - -"My nerves are my own to do what I like with. And if you had my -nerves you might talk. It isn't a nervous woman who can ride and -control a savage stallion like White Robin." - -"That horse will kill you some day," said Saltars; "he's got the -temper of a fiend." - -"So have I when roused, so don't you make me angry." - -"You're not very good-tempered now. Try the cigarette." - -"I'll smoke if you hand me one properly and light it for me. I do not -take things thrown to me as if I were a dog." - -Lord Saltars rose and produced another cigarette--the one he threw -was lying on the table. He offered this to Miss Lorry with a bow, -and then gravely lighted a match. In another minute the smoke was -curling from her full lips, and she calmed down. Saltars returned to -his seat and lighted a new roll of tobacco with the stump of his old -cigarette. "How did you know I went to Shanton to-night?" - -"Cain told me. Yes, and he told me about Miss Strode being Mrs. -Palmer's companion. He went to-day to see his mother, with whom Miss -Strode lived. She--the mother, I mean--knew that you were going to -Mrs. Palmer's to-night, as Mrs. Palmer told her." - -"I wonder Mrs. Palmer took the trouble," said Saltars coolly. "My -movements seem to interest her, and this Mrs. Merry and Cain. I'll -break that young man's head if he spies on me." - -"You'll have to reckon with Signor Antonio if you do, and, as he's the -Strong Man of our show, you'll get the worst of it." - -"Great strength doesn't usually mean science. And I think I can put -up my flippers with any man." - -"You're a brute," said Miss Lorry, with an admiring glance at Saltars' -sullen strength, which was what attracted her; "no one would take you -to be a nobleman." - -"As to Signor Antonio," went on Saltars, taking no notice of the -compliment, "he's not an Italian in spite of his dark looks and -broken English. He's a half-bred gipsy mumper, and a blackguard at -that. You seem to know him pretty well, Miss Lorry. I can't say I -admire your choice of acquaintances." - -"I know you," she retorted, "so you're the last person to talk. As -to Antonio, he's been with the show for years, and I'm always -friendly with fellow artistes. He's a brute, as you are: but he -daren't show his teeth to me." - -"He shows them to Cain often enough." - -"He's fond of the boy all the same, and he's the----" here Miss -Lorry checked herself; "well it doesn't matter. I didn't come here -to talk about Antonio. It's getting late, and I want to go to my -room. I'm lodging in the next house." - -"You should have left a message asking me to call." - -"I dare say, and you'd have come, wouldn't you?" - -"But here at this hour your reputation----" - -"Leave my reputation alone," cried Miss Lorry in a rage, "it's -better than yours. I'd like to see any one say a word again me. I'd -have the law of him or her--if you're thinking of that white-faced -cat the landlady. But see here, about Miss Strode----" - -"Don't say anything about Miss Strode. I called, as her cousin. -There's no chance of my marrying her." - -"Mr. Strode said otherwise." - -"You didn't know Strode," said Saltars, starting and looking puzzled. - -"Oh, didn't I though?" jeered Miss Lorry; "well, I just did. Six -years ago I knew him. He came to the circus, behind the scenes, I -mean, to see Signor Antonio. He spotted Antonio performing in the -ring and recognised an old friend. So he called after the -performance and was introduced to me. I knew him again when he came -to the circus when we were near London. He came to see you then." - -"I know he did. Strode called at my digs and found from my man -that I'd gone to the circus. As he wished to see me before he went -to Wargrove, he followed me to the show. But I didn't know you -spoke to him, or even knew him." - -"He came to see me on his own," said Miss Lorry, frowning, "when you -were talking to Stag. We had a conversation, and he said you were -going to marry Miss Strode----" - -"Well, I wasn't engaged to you then." - -"You're not engaged now unless I choose to," said the woman coolly, -"but you were making love to me, and I told Mr. Strode that I had a -claim on you. He lost his temper and said you had promised to marry -his daughter." - -"If I had, I would hardly have proposed to you," said Saltars -diplomatically. - -"Oh, I don't know. You do exactly what suits you. And if Mr. Strode -had lived he might have induced you to throw me over and marry Miss -Strode. But he's dead, whosoever killed him, poor man, and you're -engaged to me. Do you intend to marry me or not?" - -"Well I want to, but there's no money." - -"How do you know there's no money? I've got my savings. Yes, you may -look; but I'm no spendthrift. I have enough invested to bring me in -five hundred a year, and many a year I've worked to get the money -together. We can live on that and with what your father will allow -you." - -"My father won't allow me a penny if I marry you." - -Miss Lorry rose calmly. "Very good. If you're going to take that -line, let us part. I shan't see you again after to-night." - -But Saltars was not going to let her go so easily. He really loved -this woman, while his liking for Eva was only a passing fancy begotten -of her dead father's schemes. Often, when away from Miss Lorry did he -curse himself for a fool, and decide to break his chains, but when in -her presence the magnetism of the woman asserted itself. Her bold, -free, fiery spirit appealed to Saltars greatly: also she was a -splendid horsewoman and could talk wisely about the stables. Saltars -loved horses more than anything in life save this woman, and her -conversation was always within his comprehension. Moreover, during all -the time of their courting she had never allowed him to even kiss her, -always asserting that she was a respectable woman. Consequently as the -fruit was dangling just out of Saltars' reach and only to be obtained -by marriage, he was the more anxious to pluck it. Finally, Bell was -really a magnificent-looking woman in a bold way, and this also -appealed to the susceptible nature of Saltars. - -"Don't go, Bell," he said, catching her dress as she moved to the -door. Whereat she turned on him. - -"Leave me alone, Lord Saltars, and call me Miss Lorry. I won't have -you take liberties. Either you love me and will marry me openly in a -decent church, or we part. I'm not going to have mud thrown on my good -name for you or any one." - -"You know that I love you----" - -"I know nothing of the sort. If you did, you'd not go after your -cousin; not that I've a word to say against her, though she did -treat me like dirt when we spoke at Wargrove." - -"I only went to see my cousin about the money left by her father." - -Miss Lorry turned and leaned against the wall near the door. "There -was no money left," she said sharply. "Mrs. Merry told Cain, and he -told me. The poor girl has to go out as a companion." - -"I know. But there is money. Strode told me that he would give her and -me forty thousand pounds if we married." - -"Very well, then," said Miss Lorry, her eyes flashing; "why don't you -go and marry her? I won't stop you." - -"Because, in the first place, I love you; in the second, she has not -got the money and don't know where it is; and in the third, she is -engaged to a fellow called Hill." - -"Allen Hill?" said Miss Lorry; "yes, I remember him. He told me he -was engaged when we spoke at the gate of the cottage. A nice young -fellow and quite the man. I love a man," said Miss Lorry admiringly, -"and that chap has a man's eye in his head, I can tell you." - -"What about me?" - -"Oh, you're a man right enough, or I shouldn't have taken up with you. -But I say, if Miss Strode's engaged to Hill why doesn't she marry him -now that the father's dead and there's no obstacle?" - -"I don't know why the marriage doesn't take place," said Saltars -pondering, "but I think it is because there's no money." - -"There's the forty thousand pounds." - -"That can't be found, and there's no memorandum amongst the papers of -Strode likely to say where it is. I expect he brought the money home -from Africa in the form of diamonds, and hid them somewhere." - -Miss Lorry changed colour. "Oh," she said thoughtfully, and then went -on rapidly, "If this forty thousand pounds comes to Miss Strode, I -suppose she'd marry Hill." - -"Rather. She seems very fond of him." - -"He's worth being fond of! he's a man I tell you, Saltars. Humph! I -wonder if the money can be found?" - -"There doesn't seem to be much chance." - -"Do you think the money is locked up in diamonds?" - -"It might be. As no money was found, Strode might have brought home -his fortune in that form." - -"I read the papers about the inquest," said Miss Lorry, staring at the -ground; "what about that lawyer?" - -"Mask? Oh, he knows nothing. He said so at the inquest." - -"I wonder if the wooden hand has anything to do with the matter?" - -"Well," said Saltars, rising and yawning, "it was certainly stolen, -so it would seem it had a value. Of course if the hand was sent to -Mask it was to be a sign that he had to give up any money he might -have. It might have been stolen for that purpose." - -"Yes, and the man might have been murdered to obtain possession of -it." - -"I don't think so. If Strode had been murdered on that account, the -hand would have been stolen when the body was lying in the Red Deeps." - -"It was stolen when it lay in the cottage," said Miss Lorry, "I -remember. And Mask said that he had no money of Strode's, so -there's not much use of the hand being sent to him. It's all very -queer." - -"Do you intend to try and unravel the mystery of the death?" - -"Why not? I'd like that girl married to Hill and out of my way. I -don't intend to let her marry you. So good-night," and Miss Lorry -marched off without a word more. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -SIGNOR ANTONIO - - -Cain Merry was a particular pet of Miss Lorry's, and the lad felt -grateful to her for the attention. He admired her exceedingly, and at -one time had fancied himself in love with her. But Miss Lorry, -experienced in admirers, laughed at him the moment she descried the -early symptoms, and told him she was old enough to be his mother. It -was creditable to Cain that he took the hint thus given, and devoted -himself to Jane Wasp, with whom he had been in love ever since they -attended the same board school. And after his passing fancy for Miss -Lorry, the lad's love for the policeman's daughter became even more -marked, much to the joy of Jane, who adored the dark-eyed scamp, and -lost no opportunity of meeting him. - -But Cain was such a Bohemian, that this was no easy matter. Owing to -the nagging of his mother, he stayed away from Misery Castle as much -as he could, and got jobs in the surrounding country and in London. -Also there was some influence at work on Cain's character, which Jane -could not understand: something that made him moody and inclined him -to despair. In her simple way Jane tried to learn what it was, that -she might comfort him, but Cain always baffled her. - -On the morning after Miss Lorry's interview with Saltars, the lad was -more dismal than usual, and was rather listless in his work. As the -circus was packing up to move on to Chelmsford, there was little time -to be lost, and Cain came in for many a hard word. At length the -manager became exasperated at his indolence, and sent him off with a -message to Miss Lorry, who had rooms near the Queen's Hotel. Nothing -loath to be relieved from moving heavy beams, and taking down the -large tent, Cain set off in better spirits. - -On passing through the market place about ten o'clock he saw Jane, -perched on a light market cart, and ran towards her with a bright -face. The girl received him with a joyful cry, and explained that she -had been looking for him for the past hour. - -"Mrs. Whiffles drove me over," she explained, getting down to speak -more freely; "she keeps the Wargrove inn, you know----" - -"Of course I know," said Cain quickly; "I'm Wargrove as well as you, -Jane. But how did your father let you go. I thought he was keeping you -in, to help your mother." - -"Ah, he does that," said Jane with a sigh; "father's a hard one, -Cain, and hates you like poison. You see he's all for the law, -and you----" - -"And I'm a vagabond, as my mother says. Well, Jane, don't you -fret, I'm getting a higher law than that your father serves. I'll -tell you about it some day. How did you come over?" - -"I told you. I came with Mrs. Whiffles. Mother wanted some things -here, and as Mrs. Whiffles was going, she thought I might come too. I -shan't tell father anything, nor will mother. He's out till two, and -we must be back before then. But mother wouldn't have let me come had -she known the circus was here, Cain. She says I'm not to think of you -at all. I'm to go out to service." - -"We may marry before you do that," said Cain quickly; "how did you -know the circus was here?" - -"Mr. Hill's groom Jacobs told me." - -"Oh!" Cain frowned. "You're too thick with that Harry Jacobs." - -"I've known him all my life, Cain." - -"So have I, and I don't like him. He thinks he's every one, because he -wears a smart livery. I wear just as smart a one in the circus." - -"Yes, but the circus ain't decent, Cain. I could never marry you if -you kept on there. I couldn't go about as you do, and if you're to be -my husband I'd like to be near you." - -"You shall be near me, and we'll marry to take service in something -better than a circus," said Cain, his face lighting up. - -"What's that?" - -Cain drew near and was about to speak, when his ear was suddenly -seized by a large dark man, who frowned. "Why aren't you seeing Miss -Lorry, you young scamp?" said the stranger. "I've got to do your -business. Mr. Stag asked you particularly to give that note. Hand it -over." - -"I'll take it now," said Cain, getting free; "leave my ear alone." - -"You give the note to me, Cain. Who is this?" and he looked at Jane. - -"She's a friend of mine from Wargrove," said Cain sulkily; "get back -into the cart, Jane." - -"From Wargrove?" said the dark man with a queer smile; "and her name?" - -"I'm Jane Wasp, sir," said the girl, looking into the man's somewhat -brutal face. - -The man laughed. "Policeman Wasp's daughter, as I'm a sinner. How's -your fool of a father? Catching every one he shouldn't catch, I -suppose? He was always too clever." - -Cain interposed. "Leave her alone fa----, I mean Signor -Antonio," he said, "she's going home." - -Signor Antonio turned on him with a snarl. "Hold your tongue, you -whelp," he said, "I'll talk to whom I like and as long as I like. I -want to know what Policeman Wasp's doing now?" - -"He's looking after the murderer of Mr. Strode," said Jane -politely. - -The man started and laughed. "I hope he'll catch him: but it's a -business rather beyond his powers, I fancy. Stop, you're the girl -who delivered the package to Mr. Hill." - -"To young Mr. Hill," said Jane, climbing into Mrs. Whiffles cart, "not -to the father." - -Signor Antonio turned on the boy with a frown. "I told you it was to -be given to Mr. Hill himself." - -"Well, he got it right enough," said Cain impatiently. "I gave it to -Jane at Colchester, and she took it to Mr. Allen, who gave it to his -father." - -"And what happened?" - -"I don't know," said Jane. "I didn't see Mr. Hill get it." - -"You fool," cried Antonio turning on Cain with another snarl. "I -wanted the girl to report how Hill looked when he opened the -package, and now----" - -"Jane's got nothing to do with this business," said Cain resolutely, -"and I won't have her mixed up in your affairs." - -"Do you know who I am?" demanded the man, black with anger. - -"Yes," replied the boy with a queer look; "you're Signor Antonio." - -Jane thought she would interfere as there seemed to be a chance of a -quarrel. "Mr. Hill went to London after he got the parcel." - -"On the same day?" asked the man eagerly. - -"Yes, sir. Jacobs, who drives him, told me he went within two hours -after he opened the parcel. He's gone up to attend a sale----" - -"Oh," sneered Signor Antonio, "so he's gone to attend a sale? Very -good, that's all right. The parcel was a notice about a sale----" - -"Of musical instruments, I know, sir. Jacobs told me." - -"You speak too much to Jacobs," cried Cain; "remember you're engaged -to marry me, Jane." - -"Stuff and nonsense," said Signor Antonio, who in spite of his Italian -name and looks did not speak his own language; "you'll not marry the -girl." - -"But I shall," said Cain, setting his teeth; "mind your own business." - -"This _is_ my business, you brat----" - -"Jane," said Cain pointing to the hotel, "yonder is Mrs. Whiffles -waving to you. Drive over. I'll send you my address, and you can -write to me. Good-bye, dear." - -He would have climbed on the cart and kissed her, but that the -so-called Italian drew him back. Jane, rather started and puzzled by -the dominion this stranger seemed to exercise over Cain, drove hastily -away to the curb where fat Mrs. Whiffles stood waving her fat arms. -She looked back to see Cain and Antonio in fierce conversation, and -dreaded a quarrel. - -And indeed there would have been a quarrel but for the boy's -self-possession. Cain appeared to have far more command of his -temper than the older man, and spoke quietly enough. "See here," he -said, "I won't have you interfering with my affairs." - -"Do you know who I am?" demanded Antonio again. - -"You asked me that before and in public," said Cain, "and I told you, -you were Signor Antonio. But you know well enough what you are and so -do I." - -"And what am I?" jeered Antonio. - -"You're the man that deserted his wife and child, and your name is -Giles Merry." - -"Yes, it is, and don't you talk of deserting, you brat. I'm your -father, so you look out. I'll thrash you." - -"Oh no, you won't," said Cain boldly, "I'm quite equal to standing up -to you, father. Leave my business alone, I've put up with you ever -since we met a year ago, and I did what you wanted because you -promised me not to go near my mother. I learn that you have written -that you intend to call on her." - -"What if I do? She's my wife as you're my son. She's got a house over -her head, and money, and I've got a right to share both." - -"No, you haven't," said Cain sharply, "you're no father of mine, as -you deserted me and mother when we were poor. Now that we've got -money, you'd come and make mother miserable. I kept my part of the -bargain, so you keep to yours. If you write mother again or go near -her, I'll make things hot." - -Antonio made a dash at the boy--they were now in a quiet side -street--and gasped with rage. "You unnatural young cuckoo----" - -"Leave me alone, father, or I'll sing out for the police." - -"What!" Antonio, finding force would not do, began to whine, "you'd -run in your poor old father?" - -"I don't want to," said Cain, "but if you force me to, I must. All I -ask is for you to keep away from mother, and leave me alone. If you -don't, I'll tell Wasp something he may like to hear." - -The older man turned pale through his swarthy skin. "What will you -tell him?" he asked in a thick voice. - -"Never you mind. But I know you saw Mr. Strode when he came to the -circus that night after Lord Saltars. Then there's Butsey----" - -"What about Butsey?" asked the father uneasily, and glaring. - -"Nothing. Only he's a bad lot. I'm no great shakes myself," -admitted Cain sadly, "but I'm beginning to see how wicked I am. If I -was as bad as Butsey, father, I'd not treat you like this. You sent -Butsey with a lying message to mother----" - -"I wanted to know how she looked." - -"No, you didn't. I believe you sent Butsey to steal that wooden hand." - -"It's a lie. I don't know who took it." - -"I believe Butsey did, though why you wanted it I don't know. And -what is there between you and Mr. Hill, father, seeing you sent him -that cross?" - -"That's my business," growled Antonio, finding his son knew too much -for him; "you hold your tongue." - -"I will, as long as you keep away from my mother." - -"Lord, I'll keep away," said Antonio good-humouredly. "I don't want to -live with her nagging and whimpering. You're her son, sure enough--a -young prig going against your lawful father." - -"Only for my mother's sake. And you want me to do wrong. I'm seeing -light, father, and I'm changing." - -"What do you mean by seeing light? You're always saying that." - -"I've been to the Salvation Army meetings," said Cain solemnly, "and I -see what a sinner I am." - -"Oh, you're going to turn parson, are you? Well, you can do what you -like, but hold your tongue about my business." - -"I'll do so. But tell me, father?" Cain looked anxiously into the -brutal face, "had you anything to do with that murder?" - -Antonio glared and looked like a devil. He made another dash at the -boy, but at that moment three or four men came round the corner, -and amongst them a policeman. At once Antonio burst out into a loud -laugh and took to his broken English. "Ver' goot, my leetle boy, -gif me the letter. I go to Mees Lorry. Ah, Dio!" - -Cain saw that he would not receive a reply to his terrible question -just then, so, glad to get away on the chance of having another talk -with Jane, he escaped. Hardly had he turned the corner when his -father was after him, and a deep voice breathed in his ear: - -"I had nothing to do with that," said Antonio anxiously; "I'm bad, -but not so bad as that. I don't know who killed the man. Go"--a push -sent the boy reeling--"and hold your tongue. I'll keep my part of the -bargain and leave your mother alone. Keep yours," and before Cain -could recover his breath Antonio was ringing the bell of Miss Lorry's -lodgings. - -That lady was just up and at breakfast. Antonio was shown into her -sitting-room, and found her drinking coffee. She saluted him with a -smile. "Well, Giles, what's brought you here at this hour?" - -"This letter from Stag," said Antonio, giving the note he had received -from Cain; "and don't call me Giles, Bell." - -"You seem very much afraid of people knowing you," she jeered, opening -the envelope, and running her eyes over the letter. "Stag wants me to -make another contract for the North." She threw down the note. "Well -then, I won't." - -"What are you going to do, then?" - -"Go to London and marry Lord Saltars." - -"He means business, then?" - -Miss Lorry rose, and looked as though she would slap Antonio's face. -"You hound," she hissed, "do you think I'd let any man play fast and -loose with me. Not a word," she added, seeing a grim smile on the -strong man's face. "I know what you would say. Leave the past alone, -or it will be the worse for you. And see here, what's become of that -boy Butsey?" - -"He's in London at Father Don's." - -"Poor little wretch. Being made into a devil such as you are. Then, -you send for him to come to Chelmsford. I want him to deliver a -letter, and the sooner it's delivered the better." - -"Can't I deliver it?" - -"No, you can't. I can trust Butsey. I can't trust you." - -"Who is the letter to?" - -"That's my business," flashed out Miss Lorry, returning to her -interrupted breakfast; "tell Stag I'll see him about the note at my -own time." - -"But, Bell, if you leave the show, how will you live?" - -"I've got money saved. You need not ask how much," she added, seeing -the cupidity flash into the man's eyes, "for I am not going to tell -you. I leave the show at the end of October, and then I remain in town -till I become Lady Saltars." - -"A nice bargain he'll get with you," growled Antonio. "I know you." - -"As we've been together in the circus for years, you ought to----" - -"I wasn't thinking of the circus, but of----" - -"Hold your tongue," she cried, rising again, "mind your own business." - -"You don't make it worth my while. Suppose I spoil your game with Lord -Saltars?" - -Miss Lorry's face became hard and her eyes glittered. "You dare to -interfere, and I'll send to that policeman at Wargrove to tell him I -saw you at Westhaven speaking to a pair of the biggest blackguards in -London." - -"And what will that do? I've got a right to speak to whom I choose." - -"You can for all I care," said Miss Lorry, sitting down once more, -"your business has nothing to do with me so long as you leave me -alone. Why don't you go home to your poor wife?" - -"My poor wife don't want me. And I wouldn't live with her for gold -untold, seeing how she nags and moans. My wife?" sneered the man -with an ugly look; "you're a nice one to talk of her." - -"I tell you what, Giles Merry," said Miss Lorry, with great -deliberation, "you'd better keep a civil tongue, or you'll have a bad -time. I'll horsewhip you before the company, strong man as you are." - -Antonio scowled. "You wouldn't dare." - -"Wouldn't I? You talk like that and you'll see. You always were a -brute and you always will be. I only hope," added Miss Lorry, -suddenly looking into his eyes, "that you aren't something -worse." - -Antonio met the look with great composure. "Meaning a murderer?" -he said. "Cain asked me if I did kill Strode." - -"And how do I know you didn't?" - -"Because I did not," cried the man, rising and looking fierce. - -"Well," said Miss Lorry, after a pause, "I daresay you didn't. But you -know who did." She looked at him searchingly. - -"I swear by all that's holy, I don't!" - -Miss Lorry laughed disagreeably. "Fancy Giles Merry talking of holy -things. Cain's worth a dozen of you." - -"The young fool! He's going to join the Salvationists!" - -"And a good job too," cried Miss Lorry, with a pleased look, "he may -convert you." - -"Let him try," said the affectionate father, "and I'll smash him." - -"Perhaps you'd rather Cain joined Father Don, and Red Jerry and Foxy. -Oh, I saw you talking to Jerry and Foxy at Westhaven. It's my belief," -added Miss Lorry, crushing her egg-shell, "that those two have -something to do with Strode's end." - -"Why don't you tell the police so?" - -"Because I've got my own fish to fry," retorted Miss Lorry, rising and -wiping her mouth; "but the presence of London thieves at Westhaven -when a gentleman was murdered and robbed, looks queer. If the police -knew they'd collar Jerry and Foxy and Father Don too. I fancy you -would be brought into the matter." - -"Look here," cried Antonio with an oath, "do you charge me, or any of -those three with murder?" - -"No, I don't. I only know that you were Strode's pal in the old days, -and that you did a lot of dirty work for him. You're in with a bad -lot, Giles, and will come to a bad end. I only wish I could rescue -that poor little brat of a Butsey from you, but the boy's past -reforming. I know nothing of him, save that he has an admiration for -me, and ran my errands, so that is why I want him to deliver this -letter. You'll try and learn who the letter is written to, Giles: but -you won't. I can trust Butsey. But why don't you turn honest, man, -and make money?" - -"How can I? Honest men don't make money. And I gain my living honestly -enough as a strong man with Stag." - -"Ah, that's a blind to cloak your real character. You're in with -Father Don's gang. Why not split on them?" Miss Lorry leaned forward -and spoke softly. "For instance, why not call on Mr. Strode's lawyer -and tell him Red Jerry came home from Africa about the same time that -Strode did?" - -"What good would that do?" - -"I can't say. Mask knows something, and I want that something told, so -that Miss Strode may marry Allen Hill, and be put out of my way, for -me to marry Saltars. He admires her, and I want her safely married, -beyond his reach. If you told about Red Jerry, Mask might be able to -get back Miss Strode's fortune." - -"What!"