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diff --git a/58086-0.txt b/58086-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f68ad24 --- /dev/null +++ b/58086-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,22090 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58086 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + 1. Page scan source: Google Books + https://books.google.com/books?id=U3gpAQAAIAAJ + (Library of the University of California) + + + + + +[Illustration: Frontcover] + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Shot in the Leg.] + + + + + + +ROLAND YORKE. + +A Sequel to + +"THE CHANNINGS." + + + +BY +MRS. HENRY WOOD, +AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE." + + + +_TENTH EDITION_. + + +LONDON: +RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty. +1880. + +[_All Rights of Translation and Reproduction are Reserved_.] + + + + + + + "And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, + And with joy that is almost pain + My heart goes back to wander there, + And among the dreams of the days that were + I find my lost youth again. + And the strange and beautiful song, + The groves are repeating it still: + 'A boy's will is the wind's will, + And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" + + Longfellow. + + + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PROLOGUE. + +CHAP. + + I. In the Moonlight. + II. Up to the Monday Evening. + III. Before the Coroner. + IV. Going Home with the News. + V. Mr. Butterby in Private Life. + VI. GODFREY PITMAN. + + + PART THE SECOND. + The Story. + + VII. In the Office. + VIII. Arrival from Port Natal. + IX. Unexpected Meetings. + X. Going into Society. + XI. Day Dreams. + XII. Commotion in the Office of Greatorex and Greatorex. + XIII. Taking the Place of Jelf. + XIV. Gerald Yorke in a Dilemma. + XV. Visitors for Mrs. Jones. + XVI. Winny. + XVII. At Fault. + XVIII. Mr. Brown at Home. + XIX. A Fountain Shivered. + XX. Grand Reviews. + XXI. Roland Yorke's Shoulder to the Wheel. + XXII. A Little More Light. + XXIII. Laid with his Forefathers. + XXIV. As Iron into the Soul. + + + PART THE THIRD. + XXV. During the Autumn. + XXVI. Arriving at Euston Square. + XXVII. A Private Interview. + XXVIII. Disappeared. + XXIX. Restless Wanderings. + XXX. A New Idea for Mr. Ollivera. + XXXI. Mr. Galloway Invaded. + XXXII. In the Cathedral. + XXXIII. A Startling Avowal. + XXXIV. A Telegram To Helstonleigh. + XXXV. Life's Sands Running on. + XXXVI. Gerald Yorke at a Shooting Party. + XXXVII. In Custody. + XXXVIII. Between Bede and his Clerk. + XXXIX. Nearer and Nearer. + XL. Godfrey Pitma's Tale. + XLI. A Telegram for Roland Yorke. + XLII. A Wide Black Band on Roland's Hat. + XLIII. Dreams Realized. + XLIV. Conclusion. + + + + + + +ROLAND YORKE. +------------- + +Prologue. + + +CHAPTER I. +IN THE MOONLIGHT. + + +The scene of this Prologue to the story about to be written was a +certain cathedral town, of which most of you have heard before, and +the time close upon midnight. + + +It was a warm night at the beginning of March. The air was calm and +still; the bright moon was shedding her pure light with unusual +brilliancy on the city, lying directly underneath her beams. On the +pinnacles of the time-honoured cathedral; on the church-spire, whose +tapering height has made itself a name; on the clustering roofs of +houses; on the trees of what people are pleased to call the Park; on +the river, silently winding its course along beneath the city walls; +and on the white pavement of its streets: all were steeped in the soft +and beautiful light of the Queen of Night. + +Surely at that late hour people ought to have been asleep in their +beds, and the town hushed to silence! Not so. A vast number of +men--and women too, for the matter of that--were awake and abroad. At +least, it looked a good number, stealing quietly in one direction +along the principal street. A few persons, comparatively speaking, +assembled together by daylight, will look like a crowd at night. They +went along for the most part in silence, one group glancing round at +another, and being glanced at, back again: whether drawn out by +curiosity, by sympathy, by example, all seemed very much as if they +were half ashamed to be seen there. + +Straight through the town, past the new law-courts, past the squares +and the good houses built in more recent years, past the pavements and +the worn highway, telling of a city's bustle, into the open country, +to where a churchyard abuts upon a side-road. A rural, not much +frequented churchyard, dotted with old graves, its small, grey church +standing in the middle. People were not buried there now. On one side +of the church yard, open to the side way, the boundary hedge had +disappeared, partly through neglect. The entrance was on the other +side, facing the city; and where was the use of raising up again the +trodden-down hedge, destroyed gradually and in process of time by boys +and girls at play? So, at least, argued the authorities--when they +argued about it at all. + +People were not buried there now: and yet a grave was being dug. At +the remotest corner of this open side of the churchyard, so close to +the consecrated ground that you could scarcely tell whether they were +on it or off it, two men with torches were working at the nearly +finished, shallow, hastily-made grave. A pathway, made perhaps more of +custom than of plan, led right over it into the churchyard--if any +careless person chose to enter it by so unorthodox a route--and the +common side-road, wide enough to admit of carts and other vehicles, +crossed it on the exact spot where the grave was being dug. So that a +spectator might have said the grave's destined occupant was to lie in +a cross-road. + +Up to this spot came the groups, winding round the front hedge +silently, save from the inevitable hum which attends a number, their +footsteps grating and shuffling on the still air. That there was some +kind of _reverence_ attaching to the feeling in general, was proved by +the absence of all jokes and light words; it may be almost said by the +absence of conversation altogether, for what little they said was +spoken in whispers. The open space beyond the grave was a kind of +common, stretching out into the country, so that there was room and to +spare for these people to congregate around, without pressing +inconveniently on the sides of the shallow grave. Not but what +every soul went close to give a look in, taking a longer or shorter +time in the gaze as curiosity was slow or quick to satisfy itself. + +The men threw out the last spadeful, patted the sides well, and +ascended to the level of the earth. Not a minute too soon. As they +stamped their feet, like men who have been in a cramped position, and +put their tools away back, the clock of the old grey church struck +twelve. It was a loud striker at all times; it sounded like a gong in +the stillness of the night, and a movement ran through the startled +spectators. + +With the first stroke of the clock there came up a wayfarer. Some +traveller who had missed his train at Bromsgrove, and had to walk the +distance. He advanced with a jaunty though somewhat tired step along +the highway, and did not discern the crowd until close upon them, for +the road wound just there. To say that he was astonished would be +saying little. He stood still, and stared, and rubbed his eyes, almost +questioning whether the unusual scene could be real. + +"What on earth's the matter?" demanded he of someone near him. "What +does it all mean?" + +The man addressed turned at the question, and recognized the speaker +for Mr. Richard Jones, an inhabitant of the town. + +At least he was nearly sure it was he, but he knew him by sight but +slightly. If it was Mr. Jones, why this same crowd and commotion had +to do with him, in one sense of the word. Its cause had a great deal +to do with his home. + +"Can't you answer a body?" continued Mr. Jones, finding he got no +reply. + +"Hush!" breathed the other man. "Look there." + +Along the middle of the turnpike-road, on their way from the city, +came eight men with measured and even tread, bearing a coffin on their +shoulders. It was covered with what looked like a black cloth shawl, +whose woollen fringe was clearly discernible in the moonlight. Mr. +Jones had halted at the turning up to the churchyard, where he first +saw the assembly of people; consequently the men bearing the coffin, +whose heavy tread and otherwise silent presence seemed to exhale a +kind of unpleasant thrill, passed round by Mr. Jones, nearly touching +him. + +"What _is_ it?" he repeated in a few seconds, nearly wild to have his +understanding enlightened. + +"Don't you see what it is?--a coffin. It's going to be buried in that +there cross grave up yonder." + +"But who is in the coffin?" + +"A gentleman who died by his own hand. The jury brought it in +self-murder, and so he's got to be put away without burial service." + +"Lawk a mercy!" exclaimed Mr. Jones, who though a light shallow, +unstable man, given to make impromptu excursions from his home and +wife, and to spend too much money in doing it, was not on the whole a +bad-hearted one. "Poor gentleman! Who was it?" + +"One of them law men in wigs that come in to the 'sizes." + +Mr. Jones might have asked more but for two reasons. The first was, +that his neighbour moved away in the wake of those who were beginning +to press forward to see as much as they could get to see of the +closing ceremony; the next was, that in a young woman who just then +walked past him, he recognized his wife's sister. Again Mr. Jones +rubbed his eyes, mentally questioning whether this second vision might +be real. For she, Miss Rye, was a steady, good, superior young woman, +not at all likely to come out of her home at midnight after a sight of +any sort, whether it might be a burying or a wedding. Mr. Jones really +doubted whether his sight and the moonlight had not played him false. +The shortest way to solve this doubt would have been to accost the +young woman, but while he had been wondering, she disappeared. In +truth it was Miss Rye, and she had followed the coffin from whence it +was brought, as a vast many more had followed it. Not mixing with +them; walking apart and alone, close to the houses, in the deep +shade cast by their walls. She was a comely young woman of about +seven-and-twenty, tall and fair, with steady blue eyes, good features, +and a sensible countenance. In deep mourning for her mother, she wore +on this night a black merino dress, soft and fine, and a black shawl +trimmed with crape, that she held closely round her. But she had +disappeared; and amidst so many Mr. Jones thought it would be useless +to go looking for her. + +A certain official personage or two, perhaps deputies from the +coroner, or from the parish, or from the undertaker furnishing the +coffin and the two sets of bearers--who can tell?--whose mission it +was to see the appointed proceedings carried out, cleared by their +hands and gestures a space around the grave. The people fell back +obediently. They pressed and elbowed each other no doubt, and grumbled +at others crushing them; but they kept themselves back in their +places. A small knot, gentlemen evidently, and probably friends of the +deceased, were allowed to approach the grave. The grave-diggers stood +near, holding the torches. But for those flaring torches, the crowd +would have seen better: they saw well enough, however, in the bright +moonlight. + +In the churchyard, having taken up his station there behind an upright +tombstone, where tombstones were thick, stood an officer connected +with the police. He was in plain clothes--in fact, nobody remembered +to have seen him in other ones--and had come out tonight not +officially but to gratify himself personally. Ensconced behind the +stone, away from everybody, he could look on at leisure through its +upper fretwork and take his own observations, not only of the ceremony +about to be performed, but of those who were attending it. He was a +middle-sized, spare man, with a pale face, deeply sunk green eyes, +that had a habit of looking steadily at people, and a small, sharp, +turned-up nose. Silent by nature and by habit, he imparted the idea of +possessing a vast amount of astute keenness as a detector of crime: in +his own opinion he had not in that respect an equal. Nobody could +discern him, and he did not intend they should. + +Amidst a dead silence, save for the creaking of the cords, amidst a +shiver of sympathy, of pity, of awful thoughts from a great many of +the spectators, the black covering was thrown aside and the coffin was +lowered. There was a general lifting off of hats; a pause; and then a +rush. One in the front rank--a fat woman, who had fought for her +place--stepped forward in her irrepressible curiosity to take a last +look inside the grave; another followed her; the movement was +contagious, and there was a commotion. Upon which the men holding the +torches swept them round; it threw out the flame rather dangerously, +and the rushers drew back again with half a cry. Not quite all. A few, +more adventurous than the rest, slipped round to the safer side, and +were in time to read the inscription on the lid: + +"JOHN OLLIVERA. + Aged 28." + +Short enough, and simple enough, for the sad death. Only a moment +after the cords were drawn away did it remain visible; for the +grave-diggers, flinging their torches aside, threw in the earth, +spadeful upon spadeful, and covered it up from sight. + +The shallow grave was soon filled in; the grave-diggers flattened it +down level with spades and feet: no ceremony accorded, you see, to +such an end as this poor man had made. Before it was quite +accomplished, those officially connected with the burial, or with the +buried, left the ground and departed. Not so the mob of people: they +stayed to see the last; and would have stayed had it been until +morning light. And they talked freely now, one with another, but were +orderly and subdued still. + +Mr. Jones stayed. He had not mixed with the people, but stood apart in +the churchyard, under the shade of the great yew-tree. Soon he began +to move away, and came unexpectedly upon the detective officer +standing yet behind the gravestone. Mr. Jones halted in surprise. + +"Halloo!" cried he. "Mr. Butterby!" + +"Just look at them idiots!" rejoined Mr. Butterby, with marked +composure, as if he had seen Richard Jones from the first, and +expected the address. "So _you_ are back!" he added, turning his head +sharply on the traveller. + +"I come in from Bromsgrove on my legs; missed the last train there," +said Mr. Jones, rather addicted to a free-and-easy kind of grammar in +private life: as indeed was the renowned gentleman he spoke to. "When +I got past the last turning and see these here folks, I thought the +world must be gone mad." + +"Did you come back on account of it?" asked Mr. Butterby. "Did they +write for you?" + +"On account of what? As to writing for me, they'd be clever to do +that, seeing I left 'em no address to write to. I have been going +about from place to place; today there, tomorrow yonder." + +"On account of _that_," answered the detective, nodding his head in +the direction of the grave, to which the men were then giving the last +finishing strokes and treads of flattening. + +To Mr. Jones's ear there was something so obscure in the words that he +only stared at their speaker, almost wondering whether the grave +officer had condescended to a joke. + +"I don't understand you, sir." + +Mr. Butterby saw at once how the matter stood: that Dicky Jones--the +familiar title mostly accorded him in the city--was ignorant of recent +events. + +"The poor unfortunate man just put in there, Jones,"--with another nod +to the grave--"was Mr. Ollivera, the counsel." + +"Mr. Ollivera!" exclaimed the startled Jones. + +"And he took his life away at your house." + +"Lawk a mercy!" cried Mr. Jones, repeating his favourite expression, +one he was addicted to when overwhelmed with surprise. "Whatever did +he do it for?" + +"Ah, that's just what we can't tell. Perhaps he didn't know himself +what." + +"How was it, sir? Poison?" + +"Shot himself with his own pistol," briefly responded the officer. + +"And did it knowingly?--intentional?" + +"Intentional for sure, or he'd not have been put in here tonight. They +couldn't have buried a dog with much less ceremony." + +"Well, I never knew such a thing as this," cried Mr. Jones, scarcely +taking in the news yet. "When I went away Mr. Ollivera, hadn't come; +he was expected; and my wife----Halloa!" + +The cause of the concluding exclamation was a new surprise, great as +any the speaker had met with yet. Mr. Butterby, his keen eyes strained +forward from their enclosed depths, touched him on the arm with +authority to enjoin silence. + +The young woman--it would be no offence against taste to call her a +lady, with her good looks, her good manners, her usually calm +demeanour--whom Mr. Jones had recognized as his wife's sister, had +come forward to the grave. Kneeling down, she bent her face in her +hands, perhaps praying; then lifted it, rose, and seemed about to +address the crowd. Her hands were clasped and raised before her; her +bonnet had fallen back from her face and her bright flaxen hair. + +"It _is_ Alletha Rye, isn't it, sir?" he dubiously cried. + +"Hold your noise!" said Mr. Butterby. + +"I think it would be a wicked thing to let you disperse this night +with a false belief on your minds," began Miss Rye, her clear voice +sounding quite loud and distinct in the hushed silence. "Wicked in the +sight of God; unkind and unjust to the dead. Listen to my words, +please, all you who hear me. I believe that a dreadful injury has been +thrown upon Mr. Ollivera's memory; I solemnly believe that _he did not +die by his own hand_. Heaven hears me assert it." + +The solemn tone, the strange words, the fair appearance of the young +woman, with her good and refined face deathly pale now, and the +moonlight playing on her light hair, awed the listeners into something +like statues. The silence continued unbroken until Miss Rye moved +away, which she did at once and with a rather quick step in the +direction of the road, pulling her bonnet on her head as she went, +drawing her shawl round her. Even Mr. Jones made neither sound nor +movement until she had disappeared, so entire was his astonishment. + +"Was there ever heard the like of that?" he exclaimed, when he at +length drew breath. "Do you think she's off her head, sir?" + +He received no answer, and turned to look at Mr. Butterby. That +gentleman had his note-book out, and was pencilling something down in +it by moonlight. + +"I never see such a start as this--take it for all in all," continued +Mr. Jones to himself and the air, thus thrown upon his own +companionship. + +"And I'd not swear that you've seen the last of it," remarked Mr. +Butterby, closing his note-case with a click. + +"Well, sir, goodnight to you," concluded Mr. Jones. "I must make my +way home afore the house is locked up, or I shall get a wigging from +my wife. Sure to get that in any case, now this has happened," he +continued, ruefully. "She'll say I'm always away when I'm wanted at +home in particular." + +He went lightly enough over the graves to the opposite and more +frequented side of the churchyard, thus avoiding the assemblage; and +took his departure. There being nothing more to see, the people began +to take theirs. Having gazed their fill at the grave--just as if the +silent, undemonstrative earth could give them back a response--they +slowly made their way down the side-path to the high-road, and turned +towards the city, one group after another. + +By one o'clock the last straggler had gone, and Mr. Butterby came +forth from his post behind the sheltering gravestone. He had his +reasons, perhaps, for remaining behind the rest, and for wishing to +walk home alone. + +However that might be, he gave their progress a good margin of space, +for it was ten minutes past one when he turned out of the churchyard. +He had just gained the houses, when he saw before him a small knot of +people emerge from a side-turning, as if they had not taken the direct +route in coming from the heart of the city. Mr. Butterby recognized +one or two of them, and whisked into a friendly doorway until they had +passed by. + +Letting them get on well ahead, he turned back and followed in their +wake. That they were on their way to the grave, appeared evident: and +the acute officer wondered why. A thought crossed him that possibly +they might be about to take up what had been laid there. + +He went into the churchyard by the front gate, and made his way +cautiously across it, keeping under the shadow of the grey church +walls. Thence, stooping as he crossed the open ground, and dodging +behind first one grave then another, he took up his former position +against the high stone. They were at the grave now, and he began to +deliberate whether, if his thought should prove correct, he should or +should not officially interrupt proceedings. Getting his eyes to the +open fretwork of the stone, Mr. Butterby looked out. And what he saw +struck him with a surprise equal to any recently exhibited by Mr. +Jones: he, the experienced police official, who knew the world so +thoroughly as to be surprised at little or nothing. + +Standing at the head of the grave was a clergyman in his surplice and +hood. Four men were grouped around him, one of whom held a lantern so +that its light fell upon the clergyman's book. He was beginning to +read the burial service. They stood with bowed heads, their hats off. +The night had grown cold, but Mr. Butterby took off his. + + +"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth +in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth +and believeth in me shall never die." + + +The solemn words doubly solemn at that time and place, came distinctly +to the official ears. Perhaps in all the times he had heard them +during his whole life--many and many that it had been--they had never +so impressed him. But habit is strong; and Mr. Butterby found himself +taking observations ere the psalm had well commenced, even while he +was noticing how heartily the alternate verses were given by the +spectators. + +Three of them around the grave he recognized; the other one and the +clergyman he did not. Of those three, one was a tall, fine man of +forty years, Kene, the barrister; the next was a cousin of the +deceased, Frank Greatorex, whom Mr. Butterby only knew by seeing him +in the inquest-room, where he tendered some slight evidence; the third +was a gentleman of the city. Neither the clergyman nor the one who +held the light did Mr. Butterby remember to have seen before. The +elder and other cousin of the deceased was not present, though Mr. +Butterby looked for him; he had been the principal witness on the +inquest--Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +The officer could but notice also how singularly solemn, slow, and +impressive was the clergyman's voice as he read those portions of the +service that relate more particularly to the deceased and the faith in +which he has died. "In sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to +eternal life." He almost made a pause between each word, as if he +would impress on his hearers that it was his own belief the deceased +had so died. And again, "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." +And towards the end, in the collect, in the beseeching prayer that +when we depart this life we may rest in Christ, "as our hope is this +our brother doth." It was not to be mistaken that the clergyman, at +least, held firm faith in the absence of guilt of the deceased in +regard to his own death. As indeed the reading of the service over him +proved. + +With the Amen of the concluding benediction, there ensued a silence; +every head was bowed in prayer. The clergyman was the first to look +up. He waited until the rest did. + +"Allow me to say a word ere we depart," he began then, in a low tone; +which nevertheless quick-eared Mr. Butterby distinctly caught. "From +the bottom of my heart, I believe a foul deed of murder to have been +committed on my good and dear brother. It shall be the business of my +life to endeavour to bring it to light, to clear his name from the +cruel stain pronounced upon it; and my whole time apart from what must +be spent in my appointed duties, shall be devoted to this end. So help +me, Heaven!" + +"Amen!" responded the young man who stood by Mr. Kene. + +"So! he's the deceased man's brother" was Mr. Butterby's comment on +the clergyman, as he saw him take off his surplice and roll it up. + +Blowing out the light in the lantern, they silently took their +departure. Mr. Butterby watched them away, and then finally took his, +his mind in full work. + +"Just the same thing that the girl, Alletha Rye, said! It's odd. I +didn't see any doubt about the business: in spite of what Kene said at +the inquest; neither did the coroner; and I'm sure the jury didn't. +Dicky Jones was right, though. Take it for all in all, it's the +queerest start we've had in this town for many a day." + + + + +CHAPTER II. +UP TO THE MONDAY EVENING. + + +On the Saturday previous to the events recorded in the last chapter, +the cathedral city had been the scene of unusual bustle. The judges +came in from Oxford to hold the Spring Assize, bringing in their wake +the customary multiplicity of followers: attendants, officers, +barristers, and others. Some of the witnesses in the different cases +to be tried, civil and criminal also came in that day, to remain until +they should be wanted the following week: so that the town was full. + +Amidst the barristers who arrived was Mr. Ollivera. He was a young +man; and it was only the second time he had come on circuit. After +leaving college he had travelled a good deal, and also sojourned in +different foreign countries, acquiring legal experience, and did not +take up his profession at home as early as some do. A fresh-coloured, +pleasing, bright looking man was he, his curly hair of a light auburn, +his eyes blue, his figure elastic and of middle height. All the world +liked John Ollivera. He was essentially of a practical nature, of +sound sense, of pure mind and habits, holding a reverence for all +things holy; and in every respect just the last man who could have +been suspected of a tendency to lay violent hands on himself. + +He had written to secure his former lodgings at Mr. Jones's in High +Street, and proceeded to them at once on arriving at the station. It +was the third time he had lodged there. At the previous assizes in +July he had gone there first; and the whole of the month of October, +during the long vacation, he had been there again, having, as people +supposed, taken a liking to the town. So that this was the third time. + +He got in between six and seven on the Saturday evening. Ordered tea +and two mutton chops, which were got for him at once, and then went +out to pay a visit to a lady who lived within the precincts of the +cathedral. She was a widow; her husband, Colonel Joliffe, having died +about a year before, leaving her with a slender income and three +expensive daughters. During the colonel's lifetime they had lived in +good style, about two miles from the town; but a great part of his +means died with him, and Mrs. Joliffe then took a small house in the +city and had to retrench in all her ways. Which was a terrible +mortification to the young ladies. + +To this lady's house Mr. Ollivera took his way when his frugal dinner +was over. He spent a couple of hours with them, and then returned to +his rooms and got out his law papers, over which he remained until +twelve