--Giles pricked up his ears--"Fortune?" - -"Forty thousand pounds, Giles, in diamonds, I fancy." - -Antonio sat down. "I never knew Strode was so rich," he said. "Why, -the liar told me at Brentwood that he'd made no money." - -"I don't wonder at that," said Miss Lorry; "he knew you'd blackmail him -if he confessed to having money." - -"I knew enough to make things hot for him," said Giles, biting his -large, square fingers, "but I never knew he was rich. Lord, forty -thousand pounds! If I'd known that----" - -"You'd have killed him to get it." - -"I don't say that," growled Giles, putting on his hat, "and as I didn't -kill him, there's no more to be said. Where's the money now?" - -Miss Lorry looked curiously at him. "You should know!" - -"What the blazes do you mean?" - -"Oh, if you don't know there's no more to be said. As Strode is dead, -you can't get the money now. Your blackmailing is of no value. Miss -Strode will get the diamonds and marry Mr. Allen Hill." - -"Hill?" said Giles thoughtfully; "does he take after that fool of a -father of his?" - -"No; he's a man and not a whimpering ass like Lawrence Hill." - -Giles stood musing at the door. "So Miss Strode will get the -diamonds?" he said; "blest if I don't see her, and----" - -Miss Lorry whirled round. "You leave her alone or I'll make things -unpleasant for you. The poor girl has sorrow enough, and she's a good -girl." - -"Keep your hair on, I'll do nothing--at present," added Antonio -significantly: and with an ironical bow he departed. - -Miss Lorry clutched her breast with a frown. "I'll write that letter -and send it by Butsey," she said determinedly. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -AN UNEXPECTED MEETING - - -Mr. Mask had a dark little office in the city down a long narrow -lane which led from Cheapside. In the building he inhabited were -many offices, mostly those of the legal profession, and Mr. Mask's -rooms were on the ground floor. He had only two. In the outer one -a clerk almost as old as Mr. Mask himself scribbled away in a slow -manner, and showed in clients to the inner room. This was a gloomy -little dungeon with one barred window looking out on to a blank -wall, damp and green with slime. Light was thrown into the room -through this window by means of a silvered glass, so the actual -illumination of the apartment was very small indeed, even in -summer. In winter the gas glared and flared all the day. - -Here Mr. Mask sat like a spider in his den, and the place was so -full of cobwebs that it really suggested spiders in plenty. There -was a rusty grate in which a fire was never lighted, an old -mahogany bookcase filled with uninviting-looking volumes, and a -tin wash-stand which was hidden behind a screen of shabby Indian -workmanship. The walls were piled to the dingy ceiling with black -japanned deed-boxes, with the names of various clients inscribed -on them in white letters. Before the window--and dirty enough the -glass of that was--stood a large mahogany table covered untidily -with papers, deeds, briefs, memoranda, and such-like legal -documents. A small clearing in front was occupied by red blotting -paper, and a large lead ink bottle with a tray of pens. There was -one chair for Mr. Mask and one for a client. Finally, as there was -no carpet on the floor it may be guessed that the office was not an -inviting-looking sanctum. Into this hole--as it might fitly be -termed--Allen was shown one morning. He had not called immediately -on Mr. Mask when he came to town, as he had been searching for his -father for the last five days. But all inquiries proved futile. -Allen went to the hotel at which Mr. Hill usually stayed, but could -not find him there. He had not been stopping in the place for -months. Allen sought the aid of the police, but they could not find -Mr. Hill. Finally he put an advertisement in the paper, which -remained unanswered. Also Allen had called on Mr. Hill's bankers, -but found that he had not been near the place. It was so strange -that Allen was beginning to feel afraid. The message conveyed in the -symbol sent through Cain must be a very serious one, to make his -father cut himself off from those who knew him, in this way. - -As a last resource, Allen came to see Mr. Mask, feeling he should -have done this before. Mask had a large business, but on the face of -it appeared to do very little in the dingy office. But he was a man -who could be trusted with a secret, and many people who knew this -intrusted him with affairs they wished kept quiet. Consequently -Mask's business was sometimes rather shady, but he made a great deal -of money by it, and that was all he cared about. - -A silent, cold man was Mask, and even in his own home at Bloomsbury -he was secretive. Still the man had his good points, and had an -undercurrent of good nature of which he was somewhat ashamed, heaven -only knows why. If he had been as hard as he looked, he certainly -would not have asked Mrs. Palmer to give poor Eva a home. - -"Well, Mr. Allen," said Mask, who called him thus to distinguish -him from his father, whom he had known many years, "so you have -come at last?" Allen, who was placing his hat on the floor, as -there was no table to put it on, started and stared. "Did you -expect me?" - -"Long ago," said Mask, putting his fingers together and leaning back -with crossed legs; "in fact, you should have come to me five days ago. -There was no necessity for you to consult the police as to your -father's whereabouts, or to call at his bank and hotel, or to put that -very injudicious advertisement into the paper." - -"You seem to know all about my doings?" - -"Quite so. I know a great many things. To be frank, Mr. Allen, I have -had you watched by a private detective, ever since you came to town." - -Allen rose in a towering rage. "How dare you do that, Mr. Mask?" - -"I did so at your father's request," said the lawyer, on whom the -young man's rage produced not the least effect. - -"You have seen him?" - -"I have. He came to me when he arrived." - -"Do you know where he is?" - -"I do--but I am not at liberty to tell you." - -"Do you know why he is acting in this way?" - -Mr. Mask's calm face suddenly wrinkled. "No," he said, looking -perplexed, "frankly, Mr. Allen, I don't, and I am glad you have -called. I wish to talk the matter over with you." - -"Why didn't you send for me, then?" - -"Because it is never my wish to take the initiative. People come to -me. I don't go to them. I get a lot of business by waiting, Mr. -Allen. People are only too glad to find a man who can keep a secret; -I have made a fine business out of nothing, simply by holding my -tongue." - -"And do you intend to do so in this instance?" - -Mask shrugged his spare shoulders. "That depends. Johnstone!" - -He raised his voice rather, and the door opened to admit a small -clerk with a large red beard and a bald head, and a face lined with -wrinkles. What his age was no one could tell, and he said as little -as he could, being as secretive as his master. Without a word he -stood at the door, seen dimly in the half light of the office, for -the day was dark. "Johnstone," said Mr. Mask. "I'll be engaged with -this gentleman for some time. Let no one in, till I call again." - -Johnstone bowed and departed without a word, while Mr. Mask went on in -a smooth tone, "I sit in this office from ten in the morning till six -at night. Johnstone comes at nine and leaves at four." - -"Why before you?" asked Allen, wondering why this information was -supplied. - -"Because I like the office to myself to see nervous clients. The -lawyers in the other offices of the building do not stay late, and -frequently I am perfectly alone with clients who wish their business -kept so secret that they don't want even to be seen entering this -place." - -"Are you not afraid?" - -Mr. Mask shrugged his shoulders again. "No. Why should I be?" - -"Some rough client might do you some harm." - -"Oh, I don't think so. Any one who comes here finds it to his -interest to conciliate me, not to threaten. But I confess that I was -rather startled the other night." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I'll come to the story in time. Because I intend to tell it, I drew -your attention to my hours. Well, Mr. Allen," Mask leaned back again, -"and what can I do for you?" - -"Tell me where my father is." - -"I can't do that. I have not your father's permission to do so." - -"How long will he be away?" - -"Until I can induce him to return," said Mask blandly. - -Allen leaned forward, and looked the lawyer in the eyes. "Is my -father afraid of being arrested?" - -Mask started. "No. Why do you say that?" - -"Because--but before I tell you, may I ask his reason for staying -away?" - -Mask looked perplexed again. "I can't exactly tell you," he said. "I -may as well be frank, Mr. Allen, as I don't like the situation. Your -father, whom I have known all his life, came to me over a week ago -in great agitation. He said that he was in danger, but what the -danger was, he refused to confess. I insisted on an explanation, and -he promised to tell me some day. Meantime he wanted to be hidden away -for the time being. I arranged that for him." - -"I don't think that was wise of you, Mr. Mask." - -"My good Allen--I can call you so as I've known you since you were a -lad--there is no reason why I should not help your father. He may -have done something against the law, for all I know, but as he is my -client, it is my duty to help him. He is a good client to me, and I -am not such a fool as to lose him. It is my business to keep secrets, -and here is one I have not found out. But I don't intend to let your -father go away till I _do_ find out," said Mask grimly. "On that -condition I helped him. And after all," added the lawyer, "your -father is quite in his sane senses, and I have no right to dictate to -him, even when he acts in so eccentric a manner." - -"He is always eccentric," said the son wearily; "but this behaviour is -beyond a joke. How is my mother to live?" - -"I can't send her money. Your father will see to that." - -"But why am I shut out from my father's confidence?" - -"I can't say. Remember," said Mask in a slightly irritable tone, "I am -shut out also." - -Allen, much perplexed over the situation which was sufficiently -annoying and mysterious, thought for a moment. "Did my father tell -you of the cardboard box he received?" - -"He did not. He said nothing, save that he wished to hide for a -time, and would reveal his reason later." - -"Then I must tell you everything I know," said Allen in -desperation. "If my father won't trust you, I must. My mother is -in a great state of alarm, and for her sake I must get him to come -back." - -Mr. Mask looked doubtful. "I don't know whether he'll hear reason," he -said, after a pause. "However, what you tell me will go no further." - -"Well then, Mr. Mask, I know why my father is afraid." - -"It's more than I do. Why is he afraid?" - -"Because he thinks he may be arrested for the murder of Strode." - -Mask pushed back his chair and rose quickly. It was not an easy matter -to astonish a man, who, in that very room, had heard tales worthy of -the _Arabian Nights_, but Allen had certainly managed to do so. "Do you -mean to say he killed Strode?" he asked. - -"No. But he thinks he did." - -"How can that be?" - -Allen related the episode of the pistol, and how he found that the -bullet which killed Strode would not fit the barrel. "So you see my -father thought he had killed him, and when this cross was sent----" - -"What cross?" asked Mask, looking up quickly. - -"I forgot. I thought you knew." And Allen related everything in -detail. Mask heard the story with his chin on his hand, and in -silence. Even when in full possession of the facts he did not speak. -Allen grew impatient. "What do you think?" - -Mask moved a few papers hither and thither, but did not look straight -at his visitor. "It's a mystery," he said. "I know not what to say. -But I am perfectly sure of one thing," he added with emphasis, "that -your father never shot Strode----" - -"I said so. The bullet that went through the heart did not fit the -barrel of my revolver." - -"You misunderstand me. I don't even believe that your father fired the -shot which ripped the flesh of the arm. Why, Strode was his best -friend and he was devoted to him." - -"My father to Strode, or Strode to my father?" - -"Both ways you can take it. Why, it was Strode brought about the -marriage between your parents." - -"My mother told me how the marriage came about," said Allen quickly, -"but I understood that my father acted from a chivalrous motive." - -Mask's lip curled. "I fear not," he said, "there were circumstances -connected with your mother----" - -Allen shifted himself uneasily and grew red. "I know--I know," he said -sharply, "my mother told me about the necklace. Surely you did not -believe her guilty, Mr. Mask?" - -"No," said the lawyer emphatically, "I certainly did not. I can't say -who stole the necklace, but it was lost and the thief has never been -found. As to the marriage"--he waved his hand--"Strode brought it -about--at least he told me so. How he managed I can't say, unless it -was that he used his influence over your father." - -"My mother believes----" - -"I know. All the more credit to her. But we can discuss this on some -more fitting occasion. Meantime we must talk of your father. I don't -see why you shouldn't see him," said Mask musingly. - -"Give me his address." - -"Humph," said the lawyer, smiling slightly. "I'll see. But about -this murder? Your father did not kill the man." - -"No," said Allen sharply, "I swear he did not." - -"Quite so. Well, who did, and what was the motive?" - -"Robbery was the motive," said Allen, taking a letter out of his -pocket. "Read this, I received it from Miss Strode." - -Mask took the letter, but did not read it immediately. "I don't -believe the motive was robbery," he declared deliberately; "Strode had -little money. He certainly brought a hundred or so from Africa and I -cashed his letters of credit." - -"Did you give him the money in notes?" - -"Yes; and what is more I have the numbers of the notes. I see what -you mean: you fancy the notes were stolen and that the criminal can -thus be traced." - -"Read the letter," said Allen impatiently. - -The lawyer did so, and thus became possessed of a faithful report of -Saltars' communications to Eva which she had detailed for Allen's -benefit. On ending he placed the letter on the table. "A blue -pocket-book," said Mask musingly. "Yes, he had such a one. I -remember he placed the notes in it. I wonder I didn't ask about that -at the inquest. It's stolen. Humph! Looks like a commonplace robbery -after all. Allen," he raised his eyes, "I gave Strode two hundred in -ten pound Bank of England notes. As I have the numbers, I may be -able to trace how much of this sum has been spent by inquiring at -the Bank. The numbers that are missing will be those that Strode had -in the blue pocket-book when he went on that fatal journey to -Westhaven. If the murderer stole the book and has cashed the notes -he may be traced by the numbers." - -"I agree. But what about the forty thousand pounds?" - -Mask shook his head. "I can't say. Strode certainly never mentioned -to me that he had such a sum." - -"Did he say he had diamonds?" - -"No. Perhaps, as Miss Strode suggests, the forty thousand pounds may -have been locked up in diamonds as a portable way to carry such a sum. -But we found no diamonds amongst his effects, so it is probable he -carried them on his person." - -"And was murdered for the sake of them?" - -"Perhaps. It was strange, though, that Strode should have spoken to me -about his wooden hand. He promised that he would return from Wargrove -to place a large sum of money in my hands--probably the forty thousand -pounds, though he did not mention the amount." - -"I dare say he intended to turn the diamonds into money and then give -it to you." - -"Perhaps," said Mask carelessly, "but we are not yet sure if the -money was in diamonds. However, Strode said, that when he wanted the -promised money, he would get it from me personally, and, if he did -not apply in person, he would send the wooden hand. As he certainly -would not have let the hand be taken from him while alive, it was a -very safe token to send." - -Allen looked down. "It seems as though he was afraid of being -killed," he said musingly; "and he was killed, and the wooden hand -was stolen." - -"Not only that," said Mask, "but it was brought to me." - -"What!" Allen started to his feet, "here! Why didn't you have the -man who brought it arrested?" - -"Because I could not," said Mask drily; "this is why I told you -of my habits. It was after four when Johnstone and every one in -the place was away. In fact, it was nearly six, and when I was -getting ready to go, that this man came." - -"What kind of a man was he?" - -"A venerable old man, who looked like the Wandering Jew, with a -long white beard, and a benevolent face. He asked if he could -speak to me, and we talked. I must remind you that every one in -this building is away at the hour of six." - -"I understand. But what was the old man's name?" - -"He gave none. He simply asked if I had a sum of money in my -possession belonging to Mr. Strode. I said I had not; so he asked -if Mr. Strode had left a packet of diamonds with me." - -"Then there _are_ diamonds!" cried Allen; "and you knew?" - -"Now you mention it, I did know," said Mask coolly; "all in good -time, Allen. I wished to learn how much you knew before I spoke -out. I am a man who keeps secrets, mind you, and I don't say more -than is needful. Well, this old man, when I said that I had no -diamonds, told me in so many words that I was a liar, and -insisted that I should give them up. To test him, I jokingly -asked him if he had the wooden hand, which was to be the token to -deliver the money or diamonds. He then produced the article." - -"Why didn't you arrest him?" - -"Let me remind you that I was alone with the Wandering Jew, and that -he brought two men of whom I caught a glimpse. They remained in the -outer room during our conversation. I asked the old man how he -became possessed of the wooden hand. He refused to tell me, but -insisted that I should hand over the diamonds. I protested that I -had none, and told him what I tell you, as to what Strode said about -giving me money later." - -"What did the old man say then?" - -"He began to believe me, and muttered something about the diamonds -being in Strode's possession. Then he sang out, 'No go, Jerry,' to a -red-headed ruffian outside. After that, he left." - -"You should have followed, Mr. Mask, and have had him arrested." - -"I could scarcely do that," said the lawyer drily, "the old -gentleman was too clever. He went with one man, and left the -red-headed Jerry to keep watch. I had to remain in this room till -seven, or else Jerry threatened to shoot me." - -"He would never have dared." - -"Oh yes, he would, and in this lonely building no one could have -stopped him. Well I agreed, and remained in here doing some work. At -seven I opened the outer door. Jerry had decamped, but where he and -his friends went I can't say?" - -"Have you told the police?" - -"No. I think it is wiser to remain quiet. These men will try again -to get the money through the wooden hand; but they must first learn -who killed Strode, and stole the diamonds--for I now agree with you, -Allen, that the forty thousand pounds are locked up in diamonds. But -now we have talked on this point and it seems clear, let us talk on -another in the presence of a third person." - -"Who?" asked Allen anxiously. - -"Your father," said Mask. "Johnstone!" - -The red-bearded clerk entered, and when within, removed a false beard -and a wig. - -"Father," cried Allen, rising. It was indeed Mr. Hill, pale and -trembling. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MR. HILL'S STORY - - -Allen was so thunderstruck at the sight of his father, who had so -unexpectedly appeared, that he could only stand silently staring. -Mr. Hill gave a nervous titter, and tried to appear at his ease. -But the sight of his pale face and trembling limbs shewed that the -man was possessed by terror. Also he locked the door while Allen -gaped. It was Mask who spoke first. - -"You are surprised to find your father as my clerk," he said -smoothly to Allen; "but when he came to me asking to be concealed, I -arranged that Johnstone should take a much-needed holiday at the -sea-side. I believe he is at Brighton," said Mr. Mask deliberately. -"In the meantime, your father, by means of a clever disguise, -adopted Johnstone's name, and personality, and looks. In the dim -light of the office every one thinks he is Johnstone, and to tell -you the truth," said Mr. Mask, smiling, "my clients are so possessed -by their own fears, that they take very little notice of my clerk." - -Allen scarcely listened to the half of this explanation. "Father," he -cried, "whatever is the meaning of all this?" - -Hill tittered again, and looked about for a seat as his limbs -would hardly support him. As Mr. Mask had one chair, and Allen the -other, it looked as though Hill would have to sink on the floor. But -Allen pushed forward his own chair and made his father sit down. -Then, so white was the man, that he produced his flask, and gave him -a nip of brandy. "I never travel without this," said Allen, alluding -to the flask. "It comes in handy at times," and he spoke this -irrelevantly so as to put Hill at his ease. - -The little man, under the grotesque mask of Johnstone, grew braver -after the brandy, with Dutch courage. "You did not expect to find me -here, Allen?" he said, with his nervous titter. - -"I certainly did not," said his son bitterly; "and I don't know why -you need disguise yourself in this way. I know you did not murder -Strode." - -"But I intended to," cried Hill, suddenly snarling, and showing his -teeth, "the black-hearted villain." - -"I thought Strode was your friend, father?" - -"He was my enemy--he was my evil genius--he was a tyrant who tried -to crush all the spirit out of me. Oh," Hill beat his fist on the -table in impotent rage, "I'm glad he's dead. But I wish he'd died -by torture--I wish he'd been burnt--sliced to atoms. I wish----" - -"Stop," said Mask, seeing Allen turn white and faint, at the sight -of this degrading spectacle, "there's no need to speak like this, -Lawrence. Tell us how you came to be at the Red Deeps." - -"How do you know I was at the Red Deeps?" asked Hill, shivering, and -with the sudden rage dying out of him. - -"Well, you took your son's revolver, and----" - -"You said you didn't believe I fired the shot, Mask," cried the -miserable creature. "I heard you say so, I had my ear to the -keyhole all the time---- - -"Father--father," said Allen, sick with disgust at the sight of his -parent behaving in this way. - -"And why not?" cried Hill, turning fiercely on him. "I am in danger. -Haven't I the right to take all measures I can for my own safety? I -_did_ listen, I tell you, and I overheard all. Had you not proved to -Mask here, that the bullet which caused the death could not have been -fired out of your revolver, I'd not have come in. I should have run -away. But you know I am innocent----" - -"Quite so," said Mask, looking searchingly at the speaker, "therefore -the reason for your disguise is at an end." - -Hill passed his tongue over his dry lips and crouched again. "No, -it isn't," he said faintly, "there's something else." - -"In heaven's name, what is it?" asked Allen. - -"Leave me alone," snarled his father, shrinking back in his chair and -looking apprehensively at his tall, white-faced son, "it's got nothing -to do with you." - -"It has everything to do with me," said his son with calm firmness, -"for my mother's sake I intend to have an explanation." - -"If my wife were here she would never let you treat me in this way, -Allen," whimpered the miserable father. "Sarah"--he did not call his -wife Saccharissa now, the situation being too serious--"Sarah is -always kind to me." - -Allen with folded arms leaned against the bookcase and looked at his -father with deep pity in his eyes. Hill was alternately whimpering and -threatening: at one moment he would show a sort of despairing courage, -and the next would wince like a child fearful of a blow. The young man -never loved his father, who, taken up with himself and his whims, had -done nothing to make the boy love him. He had never respected the man, -and only out of regard for his mother had he refrained from taking -strong measures to curb the pronounced eccentricities of Hill. But the -man, miserable coward as he seemed, was still his father, and it -behoved him to deal with him as gently as possible. In his own mind, -Allen decided that his father's troubles--whatever they were--had -driven him insane. But the sight of that cringing, crawling figure -begot a mixture of pity and loathing--loathing that a human creature -should fall so low, and pity that his own father should suddenly -become a 'thing' instead of a man. - -"I want to be kind to you, father," he said after a pause; "who will -you trust if not your own son?" - -"You were never a son to me," muttered Hill. - -"Was that my fault?" asked Allen strongly. "I would have been a son to -you, if you had let me. But you know, father, how you kept me at -arm's length--you know how you ruled the house according to your -whims and fancies, and scorned both my mother and myself. Often you -have spoken to her in such a manner that it was only the knowledge -that you are my father which made me refrain from interfering. My -mother says she owes much to you----" - -"So she does--so she does." - -"Then why take advantage of her gratitude? She gives everything to -you, father, and you treat her in a way--faugh," Allen swept the air -with his arm, as though to banish the subject. "Let us say no more on -that point. But I have come up here to get to the bottom of this -affair, father, and I don't leave this place till I know all." - -Hill tried to straighten himself. "You forget I am your father," he -said, with an attempt at dignity. - -"No; I do not forget. Because you are my father I wish to help you -out of this trouble, whatever it is. I can save you from being -accused of Strode's murder, but the other thing----" - -"I never said there was anything else," said Hill quickly. - -"Yes, you did, Lawrence," said Mask. "I have taken a note of it." - -"Oh," whimpered Hill, "if you turn against me too---" - -"Neither one of us intend to turn against you," said Allen in deep -disgust, for the man was more like a jelly-fish than ever, and -constantly evaded all attempts to bring him to the point. "For -heaven's sake, father, summon up your manhood and let us know the -worst!" - -"I won't be spoken to in this way," stuttered Hill, growing red. - -Allen made one stride forward, and looked down from his tall height -at the crouching figure in the chair--the figure in its shameful -disguise, with the white face and wild eyes. "You shall be spoken to -in a perfectly quiet way," he said calmly, although inwardly -agitated, "but you shall do what you are told. I have put up with -this state of things long enough. In future, my mother shall govern -the house, and you shall come back to it to indulge in whatever whims -you like within reason. But master you shall not be." - -"Who will prevent me?" said Hill, trying to bluster. - -"I shall," said Allen decisively; "you are not fit to manage your -own affairs or to rule a house. If you come back--as you shall--my -mother, who loves you, will do all she can to make you happy. I -also, as your son, will give you all respect due to a father." - -"You're doing so now, I think," sneered Hill, very white. - -"God help me, what else can I do?" cried Allen, restraining himself -by a violent effort; "if you could see yourself you would know what it -costs me to speak to you like this. But, for your own sake, for my -mother's sake, for my own, I must take the upper hand." - -Hill leaped panting from his seat. "You dare!