o'clock, when he went to bed. He occupied the drawing-room, +which was on the first floor over the shop, and looked to the street; +and the bedroom behind it. On the following day, Sunday, he attended +early prayers in the cathedral at eight o'clock, staying to partake of +the Sacrament, and also the later service at eleven, when the judges +and corporation were present. In the afternoon he attended the +cathedral again, going to it with the Miss Joliffes; dined at home at +five, which was also Mrs. Joliffe's dinner hour, and spent the rest of +the evening at her house. Mrs. Jones, his landlady, who had a vast +amount of shrewd observation--and a shrewd tongue too on occasions, as +well as a sharp one--gave it as her opinion that he must be courting +one of the Miss Joliffes. He had been with them a little in his few +days' sojourn at the July assizes, and a great deal with them during +his stay in October. + +On Monday morning the trials commenced, and Mr. Ollivera, though he +had no cause on, was in court a great portion of the day. He left it +in the afternoon, telling Mr. Kene that he had an appointment for +half-past three, a disagreeable commission that had been entrusted to +him, he added, and must go and keep it. About half-past four he +appeared at his rooms; Mrs. Jones met him in the hall, and spoke to +him as he went upstairs. When his dinner was sent up at five, the maid +found him buried in a heap of law papers. Hastily clearing a space at +one end of the table, he told her to put the dinner there. In less +than half an hour the bell was rung for the things to be taken away, +and Mr. Ollivera was then bending over his papers again. + +The papers no doubt related to a cause in which he was to appear the +following day. It was a civil action, touching some property in which +Mrs. Joliffe was remotely though not actively interested. The London +solicitors were the good old firm of Greatorex and Greatorex; Mr. +Ollivera was a relative of the house; nephew of old Mr. Greatorex, in +fact; and to him had been confided the advocacy of the cause. The name +of the local solicitor it does not signify to mention. It was not a +very important cause: but a new barrister thinks all his causes +important, and Mr. Ollivera was an earnest, painstaking man, sparing +himself no trouble that could conduce to success. He had declined a +proffered dinner engagement for that evening, but accepted an +invitation for the next. So much was known of his movements up to the +Monday evening. + +On that same evening, Mr. Bede Greatorex arrived at the station by the +six o'clock train from London; took a fly, and was driven to the Star +and Garter Hotel. He was the son of old Mr. Greatorex, and the second +partner in the firm. His journey down had reference to the next day's +action: something new had unexpectedly arisen; some slight information +been gained of a favourable nature, and Mr. Greatorex, senior, had +despatched his son to confer with Mr. Ollivera in preference to +writing or telegraphing. Bede Greatorex was nothing loth, and entered +on his flying journey with high good-humour, intending to be back in +London by the following midday. He was a tall, fine-looking man, in +face not unlike Mr. Ollivera, except that his hair and eyes were dark, +and his complexion a clear, pale olive; his age about thirty-four. The +cousins were cordial friends. + +On arriving at the Star and Garter he declined refreshment then, +having taken an early dinner before leaving town and asked to be +directed to Mr. Ollivera's lodgings in High Street: which was readily +done, High Street being in a direct line with the hotel. Mr. Bede +Greatorex gained the house, and found it to be one of commodious +proportions, the lower part occupied as a hosier's shop, whose windows +were of plate-glass. Over the door in the middle was inscribed +"Richard Jones, hosier and patent shirt-front maker." There was a side +entrance, wide and rather handsome; the house altogether being a good +one. Ringing at the side bell, he inquired of the answering servant +for Mr. Ollivera, and was at once shown up to him. + +Mr. Ollivera was seated at the table, his back to the door. The papers +he had been engaged upon were neatly stacked now, as if done with; he +appeared to be writing a note; and a pistol lay at his elbow. All this +was shown both to Mr. Bede Greatorex and the maid, by the bright flame +of the moderator lamp; then lighted. + +"Well, John!" cried the visitor, in a gay, laughing tone, before the +girl could speak. "Don't be surprised at seeing me." + +Mr. Ollivera turned round at the voice and evidently was surprised: +surprised and pleased. + +"Why, Bede!" he cried, starting up. "I'd as soon have expected to see +a ghost." + +They shook hands heartily, and Mr. Bede Greatorex sat down. The maid, +to save coming up again to ask, took the opportunity of inquiring when +Mr. Ollivera would like tea; and was answered that he might not want +any; if he did, he'd ring: he might be going out. As the servant shut +the door she heard the visitor begin to explain his errand, and that +his father had sent him in preference to writing. Her ears were always +full of curiosity. + +In about an hour's time, Mr. Bede Greatorex departed. A young man +belonging to the house, Alfred Jones, who happened to be passing up +the stairs when Mr. Greatorex was quitting the drawing-room, heard +that gentleman make an appointment with Mr. Ollivera for the morning. + +Mr. Bede Greatorex walked back to the hotel, ordered a fire made in +his bedroom against night, took a glass of brandy-and-water, for he +felt cold, washed the travelling dust off his face and hands, which he +had not done before, had his coat brushed, and went out again. It was +nine o'clock then, and he bent his steps quickly towards the cathedral +to call on Mrs. Joliffe, having to inquire the way. It took him +through High Street again, and as he passed his cousin's lodgings, the +same servant who had shown him in was standing at the front-door, +recognized him and dropped a curtsey. + +In the drawing-room with Mrs. Joliffe were her three daughters, +Louisa, Clare, and Mary; some three or four friends were also +assembled. They were astonished to see Mr. Bede Greatorex: none of +them knew him well, except Louisa, who had paid a long visit to his +father's house the previous year. She changed colour when he was +announced: and it may have been that his voice took a tenderer tone as +it addressed her; his hand lingered longer in clasping hers than it +need have done. She was an excessively fashionable young lady: not +very young, perhaps six or seven-and-twenty: and if Bede Greatorex +coveted her for a wife it was to be hoped his pockets were well lined. +He spoke just a word to Mrs. Joliffe of having come down on a mission +to Mr. Ollivera; not stating explicitly what it was; and said he was +going back home in the morning. + +"We are expecting Mr. Ollivera here tonight," observed Mrs. Joliffe. +"He is late." + +"Are you?" was the reply of Mr. Greatorex. "John said he might be +going out, I remember, but I did not know it was to your house. Don't +make too sure of him, Mrs. Joliffe, he seemed idle, and complained of +headache." + +"I suppose he is busy," remarked Mrs. Joliffe. "All you law people are +busy at assize time." + +"Louisa, is it as it should be between us?" whispered Bede Greatorex, +in an opportunity that occurred when they were alone near the piano. + +"Don't be silly, Mr. Greatorex," was the answer. + +"Silly!" + +She bent her bead, not speaking. + +"What do you mean, Louisa? Our engagement was entered upon +deliberately: you gave me every hope. You cannot play with me now. +Speak, Louisa." + +He had taken possession of her hand, and was keeping her before him; +his dark eyes, gleaming with their doubt and love, looked straight +into hers. + +"What?" she faintly asked. "Why do you question it?" + +"Because your manner is strange: you have avoided me ever since I came +in." + +"The surprise was so great." + +"Surely a pleasant surprise. I intended it as such. Do you suppose I +should have cared to come down on this business to Mr. Ollivera, when +writing would have answered every purpose? No: I came to see you. And +to learn why----" + +"Not now. Don't you see mamma is looking at me?" + +"And what though she is? I should have liked to speak to your mother +tonight, but for----" + +"Not tonight. I pray you not tonight. Take another opportunity." + +The words reassured him. + +"Then, Louisa, it is all right between us." + +"Yes, yes, of course it is. You offended me, Bede, last January, and +I--I have been vexed. I'll write to you as soon as you get back home, +and explain everything." + +He pressed her hand with a lingering touch, and then released it. +There was nothing in the wide world so coveted by Bede Greatorex as +that false hand of hers: as many things, fair outside, false within, +are coveted by us poor mortals, blind at the best. But Miss Joliffe +looked half scared as she left him for a safer part of the room; her +eyes and manner were alike restless. Bede followed her, and they were +talking together at intervals in an undertone during the rest of the +evening. Louisa being evidently ill at ease, but striving to conceal +it. + +At a quarter to eleven Mr. Bede Greatorex took his departure. In +passing up High Street, his cousin's lodgings were on the opposite +side of the way. He momentarily halted and stepped off the pavement as +if he would have crossed to go in, and then hesitated, for the +sitting-room was in darkness. + +"The light's out: he's gone to bed, I dare say," said Mr. Greatorex, +speaking aloud. "No good to disturb him." And a tradesman, who +happened to be fastening his side-door and had got it about an inch +open, overheard the words Mr. Greatorex having doubtless been quite +unaware that he spoke to an auditor. + +Towards the top of High Street he met Mr. Kene, the barrister. The +latter, after expressing some surprise at seeing him, and assuming he +had come direct from Mr. Ollivera's, asked whether the latter was in. + +"In and in bed," replied Mr. Greatorex. + +"Indeed! Why it's not eleven o'clock." + +"At any rate, there's no light in his room, or I should have gone up. +He complained of headache: perhaps he has gone to bed early to sleep +it off." + +"I want to see him particularly," said the barrister. "Are you sure he +is in bed?" + +"You can go and ascertain, Kene. Ring the people of the house up, +should they have gone to bed too. I could see no light anywhere." + +Mr. Kene did not care to ring people up, and decided to leave his +business with Mr. Ollivera until the morning. He had been dining with +some fellows he said, and had no idea how the time was running on. +Linking his arm within that of Bede Greatorex, they walked together to +the Star, and there parted. Mr. Greatorex went up at once to his +chamber, stirred the fire into a blaze, rang for the waiter, and +ordered another glass of hot brandy-and-water. + +"I think I must have taken cold," he observed to the man when it was +brought to him. "There has been a chill upon me ever since I came +here." + +"Nothing more likely, sir," returned the waiter. "Them trains are such +draughty things." + +However Mr. Greatorex hoped he should be all right in the morning. He +gave directions to be called at a quarter before eight, and the night +wore on. + +Some time before that hour chimed out from the cathedral clock, when +the morning had come, he found himself aroused by a knocking at his +door. A waiter, speaking from the outside, said that something had +happened to Mr. Ollivera. Mr. Bede Greatorex, thinking the words odd, +and not best pleased to be thus summarily disturbed, possibly from +dreams of Louisa Joliffe, called out from the downy pillow (in rather +a cross tone, it must be confessed) to know _what_ had happened to Mr. +Ollivera: and was answered that he was dead. + +Springing out of bed, and dressing himself quickly, Bede Greatorex +went downstairs, and found that Kene, who had brought the news, was +gone again, leaving word that he had gone back to High Street. Mr. +Greatorex hastened to follow. + +The tale to be told was very singular, very sad, and Bede Greatorex +could not help shivering as he heard it. His cold was upon him still. +It appeared that nothing more had been seen or heard of Mr. Ollivera +after Mr. Greatorex left him the previous evening. Mrs. Jones, the +mistress of the house, had gone out at seven, when the shop closed, to +sit by the bed-side of a dying relative; her sister, Miss Rye, was +also out: the maid left in charge, the only servant the house kept, +had taken the opportunity to spend _her_ time in the street; standing +now at her own door, now at other doors half a score yards off, as she +could get neighbours' servants to gossip with. About half-past ten it +occurred to the maid that she might as well go up and inquire if Mr. +Ollivera wanted anything: perhaps the fact of his not having rung at +all struck her as singular. She knew he had not gone out, or she must +have seen him, for she had contrived to keep a tolerably steady +lookout on the street door, however far she had wandered from it. Up +she went, knocked at the door, got no answer, opened it, saw that the +room was in darkness, and regarded it as a sure proof that Mr. +Ollivera had left the room for the night, for he never put the lamp +out in any other case. + +"He's gone to bed early tonight," thought the girl, shutting the door +again. "I hope to goodness he didn't ring, and me not hear it. +Wouldn't missis fly out at me!" + +And when Mrs. Jones came in, as she did soon after the girl got +downstairs again, and inquired after Mr. Ollivera, she was told he had +gone to bed. + +Now it appeared that Miss Rye sat over the sitting-room fire (a +parlour behind the shop, underneath Mr. Ollivera's bedroom) for some +time after the rest of the house had retired to rest. When at length +she went to bed, she was unable to sleep. Towards morning she dropped +into a doze and was awakened (according to her own account) by a +dream. A very vivid dream, that startled and unnerved her. She dreamt +she saw Mr. Ollivera in his sitting-room--dead. And, as she seemed to +look at him, a terrible amount of self-reproach, far greater than any +she could ever experience in life, rushed over her mind, for not +having gone in earlier to discover him. It was this feeling that awoke +her: it had seemed that he cast it on her, that it came out direct to +her from his dead presence, cold and lifeless though he was. So real +did it all appear, that for some minutes after Miss Rye awoke, she +could not believe it to be only a dream. Turning to look at her watch +she saw it was half-past six, and the sun had risen. An early riser +always, for she had to get her living by dressmaking, Miss Rye got up +and dressed herself: but she could not throw off the impression made +upon her; and a little before seven she went down and opened the door +of Mr. Ollivera's sitting-room. Not so much to see whether it might be +true or not, as to show to herself by ocular demonstration that it was +not true: she might forget the impression then. + +But it was true. What was Miss Rye's horror and astonishment at seeing +him, Mr. Ollivera, there! At the first moment of opening the door, she +observed nothing unusual. The white blinds were down before the +windows; the tables, chairs, and other furniture were as customary; +but as she stood looking in, she saw in an easy-chair near the table, +whose back was towards her, the head of Mr. Ollivera. With a strange +bounding-on of all her pulses; with a dread fear at her heart, that +caused it to cease beating, Miss Rye went in and looked at him, and +then flew out of the room, uttering startled cries. + +The cries arose the house. Mrs. Jones, the young man Alfred Jones, and +the servant-maid came flocking forth: the two former were nearly +dressed; the maid had been about her work downstairs. Mr. Ollivera lay +back in the easy-chair, dead and cold. The right arm hung down over +the side, and immediately underneath it on the carpet, looking as if +it had dropped from the hand, lay the discharged pistol. + +The servant and Alfred Jones ran two ways: the one for a doctor, the +other to Mr. Kene the barrister, who had been intimate with Mr. +Ollivera; Mrs. Jones, a shrewd, clever woman, locking the room up +exactly as it was, until they should arrive. + +But now, by a singular coincidence, it happened that Mr. Butterby, +abroad betimes, was the first to meet the running servant-maid, and +consequently, he was first on the scene. The doctor and Mr. Kene came +next, and then Bede Greatorex. Such was the story as it greeted Bede's +ears. + +On the table, just as both he and the servant had seen them the night +before, were the neatly-stacked law papers. Also a folded legal +document that had been brought from town by himself, Bede Greatorex. +There were also pens, ink, and a sheet of note-paper, on which some +lines were written. They were as follows:-- + + +"My Dear Friend,--It is of no use. Nothing more can be done. Should I +never see you again, I beg you once for all to believe me when I say +that I _have_ made efforts, though they have been ineffectual. And when + +"The pistol is ready to my hand. Goodbye." + + +The first portion of this letter, up to the point of the abrupt +breaking off, was written in Mr. Ollivera's usual steady hand. The +latter portion was scrawling, trembling, and blotted; the writing +bearing but a faint resemblance to the rest. Acute Mr. Butterby +remarked that it was just the kind of writing an agitated man might +pen, who was about to commit an evil deed. There was no clue as to +whom the note had been intended for, but it appeared to point too +evidently to the intention of self-destruction. Nevertheless, there +was one at least who doubted. + +"Is it so, think you?" asked Mr. Kene, in a low tone, as he stood by +the side of Bede Greatorex, who was mechanically turning over the +papers on the table one by one. + +"Is it what?" asked Bede, looking up, his tone sharp with pain. + +"Self-destruction. There never lived a man less likely to commit it +than your cousin, John Ollivera." + +"As I should have thought," returned Mr. Greatorex. "But if it is not +that, what else can it be?" + +"There is one other possible solution, at least: putting any idea of +accident aside." + +The supposition of accident had not occurred to Bede Greatorex. A +gleam of surprised cheerfulness crossed his face. + +"Do you indeed think it could have been an accident, Kene? Then----" + +"No; I think it could not have been," interrupted the barrister. "I +said, putting the idea of that aside: it is the most improbable of +any. I alluded to the other alternative." + +Mr. Greatorex understood his meaning, and shrunk from its +unpleasantness. "Who would harm Ollivera, Kene? He had not an enemy in +the world." + +"So far as we know. But I declare to you, Greatorex, I think it the +more likely thing of the two." + +Bede Greatorex shook his head. The facts, so far as they were yet +disclosed, seemed decisive and unmistakable. + +They passed into the bedroom. It was all just as the servant had left +it the past evening, ready for the occupation of Mr. Ollivera. On a +small table lay his Prayer-book, and the pocket Bible he was wont to +carry with him in travelling. Bede Greatorex felt a sudden faintness +steal over him as he looked, and leaned for a few moments against the +wall. + +But he had no time for indulging grief. He went out, inquiring for the +telegraph office, and sent a message with the news to his father in +town, softening it as well as circumstances allowed: as we all like to +do at first when ill news has to be told. He simply stated that John +(the familiar name Mr. Ollivera was known by at home) had died +suddenly. The message brought down his brother, Frank Greatorex, some +hours later. + +To say that the town was thrown into a commotion almost equal to that +of Mrs. Jones's house, would be superfluous. A young barrister, known +to many of the inhabitants, who had come in with the judges only on +Saturday; who was to have led in a cause in the Nisi Prius Court on +that very morning, Tuesday, and to be junior in another cause set down +for Wednesday, in which Mr. Kene, the experienced and renowned Queen's +Counsel, led, had been found dead! And by such a death! It took the +public by storm. Mrs. Jones's shop was besieged to an extent that she +had to put up her shutters; High Street was impassable: and all those +in the remotest degree connected with the deceased or with the +circumstances, were followed about and stared at as though they were +wild animals. Five hundred conjectures were hazarded and spoken: five +hundred tales told that had no foundation. Perhaps the better way to +collect the various items of fact together for the reader, will be to +transcribe some of the evidence given before the coroner. The inquest +was fixed to take place on the Wednesday morning, in the club-room of +an inn lying conveniently near. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +BEFORE THE CORONER. + + +The coroner and jury assembled at an unusually early hour, for the +convenience of Mr. Kene, who wished to be present. It had been thought +that the only brother of the deceased, a clergyman, would have come +down; but he had not arrived. After viewing the body, which lay still +at Mrs. Jones's, the proceedings commenced. Medical testimony was +given as to the cause of death--a pistol-shot that had penetrated the +heart. The surgeon, Mr. Hurst, who had been called in at the first +discovery on Tuesday morning, stated that to the best of his belief, +death (which must have been instantaneous) had taken place early the +previous evening, he should say about seven or eight o'clock. And this +view was confirmed in rather a singular manner. Upon examining the +quantity of oil in the lamp, which Mrs. Jones had herself filled, it +was seen that it could not have burnt very much more than an hour: +thus leaving it to be inferred that the deceased had put it out before +committing the rash deed, and that it must have been done shortly +after Mr. Bede Greatorex left him. + +Alletha Rye was called. She spoke to the fact of finding Mr. Ollivera, +dead; and electrified the court, when questioned as to why she had +gone to the sitting-room, seeing that it was an entirely unusual thing +for her to do, by saying that she went in to see whether Mr. Ollivera +was there dead, or not. In the quietest, most composed manner +possible, she related her singular dream, saying it had sent her to +the room. + +"Surely," said the coroner, "you did not expect to see Mr. Ollivera +dead?" + +"I cannot say I did! I went rather to convince myself that he was +_not_ there dead," was the witness's answer. "But the dream had been +so vivid that I could not shake it from my mind; it made me uneasy, +although my better reason did not put any faith in it whatever that it +could be true. That is why I went to the room. And Mr. Ollivera lay +dead in his chair, exactly as I had seen him in my dream." + +The coroner, a practical man, did not know what to make of this +statement: such evidence had never been tendered him before, and he +eyed the witness keenly. To see her stand there in her black robes, +tall, upright, of really dignified demeanour, with her fair features +and good looks--but there were dark circles round her eyes today, and +the soft colour had left her cheeks--to hear her tell of this in her +sensible, calm accents, was something marvellous. + +"Were you at home on Monday night?" asked the coroner. And it may as +well be remarked that some of the questions put by him during the +inquest, miscellaneous queries that did not appear to be quite in +order, or have much to do with the point in question, had very +probably their origin in the various rumours that had reached him, and +in the doubt breathed into his ears by Mr. Kene. The coroner did not +in the least agree with Mr. Kene; rather pitied the barrister as a +visionary, for allowing himself to glance at such a doubt; but he was +fond of diving to the bottom of things. Living in the same town, +knowing all the jury personally, in the habit of exchanging a word of +news with Mrs. Jones whenever he met her, the coroner may have been +excused if the proceedings were slightly irregular, involving some +gossip as well as law. + +"No," replied the witness. "Except that I ran in for a few minutes. I +had been at work that afternoon at a neighbour's, helping her to make +a gown. I went in home to get a pattern." + +"What time was that?" + +"I cannot be particular as to the exact time. It must have been nearly +eight." + +"Did you see the deceased then?" + +"No. I did not see any one except the servant. She was standing at the +open street door. When I had been upstairs to get what I wanted I went +out again." + +"Did you hear any noise as you passed Mr. Ollivera's rooms?" + +"Not any. I do not know anything more of the details, sir, than I have +told you." + +The next witness called was Mr. Bede Greatorex. He gave his evidence +clearly, but at portions of it was evidently under the influence of +some natural emotion, which he contrived to suppress. A man does not +like to show such. + +"My name is Bede Greatorex. I am the son of Mr. Greatorex, the +well-known London solicitor, and second partner in the firm Greatorex +and Greatorex. The deceased, John Ollivera, was my cousin, his father +and my mother having been brother and sister. A matter of business +arose connected with a cause to be tried in the Nisi Prius Court, in +which Mr. Ollivera was to be the leading counsel, and my father +despatched me down on Monday to communicate with him. I arrived by the +six o'clock evening train, and was with him before half-past six. We +held a business conference together; I stayed about an hour with him, +and then went back to my hotel. I never afterwards saw him alive." + +"I must put a few questions to you with your permission, Mr. +Greatorex, for the satisfaction of the jury," observed the coroner. + +"Put as many as you like, sir; I will answer them to the best of my +ability," was the reply. + +"First of all--what was the exact hour at which you reached Mr. +Ollivera's rooms?" + +"I should think it must have been about twenty minute after six. The +train got in to time, six o'clock; I took a fly to the Star and +Garter, and from thence walked at once to Mr. Ollivera's lodgings, the +people at the hotel directing me. The whole could not have taken above +twenty minutes." + +"And how long did you remain with him?" + +"An hour: perhaps rather more. I should think I left him about +half-past seven. I was back at the hotel by quarter to eight, having +walked slowly, looking at the different features of the streets as I +passed. I had never been in the town before." + +"Well, now, Mr. Greatorex, what was the manner of the deceased while +you were with him? Did you perceive anything unusual?" + +"Nothing at all. He was just as he always was, and very glad to see +me. We"--the witness paused to swallow his emotion--"we had ever been +the best of friends and companions. I thought him a little quiet, +dull. As he sat, he bent his forehead on his hand and complained of +headache, saying it had been close in court that day." + +("True enough," murmured Mr. Kene.) + +"The news you brought down to him was not bad news?" questioned the +coroner. + +"Quite the contrary. It was good: favourable to our cause." + +"Did you see him write the note found on his table, or any portion of +it?" + +"When the servant showed me into the room, he appeared to be writing a +note. As he sat down after shaking hands with me, he put the blotting +paper over what he had