----" - -"Sit down," said his son imperiously, and pushed him back in his -chair; "yes, I dare, father. As you are not responsible, I shall -deal with you as I think is for your good. I know how to deal with -men," said Allen, looking very tall and very strong, "and so I shall -deal with you." - -"You forget," panted Hill, with dry lips, "I have the money." - -"I forget nothing. I shall have a commission of lunacy taken out -against you and the money matters shall be arranged----" - -"Oh," Hill burst into tears, and turned to the quiet, observant -Mask, "can you sit and hear all this?" - -"I think your son is right, Lawrence." - -"I shall go to law," cried Hill fiercely. - -"Can a man in hiding go to law?" hinted Mask significantly. - -The miserable man sank back in his seat and wept. Sick at heart, -Allen looked at the old lawyer. "You are my father's friend, sir," -he said gently, "try and bring him to reason. As for me, I must walk -for a time in the outer room to recover myself. I can't bear the -sight of those tears. My father--oh, God help me, my father!" and -Allen, unlocking the door, walked into the outer room sick at -heart. He was not a man given to melodrama, but the sight of his -wretched father made him sick and faint. He sat down in the clerk's -chair to recover himself, and leaned his aching head on his hand. - -What passed between Mask and Hill he never knew, but after half an -hour the old lawyer called Allen in. Hill had dried his tears, and -was still sitting hunched up in the chair. But he was calmer, and -took the words which Mask would have spoken out of the lawyer's -mouth. "I am much worried, Allen," said he softly, "so you must -excuse my being somewhat unstrung. If you think it wise, I'll go -back." - -"So far as I know, I do think it wise." - -"Let us hear the story first," said Mask. - -"What story?" asked Allen sharply. - -"My miserable story," said Hill; "I'll tell it all. You may be -able to help me. And I need help," he ended piteously. - -"You shall have all help, father. Tell me why you went to the Red -Deeps and took my revolver." - -Hill did not answer at once. His eyelids drooped, and he looked -cunningly and doubtfully at his son. Apparently he did not trust him -altogether, and was thinking as to what he would say, and what leave -unsaid. The two men did not speak, and after a pause, Hill, now more -composed, began to speak slowly: - -"I have known Strode all my life, and he always treated me badly. As a -boy I lived near his father's place at Wargrove, and my father liked -me to associate with him, as he was of better birth than I. We studied -at the same school and the same college, and, when we went into the -world, Strode's influence introduced me into aristocratic circles. But -my own talents aided me also," said Hill, with open vanity, "I can do -everything and amuse any one. When I stopped at Lord Ipsen's----" - -"My mother told me of that," said Allen with a gesture of repugnance, -"and I don't want to hear the story again." - -"I'm not going to tell it," retorted his father tartly, "my idea was -to explain a popularity you will never attain to, Allen. However, I'll -pass that over. I married your mother, and Strode married Lady Jane -Delham, with whom I also was in love--and I would have made her a much -better husband than Strode," said the little man plaintively. - -"Go on, please," said Mask, glancing at his watch. "There isn't much -time. I have to go out to luncheon." - -"Always thinking of yourself, Mask," sneered Hill, "you always -did, you know. Well, I saw little of Strode for some time. Then I -lent him money and saw less of him than ever. Then he----" - -"You told me all this before," interposed Allen, who began to think -his father was merely playing with him. - -"I'll come to the point presently," said Hill with great dignity; -"let me say, Allen, that although I hated Strode, and had good cause -too--yes, very good cause--I liked Eva. When you wished to marry -her, I was pleased. She wrote to her father about the marriage. He -sent her a cablegram saying he was coming home----" - -"And when he did arrive at Southampton he told her she was not to -think of the marriage." - -"He told me also," said Hill, "and long before. He wrote from the Cape -telling me he would not allow you to marry Eva." - -"Allow me!" said Allen indignantly. - -"Yes, and told me I was to stop the marriage. I wrote, and urged the -advisability of the match. When Strode reached Southampton, he wrote -again saying he intended Eva to marry Lord Saltars---" - -"Did he make any mention of money?" - -"No. He simply said that if I did not stop the marriage he would -disgrace me," here Hill changed colour, and looked furtively at both -his listeners. - -"How disgrace you?" asked Mask sharply. - -"I shan't tell you that," was the dogged reply, "all you need know -is, that Strode could disgrace me. I--I--made a mistake when I was -a young man," said Hill, casting down his eyes, so as not to meet -the honest gaze of his son, "and Strode took advantage of it. He -made me sign a document confessing what I had done----" - -"And what in heaven's name had you done?" questioned Allen, much -troubled. - -"That's my business. I shan't say--it has nothing to do with you," -said Hill hurriedly, "but Strode had the document and always carried -it about with him. I wanted to get it and destroy it, so I asked him -when he came to Wargrove to meet me at the Red Deeps, and then I -would tell him how the marriage with you could be prevented. I also -said that I knew something about Lord Saltars----" - -"What is that?" - -"Nothing," said Hill, this time frankly. "I really knew nothing, but I -wanted Strode to come to the Red Deeps. He made an appointment to meet -me there on Wednesday at nine." - -"In that case, why did he wire to Eva he would be down on Thursday?" - -"Because he wanted to come down quietly to see me. And," added Hill -hesitating, "he had to see some one else. I don't know who, but he -hinted that he had to see some one." - -"When you spoke to him at the Red Deeps?" - -"Yes. I went there on Wednesday and he was waiting. It was getting -dark, but we saw plainly enough. I urged him to give up the -document. He refused, and told me that he required more money. I -grew angry and left him." - -"Alive?" - -"Yes. But I had your revolver with me, Allen. I took it with the -idea of shooting Strode, if he didn't give up the document----" - -"Oh," cried Allen, shrinking back. It seemed horrible to hear his -father talk like this. "But you didn't----" - -"No. I got behind a bush and fired. My shot touched his arm, for -he clapped his hand to the wound. Then he turned with a volley of -abuse to run after me. At that moment there came another shot from a -clump of trees near me, and Strode fell face downward. I was so afraid -at the idea of any one having been near me, and of having overheard -our conversation----" - -"And of seeing your attempt at murder," interpolated Mask. - -"Yes--yes--that I dropped Allen's revolver and ran away." - -"I found the revolver and took it home," said Allen; "so the way -you acted the next morning when Wasp came was----" - -"It was the morning after that," said his father drily, "on -Friday, and Strode was shot on Wednesday. I never went near the -Red Deeps again. I didn't know if Strode was dead, but I knew -that he had been shot. I steeled myself to bear the worst, but -did not make any inquiries out of policy. When Wasp came that -morning at breakfast, I knew what he had to say. Strode was dead. -I dreaded lest Wasp should say that the revolver had been found, -in which case you might have got into trouble, Allen: but I was -thankful nothing was said of it." - -The young man was astounded at this cool speech: but he passed it -over, as it was useless to be angry with such a man. "I picked up -the revolver as I said," he replied; "but about the document?" - -"I hadn't time to get it. The shot frightened me." - -"Did you see who fired the shot?" - -"No. I was too afraid. I simply ran away and never looked back." - -At this point Mask held up his hand. "I hear some one in the outer -office," he said, and rose to open the door. Hill slipped behind -the table quivering with fear. However, Mask returned to his seat. -"I am wrong," he said, "there's no one there. Go on." - -"What else do you want to know?" questioned Hill irritably. - -"Why you fainted and left the house, when you got that cross from -Giles Merry?" - -Hill stared. "You knew it was Giles?" he stammered; "what do you know -of Giles?" - -"Nothing. But Mrs. Merry recognised the direction on the brown -paper as being in her husband's writing. Why did you faint?" - -Hill looked down and then looked up defiantly. He was still -standing behind the desk. "I stole the wooden hand!" - -"What!" cried Mask and Allen, both rising. - -"Yes. I had my reasons for doing so. I took it from the body, when -I was in the death-chamber. I had it in my pocket when I saw you -and Eva, and said it was stolen. And then," went on Mr. Hill very -fast, so that Allen should not give expression to the horror which -was on his face, "I took it home. But I feared lest my wife should -find it and then I would get into trouble. Sarah was always looking -into my private affairs," he whined, "so to stop that, I went and -buried the hand on the common. Some one must have watched me, for I -put that cross to mark the spot. When I opened the parcel and saw -the cross I knew some one must have dug up the wooden hand and that -my secret----" - -"What has the wooden hand to do with your secret?" - -Hill shuffled, but did not reply to the question. "It was Giles's -writing. I knew he'd got the wooden hand, and my secret--Hark!" -There was certainly the sound of retreating footsteps in the other -room. Allen flung open the door, while his father cowered behind the -desk. The outer door was closing. Allen leaped for it: but the -person had turned the key in the lock. They heard a laugh, and then -retreating footsteps. Mask, who had followed Allen, saw something -white on the floor. He picked it up. It was a letter addressed to -Sebastian Mask. Opening this he returned to the inner office. "Let -us look at this first," said Mask, and recalled Allen: then he read -what was in the envelope. It consisted of one line. "Open the wooden -hand," said the mysterious epistle. - -"No," shrieked Hill, dropping on his knees; "my secret will be found -out!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A FRIEND IN NEED - - -Allen was stopping in quiet rooms near Woburn Square, which was -cheaper than boarding at a hotel. He was none too well off, as his -father allowed him nothing. Still, Allen had made sufficient money -to live fairly comfortable, and had not spent much, since his -arrival in England, owing to his residence at "The Arabian Nights." - -It had been Allen's intention to escort his father back to Wargrove, -whither Hill consented to go. But, on explaining to Mask his desire -to trace out Butsey by using the address of the Fresh Air People in -Whitechapel, Mask had agreed to take the old man home himself. He -thought that it was just as well Allen should find the boy, who might -know much. - -"He didn't steal the wooden hand," said Mask, when he parted from -Allen, "but he is evidently in with the gang." - -"What gang, Mr. Mask?" - -"That headed by the old gentleman who called on me. Jerry is one of -the gang, and this boy Butsey another. He sent that telegram, -remember. If you can find the lad you may learn much, and perhaps may -get back the hand." - -"But what good will that do?" asked Allen, puzzled; "from what my -father said when you read the anonymous letter, he evidently knew that -the hand can be opened. If, as he says, it contains his secret, he -must have opened it himself when he took it home, and before he buried -it." - -Mask wrinkled his brows and shook his head. "I confess that I -cannot understand," he remarked hopelessly, "nor will I, until -your father is more frank with me. This is one reason why I am -taking him myself to Wargrove. When I get him there I may induce -him to tell me his secret." - -"It must be a very serious secret to make him behave as he does." - -Mask sighed. "I repeat that I can't understand. I have known your -father all his life. We were boys together, and I also knew Strode. -But although your father was always foolish, I can't think that he -would do anything likely to bring him within reach of the law." - -"He stole the wooden hand, at all events," said Allen grimly. - -"Out of sheer terror, I believe, and that makes me think that his -secret, for the preservation of which he robbed the dead, is more -serious than we think. However I'll see what I can learn, and failing -your father, I shall ask Giles Merry." - -"Do you think he knows?" - -"I fancy so. The parcel with the cross was addressed in his writing, -so it is he who has the hand. He must have given it to the old -scoundrel who called on me, so I think, Mr. Allen, we are justified -in adding Merry to the gang." - -"But the hand must have been empty when my father buried it on the -common, so how could Giles know his secret?" - -"I can only say that I don't understand," said Mask with a gesture -of hopelessness; "wait till I get your father to speak out. Then we -may learn the truth." - -"I dread to hear it," said the son gloomily. - -"Well," replied Mask in a comforting tone, "at all events we know -it has nothing to do with this murder. It is your task to learn -who committed that, and you may do so through Butsey." - -After this conversation Mr. Mask took Hill back to Wargrove, -whither the old man went willingly enough. He seemed to think -himself absolutely safe, when in the company of his legal adviser -and old friend. Allen returned to his rooms, and sent a message to -Mr. Horace Parkins that he would see him that afternoon. It was -necessary that he should keep faith with his friend Mark Parkins in -South America, and find a capitalist; and Allen thought that -Horace, whom Mark reported shrewd, might know of some South African -millionaire likely to float the mine in Bolivia. As to the search -after Butsey, Allen had not quite made up his mind. He could learn -of Butsey's whereabouts certainly, but if it was some low den where -the lad lived, he did not want to go alone, and thought it might be -necessary to enlist the service of a detective. For his father's -sake, Allen did not wish to do so. But he must have some one to go -with him into the depths of London slums, that was certain. Allen -knew the life of the Naked Lands, and there could more than hold -his own, but he was ignorant of the more terrible life of the -submerged tenth's dens. - -It was at three o'clock that Allen appointed the meeting with -Parkins, and at that hour precisely a cab drove up. In a few -minutes Parkins was shown in by the landlady, and proved to be a -giant of over six feet, lean, bright-eyed, and speaking with a -decided American accent. He was smartly dressed in a Bond Street -kit, but looked rather out of place in a frock-coat and silk hat -and patent leather boots. - -"Well, I'm glad to see you," said the giant, shaking hands with a -grip which made Allen wince--and he was no weakling. "Mark's been -firing in letters about what a good sort you are, and I was just -crazy to meet you. It isn't easy finding a pal in this rotten -planet of ours, Mr. Hill, but I guess from what Mark says, you fill -the bill, so far as he's concerned, and I hope you'll cotton on to -me, for I'm dog-sick with loneliness in this old city." - -Allen laughed at this long speech and placed a chair for his -visitor. "You'd like a drink, I know," he said, ringing the bell. - -"Milk only," said Parkins, hitching up the knees of his trousers, -and casting his mighty bulk into the deep chair; "I don't hold with -wine, or whisky, or tea, or coffee, or anything of that sort. My -nerves are my own, I guess, and all I've got to hang on to, for -the making of bargains. I'm not going to play Sally-in-our-Alley -with them. No, sir, I guess not. Give me the cow's brew." - -So a glass of milk was brought, and Mr. Parkins was made happy. -"I suppose you don't smoke, then?" said Allen, amused. - -"You bet--a pipe." He produced a short clay and filled it. "I'm of -the opinion of that old chap in _Westward Ho_, if you know the -book?" - -"I haven't read it for years." - -"Y'ought to. I read it every year, same as I do my Bible. Had I my -way, sir," he emphasised with his pipe, "I'd give every English boy -a copy of that glorious book to show him what a man should be." - -"You're English, I believe, Mr. Parkins?" - -"Born, but not bred so. Fact is, my mother and father didn't go -well in double harness, so mother stopped at home with Mark, and -I lighted out Westward-ho with father. You'd never take me for -Mark's brother?" - -"I should think not. You're a big man and he's small: you talk -with a Yankee accent, and he speaks pure English. He's----" - -"Different to me in every way. That's a fact. I'm a naturalised -citizen of the U.S.A. and Mark's a Britisher. We've met only once, -twice, and again, Mr. Hill, but get on very well. There's only two -of us alive of the Parkins gang, so I guess we'd best be friendly, -till we marry and rear the next generation. I'm going to hitch up -with an English girl, and Mark--if I can persuade him--will marry -an American dollar heiress. Yes, sir, we'll square accounts with -the motherland that way." - -All the time Parkins talked, he pulled at his pipe, and enveloped -himself in a cloud of smoke. But his keen blue eyes were constantly -on Allen's face, and finally he stretched out a huge hand. "I guess -I've taken to you, some," said he, "catch on, and we'll be friends." - -"Oh," said Allen, grasping the hand, "I'm sure we shall. I like -Mark." - -"Well then, just you like the American side of him, which is -Horace Parkins. I guess we'll drop the misters and get to -business, Hill." - -"I'm ready. What do you want to see me about?" - -"Well, Mark wrote to me as you'd got a mine of sorts, and wanted a -capitalist. I'm not a millionaire, but I can shell out a few dollars, -if y'think you can get the property cheap." - -"Oh, I think so. The Spaniard that owns it wants money and isn't very -sure of its value." - -"Tell me about that right along." - -Whereupon Hill detailed the story of the Indian and how the mine had -been worked by the Inca kings. He described the locality and the -chances of getting the silver to the coast: also spoke of the labour -required and the number of shares he and Mark intended to divide the -mine into. Horace listened, nodding gravely. - -"I see you've figured it out all right, Hill," said Parkins, "and I -guess I'll take a hand in the game. Give me a share and I'll engineer -the buying." - -"Good," said Allan, delighted, "we'll divide the mine into three equal -shares. You buy it, and Mark and I will work it." - -"Good enough. We won't want any one else to chip in. It's a deal." - -They shook hands on this, and then had a long talk about the West -Indies, which Horace, who had never been there, knew chiefly through -the glowing pages of _Westward Ho_. "Though I guess the place has -changed since then," said he, "but the gold and silver's there right -enough, and maybe, if we looked long enough, we'd chance on that -golden Manoa Kingsley talks about." - -The talk drifted into more immediate topics, and Allen, much amused at -his gigantic companion's naive ways of looking at things, asked him -about his life. Thereupon Horace launched out into a wild tale of -doings in Africa. He had been all through the war and had fought -therein. He had been up the Shire River, and all over the lion -country. He made money and lost it, so he said, and finally -managed to find a fortune. It was five o'clock before he ended, -and later he made a remark which made Allen jump: "So I just -thought when I got Mark's letter telling me you were in the old -country and about the mine, that I'd come home and see what kind -of man you were. I'm satisfied--oh yes, you bet. I'll trust you to -the death, for I size up folk uncommon quick, and you?" - -"I'll trust you also," said Allen, looking at the man's clear -eyes and responding to his true-hearted grip, "and in fact I -need a friend now, Mr. Parkins." - -"Call me Parkins, plain, without the Mister. Well, here I am, ready -to be your pal, while Mark's over the herring-pond. What's up? Do -you want me to cut a throat? Just say the word, and I'll do it. -Anything for a change, for I'm dead sick of this place ever since I -left the _Dunoon Castle_." - -It was this speech which made Allen jump. "What, did you come home -in the _Dunoon Castle?_" - -"You bet I did, and a fine passage we had." - -"Did you know a passenger called Strode?" - -Parkins raised his immense bulk slightly, and looked sharply at -the questioner. "Do you mean the man who was murdered?" - -"Yes. I suppose you read about the crime in the papers?" - -"That's so. Yes, I knew him very well. Better than any one on -board, I guess. We got along finely. Not a man I trusted," added -Parkins musingly, "but a clever sort of chap. Well?" - -"Did he ever tell you of his daughter?" - -"No. He never spoke of his private relations." - -"Well, he has a daughter, Miss Eva Strode. You must have read her name -in the papers when the case was reported." - -"I did," said Parkins after a pause; "yes?" - -"I'm engaged to her." - -Parkins rose and looked astonished. "That's a queer start." - -"You'll hear of something queerer if you will answer my questions." - -"What sort of questions?" - -Allen debated within himself if he should trust Parkins all in all. -It seemed a rash thing to do, and yet there was something about the -man which showed that he would not break faith. Horace was just the -sort of companion Allen needed to search after Butsey in the slums -of Whitechapel. It was no good telling him anything, unless all were -told, and yet Allen hesitated to bring in the name of his father. -Finally he resolved to say as little as he could about him, and -merely detail the broad facts of the murder, and of the theft of the -hand, without mentioning names. "Parkins," he said frankly and with -a keen look, "can I trust you?" - -"I guess so," said the big man serenely. "I mean what I say. You -can take my word without oaths, I reckon." - -"Very well, then," said Allen with a sudden impulse to make a clean -breast of it; "sit down again and answer a few questions." - -Horace dropped down heavily and loaded his pipe. While he was -lighting up, he listened to Allen's questions. But Allen did not -begin before he had explained the purpose of his inquiries. - -"I am engaged to Miss Strode," said Allen, "but she refuses to marry -me until I learn who killed her father." - -"Very right and just," nodded Parkins. - -"Well, I'm trying to hunt out the criminal, and I should like you to -help me." - -"I'm with you right along, Hill. Fire away with your questions." - -Allen began: "Did Mr. Strode ever tell you he had money?" - -"Yes. He made a lot in South Africa and not in the most -respectable way. I don't like talking ill of the dead, and of -the father of the girl you're going to make Mrs. Hill, but if I -am to be truthful----" - -"I want you to be, at all costs. The issues are too great for anything -false to be spoken." - -"Well then, I heard a lot about Strode in Africa before we steamed -together in the _Dunoon Castle_. He made his money in shady ways." - -"Humph!" said Allen, "I'm not surprised, from what I've heard." - -"He was an I. D. B. if you want to get to facts." - -"What's that?" demanded Allen. - -"An illicit diamond buyer." - -"Can you explain?" - -"I guess so. Strode bought diamonds from any one who had them. If a -Kaffir stole a jewel, and many of them do steal, you bet, Strode -would buy it from him at a small price. He was on this lay for a -long time, but was never caught. And yet I don't know," said -Parkins half to himself, "that brute Jerry Train knew something of -his doings!" - -Allen almost leaped from his seat. "Jerry! was he a big red-headed -man--a ruffian?" - -"He was a bad lot all through--a horse-thief and I don't know what -else in the way of crime. He made South Africa too hot for him, -and came home steerage in the _Dunoon Castle_. I saw him at times, -as I knew a heap about him, and he thieved from a pal of mine up -Bulawayo way. He seemed to suspect Strode of yanking diamonds out -of the country." - -"Did Strode tell you he possessed diamonds?" - -"No. He said he'd made money to the extent of forty thousand -pounds." - -"Did he carry the money with him?" - -Parkins shook his head. "I can't say. I should think he'd have -letters of credit. He'd a pocket-book he was always dipping into, -and talked of his money a lot." - -"A blue pocket-book with a crest?" - -"That's so. Do you know it?" - -"No. But that pocket-book was stolen from the body. At least it -was not found, so it must have been stolen." - -"Oh, and I guess Strode was murdered for the sake of the -pocket-book. But see here," said Horace shrewdly, "I've told you a -heap. Now, you cut along and reel out a yarn to me." - -The other man needed no second invitation. He laid aside his -pipe and told the story of the crime, suppressing only the -doings of his father. Horace listened and nodded at intervals. - -"I don't see clear after all," he said when Allen ended, "sure you've -told me everything?" - -The young man looked uneasy. "I've told you what I could." - -Parkins rose and stretched out his hand. "What you've told me will -never be repeated. Good-bye." - -"What for?" asked Allen, also rising. - -"Because you won't trust me. I can't straighten out this business, -unless you do." - -"The other thing I might tell isn't my own." - -"No go. If it concerns the murder it must be told. I don't work half -knowledge with any one. You can trust me." - -Allen hesitated. He wanted to tell all, for he felt sure that -Parkins would help him. But then it seemed terrible to reveal his -father's shame to a stranger. What was he to do? - -"See here, I'll tell--you everything, suppressing names." - -"Won't do," said the inflexible Parkins; "good-bye." - -"Will you give me a few hours to think over the matter?" - -"No. If I'm not to be trusted now, I'm not to be trusted at all." - -The young man bit his fingers. He couldn't let Parkins go, for he -knew about Strode and Red Jerry, and might aid the case a lot. It was -imperative that the truth should be discovered, else it might be that -his father would be put to open shame. Better, Allen thought, to tell -Parkins and get his aid, than risk the arrest of his father and see -the whole story in the papers. "I'll tell all," he said. - -"Good man," growled Parkins, his brow clearing. - -When in possession of all the facts, Parkins thought for a moment -and delivered his opinion: "Strode I take it was followed to the Red -Deeps by Jerry Train, and Jerry shot him and stole the pocket-book." - -"But the wooden hand?" - -"Merry's got it and he's in the gang. Hold on," said Parkins, "I'll -not give a straight opinion till I see this boy. We'll go down and -hunt him up. He'll give the show away." - -"But my father?" asked Allen, downcast. - -"He's a crank. I don't believe he mixed up in the biznai at all." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE FINDING OF BUTSEY - - -It did not take Allen long to learn something about Butsey. An -inquiry at the offices of the philanthropic people, who dealt with -the transfer of ragged boys to the country for fresh air, brought out -the fact that Butsey was a thief, and a sparrow of the gutter, who -lived in a certain Whitechapel den--address given--with a set of the -greatest ruffians in London. - -"It was a mere accident the boy came here," said the spectacled -gentleman who supplied the information; "we were sending out a number -of ragged children to Westhaven for a couple of days, and this boy -came and asked if he could go too. At first, we were not inclined to -accept him, as we knew nothing about him. But the boy is so clever -and amusing, that we consented he should go. He went with the rest to -Westhaven, but did not keep with those who looked after the poor -creatures. In fact, Mr. Hill," said the gentleman frankly, "Butsey -took French leave." - -"Where did he go?" - -"I can't tell you. But one of our men caught sight of Father Don, and -Red Jerry, at Westhaven--those are the ruffians Butsey lives with. He -might have gone with them." - -"Did you take the children down on a Wednesday?" - -"Yes. And then they came back, late the next day." - -Allen reflected that if Butsey sent the wire before four o'clock, he -must have gone back to London, and wondered where he got the money -for the fare. Then he must have come down again, in order to give the -lying message to Mrs. Merry. However, he told the philanthropist -nothing of this, but thanked him for his information. "I intend to -look this boy up," he said, when taking his leave. - -"Has he got into trouble?" asked the gentleman anxiously. - -"Well, not exactly. But I want to learn something from him relative to -a matter about which it is not necessary to be too precise. I assure -you, sir, Butsey will not come to harm." - -"He has come to harm enough already, poor lad." I tell you, Mr. -Hill, "that I should like to drag that boy out of the gutter, and -make him a decent member of society. He is sharp beyond his years, -but his talents are utilised in the wrong way----" - -"By Father Don, Red Jerry, and Co.," said Allen drily; "so I think." - -"One moment, Mr. Hill; if you go to the Perry Street den, take a plain -clothes policeman with you. Father Don is dangerous." - -"Oh, I'll see to that," said Allen, confident in his own muscles and -in those of Parkins. "You couldn't get Butsey to come here?" - -"I fear not--I sadly fear not, Mr. Hill. The boy has never been near -us since he came back with the children from Westhaven." - -"He did come back with them, then?" - -"Oh yes," said the philanthropist frankly, by the late train; "but -what he did in the meantime, and where he went, I can't say. He -refused to give an account of himself." - -"Shrewd little devil," said Allen; "but I think I know." - -"I trust it has nothing to do with the police," said the gentleman -anxiously; "a detective asked after Butsey. I gave him the address -of Father Don in Perry Street, but the lad could not be found. The -detective refused to say why the lad was wanted, and I hope he'll -not come to harm. If you find him, bring him to me, and I'll see -what I can do to save him. It's a terrible thing to think that an -immortal soul and a clever lad should remain in the depths." - -Allen assented politely, promised to do what he could towards -bringing about the reformation of Butsey, and went his way. He -privately thought that to make Butsey a decent member of society -would be next door to impossible, for the lad seemed to be quite a -criminal, and education might only make him the more dangerous to -the well-being of the community. However he reserved his opinion -on this point, and got back to his Woburn rooms to explain to -Horace. The big American--for he virtually was a Yankee--nodded -gravely. - -"We'll go down this very night," he said. "I guess we'd best put on -old togs, leave our valuables at home, and carry six-shooters." - -"Do you think that last is necessary?" asked Allen anxiously. - -"It's just as well to be on the safe side, Hill. If this boy is -employed by Father Don and his gang, he won't be let go without a -fight. Maybe he knows too much for the safety of the gang." - -"That's very probable," assented Hill drily; "however, we'll take -all precautions, and go to Perry Street." - -"This is what I call enjoyment," said Horace, stretching his long -limbs. "I'm not a quarrelsome man, but, by Gosh, I'm just spoiling -for a fight." - -"I think there's every chance we'll get what you want, Parkins." - -So the matter was arranged, and after dinner the two men changed -into shabby clothes. It was raining heavily, and they put on -overcoats, scarves, and wore slouch hats. Both carried revolvers, and -thus they felt ready for any emergency. As Allen knew London -comparatively well, he took the lead, and conducted Horace to -Aldgate Station by the underground railway. Here they picked up a cab -and went to Whitechapel. The driver knew Perry Street but refused -to go near it, on the plea that it was a dangerous locality. However, -he deposited the two near the place, and drove away in the rain, -leaving Allen and Horace in a somewhat dark street. A search for a -guide produced a ragged boy of the Butsey type, who volunteered to -show the way to Father Don's den. "You've got some swag to send up -the spout, gents both?" leered the brat, looking up to the big men -as they stood under a lamp-post. - -"Just so," said Horace quickly, thinking this a good excuse; "you -engineer us along, sonny, and we'll give you a shilling." - -"A bob?--that's good enough," said the urchin, and scampered down a -back street so quickly that they had some difficulty in keeping up -with him. Later on, when they caught him at the end of a -_cul-de-sac_, Allen gripped the guide by his wet shoulder. "Do you know -a boy called Butsey?" - -"Oh my eyes and ears, don't I just? Why, he's Father Don's pet. But -he's in disgrace now." - -"Why?" asked Horace coolly. - -"Father Don sent him down the country, and he didn't turn up at the -hour he was told to. He's been whacked and put on bread and water," -said the brat, grinning, "worse luck for Father Don. Butsey'll put a -knife into him for that." - -"Good," whispered Allen to the American as they went on in the -darkness. "Butsey will have a grudge against Father Don, and will be -all the more ready to tell." - -"Humph! I'm not so sure. There's honour amongst thieves." - -They had no further time for conversation, for the guide turned down a -narrow lane leading off the _cul-de-sac_, and knocked at the door of a -ruined house with broken windows. A shrill voice inside asked who was -there. - -"Swell mobsmen with swag for the patrico," said the guide, whistling -shrilly. "Show us a light." - -The door opened, and a small pinched-looking girl appeared with a -candle. She examined the two men and then admitted them. When they -ventured within, she shut the door, which seemed to be very strong. -But Horace noticed a door on the left of the passage leading into an -empty room. He knew that one of the broken windows set in the street -wall gave light to this room, and resolved to make it a line of -retreat should they be too hardly pressed. Meantime the boy and girl -led the way along the passage and towards a trap-door. Here, steps -leading downward brought them to a large cellar filled with ragged -people of both sexes. There was a fire in a large chimney, which -seemed to have been constructed to roast an ox, and round this they -sat, their damp garments steaming in the heat. A curtain portioned off -a corner of the cellar, and when the strangers entered two shrill -voices were heard talking together angrily. But the thieves around -paid no attention. - -"Red Jerry," said Horace, touching Allen's arm, and he pointed to a -truculent-looking ruffian, almost as big as himself, who was lying on -a bed composed of old newspapers and day-bills. He seemed to be -drunk, for he breathed heavily and his pipe had fallen from his -fevered lips. "Nice man to tackle," muttered Horace. - -"Come along," said the guide, tugging at Allen's hand. "Father Don's -got some one in there, but he'll see you. What's the swag--silver?" - -"Never you mind," said Horace; "you find Butsey and I'll make it worth -your while." - -"Give us a sov. and I'll do it," said the brat. "I'm Billy, and fly at -that." - -"Good. A sov. you shall have." - -The boy whistled again and some of the thieves cursed him. He then -pushed Horace towards the ragged curtain behind which the shrill voices -sounded, and vanished. The two were now fully committed to the adventure. - -Curiously enough, the ruffians in the cellar did not take much notice -of the strangers. Perhaps they were afraid of Father Don, seeing that -the two came to dispose of swag, and at all events they apparently -thought that Father Don could protect himself. Meanwhile the keen ears -of Horace heard a deeper voice, something like a man's, mingling with -the shrill ones of the other speakers. Without a moment's hesitation, -and anxious to get the business over, the big American dragged aside -the curtain and entered. - -Allen and he found themselves before a narrow door. On entering this, -for it was open, they saw an old man with a white beard sitting at a -small table with papers before him. Near, was a small sharp-faced man, -and at the end of the table sat a woman dressed in black. - -"It won't do, Father Don," the woman was saying in deep tones; "you -told that brat to rob me. Give it up, I tell you." - -"Give up what?" asked Father Don sharply. "How can I give up anything, -when I don't know what it is?" - -"Butsey knows," said the woman. "Where is he?" - -"On bread and water in the attic," said the small man with a shrill -laugh; "he's having his pride brought down." - -"You'd better take care of Butsey," said the woman drily, "or he'll -sell you." - -"Let him try," snarled the benevolent-looking old gentleman. "Red -Jerry's his father and will break his back." - -This much the two gentlemen heard, and it was then that the American -appeared in the narrow doorway. The woman started and looked at him. -He eyed her in turn and saw a fine-looking creature with dark eyes, -and of a full voluptuous beauty hardly concealed by the plain dark -robes she wore. Allen glanced over Parkins's shoulder and uttered an -ejaculation. "Why, Miss Lorry," he said. - -The woman started and rose quickly, overturning the table. The small -lamp on it, fell and went out. There were a few curses from Father -Don and a shrill expostulation from the small man. In the hot -darkness a dress brushed past the two men who were now in the room, -and a strong perfume saluted their nostrils. Horace could have -stopped Miss Lorry from going, but he had no reason to do so, and she -slipped out while Father Don was groping for the lamp, and the other -man struck a match. As the blue flare spurted up, the man saw the two -who had entered. "What's this?" he cried with an oath, which it is not -necessary to set down; "who are you?" - -"We've come about business," said Horace; "don't you move till the old -man's got the lamp alight, or you'll get hurt." - -"It's the 'tecs," said Father Don savagely. - -"I guess not. We've come to do business." - -This remark seemed to stimulate the curiosity of the two men, and -they refrained from a shout which would have brought in all the -riff-raff without. Allen congratulated himself, that Parkins had -roused this curiosity. He had no desire to fight in a dark cellar -with his back to the wall against a score of ruffians. In a few -minutes the lamp was lighted. "Turn it up, Foxy," said Father Don; -"and now, gentlemen," he added politely, "how did you get here?" - -"A boy called Billy brought us," said Allen stepping forward. "I fear -we've frightened the lady away." - -"Let her go, the jade," said Foxy shrilly; "there would have been a -heap of trouble if she'd remained," and he confirmed this speech with -several oaths. - -Father Don did not swear. He spoke in a clear, refined, and -educated voice, and apparently was a well-educated man who had -fallen into the depths through some rascality. But his face looked -most benevolent, and no one would have suspected him of being a -ruffian of the worst. He eyed Allen piercingly, and also his -companion. "Well, gentlemen," he asked quietly, "and what can I do -for you?" Horace sat down heavily and pulled out his pipe. "We may -as well talk comfortably," he said. "Sit down, Hill." - -"Hill?" said Father Don with a start, while Foxy opened his small -eyes--"not of Wargrove?" - -"The same," said Allen quietly. "How do you know me?" - -"I know a good many things," said Father Don calmly. - -"Do you know who shot Strode?" - -Foxy rose as though moved by a spring. "You're on that lay, are you?" -said he shrilly; "then you've come to the wrong shop." - -"Oh, I guess not, said Horace lazily--to the right shop. You see, -Mister," he went on to the elder ruffian, "we want that wooden hand." - -"What wooden hand?" asked Father Don. "If you mean----" - -"Yes, I do mean that," said Allen quickly; "you brought it to Mr. Mask -to get the money." - -"Did I?" said Father Don coolly and eyeing the young man; "well, maybe -I did. But I didn't take it from the dead?" - -Allen coloured. "Merry took it," he said. - -"Oh no, he didn't," sneered Foxy. "Merry got it from Butsey, who dug -it up after it had been planted by----" - -"Stop," said Allen, rising. "Father Don," he added, turning to -the old man, "you seem to be a gentleman----" - -"I was once. But what's that got to do with this?" - -"Stop this man," he pointed to Foxy, "from mentioning names." - -"I'll stop everything, if you'll tell us where the diamonds are to be -found," said Father Don. - -"I don't know what you mean," said Allen. - -"Oh yes, you do. You know everything about this case, and you've come -here to get the hand. Well then, you won't. Only while I hold that -hand can I get the diamonds." - -"Where will you get them?" - -"That's what I want you to tell me." - -"I guess Red Jerry knows," said Horace sharply; "he took the diamonds -from the dead body of the man he shot." - -"Meaning Strode," said Foxy, with a glance at Father Don. - -"Jerry didn't shoot him," said that venerable fraud. - -"I surmise he did," said Parkins. "Ask him in." - -"How do you know about Jerry?" asked Father Don uneasily. - -"I sailed along o' him, and saved him from being lynched as a -horse-thief. If you won't call him in, I'll do so myself." - -"Hold your tongue," said Father Don, rising and looking very -benevolent, "you take too much upon yourself. I'm king here, and if I -say the word neither of you will go out alive." - -"Oh, I guess so," said Horace coolly, "we don't come unprepared," and -in a moment he swung out his Derringer. "Sit still, Father Christmas," -said Parkins, levelling this, "or you'll get hurt." - -Seeing Parkins's action, Allen produced his weapon and covered Foxy, -so there sat the kings of the castle, within hail of their ruffianly -crew, unable to call for assistance. - -"And now we'll call in Jerry," said Allen coolly. "Sing out, Parkins." - -But before the big American could raise a shout there was a sudden -noise outside. A shrill voice was heard crying that the police were -coming, and then ensued a babel. Father Don seized the opportunity -when Parkins's eye was wavering to knock the revolver out of his -hand. The American thereupon made a clutch at his throat, while -Allen tripped Foxy up. A small boy dashed into the room. He was -white-faced, stunted, red-haired, and had but one eye. At once he -made for Parkins, squealing for the police. When he got a grip of -Horace's hand he dropped his voice: - -"Ketch t'other cove's hand, and mine," said the boy, and then with a -dexterous movement overturned the table, whereby the lamp went out -again for the second time. Parkins seized the situation at once, and -while Father Don, suddenly released, scrambled on the floor, and made -use for the first time of bad language, he grabbed Allen's hand and -dragged him toward the door. Horace in his turn was being drawn -swiftly along by the small boy. The outer cellar was filled with a -mass of screaming, squalling, swearing humanity, all on the alert for -the advent of the police. The boy drew the two men through the crowd, -which did not know whence to expect the danger. Horace hurled his way -through the mob by main strength, and Allen followed in his -devastating wake. Shortly, they reached the trap-door, and ran along -the passage. The boy pulled them into the side-room Horace had noted -when he came to the den. - -"Break the winder," said the boy to Parkins. - -The American did not need further instructions, and wrapping his -coat round his arm he smashed the frail glass. From below came -confusedly the noise of the startled thieves. But Horace first, -Allen next, and the boy last, dropped on to the pavement. Then -another lad appeared, and all four darted up the street. In ten -minutes they found themselves blown but safe, in the chief -thoroughfare and not far from a policeman, who looked suspiciously -at them. - -"There," said the last-joined boy, "you're saif. Butsey saived y'." - -"Butsey?" said Allen, looking at the stunted, one-eyed lad. - -"That's me," said Butsey with a grin; "y'were near being scragged by -th' ole man. If y'd called Red Jerry, he'd ha' done fur y'. Miss Lorry -told me t'get you out, and I've done it." - -"But I reckon the old Father Christmas told us you were locked up." - -"Was," said Butsey laconically; "in th' attic--bread an' water. I -ain't goin' to work fur sich a lot any more, so I dropped out of th' -winder, and climbed the roof--down the spout. In the street I met Miss -Lorry--she told me there was fightin' below, so'--he winked. - -"Then there was no police?" said Allen, admiring the boy's cleverness. - -"Not much. But they're allays expecting of th' peelers," said Butsey -coolly; "'twasn't difficult to get 'em rizzed with fright. But you look -here, Misters, you clear out now, or they'll be after you." - -"You come also, Butsey." - -"Not me. I'm a-goin' to doss along o' Billy here. I'll come an' see you -at Wargrove and bring the wooden hand with me." - -"What," said Allen, "do you know----?" - -"I knows a lot, an' I'm going to split," said Butsey. "Give us a -bob"; and when Allen tossed him one, he spat on it for luck. "See y' -m' own time," said Butsey. "I'm goin' to turn respectable an' split. -Th' ole man ain't goin' to shut me up for nix. 'Night," and catching -his companion's arm, both boys ran off into the darkness. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MRS. MERRY'S VISITORS - - -The visit to the den was certainly a fiasco. Those who had ventured -into those depths, had, on the face of it, gained nothing. What would -have happened had not Butsey raised the false alarm it is impossible -to say. According to the boy, Jerry would have turned disagreeable, -and probably there would have been a free fight. As it was, Allen and -Horace came back without having achieved their object. They were as -far as ever from the discovery of the truth. - -"And yet, I don't know," said Allen hopefully, "somehow I feel -inclined to trust Butsey. He's got some scheme in his head." - -"Huh," said Horace heavily, "y' can't trust a boy like that. He's got -his monkey up because the old man dropped on him, but like as not, -he'll change his tune and go back. Father Don 'ull make things square. -He can't afford to lose a promising young prig like Butsey." - -"I believe the boy will come to Wargrove as he said," insisted Allen. - -"In that case I guess we'd better go down too. Would you mind putting -me up for a few days?" - -"I'll be glad, and I don't think my father will object. It is just as -well you should see him." - -"That's why I want to come down," said Parkins cheerfully; "y'see, -Hill, the business has to be worked out somehow. I think your father's -got a crazy fit, and there isn't anything he's got to be afraid of. -But he's shivering about some one, and who that some one is, we must -learn. Better we should sift the matter ourselves than let the police -handle it." - -Allen turned pale. "God forbid," said he; "I want the authorities kept -away." - -So Allen wrote a letter to his father, asking if he could bring down -Parkins for a few days. The reply, strange to say, came from Mrs. -Hill, and the reading of it afforded Allen some thought. - -"There is no need to ask your father anything," she wrote, "he has -given everything into my hands, even to the money. What the reason -is I can't say, as he refuses to speak. He seems very much afraid, and -remains in his own rooms--the Japanese apartments. Mr. Mask also -refused to speak, saying my husband would tell me himself if he felt -inclined, but I can learn nothing. I am glad you are coming back, -Allen, as I am seriously anxious. Of course you can bring Mr. -Parkins. The house is large and he will not need to go near your -father, though, it may be, the sight of a new face would do your -father good. At all events come down and let us talk over things." - -So Allen and Horace went to Westhaven and drove over to Wargrove. On -the way Allen stopped the brougham, which was driven by Harry -Jacobs, and took Horace to the Red Deeps to see the spot where the -murder had been committed. When they got back--as the day was -wet--their boots were covered with the red mud of the place. Jacobs -saw this, and begged to speak to Allen before he got in. - -"I say, Mr. Allen," he whispered, so that Parkins, now in the -brougham, should not hear, "do you remember when I drove you to Misery -Castle I said I'd tell you something?" - -"Yes. What is it?" - -"Well, you know I clean the boots, sir? Well, master's boots were -covered with that red mud, on the day after----" - -"I know all about that," interrupted Allen, feeling his blood run cold -as he thought what trouble might come through the boy's chatter; "my -father explained. You need not mention it." - -"No, sir," said Jacobs obediently enough. He was devoted to Allen, -for a queer reason that Allen had once thrashed him for being -impertinent. There was no danger that he would say anything, but on -the way to Wargrove the groom wondered if his master had anything to -do with the commission of the crime. Only in the direction of the Red -Deeps could such mud be found, and Jacobs had no doubt but that Mr. -Hill senior had been to the place. - -When they arrived at "The Arabian Nights" Mr. Hill at first refused -to see Allen, but consented to do so later. When the young man -entered the Japanese rooms, he was alarmed to see how ill his father -looked. The man was wasting to skin and bone, his face was as white -as death, and he started nervously at every noise. - -"You must see Dr. Grace," said Allen. - -"No," said Hill, "I won't--I shan't--I can't. How can you ask me to -see any one when I'm in such danger?" - -"You're in no danger here," said his son soothingly. - -"So your mother says, and I can trust her. Let me keep to my own -rooms, Allen, and leave me alone." - -"You don't mind Parkins being in the house?" - -"Why should I?