written. He did not take it off again, or write +at all while I remained." + +"Was it the same note, think you, that was afterwards found?" + +"I should think it likely. I noticed that some few lines only were +written. About"--the witness paused a moment--"about the same quantity +as in the first portion of the note." + +"Did he put the blotting paper over it to prevent you seeing it, do +you suppose, Mr. Greatorex?" + +"I do not know. I thought he was only afraid it might get blotted. The +ink was wet." + +"Did any one come in while you were with him?" + +"No. I wished him goodnight, intending to see him in the morning, and +was shown out by some young man." + +"Do you know to whom that note was written?" + +"I have not the slightest idea. Neither do I know to what it alludes." + +"Then--your theory, I presume, is--that he added that blotted +concluding line after your departure? In fact, just when he was on the +point of committing the rash act?" + +"I do not see what else can be believed. The pen lay across the words +when found, as if thrown there after writing them, and appeared to +have caused the blots." + +"Did he say anything to you about any appointment he had kept that +afternoon?" + +"Not anything." + +"And now about the pistol, Mr. Greatorex. Did you see one on the +table!" + +"Yes." + +"Did it not strike you as singular that it should be there?" + +"Not at all. Mr. Ollivera never travelled anywhere without a pistol; +it was a fancy he had. Some years ago, when in a remote part of Spain, +he was attacked in his chamber at night, robbed, and rather seriously +hurt; since then he has when travelling taken a pistol with him. I +asked him what brought it on the table, and he said he had been +putting a drop of oil on the lock. + +"Did you know that it was loaded?" + +"I did not. I really did not think much about it one way or the other. +We were busy over the business on which I came down: and I knew as I +have said, that he used to carry a pistol with him when travelling." + +"Then--in point of fact, Mr. Greatorex, you can throw no positive +light on this affair for us?" + +The witness shook his head. "I wish I could. I have told you all I +know." + +"Do you think there can be any reasonable doubt--any doubt +whatever--that he committed suicide?" + +"I fear there can be none," replied Mr. Greatorex, in a low tone, and +he shivered perceptibly as he gave it. It was a crime which Bede +Greatorex had always held in shrinking, pitying abhorrence. + +"One question more, and then we will release you and thank you for the +clear manner in which you have given your evidence," said the coroner. +"Did you see cause to suspect in that last interview that his mind was +otherwise than in a sane state?" + +"Oh no; certainly not." + +"It was calm and clear as usual, for all you saw?" + +"Quite so." + +"Stay. There is one other point. Was the deceased in any kind of +embarrassment, so far as your cognizance goes, pecuniary, or else?" + +"I feel quite sure that he was in no pecuniary embarrassment +whatever," returned the witness warmly, anxious to do justice to his +cousin's memory. "As to any other kind of embarrassment, I cannot +speak. I am aware of none; and I think he was one of the least likely +men to get into any." + +That was all. Mr. Greatorex bowed to the coroner and gave place to +another witness. A little dark woman in black, with an old-fashioned +black chip bonnet on, and silver threads beginning to mix with her +black hair; but her eyebrows were very black still. Certainly no two +women could present a greater contrast in appearance than she and Miss +Rye, although they were sisters. + +"Your name is Julia Jones," began the coroner's man, who knew Mrs. +Jones intimately in private life. + +"Yes, it _is_ Julia Jones," emphatically replied the lady, in a tart +voice, and with an accent on the "Jones," as if the name grated on her +tongue. And Mrs. Jones was sworn. + +After some preliminary evidence, touching Mr. Ollivera's previous +visits to her, and the length of time he had stayed, which she entered +upon of her own accord and was not checked, Mrs. Jones was asked what +she knew of the calamity. How it was first brought to her knowledge. + +"The first was through my sister, Alletha Rye shrieking out from the +first-floor landing below, a little before seven o'clock on Tuesday +morning," responded Mrs. Jones, in the same tart tone; which was, in +fact, habitual to her. "I was in my bedroom, the front room on the +second floor, dressed up to my petticoat, and out I flew, thinking she +must be on fire. She said something about Mr. Ollivera, and I ran +down, and saw him lying in the chair. Jones's nephew, in his waistcoat +and shirtsleeves, and his face all in a lather, for he was shaving, +got into the room when I did." + +"When did you see the deceased last, Mrs. Jones?" was the next +question put, after the witness had described the appearance of the +room, the pistol on the carpet, the blotted note on the table, the +quantity of oil in the lamp, and so forth. + +"When did I see him last? why on the Monday afternoon, when he came in +from court," responded Mrs. Jones. "I was crossing the hall at the +foot of the stairs, between the parlour and the shop, as he came in. +He looked tired, and I said so; and he answered that he had been about +all day, in the court and elsewhere, and _was_ tired. That's when I +saw him last: never after, till I saw him in his chair, dead." + +"You heard nothing of his movements on that evening?" + +"I wasn't likely to hear it, seeing I went out as soon as the shop was +shut. Before it, in fact, for I left Jones's nephew to put up the +shutters. Old Jenkins is dying, as all the parish knows, and I went to +sit with him and take him some beef-tea. Jones's nephew, he went out +too, to his debating club, as he calls it. And precious debating it +must be," continued Mrs. Jones, with additional tartness, "if the +debaters are all as green and soft as he! Alletha Rye, she was at work +at Mrs. Wilson's: and so, as ill-luck had it, all the house was out." + +"Except your servant, Susan Marks," observed one of the jury. "She was +left at home to keep house, we hear." + +"And in a very pretty manner she did keep it!" retorted Mrs. Jones, as +if she had taken a pint of vinegar to set her teeth on edge; when +Susan Marks, at the back, gave a kind of groan, and burst into fresh +tears. "Up the street here, down the street there, over the way at the +doors yonder, staring, and gossiping, and gampusing--that's how _she_ +kept it. And on an assize night, of all nights in the year, to be +airing her cap in the street, when barristers and other loose +characters are about!" + +The gratuitous compliment paid to the barristers raised a laugh, in +spite of the sad inquiry the court had met upon. Mrs. Jones's epithet +sounded, however, worse to others than to herself. + +"And she could tell me, when I got in just before eleven, that Mr. +Ollivera had gone to bed!" resumed that lady, in intense aggravation: +"which, of course, I believed, and we all went up to our rooms, +suspecting nothing. Let me ever catch her out at the street door +again! home she'll go to Upton Snodsbury." + +Groans from the back, in the vicinity of Susan Marks. + +"Had you known previously, Mrs. Jones, that Mr. Ollivera was in the +habit of bringing with him a loaded pistol?" + +"Yes; for he told me. One day last October, when I was up dusting his +drawing-room, he had got it out of the case. I said I should not like +to have such a weapon near me, and he laughed at that. He used to keep +it on the chest of drawers in his bedroom: that is, the case; and I +suppose the thing itself was inside." + +"Your husband was not at home when this unfortunate event happened, +Mrs. Jones?" + +"No, he was _not_," assented Mrs. Jones; and it was as if she had +swallowed a whole gallon of vinegar now. "He has been off to Wales +last week and this, and is as likely as not to be there next." + +Another question or two, not of much import, and Mrs. Jones gave +place to her husband's nephew. He was known in the town for a steady, +well-conducted young man, quite trustworthy. He had not very much to +tell. + +"My name is Alfred Jones," he said, "and I live with my uncle, Richard +Jones, as assistant in the shop----" + +"----Which wouldn't want any assistant at all, if Jones stayed at home +and stuck to his duties," put in Mrs. Jones's sharp voice from the +back. Upon which she was admonished to hold her tongue: and the +witness continued. + +"On Monday night, I put up the shutters at seven, as usual in the +winter season; I changed my coat, washed my hands, and went to the +debating club in Goose Lane. Soon after I got there I found I had +forgotten a book that I ought to have taken back to the club's +library. The time for my keeping it was up, and as we are fined +twopence if we keep a book over time, I went back to get it. It was +then half-past seven. The street door was open, and Susan, the +servant, was standing at it outside. As I ran up the stairs, the book +being in my bedroom at the top of the house, I heard the drawing-room +door open just after I passed it; I turned my head, and saw a +gentleman come out. He----" + +"Did you know him, witness?" + +"No, sir, he was a stranger to me. I know him now for Mr. Greatorex. +He was talking to Mr. Ollivera. They were making an appointment for +the next morning." + +"Did you hear what was said?" + +"Yes, sir. As I looked round at the gentleman he was turning his head +back to the room, and said, 'Yes, you may rely upon my coming early; +I'll be here before nine o'clock. Goodnight, John.' Those were, I +think, the exact words, sir." + +"Did you see Mr. Ollivera?" + +"No, sir, he did not come out, and the gentleman only pushed the door +back a little while he spoke. If it had been wide open I couldn't have +seen in; I was too far, some two or three steps up the stairs. I +turned back then to attend Mr. Greatorex to the street door. After +that I ran up for my book, and left the house again. I was not two +minutes in it altogether." + +"Did you see Mr. Ollivera as you came down?" + +"No, sir. The drawing-room door was closed, as Mr. Greatorex had left +it. I never saw or heard of Mr. Ollivera again until Miss Rye's +screams brought me down the next morning. That is all I know." + +"At what hour did you go home on Monday evening?" + +"It was close upon eleven, sir. We generally disperse at half-past ten +but we stayed late that night. Mrs. Jones and Miss Rye had not long +come in, and were in the sitting-room." + +The next witness called was Susan Marks. The young woman, what with +her own heinous offences on the eventful night, the dreadful calamity +itself, and the reproaches of her mistress, had been in a state of +tears ever since, fresh bursts breaking forth at the most unseasonable +times. + +Susan Marks, aged nineteen, native of Upton Snodsbury, cook and +servant-of-all-work to Mrs. Jones. Such was the young woman's report +of herself, as well as could be heard for her sobs and tears. She was +attired neatly and well; in a print mourning gown and straw bonnet +trimmed with black; her face, that would otherwise have been fresh and +clear, had small patches of red upon it, the result of the many tears +and of perpetual rubbing. + +"Now, young woman," said the coroner briskly, as if he thought time +was being lost, "what have you to tell us of the events of Monday +night?" + +"Nothing, sir," replied the young woman, in a fresh burst of grief +that could be called nothing less than a howl. "I never see Mr. +Ollivera at all after I showed the gentleman up to him." + +"Well, let us hear about that. What time was it?" + +"It was past six, sir; I don't know how much. I had washed up Mr. +Ollivera's dinner things, and was putting the plates and dishes on the +dresser shelves, when Mr. Ollivera's bell rang. It was for his lamp, +which I lighted and took in: he always wanted it afore daylight was +well over when he was busy. He seemed in a hurry, and drew down +the window-blinds himself. I lighted the gas-burner outside the +drawing-room door, and went back to the kitchen. No sooner was I +there--leastways it couldn't have been five minutes--when there came a +ring at the street door bell. I went to answer it, and saw a tall +gentleman, who asked for Mr. Ollivera, and I showed him upstairs to +the drawing-room." + +"Who was that gentleman?" + +"It was Mr. Greatorex. But I didn't know him then, sir. I thought it +was a barrister; he didn't give no name." + +"Did you see Mr. Ollivera when you took this gentleman up?" + +"Yes, sir. He was sitting with his back towards us, writing at the +table, and I see the things on it. I hadn't noticed them much when I +took the lamp in. I see the papers put together tidy, which had been +all about when he was at his dinner. I think he was very busy that +evening," urged the witness, as if the fact might plead an excuse for +what afterwards took place: "when I removed the dinner things he told +me to put the sherry wine away on the sideboard; sometimes if he +wanted to drink any, he'd have it left on the table." + +"Did he seem glad to see Mr. Greatorex?" + +"Yes, sir, very. They shook hands, and Mr. Greatorex began telling him +what he had come down about, and said his father had sent him in place +of telegrumming. I asked Mr. Ollivera what time he'd like to have tea, +but he said he didn't know whether he should take any, he might be +going out; if he wanted it, he'd ring. How was I to think, after that, +that I ought to have went up to him, to see how he might be getting +on, which missis has been a going on at me ever since for not doing?" +demanded the witness with a stream of tears. + +"Come, come! there, wipe your face," said one of the jury, with gruff +kindness. And the questions went on, and the witness's replies. + +It was about an hour that Mr. Greatorex stayed, she thought She saw +him come out at the street door, and go away. Well, yes, she _was_ a +yard or two off, at a neighbour's door, next house but one. After +missis went out and the shop was shut, and Alfred Jones went out, and +there wasn't nobody indoors to want her, she thought it no harm to +stand at the street door a bit: and if she did go a step or two away +from it, she never took her eyes off the door, and no person could go +in or out without her seeing them and that she'd swear. She saw Mr. +Greatorex come out and walk away up High Street; and she never heard +no sound in the house whatsoever. + +"Did any one go in?" the coroner asked. + +"No, sir, not a soul--barring Alfred Jones and Miss Rye Alfred Jones +came back after he first went out, saying that he had forgot +something, and he went upstairs to fetch it. He wasn't there no time; +and it was while he was up there that Mr. Greatorex came down and +left. Soon after that, Miss Rye, she come in, and went upstairs, and +was there ever so long." + +"What do you call 'ever so long'?" + +"Well, sir, I'm sure she was there a quarter of an hour," returned the +witness, in a quick, positive sort of tone, as if the fact of Miss +Rye's being there so long displeased her. "I ought to know; and me +a-standing inside the doorsill, afraid to move off it for fear she +should come out." + +"Were you alone?" + +"Well, yes, sir, I was. Mary, the housemaid at the big linendraper's +next door but one, can bear me out that I was, for she was there all +the time, talking to me." + +Perhaps the coroner thought the answer savoured of Hibernianism, for +something like a smile crossed his face. + +"And you heard no sound whatever upstairs all the evening, Susan +Marks? You saw no one, except the persons mentioned, go in or come +out; no stranger?" + +"I never heard no sound, and never saw no stranger at all," said the +witness, earnestly. "I never even saw Godfrey Pitman leave. But I +b'lieve he was away earlier." + +The concluding assertion fell with some surprise on the room; there +ensued a pause, and the coroner lifted his head sharply. Godfrey +Pitman? Who was Godfrey Pitman? + +"Who is Godfrey Pitman, witness?" + +"It was the lodger at the top of the house, sir. He had the front +bedroom there--and a fine dance it was to carry his meals up. Missis +gave him the offer of eating them in the little room off the kitchen, +but I suppose he was too proud to come down. Anyway, he _didn't_ +come." + +"Is he lodging there now?" + +"Oh no, sir, he was only there a week and a day, and left on the +Monday. He was a traveller in the spectacles line, he told me, passing +through the town; which he likewise wore himself sometimes. Well, sir, +I never see him go at all, and he didn't never give me a shilling for +having waited on him and carried his trays up all them stairs." + +The girl had told apparently what she knew, and the coroner requested +Mrs. Jones to come in again. He questioned her about the lodger. + +"It was a person of the name of Pitman," she answered, readily. "He +was only passing through the town, and occupied the room for a week." + +"Who was he?" asked the coroner. "Did you know him?" + +"I didn't know him from Adam," answered Mrs. Jones, tartly; "I didn't +know anything about him. I called him Alletha Rye's lodger, not mine, +for it was she who picked him up. He may have told her all about +himself, for aught I can say: she seemed to take a desperate fancy to +him, and mended his travelling bag. He didn't tell me. Not but what he +seemed a civil, respectable man." + +"When did he leave you, Mrs. Jones?" + +"On Monday, about half-past four, when he took the five o'clock train +for Birmingham. He came to the inner shop door as he was going out, +and thanked me for my kindness, as he called it, in taking him in at a +pitch; he said it was not what every one would do for a stranger. +Neither is it." + +"You are sure he left you at that hour?" + +"Have I got the use of my eyes and senses?" demanded Mrs. Jones. +"Sure! I walked to the side door after him, and saw him go up the +street towards the railway with his blue bag. Of course I am sure. It +was as I crossed the hall, on my way back, that Mr. Ollivera came in, +and I spoke to him as I have told you." + +It was therefore placed beyond doubt that the lodger, Mr. Pitman, +could have no part or act in what took place in the house later. The +coroner would have dismissed the subject summarily, but that one of +the jury, a man who liked to hear himself talk, expressed an opinion +that it might be satisfactory if they questioned Miss Rye. With a +gesture of impatience the coroner called for her. + +She came in, was asked what she knew of Mr. Pitman, and stood before +them in silence, her face a little bent, her forefinger, encased in +its well-fitting black kid glove, pressed lightly on her lip, her +clear blue eye looking out straight before her. It was as if she were +trying to recall something to her memory. + +"I recollect now," she said, after a minute "I could not remember what +took me up by the railway station where I met him. It was on last +Sunday week, in the afternoon. Mrs. Hillman, who lives up there, was +ill, and I had been to see her. As I was leaving her house, towards +dusk, a few passengers were coming down from the station. I stood on +the doorstep until they should have passed; and one of them, who had a +blue bag in his hand, like those that lawyers' clerks carry, stopped +and asked me if I had a room in my house that I could let him occupy +for a week. I supposed he took the house where I stood for mine. He +went on to say he was a traveller and stranger, had never before been +to the town, felt very poorly, and would very much wish to be spared +the bustle of an hotel. I knew that my sister, Mrs. Jones had a +bedroom ready for letting," continued Miss Rye, "and I thought she +might not object to oblige him; he spoke quite as a gentleman, and I +felt rather sorry for him, for he looked haggard and ill. That is how +it happened." + +"And your sister admitted him, and he stayed the week?" cried the +juror. + +"Strictly speaking, I admitted him; for when we reached home I found +Mrs. Jones had gone to sit with old Jenkins for the rest of the day. +So I took it upon myself to do so. On Saturday last Mr. Pitman said he +would, with our permission, remain a day over the week, and leave on +Monday. + +"And did he pay the rent, Miss Rye?" asked the juror, who perhaps had +a doubt on the point. + +"He paid the first week's rent as soon as he was admitted to the +house, and gave a sovereign towards the purchase of his provisions," +was the answer. "What remained he settled for on the Monday, previous +to his departure by the five o'clock train for Birmingham." + +"Who was he, witness? Where did he come from?" + +"I really cannot tell much about him," was Miss Rye's reply. "I +understood him to say he was a traveller; his name, as he wrote it +down for us, was Godfrey Pitman. He was laid up with a bad cold and +relaxed throat all the time he stayed, and borrowed some books of me +to read." + +There appeared to be no further scope for the exercise of the juror's +powers; no possible loophole for bringing this departed Mr. Godfrey +Pitman into connection with the death of Mr. Ollivera; and Miss Rye +was allowed to depart. + +Little more evidence was to be gleaned. Mr. Kene, tendering evidence, +spoke of his long intimacy with the deceased, and of their last +interview, when he was just the same that he ever had been: calm, +cheerful, earnest-purposed. He could not understand, he added, +how it was possible for Mr. Ollivera to have laid violent hands on +himself--unless, indeed, the headache, of which he had complained, had +proceeded from some derangement of the functions of the brain, and +induced temporary insanity. + +But this suggested theory was wholly incompatible with the letter that +had been found, and with Mr. Bede Greatorex's testimony of the sane +mind of the deceased when he quitted him. The jury shook their heads: +keen-eyed Mr. Butterby, looking on unobtrusively from a remote nook of +the room, shook his. + +The inquest drew to a close; the one fatal element in the evidence +being the letter found on the table. The coroner and jury debated upon +their verdict with closed doors, and only re-admitted the public when +they had decided: It did not take them long. + +"Felo-de-se." + +In accordance with the customary usage, a mandate was issued for a +night interment, without Christian rites; and the undertaker promised +to be ready for that same night. + +The crowd filed out of the room, talking eagerly. That it was +undoubtedly a case of self-murder, and that in the most unhappy sense +of the word, none doubted. No, not one: even Mr. Kene began to waver. + +As they were dispersing hither and thither along the street, there +came hastily up a young man in the garb of a clergyman. It was the +Reverend Henry William Ollivera, brother of the deceased gentleman. He +had just arrived by train. In as few words as possible, his cousin, +Frank Greatorex, and Mr. Kene imparted to him some hasty particulars +of the unhappy event. + +"He never did it," said the clergyman, solemnly. "Bede"--for at that +moment Bede Greatorex joined the speakers--"how could you suffer them +to bring in a verdict so horrible?" + +But Mr. Ollivera had not heard the full details yet. By common +consent, as it were, they had not at first told him of the letter. +Bede would not tell it now. Let the worst come out to him by degrees +thought he. + +"I am going up to town," said Bede Greatorex. "If----" + +"And not stay for tonight?" interrupted one of them, in an accent that +savoured of reproach. + +"Nay, I must consider my father," was the grave reply of Bede. "He is +in suspense all this while, waiting for news." + +So they parted. Bede Greatorex hastened to catch the departing train +for London. And the others remained to see the last of the ill-fated +John Ollivera. + +He was carried out of Mr. Jones's in the bright moonlight, soon after +eleven o'clock had struck. Whether intentionally, as best befitting +the scanty ceremony to be performed, or whether in accidental +forgetfulness the undertaker had failed to provide a covering for the +coffin. And Mrs. Jones, with sundry sharp and stinging words of +reprimand to the man, as it was in the nature of Mrs. Jones's tongue +to give, brought down a long woollen black scarf-shawl, and helped to +spread it over the coffin with her own hands. + +Thus the procession started, preceded by many curious gazers, followed +by more, Alletha Rye stealing on amidst the latter number; and so went +on to the place of interment. + +You have seen what took place there. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +GOING HOME WITH THE NEWS. + + +In the vicinity of Bedford Square, so near to it that we may as well +designate the locality by that name throughout the story, stood the +large professional residence of Greatorex and Greatorex. It was large +in every sense of the word; both as to the size of the house, and to +the extent of the business transacted in it. A safe, good, respectable +firm was that of Greatorex and Greatorex, standing as well in the +public estimation as any solicitors could stand; and deservedly so, +Mr. Greatorex was a man of nice honour; upright, just, trustworthy. He +would not have soiled his hands with what is technically called dirty +work; if any client wanted underhand business done, swindling work +(although it might be legal) that would not bear the light of day, he +need not take it to Greatorex and Greatorex. + +The head of the firm, John Greatorex, was still in what many call the +prime of life. He was fifty-eight, active and energetic. Marrying when +he was very young, he really did not look a great deal older than his +son Bede. And Bede was not his first-born. The eldest son had entered +the army; he was in India now, Captain Greatorex. _He_ also had +married young, and his little daughter and only child had been sent +home to her grand-parents in accordance with the prevailing custom. + +The wife of Mr. Greatorex had been Miss Ollivera, sister to the father +of John Ollivera, the barrister, whose sad end has been lately +recorded. Mrs. Greatorex had fallen into ill-health or some time past +now; in fact, she was slowly dying of an incurable complaint. But for +not liking to leave her, Mr. Greatorex might have hastened down as +soon as the sad news reached him of his nephew's premature end. I say +he "might;" but Mr. Greatorex was, himself, only recovering from an +attack of illness, and was scarcely strong enough to travel. And so he +waited at home with all the patience he could call up, understanding +nothing but that his nephew John, who had been as dear to him as were +his own children, was dead. His children had been many: eight. James +(Captain Greatorex), the eldest; Bede the second, one year younger; +next came two daughters, who were married and away; then a son, +Matthew, who was working his way to competency in Spain; the two next +had died, and Francis was the youngest. The latter, called Frank +always, was in the house in Bedford Square, but not yet made a +partner. + +The young barrister just dead, John Ollivera, left no relations to +mourn for him, except his brother Henry William, and the Greatorex +family. The two brothers had to make their own way in the world, their +uncle Mr. Greatorex helping them to do it; the elder one choosing the +Bar (as you have seen); Henry William, the Church. John had his +chambers in Lincoln's Inn, and would certainly have risen into note +had he lived: Henry William was a curate. + +Three o'clock was striking in London on Wednesday afternoon, as a +train slackened its speed and drew into the Paddington terminus. One +of the first of its passengers to alight was Mr. Bede Greatorex. He +had a small black bag in his hand, and jumped with it into a hansom +cab. + +"Bedford Square!" + +The cabman answered with a nod as he touched his hat. He had driven +Mr. Bede Greatorex before, who was sufficiently well known in London. +Instead, however, of being permitted to dash up to the well-known +door, the man found himself stopped a few yards short of it. + +"I'll get out here," said Bede Greatorex. + +Paying the fare, he went on with his bag, and glanced up at the +windows as he crossed to the house. All the blinds were down. It was a +very large house: it had been two originally. In the old, old days, +some thirty or more years ago, Mr. Greatorex had rented only one of +the houses. As his family and business increased, he bought the one he +occupied and the next adjoining, and made them into one. There were +two entrances still; the one pertained to the house and Mrs. +Greatorex; the other was the professional entrance. The rooms on the +ground floor--and there were several--were taken up by the business; +one of them, looking to the garden, was the sitting-room of Mr. +Greatorex. + +Bede went to the private entrance, and let himself in with his +latchkey. Lodging his small bag at the foot of the handsome staircase, +he walked through some passages to his father's sitting-room, which +was empty. Retracing his steps he went upstairs; a maidservant +happened to meet him on the first landing; he handed her the bag and +opened the door of the dining-room. A spacious, well-fitted up +apartment, its paper white and gold, with streaks of crimson slightly +intermingled to give it colour. + +Mr. Greatorex was there. He sat over the fire and had fallen asleep. +It surprised Bede: for Mr. Greatorex was a man not given to idleness +or indulgence of any kind. Indeed, to see him sitting upstairs in the +day time was an event almost unknown. Bede closed the door again +softly. There was a haggard look in the elder man's face, partly the +effect of his recent illness; and Bede would not disturb him. + +Outside the door, he stood a moment in hesitation. It was a spacious +landing-place, something like an upper hall. The floor was carpeted +with dark green; painted windows--yellow, blue, crimson--threw down a +bright light of colour; there was a small conservatory at one end, +containing odoriferous plants on which the sun was shining; and a +chaste statue or two imparted still life to the whole. + +Bede hesitated. None but himself knew how horribly he hated and +dreaded the tale he had to tell about poor John Ollivera. All the way +up he had been rehearsing to himself the manner in which he should +break it for the best, but the plan had gone clean out of his head +now. + +"I'll go up and wash my hands first, at any rate," decided Bede. "The +dust was worse than we had it on Monday." + +Ascending to the second landing, he was quietly crossing it to his own +room, when a door was flung open, and a pretty little girl in blue, +her curling hair bound back with ribbons, came flying out. It was the +daughter of Captain Greatorex. The young lady had naturally a will of +her own; and since her arrival from India, the indulgence lavished on +her had not tended to lessen it. But she was a charming child, and +wonderfully keen. + +"Oh, Bede, have you come back! Grandmamma has been asking for you all +the day." + +"Hush, Jane! I'll go in to grandmamma presently." + +Miss Jane did not choose to "hush." She evaded Bede's hand, flew +across the soft carpet of the landing, and threw open a bedroom door, +calling out that Bede had come. As to styling him Uncle Bede, she had +never done anything of the kind. + +He heard his mother's voice, and could almost have boxed the child's +ears. Back she came again, laying hold of him this time, her saucy +dark brown eyes, grave now, lifted up to his face. + +"Bede, how came John Ollivera to die?" + +"Hush, Jane," he said again. This was precisely the point on which he +did not care to hold present communication with his mother. He wished, +if possible, to spare her; but the little girl was persistent. + +"_Is_ he dead, Bede?" + +"Yes, child, he is dead." + +"Oh, dear! And he can never kiss me again, or bring me new dolls! I +broke the last one in two, and threw it at him." + +Her eyes filled with tears. Bede, deep in thought, put away the little +hands that had fastened on his arms. + +"I liked him better than you, Bede. What made him die?" + +"Bede! Bede! is that you?" called out his mother. + +Bede had to go in. Mrs. Greatorex was on the sofa, dressed, her back +supported by pillows. Her complexion was of dark olive, showing her +Spanish extraction; a capable, kindly woman she had ever been in life; +and was endeavouring now to meet the death that she knew could not be +far off, as a Christian should. He stooped and kissed her. In features +he resembled her more than any of her children. + +"Do you feel better, mother?" + +"My dear, you know that there can be no 'better' for me here. The pain +is not heavy today. Have you just come up to town?" + +"Just got in now." + +"And what have you to tell me? I cannot _believe_ that John is dead. +When the telegram came yesterday morning, your father happened to be +with me, and they brought it up. But for that, I dare say he would not +have told me yet. He spares me all the trouble that he can, you know, +dear. I fainted, Bede; I did indeed. The death must have been very +sudden." + +"Yes," replied Bede. + +"Was it a fit? Jane, run to the schoolroom. Your governess will be +angry at your staying away so long." + +Jane's answer to this mandate was to perch herself on the arm of the +sofa, side by side with the speaker, and to fix her eyes and her +attention on the face of Bede. + +"None of the Olliveras have been subject to fits; remember that, +Bede," continued Mrs. Greatorex. "Neither did John himself look at all +likely for one. To think that he should go before me! Jane, my little +dear one, you must indeed go to Miss Ford." + +"I am going to stay here, grand'ma, and to hear about John." + +"There's nothing much to hear, or to tell," spoke Bede, as much +perhaps for his mother's ear as for the child's. "If you do not obey +your grandmamma, Jane, I shall take you myself to the schoolroom. + +"No, you won't, Bede. Why don't you answer grand'ma about John?" + +Mrs. Greatorex had nearly left off contending with Miss Jane; weary, +sick, in pain, it was too much effort, and she generally yielded to +the dominant little will. As she appeared to do now, for it was to +Bede she spoke. + +"Bede, dear, you are keeping me in suspense. Was it a fit?" + +"No; it could not be called a fit." + +"The heart, perhaps?" + +"His death must have been quite sudden," said Bede, with pardonable +evasion. "Instantaneous, the doctors thought: and therefore without +pain." + +"Poor John! poor John! The veil is lifted for him. Bede!" + +Bede had begun to turn his attention to the young lady, and was +putting her down from the sofa. He wheeled round at the word, and Miss +Jane mounted again. + +"What, mother?" + +Mrs. Greatorex dropped her voice reverently: and her dark eyes, +looking large from illness, had a bright, hopeful, yearning light in +them as she spoke. + +"I think he was fit to go." + +"Yes," answered Bede, swallowing a lump of emotion. "It is the one +drop of comfort amidst much darkness. At least----. But I must keep my +word," he added, breaking suddenly off, and seizing the child again, +as if glad of an excuse to cease; "you go now to Miss Ford, young +lady." + +She set up a succession of cries. Bede only carried her away the +faster. + +"You'll come back and tell me more, Bede," said Mrs. Greatorex. + +"I will come by-and-by," he turned to say. "I have pressing things to +do; and I have not yet spoken with my father. Try and get your +afternoon's sleep, mother dear." + +Miss Ford, a nursery governess, stood at the schoolroom door, and +began to scold her pupil as she received her from the hands of Mr. +Bede Greatorex. He shut himself into his room for a few minutes, and +then descended the stairs in deep thought. He had begun to ask himself +whether the worst could not be kept from his mother; not for very long +could she be spared to them now. + +Mr. Greatorex was then coming out of the dining-room. He shook hands +with his son, and they went back and sat down together. Bede grew +quite agitated at the task before him. He hated to inflict pain; he +knew that John Ollivera had been dear to his father, and that the blow +would be keenly felt. All the news as yet sent up by him to Bedford +Square was, that John was dead. + +Whence, then, that grey look on his father's face?--the haggard mouth, +the troubled, shrinking eyes going searchingly out to Bede's? Mr. +Greatorex was a fresh-looking man in general, with a healthy colour +and smooth brown hair, tall and upright as his son. He looked short +and shrinking and pale now. + +"Bede, how came he to do it?" + +Something like a relief came into Bede's heart as he heard the words. +It was so much better for the way to have been paved for him!--the +shock would not be so great. + +"Then you know the particulars, sir. + +"I fear I know the truth, Bede; not the particulars. _The Times_ had a +short paragraph this morning, saying that John Ollivera had died by +his own hand. Was it so?" + +Bede gravely nodded. His breath was coming and going faster than is +consistent with inward calmness. + +"My God!" cried Mr. Greatorex, from between his quivering lips, as he +sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. But the sacred +word was not spoken in irreverence; no, nor in surprise; rather, as it +seemed, in the light of an appealing prayer. + +"And what could have induced it?" came the question presently, as he +let his hands fall. + +"I had better tell you the whole from the beginning," said Bede, "you +will then----" + +"Tell it, of course," interrupted Mr. Greatorex. "Begin at the +beginning." + +Bede stood up, facing the fire; his elbow on the mantelpiece, his +back partially turned to his father, while he told it: he did not care +to watch the anguish and horror of the usually placid face. He +concealed nothing: relating how he had reached the City and held an +interview with his cousin; how he had left him after the lapse of an +hour, promising to be with him in the morning before starting for +town; and how he had been aroused from his bed by the tidings that +John was dead. He described the state of the room when found; the +pistol lying underneath the hand; the note on the table. As well as +Bede Greatorex could repeat the details, as testified to before the +coroner--and we may be very sure they were implanted with painful +exactitude on his memory--he gave them all faithfully. + +"It might have been an accident," urged Mr. Greatorex, in an imploring +kind of tone, as if he wanted to be assured that it was. + +Bede did not answer. + +"I forgot the writing, Bede; I forgot the writing," said Mr. +Greatorex, with a groan. + +"Whatever it might be, whether accident or self-intended, it is an +awful shame to bury him as they are going to do," burst forth Bede, in +a sudden access of anger. + +And the words served to tell Mr. Greatorex what the verdict had been. + +"It is a sin, sir; yes, it is. I could not stay to see it." + +"So it may be, Bede; but that's the least of it--that's the least of +it. I'd as soon have believed myself capable of such a thing as that +John Ollivera was. Oh, John! John!" + +A painful silence. Bede felt glad that his task was so far over. + +"His motive, Bede? What could have been his motive?" + +"There was no motive, father; as far as I can see." + +"You were young men together, Bede; of the same pursuits--frequent +companions; did you ever suspect he had any care, or embarrassment, or +trouble?" + +"No. He had none, I feel sure." + +"Those first words of the note, as you have related them, sound +curious," resumed Mr. Greatorex. "What was it that he was trying to +accomplish?" + +"We cannot discover; no clue whatever has come to light. It would +almost seem as though he had written them to the air, without +foundation." + +"That would be to say his senses had deserted him." + +"Kene thinks that the headache of which he had complained may have +proceeded from some disordered function of the brain, and induced +insanity." + +"Do _you_ think it?" asked Mr. Greatorex, looking at his son. "You +were the last person who saw him alive." + +"I should be glad to think it if I could. He was quite calm and +collected when I was with him; just as usual." + +"The extraordinary thing to me is, that nobody should have heard the +discharge of the pistol." + +"The people of the house were all out. Even the servant-girl had gone +about the neighbourhood gossiping." + +"It might have been heard in the street." + +"If the street were quiet, perhaps yes. But on assize nights, they +tell me, there is an unusual deal of outdoor bustle." + +Mr. Greatorex sat looking at the fire, and revolving the different +points of the dreadful history. Bede resumed. + +"I was wondering whether the worst of the details could be kept from +my mother. They would try her terribly. She only thinks as yet, I +find, that he died suddenly." + +"Because she only knows as much as your telegram said. It will be +impossible to keep it from her; the newspapers will be full of it. +Three times today has your mother sent down for _The Times_, and I +have returned an excuse. There's no help for it, Bede." + +"Then you shall tell her, sir. I can't. It must be broken to her by +degrees. How was it William Ollivera was so late in coming down?" he +suddenly resumed. "He only arrived today as I was departing." + +"William Ollivera was out of town, and did not return until last +night. You have said nothing about our cause, Bede." + +"That's all right. It was taken yesterday afternoon. Kene led in the +place of John, and we got the verdict." + +"Where are John's papers and things?" + +"His brother and Frank will take charge of them. I have his private +letters. I thought it best to come up to you at once, knowing you were +in suspense." + +"A suspense that has been grievous since I read that paragraph this +morning, Bede. I have been fit for nothing." + +Neither was Bede that day. Mr. Greatorex rose to go to his wife's +room, there to enter upon his task--just as his son had been entering +upon it with him. Bede paced the carpet for a few minutes alone. It +was a long room; the furniture not dark and heavy, but light-looking +and pleasant to the eye, though comprising all the requisites for a +well-appointed dining-room. Bede took a look at himself in the +pier-glass, and pushed his hair off his forehead--his sisters used to +accuse him of inordinate vanity. And then quitted the room and the +house. + +He was bending his steps to Lincoln's Inn, to the chambers occupied by +his cousin. Not many yards had he gone, before someone darted across +the street and pounced upon him. + +"Halloa, Greatorex! What's this, that's up about Ollivera?" + +It was a Chancery barrister, who had known John Ollivera well. Bede +Greatorex explained in a few short words, and hurried off. + +"I can't stay to tell you more now," he said in apology. "There's a +great deal to do and to be thought of, and I hardly know whether our +heads are on our shoulders or off. I'm on my way to his chambers to +search if there may be any paper, or aught else, that can throw light +on it." + +A hansom passed at the moment, and Bede jumped into it. He might have +met fifty questioners, else, and reached his destination after dark. +The chambers were on the third floor, and he went up to them. Mr. +Ollivera's clerk, a small youth of nineteen, was at his post; and the +laundress, who waited on Mr. Ollivera, was there also. The news had +brought her up in tears. + +Perhaps it was excusable that they should both begin upon Mr. Bede +Greatorex in their thirst for information. Respectfully, of course, +but eagerly. He responded in a few quiet words, and passed into the +rooms, the woman's sobs following him. + +Here was the sitting-room where John saw people; next to it his +bedroom; all in neat order. Near the bed was a small mahogany stand, +and a cushioned chair. On the stand lay his Bible--just as the other +one was seen but yesterday resting on its stand elsewhere. Bede knew +that his cousin never failed to read that Bible, and to fall on his +knees before the chair morning and evening. He turned away with a +groan, and proceeded to his work of search. + +Only a casual search today; there was no time for minute examination. +Just a look here and there, lest haply he might come upon some paper +or letter of elucidation. But he could not find any. + +"I am going to lock the rooms up, Jenner," he said to the clerk. +"Things must be left as they are until the Reverend Mr. Ollivera comes +to town. He will have the arrangement of matters. I don't suppose +there's any will." + +"Am I to leave the service at once, sir?--now?" asked Mr. Jenner, in +excessive surprise. + +"You must leave the rooms now--unless you would like to be locked up +in them," returned Bede Greatorex. "Call in Bedford Square tomorrow +morning; we may be able to recommend something you to: and perhaps you +will be wanted here again for a few days." + +They quitted the chambers together; and Mr. Bede Greatorex took +possession of the key. "I suppose," he said to the clerk, as they went +down, "that you never observed any peculiarity of manner in Mr. +Ollivera that might tend to induce suspicion of aberration of mind?" + +The young man turned round and stared, scarcely taking in the sense of +the question. Certainly there had not been anything of the kind +observable in Mr. Ollivera. + +"He was cheerful and sensible always, sir: he didn't seem to have a +care." + +Bede sighed, and proceeded homeward. A recollection came over him, as +he went along in the dusk, of the last evening he had walked home from +his cousin's chambers; it was only the night before John had gone on +circuit. Oh, the contrast between that time and this! And Bede +thought, in the bitter grief and sorrow of the moment, that he would +willingly forfeit his own life could he recall that of John Ollivera. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +MR. BUTTERBY IN PRIVATE LIFE. + + +The bustle of the assizes was over; the tramp and tread and hum had +gone out of the streets; the judges, the barristers, and the rest of +the transitory visitors had departed, to hold their assize at the next +county town. + +A great deal of the bustle and the hum of another event had also +subsided. It does not linger very long when outward proceedings are +over, and sensational adjuncts have ceased; and Mr. Ollivera, at the +best, had been but a stranger. The grave where he lay had its visitors +still; but his brother and other friends had left for London, carrying +his few effects with them. Nothing remained to tell of the fatal act +of the past Monday evening; but for that grave, it might have seemed +never to have had place in reality. + +The Reverend Mr. Ollivera had been firm in refusing to admit belief in +his brother's guilt. He did not pretend to judge how it might have +happened, whether by accident or by some enemy's hand; but he felt +convinced the death could not have been deliberately self-inflicted. +It was an impossibility, he avowed to Mr. Butterby--and he was looked +upon, by that renowned officer, as next door to a lunatic for his +pains. There was no more shadow of a doubt on Mr. Butterby's mind that +the verdict had been in accordance with the facts, than there was on +other people's. + +Always excepting Alletha Rye's. She had been silent to the public +since the avowal at the grave; but, in a dispute with Mrs. Jones, had +repeated her assertion and belief. Upon a report of the display coming +to Mrs. Jones's ears, that discreet matron--who certainly erred on the +side of hard, correct, matter-of-fact propriety, if on any--attacked +her sister in no measured terms. There were several years between +them, and Mrs. Jones considered she had a right to do it. Much as Mrs. +Jones had respected Mr. Ollivera in life, she entertained no doubt +whatever on the subject of his death. + +"My opinion is, you must have been crazy," came the sharp reprimand. +"Go off after that tramping tail to the grave! I wish I'd seen you +start. A good name is easier lost than regained, Alletha Rye." + +"I am not afraid of losing mine," was the calm rejoinder. + +"Folks seldom are till they find it gone," said Mrs. Jones, tartly. +"My goodness! not content with trapesing off there in the middle +of the night, you must go and make an exhibition of yourself +besides!--kneeling down on the damp earth to pray, in the face and +eyes of all the people; and then rising to make a proclamation, just +as if you had been the town bellman! Jones says it struck him dumb." + +Alletha Rye was silent. Perhaps she had felt vexed since, that the +moment's excitement had led her to the act. + +"Who are _you_, that you should put yourself up against the verdict?" +resumed Mrs. Jones. "Are you cleverer and sharper than the jury, and +the coroner, and me, and Mr. Ollivera's friends, and the rest of the +world, all of us put together? There can't be a _doubt_ upon the +point, girl." + +"Let it drop," said Alletha, with a shiver. + +"Drop! I'd like to see it drop. I'd like the remembrance of it to drop +out of men's minds, but you've took care that shan't be. What on earth +induced you to go and do it?" + +"It was a dreadful thing that Mr. Ollivera should lie under the +imputation of having killed himself," came the answer, after a pause. + +"Now, you just explain yourself, Alletha Rye. You keep harping on that +same string, about Mr. Ollivera; what grounds have you for it?" + +The girl's pale face flushed all over. "None," she presently answered. +"I never said I had grounds. But there's that vivid dream upon me +always. He seemed to reproach me for not having sooner gone into the +room to find him; and I'm sure no self-murderer would do that. They'd +rather lie undiscovered for ever. Had I kept silence," she +passionately added, "I might have become haunted." + +Mrs. Jones stared at the speaker with all the fiery fervour of her +dark, dark eyes. + +"Haunted! Haunted by what?" + +"By Mr. Ollivera's spirit; by remorse. Remorse for not doing as I am +sure he is wishing me to do--clear his memory." + +Mrs. Jones lifted her hands in wonder, and for once made no retort. +She began to question in real earnest whether the past matters had not +turned her sister's brain. + +Dicky Jones was present during this passage-at-arms, which took place +on the Thursday, after breakfast. He had just been enduring a battery +of tongue on his own score; various sins, great and small, being +placed before him in glaring colours by his wife; not the least +heinous of which was the having arrived home from his pleasure trip at +the unseasonable hour of half after one o'clock in the morning. In +recrimination he had intimated that others of the family could come in +at that hour as well as himself; not to do Alletha Rye harm, for he +was a good-natured man, as people given to plenty of peccadilloes are +apt to be; but to make his own crime appear the less. And then it all +came out; and Mrs. Jones's ears were regaled with Alletha Rye's share +in the doings at the interment. + +On this same Thursday, but very much later in the day, Frank Greatorex +and the Reverend Mr. Ollivera departed from the city, having stayed to +collect together the papers and other effects of the deceased +gentleman. Which brings us (the night having passed, and a great +portion of the ensuing day) to the opening of the chapter. + +Mr. Butterby sat in his parlour: one of two rooms he occupied on the +ground floor of a private house very near a populous part of the city. +He was not a police-sergeant; he was not an inspector; people did not +know what he was. That he held sway at the police-station, and was a +very frequent visitor to it, everybody saw. But Mr. Butterby had been +so long in the town that speculation though rife enough at first upon +the point, had ceased as to what special relations he might hold +with the law. When any one wanted important assistance, he could, +if he chose, apply to Mr. Butterby, instead of to the regular +police-inspector; and, to the mind of the sanguine inquirer, that +application appeared to constitute a promise of success. + +Mr. Butterby's parlour faced the street. Its one sash window, +protected by shutters thrown back in the day, and by green dwarf +venetian blinds and a white roller-blind inside, was not a very large +one. Nevertheless, Mr. Butterby contrived to keep a tolerable lookout +from it on those of his fellow citizens who might chance to pass. He +generally had the white blinds drawn down to meet, within an inch, the +mahogany top of the venetian ones; and from that inch of outlet, Mr. +Butterby, standing up before the window, was fond of taking +observations. It was an unpretending room, with a faded carpet and rug +on the floor; a square table in the middle, a large bureau filled with +papers in a corner; some books in a case opposite, and a stock of +newspapers on the top of that; and a picture over the mantelpiece +representing Eve offering the apple to Adam. + +Mr. Butterby sat by the fire at his tea, taking it thoughtfully. He +wore an old green coat with short tails sprouting out from the waist, +not being addicted to fashion in private life, and a red-and-black +check waistcoat. It was Friday evening and nearly dusk. He had been +out on some business all the afternoon but his thoughts were not +fixed on that, though it was of sufficient importance; they rested on +the circumstances attending the death of Mr. Ollivera. + +Before the brother of the deceased had quitted the town, he had made +an appointment with Mr. Butterby, and came to it accompanied by Frank +Greatorex; the fly, conveying them to the station, waiting at the +door. The purport of his visit was to impress upon that officer his +full conviction that the death was not a suicide, and to request that, +if anything should arise to confirm his opinion, it might be followed +up. + +"He was a good, pure-minded man; he was of calm, clear, practical +mind, of sound good sense; he was fond of his profession, anxious to +excel in it; hopeful, earnest, and without a care in the world," urged +the Reverend Mr. Ollivera, with emotion. "How, sir, I ask you, could +such a man take away his own life?" + +Mr. Butterby shook his head. It might be unlikely, he acknowledged; +but it was not impossible. + +"I tell you it is impossible," said Mr. Ollivera. "I hold a full, +firm, positive conviction that my brother never died, or could have +died, by his own wilful hands: the certainty of it in my mind is so +clear as to be like a revelation from heaven. Do you know what I did, +sir? I went to the grave at night after he was put into it, and read +the burial service over him." + +"I see you doing it," came the unexpected answer of Mr. Butterby. "The +surplice you wore was too long for you and covered your boots." + +"It belonged to a taller man than I am--the Reverend Mr. Yorke," the +clergyman explained. "But now, sir, do you suppose I should have dared +to hold that sacred service over a man who had wilfully destroyed +himself?" + +"But instead of there being proof that he did not wilfully destroy +himself, there's every proof that he did," argued Mr. Butterby. + +"Every apparent proof; I admit that; but I know--I know that the +proofs are in some strange way false; not real." + +"The death was real; the pistol was real; the writing on the +note-paper was real." + +"I know. I cannot pretend to explain where the explanation may be +hidden; I cannot see how or whence the elucidation shall come. One +suggestion I will make to you, Mr. Butterby it is not clear that no +person got access to the drawing-room after the departure from it of +Mr. Bede Greatorex. At least, to my mind. I only mentioned this +thought," concluded Mr. Ollivera, rising to close the interview; for +he had no time to prolong it. "Should you succeed in gleaning +anything, address a communication to me, to the care of Greatorex and +Greatorex." + +"Stop a moment," cried Mr. Butterby, as they were going out. "Who +holds the paper that was found on the table?" + +"I do," said Frank Greatorex. "Some of them would have had it +destroyed; Kene and my brother amidst them; they could not bear to +look at it. But I thought my father might like to see it first, and +took it into my own possession." + +A smile crossed the lip of the police agent. "Considering the two +gentlemen you mention are in the law, it doesn't say much for their +forethought, to rash at destroying the only proof there may remain to +us of anybody else's being guilty." + +"But then, you know, they do not admit that any one else could have +been guilty," replied Frank Greatorex. "At least my brother does not; +and Kene only looks upon it as a possible case of insanity. Do you +want to see the paper? I have it in my pocket." + +"Perhaps you'd not mind leaving it with me for a day or two," said Mr. +Butterby. "I'll forward it up safe to you when I've done with it." + +Frank Greatorex took the paper from his pocketbook and handed it to +the speaker. It was folded inside an envelope now. Mr. Butterby +received possession of it and attended his guests to the door, where +the fly was waiting. + +"You'll have to drive fast, Thompson," he said to the man. And +Thompson, touching his hat to the officer, who was held in some awe by +the city natives, whipped his horse into a canter. + +It was upon this interview that Mr. Butterby ruminated as he took his +tea on the Friday evening. In his own opinion it was the most +unreasonable thing in the world, that anybody should throw doubt upon +the verdict. Nothing but perversity. He judged it--and he was a +keen-sighted man--to be fully in accordance with the facts, as given +in evidence. Excepting perhaps in one particular. Had he been on the +jury he should have held out for a verdict of insanity. + +"They are but a set of bumble-heads at the best," soliloquised +Mr. Butterby, respectfully alluding to the twelve men who had returned +the verdict, as he took a large bite out of his last piece of +well-buttered pikelet. "Juries for the most part always are: if they +have got any brains they send them a wool-gathering then. Hemming, the +butter-and-cheese man, told me he did say something about insanity; +and he was foreman, too; but the rest of 'em and the coroner wouldn't +listen to it. It don't much matter, for he got the burial rites after +all, poor fellow: but if I'd been them, I should have gave him the +benefit of the doubt." + +Stopping in his observations to put the rest of the pikelet in his +mouth, Mr. Butterby went on again as he ate it. + +"It might have been that, insanity; but as to the other suspicion, +there's no grounds whatever for it on the face of things at present. +If such is to be raised I shall have to set to work and hunt 'em up. +Create 'em as it were. 