--the house has nothing to do with me. I have given -everything over to your mother's care. Mask has drawn up my will--it -is signed and sealed, and he has it. Everything has been left to your -mother. I left nothing to you," he added maliciously. - -"I don't want anything, so long as my mother is safe." - -"She is safe," said his father gloomily, "but am I? They'll find me -out and kill me----" - -"Who will?" asked Allen sharply. - -"Don't speak like that--your voice goes through my head. Go away and -amuse your friend. Your mother is mistress here--I am nothing, I -only want my bite and sup--leave me alone--oh, how weary I am!" - -So the miserable man maundered on. He had quite lost his -affectations and looked worn out. He mostly lay on the sofa all -day, and for the rest of the time he paced the room ceaselessly. -Seeing him in this state Allen sought his mother. - -"Something must be done," he said. - -"What can be done?" said Mrs. Hill, who looked firmer than ever. -"He seems to be afraid of something. What it is I don't know--the -illness is mental, and you can't minister to a mind diseased. -Perhaps you can tell me what this all means, Allen." - -"I'll tell you what I know," said Allen wearily, for the anxiety was -wearing out his nerves, and he thereupon related all that had taken -place since he left Wargrove. Mrs. Hill listened in silence. - -"Of course, unless your father speaks we can do nothing," she said at -last; "do you think he is in his right mind, Allen?" - -"No. He has always been eccentric," said the son, "and now, as he is -growing old he is becoming irresponsible. I am glad he has given -everything over to you, mother, and has made his will." - -"Mr. Mask induced him to do that," said Mrs. Hill thankfully; "if he -had remained obstinately fixed about the money I don't know what I -should have done. But now that everything is in my hands I can manage -him better. Let him stay in his rooms and amuse himself, Allen. If it -is necessary that he should see the doctor I shall insist on his doing -so. But at present I think it is best to leave him alone." - -"Well, mother, perhaps you are right. And in any case Parkins and I -will not trouble him or you much. I'll introduce him to Mrs. Palmer, -and she'll take him off our hands." - -"Of course she will," said Mrs. Hill rather scornfully; "the woman's -a born flirt. So you don't know yet who killed Eva's father, Allen?" - -"No," said he, shaking his head. "I must see Eva and tell her of my -bad fortune." - -No more was said at the time, and life went on fairly well in the -house. Under Mrs. Hill's firm sway the management of domestic affairs -was much improved, and the servants were satisfied, which they had -never been, when Lawrence Hill was sole master. Parkins was much -liked by Mrs. Hill, and easily understood that Mr. Hill, being an -invalid, could not see him. She put it this way to save her husband's -credit. She was always attending to him, and he clung to her like a -frightened child to its mother. There was no doubt that the fright -over the parcel had weakened a mind never very strong. - -Allen and Parkins walked, rode, golfed on the Shanton Links, and -paid frequent visits to Mrs. Palmer's place. Allen took the -American there within a couple of days of his return, and the -widow forthwith admired Parkins. "A charming giant," she described -him, and Horace reciprocated. "I like her no end," he confided to -Allen; "she's a clipper. Just the wife for me." - -Eva laughed when Allen told her this, and remarked that if things went -on as they were doing there was every chance that Mrs. Palmer would -lose her heart. - -"But that's ridiculous, Eva," said Allen, "they have known each other -only five days." - -"Well, we fell in love in five minutes," said Eva, smiling, which -provocative remark led to an exchange of kisses. - -The two were seated in the drawing-room of the villa. They had -enjoyed a very good dinner, and had now split into couples. Allen -and Eva remained in the drawing-room near the fire, while Parkins -and Mrs. Palmer played billiards. It was a chill, raw evening, but -the room looked bright and cheerful. The lovers were very happy -being together again, and especially at having an hour to -themselves. Mrs. Palmer was rather exacting, and rarely let Eva out -of her sight. - -"But she is really kind," said Eva, turning her calm face to Allen; -"no one could be kinder." - -"Except me, I hope," said Allen, crossing the hearth-rug and seating -himself by her side. "I want to speak seriously, Eva." - -"Oh dear," she said in dismay; "is it about our marriage?" - -"Yes. I have arranged the money business with Horace Parkins, and it -is necessary I should go to South America as soon as possible. If I -don't, the mine may be sold to some one else." - -"But can't Mr. Mark Parkins buy it?" - -"Well, he could, but Horace wants to go out, so as to be on the -spot, and I must go with him. It's my one chance of making a -fortune, for the mine is sure to turn out a great success. As I want -to marry you, Eva, I must make money. There's no chance, so far as I -can see, of your getting that forty thousand pounds Lord Saltars -spoke of." - -"Then you really think, Allen, that there is money?" - -"I am certain of it--in the form of diamonds. But we'll talk of that -later. Meantime I want to say that, as you wish it, we'll put off -our marriage for a year. You can stay here with Mrs. Palmer, and -I'll go next month to South America with Horace Parkins." - -"But what about my father's death?" - -"I hope that we'll learn the truth within the next three weeks," -said Allen. "Everything turns on this boy Butsey. He knows the -truth." - -"But will he tell it?" - -"I think he will. The lad is clever but venomous. The way in which -he has been treated by his father and Don has made him bitter -against them. Also, after the false alarm he gave the other night to -get Parkins and me out of the mess, he can't very well go back to that -place. The old man would murder him; and I don't fancy the poor little -wretch would receive much sympathy from his father." - -"What do you think of him, Allen?" - -"My dear, I don't know enough about him to speak freely. From -what the philanthropist in Whitechapel says, I think the boy is -very clever, and that his talents might be made use of. He is -abominably treated by the brutes he lives with--why, his eye was put -out by his father. But the boy has turned on the gang. He burnt -his boats when he raised that alarm, and I am quite sure in his -own time, he will come down here and turn King's evidence." - -"About what?" - -"About the murder. The boy knows the truth. It's my opinion that Red -Jerry killed your father, Eva." - -"How do you make that out?" she asked anxiously. - -"Well, Red Jerry knew of your father in Africa and knew that he -was buying diamonds." Allen suppressed the fact of Strode's being -an I. D. B. "He followed him home in the _Dunoon Castle_, and then -went to tell Foxy and Father Don at Whitechapel. They came down to -Westhaven and tracked your father to the Red Deeps, and there shot -him. I can't understand why they did not take the wooden hand -then, though." - -"Who did take the hand?" asked Eva. - -"My father. Yes," said Allen sadly, "you may look astonished and -horrified, Eva, but it was my unhappy father. He is not in his -right mind, Eva, for that is the only way to account for his strange -behaviour;" and then Allen rapidly told Eva details. - -"Oh," said the girl when he finished, "he must be mad, Allen. I don't -see why he should act in that way if he was not. Your father has -always been an excitable, eccentric man, and this trouble of my -father's death has been too much for him. I quite believe he intended -to kill my father, and thank God he did not--that would have parted us -for ever. But the excitement has driven your father mad, so he is not -so much to blame as you think." - -"I am glad to hear you say so, darling," said the poor young fellow, -"for it's been like a nightmare, to think that my father should -behave in such a manner. I dreaded telling you, but I thought it was -best to do so." - -"I am very glad you did," she replied, putting her arms round him; -"oh, don't worry, Allen. Leave my father's murder alone. Go out to -Bolivia, buy this mine, and when you have made your fortune come back -for me. I'll be waiting for you here, faithful and true." - -"But you want to know who killed Mr. Strode?" - -"I've changed my mind," she answered quickly, "the affair seems -to be so mysterious that I think it will never be solved. Still I -fancy you are right: Red Jerry killed my father for the sake of -the diamonds." - -"He did not get them if he did," said Allen, "else he and Father Don -would not have gone to see Mask and thus have risked arrest. No, my -dear Eva, the whole secret is known to Butsey. He can tell the -truth. If he keeps his promise, and comes here we shall know all: if -he does not, we'll let the matter alone. I'll go to Bolivia about -this business, and return to marry you." - -"And then we'll bury the bad old past," said Eva, "and begin a new -life, darling. But, Allen, do you think Miss Lorry knows anything?" - -"What, that circus woman? I can't say. It was certainly queer she -should have been in that den. What a woman for your cousin to marry." - -"I don't know if he will marry after all," said Eva. - -"I believe old Lady Ipsen will stop the marriage." - -"How do you know?" - -"Because she wrote to say she was coming to see me. She says she will -come unexpectedly, as she has something to tell me." - -Allen coloured. He hoped to avoid old Lady Ipsen as he did not -forget that she had accused his mother of stealing the Delham -heirloom. However, he merely nodded and Eva went on: "Of course I am -willing to be civil to her and shall see her. But she's a horrid old -woman, Allen, and has behaved very badly to me. I am her -granddaughter, and she should have looked after me. I won't let her -do so now. Well, Allen, that's one piece of news I had to tell you. -The next is about Giles Merry." - -"What about him?" - -"I received a letter from Shanton written by Miss Lorry. That was when -you were away. She sent it over by Butsey." - -"What! Was that boy here?" - -"Yes. When you were away. He delivered it at the door and went. I -only knew it was Butsey from the description, and by that time the -boy was gone. Had I seen him I should have asked Wasp to keep him -here, till you came back." - -"I understand," said Allen thoughtfully. "Miss Lorry sent for Butsey. -He was told to return to Perry Street, Whitechapel, within a certain -time and did not. For that, Father Don shut him up in the attic and -fed him on bread and water. The treatment made Butsey rebellious. But -what had Miss Lorry to say?" - -"She wrote that if Giles Merry worried me I was to let her know and -she'd stop him doing so." - -Allen looked astonished. "Why should Giles worry you?" he asked -indignantly. - -"I can't say. He hasn't come to see me yet, and if he does, of -course I would rather you dealt with him than Miss Lorry. I want to -have nothing to do with her." - -"Still, she's not a bad sort," said Allen after a pause, "she saved -our lives on that night by sending Butsey to get us out of the den. -Humph! If she met Butsey on that night I wonder if she asked him to -return what he'd stolen?" - -"What was that?" asked Eva. - -"I don't know. Horace Parkins and I overheard her complaining, that -Butsey, when down seeing her, had stolen something. She refused to say -what it was and then bolted when she saw me. But what has Giles Merry -to do with her?" - -"Cain told me that Giles was the 'strong man' of Stag's Circus." - -"Oh, and Miss Lorry knows him as a fellow artiste. Humph! I daresay -she is aware of something queer about him. From the sending of that -parcel, I believe Giles is mixed up with Father Don's lot, and by -Jove, Eva, I think Miss Lorry must have something to do with them -also! We've got to do with a nice lot, I must say. And they're all -after the diamonds. I shouldn't wonder if Butsey had them, after all. -He's just the kind of young scamp who would get the better of the -elder ruffians. Perhaps he has the diamonds safely hidden, and is -leaving the gang, so as to turn respectable. He said he wanted to cut -his old life. Yes"--Allen slapped his knee--"Eva, I believe Butsey -has the diamonds. For all I know he may have shot your father." - -"Oh, Allen," said Eva, turning pale, "that lad." - -"A boy can kill with a pistol as surely as if he were a man, and -Butsey has no moral scruples. However, we'll wait till he comes and -then learn what we can. Once I get hold of him he shan't get away -until I know everything. As to Merry, if he comes, you let me know and -I'll break his confounded neck." - -"I believe Nanny would thank you if you did," said Eva; the poor -woman is in a terrible fright. "He wrote saying he was coming to -see her." - -"She needn't have anything to do with him." - -"I told her so. But she looks on the man as her husband, bad as he is, -and has old-fashioned notions about obeying him. If he wasn't her -husband she wouldn't mind, but as it is----" Eva shrugged her -shoulders. - -They heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Shortly the -footman entered. "There's a woman to see you, miss," he said to Eva, -holding the door open. "Mrs. Merry, miss." - -"What!" cried Eva; "show her in." - -"She won't come, miss. She's in the hall." - -"Come, Allen," said the girl, and they went out into the hall, where -Mrs. Merry with a scared face was sitting. She rose and came forward -in tears, and with sopping clothes, owing to her walk through the -heavy rain. - -"I ran all the way", Miss Eva. "I'm in such sorrow. Giles has come." - -"What, your husband?" said Allen. - -"Yes, and worse. I found this on the doorstep." She drew from under -her shawl the wooden hand! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -AN AMAZING CONFESSION - - -Mr. and Mrs. Merry were seated the next day in the kitchen having a -long chat. It was not a pleasant one, for Mrs. Merry was weeping as -usual, and reproaching her husband. Giles had been out to see his old -cronies in the village, and consequently had imbibed sufficient -liquor to make him quarrelsome. The first thing he did, when he flung -himself into a chair, was to grumble at the kitchen. - -"Why should we sit here, Selina?" he asked; "it's a blamed dull hole, -and I'm accustomed to drawing-rooms." - -"You can't go into the drawing-room," said Mrs. Merry, rocking and -dabbing her red eyes with the corner of her apron. "Miss Eva is in -there with a lady. They don't want to be disturbed." - -"Who is the lady?" demanded Signor Antonio, alias Mr. Merry. - -"Lady Ipsen. She's Miss Eva's grandmother and have called to see her. -What about, I'm sure I don't know, unless it's to marry her to Lord -Saltars, not that I think much of him." - -"Lady Ipsen--old Lady Ipsen?" said Giles slowly, and his eyes -brightened; "she's an old devil. I knew her in the days when I and -Hill and Strode enjoyed ourselves." - -"And bad old days they were," moaned Mrs. Merry; "you'd have been a -better man, Giles, if it hadn't been for that Strode. As for the -jelly-fish, he was just a shade weaker than you. Both of you were -under the thumb of Strode, wicked man that he was, and so cruel to his -wife, just as you are, Giles, though you mayn't think so. But if I -die----" - -"You will, if you go on like this," said Merry, producing his pipe; -"this is a nice welcome. Old Lady Ipsen," he went on, and laughed in -so unpleasant a manner, that his wife looked up apprehensively. - -"What wickedness are you plotting now?" she asked timidly. - -"Never you mind. The marriage of Lord Saltars," he went on with a -chuckle. "Ho! he's going to marry Miss Lorry." - -"So they say. But I believe Lady Ipsen wants to stop that marriage, -and small blame to her, seeing what a man he----" - -"Hold your jaw, Selina. I can't hear you talking all day. You get me -riz and you'll have bad time, old girl. So go on rocking and crying -and hold that red rag of yours. D'ye hear?" - -"Yes, Giles--but Lord Saltars----" - -"He's going to marry Miss Lorry, if I let him." - -Mrs. Merry allowed the apron to fall from her eyes in sheer -amazement. "If you let him?" she repeated; "lor', Giles, you can't -stop his lordship from----" - -"I can stop _her_," said Merry, who seemed determined never to let his -wife finish a sentence; "and I've a mind to, seeing how nasty she's -trying to make herself." He rose. "I'll see Miss Eva and make -trouble." - -"If you do, Mr. Allen will interfere," said Mrs. Merry vigorously. -"I knew you'd make trouble. It's in your nature. But Miss Lorry -wrote to Miss Eva and said she'd interfere if you meddled with what -ain't your business." - -Giles shook off the hand his wife had laid on his arm, and dropped -into a chair. He seemed dumfoundered by the information. "She'll -interfere, will she?" said he, snarling, and with glittering eyes. -"Like her impudence. She can't hurt me in any way----" - -"She may say you killed Strode," said Mrs. Merry. - -Giles raised a mighty fist with so evil a face, that the woman cowered -in her chair. Giles smiled grimly and dropped his arm. - -"You said before, as I'd killed Strode. Well then, I didn't." - -"How do I know that?" cried his wife spiritedly; "you can strike me, -but speak the truth I will. Bad as you are, I don't want to see you -hanged, and hanged you will be, whatever you may say. I heard from -Cain that you talked to Strode on the Wednesday night he was killed. -You met him at the station, when he arrived by the six-thirty, -and----" - -"What's that got to do with the murder?" snapped Giles savagely. "I -talked to him only as a pal." - -"Your wicked London friends were there too," said Mrs. Merry; "oh, -Cain told me of the lot you're in with; Father Don, Foxy, and Red -Jerry--they were all down at Westhaven, and that boy Butsey too, as -lied to me. You sent him here to lie. Cain said so." - -"I'll break Cain's head if he chatters. What if my pals were at -Westhaven? what if I did speak to Strode----?" - -"You was arranging to have him shot," said Mrs. Merry, "and shot him -yourself for all I know." - -Signor Antonio leaped, and taking his wife by the shoulders, shook -her till her head waggled. "There," he said, while she gasped, "you -say much more and I'll knock you on the head with a poker, you -poll-parrot. I was doing my turn at the circus at the time Strode -was shot, if he was shot at nine on Wednesday as the doctor said. I -saw the evidence in the paper. You can't put the crime on me." - -"Then your pals did it." - -"No, they didn't. They wanted the diamonds, it's true----" - -"They struck him down and robbed him." - -"You said they shot him just now," sneered Giles with an evil face, -"don't know your own silly mind, it seems. Gar'n, you fool, there was -nothing on him to rob. If my pals had shot him, they'd have collared -the wooden hand. That was the token to get the diamonds, as Red Jerry -said. But Mask hasn't got them, and though Father Don did open the -hand he found nothing." - -"Open the hand?" questioned Mrs. Merry curiously. - -"Yes. We found out--I found out, and in a way which ain't got -nothing to do with you, that the hand could be opened. It was quite -empty. Then Father Don put it aside, and that brat Butsey prigged -it. Much good may it do him." - -"The wooden hand was put on the doorstep last night," said Mrs. Merry, -"and I gave it to Miss Eva." - -The man's face grew black. "Oh, you did, did you," he said, "instead -of giving it to your own lawful husband? I've a mind to smash -you," he raised his fist again, and his poor wife winced; then he -changed his mind and dropped it. "But you ain't worth a blow, you -white-faced screeching cat. I'll see Miss Eva and make her give -up the hand myself. See if I don't." - -"Mr. Allen will interfere." - -"Let him," snarled Merry; "I know something as will settle him. I -want that hand, and I'm going to have it. Get those diamonds I -will, wherever they are. I believe Butsey's got 'em. He's just -the sort of little devil as would have opened that hand, and -found the paper inside, telling where the diamonds were." - -"But did he have the hand?" - -"Yes, he did. He dug up the hand--never mind where--and brought -it to me. It was empty then. Yes, I believe Butsey has the -diamonds, so the hand will be no go. Miss Eva can keep it if she -likes, or bury it along with that infernal Strode, who was a -mean cuss to round on his pals the way he did." - -"Ah! he was a bad man," sighed Mrs. Merry; "and did he----?" - -"Shut up and mind your own business," said Giles in surly tones. -He thought he had said too much. "It's that Butsey I must look -for. He stole the hand from Father Don and left it on your -doorstep, for Miss Eva, I suppose. He must be in the place, so -I'll look for him. I know the brat's playing us false, but his -father's got a rod in pickle for him, and----" - -"Oh, Giles, Giles, you'll get into trouble again. That Wasp----" - -"I'll screw his neck if he meddles with me," said the strong man -savagely; "see here, Selina, I'm not going to miss a chance of making -a fortune. Those diamonds are worth forty thousand pounds, and -Butsey's got them. I want money to hunt him down and to do--other -things," said Giles, hesitating, "have you got five hundred?" - -"No," said Mrs. Merry with spirit, "and you shouldn't have it if I had. -You're my husband, Giles, worse luck, and so long as you behave -yourself, I'll give you roof and board, though you are not a nice -man to have about the house, but money you shan't have. I'll see Mr. -Mask first. He's looking after my property, and if you----" - -"I'll do what I like," said Giles, wincing at the name of Mask; "if I -wasn't your husband, you'd chuck me, I 'spose." - -"I would," said Mrs. Merry, setting her mouth, "but you're -married to me, worse luck. I can't get rid of you. See here, -Giles, you go away and leave me and Cain alone, and I'll give you -five pounds." - -"I want five hundred," said Giles, "I'll stop here as long as I like. -I'm quite able to save myself from being accused of Strode's murder. -As to Cain," Giles chuckled, "he's taken up with a business you won't -like, Selina?" - -"What is it?