'Don't spare money,' says that young clergyman +last night when he sat here; 'your expenses shall be reimbursed to you +with interest.' As if I could make a case out of nothing! I'm not a +French Procureur-Imperial." + +Drinking down his tea at a draught, Mr. Butterby tried the teapot, +lest a drop might be left in it still, turning it nearly upside down +in the process. The result was, that the lid came open and a shower of +tea-leaves descended on the tray. + +"Bother!" said Mr. Butterby, as he hastily set the teapot in its +place, and went on with his arguments. + +"There's something odd about the case, though, straightforward as it +seems; and I've thought so from the first. That girl's dream, for +example, which _she_ says she had; and her conduct at the grave. It +was curious that Dicky Jones should just be looking on at her," added +Mr. Butterby, slightly diverging from the direct line of consecutive +thought: "curious that Dicky should have come up then at all. First, +Alletha Rye vows he didn't do it; and, next, the parson vows it, +Reverend Ollivera. Kene, too--but he points to insanity; and now the +young fellow, Francis Greatorex. Suppose I go over the case again?" + +Stretching out his hand, Mr. Butterby pulled the bell-rope--an +old-fashioned twisted blue cord with a handle at the end; and a young +servant came in. + +"Shut the shutters," said he. + +While this was in process, he took two candles from the mantelpiece, +and lighted them. The girl went away with the tea-tray. He then +unlocked his bureau, and from one of its pigeon-holes brought forth a +few papers, memoranda, and the like, which he studied in silence, one +after the other. + +"The parson's right," he began presently; "if there is a loophole it's +where he said--that somebody got into the room after the departure of +Mr. Greatorex. Let's sum the points up." + +Drawing his chair close to the table on which the papers lay, Mr. +Butterby began to tell the case through, striking his two forefingers +alternately on the table's edge as each point came flowing from his +tongue. Not that "flowing" is precisely the best word to apply, for +his speech was thoughtfully slow, and the words dropped with +hesitation. + +"John Ollivera, counsel-at-law. He comes in on the Saturday with the +other barristers, ready for the 'sizes. Has a cause or two coming on +at 'em, in which he expects to shine. Goes to former lodgings at +Jones's, and shows himself as full of sense and sanity as usual; and +he'd got his share of both. Spends Saturday evening at his friend's, +Mrs. Joliffe's, the colonel's widow; is sweet, Mrs. Jones thinks, on +one of the young ladies; thought so when he was down last October. +Gets home at ten like a decent man, works at his papers till twelve, +and goes to bed." + +Mr. Butterby made a pause here, both his fingers resting on the table. +Giving a nod, as if his reflections were satisfactory, he lifted his +hands and began again. + +"Sunday. Attends public worship and takes the sacrament. _That's_ not +like the act of one who knows he is on the eve of a bad deed. Attends +again after breakfast, with the judges, and hears the sheriff's +chaplain preach. (And it was not a bad sermon, as sermons go," +critically pronounced Mr. Butterby in a parenthesis). "Attends again +in the afternoon to hear the anthem, the Miss Joliffes with him. Dines +at Jones's at five, spends evening at Joliffes'. Home early, and to +bed." + +Once more the hands were lifted. Once more their owner paused in +thought. He gave two nods this time, and resumed. + +"Monday. Up before eight. Has his breakfast (bacon and eggs), and goes +to the Nisi Prius Court. Stays there till past three in the afternoon, +tells Kene he must go out of court to keep an appointment that wasn't +a particularly pleasant one, and goes out. Arrives at Jones's at +half-past four; passes Mrs. Jones in that there small back hall of +theirs; she tells him he looks tired; answers that he _is_ tired and +has got a headache; court was close. Goes up to his sitting-room and +gets his papers about; (papers found afterwards, on examination, to +relate to the cause coming on on Tuesday morning). Girl takes up his +dinner; he eats it, gets to his papers again, and she fetches things +away. Rings for his lamp early, quarter-past six may be, nearly +daylight still; while girl puts it on table, draws down blinds himself +as if in a hurry to be at work again. Close upon this Mr. Bede +Greatorex calls, (good firm that, Greatorex and Greatorex," +interspersed Mr. Butterby, with professional candour). "Bede Greatorex +has come down direct from London (sent by old Greatorex) to confer +with Ollivera on the Tuesday's cause. Stays with him more than an +hour. Makes an appointment with him for Tuesday morning. Jones's +nephew, going upstairs at the time, hears them making it, and shows +Mr. Bede Greatorex out. Might be half-past seven then, or two or three +minutes over it; call it half-past. Ollivera never seen again alive. +Found dead next morning in arm-chair; pistol fallen from right hand, +shot penetrated heart. Same chair he had been sitting in when at his +papers, but drawn aside now at corner of table. Alletha Rye finds him. +Tells a cock-and-bull of having been frightened by a dream. Dreamt he +was in the sitting-room dead, and goes to see (she says) that he was +not there, dead. Finds him there dead, however, just as (she says) she +saw him in her dream. Servant rushes out for doctor, meets me, and I +am the first in the room. Doctor comes, Hurst; Kene comes, Jones's +nephew fetching him; then Kene fetches Bede Greatorex. Doctor says +death must have took place previous evening not later than eight +o'clock. Mrs. Jones says lamp couldn't have burnt much more than an +hour: is positive it didn't exceed an hour and a half; but she's one +of the positive ones at all times, and women's judgment is fallible. +Now then, let's stop." + +Mr. Butterby put his hands one over the other, and looked down upon +them, pausing before he spoke again. + +"It draws the space into an uncommon narrow nutshell. When Bede +Greatorex leaves at half-past seven, Ollivera is alive and well--as he +and Jones's nephew both testify to--and, according to the evidence of +the surgeon, and the negative testimony of the oil in the lamp, he is +dead by eight. If he did not draw the pistol on himself, somebody came +in and shot him. + +"Did he draw it on himself? I say Yes. Coroner and jury say Yes. The +public say Yes. Alletha Rye and the Reverend Ollivera say No. If we +are all wrong--and I don't say but that there's just a loophole of +possibility of it--and them two are right, why then it was murder. And +done with uncommon craftiness. Let's look at the writing. + +"Those high-class lawyers are not good for much in criminal cases, +can't see an inch beyond their noses; they don't practise at the Old +Bailey, they don't," remarked Mr. Butterby, as he took from the papers +before him the unfinished note found on Mr. Ollivera's table, the loan +of which he had begged from Frank Greatorex. "The idea of their +proposing to destroy this, because 'they couldn't bear to look at it!' +Kene, too; and Bede Greatorex! _they_ might have known better. _I'll_ +take care of it now." + +Holding it close to one of the candles, the detective scanned it long +and intently, comparing the concluding words, uneven, blotted, as if +written with an agitated hand, with the plain collected characters of +the lines that were undoubtedly Mr. Ollivera's. When he did arrive at +a conclusion it was a summary one, and he put down the paper with an +emphatic thump. + +"May I be shot myself if I believe the two writings _is_ by the same +hand!" + +Mr. Butterby's surprise may plead excuse for his grammar. He had +never, until this moment, doubted that the writing was all done by one +person. + +"I'll show this to an expert. People don't write the same at all +times; they'll make their capitals quite different in the same day, as +anybody with any experience knows. But they don't often make their +small letters different--neither do men study to alter their usual +formation of letters when about to shoot themselves; the pen does its +work then, spontaneous; naturally. These small letters are different, +several of them, the _r_, the _p_, the _e_, the _o_, the _d_; all them +are as opposite as light and dark, and I _don't_ think the last was +written by Mr. Ollivera." + +It was a grave conclusion to come to; partially startling even him, +who was too much at home with crime and criminals to be startled +easily. + +"Let's assume that it is so for a bit, and see how it works that way," +resumed the officer. "We've all been mistaken, let's say; Ollivera, +did not shoot himself, someone goes in and shoots him. Was it man or +woman; was it an inmate of the house, or not an inmate? How came it to +be done? what was the leading cause? Was the pistol (lying convenient +on the table) took up incidental in the course of talking and fired by +misadventure?--Or did they get to quarrelling and the other shot him +of malice?--Or was it a planned, deliberate murder, one stealing in to +do it in cold blood? Halt a bit here, Jonas Butterby. The first--done +in misadventure? No: if any honest man had so shot another, he'd be +the first to run out and get a doctor to him. No. Disposed of. The +second--done in malice during a quarrel? Yes; might have been. The +third--done in planned deliberation? That would be the most likely of +all, but for the fact (very curious fact in the supposition) of the +pistol's having been Mr. Ollivera's, and put (so to say) ready there +to hand. Looking at it in either of these two views, there's mystery. +The last in regard to the point now mentioned; the other in regard to +the secrecy with which the intruder must have got in. If that dratted +girl had been at her post indoors, as she ought to have been, with the +chain of the door up, it might never have happened," concluded Mr. +Butterby, with acrimony. + +"Between half-past seven and eight? Needn't look much before or much +beyond that hour. Girl says nobody went into the house at all, except +Jones's nephew and Jones's sister-in-law. Jones's nephew did not stay; +he got his book and went off again at half-past seven, close on the +heels of Bede Greatorex, Mr. Ollivera being then alive. Presently, +nearer eight, Alletha Rye goes in, for a pattern, she says, and she +stays upstairs, according to the girl's statement, a quarter of an +hour." + +Mr. Butterby came to a sudden pause. He faced the fire now, and sat +staring into it as if he were searching for what he could not see. + +"It does not take a quarter of an hour to get a pattern. _I_ should +say not. And there was her queer dream, too. Leastways, the queer +assertion that she had a dream. Dreams, indeed!--moonshine. Did she +invent that dream as an excuse for having gone into the room to find +him? And then look at her persistence from the first that it was not a +suicide! And her queer state of mind and manners since! Dicky Jones +told me last night when I met him by the hop-market, that she says +she's haunted by Mr. Ollivera's spirit. Why should she be, I wonder? I +mean, why should she fancy it? It's odd; very odd. The young woman, up +to now, has always shown out sensible, in the short while this city +has known her. + +"That Godfrey Pitman," resumed the speaker. "The way that man's name +got brought up by the servant-girl was sudden. I should like to know +who he is, and what his business might have been. He was in hiding; +that's what he was. Stopping indoors for a cold and relaxed throat! No +doubt! But it does not follow that because he might have been in some +trouble of his own, he had anything to do with the other business; +and, in fact, he couldn't have had, leaving by the five o'clock train +for Birmingham. So we'll dismiss _him_. + +"And now for the result?" concluded Mr. Butterby, with great +deliberation. "The result is that I feel inclined to think the young +parson may be right in saying it was not a suicide. What it _was_, I +can't yet make my mind up to give an opinion upon. Suppose I inquire +into things a bit in a quiet manner?--and, to begin with, I'll make a +friendly call on Dicky Jones and madam. She won't answer anything that +it does not please her to, and it never pleases her to be questioned; +on the other hand, what she does choose to say is to be relied upon, +for she'd not tell a lie to save herself from hanging. As to +Dicky--with that long tongue of his, he can be pumped dry." + +Mr. Butterby locked up his papers, changed his ornamental coat for a +black one, flattened down the coal on his fire, blew out the candles, +took his hat, and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +GODFREY PITMAN. + + +Mrs. Jones was in her parlour, doing nothing: with the exception of +dropping a tart observation from her lips occasionally. As the +intelligent reader cannot have failed to observe, tartness in regard +to tongue was essentially an element of Mrs. Jones's nature; when +anything occurred to annoy her, its signs increased four-fold; and +something had just happened to annoy her very exceedingly. + +The parlour was not large, but convenient, and well fitted-up. A good +fire burnt in the grate, throwing its ruddy light on the bright +colours of the crimson carpet and hearthrug; on the small sideboard, +with its array of glass; on the horsehair chairs, on the crimson cloth +covering the centre table, and finally on Mrs. Jones herself and on +her sister. + +Mrs. Jones sat at the table, some work before her, in the shape of +sundry packages of hosiery, brought in from the shop to be examined, +sorted, and put to rights. But she was not doing it. Miss Rye sat on +the other side the table, stitching the seams of a gown-body by the +light of the moderator lamp. The shop was just closed. + +It had happened that Dicky Jones, about tea-time that evening, had +strayed into his next-door neighbour's to get a chat: of which light +interludes to business Dicky Jones was uncommonly fond. The bent of +the conversation fell, naturally enough, on the recent calamity in Mr. +Jones's house: in fact, Mr. Jones found his neighbour devouring the +full account of it in the Friday evening weekly newspaper, just damp +from the press. A few minutes, and back went Dicky to his own parlour, +his mouth full of news: the purport of which was that the lodger, +Godfrey Pitman, who had been supposed to leave the house at half-past +four, to take the Birmingham train, did not really quit it until some +two or three hours later. + +It had not been Mrs. Jones if she had refrained from telling her +husband to hold his tongue for a fool; and of asking furthermore +whether he had been drinking or dreaming. Upon which Dicky gave his +authority for what he said. Their neighbour, Thomas Cause, had watched +the lodger go away later, with his own eyes. + +Mr. Cause, a quiet tradesman getting in years, was fetched in, and a +skirmish ensued. He asserted that he had seen the lodger come out of +the house and go up the street by lamplight, carrying his blue bag; +and he persisted in the assertion, in spite of Mrs. Jones's tongue. +She declared he had _not_ seen anything of the sort; that either his +spectacles or the street lights had deceived him. And neither of them +would give in to the other. + +Leaving matters in this unsatisfactory state, the neighbour went out +again. Mrs. Jones exploded a little, and then had leisure to look at +her sister, who had sat still and silent during the discussion. Still +and silent she remained; but her face had turned white, and her eyes +wore a wild, frightened expression. + +"What on earth's the matter with _you?_" demanded Mrs. Jones. + +"Nothing," said Miss Rye, catching hold of her work with nervous, +trembling fingers. "Only I can't bear to hear it spoken of." + +"If Mr. Pitman didn't go away till later, that accounts for the +tallow-grease in his room," suddenly interposed Susan Marks, who, +passing into the parlour, caught the thread of the matter in dispute. + +Mrs. Jones turned upon her. "Tallow-grease!" + +"I didn't see it till this afternoon," explained the girl. "With all +the commotion there has been in the house, I never as much as opened +the room-door till today since Mr. Pitman went out of it. The first +thing I see was the carpet covered in drops of tallow-grease; a whole +colony of them: and I know they were not there on the Monday +afternoon. They be there still." + +Mrs. Jones went upstairs at once, the maid following her. Sure enough +the grease drops were there. Some lay on the square piece of carpet, +some on the boarded floor; but all were very near together. The +candlestick and candle, from which they had no doubt dropped, stood on +the wash-hand-stand at Mrs. Jones's elbow, as she wrathfully gazed. + +"Ho must have been lighting of his candle sideways," remarked the girl +to her mistress; "or else have held it askew while hunting for +something on the floor. If he stopped as late as old Cause says, why +in course he'd need a candle." + +Mrs. Jones went down again, her temper by no means improved. She did +not like to be deceived or treated as though she were nobody; neither +did she choose that her house should be played with. If the lodger +missed his train (as she now supposed he might have done) and came +back to wait for a later one, his duty was to have announced himself, +and asked leave to stay. In spite, however, of the tallow and of Mr. +Cause, she put but little faith in the matter. Shortly after this +there came a ring at the side-door, and Mr. Butterby's voice was heard +in the passage. + +"Don't say anything to him about it," said Miss Rye hastily, in a low +tone. + +"About what?" demanded Mrs. Jones, aloud. + +"About that young man's not going away as soon as we thought he did. +It's nothing to Butterby." + +There was no time for more. Mr. Butterby was shown in and came forward +with a small present for Mrs. Jones. It was only a bunch of violets; +but Mrs. Jones, in spite of her tartness, was fond of flowers, and +received them graciously: calling to Susan to bring a wine-glass of +water. + +"I passed a chap at the top of High Street with a basketfull; he said +he'd sold but two bunches all the evening, so I took a bunch," +explained Mr. Butterby. "It was that gardener's man, Reed, who met +with the accident and has been unfit for work since. Knowing you liked +violets, Mrs. Jones, I thought I'd just call in with them." + +He sat down in the chair, offered him, by the fire, putting his hat in +the corner behind. Miss Rye, after saluting him, had resumed work, and +sat with her face turned to the table, partially away from his view; +Mrs. Jones, at the other side of the table, faced him. + +"Where's Jones?" asked Mr. Butterby. + +"Jones is off, as usual," replied Jones's wife. "No good to ask where +_he_ is after the shop's shut; often not before it." + +It was an unlucky question, bringing back all the acrimony which the +violets had partially soothed away. Mr. Butterby coughed, and began +talking of recent events in a sociable, friendly manner, just as if he +had been Mrs. Jones's brother, and never in his life heard of so rare +an animal as a detective. + +"It's an uncommon annoying thing to have had happen in your house, +Mrs. Jones! As if it couldn't as well have took place in anybody +else's! There's enough barristers lodging in the town at assize time, +I hope. But there! luck's everything. I'd have given five shillings +out of my pocket to have stopped it." + +"So would I; for his sake as well as for mine," was Mrs. Jones's +answer. And she seized one of the parcels of stockings and jerked off +the string. + +"Have you had any more dreams, Miss Rye?" + +"No," replied Miss Rye, holding her stitching closer to the light for +a moment. "That one was enough." + +"Dreams is curious things; not to be despised," observed crafty Mr. +Butterby; than whom there was not a man living despised dreams, as +well as those who professed to have them, more than he. "But I've +knowed so-called dreams to be nothing in the world but waking +thoughts. Are you sure that one of yours was a dream, Miss Rye?" + +"I would rather not talk of it, if you please," she said. "Talking +cannot bring Mr. Ollivera back to life." + +"What makes you persist in thinking he did not kill himself?" + +Mr. Butterby had gradually edged his chair forward on the hearthrug, +so as to obtain a side view of Miss Rye's face. Perhaps he was +surprised, perhaps not, to see it suddenly flush, and then become +deadly pale. + +"Just look here, Miss Rye. If he did not do it, somebody else did. And +I should like to glean a little insight as to whether or not there are +grounds for that new light, if there's any to be gleaned." + +"Why, what on earth! are _you_ taking up that crotchet, Butterby?" + +The interruption came from Mrs. Jones. That goes without telling, as +the French say. Mr. Butterby turned to warm his hands at the blaze, +speaking mildly enough to disarm an enemy. + +"Not I. I should like to show your sister that her suspicions are +wrong: she'll worrit herself into a skeleton, else. See here: whatever +happened, and however it happened, it must have been between half-past +seven and eight. You were in the place part of that half-hour, Miss +Rye, and heard nobody." + +"I have already said so." + +"Shut up in your room at the top of the house; looking for--what was +it?