--oh, what is it?" gasped Mrs. Merry, clasping her hands. - -"The Salvation Army." - -"What! Has he joined the Salvation Army?" - -"Yes," sneered the father; "he chucked the circus at Chelmsford, and -said it was a booth of Satan. Now he's howling about the street in a -red jersey, and talking pious." - -Mrs. Merry raised her thin hands to heaven. "I thank God he has found -the light," she said solemnly, "I'm Methodist myself, but I hear the -Army does much good. If the Army saves Cain's immortal soul," said the -woman, weeping fast, "I'll bless its work on my bended knees. I -believe Cain will be a comfort to me after all. Where are you going, -Giles--not to the drawing-room?" - -"As far as the door to listen," growled Merry. "I'm sick of -hearing you talk pious. I'll come and stop here, and twist Cain's -neck if he prays at me." - -"Trouble--trouble," wailed Mrs. Merry, wringing her hands, "I -wish you'd go. Cain and me would be happier without you, whatever -you may say, Giles, or Signor Antonio, or whatever wickedness you -call yourself. Oh, I was a fool to marry you!" - -Giles looked at her queerly. "Give me five hundred pounds, and I -won't trouble you again," he said, "meanwhile"--he moved towards the -door. Mrs. Merry made a bound like a panther and caught him. - -"No," she said, "you shan't listen." - -Giles swept her aside like a fly, and she fell on the floor. Then -with a contemptuous snort he left the kitchen and went into the -passage which led to the front. On the right of this was the door of -the drawing-room, and as both walls and door were thin, Mr. Merry had -no difficulty in overhearing what was going on within. Could his eyes -have seen through a deal board, he would have beheld an old lady -seated in the best arm-chair, supporting herself on an ebony crutch. -She wore a rich black silk, and had white hair, a fresh complexion, a -nose like the beak of a parrot, and a firm mouth. The expression of -the face was querulous and ill-tempered, and she was trying to bring -Eva round to her views on the subject of Saltars' marriage. The girl -sat opposite her, very pale, but with quite as determined an -expression as her visitor. - -"You're a fool," said Lady Ipsen, striking her crutch angrily on the -ground. "I am your grandmother, and speak for your good." - -"It is rather late to come and speak for my good, now," said Eva with -great spirit; "you have neglected me for a long time." - -"I had my reasons," said the other sharply. "Jane, your mother, -married Strode against my will. He was of good birth, certainly, but -he had no money, and besides was a bad man." - -"There is no need to speak evil of the dead." - -"The man's being dead doesn't make him a saint, Eva. But I'll say no -more about him, if you'll only listen to reason." - -"I have listened, and you have my answer," said Eva quietly; "I am -engaged to Allen Hill, and Allen Hill I intend to marry." - -"Never, while I have a breath of life," said the old woman angrily. -"Do you think I am going to let Saltars marry this circus woman? -No! I'll have him put in gaol first. He shall not disgrace the -family in this way. Our sons take wives from theatres and -music-halls," said Lady Ipsen grimly, "but the sawdust is lower -than either. I shan't allow the future head of the house to -disgrace himself." - -"All this has nothing to do with me," said Eva. - -"It has everything to do with you," said Lady Ipsen quickly; "don't I -tell you that Saltars, since he saw you at that Mrs. Palmer's, has -taken a fancy to you? It would take very little for you to detach him -from this wretched Miss Lorry." - -"I don't want to, Lady Ipsen!" - -"Call me grandmother." - -"No. You have never been a grandmother to me. I will be now," Lady -Ipsen tried to soften her grim face; "I wish I'd seen you before," -she added, "you're a true Delham, with very little of that bad -Strode blood in you, unless in the obstinacy you display. I'll -take you away from this Mrs. Palmer, Eva----" - -"I have no wish to leave Mrs. Palmer." - -"You must. I won't have a granddaughter of mine remain in a -situation with a common woman." - -"Leave Mrs. Palmer alone, Lady Ipsen. She is a good woman, and when -my relatives forsook me she took me up. If you had ever loved me, -or desired to behave as you should have done, you would have come -to help me when my father was murdered. And now," cried Eva, rising -with flashing eyes, "you come when I am settled, to get me to help -you with your schemes. I decline." - -The old woman, very white and with glittering eyes, rose. "You intend -then to marry Allen Hill?" - -"Yes, I do." - -"Well then, you can't," snapped the old woman; "his mother isn't -respectable." - -"How dare you say that?" demanded Eva angrily. - -"Because I'm accustomed to speak my mind," snapped Lady Ipsen, -glaring; "it is not a chit like you will make me hold my peace. Mrs. -Hill was in our family as a governess before your father married my -daughter Jane." - -"What of that?" - -"Simply this: a valuable diamond necklace was lost--an heirloom. I -believe Mrs. Hill stole it." - -Eva laughed. "I don't believe that for one moment," she said -scornfully. "Mrs. Hill is a good, kind, sweet lady." - -"Lady she is, as she comes of good stock. Sweet I never thought her, -and kind she may be to you, seeing she is trying to trap you into -marrying her miserable son----" - -"Don't you call Allen miserable," said Eva, annoyed; "he is the best -man in the world, and worth a dozen of Lord Saltars." - -"That would not be difficult," said Lady Ipsen, sneering; "Saltars is -a fool and a profligate." - -"And you expect me to marry him?" - -"To save him from disgracing the family." - -"The Delham family is nothing to me," said Eva proudly; "look after -the honour of the family yourself, Lady Ipsen. As to this talk about -Mrs. Hill, I don't believe it." - -"Ask her yourself, then." - -"I shall do so, and even, if what you say is true, which I don't -believe, I shall still marry Allen." - -"Eva," the old lady dropped into her seat, "don't be hard on me. I -am old. I wish you well. It is true what I say about Mrs. Hill. You -can't marry her son." - -"But I can, and I intend to." - -"Oh, this marriage--this disgraceful marriage!" cried the old woman -in despair, "how can I manage to stop it. This Miss Lorry will be -married to Saltars soon, if I can't put an end to his infatuation." - -Eva shrugged her shoulders. "I can give you no help." - -"You might plead with Saltars." - -"No. I can't do that. It is his business, not mine. Why don't -you offer Miss Lorry a sum of money to decline the match?" - -"Because she's bent upon being Lady Saltars, and will stop at -nothing to achieve her end. I would give five hundred--a thousand -pounds to stop the marriage. But Miss Lorry can't be bribed." - -It was at this point that Giles opened the door softly and looked -in. "Make it fifteen hundred, your ladyship, and I'll stop the -marriage," he said impudently. - -"Giles," cried Eva, rising indignantly, "how dare you----?" - -"Because I've been listening, and heard a chance of making money." - -Mrs. Merry burst in at her husband's heels. "And I couldn't stop -him from listening, Miss Eva," she said, weeping; "he's a brute. -Don't give him the money, your ladyship; he's a liar." - -"I'm not," said Giles coolly, "for fifteen hundred pounds I can -stop this marriage. I have every reason to hate Miss Lorry. She's -been playing low down on me, in writing to you, Miss Strode, and -it's time she learned I won't be put on. Well, your ladyship?" - -The old woman, who had kept her imperious black eyes fixed on Giles, -nodded. "Can you really stop the marriage?" - -"Yes I can, and pretty sharp too." - -"Then do so and you'll have the fifteen hundred pounds." - -"Will you give me some writing to that effect?" - -"Yes," said Lady Ipsen, becoming at once a business woman; "get me -some ink and paper, Eva." - -"Stop," said Giles politely--so very politely that his poor wife -stared. "I don't doubt your ladyship's word. Promise me to send to -this address," he handed a bill containing the next place where -Stag's Circus would perform, "one thousand five hundred in notes, and -I'll settle the matter." - -"I'll bring the money myself," said Lady Ipsen, putting away the bill; -"you don't get the money till I know the truth. How can you stop the -marriage? Tell me now." - -"Oh, I don't mind that," said Giles, shrugging. "I'm sure you -won't break your word, and even if you were inclined to you -can't, if you want to stop the marriage. You can't do without -me." - -"Speak out, man," said Lady Ipsen sharply. - -"Well then----" began Giles and then hesitated, as he looked at poor -faded Mrs. Merry in her black stuff dress. "Selina, you give me fifteen -hundred pounds and I'll not speak." - -"What have I got to do with it?" asked his wife, staring. - -"It will be worth your while to pay me," said Merry threateningly. - -"I can't and I won't, whatever you may say. Tell Lady Ipsen what you -like. Your wickedness hasn't anything to do with me." - -"You'll see," he retorted, turning to the old lady. "I've given you -the chance. Lady Ipsen, I accept your offer. Lord Saltars can't marry -Miss Lorry, because that lady----" - -"Well, man--well." - -"That lady," said Giles, "is married already." - -"Who to?" asked Eva, while Lady Ipsen's eyes flashed. - -"To me," said Merry; "I married her years ago, before I met Selina." - -"Then I am free--free," cried Eva's nurse; "oh, thank heaven!" and -she fell down on the floor in a faint, for the first and last time in -her life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE DIAMONDS - - -At seven o'clock that same evening Allen and his American friend were -walking to Mrs. Palmer's to dine. As yet, Allen knew nothing of what -had transpired at Misery Castle, for Eva was keeping the story till -they met. But as the two men passed the little inn they saw Giles -Merry descend from a holiday-making _char-a-banc_. Two or three men -had just passed into the inn, no doubt to seek liquid refreshment. -Allen knew Merry's face, as Mrs. Merry had shown him a photograph of -Signor Antonio in stage dress, which she had obtained from Cain. The -man was a handsome and noticeable blackguard, and moreover his good -looks were reproduced in Cain. Therefore young Hill knew him at once, -and stepped forward. - -"Good evening, Mr. Merry," he said; "I have long wished to meet you." - -Giles looked surly. "My name is Signor Antonio, monsieur," he said. - -"Oh," mocked Allen, "and being Italian you speak English and French -badly?" - -"What do you want?" demanded Giles savagely, and becoming the English -gipsy at once. "I've no time to waste?" - -"Why did you send that cross to Mr. Hill?" - -Giles grinned. "Just to give him a fright," he said. "I knew he -was a milk-and-water fool, as I saw a lot of him in the old -days, when I did Strode's dirty work." - -"You dug up the wooden hand?" - -"No, I didn't. Butsey, who was on the watch, saw Hill plant it, -and dug it up. He brought it to me, and I gave it to Father Don. -Then Butsey stole it back, and passed it along to that young -woman you're going to marry." - -"I guess," said Horace at this point, "you'd best speak civil of -Miss Strode. I'm not taking any insolence this day." - -Allen nodded approval, and Giles cast a look over the big limbs of -the American. Apparently, strong man as he was, he thought it -would be best not to try conclusions with such a giant. "I wish -I'd met you in Father Don's den," he said. "I'd have smashed that -handsome face of yours." - -"Two can play at that game," said Allen quietly; "and now, Mr. -Merry, or Signor Antonio, or whatever you choose to call -yourself, why shouldn't I hand you over to Wasp?" - -"You can't bring any charge against me." - -"Oh, can't I? You know something about this murder----" - -"I was playing my turn at the circus in Westhaven when the shot -was fired," said Giles coolly. - -"I didn't say you shot the man yourself; but you know who did." - -"No, I don't," said Merry, his face growing dark; "if I did know -the man, I'd make him a present. I'd like to have killed Strode -myself. He played me many a dirty trick, and I said I'd be even -with him. But some one else got in before me. As to arrest," he -went on sneeringly, "don't you think I'd be such a fool as to come -down here, unless I was sure of my ground. Arrest me indeed!" - -"I can on suspicion. You're in with the Perry Street gang." - -Giles cast a look towards the inn and laughed. "Well, you've got to -prove that I and the rest have done wrong, before you can run us all -in." - -"The wooden hand----" - -"Oh, we know all about that, and who stole it," said Giles meaningly. - -Allen started. He saw well enough that he could not bring Giles to -book without mentioning the name of his father. Therefore he changed -his mind about calling on Wasp to interfere, and contented himself -with a warning. "You'd best clear out of this by to-morrow," said he -angrily. "I shan't have you, troubling your wife." - -"My wife! Ha--ha!" Merry seemed to find much enjoyment in the remark. - -"Or Miss Strode either." - -"Oh," sneered the man insolently, "you'd best see Miss Strode. She may -have something interesting to tell you. But I can't stay talking here -for ever. I'm going back to Shanton to-night. Come round at eleven," -he said to the driver of the _char-a-banc_. "We'll drive back in the -moonlight." - -"I think you'd better," said Allen grimly; "you stop here to-morrow, -and whatever you may know about a person, whose name need not be -mentioned, I'll have you run in." - -"Oh, I'll be gone by to-morrow," sneered Merry again, and took his cap -off with such insolence that Horace longed to kick him, "don't you -fret yourself. I'm a gentleman of property now, and intend to cut the -sawdust and go to South Africa--where the diamonds come from," he -added with an insolent laugh, and then swung into the inn, leaving -Allen fuming with anger. But there was no use in making a disturbance, -as the man could make things unpleasant for Mr. Hill, so Allen -walked away with Horace to Mrs. Palmer's. - -It would have been wiser had he entered the inn, for in the -coffee-room were three men, whom he might have liked to meet. -These were Father Don smartly dressed as a clergyman, Red Jerry as a -sailor, and Foxy in a neat suit of what are known as hand-me-downs. -The trio looked most respectable, and if Jerry's face was somewhat -villainous, and Foxy's somewhat sly, the benevolent looks of Father -Don were above suspicion. Giles sat down beside these at a small -table, and partook of the drinks which had been ordered. The landlord -was under the impression that the three men were over on a jaunt -from Shanton, and intended to return in the moonlight. Merry had -met them at the door, and now came in to tell them his plans. - -"I've arranged matters," he said in a low voice to Father Don, "the -groom Jacobs is courting some young woman he's keeping company with, -and the women servants have gone to a penny reading the vicar is -giving." - -"What of young Hill and his friend?" - -"They are dining with Mrs. Palmer. The house is quite empty, and -contains only Mr. and Mrs. Hill. I have been in the house before, -and know every inch of it. I'll tell you how to get in." - -"You'll come also?" said Foxy suspiciously. - -"No," replied Giles. "I'll stop here. I've done enough for the money. -If you're fools enough to be caught, I shan't be mixed up in the -matter." - -"We won't be caught," said Father Don with a low laugh; "Jerry will -keep guard at the window, and Foxy and I will enter." - -"How?" asked the sharp-faced man. - -"By the window," said Giles. "I explained to Father Don here, in -London. Hill has taken up his quarters in a Japanese room on the -west side of the house, just over the wall. There are French -windows opening on to the lawn. You can steal up and the grass -will deaden the sound of footsteps. It goes right up to the -window. That may be open. If not, Jerry can burst it, and then you -and Don can enter." - -"But if Hill isn't alone?" - -"Well then, act as you think best. Mrs. Hill's twice the man her -husband is. She might give the alarm. But there's no one in the -house, and she'll have to sing out pretty loudly before the alarm -can be given to the village." - -"There won't be any alarm," said Father Don calmly. "I intend to make -use of that paper I got from you. Where did you get it, Merry?" - -"From Butsey. I found him with Strode's blue pocket-book, and made -a grab at it. I saw notes. But Butsey caught those and bolted. I -got the book and some papers. The one I gave you, Don, will make -Hill give up the diamonds, if he has them." - -"He must have them," said Don decidedly, "we know from the letter -sent to Mask, and which was left at his office by Butsey, that the -hand could be opened. I did open it and found nothing. I believe -that Strode stored the diamonds therein. If Hill stole the hand, -and took it home, he must have found the diamonds, and they are -now in his possession. I expect he looked for them." - -"No," said Merry grimly, "he was looking for that paper you intend -to show him. He'll give up the diamonds smart enough, when he -sees that. Then you can make for Westhaven----" - -"What of the charry-bang?" asked Jerry in heavy tones. - -"That's a blind. It will come round at eleven, but by that time we -will all be on our way to Westhaven. If there is pursuit, Wasp and -his friend will follow in the wrong direction. Then Father Don can -make for Antwerp, and later we can sell the diamonds. But no -larks," said Merry, showing his teeth, "or there will be trouble." - -"Suppose young Hill and his friend tell the police?" - -"Oh," said Giles, grinning, "they will do so at the risk of the -contents of that paper being made public. Don't be a fool, Don, -you've got the whole business in your own hands. I don't want a -row, as I have to meet a lady in a few days," Giles grinned again, -when he thought of Lady Ipsen, "and we have to do business." - -So the plan was arranged, and after another drink Father Don and -stroll in the village to "see the venerable church in the -moonlight," as the pseudo clergyman told the landlord. But when out -of sight, the trio changed the direction of their walk, and made -for "The Arabian Nights" at the end of the village. Departing from -the high-road they stole across a large meadow, and, in a dark -corner, climbed the wall. Father Don was as active as any of them, -in spite of his age. When the three rascals were over the wall and -standing on a smoothly-shaven lawn, they saw the range of the Roman -pillars, but no light in the windows. "It's on the west side," said -Don in a whisper; "come along, pals." - -The three crept round the black bulk of the house and across the -drive. All was silent and peaceful within the boundary of the wall. -The moonlight silvered the lawns and flower-beds and made beautiful -the grotesque architecture of the house. A few steps taken in a -cat-like fashion brought the thieves to the west side. They here saw -a light glimmering through three French windows which opened on to a -narrow stone terrace. From this, the lawn rolled smoothly to the -flower-beds, under the encircling red brick wall. Father Don pointed -to the three windows. - -"The middle one," he said quietly; "see if it's open, Foxy. If not, -we'll have to make a certain noise. And look inside if you can." - -Foxy stole across the lawn and terrace and peered in. After a time, -he delicately tried the window and shook his head. He then stole back -to report, "Hill is lying on the sofa," he said, "and his wife is -seated beside him. He's crying about something." - -"We'll give him something to cry about soon," said Father Don, feeling -for the paper which he had received from Giles. "Smash the middle -window in, Jerry." - -Without the least concealment the huge man rushed up the slope -and hurled his bulk against the window. The frail glass gave way and -he fairly fell into the centre of the room. With a shrill cry of -terror, Hill sprang from the sofa, convulsively clutching the hand -of his wife, while Mrs. Hill, after the first shock of alarm, faced -the intruders boldly. By this time Father Don with Foxy behind him -was bowing to the disturbed couple. Jerry took himself out of the -room, and guarded the broken window. - -"Who are you? what do you want?" demanded Mrs. Hill. "If you don't -go I'll ring for the servants." - -"I am afraid you will give yourself unnecessary trouble," said Don -suavely. "We know the servants are out." - -"What do you want?" - -"We'll come to that presently. Our business has to do with your -husband, Mr. Hill"--Father Don looked at the shivering wretch. - -"I never harmed you--I don't know you," mumbled Hill. "Go away--leave -me alone--what do you want?" - -"We'll never get on in this way.--No, you don't," added Don, as Mrs. -Hill tried to steal to the door, "Go and sit down by your good -husband," and he enforced this request by pointing a revolver. - -"I am not to be frightened by melodrama," said Mrs. Hill scornfully. - -"Sit down, Sarah--sit down," said Hill, his teeth chattering. - -The woman could not help casting a contemptuous look on the coward, -even though she fancied, she owed so much to him. But, as she was a -most sensible woman, she saw that it would be as well to obey. "I am -ready to hear," she said, sitting by Hill, and putting her strong arm -round the shivering, miserable creature. - -"I'll come to the point at once," said Don, speaking to Hill, "as -we have not much time to lose. Mr. Hill, you have forty thousand -pounds' worth of diamonds here. Give them up!" - -Hill turned even paler than he was. "How do you know that?" he asked. - -"It can't be true," put in Mrs. Hill spiritedly. "If you are talking -of Mr. Strode's diamonds, my husband hasn't got them." - -"Your husband stole the wooden hand from the dead," said Foxy, with -his usual snarl. "He took it home and opened it." - -"I did not know it contained the diamonds," babbled Hill. - -"No. You thought it contained a certain document," said Don, and -produced a paper from his pocket, "a blue paper document, not very -large--of such a size as might go into a wooden hand, provided the -hand was hollow as it was. Is this it?" - -Hill gave a scream and springing up bounded forward. "Give it to -me--give it!' he cried. - -"For the diamonds," said Father Don, putting the paper behind him. - -"You shall have them. I hid them in this room--I don't want them, but -that paper--it is mine." - -"I know that--signed with your name, isn't it? Well, bring out the -diamonds, and, when you hand them over----" - -"You'll give me the paper?" - -Foxy shook his head as Father Don looked inquiringly at him. "No, -we must keep that paper, so as to get away--otherwise you'll be -setting the police on our track." - -"I swear I won't--I swear----" Hill dropped on his knees, "I swear----" - -His wife pulled him to his feet. "Try and be a man, Lawrence," she -said. "What is this document?" - -"Nothing--nothing--but I must have it," cried Hill jerking himself -away. He ran across the room, and fumbled at the lock of a cabinet. -"See--see--I have the diamonds! I found them in the hand--I put them -into a canvas bag--here--here--" his fingers shook so that he could -hardly open the drawer. Foxy came forward and kindly helped him. -Between the two, the drawer was opened. Hill flung out a mass of -papers, which strewed the floor. Then from beneath these, he hauled a -small canvas bag tied at the mouth and sealed. "All the diamonds are -here," he said, bringing this to Don and trying to open it. -"Forty thousand pounds--forty--for God's sake--" he broke off -hysterically--"the paper, the paper I signed!" - -Don took possession of the bag and was about to hand over the -document, when Foxy snatched it. "We'll send this from the -Continent," he said, "while we have this, you won't be able to set -the peelers on us." - -Hill began to cry and again fell on his knees, but Father Don took no -notice of him. He emptied the contents of the bag on the table and -there the jewels flashed in the lamp-light, a small pile of very fine -stones. While he gloated over them, Mrs. Hill laid her hand on Foxy's -arm: "What is in that paper?" she asked sternly. - -"Don't tell her--don't tell her!" cried Hill. - -"Lawrence!" - -But he put his hands to his ears and still cried and grovelled. "I -shall go mad if you tell her! I shall--ah--oh--ugh--!" he suddenly -clutched at his throat and reeled to the sofa. - -Mrs. Hill took little notice of him. "Read me the document," she said. - -"I can almost repeat it from memory," said Foxy, putting the paper -into his pocket; "it's simply a confession by your husband that he -stole a certain necklace belonging to----" - -"The Delham heirloom!" cried Mrs. Hill, turning grey, and recoiling. - -"Yes, and also a promise to withdraw from seeking to marry Lady Jane -Delham, and to marry you." - -"Oh!" Mrs. Hill turned such a withering look on her miserable husband, -that he shrank back and covered his eyes. "So this is the real reason -of your chivalry?" - -"Yes," said Father Don, who had placed the diamonds again in his bag, -and stood up, "I heard some of the story from Giles Merry, and read -the rest in the signed document. It was Hill who stole the necklace. -He took the key from the school-room, where it had been left by Lady -Ipsen. He opened the safe, and collared the necklace. Near the door, -he left a handkerchief of yours, Mrs. Hill, so that, if there was -danger, you might be accused. Strode found the handkerchief, and -knowing Hill had possessed it, made him confess. Then he made Hill -sign the confession that he had stolen the necklace, and also made him -promise to marry you." - -Mrs. Hill sank down with a stern, shamed look, "So this was your -chivalry," she said, looking again at her husband, "you stole the -necklace--you let me bear the shame--you tried to incriminate me--you -pretended to wed me to save me from starvation, and--oh, you--you -shameless-creature!" she leaped, and made as though she would have -struck Hill; the man cowered with a cry of alarm like a trapped -rabbit. - -"What became of the necklace?" she asked Don sharply. - -"Strode made Hill sell it, and they divided the profits." - -"Eva's father also," moaned Mrs. Hill, covering her face, "oh, -shame--shame--shall I ever be able to look on this man's face again!" - -Hill attempted to excuse himself, "I didn't get much money," he -wailed. "I let Strode take the lot. He carried the confession in his -wooden hand--that's why I took it. I stole the hand and opened -it--but the confession wasn't in it--I found the diamonds, and I -have given them to you--let me have the paper!" he bounded to his -feet, and snatching a dagger from a trophy of arms on the wall made -for Foxy, "I'll kill you if you don't give it to me!" - -Father Don dodged behind a chair, while Foxy, who was right in the -centre of the room, ran for the window, and, bursting past Jerry, -raced down the lawn with Hill after him, the dagger upraised. Round -and round they went, while Mrs. Hill stood on the terrace, looking on -with a deadly smile. Had Hill been struck down, she would have -rejoiced. Don twitched the arm of Jerry. - -"Let's cut," he said; "I've got the swag, Foxy can look after -himself," and these two gentlemen left the house hurriedly. - -Mrs. Hill saw them disappear without anxiety. The blow she had -received seemed to have benumbed her faculties. To think that she had -been so deceived and tricked. With a stony face she watched Foxy -flying round the lawn, with the insane man--for Hill appeared to be -mad--after him. Foxy, in deadly terror of his life, seeing his pals -disappear, tore the document from his pocket, threw it down, and ran -panting towards the wall. While he scaled it, Hill picked up the -paper and tore it, with teeth and hands, into a thousand shreds. The -three scoundrels had disappeared, and Mrs. Hill looked down coldly on -her frantic husband. Hill danced up to the terrace, and held out his -hands. "Happiness--happiness, I am safe." - -"Coward," she said in a terrible voice. Her husband looked at her, -and then began to laugh weirdly. Then with a cry, he dropped. - -"I hope he is dead," said Mrs. Hill, looking down on him with scorn. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -BUTSEY'S STORY - - -There was no excitement in Wargrove next day over the burglars who -had entered "The Arabian Nights," for the simple reason that the -village knew nothing about the matter. But a rumour was current, that -Mr. Hill had gone out of his mind. No one was astonished, as he had -always been regarded as queer. Now, it appeared, he was stark, -staring mad, and no longer the harmless eccentric the village had -known for so long. And the rumour was true. - -"It is terrible to think of the punishment which has befallen him, -Allen," said Mrs. Hill the next morning; "but can we call it -undeserved?" - -"I suppose not," answered her son gloomily. "I wish I had remained at -home last night, mother." - -"Things would have been worse, had you remained. There would have been -a fight." - -"I would have saved Eva's diamonds, at all events." - -"Let the diamonds go, Hill," chimed in Parkins, who formed a third -in the conversation, "they were come by dishonestly, and would have -brought no luck. You come out to Bolivia, and fix up the mine. Then -you can make your own coin, and marry Miss Strode." - -"But you forget, Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill, "I am now rich, and -Allen need not go to America." - -"No, mother," said Allen hastily, "I'll go. You will do much more -good with my father's money than I can. Besides----" he hesitated, -and looked at Horace. The American interpreted the look. - -"Guess you want a little private conversation," he said; "well -I'll light out and have a smoke. You can call me when you want me -again," and Mr. Parkins, producing his pipe, left the room. - -"My poor mother," said Allen, embracing her, "don't look so sad. It is -very terrible and---- - -"You can't console me, Allen," said the poor woman bitterly, "so do -not try to. To think that I should have believed in that man all -these years. He was a thief--doubly a thief; he not only robbed the -Delhams of the necklace, but robbed the dead, and me of my good -name." - -"I almost think the dead deserved to be robbed," said Allen; "I begin -to believe, mother, that Strode was my father's evil genius as he said -he was. Why should my father steal this necklace, when he had plenty -of money?" - -"He had not at the time. I think his father kept him short. He took -the necklace, I expect, under the strong temptation of finding the key -in the school-room." - -"I believe Strode urged him to steal it," said Allen, "and at all -events Strode was not above profiting by the theft. And it was Strode -who brought about the marriage----" - -"By threats," said Mrs. Hill grimly, "I expect, Strode swore he would -reveal the truth, unless Lawrence married me. And I thought Lawrence -acted so, out of chivalry." - -"But if Strode had revealed the truth he would have incriminated -himself." - -"Ah, but, as I learn, he waited till after I was married before he -disposed of the necklace. Then he sold it through Father Don, who -was his associate in villainy. However, Strode is dead and your -father is mad. I wonder what fate will befall Merry and those -wretches he associates with?" - -"Oh, their sins will come home to them, never fear," said Allen, in a -prophetic vein. "I suppose it is best to let the matter rest." - -"Certainly. Father Don and his two associates have got away. What -about Merry?" - -"He went almost at once to Shanton, and did not pay for the -_char-a-banc_. The owner is in a fine rage and drove back to -Shanton at midnight, vowing to summons Merry, who was responsible -for its ordering." - -"Well, they are out of our life at last," said his mother, "we now -know the secret which caused your unhappy father to try and -murder Strode, and did make him steal the hand. The confession -has been destroyed, so no one can say anything. Merry will not -speak----" - -"No; that's all right. Merry is going to receive money from old -Lady Ipsen, for stopping the marriage of Saltars with Miss Lorry. -I expect he will go to Africa as he says. He'll hold his tongue -and so will the others. But they have the diamonds, and poor Eva -receives nothing." - -"I agree with Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill quickly, "the jewels -were come by dishonestly, and would have brought no good fortune. -Will you tell Eva anything, Allen?" - -"No. I'll tell her as little as possible. No one, but you, I, and -Parkins, know of the events of last night. My poor father has -been reported ill for some time and has always been so eccentric, -so it will surprise no one to hear he has gone mad. We will place -him in some private asylum, and----" - -"No, Allen," said Mrs. Hill firmly, "the poor soul is harmless. -After all, wickedly as he has acted, he has been severely -punished, and is my husband. I'll keep him here and look after him -till the end comes--and that won't be long," sighed Mrs. Hill. - -"Very good, mother, you shall act as you think fit. But we know -the truth now." - -"Yes, save who murdered Mr. Strode." - -"I believe Jerry did, or Giles." - -"They both deny doing so." - -"Of course," said Allen contemptuously, "to save their own skins. -I shall go up to London, mother, and tell Mr. Mask what has taken -place." - -But there was no need for Allen to go to town. That afternoon the -lawyer arrived and with him a small boy with one eye. The lad was -neatly dressed, he had his hair cut, and his face washed. In -spite of his one eye and white cheeks he looked a very smart -youngster, and grinned in a friendly manner at Allen and Horace. - -"This," said Mr. Mask, leading the lad into the room, where the -young men were smoking after luncheon, "is Master Train----" - -"Butsey?" said Allen. - -"Oh no," replied Mask gravely, "he is a gentleman of property now -and is living on his money. You mustn't call him by so low a name -as Butsey." - -The boy grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I saiy, how long's -this a-goin' on?" he inquired; "you've been shying fun at me all day." - -"We won't shy fun any more," said Mr. Mask in his melancholy voice. "I -have brought you here to make a clean breast of it." - -"About the diamonds?" - -"We know about the diamonds," said Horace. "I guess Father Don's got -them." - -"Saikes! hes he?" said Butsey regretfully; "that comes of me tellin' -about the letter I guv to you"--this was to Mask--"if he hadn't opened -the hand, he wouldn't have got 'em." - -"You are quite wrong, Butsey," said Allen, rising. "Horace, I'll -leave the boy in your keeping. Mr. Mask, will you come with me into -the next room?" - -Rather surprised, Mask did so, and was speedily put in possession -of the terrible story. He quite agreed that the matter should be -kept quiet. "Though I hope it won't be necessary to rake it up when -Butsey is tried for murder." - -"What! did that boy shoot Mr. Strode?" - -"I think so," said the lawyer, looking puzzled; "but to tell you the -truth I'm not sure. I can't get the boy to speak freely. He said he -would do so, only in the presence of you and Parkins. That is why I -brought him down." - -"How did you get hold of him?" - -"Through one of the stolen notes. Butsey presented himself at the -bank and cashed ten pounds. He was arrested and brought to me. I -gave bail for him, and brought him to explain." - -"Where did he get the notes?" - -"Out of the blue pocket-book, he says--in which case he must have -committed the murder. Not for his own sake," added Mask quickly. "I -fear the poor little wretch has been made a cat's-paw by the others." - -"Well," said Allen, drawing a long breath of astonishment, "wonders -will never cease. I never thought Butsey was guilty." - -"I can't be sure yet if he is. But, at all events, he certainly knows -who is the culprit, and, to save his own neck, he will confess." - -"But would the law hang a boy like that even if guilty?" - -"I don't think Butsey will give the law the chance of trying the -experiment. He's a clever little reptile. But we had better -return and examine him. Your mother----?" - -"She is with my poor father." - -"Is that quite safe?" asked Mask anxiously. "Perfectly. He is -harmless." - -Mask looked sympathetic, although he privately thought that -madness was the best thing which could have befallen Mr. Hill, -seeing he had twice brought himself within the clutches of the -law. At least there was now no danger of his being punished for -theft or attempted murder, whatever might be said by those who had -escaped with the diamonds; and certainly Mrs. Hill would be -relieved of a very troublesome partner. Had Hill remained sane, -she would not have lived with him after discovering how he had -tricked her into marriage, and had traded on her deep gratitude -all these years. Now, by tending him in his hopeless state, she -was heaping coals of fire on his head, and proving herself to be, -what Mask always knew she truly was, a good woman. - -So, in Allen's company, he returned to the room where Parkins was -keeping watch over Master Train, and found that brilliant young -gentleman smoking a cigarette. "Produced it from a silver case -too," said the amused American. "This is a mighty smart boy. I -guess you got rid of a lot of that money, bub?" - -"I cashed two notes," said Butsey coolly, "but the third trapped -me. But I don't care. I've had a good time!" - -"And I expect you'll pass the rest of your life in gaol." - -"What's that?" said Butsey, not turning a hair; "in gaol?--not -me. I've been in quod once and didn't like it. I ain't a-goin' -again. No, sir, you give me some cash, Mr. Hill, and I'll go to -the States." - -"They'll lynch you there, as sure as a gun," said Horace, -grinning. - -Allen was quite taken aback by the coolness of the prisoner, for -a prisoner Butsey virtually was. Mask leaned back nursing his -foot, and did not take much part in the conversation. He -listened to Allen examining the culprit, and only put a word in -now and then. - -"You don't seem to realise your position," said Hill sharply. - -"Oh yuss, I does," said Butsey, calmly blowing a cloud of smoke, -"you wants to get the truth out of me. Well, I'll tell it, if -you'll let me go. I dessay our friend here"--he nodded to -Mask--"can arrange with the peelers about that note." - -"It's probable I can," said Mask, tickled at the impudence of the -boy; "but wouldn't you rather suffer for stealing, than for -murder?" - - - -The boy jumped up and became earnest at once. "See here," he said, -wetting his finger, "that's wet," and then he wiped it on his -jacket, "that's dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie. I didn't shoot -the old bloke. S'elp me, I didn't!" - -"Who did, then? Do you know?" - -"I might know; but you've got to make it worth my while to split." - -Allen took the boy by the collar and shook him. "You young imp," he -said, "you'll tell everything you know, or pass some time in gaol." - -"Make me tell, then," said Butsey, and put out his tongue. - -"Suppose I hand you over to Father Don and your own parent?" - -"Can't, sir. Th' gang's broke up. They'll go abroad with them -diamonds, and start in some other country. 'Sides, I ain't going in -for that business again. I'm going to be respectable, I am. And I did -git you out of the den, sir," said Butsey more earnestly. - -Allen dropped his hand from the boy's collar. "You certainly did -that--at the request of Miss Lorry. What of her?" - -"Nothing but good," said Butsey, flushing; "she's the best and -kindest laidy in the world. I ain't a-goin' to saiy anything of -her." - -"I don't want you to talk of people who have nothing to do with -the matter in hand," said Hill; "but you must tell us about the -murder. If you don't----" - -"What am I a-goin' to get fur splitting?" asked Butsey in a -businesslike way. - -"I'll arrange that you won't go to gaol. You must remember, Master -Train," said Mask with deliberation, "that you are in a dangerous -position. The note you cashed was taken from a pocket-book which the -murdered man had on his person, when he was shot. How did you get -it, eh? The presumption is that you shot him." - -Butsey whistled between his teeth. "You can't frighten me," said -he, his one eye twinkling savagely; "but I'll tell you everything, -'cept who shot the bloke." - -"Huh," said Horace. "I guess we can ravel out that, when we know -what you have to say. But you speak straight, young man, or I'll -hide you proper." - -"Lor," said Butsey coolly, "I've bin hided by father and old Don -much wuss than you can hammer. But I'll tell--jest you three keep -your ears open. Where 'ull I begin?" - -"From the beginning," said Allen; "how did the gang come to know that -Strode had the diamonds?" - -"It wos father told 'em," said Butsey candidly. "Father's Red -Jerry, an' a onener at that--my eye! He got into trouble here, and -cuts to furrein parts some years ago. In Africay he saw the dead -bloke." - -"Strode?" - -"Well, ain't I a-saiyin' of him?" snapped Butsey; "yuss--Strode. -Father comes 'ome in the saime ship es Strode and knows all about -'im having prigged diamonds in Africay." - -"What do you mean by prigged?" - -"Wot I saiy, in course. Strode got them diamonds wrong----" - -"I. D. B.," said Parkins. "I told you so, Hill." - -"Well then," went on Butsey, looking mystified at the mention of -the letters, "father didn't see why he shouldn't git the diamonds, -so he follered the dead bloke to this here country and come to -tell old Father Don in the Perry Street ken. Father Don and Foxy -both went in with father----" - -"To murder Strode?" said Allen. - -"Not much. They wanted to rob him, but didn't want to dance on -nothink. Father Don's a fly one. I was told about the job, an' -sent to watch the dead bloke. I watched him in London, and he wos -never out of my sight. He wos coming down to this here plaice on -Thursdaiy---" - -"How do you know that?" asked Mask. - -"Cause I knows the 'all porter at the Guelph Hotel, an' he tells -me," said Butsey calmly. "I cuts an' tells Father Don, and him -and father an' Foxy all come to Westhaven on Wednesday to see him -as is called Merry." - -"He's another of the gang?" - -"Rather. He's bin in with us fur years, he hes. And he wos doin' the -strong man at Stag's circus at Westhaven. Father Don, he come down, -knowing Merry 'ated Strode, to try and get him to do the robbin'." - -"Did Merry agree?" - -"In course he did, only too glad to get a shot at Strode----" - -"Do you mean to say Merry shot him?" - -"Naow," said Butsey, making a gesture of irritation, "let a cove -talk. I'll tell you if he shot him, if you'll let me. I saiy we -wos all down to fix things on Wednesdaiy, and I come along with a -blessed ragged kids' fresh air fund, so as to maike m'self saife, -if the police took a hand. I didn't want to be mixed with no gang, -having my good name to think of." - -Horace grinned and rubbed his hands, but Allen frowned. "Go on," he -said sharply, "and don't play the fool." - -"Oh, I'm a-goin' on," was the unruffled reply, "and I don't plaiy th' -fool without cause, d'ye see. Well, I wos at the station at Westhaven, -an' I sees Strode come. I went off to tell Merry, and he comes to the -station and talks to Strode." - -"That was on Wednesday?" - -"Yuss. Strode sold 'us and come down, though we didn't 'ope to 'ave -the pleasure of his company till Thursday. Well, I tried to 'ear -what Giles wos a-saiying, but he guves me a clip on the ear and -sends me spinnin', so I couldn't 'ear. I goes to complain to Father -Don, an' when I gits back, Strode's away and Merry too. He'd started -walkin' to Wargrove, a porter tole me. I wos about to foller, when -Merry, he comes up and tells me, he'll go himself." - -"That's a lie," said Allen; "Merry was doing the strong man that night -in the circus." - -"No, he wasn't," grinned the boy. "I went to the circus, havin' -nothin' to do, and I saw the strong man. It wos Cain Merry, his son, -he's like his father, and could do the fakements. No one knew but the -circus coves." - -"Then Merry----?" - -"He went after Strode. I told Father Don an' Foxy, an' they swore -awful. They couldn't start after him, as they didn't know what 'ud -happen, and Merry's an awful one when put out, so they waited along o' -me, d'ye see? Next daiy Merry come back, but said he'd left Strode -a-goin' to the Red Deeps." - -"What did Father Don do?" - -"He went to the Red Deeps an' found the dead bloke. Then he come back -and saw Merry. What he said to 'im I don't know: but Father Don sent -me with a telegram to send from the St. James's Street orfice, saiying -that Strode wouldn't be down till Friday. I think Father Don did that, -to give toime to Merry to get awaiy." - -"That was the telegram received by Miss Strode after nine on Thursday, -I think?" said Mask. - -"Yuss," said Butsey. "I sent it early an' the kid es took it to -Wargrove forgot it till laite. I comes down again from town, gits back -with the fresh air kids, saime night, to sell the peelers, an' nex' -mornin' I comes down agin to tell Mrs. Merry es Cain would be over -th' nex' daiy." - -"Why did you do that? Cain was in the house." - -"I knowed he wos. But Merry sent me to see if Miss Eva hed heard -o' the death. Then I cuts----" - -"One moment," said Allen, "if Father Don saw the man dead, why -didn't he take the wooden hand?" - -"Cause he didn't know it wos worth anythin' till Mr. Masks here spoke -at the inquest." - -"About its being delivered to get the diamonds?" said Mask; "quite -so. And you saw Mr. Hill bury it?" - -"Yuss. I wos told to watch him, es Merry said he knew a lot about -Strode, and if the wust come he might be accused----" - -"A clever plot. Well?" - -"I follered him and saw him bury something. I digs it up and takes -the cross es he put over it to mark it. Then I gives the 'and to -Father Don an' the cross to Merry. He sends it to Hill to frighten -him, and sends it through Cain. Then Father Don sees Mr. Mask, and -you knows the rest." - -"Not all, I guess," said Horace, stretching a long arm and shaking -the boy, "say straight, you--you imp. Did Merry shoot?" - -"Of course he did," replied Butsey cheerfully, "he hated Strode, an' -wanted to git them diamonds. Merry hed the blue pocket-book, fur -when I come down to see Miss Lorry at Shanton, I took the book from -Merry's box which wos in his room. He found me with it and took it -back, hammerin' me fur stealin'. But I got the notes," added Butsey -with satisfaction, "and I spent three." - -"Merry seems to be guilty," said Mr. Mask; "he was absent from the -circus on that night and let his son--who resembles, him closely--take -his place. He had the pocket-book and----" - -"Got the diamonds? No, he didn't," said Butsey briskly, "he didn't -know es the hand would open. I found that out from a letter I guv -you, Mr. Mask, and tole ole Father Don. He opened the hand--that wos -arter he saw you, Mr. Mask--but he foun' nothin'. Then he guessed es -Hill--your father, Mr. Allen--had got the diamonds, seein' he had the -han', while looking fur some paiper. An' Merry got the paiper out of -the pocket-book," said Butsey, "an' showed it to Don. Wot Don did -with it I dunno." - -"He got the diamonds with it," said Allen grimly, "and has escaped. -But I don't think Merry will. He's at Shanton now, as the circus is -again there by particular request of the townsfolk. We'll go over -to-night, Parkins, and see him perform: then we'll catch him and make -him confess." - -"Will you have him arrested?" asked Horace coolly. - -"We'll see when the time comes," said Allen shortly. "Mask----?" - -"I'll remain here and look after this boy, Master Train." - -Butsey made a grimace, but so the matter was arranged. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -MISS LORRY'S LAST APPEARANCE - - -There was no doubt that Stag's Circus was a great success at -Shanton. Within a comparatively short period it had played three -engagements in the little town, two performances each time, and on -every occasion the tent was full. Now it was the very last night, -as Stag announced; the circus would next turn its attention towards -amusing the North. Consequently the tent was crammed to its utmost -capacity, and Stag, loafing about in a fur coat, with a gigantic -cigar, was in a very good humour. - -Not so Miss Lorry. That lady was already dressed in riding-habit -and tall hat to show off the paces of her celebrated stallion White -Robin, and she sat in her caravan dressing-room fuming with anger. -Miss Lorry always insisted on having a dressing-room to herself, -although the accommodation in that way was small. But she had such -a temper and was such an attraction that the great Stag consented -she should be humoured in this way. She had a bottle of champagne -beside her and was taking more than was good for her, considering -she was about to perform with a horse noted for its bad temper. In -her hand Miss Lorry held an open letter which was the cause of her -wrath. It was from Saltars, written in a schoolboy hand, and -announced that he could never marry her, as he was now aware, -through the dowager Lady Ipsen, that she, Miss Lorry, was a married -woman. "I have been with the dowager to the church in London," said -the letter, "so I know there's no mistake. I think you've treated me -very badly. I loved you and would have made you my wife. Now -everything is off, and I'll go back and marry my cousin Eva Strode." - -There were a few more reproaches to the effect that the lady had -broken the writer's heart, and although these were badly expressed -and badly written, yet the accent of truth rang true. Miss Lorry knew -well that Saltars had really loved her, and would not have given her -up unless the result had been brought about by the machinations of -the dowager. She ground her teeth and crushed up the letter in her -hand. - -"I'm done for," she said furiously. "I'd have given anything to have -been Lady Saltars, and I could have turned that fool round my finger. -I've risked a lot to get the position, and here I'm sold by that -brute I married when I was a silly girl! I could kill him--kill him," -she muttered; "and as it is, I've a good mind to thrash him," and so -saying she grasped a riding-whip firmly. It was used to bring White -Robin to subjection, but Miss Lorry was quite bold enough to try its -effect on the human brute. - -Shortly she sent a message for Signor Antonio, and in a few minutes -Giles presented himself with a grin. He was ready to go on for his -performance, and the fleshings showed off his magnificent figure to -advantage. He looked remarkably handsome, as he faced the furious -woman coolly, and remarkably happy when he thought of a certain parcel -of notes he had that afternoon placed in the safe keeping of the -Shanton Bank. - -"Well, Bell," said he coolly, "so you know the worst, do you? You -wouldn't look in such a rage if you didn't." - -Miss Lorry raised her whip and brought it smartly across the eyes of -Signor Antonio. "You hound!" she said, in a concentrated voice of hate, -"I should like to kill you." - -Merry snatched at the whip, and, twisting it from her grip, threw it -on the floor of the caravan. "That's enough," he said in a quietly -dangerous voice. "You've struck me once. Don't do it again or I twist -your neck." - -"Oh no, you won't," said Miss Lorry, showing her fine white teeth; -"what do you mean by splitting?" - -"I was paid to do so," said Merry coolly; "so, now you know the worst, -don't keep me chattering here all night. I 'ave to go on soon." - -"I have my turn first," said Miss Lorry, glancing at a printed bill -pinned against the wall of the van. "I must speak out, or burst," she -put her hand to her throat as though she were choking. "You beast," she -cried furiously, "have I not suffered enough at your hands already?" - -"You were always a tigress," growled Merry, shrinking back before her -fury; "I married you when you was a slip of a girl----" - -"And a fool--a fool!" cried the woman, beating her breast; "oh, what a -fool I was! You know my father was a riding-master, and----" - -"And how you rode to show off to the pupils?" said Merry with a -coarse laugh. "I just do. It was the riding took me." - -"You came as a groom," panted Miss Lorry, fixing him with a steelly -glare, "and I was idiot enough to admire your good looks. I ran away -with you, and we were married----" - -"I did the straight thing," said Giles, "you can't deny that." - -"I wish I had died, rather than marry you," she said savagely. "I -found myself bound to a brute. You struck me--you ill-treated me -within a year of our marriage." - -Merry lifted a lock of his black hair and showed a scar. "You did -that," he said; "you flew at me with a knife." - -"I wish I'd killed you," muttered Miss Lorry. "And then you left me. I -found out afterwards you had married that farmer's daughter in -Wargrove because you got a little money with her. Then you left her -also, you brute, and with a baby. Thank God, I never bore you any -children! Ah, and you were in with that bad lot of Hill, and Strode, -and Father Don, who was kicked out of the army for cheating at cards. -You fell lower and lower, and when you found I was making money in the -circus you would have forced me to live with you again, but that I -learned of your Wargrove marriage. It was only my threat of bigamy -that kept you away." - -"You intended to commit bigamy too, with Lord Saltars," said Merry -sullenly, "and I was willing enough to let you. But you wrote to Miss -Strode saying you'd stop me going to Wargrove----" - -"So I could by threatening to prosecute you for bigamy." - -Merry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, what good would that do?" he -asked brutally. "I have confessed myself, and now you can do what -you like. Old Lady Ipsen paid me fifteen hundred pounds for -stopping your marriage with Saltars, and now it's off. I'm going to -South Africa," finished the man. - -"I'll prosecute you," panted his wife. - -"No, you won't," he turned and looked at her sharply, "I know a little -about you, my lady----" - -Before he could finish his sentence, the name of Miss Lorry was -called for her turn. She picked up the riding-whip and gave Giles -another slash across the eyes, then with a taunting laugh she -bounded out of the van. Giles, left alone, set his teeth and swore. - -He was about to leave the caravan, intending to see Miss Lorry no -more, and deciding to go away from Shanton next day with his money, -for London _en route_ to South Africa, when up the steps came -Allen. Behind him was a veiled lady. - -"What are you doing here?" demanded Merry, starting back; "get away. -This place is for the performers." - -"And for murderers also," said Allen, blocking the way resolutely, in -spite of the splendid specimen of physical strength he saw before him. -"I know you, Mr. Giles Merry?" - -"What do you know?" asked Merry, turning pale. "I know that you shot -Strode----" - -"It's a lie," said Merry fiercely. "I was at the circus----" - -"Cain was at the circus. He performed in your stead on that night at -Westhaven. You followed Strode to the Red Deeps where he met my -unhappy father, and you shot him. The boy Butsey has confessed how -he found the blue pocket-book, taken from Strode's body, in your box. -You