--a parcel?" + +"A pattern--a pattern of a sleeve. But I had to open parcels, for I +could not find it, and stayed searching. It had slipped between one +drawer and another at the back." + +"It must have took you some time," remarked Mr. Butterby, keeping his +face on the genial fire and his eyes on Miss Rye. + +"I suppose it did. Susan says I was upstairs a quarter of an hour, but +I don't think it was so long as that. Eight o'clock struck after I got +back to Mrs. Wilson's." + +Mr. Butterby paused. Miss Rye resumed after a minute. + +"I don't think any one could have come in legitimately without my +hearing them on the stairs. My room is not at the top of the house, it +is on the same floor as Mrs. Jones's; the back room immediately over +the bedroom that was occupied by Mr. Ollivera. My door was open, and +the drawers in which I was searching stood close to it. If any----" + +"What d'ye mean by legitimate?" interrupted Mr. Butterby, turning to +take a full look at the speaker. + +"Openly; with the noise one usually makes in coming upstairs. But if +any one crept up secretly, of course I should not have heard it. Susan +persists in declaring she never lost sight of the front door at all; I +don't believe her." + +"Nobody does believe her," snapped Mrs. Jones, with a fling at the +socks. "She confesses now that she ran in twice or thrice to look at +the fires." + +"Oh! she does, does she," cried Mr. Butterby. "Leaving the door open, +I suppose?" + +"Leaving it to take care of itself. She says she shut it; I say I know +she didn't. Put it at the best, it was not fastened; and anybody might +have opened it and walked in that had a mind to and robbed the house." + +The visitor, sitting so unobtrusively by the fire, thought he +discerned a little glimmer of possibility breaking in amidst the utter +darkness. + +"But, as the house was not robbed, why we must conclude nobody did +come in," he observed. "As to the verdict--I don't see yet any reason +for Miss Rye's disputing it. Mr. Ollivera was a favourite, I suppose." + +The remark did not please Miss Rye. Her cheek flushed, her work fell, +and she rose from her seat to turn on Mr. Butterby. + +"The verdict was a wrong verdict. Mr. Ollivera was a good and brave +and just man. Never a better went out of the world." + +"If I don't believe you were in love with him!" cried Mr. Butterby. + +"Perhaps I was," came the unexpected answer; but the speaker seemed to +be in too much agitation to heed greatly what she said. "It would not +have hurt either him or me." + +Gathering her work, cotton, scissors in her hands, she went out of the +room. At the same moment there arrived an influx of female visitors, +come, without ceremony, to get an hour's chat with Mrs. Jones. +Catching up his hat, Mr. Butterby dexterously slipped out and +disappeared. + +The street was tolerably empty. He took up his position at the edge of +the facing pavement, and surveyed the house critically. As if he did +not know all its aspects by heart! Some few yards higher up, the +dwellings of Mr. Cause and the linendraper alone intervening, there +was a side opening, bearing the euphonious title of Bear Entry, which +led right into an obscure part of the town. By taking this, and +executing a few turnings and windings, the railway station might be +approached without touching on the more public streets. + +"Yes," said the police agent to himself, calculating possibilities, +"that's how it might have been done. Not that it was, though: I'm only +putting it. A fellow might have slipped out of the door while that +girl was in at her fires, cut down Bear Entry, double back again along +Goose Lane, and so gain the rail." + +Turning up the street with a brisk step, Mr. Butterby found himself +face to face with Thomas Cause, who was standing within the shade of +his side door. Exceedingly affable when it suited him to be so, he +stopped to say a good evening. + +"How d'ye do Cause? A fine night, isn't it?" + +"Lovely weather; shall pay for it later. Has she recovered her temper +yet?" continued Mr. Cause. "I saw you come out." + +Which was decidedly a rather mysterious addition to the answer. Mr. +Butterby naturally inquired what it might mean, and had his ears +gratified with the story of Godfrey Pitman's later departure, and of +Mrs. Jones's angry disbelief in it. Never had those ears listened more +keenly. + +"Are you sure it was the man?" he asked cautiously. + +"If it wasn't him it was his ghost," said Mr. Cause. "I was standing +here on the Monday night, just a step or two for'arder on the +pavement, little thinking that a poor gentleman was shooting himself +within a few yards of me, and saw a man come out of Jones's side door. +When he was close up, I knew him in a moment for the same traveller, +with the same blue bag in his hand, that I saw go in with Miss Rye on +the Sunday week previous. He came out of the house cautiously, his +head pushed forward first, looking up the street and down the street, +and then turned out sharp, whisked past me as hard as he could walk, +and went down Bear Entry. It seemed to me that he didn't care to be +seen." + +But that detectives' hearts are too hard for emotion, this one's might +have beaten a little faster as he listened. It was so exactly what he +had been fancifully tracing to himself as the imaginary course of a +guilty man. Stealing out of the house down Bear Entry, and so up to +the railway station! + +"What time was it?" + +"What time is it now?" returned Mr. Cause: and the other took out his +watch. + +"Five-and-thirty minutes past seven." + +"Then it was as nigh the same time on Monday night, as nigh as nigh +can be. I shut up my shop at the usual hour, and I'd stood here +afterwards just about as long as I've stood here now. I like to take a +breath of fresh air, Mr. Butterby, when the labours of the day are +over." + +"Fresh air's good for all of us--that can get it," said Mr. Butterby, +with a sniff at the air around him. "What sort of a looking man was +this Godfrey Pitman?" + +"A well-grown, straight man; got a lot of black hair about his face; +whiskers, and beard, and moustachios." + +"Young?" + +"Thirty. Perhaps not so much. In reading the account in the _Herald_ +this evening, I saw Jones's folks gave evidence that he had left at +half-past four to catch the Birmingham train. I told Jones it was a +mistake, and he told his wife; and didn't she fly out! As if she need +have put herself in a tantrum over that! 'twas a matter of no +consequence." + +In common with the rest of the town, not a gleam of suspicion that the +death was otherwise than the verdict pronounced it to be, had been +admitted by Mr. Cause. He went on enlarging on the grievance of Mrs. +Jones's attack upon him. + +"She'd not hear a word: Jones fetched me in there. She told me to my +face that, between spectacles and the deceitful rays of street lamps, +one, come to my age, was unable to distinguish black from white, round +from square. She said I must have mistaken the gentleman, Mr. +Greatorex, for Godfrey Pitman or else Jones's nephew, both of them +having gone out about the same time. I couldn't get in a word +edgeways, I assure you Mr. Butterby, and Dicky Jones can bear me out +that I couldn't. Let it go, 'tis of no moment; I don't care to quarrel +with my neighbours' wives." + +Mr. Butterby thought it was of a great deal of moment. He changed the +conversation to something else with apparent carelessness, and then +took a leisurely departure. Turning off at the top of High Street, he +increased his pace, and went direct to the railway station. + +The most intelligent porter employed there was a man named Hall. It +was his duty to be on the platform when trains were starting and, as +the detective had previous cause to know, few of those who departed by +them escaped his observation. The eight o'clock train for London was +on the point of departure. Mr. Butterby waited under some sheds until +it had gone. + +Now for Hall, thought he. As if to echo the words the first person to +approach the sheds was Hall himself. In a diplomatic way, Mr. +Butterby, when he had made known his presence, began putting inquiries +about a matter totally foreign to the one he had come upon. + +"By the way, Hall," he suddenly said, when the man thought he was done +with, "there was a friend of mine went away last Monday evening, but +I'm not sure by which train. I wonder if you happened to see him here? +A well-grown, straight man, with black beard and whiskers--about +thirty." + +Hall considered, and shook his head. "I've no recollection of any one +of that description, sir." + +"Got a blue bag in his hand. He might have went by the five o'clock +train, or later. At eight most likely; this hour, you know." + +"Was he going to London, or the other way, sir?" + +"Can't tell you. Try and recollect." + +"Monday?--Monday?" cried Hall, endeavouring to recal what he could. "I +ought to remember that night, sir, the one of the calamity in High +Street; but the fact is, one day is so much like another here, it's +hard to single out any in particular." + +"Were you on duty last Sunday week, in the afternoon?" + +"Yes, sir; it was my Sunday on." + +"The man I speak of arrived by train that afternoon, then. You must +have seen him." + +"So I did," said the porter, suddenly. "Just the man you describe, +sir; and I remember that it struck me I had seen his face somewhere +before. It might have been only fancy; I had not much of a look at +him; he got mixed with the other passengers, and went away quickly. I +recollect the blue bag." + +"Just so; all right. Now then, Hall: did you see him leave last Monday +evening?" + +"I never saw him, to my recollection, since the time of his arrival. +Stop a bit. A blue bag? Why, it was a blue bag that--And that was +Monday evening. Wait an instant, sir. I'll fetch Bill." + +Leaving the detective to make the most of these detached sentences, +Hall hurried off before he could be stopped. Mr. Butterby turned his +face to the wall, and read the placards there. + +When Hall came back he had a lad with him. And possibly it might have +been well for that lad's equanimity, that he was unconscious the spare +man, studying the advertisements, was the city's renowned detective, +Jonas Butterby. + +"Now then," said Hall, "you tell this gentleman about your getting +that there ticket, Bill." + +"'Twas last Monday evening," began the boy, thus enjoined, "and we was +waiting to start the eight o'clock train. In that there dark corner, I +comes upon a gentleman set down upon the bench; which he called to me, +he did, and says, says he, 'This bag's heavy,' says he, 'and I don't +care to carry it further nor I can help, nor yet to leave it,' says +he, 'for it's got val'able papers in it,' says he; 'if you'll go and +get my ticket for me,' says he, 'third class to Oxford,' says he, +'I'll give you sixpence,' says he: which I did, and took it to him," +concluded the speaker; "and he gave me the sixpence." + +"Did he leave by the train?" + +"Why in course he did," was the reply. "He got into the last third +class at the tail o' the train, him and his bag; which were blue, it +were." + +"An old gentleman, with white hair, was it?" asked Mr. Butterby, +carelessly. + +The boy's round eyes opened. "White hair! Why, 'twas black as ink. And +his beard, too. He warn't old; he warn't." + +Mr. Butterby walked home, ruminating; stirred up his fire when he +arrived, lighted his candles, for he had a habit of waiting on +himself, and sat down, ruminating still. Sundry notes and bits of +folded paper had been delivered for him from his confrères at the +police-station--if Mr. Butterby will not be offended at our classing +them with him as such--but he pushed them from him, never opening one. +He did not even change his coat for the elegant green-tailed habit, +economically adopted for home attire, and he was rather particular in +doing so in general. No: Mr. Butterby's mind was ill at ease: not in +the sense, be it understood, as applied to ordinary mortals; but +things were puzzling him. + +To give Mr. Butterby his due, he was sufficiently keen of judgment; +though he had made mistakes occasionally. Taking the surface of things +only, he might have jumped to the conclusion that a certain evil deed +had been committed by Godfrey Pitman; diving into them, and turning +them about in his practised mind, he saw enough to cause him to doubt +and hesitate. + +"The man's name's as much Pitman as mine is," quoth he, as he sat +looking into the fire, a hand on each knee. "He arrives here on a +Sunday, accosts a stranger he meets accidentally in turning out of the +station, which happened to be Alletha Rye, and gets her to accommodate +him with a week's private lodgings. Thought, she says, the house she +was standing at was hers: and it's likely he did. The man was afraid +of being seen, was flying from pursuit, and dare not risk the +publicity of an inn. Stays in the house nine days, and never stirs out +all the mortal time. Makes an excuse of a cold and relaxed throat for +stopping in; which _was_ an excuse," emphatically repeated the +speaker. "Takes leave on the Monday at half-past four, and goes out to +catch the Birmingham train. Is seen to go out. What brought him back?" + +The question was not, apparently, easy to solve, for Mr. Butterby was +a long while pondering it. + +"He couldn't get back into the house up through the windows or down +through the chimneys; not in anyway but through the door. And the +chances were that he might have been seen going in and coming out. No: +don't think he went back to harm Mr. Ollivera. Rather inclined to say +his announced intention of starting by the five o'clock train to +Birmingham was a blind: he meant to go by the one at eight t'other +way, and went back to wait for it, afeared of hanging about the +station itself or loitering in the streets. It don't quite wash, +neither, that; chances were he might have been seen coming back," +debated Mr. Butterby. + +"Wonder if he has anything to do with that little affair that has just +turned up in Birmingham?" resumed the speaker, deviating to another +thought. "Young man's wanted for that, George Winter: _might_ have +been this very selfsame Godfrey Pitman; and of course might not. +Let's get on. + +"It don't stand to reason that he'd come in any such way into a town +and stop a whole week at the top of a house for the purpose of harming +Mr. Ollivera. Why 'twas not till the Tuesday after Pitman was in, that +the Joneses got the barrister's letter saying he was coming and would +occupy his old rooms if they were vacant. No," decided Mr. Butterby; +"Pitman was in trouble on his own score, and his mysterious movements +had reference to that: as I'm inclined to think." + +One prominent quality in Mr. Butterby was pertinacity. Let him take up +an idea of his own accord, however faint, and it took a vast deal to +get it out of him. An obstinate man was he in his self-conceit. +Anybody who knew Mr. Butterby well, and could have seen his thoughts +as in a glass, might have known he would be slow to take up the doubts +against Godfrey Pitman, because he had already them up against +another. + +"I don't like it," he presently resumed. "Look at it in the best light, +she knows something of the matter; more than she likes to be +questioned about. Put the case, Jonas Butterby. Here's a sober, +sensible, steady young woman, superior to half the women going, +thinking only of her regular duties, nothing to conceal, open and +cheerful as the day. That's how she was till this happened. And now? +Goes home on the Monday night at nigh eleven o'clock (not to speak yet +of what passed up to that hour), sits over the parlour-fire after +other folks had went to bed, 'thinking,' as she puts it. Goes up +later; can't sleep; drops asleep towards morning, and dreams that Mr. +Ollivera's dead. Gets flurried at inquest (_I_ saw it, though others +mightn't); tramps to see him buried, stands on the fresh grave, and +tells the public he did not commit suicide. How does she know he +didn't? Come. Mrs. Jones is ten times sharper-sighted, and she has no +doubt. Says, next, to her sister in confidence (and Dicky repeats it +to me as a choice bit of gossip) that she's haunted by Ollivera's +spirit. + +"I don't like that," pursued Mr. Butterby, after a revolving pause. +"When folks are haunted by dead men's spirits--leastways, fancy they +are--it bodes a conscience not at rest in regard to the dead. To-night +her face was pale and red by turns; her fingers shook so they had to +clutch her work; she won't talk of it; she left the room to avoid me. +And," continued Mr. Butterby, "she was the only one, so far as can +be yet seen, that was for any length of time in the house between +half-past seven and eight on Monday evening. A quarter of an hour +finding a sleeve-pattern! + +"I don't say it was her; I've not got as far as that yet, by a long +way. I don't yet say it was not as the jury brought it in. But she was +in the house for that quarter of an hour, unaccounting for her stay in +accordance with any probability; and I'm inclined to think that +Godfrey Pitman _must have been out of it before the harm was done_. +Nevertheless, appearances is deceitful, deductions sometimes wrong, +and while I keep a sharp eye on the lady, I shall look _you_ up, Mr. +Godfrey Pitman." + +One drawback against the "looking up" was--and Mr. Butterby felt +slightly conscious of it as he rose from his seat before the +fire--that he had never seen Godfrey Pitman in his life; and did not +know whence he came or whither he might have gone. + + + +END OF THE PROLOGUE. + + + + + +PART THE SECOND. +The Story. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +IN THE OFFICE. + + +The morning sun was shining on the house of Greatorex and Greatorex. +It was a busy day in April. London was filling; people were flocking +to town; the season was fairly inaugurated, the law courts were full +of life. + +The front door stood open; the inner door, closed, could be pushed +back at will. It bore a brass plate with the inscription, "Greatorex +and Greatorex, Solicitors," and it had a habit, this inner door, of +swinging-to upon clients' heels as they went out, for the spring was +sharp. In the passage which the door closed in, was a room on either +hand. The one on the left was inscribed outside, "Clerks' Office "; +that on the right, "Mr. Bede Greatorex." + +Mr. Bede Greatorex was in his room today: not his private room; that +lay beyond. It was a moderate-sized apartment, the door in the middle, +the fireplace opposite to it. On the right, between the door and the +near window, was the desk of Mr. Brown; opposite to it, between the +fireplace and far window, stood Mr. Bede Greatorex's desk; two longer +desks ran along the walls towards the lower part of the room. At the +one, in a line with that of Mr. Bede Greatorex, the fireplace being +between them, sat Mr. Hurst, a gentleman who had entered the house for +improvement; at the one on the other side the door, in a line with Mr. +Brown's, sat little Jenner, a paid clerk. Sundry stools and chairs +stood about; a huge map hung above the fireplace; a stone bottle of +ink, some letter-scales, and various other articles more useful than +ornamental, were on the mantel-shelf: altogether, the room was about +as bare and dull as such offices usually are. The door at the end, +marked "Private," opened direct to the private room of Mr. Bede +Greatorex, where he held consultations with clients. + +And he generally sat there also. It was not very often that he came to +his desk in the front office: but he chose to be there on occasions, +and this was one. This side of the house was understood to comprise +the department of Mr. Bede Greatorex; some of the clients of the firm +were his exclusively; that is, when they came they saw him, not his +father; and Mr. Brown was head-clerk and manager under him. + +Bede Greatorex (called generally in the office, "Mr. Bede," in +contradistinction to his father, Mr. Greatorex) sat looking over some +papers taken out of his locked desk. Four years have gone by since you +saw him last, reader; for that prologue to the story with its sad +event, was not enacted lately. And the four years have aged him. His +father was wont to tell him that he had not got over the shock and +grief of John Ollivera's death; Bede's private opinion was that he +never should get over it. They had been as close friends, as dear +brothers; and Bede had been a changed man since. Apart from this grief +and regret and the effect it might have left upon him, suspicions had +also arisen latterly that Bede Greatorex's health was failing; in +short there were indications, fancied or real, that the inward +complaint of which his mother died, might, unless great care were +used, creep upon him. Bede had seen a physician, who would pronounce +no very positive opinion, but believed on the whole that the fears +were without foundation, certainly they were premature. + +Another cause that tended to worry Mr. Bede Greatorex, lay in his +domestic life. More than three years ago now, he had married Miss +Joliffe; and the world, given you know to put itself into everybody's +business and whisper scandal of the best of us, said that in marrying +her, Bede Greatorex had got his pill. She was wilful as the wind; +spent his money right and left; ran him in debt; plunged into gaiety, +show, whirl, all of which her husband hated: she was in fact a +perfect, grave exemplification of that undesirable but expressive +term that threatens to become a household word in our once sober +land--"fast." Three parts of Bede's life--the life that lay apart from +his profession, his routine of office duties--was spent in striving to +keep from his father the extravagance of his wife, and the sums of +money he had to draw for personal expenditure. Bede had chivalric +ideas upon the point; he had made her his wife, and would jealously +have guarded her failings from all: he would have denied, had he been +questioned, that she had any. So far as he was able he would indulge +her whims and wishes; but there was one of them that he could not and +did not: and that related to their place of dwelling. Bede had brought +his wife to the home that had been his mother's, to be its sole +mistress in his late mother's place. It was a large, convenient, +handsome residence (as was previously seen), replete with every +comfort; but after a time Mrs. Bede Greatorex grew discontented. She +wanted to be in a more fashionable quarter; Hyde Park, Belgrave +Square; anywhere amidst the great world. After their marriage Bede had +taken her abroad; and they remained so long there that Mr. Greatorex +began to indulge a private opinion that Bede was never coming back +again. They sojourned in Paris, in Switzerland, in Germany; and +though, when they at length did return, Bede laughingly said he could +not get Louisa home, he had in point of fact been as ready to linger +away from it as she was. The Bedford Square house had been done up +beautifully, and for two years Mrs. Bede found no fault with it; she +had taken to do that lately, and it seemed to grow upon her like a +mania. + +Upstairs now, now at this very moment, when her husband is poring over +his law-puzzles with bent brow, she is studying the advertisements of +desirable houses in the _Times_, almost inclined to go out and take +one on her own account. A charming one (to judge by the description) +was to be had in Park Lane, rent only six hundred a-year, unfurnished. +Money was as plentiful as sand in the idea of Mrs. Bede Greatorex. + +You can go and see her. Through the passages and the intervening door +to the other house; or else go out into the street and make a call of +state at the private entrance. Up the wide staircase to the handsome +landing-place already told of, with its rich green carpet, its painted +windows, its miniature conservatory, and its statues; on all of which +the sun is shining as brightly as it was that other day four years +ago, when Bede Greatorex came home, fresh from the unhappy scenes +connected with the death of Mr. Ollivera. Not into the dining-room; +there's no one in it; there's no one in the large and beautiful +drawing-room; enter, first of all, a small apartment on the side that +they call the study. + +At the table sat Jane Greatorex, grown into a damsel of twelve, but +exceedingly little and childlike in appearance. She was writing French +dictation. By her side, speaking the words in a slow, distinct tone, +with a good and pure accent, sat a young lady, her face one of the +sweetest it was ever man's lot to look upon. The hazel eyes were deep, +honest, steady; the auburn hair lay lightly away from delicate and +well-carved features; the complexion was pure and bright. A slender +girl of middle height, and gentle, winning manners, whose simple +morning dress of light cashmere sat well upon her. + +Surely that modest, good, thoughtful young woman could not be Mrs. +Bede Greatorex! No: you must wait yet an instant for introduction to +her. That is only Miss Jane's governess, a young lady who has but +recently entered on her duties as such, and is striving to perform +them conscientiously. She is very patient, although the little girl is +excessively tiresome, with a strong will of her own, and a decided +objection to lessons of all kinds. She is the more patient because she +remembers what a tiresome child she was herself, at that age, and the +vast amount of trouble she gave wilfully to her sister-governess. + +"No, Jane; it is not _facture_; it is _facteur_. We are speaking of a +postman, you know. The two words are essentially different; different +in meaning, in spelling, and in sound. I explained this to you +yesterday." + +"I don't like doing dictation, Miss Channing," came the answering +response. + +"Go on, please. Le facteur, qui----" + +"I'm tired to death. I know I've done a whole page." + +"You have done three lines. One of these days I will give you a whole +page to do, and then you'll know what a whole page is. Le facteur, qui +arrive----" + +Miss Jane Greatorex suddenly took a large penful of ink, and shook it +deliberately on the copy-book. Leaving them to the contest, in which +be you very sure the governess would conquer, for she was calm, kind, +and firm, we will go to an opposite room, one that Mrs. Bede called +her boudoir. A beautiful room, its paper and panelling of white and +gold, its velvet carpet of delicate tints, its silk curtains of a soft +rose-colour. But neither Mrs. Bede Greatorex, who sat there, nor her +attire was in accordance with the room. + +And, to say the truth, she had only come down from her chamber to get +something left in it the night before: it was her favourite morning +room, but Mrs. Bede was not wont to take up her position in it until +made up for the day. And that was not yet accomplished. Her dark hair +was untidy, her face pale and pasty, her dressing-gown, of a dull red +with gold sprigs on it, sat loose. Seeing the _Times_ on the table, +she had caught it up, and thrown herself back in a reclining chair of +satin-wood and pink velvet, while she looked over the advertisements. +Mrs. Bede Greatorex was tall and showy, and there her beauty ended. As +Louisa Joliffe, she had exercised a charm of manner that fascinated +many, but she kept it for rare occasions now; and, they, always public +ones. She had no children, and her whole life and being were wrapt in +fashion, frivolity, and heartlessness. The graver duties of existence +were wholly neglected by Louisa Greatorex: she seemed to live in +ignorance that such things were. She never so much as glanced at the +solemn thought that there must come a life after this life; she never +for a moment strove to work on for it, or to help another on the +pilgrimage: had she chosen to search her memory, it could not have +returned to her the satisfaction of having ever performed a kind +action. + +One little specimen of her selfishness, her utter disregard for the +claims and feelings of others, shall be given, for it occurred +opportunely. As she sat, newspaper in hand, a young woman opened the +door, and asked leave to speak to her. She was the lady's-maid, and, +as Mrs. Bede looked at her, knitting her brow at the request, she saw +tears stealing down from the petitioning eyes. + +"Could you please let me go out, madam? A messenger has come to say +that my mother is taken suddenly worse: they think she is dying." + +"You can go when I am dressed," replied Mrs. Bede Greatorex. + +"Oh, madam, if you could please to let me go at once! I may not be in +time to see her. Eliz a says she will take my place this morning, if +you will allow her." + +"You can go when I am dressed," was the reiterated, cold, and decisive +answer. "You hear me, Tallet. Shut the door." And the maid withdrew, +her face working with its vain yearning. + +"She's always wanting to go out to her mother," harshly spoke Mrs. +Bede Greatorex, as she settled herself to the newspaper again. + +"One; two; three; four; five. Five houses that seem desirable. Bede +may say what he chooses: in this miserable old house, with its +professional varnish, we don't stay. I'll write at once for +particulars," she added, going to her writing-table, a costly piece of +furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl. + +The writing for particulars took her some little time, three-quarters +of an hour about, and then she went up to be dressed; which ceremony +occupied nearly an hour longer. Tallet might depart then. And thus you +have a specimen of the goodness of heart of Louisa Greatorex. + +But this has been a digression from the morning's business, and we +must return to the husband, whose wish and will she would have liked +to defy, and to the office where he sat. The room was very quiet; +nothing to be heard in it but the scratching of three pens; Mr. +Brown's, Mr. Hurst's, and Mr. Jenner's. This room was not entered +indiscriminately by callers; the opposite door inscribed "Clerks' +Office," was on the swing perpetually. This room was a very sedate +one: as a matter of course so in the presence of Mr. Bede Greatorex; +and the head of it in his absence, Mr. Brown, allowed no opportunity +for discursive gossip. He was as efficient a clerk as Greatorex and +Greatorex had ever possessed; young yet: a tall, slender, silent man, +devoted to his business; about three years, or so, with them now. He +wore a wig of reddish brown, and his whiskers and the hair on his chin +were sandy. + +Bede Greatorex shut some papers into his desk with a click, and began +opening another parchment. "Did you get an answer yesterday, from +Garnett's people, Mr. Hurst?" he suddenly asked. + +"No, sir. I could not see them." + +"Their clerk came in last evening to say we should hear from them +today," interposed Mr. Brown, looking up from his writing to speak. + +It