took it back: but the boy retained the notes and was traced -thereby. Butsey is in custody, and you also will be arrested." - -Merry gasped and sat down heavily. "It's a lie. I saw Butsey with the -pocket-book, and took it from him. It was in the book I found the -paper which Don showed to your father; I never knew there was any -notes. I don't know where Butsey stole the book." - -"He took it from you." - -"It's a lie, I tell you," cried Merry frantically, and seeing his -danger. "I was never near the Red Deeps. Ask Cain, and he'll tell you, -I and not he performed. He perform my tricks!" said Merry with a -sneer; "why he couldn't do them--he hasn't the strength. I swear, Mr. -Hill, by all that's holy I was not at the Red Deeps." - -"You were," said the woman behind Allen, and Eva Strode pushed -past her lover. "Allen and I came to this circus to see Cain and get -him to speak about his appearing for you at Westhaven. We came -round to the back, by permission of Mr. Stag. When we were passing -here, I heard you laugh. It was the laugh I heard in my dream--a -low, taunting laugh----" - -"The dream?" said Merry aghast; "I remember reading what you said at -the inquest, Miss Strode, and then my silly wife--the first wife," -said Merry, correcting himself, "talked of it. But dreams are all -nonsense." - -"My dream was not, Giles. The body was brought home, and the five -knocks were given----" - -"By Butsey?" said Merry contemptuously; "bless you, Miss Eva, the -boy was hidden on the verge of the common when you and Mr. Allen -were walking on the night your father's body was brought home. You -told Mr. Allen your dream." - -"Yes, Eva, so you did," said Allen. - -"Well then, Butsey heard you, and being a little beast as he always -is, when he met those three men with the body he came too, and knocked -five times as you described to Mr. Allen. That for dreams," said -Merry, snapping his fingers. - -Eva was slightly disconcerted. "That is explained away," she said, -"but the laugh I heard in my dream, and heard just now in this -caravan, isn't. It was you who laughed, Giles, and you who shot my -father." - -Merry started, and a red spot appeared on his cheek. "I wonder if -Bell did kill him after all?" he murmured to himself; "she's got a -vile temper, and perhaps----" - -Allen was about to interrupt him, when there came a cry of dismay -from the circus tent, and then a shrill, terrible scream. "There's an -accident!" cried Merry, bounding past Eva and Allen, "White Robin's -done it at last," and he disappeared. - -The screams continued, and the noise in the tent. Suddenly there was -the sound of two shots, and then a roar from the audience. A crowd of -frightened women and children came pouring out. From the back came -Stag and Merry and Horace and others carrying the mangled body of -Miss Lorry. She was insensible and her face was covered with blood. - -The tears were streaming down Stag's face. "I knew that brute would -kill her some day," he said. "I always warned her--oh, poor Bell! -Take her into the van, gentlemen. She'll have the finest -funeral;--send for a doctor, can't you!" - -Eva shrank back in horror at the sight of that marred face. The -woman opened her eyes, and they rested on the girl. A flash of -interest came into them and then she fell back unconscious. Stag and -Merry carried her into the van, but Horace, surrendering his place -to another bearer, joined Allen and Miss Strode. - -"It was terrible," he said, wiping his face, which was pale and -grave, "after you left me to see Cain, Miss Lorry entered on her -white stallion. She was not very steady in the saddle--drink, I -fancy. Still she put the horse through some of his tricks all right. -But he seemed to be out of temper, and reared. She began to strike -him furiously with her whip, and quite lost her self-control. He grew -more savage and dashed her against the pole of the tent. How it -happened I can't say, but in a moment she was off and on the ground, -with the horse savaging her. Oh, the screams," said Horace, biting -his lips, "poor woman! I had my Derringer in my pocket and almost -without thinking I leaped into the ring and ran up to put a couple of -bullets through the brute's head. White Robin is dead, and poor Miss -Lorry soon will be," and he wiped his face again. - -Allen and Eva heard this recital horror-struck, and then a medical -man pushed past them. He was followed by a handsome boy in a red -jersey. "Cain--Cain," cried Eva, but he merely turned for a moment -and then disappeared into the van. Merry came out almost -immediately, still in his stage dress and looking ashy white. - -"She's done for," he whispered to Allen, "she can't live another hour," -the doctor says. "I'll change, and come back. Miss Eva," he added, -turning to the horror-struck girl, "you want to know who laughed in -the van? It was Miss Lorry." - -"Your wife?" said Eva, with pale lips; "then she----" - -"If you believe in that dream of yours, she did," said Merry, and -moved away before Allen could stop him. Cain appeared at the top of -the van steps. - -"Miss Eva?" he said, "she saw you, and she wants you." - -"No, no!" said Allen, holding the girl back. - -"I must," said Eva, breaking away; "you come too, Allen. I must -learn the truth. If Miss Lorry laughed"--she paused and looked -round, "oh, my dream--my dream!" she said, and ran up the steps. - -Miss Lorry was lying on the floor, with her head supported by a -cushion. Her face was pale and streaked with blood, but her eyes -were calm, and filled with recognition of Eva. The doctor, kneeling -beside the dying woman, was giving her some brandy, and Cain, in his -red jersey, with a small Bible in his hand, waited near the door. -Allen and Horace, with their hats off, stood behind him. - -"I'm--glad," said Miss Lorry, gasping; "I want to speak. Don't you -let--Saltars--marry you," she brought out the words with great force, -and her head fell back. - -"You mustn't talk," said the doctor faintly. - -"Am I dying?" she asked, opening her splendid eyes. - -The doctor nodded, and Cain came forward with the tears streaming -down his face, "Oh, let me speak, dear Miss Lorry," he said, "let -me pray----" - -"No," said the woman faintly, "I must talk to Miss Eva. I have much to -say. Come and kneel down beside me, dear." - -Eva did so, and took Miss Lorry's hand. The dying woman smiled. -"I'm glad to have you by me, when I pass," she said; "Mr. Hill, -White Robin--he didn't mean to. I was not well--I should not have -struck him." - -"He's dead," said the deep voice of the American; "I shot him." - -"Shot him!" said Miss Lorry, suddenly raising herself; "shot -who?--not Strode. It was I--it was I who----" - -"Miss Lorry--let me pray," cried Cain vehemently; "make your -peace with our dear, forgiving Master." - -"You're a good boy, Cain. You should have been my son. But I must -confess my sins before I ask forgiveness. Mr. Hill, have you -paper and a pencil?--ah, give me some brandy----" - -While the doctor did so, Horace produced a stylographic pen, and a -sheet of paper torn from his pocket-book. He passed these to Allen, -who also came and knelt by Miss Lorry. He quite understood that the -miserable creature was about to confess her crime. Stag appeared at -the door, but did not venture further. Cain saw him, and pushed him -back, "Let her die in peace," he said, and took Stag away. - -"Do you want us to remain?" said the doctor gently. - -"Yes. I want to tell every one what I did. Mr. Hill, write it down. I -hope to live to sign it." - -"I am ready," said Allen, placing the paper, and poising the pen. - -Miss Lorry had some more brandy. A light came into her eyes, and her -voice also became stronger. - -"Hold my hand," she said to Eva. "If you keep holding it, I'll -know you forgive me. I--I shot your father." - -"You--but why?" asked Eva, aghast. - -"Don't take away your hand--don't. Forgive me. I was mad. I knew -your father many years ago. He was cruel to me. Giles would have -been a better husband but for your father. When Strode--I can call -him Strode, can't I?--when he came back from South Africa, he came -to the circus, when we were near London. He found out my address -from Giles, with whom he had much to do, and not always doing the -best things either. Strode said he wanted to marry you to Saltars, -and he heard that Saltars wanted to marry me. He told me that -he would stop the marriage, by revealing that I was Giles's -wife--ah!----" - -Another sup of brandy gave her strength to go on, and Allen set -down all she said.--"I was furious. I wanted to be Lady Saltars: -besides, I loved him. I always loved him. I had such a cruel life -with Giles--I was so weary of riding--I thought I might die poor. -I have saved money--but not so much as I said. I told Saltars I -had five hundred a year: but I have only two hundred pounds -altogether. When that was gone, I thought I might starve. If my -beauty went--if I met with an accident--no, I could not face -poverty. Besides, I loved Saltars, I really loved him. I implored -your father to hold his tongue. Giles could say nothing, as I could -stop him by threatening to prosecute him for bigamy. Only your father -knew----" - -Again she had to gasp for breath, and then went on rapidly as though -she feared she would not last till she had told all. "Your father -behaved like a brute. I hated him. When he came that night to -Westhaven, I heard from Butsey of his arrival, and that he had gone to -the Red Deeps. How Butsey knew, I can't say. But I was not on in the -bills till very late--at the very end of the programme--I had a good, -quick horse, and saddled it myself--I took a pistol--I intended to -shoot your father, and close his mouth for ever. It was his own -fault--how could I lose Saltars, and face poverty and--disgrace?" - -There was another pause while Allen's pen set down what she said, and -then with an effort she continued: "I went to the Red Deeps and waited -behind some trees. It was close on nine. I saw your father waiting by -the spring. It was a kind of twilight, and, hidden by the bushes, I -was really quite near to him. He was waiting for some one. At first I -thought I would speak to him again, and implore his pity; but I knew -he would do nothing--I knew also he was going to Wargrove, and would -tell Mrs. Merry that I was her husband's wife. I waited my chance to -fire. I had tethered the horse some distance away. As I looked there -came a shot which evidently hit Strode on the arm, for he put his hand -up and wheeled round. I never stopped to think that some one was -trying to kill him also, or I should have let the work be done by that -person." - -"Did you know who the person was?" - -"No, I did not see," said Miss Lorry faintly; "I had no eyes save for -Strode. Oh, how I hated him!" a gleam of anger passed over her white -face. "When he wheeled to face the other person who shot, I saw that -his breast was turned fairly towards me. I shot him through the -heart. I was a good shot," added Miss Lorry proudly, "for I earned my -living in the circus at one time by shooting as the female -cowboy"--the incongruity of the phrase did not seem to strike her as -grotesque. "I heard some one running away, but I did not mind. I -sprang out of the bush and searched his pockets. I thought he might -have set down something about my marriage in his papers. I took the -blue pocket-book and then rode back quickly to Westhaven, where I -arrived in time for my turn. That's all. Let me sign it." - -She did so painfully, and then Allen and Horace appended their names -as witnesses. - -"How came the pocket-book into Merry's possession?" It was Allen who -asked, and Miss Lorry replied drowsily-- - -"Butsey stole the pocket-book from my rooms. He saw the notes which I -left in it, and when I was out he found where I kept it. I believe -Merry took it from him, and then--oh, how weary I am!----" - -The doctor made a sign, and Allen, putting the confession into his -pocket, moved away with Horace. Eva bent down and kissed the dying -woman. "I forgive you," she said, "indeed I forgive you. You acted -under a sudden impulse and----" - -"Thank God you forgive me," said Miss Lorry. - -Eva would have spoken but that Cain drew her back. "Ask our Lord and -Master to forgive you," he said in piercing tones. "Oh, pray, Miss -Lorry--pray for forgiveness!" - -"I have been too great a sinner." - -"The greatest sinner may return; only ask Him to forgive!" - -Eva could bear the sight no longer; she walked quickly out of the -tent and almost fainted in Allen's arms as she came down the steps. -And within they heard the dying woman falteringly repeating the -Lord's prayer as Cain spoke it: - -"For-give us our tres-passes as we forgive those who----" - -Then the weaker voice died away, and only the clear tones of the lad -could be heard finishing the sublime petition. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE WINDING OF THE SKEIN - - -A year after the death of Miss Lorry, two ladies sat in Mrs. Palmer's -drawing-room. One was the widow herself, looking as pretty and as -common as ever, although she now dressed in more subdued tints, -thanks to her companion's frequent admonitions. Eva was near her, -with a bright and expectant look on her face, as though she -anticipated the arrival of some one. It was many months since Allen -had gone out to Bolivia, and this day he was expected back with Mr. -Horace Parkins. Before he departed again for South America, a -ceremony would take place to convert Eva Strode into Mrs. Hill. - -"I'm sure I don't know what I shall do without you, Eva dear," said -the widow for the tenth time that day. - -"Oh, you'll have Mr. Parkins to console you, Constance." - -"Mr. Parkins, indeed?" said Mrs. Palmer tossing her head.--She and Eva -were both in evening-dress, and were waiting for the guests. Allen was -coming, also his mother and Mr. Parkins.--"I don't know why you should -say that, dear." - -Eva laughed. "I have seen a number of letters with the Bolivian -stamp on them, Constance----" - -"Addressed to you. I should think so. But something better than -letters is coming this evening, Eva." - -"Don't try to get out of the position," said Miss Strode, slipping -her arm round the waist of the widow; "you created it yourself. -Besides, Allen told me in his letter that Mr. Parkins talked of no -one and nothing but you. And think, dear, you won't have to alter -your initials, Constance Parkins sounds just as well as Constance -Palmer." - -"Better, I think. I don't deny that I like Mr. Parkins." - -"Call him Horace----" - -"He hasn't given me the right. You forget I saw him only for a month -or so, when he was home last." - -"You saw him long enough to fall in love with him." - -"I don't deny that--to you; but if he dares to ask me to be his wife, -I'll tell him what I think." - -"Quite so, and then we can be married on the same day;--I to Allen, -and you to Horace Parkins. Remember Horace is rich now--the mine has -turned out splendidly." - -"I'm rich enough without that," said Mrs. Palmer with a fine colour; -"if I marry, it will be to please myself. I have had quite enough of -marrying for money, and much good it's done me." - -"You have done every one good," said Eva, kissing her; "think how kind -you were to me, throughout that terrible time, when----" - -"Hark!" said Mrs. Palmer, raising a jewelled finger; "at last!" - -Shortly the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered, followed by Allen and -Horace and by Mr. Mask. Eva had already seen Allen, and Mrs. Palmer -had asked him and Horace to dinner, but both ladies were astonished -when they saw the lawyer. "Well, this is a surprise," said the widow, -giving her hand. - -"I thought I would come, as this is Allen's welcome home," said Mr. -Mask; "you don't mind?" - -"I am delighted." - -"And you, Miss Strode?" - -"I am pleased too. I look on you as one of my best friends," said Eva, -who did not forget that she owed Mrs. Palmer's protection to the -lawyer's kindness. "Mrs. Hill, how are you?" - -"I think you can call me mother now," said the old lady as she -greeted her son's promised wife with a kiss. - -"Oh!" said Allen, who looked bronzed and very fit, "I think, mother, -you are usurping my privilege." - -"Why should it be a privilege?" said Horace, casting looks at the -widow; "why not make it a universal custom?" - -"In that case I should----" began Mrs. Palmer. - -"No, you shouldn't," said Horace, "the world wouldn't let you." - -"Let me what? You don't know what I was about to say." - -Horace would have responded, but the gong thundered. - -"You were about to say that you hoped we were hungry," said Mask -slyly; "that is what a hostess usually says." - -"That," said Mrs. Palmer in her turn, "is a hint. Mr. Hill, will you -take in Eva?--Mr. Mask----" - -"I offer my arm to Mrs. Hill," said the old lawyer. - -"In that case," said the widow, smiling, and with a look at the big -American, "I must content myself with you." - -Horace said something which made her smile and blush, and then they -all went into a dainty meal, which every one enjoyed. After the -terrible experiences of a year ago, each person seemed bent upon -enjoyment, and the meal was a very bright one. When it was ended, the -gentlemen did not sit over their wine, but joined the ladies almost -immediately. Mrs. Palmer and Mrs. Hill were in the drawing-room -talking in low tones, but Eva was nowhere to be seen. Allen looked -around, and Mrs. Palmer laughed at the sight of his anxious face. -"You'll find her in the garden," she said; "it's quite a perfect night -of the Indian summer, therefore----" - -Allen did not wait for further information. He departed at once and -by the quickest way, directly through the French window, which -happened to be open. A few steps along the terrace, under a full -moon, showed him Eva walking on the lawn. At once he sprang down the -steps. "Don't walk on the grass, you foolish child," he said, taking -her arm, "you'll get your feet damp." - -"It's too delicious a night for that," said Eva, lifting her lovely -face to the silver moon; "but we can sit in the arbour----" - -"Don't you think Parkins will want that? He's bound to come out with -Mrs. Palmer, and then----" - -"Does he really mean to propose?" - -"He's been talking of nothing else for the last few months, and has -come home for that precise purpose. But for that, he would have -remained with Mark at the mine. Poor Mark has all the work, and we -have all the fun. But I was determined to come to you and make sure -that you hadn't married Saltars after all." - -"Poor Saltars," said Eva, smiling, "he did come and ask me; but his -heart was not in the proposal. That terrible grandmother of mine urged -him to the breach. He seemed quite glad when I declined." - -"What bad taste," said Allen laughing. - -"I think he really loved that poor woman who died," said Eva in low -tones, "and she certainly loved him, when she committed so daring a -crime for his sake." - -"It might have been ambition as well as love, Eva, and it certainly -was a fear of starvation in her old age. Miss Lorry wanted to make -herself safe for a happy time, and so when she found your father was -likely to rob her of an expected heaven, she shot him." - -"I wish the truth had not been made public, though," said Eva. - -"My dear, it was necessary, so as to remove all blame from any one who -may have been suspected. Poor Stag, however, was not able to give Miss -Lorry the splendid funeral he wished to give, out of respect. As you -know, she was buried very quietly. Only Horace and I and Saltars -followed her to her grave." - -"Didn't her husband?" - -"Giles Merry? No: he never came back, even to see her die. The man -was a brute always. He went off to Africa, I believe, with the money -he borrowed--that's a polite way of putting it--from old Lady Ipsen. -I suppose Mrs. Merry was glad when she heard he was out of the -country?" - -Eva nodded. "And yet I think if he had come back, she would have faced -him. Ever since she knew he was not her husband, she seemed to lose -her fear of him. She still calls herself Mrs. Merry for Cain's sake. -No one knows the truth, save you and I and Lady Ipsen." - -"Well it's best to let things remain as they are. I trust Mrs. Merry -is more cheerful?" - -"Oh yes; the fact is, Cain has converted her." - -"Oh, has Cain taken up his residence in Misery Castle?" - -Eva laughed. "It is called the House Beautiful now," she said; "Cain -got the name out of the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and he lives there with -his mother and his wife." - -"What, did he marry Jane Wasp after all?" - -"He did, some months after you left. Wasp was very much against the -match, as he called Cain a vagabond." - -"Well he was, you know." - -"He is not now. After he joined the Salvation Army he changed -completely and is quite a different person. But even then, Wasp would -not have allowed the match to take place, but that Cain inherited two -hundred pounds from Miss Lorry." - -"Ah, poor soul," said Allen sympathetically, "she talked of that sum -when she was dying. Why did she leave it to Cain?" - -"She always liked Cain, and I think she was sorry for the slur on his -birth cast by his father. But she left him the money, and then Wasp -found out that Cain was a most desirable son-in-law." - -"Does he still belong to the Army?" - -"No. Wasp insisted he should leave. So Cain lives at the House -Beautiful and preaches throughout the country. I believe he is to -become a Methodist minister shortly. At all events, Allen, he is -making his poor mother happy, after all the misery she has had." - -"And how do Mrs. Merry and Wasp get along?" - -"Oh, they rarely see one another, which is just as well. Wasp has been -moved to Westhaven at a higher salary, and is getting along -capitally." - -"I suppose he drills his household as much as ever," laughed Allen; -"let us walk, Eva. We can sit on the terrace." - -Eva pinched Allen's arm, and he looked, to see Horace sauntering down -the path with Mrs. Palmer. They were making for the arbour. The other -lovers therefore sat on the terrace, so as to afford Horace plenty of -time to propose. And now, Allen, said Eva, I must ask you a few -questions. "What of Father Don and his gang?" - -"No one knows. I heard that Red Jerry had been caught by the -Continental police for some robbery. But Foxy and Father Don have -vanished into space with their loot. I regret those diamonds." - -"I don't," said Eva proudly; "I would much rather live as your wife on -your money, Allen." - -"On my own earnings, you mean?" - -"Yes, though you will be very rich when your mother dies." - -"I hope that won't be for a long time," said Allen gravely; "poor -mother, she had a sad life with my father." - -"Why did he go mad so suddenly, Allen?" - -"The shock of those diamonds being carried off, I suppose, Eva. But he -was mad when he stole that wooden hand. Where is it?" - -"Buried in the vault. We put it there," said Eva, shuddering; "I -never wish to see it again. Look at the misery it caused. But why did -your father steal it?" - -"Never mind. He was mad, and that's the best that can be said. It was -just as well he died while I was away. He would only have lingered on, -an imbecile. I wish my mother would give up the house and come out -with us to Bolivia, Eva." - -"We might be able to persuade her. But there's one question I want to -ask: What's become of Butsey? I haven't heard of him, since he left -Mr. Mask." - -Allen laughed. "Yes; he gave Mask the slip very smartly," he said, -"a dangerously clever lad is Butsey. I heard he was in America. A -fine field for his talents he'll find there." - -"Why did he tell lies about Giles Merry?" - -"Because he hated Merry, and wanted to save Miss Lorry. He knew all -the time that Miss Lorry was guilty, but would have hanged Giles to -save her. Had she not confessed, Giles, with that brat lying in the -witness-box, would have been in a strange plight." - -"Would they have tried Butsey, had he not got away?" - -"I can't say. Perhaps they would. I am not a good lawyer. You had -better ask Mask. However, the boy's gone, and I dare say he'll -some day be lynched in the States. People like him always come to -a bad end, Eva. Well, any more questions?" - -"I can't think of any. Why do you ask?" - -Allen took her hands, and looked into her eyes. "Because I want to put -the old bad past out of our minds. I want you to ask what you wish to -ask, and I'll answer. Then we'll drop the subject for ever." - -"There's nothing more I want to know," said Eva after a pause; -"tell me about our house, Allen." - -He kissed her, and then told of the quaint Spanish house in the -sleepy old Spanish town, and told also of the increasing wealth -of the silver mine. "We'll all be millionaires in a few years, -Eva, and then we can return to Europe and take a house in -London." - -"Certainly not in Wargrove," said Eva, shivering. "I want to -forget this place with all its horrors. My dream----" - -"Don't talk of it, Eva. We'll be married next week, and then life -will be all joy for us both. Ah, here is Mrs. Palmer!----" - -"Mrs. Parkins that is to be," said the male figure by the widow's -side; "we're going to travel together." - -"I am so glad, Constance," said Eva, kissing her. - -"What about me, Miss Strode?" asked the envious American. - -"I'll salute you by proxy in this way," said Eva, and kissed Allen. - -"Oh, Horace!" sighed Mrs. Palmer, and sank into her lover's arms. - -So all four were happy, and the troubles of the past gave place to -the joys of the present. The evil augury of Eva's dream was -fulfilled--the dark night was past, and joy was coming in the -morning. So after all, good had come out of evil. - - - -THE END. - - - -Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty at the -Edinburgh University Press - - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wooden Hand, by Fergus Hume - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOODEN HAND *** - -***** This file should be named 55102.txt or 55102.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/0/55102/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books(University of Wisconsin Libraries) - - -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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