was in these moments--when the clerk's eyes unexpectedly met those +of Mr. Bede Greatorex--that the latter would feel a kind of +disagreeable sensation shoot through him. Over and over again had it +occurred: the first time when Mr. Brown had been in the office but a +day. They were standing talking together on that occasion, when a +sudden fancy took Bede that he had seen the man somewhere before. It +was not to be called a recognition; but a kind of semi-recognition, +vague, indefinite, uncertain, and accompanied by a disagreeable +feeling, which had its rise perhaps in the very uncertainty. + +"Have we ever met before?" Mr. Bede Greatorex had questioned; but Mr. +Brown shook his head, and could not say. A hundred times since then, +when he met the steady gaze of those remarkably light grey eyes +(nearly always bent on their work), had Bede stealthily continued to +study the man; but the puzzle was always there. + +Mr. Brown's eyes and face were bent on his desk again today. His +master, holding a sheet of parchment up before him, as if to study the +writing better, suffered his gaze to wander over its top and fix +itself on Mr. Brown. The clerk, happening to glance up unguardedly, +caught it. + +He was one of the most observant men living, quiet though he seemed, +and could not fail to be aware that he was thus occasionally subjected +to the scrutiny of his master--but he never appeared to see it. + +"Did you speak, sir?" he asked, as if he had looked up to put the +question. + +"I was about to speak," said Mr. Bede Greatorex. "There's a new clerk +coming in today to replace Parkinson. Nine o'clock was the hour fixed, +and now it is half-past ten. If this is a specimen of his habits of +punctuality, I fear he'll not do much good. You will place him at Mr. +Hurst's desk." + +"Very good, sir," replied Mr. Brown, making no comment. The out-going +clerk, Parkinson, had been at Jenner's desk. + +"I am going over to Westminster," continued Mr. Bede Greatorex, +gathering some papers in his hand. "If Garnett's people come in, they +must wait for me. By the way, what about that deed----" + +The words were cut short by a clatter. A clatter and bustle of feet +and doors; someone was dashing in from the street in a desperate +hurry, with a vast deal of unnecessary noise. First the swing-door +gave a bang, then the clerks' door opened and banged; now this one was +sent back with a breeze; and a tall fine-looking young man came +bustling in, head foremost--Mr. Roland Yorke. + +Not so very young, either. For more than seven years have elapsed +since he was of age, and went careering off on a certain hopeful +voyage of his to Port Natal, told of in history. He is changed since +then. The overgrown young fellow of twenty-one, angular and awkward, +has become quite a noble-looking man in his great strength and height. +The face is a fine one, good-nature the predominant expression of the +somewhat rough features, which are pale and clear and healthy: the +indecision that might once have been detected in his countenance, has +given place to earnestness now. Of regular beauty in his face, as many +people count beauty, there is none; but you would scarcely pass him in +the street without turning to look at him. In manner he is nearly as +much of a boy as a grown man can be, just as he ever was, hasty, +thoughtless, and impulsive. + +"I know I'm late," he began. "How d'ye do, Mr. Greatorex?" + +"Yes, you are late, Mr. Yorke," was the response of Mr. Bede +Greatorex, submitting to the hearty handshake offered. "Nine was the +hour named." + +"It was the boat's fault," returned Roland, speaking with loud +independence, just as he might had he been a ten thousand a-year +client of the house. "I went down to see Carrick off at eight o'clock, +and if you'll believe me, the vessel never got away before ten. They +were putting horses on board. Carrick says they'll lose their tide +over yonder; but he didn't complain, he's as easy as an old shoe. +Since then I've had a pitch out of a hansom cab." + +"Indeed!" + +"I told the fellow to drive like mad; which he did; and down went the +horse, and I out atop of him, and the man atop-faced of me. There was no +damage, only it all served to hinder. But I'm ready for work now, Mr. +Greatorex. Which is to be my place?" + +To witness a new clerk announce himself in this loud, familiar kind of +way, to see him grasp and shake the hand of Mr. Bede Greatorex: above +all to hear him speak unceremoniously of the Earl of Carrick, one of +the house's noble clients, as if the two were hail-fellow-well-met, +caused the whole office to look up, even work-absorbed Mr. Brown. Bede +Greatorex indicated the appointed desk. + +"This is where you will be, by the side of Mr. Hurst, a gentleman +who is with us for improvement. Mr. Brown, the manager in this +room"--pointing out the clerk with the end of his pen--"will assign +you your work. Mr. Hurst, Mr. Roland Yorke." + +Roland took his seat at once, and turned up his coat-cuffs as a +preliminary step to industry. Mr. Bede Greatorex, saying no more, +passed through to his private room, and after a minute was heard to go +out. + +"What's to do?" asked Roland. + +Mr. Brown was already giving him something; a deed to be copied. He +spoke a few instructions in a concise, quiet tone, and Roland Yorke +set to work. + +"What ink d'ye call this?" began Roland. + +"It is the proper ink," said Mr. Brown. + +"It's uncommon bad." + +"Have you ever been used to the kind of work, Mr. Yorke?" inquired the +manager, wondering whether the new comer might be a qualified +solicitor, brought to grief, or a gentleman-embryo just entering on +his noviciate. + +"Oh, haven't I!" returned Mr. Yorke; "I was in a proctor's office +once, where I was worked to death." + +"Then you'll soon find that to be good ink." + +"I had all the care of the office on my shoulders," resumed Roland, +holding the pen in the air, and sitting back on his stool while he +addressed Mr. Brown. "There were three of us in the place altogether, +not counting the old proctor himself, and we had enough work for six. +Well, circumstances occurred to take the other two out of the office, +and I, who was left, had to do it all. What do you think of that?" + +Mr. Brown did not say what he thought. He was writing steadily, giving +no encouragement for the continuance of the conversation. Mr. Hurst, +his elbow on the desk, had his face turned to the speaker, surveying +him at leisure. + +"I couldn't stand it; I should have been in my grave in no time; +and so I thought I'd try a part of the world that might be more +desirable--Port Natal. I say, what are you staring at?" + +This was to Mr. Hurst. The latter dropped his elbow as he answered. + +"I was looking whether you were much altered. You are: and yet I think +I should hare known you, after a bit, for Roland Yorke. When the name +was mentioned I might have been at fault, but for your speaking of +Lord Carrick." + +"He's my uncle," said Roland. "Who are you?" + +"Jos Hurst, from Helstonleigh. Have you forgotten me? I was at the +college school with your brothers, Gerald and Tod." + +Roland stared. He had not forgotten Josiah Hurst; but the rather short +and very broad young man by his side, as broad as he was high, bore no +resemblance to the once slim college boy. Roland never doubted: he got +off his stool, upsetting it in the process, to shake heartily the +meeting hand. Mr. Brown began to think the quiet of the office would +not be much enhanced through its new inmate. + +"My goodness! you are the first of the old fellows I've seen. And what +are you, Hurst,--a lawyer?" + +"Yes; I've passed. But the old doctor (at home, you know) won't buy me +a practice, or let me set up for myself, or anything, until I've had +some experience: and so I've come to Greatorex and Greatorex to get +it," concluded Mr. Hurst, ruefully. + +"And who's he?" continued Roland, pointing to Jenner. "Greatorex said +nothing about him." + +He was one of the least men ever seen, but he had a vast amount of +work in him. Mr. Hurst explained that Jenner was only a clerk, but a +very efficient one. + +"He'd do twice the amount of work that I could, Yorke: I'm slow and +sure; Jenner is sure and quick. How long have you been home from Port +Natal?" + +"Don't bother about that now," said Roland. + +"Did you make your fortune out there?" + +"What a senseless question! If I'd made a fortune there, it stands to +reason I should not have come into an office here." + +"How was I to know? You might have made a fortune and dissipated it?" + +"Dissipated it in what?" cried Roland, with wide-open eyes. And to Mr. +Hurst, who had gained some knowledge of what is called life, the look +and the question bore earnest that Roland Yorke, in spite of his +travelling experiences, was not much tainted by the world and its +ways. + +"Oh, in many things. Horse-racing, for instance." + +Roland threw back his head in the old emphatic manner. "If ever I _do_ +get a fortune, Jos,--which appears about as likely as that Port Natal +and Ireland should join hands and spin a waltz with each other--I'll +take care of it." + +Possibly in the notion occurring to him that idleness was certainly +not the best way to acquire a fortune, Roland tilted his stool on its +even legs, and began to work in earnest. When he had accomplished two +lines, he took it to the manager. + +"Will this do, Mr. Brown? I'm rather out of practice." + +Mr. Brown signified that it would. He knew his business better than to +give anything of much consequence to an unknown and untried clerk. + +"Are you related to Sir Richard Yorke?" he asked of Roland. + +"Yes, I am; and I'm ashamed of him. Old Dick's my uncle, my late +father's brother; and his son and heir, young Dick, is my cousin. Old +Dick is the greatest screw alive; he'd not help a fellow to save him +from hanging. He's as poor as Carrick; but I don't call that an excuse +for him; his estate is mortgaged up to the neck." + +Mr. Brown needed not the additional information, which Roland +proffered so candidly. His nature had not changed a whit. Nay, perhaps +the free and easy life at Port Natal, about which we may hear somewhat +later, had only tended to render him less reticent, if that were +possible. Greatorex and Greatorex were the confidential solicitors to +Sir Richard Yorke, and Mr. Brown was better acquainted than Roland +with the baronet's finances. + +"I thought it must be so," remarked Mr. Brown. "I knew there was some +connection between Sir Richard and Lord Garrick. Are you likely to +stay in our office long?" he questioned, inwardly wondering that +Roland with two uncles so puissant should be there at all. + +"I am likely to stay for ever, for all I know. They are going to give +me twenty shillings a week. I say, Mr. Brown, why do you wear a wig?" + +Doubtless Mr. Brown thought the question a tolerably pointed one upon +so brief an acquaintance. He settled to his work again without +answering it. A hint that the clerk, just come under his wing, might +return and settle to his. Which was not taken. + +"My hair is as plentiful as ever it was," said Roland, giving his dark +hair a push backwards. "I don't want a wig; and you can't be so very +much my senior; six or seven years, perhaps. I am eight-and-twenty." + +"And I am three-and-thirty, sir. My hair came off in a fever a few +years back, and it does not grow again. Be so good as to get on with +what you have to do, Mr. Yorke." + +Thus admonished, Roland obediently sought his place. And what with +renewed questions to Mr. Brown--that came ringing out at the most +unexpected moments--what with a few anecdotes of life at Port Natal +with which he confidently regaled Mr. Hurst, what with making the +acquaintance of little Jenner, which Roland accomplished with great +affability, and what with slight interludes of writing, a line here +and a line there, the morning wore away agreeably. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +ARRIVAL FROM PORT NATAL. + + +Mr. Roland Yorke's emigration to Port Natal cannot be said to have +turned out a success. He had gone off in high spirits, a chief cabin +passenger, Lord Carrick having paid the passage money, forty pounds. +He had carried with him, from the same good-natured source, fifty +pounds, to begin life with when he should land, a small but sufficient +outfit, and a case of merchandize consisting of frying-pans. Seven +years, before, when Roland resolved to emigrate and run away from work +at home, he became imbued with the conviction (whence derived, he +scarcely knew, but it lay on his mind as a positive certainty) that +frying-pans formed the best and most staple article on which to +commence trading at Port Natal, invariably the foundation of a +fortune. Some friend of his, a Mr. Bagshaw, who had previously +emigrated, had imparted this secret to him; at least, Roland was +impressed with the belief that he had; a belief which nothing could +shake. Frying-pans and fortune were associated together in his dreams. +He stood out strongly for the taking out forty dozen, but Lord Carrick +declined to furnish them, allowing only the miserable number of +four-and-twenty. "When ye see for ye'reself out there that there's a +market for them, send me word, and I'll dispatch loads to ye by the +first steamer, me boy," said his lordship sensibly; and Roland was fain +to put up with the advice and with the two dozen accorded. He arrived +at Port Natal, all youth and joy and buoyancy. Seen from the deck of +the vessel, when she anchored in the beautiful harbour, calm as a lake, +Natal looked a very paradise. Ranges of hills on the west of the fair +town were dotted with charming houses and pleasure grounds; and Roland +landed fresh and full of hope as a summer's morning: just as too many +an emigrant from the dear old mother-country does land, at other parts +besides Natal. And he bought experience as they do. + +In the first place, Roland began life there as he had been accustomed +to do it in England; that is, as a gentleman. In the second place +there proved to be no especial market for frying-pans. That useful +culinary article might be bought in sufficient abundance, he found, +when inquired for, without bringing into requisition the newly-arrived +supply. The frying-pans being thus left upon his hands, lying like a +dead weight on them, metaphorically speaking, brought the first check +to his hopes; for they had been relied upon (as the world knows) to +inaugurate and establish the great enterprizes, commercial or +otherwise, that had floated in rose-coloured visions through Roland's +brain. He quitted the port town, Durban, and went to Maritzburg, fifty +miles off, and then came back to Durban. Thrown upon his own resources +(through the failure of the frying-pans), Roland had leisure to look +about him, for some other fertile source in which to embark his genius +and energy, and lead him on to speedy fortune. Such resources did not +appear to be going begging; they were coyly shy; or at least came not +flowing in Roland's way; and meanwhile his money melted. Partly in +foolish expenditure on his own account, partly in helping sundry poor +wights, distressed steerage passengers with whom he had made +acquaintance on board (for Roland had brought out his good-nature with +him), the money came to a summary end. One fine morning, Roland woke +up from a dream of idle carelessness, to find himself changing the +last sovereign of all the fifty. It did not dismay him very much: all +he said was, "I must set about money-making in earnest now." + +Of course the great problem was--how to do it. You, my reader, may be, +even now, trying to solve it. Thousands of us are, every day. Roland +Yorke made but one more of a very common experience; and he had to +encounter the usual rubs incidental to the process. He came to great +grief and was reduced to a crust; nay, to the not knowing where the +crust could be picked up from. The frying-pans went first, disposed of +in a job lot, almost literally for an old song. Some man who owned a +shed had, for a consideration, housed the case that contained them, +and they were eating their handles off. Roland's wardrobe went next, +piece-meal; and things fell to the pass that Roland was not sure +but he himself would have to go after it. It came to one of two +things--starvation or work. To do Roland justice, he was ready and +willing to work; but he knew no mechanical trade; he had never done an +hour's hard labour, and in that lay the difficulty of getting it. He +would rush about from office to store, hunger giving him earnestness, +from store to workshop, from workshop to bench, and say, Employ me. For +the most part, the answer would be that he was not wanted; the labour +market of all kinds was overstocked; but if the application appeared, +by rare chance, likely to be entertained, and Roland was questioned of +his experience and capabilities, rejection was sure to follow. He was +too honest, too shallow in the matter of tact, to say he had been +accustomed to work when he had not; and the experience in copying +which he acknowledged and put forth, was somehow never required to be +tested. To hear Roland tell of what he had accomplished in this line +at home, must have astonished the natives of Port Natal. + +Well, time went on; it does not stand still for any one; and Roland +went on with it, down and down and down. Years went on; and one rainy +day, when about four winters had gone by from the date of his +departure, Roland returned to England. He landed in St. Katharine's +Docks, his coat out at elbows and ninepence in his pocket: as an old +friend of his, Mr. Galloway, had once prophesied he would land, if he +lived to get back at all. + +Mr. Roland Yorke had sailed for Port Natal in style, a first-class +cabin passenger; he came home in the steerage, paying twelve pounds +for the passage, and working out part of that. From thence he made his +way to Lord Carrick in Ireland, very much like a bale of returned +goods. + +The best account he gave of his travels to Lord Carrick, perhaps the +best account he could give, was that he had been "knocking about." +Luck had not been with him, he said; and there really did seem to have +been a good deal in that. To hear him tell of his adventures was +something rich; not consecutively as a history, he never did that: but +these chance recollections were so frequent and diffuse, that a +history of his career at Natal might have been compiled from them. The +Earl would hold his sides, laughing at Roland's lamentations for the +failure and sacrifice of his frying-pans, and at the reminiscences in +general. A life of adventure one week, a life of starvation the next. +Roland said he had tried all kinds of things. He had served in stores; +at bars where liquor was dispensed; he had been a hired waiter at half +the hotels in Natal; he had worked on the shore with the half-naked +Zulu Kaffirs at lading and unlading boats; once, for a whole week, +when he was very hard up, or perhaps very low _down_, he had cried hot +potatoes in the streets. He had been a farmer's labourer and driven a +waggon, pigs, and cattle. He had been sub-editor in a newspaper +office, _The Natal Mercury_, and one unlucky day sent the journal out +with its letters printed upside down. He had hired himself out as +chemist's assistant, and half ruined his master by his hopeless +inability to distinguish between senna and tincture of laudanum, so +that the antidotes obliged to be supplied to the hapless customers who +came rushing for them, quite outweighed the profits. Occasionally he +met with friends who assisted him, and then Roland was at ease--for +his propensity to live as a gentleman was for ever cropping up. Up and +down; down and up; now fortune smiling a little, but for the most part +showing herself very grim, and frowning terribly. Roland had gone (as +he called it) up the country, and amidst other agreeable incidents +came to a fight with the Kaffirs. He took out a licence, the cost +thirty shillings, and opened a retail store for pickled pork, candles, +and native leeches, the only articles he could get supplied him on +trust. His fine personal appearance, ready address, evident +scholarship, and hearty frank manners, obtained for him a clerkship in +the Commercial and Agricultural Bank, recently opened, and he got into +so hopeless a maze with the books and cash by the week's end, that he +was turned off without pay. Architecture was tried next. Roland sent +in a graphic plan as competitor for the erection of a public building; +and the drawing--which he had copied from a model, just as he used to +copy cribs in the college school at Helstonleigh--looked so well upon +paper that the arbitrators were struck with admiration at the +constructive talent displayed, until one of them made the abrupt +discovery that there were no staircases and no room left to build any. +So, that hope was abandoned for a less exalted one; and Roland was +glad to become young man at a general store, where the work was light: +alternating between dispensing herrings and treacle (called there +golden syrup) to customers over the counter, and taking out parcels in +a wheelbarrow. + +But there was good in Roland. And a great deal of it too, in spite of +his ill-luck and his careless improvidence. The very fact of his +remaining away four years, striving manfully with this unsatisfactory +life of toil and semi-starvation, proved it. The brown bread and +pea-soup Mr. Galloway had foreseen he would be reduced to live on, was +often hungered for by Roland in vain. He put up with it all; and not +until every chance seemed to have failed, would he go home to tax his +uncle's pocket, and to disappoint his mother. A sense of shame, of +keen, stinging mortification, no doubt lay at the bottom of this +feeling against return. He had been so sanguine, as some of my readers +may remember; and as he, sitting one day on a roadside stone in the +sand, towards the close of his stay in Natal, recalled; so full of +hopeful, glowing visions in the old home, that his mother, the Lady +Augusta Yorke, had caught their reflection. Roland's castles in the +air cannot have slipped yet out of people's memory. He had represented +to his mother; aye, and believed it too; that Port Natal was a kind of +Spanish El Dorado, where energetic young men might line their pockets +in a short while, and come home millionaires for life. He had indulged +large visions and made magnificent promises on the strength of them, +beginning with a case of diamonds to his mother, and ending--nobody +but Roland could have any conception where. Old debts were to be paid, +friends benefited, enemies made to eat humble-pie. Mr. Galloway was to +be passed in the street by Mr. Roland Yorke, the millionaire; the +Reverend William Yorke to have the cold shoulder turned upon him. +Arthur Channing was to be honoured; Jenkins, the hard-working clerk, +who had thought nothing of doing Roland's work as well as his own, to +be largely patronised; within three months after his arrival in Port +Natal, funds were to be dispatched home to settle claims that might be +standing against Roland in Helstonleigh. That there could be the +slightest doubt he should come back "worth millions," Roland never +supposed; he had talked of it everywhere--and talked faithfully. Poor +Jenkins had long gone where worldly patronage and gifts could not +follow him, but others had not. Roland remembered how his confident +anticipations had so won upon his mother, that she went to bed and +dreamt of driving about a charming city, whose streets were paved with +Malachite marble. + +And so, recalling these visions and promises, Roland, for very +disappointment and shame, was not in a hurry to go back, but rather +lingered on in Port Natal, struggling manfully with his ill-luck, as +he called it. Pride and good-feeling alike prevented him. To appear +before Lady Augusta, poor, starving, hatless, and bootless, would be +undoubtedly a worse blow to her than that other alternative which he +(forgetting his height and weight) had laid before her view: the one, +he said, might happen if he did _not_ get to Port Natal--the riding as +a jockey on Helstonleigh race-course, in a pink silk jacket and yellow +breeches. + +No. He did try heartily with all his might and main; tried at it for +four mortal years. Beyond a scrap of writing he now and again sent +home, in which he always said he was "well, and happy, and keeping +straight, and getting on," but which never contained a request for +home news, or an address to which it might be sent, Lady Augusta heard +nothing. Nobody else heard. One letter, indeed, reached a bosom friend +of his, Arthur Channing, which was burnt when read, as requested, and +Arthur looked grieved for a month after. He had told Arthur the truth; +that he was not getting on; but under an injunction of secrecy, and +giving no details. Beyond that, no news reached home of Roland. + +His fourth year of trial at Port Natal was drawing to a close when +illness seized hold of him, and for the first time Roland felt as if +he were losing heart. It was not serious illness, only such as is apt +to attack visitors to the country, and from which Roland's strength of +frame, sound constitution, and good habits--for he had no bad ones, +unless a great appetite might be called such--had hitherto preserved +him. But, what with the wear and tear of his chequered life, its +uncertain food, a plentiful dinner today, bread and beans tomorrow, +nothing the following one, and its harassing and continuous +disappointments, Roland felt the illness as a depressing calamity; and +he began to say he could not make head against the tide any longer, +and must get away from it. He might have to eat humble-pie on landing +in England; but humble-pie seems tolerable or nauseous according to +the existing state of mind; and it is never utterly poisonous to one +of the elastic temperament of Roland Yorke. In a fit of impulse he +went down to the ships and made the best bargain for getting home that +circumstances allowed. He had been away more than four years, and +never once, during that time, had he written home for money. + +And so, behold him, out at pocket (except for ninepence) and out at +elbows, but wonderfully improved in tone and physique, arriving in +London early one rainy morning from Port Natal, and landing in the +docks. + +The first thing he did was to divide the ninepence with one who was +poorer than he; the second was to get a cup of coffee and a slice of +bread at a street coffee-stall; the third was to hasten to Lord +Carrick's tailor--and a tremendous walk it was, but that was nothing +to Roland--and get rigged out in any second-hand suit of clothes +returned on hand that might be decent. There ill news awaited him; it +was the time of year when Lord Carrick might, as a rule, be found in +London; but he had not come; he was, the tailor believed, in Ireland. +Roland at once knew, as sure as though it had been told him, that his +uncle was in some kind of pecuniary hot water. Borrowing the very +smallest amount of money that would take him to Ireland, he went off +down the Thames in a return cattleboat that very day. + +Since that period, hard upon three years, he had been almost equally +"knocking about," and experienced nearly as many ups and downs in +Ireland as at Port Natal. Sometimes living in clover with Lord +Carrick, at others thrown on his own resources and getting on somehow. +Lord Carrick's will was good to help him, but not always his ability; +now and again it had happened that his lordship (who was really more +improvident than his nephew, and had to take flights to the Continent +on abrupt emergencies and without a day's warning) was lost to society +for a time, even to Roland. Roland hired himself out as a kind of +overlooker to some absentee's estate, but he could not get paid for +it. This part of his career need not be traced; on the whole, he did +still strive to do something for himself as strenuously as he had at +Port Natal, and not to be a burthen to anybody, even to Lord Carrick. + +To this end he came over to London, and presented himself one day to +his late father's brother, Sir Richard Yorke, and boldly asked him if +he could not "put him into something." The request caused Sir Richard +(an old gentleman with a fat face) to stare immensely; he was very +poor and very selfish, and had persistently held himself aloof from +his late brother's needy family, keeping them always at arm's length. +His son and heir had been content to do the same: in truth, the +cousins did not know each other by sight. Sir Richard's estate was +worth four thousand a-year, all told; and as he was wont to live at +the rate of six, it will be understood that he was never in funds. +Neither had he patronage or influence in anyway. To be thus summarily +applied to by a stalwart young man, who announced himself as his +nephew, took the baronet aback; and if he did not exactly turn Roland +out of the house, his behaviour was equivalent to it "I'll be shot if +I ever go near him again," cried Roland. "I'd rather cry hot pies in +Poplar streets." + +A day or two previously, in sauntering about parts of London least +frequented by men of the higher class--for when we are very much down +in the world we don't exactly choose the region of St. James's for our +promenades, or the sunny side of Regent Street--Roland had +accidentally met one of the steerage passengers with whom he had +voyaged home from Port Natal. Ever open-hearted, he had frankly avowed +the reason of being unable to treat his friend; namely, empty pockets: +he was not sure, he added, but he must take to crossing-sweeping for a +living; he heard folks made fortunes at it. Upon this the gentleman, +who wore no coat and very indifferent pantaloons, confided to him the +intelligence that there was a first-rate opening in the perambulating +hot-pie trade, down in Poplar, for an energetic young man with a +sonorous voice. Roland, being great in the latter gift, thought he +might entertain it. + +Things were at a low ebb just then with Roland. Lord Carrick, as +usual, was totally destitute of ready money; and Roland, desperately +anxious though he was to get along of his own accord, was fain to +write to his mother for a little temporary help. One cannot live upon +air in London, however that desirable state of things may be +accomplished at Port Natal. But the application was made at an +inopportune moment. Every individual boy Lady Augusta possessed was +then tugging at her purse-strings; and she returned a sharp answer to +Roland, telling him he ought to be ashamed of himself not to be +helping her, now that he was the eldest, instead of wanting her to +keep him. George, the eldest son, had died in India, which brought +Roland first. + +"It's true," said Roland, in a reflective mood, "I ought to be helping +her. I wonder if Carrick could put me into anything, as old Dick +won't. Once let me get a start, I'm bound to go on, and the mother +should be the first to benefit by it." + +A short while after this, and when Roland was far more at his wits' +end for a shilling than he had ever been at Port Natal--for there he +had no appearance to keep up, and here he had; there he could encamp +out in the sand, here he couldn't--Lord Carrick arrived suddenly in +London, in a little trouble as usual. Some warm-hearted friend had +induced his good-natured lordship to accept a short bill, and +afterwards treacherously left him to meet it. So Lord Carrick was +again en route for the Continent, until his men of business, Greatorex +and Greatorex, could arrange the affair for him by finding the +necessary money. Halting in London a couple of days, to confer with +them on that and other matters--for Lord Carrick's affairs altogether +were complicated and could not be touched upon in an hour--Roland +seized on the opportunity to prefer the application. And this brings +us to the present time. + +When under a cloud, and not quite certain that the streets were safe, +the Earl was wont to eschew his hotel at the west end, and put up at a +private one in a more obscure part. Roland, having had notice of his +arrival, clattered in to breakfast with him on the morning of the +second day, and entered on his petition forthwith--to be put into +something. + +"Anything for a start, Uncle Carrick," he urged. "No matter how low I +begin: I'll soon go along swimmingly, once I get the start. I can't go +about here, you know, with my toes out, as I have over yonder. It's +awful work getting a dinner only once a week. I've had thoughts of +crying hot pies in Poplar." + +To judge by the breakfast Roland was eating, he had been a week +without that meal as well as dinner. Lord Carrick, looking at the +appetite with admiration, sat pulling his white whiskers in +perplexity; for the grey hair of seven years ago had become white now. +His heart was good to give Roland the post of Prime Minister, or any +other trifling office, but he did not see his way clear to accomplish +it. + +"Me boy, there's only one thing I can do for ye just now," he said +after silently turning the matter about in all its bearings, and +hearing the explanation of the Poplar project. "Ye know I must be off +tomorrow by the early French steamer, and I can't go about looking +after places today, even if I knew where they could be picked up, +which I don't. I must leave ye to Greatorex and Greatorex." + +"What will they do?" asked Roland. + +"You can come along with me there, and see." + +Accordingly, when the Earl of Carrick went forth to his appointed +interview that day with Mr. Greatorex, he presented Roland; and simply +told the old lawyer that he must put him in a way of getting along, +until he, Lord Carrick, was in funds again. Candid and open as ever +Roland could be, the Earl made no secret whatever of that gentleman's +penniless state, enlarging on the fact that to go dinnerless, as a +rule, could not be good for him, and that he should not exactly like +to see him set up as a hot-pie man in Poplar. Mr. Greatorex, perhaps +nearly as much taken to as Sir Richard Yorke had been on a similar +occasion, glanced at his son Bede who was present, and hesitated. He +did not refuse point blank--as he might have done by almost anybody +else. Lord Carrick was a valuable client, his business yearly bringing +in a good share of feathers to the Greatorex nest, and old Mr. +Greatorex was sensible of the fact. Still, he did not see what he +could do for one who, like Roland, was in the somewhat anomalous +position of being nephew to an earl and a baronet, but reduced to +contemplate the embarking in the hot-pie trade. + +"We might give him a stool in our office, Lord Carrick, for it happens +that we are a clerk short: and pay him--pay him--twenty shillings a +week. As a temporary thing, of course." + +To one who had not had a dinner for days, twenty shillings a week +seems an ample fortune; and Roland started up and grasped the elder +lawyer's hand. + +"I'll earn it," he said, his tone and eyes alike beaming with +gratitude. "I'll work for you till I drop." + +Mr. Greatorex smiled. "The work will not be difficult, Mr. Yorke; +writing, and going on errands occasionally. If you do come," he +pointedly added, "you must be ready to perform anything you may be +directed to do, just as a regular clerk does." + +"Ready and willing too," responded Roland. + +"We have room for a certain number of clerks only," proceeded Mr. +Greatorex, who was desirous that there should be no misunderstanding +in the bargain; "each one has his appointed work and must get through +it. Can you copy deeds?" + +"_Can't_ I," unceremoniously replied Roland. "I was nearly worked to +death with old Galloway, of Helstonleigh." + +"Were you ever with him?" cried Mr. Greatorex in surprise to whom Mr. +Galloway was known. + +"Yes, for years; and part of the time had all the care of the office +on my shoulders," was Roland's ready answer. "There was only Galloway +then, beside myself, and _he_ was not good for much. Why! the amount +of copying I had to do was so great, I thought I should have dropped +into my grave. Lord Carrick knows it." + +Lord Carrick did, in so far as that he had heard Roland repeatedly +assert it, and nodded assent. Mr. Greatorex thought the services of so +experienced a clerk must be invaluable to any house, and felt charmed +to have secured them. + +And that is how it arose that Roland Yorke, as you have seen, was +entering the office of Greatorex and Greatorex. He was to be a clerk +there to all intents and purposes; just as he had been in the old days +at Mr. Galloway's; and yet, when he came in that morning, after his +summerset out of the hansom cab, with a five-pound note in his pocket +that Lord Carrick had contrived to spare for him, and an order for +unlimited credit at his lordship's tailor's, hatter's, and +bootmaker's, Roland's buoyant heart and fate were alike radiant, as if +he had suddenly come into a fortune. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +UNEXPECTED MEETINGS. + + +"You can go to your dinner, Mr. Yorke." + +The clocks were striking one, as Brown, the manager, gave the +semi-order. Roland, to whom dinner was an agreeable interlude, +especially under the circumstances of having money in his pocket to +pay for it, leaped off his stool forthwith, and caught up his hat. + +"Are you not coming, Hurst?" + +Mr. Hurst shook his head. "Little Jenner goes now. I stay until he +comes back." + +Little Jenner had been making preparation to go of his own accord, +brushing his hat, drawing down his waistcoat, pushing gingerly in +order his mass of soft fair hair. He was remarkably small; and these +very small men are often very great dandies. Roland, who had shaken +off the old pride in his rubs with the world, waited for him outside. + +"Jenner, d'ye know of a good dining-place about here?" he asked, as +they stood together, looking like a giant and a dwarf. + +The clerk hesitated whether to say he did or did not. The place that +he considered good might not appear so to the nephew of Sir Richard +Yorke. + +"I generally go to a house in Tottenham Court Road, sir. It's a kind +of cook's shop, clean, and the meat excellent; but one sees all kinds +of people there, and you may not think it up to you." + +"Law, bless you!" cried Roland. "When a fellow has been knocked about +for four years in the streets of Port Natal, he doesn't retain much +ceremony. Let's get on to it. Do you know of any lodgings to be let in +these parts, Jenner?" he continued again. "I shall get some as near to +Greatorex's as I can. One does not want a three or four miles' dance +night and morning." + +Jenner said he did not know of any, but would help Mr. Yorke to look +for some that evening if he liked. And they had turned into Tottenham +Court Road, when Jenner halted to speak to someone he encountered: a +little woman, very dark, who was bustling by with a black and white +flat basket in her hand. + +"How d'ye do, Mrs. Jones? How's Mr. Ollivera?" + +"Now, I've not got the time to stand bothering with you, Jenner," was +the tart retort. "Call in any evening you like, as I've told you +before; but I'm up to my eyes in errands now." + +Roland Yorke, whose attention had been attracted to something in a +shop-window, wheeled round on his heel at the voice, and stared at the +speaker. Jenner had called her Mrs. Jones; but Roland fully believed +no person in the world could own that voice, save one. A voice that +struck on every chord of his memory, as connected with Helstonleigh. + +"It _is_ Mrs. Jenkins!" cried Roland, seizing the stranger's hands. +"What on earth does he mean by calling you Mrs. Jones?" + +"Ah," she groaned, "I am Mrs. Jones, more's the shame and pity. Let it +pass for now, young Mr. Yorke. I should have known you anywhere." + +"You don't mean to say you are living in London?" returned Roland. + +"Yes, I am. In Gower Street. Come and see me, Mr. Yorke; Jenner will +show you the house. Did you make your fortune at Port Natal? You'd +always used to be telling Jenkins, you know, that you should." + +"And I thought I _should_," said Roland, with emphasis; "but I got no +luck, and it turned out a failure. _Won't_ I come and see you! I say, +Mrs. Jenkins, do you remember the toasted muffins that Jenkins +wouldn't eat?" + +Mrs. Jones nodded twice to the reminiscence. She went bustling on her +way, and they on theirs. Roland for once was rather silent. Mingling +with the satisfaction he experienced in meeting any one from +Helstonleigh, especially one so associated with the old familiar daily +life as Mrs. Jenkins had been, came the thoughts of the years since; +of the defeats and failures; of the mortification that invariably lay +on his heart when he had to tell of them and of what they had brought +him. He had now met two of the old people in one day; Hurst and Mrs. +Jones; or, as Roland still called her, Mrs. Jenkins. Cords would not +have dragged Roland to Helstonleigh: his mother, with the rest of them +at home, had come over to Ireland to stay part of the summer at Lord +Carrick's, soon after Roland's return from Port Natal; but he would +not go to see them at the old home city. With the exception of scraps +of news learnt from Hurst that day, Roland knew nothing about +Helstonleigh's later years. + +"Look here, Jenner! What brings her name Jones? It used to be +Jenkins." + +"I think I have heard that it was Jenkins once," replied Jenner, +reflectively. "She must have married Jones after Jenkins died. Did you +know him?" + +"Did I know him?" echoed Roland, to whom the question sounded a very +superfluous one. "I should just think I did know him. Why, he was +chief clerk for years to Galloway, that cantankerous old proctor I was +with. Jenkins was a good fellow as ever lived, meek and patient, and +of course Mrs. J. put upon him. She'd not allow him to have his will +in the smallest way: he couldn't dress himself in a morning unless she +chose to let him. Which she didn't always." + +"Not let him dress himself?" + +"It's true," affirmed Roland, diving down into the depth of the old +grievances. "Our office was in an awful state of work at that time; +and because Jenkins had a cough she'd lock up his pantaloons to keep +him at home. It wasn't his fault; he'd have come in his coffin. Jones +whoever he may be, must have had the courage of a wolf to venture on +her. Does he look like one?" + +"I never saw him," said Jenner. "I think he's dead, too." + +"Couldn't stand it, I suppose? My opinion is, it was her tongue took +off poor Jenkins. He was mild as honey. Not that she's a bad lot at +bottom, mind you, Jenner. I wonder what brought her to London?" + +"I don't know anything about her affairs," said Jenner. "The Rev. +Henry William Ollivera has his rooms in her house. And I go to see him +now and then. That's all." + +"Who is the Rev. William Ollivera?" + +"Curate of a parish hard by. His brother, a barrister, had chambers in +Lincoln's Inn, and I was his clerk. Four years ago he went the Oxford +circuit, and came to his death at Helstonleigh. It was a shocking +affair, and happened in the Joneses' house. They lived at Helstonleigh +then. Mrs. Jones's sister went in one morning and found him dead in +his chair." + +"My goodness!" cried Roland. "Was it a fit?" + +"Worse than that. He took away his own life. And I have never been +able to understand it from that hour to this, for he was the most +unlikely man living to do such a thing--as people all said. The +Greatorexes interested themselves to get me a fresh place, giving me +some temporary work in their office. It ended in my remaining with +them. They find me useful, and pay me well. It's four years now, sir, +since it happened." + +"Just one year before I got home from Natal," casually remarked +Roland. + +"He sends for me sometimes," continued Mr. Jenner, pursuing his own +thoughts, which were running on the clergyman. "When any fresh idea +occurs to him, he'll write off for me, post haste; and when I get +there he puts all sorts of questions to me, about the old times in +Lincoln's Inn. You see, he has always held that Mr. Ollivera did not +kill himself, and has been ever since trying to get evidence to prove +he did not. The hope never seems to grow old with him, or to rest; it +is as fresh and near as it was the day he first took it up." + +Roland felt a little puzzled. "Did Mr. Ollivera kill himself, or +didn't he? Which do you mean?" + +Jenner shook his head. "I think he did, unlikely though it seemed. All +the circumstances proved it, and nobody doubted it except the Rev. Mr. +Ollivera. Bede Greatorex, who was the last person to see him alive, +thinks there can be no doubt whatever; I overheard him say it was just +one of William Ollivera's crotchets, and not the first by a good many +that he had taken up. The clergyman used to be for ever coming into +the office talking of it, saying should he do this or do the other, +until Bede told him he couldn't have it; that it interrupted the +business." + +"What has Bede Greatorex to do with it? Why should Ollivera come to +him?" + +"Bede Greatorex has nearly as much to do with it as the clergyman. He +and the two Olliveras were cousins. Bede Greatorex was awfully cut at +the death: he'd be glad to see there was doubt attending it; but he, +as a sensible man, can't see it. They buried Mr. Ollivera like a dog." + +"What did they do that for?" + +"The verdict was felo-de-se. Mr. Hurst can tell you all about it, sir; +he was at Helstonleigh at the time: he says he never saw such a scene +in his life as the funeral. It was a moonlight night, and half the +town was there." + +"I'll get it all out of him," quoth Roland, who had not lost in the +smallest degree his propensity to indulge in desultory gossip. + +"Don't ask him in the office," advised Jenner. "Brown would stop you +at the first word. He never lets a syllable be dropped upon the +subject. I asked him one day what it was to him, and he answered that +it was not seemly to allude to the affair in the house, as Mr. +Ollivera had been a connection of it. My fancy is that Brown must have +known something of it at the time, and does not like it mentioned on +his own score," confidentially added little Jenner, who was of a +shrewd turn. "I saw him change colour once over it." + +"Who _is_ Brown?" questioned Roland. + +"That's more than I can say," was the reply. "He's an uncommonly +efficient clerk; but, once out of the office, he keeps himself to +himself, and makes friends with none of us. Here we are, sir." + +The eating-house, however unsuitable it might have been to one holding +his own as the nephew of an English baronet, to say nothing of an +Irish peer, was welcome as sun in harvest to hungry Roland. He ordered +a magnificent dinner, off-hand: three plates of meat each, three of +tart; vegetables, bread and beer _ad libitum_: paid for the whole, +changing his five-pound note, and gave a shilling to the man who +waited on them. Little Jenner went out with his face shining. + +"We must make the best of our way back, Mr. Yorke. Time's up." + +"Oh, is it, though," cried Roland. "I'm not going back yet. I shall +take a turn round to see Mrs. Jenkins; there are five hundred things I +want to ask her." + +One can only be civil to a man who has just treated one to a good +dinner, and Jenner did not like to tell Roland pointblank that he had +better not go anywhere but to the office. + +"They are awfully strict about time in our place," cried he; "and we +are busy just now. I must make haste back, sir." + +"All right," said easy Roland. "Say I am coming." + +His long legs went flying off in the direction of Gower Street, Jenner +having given him the necessary instructions to find it; and he burst +clattering in upon Mrs. Jones in her sitting-room without the least +ceremony, very much as he used to do in the old days when she was Mrs. +Jenkins. Mrs. Jones had been for some time now given to wish that she +had not changed her name. Doing very well as the widow Jenkins, years +ago, in her little hosier's shop in High Street, Helstonleigh, what +was her mortification to find one day that the large and handsome +house next door, with its shop-windows of plate-glass, had been opened +as another hosier's by a Mr. Richard Jones. Would customers continue +to come to her plain and unpretending mart, when that new one, grand, +imposing, and telling of an unlimited stock within, was staring them +in the face? The widow Jenkins feared not; and fretted herself to +fiddle-strings. + +The fear might have had no cause of foundation: the show kept up at +the adjoining house was perhaps founded on artificial bases, rather +than real. Richard Jones (whom the city had already begun to designate +as Dicky) turned out to be of a sociable nature; he made her +acquaintance whether she would or no, and suddenly proposed to her to +unite the two businesses in one, by making herself, and her stock, and +her connection, over to him. Mrs. Jenkins's first impulse was to throw +at his head the nearest parcel that came to hand. Familiarity with an +idea, however, sometimes reconciles the worst adversary; as at length +it did Mrs. Jenkins to this. To give her her due, she took no account +whatever of Mr. Jones in the matter; he went for nothing, a bale of +waste flung in to make weight, she should rule him just as she had +ruled Jenkins; her sole temptation was the flourishing shop, à côté, +and the good, well-furnished house. So Mrs. Jenkins exchanged her name +for that of Jones, and removed, bag and baggage; resigning the +inferior home that had so long sheltered her. It was close upon this, +that one of the barristers, coming in to the summer assizes at +Helstonleigh, took apartments at Mrs. Jones's. That was Mr. Ollivera: +and in the following March, when he again came in, occurred his +tragical ending. + +Before this, long before it, Mrs. Jones had grown to realize to +herself the truth of the homely proverb, All's not gold that glitters. +Mr. Jones's connection did not prove to be of the most extensive kind; +far from it; the large, imposing stock turned out to be three parts +dummies; and she grew to believe--to see--that his motive in marrying +her was to uphold his newly-established business by beguiling to it +her old customers. The knowledge did not tend to soothe her naturally +tart temper; neither did the fact that her husband took vast deal of +pleasure abroad, spent money recklessly, and left her to do all the +work. Mr. Jones's debts came out, one after the other; more than could +be paid; and one morning some men of the law walked quietly in and put +themselves in possession of the effects. Things had come to a crisis. +Mr. Jones, after battling out affairs with the bankruptcy +commissioner, started for America; his wife went off to London. +Certain money, her own past savings, she had been wise enough to have +secured to her separate special use, and that could not be touched. +With a portion of it she bought in some of the furniture, and set up +as a letter of lodgings in Gower Street. + +But that Roland Yorke had not seen the parlour at Helstonleigh (which +the reader had the satisfaction of once entering with Mr. Butterby), +he would have gone well nigh to think this the same room. The red +carpet on the floor, the small book-shelves, the mahogany sideboard +with its array of glasses, the horsehair chairs, the red cloth on the +centre table, all had been transplanted. When Roland bustled in, he +found Mrs. Jones knitting away at lambs' wool socks, as if for her +life. In the intervals of her home occupation, or when her house was +slack of lodgers, she did these for sale, and realized a very fair +profit. + +"Now then," said Roland, stirring up the fire of his own accord, and +making himself at home, as he liked to do wherever he might be, "I +want to know all about everybody." + +Mrs. Jones turned her chair towards him with a jerk; and Roland put +question after question about the old city, which he had so abruptly +quitted more than seven years before. It may be that Mrs. Jones +recognized in him a kind of fellow-sufferer. Neither of them cared to +see Helstonleigh again, unless under the auspices of a more propitious +fate than the present. Anyway, she was gracious to Roland, and gave +him information as fast as he asked for it, repeating some things he +had heard before. He persisted in calling her Mrs. Jenkins, saying it +came more natural than the other name. + +Mr. Channing was dead. His eldest son Hamish was living in London. +Arthur was Mr. Galloway's right hand; Tom was a clergyman, and just +made a minor canon of the old cathedral; Charley Mrs. Jones knew +nothing about, except that he was in India. The college school had got +a new master. Mr. Ketch was reposing in a damp green nook, side by +side with old Jenkins the bedesman. Hamish Channing's bank had come to +grief, Mrs. Jenkins did not know how. In the panic, she believed. + +"And that beautiful kinsman of mine, William Yorke, reigns at +Hazeldon, and old Galloway is flourishing in his office, with his +flaxen curls!" burst forth Roland, suddenly struck with a weighty +sense of injustice. "The bad people get the luck of it in this world, +Mrs. Jenkins; the deserving ones go begging. Hamish Channing's bank +come to grief;--bright Hamish! And look at me!--and you! I never saw +such a world as this with its miserable ups and downs." + +"Ah," said Mrs. Jones with a touch of her native tartness, "it's a +good thing there's another world to come after. We may find that a +better one." + +The prospect (probably from being regarded as rather far-off) did not +appear to afford present satisfaction to Roland. He sat pulling at his +whiskers, moodily resenting the general blindness of Fortune in regard +to merit, and then suddenly wheeled round to his own affairs. + +"I say, Mrs. J."--a compromise between the two names and serving for +both--"I want a lodging. Couldn't you let me come here?" + +She looked up briskly. "What kind of a lodging? I mean as to position +and price." + +"Oh, something comfortable," said Roland. + +Perhaps for old acquaintance' sake, perhaps because she had some +apartments vacant, Mrs. Jones appeared to regard the proposition with +no disfavour; and began to talk of her house's accommodation. + +"The rooms on the first floor are very good and well furnished," she +said. "When I was about it, Mr. Yorke, I thought I might as well have +things nice as not, one finds the return; and the drawing-room floor +naturally gets served the best. There's a piano in the front room, and +the bed in the back room is excellent." + +"They'd be just the thing for me," cried Roland, rising to walk about +in pleasurable excitement. "What's the rent?" + +"They are let for a pound a week. Mr.----" + +"That'll do I can pay it," said he eagerly. "I don't play the piano +myself; but it may be useful if I give a party. You'll cook for me?" + +"Of course we'll cook," said Mrs. Jones. "But I was about to tell you +that those rooms are let to a clergyman. If you----" + +Roland had come to an abrupt anchor at the edge of the table, and the +look of blank dismay on his face was such as to cut short Mrs. Jones's +speech. "What's the matter?" she asked. + +"Mrs. J., I couldn't give it; I was forgetting. They are to pay me a +pound a-week at Greatorex's; but I can't spend it all in lodgings, I'm +afraid. There'll be other things wanted." + +"Other things!" ejaculated Mrs. Jones. "I should think there would be +other things. Food, and drink, and firing, and light, and wear and +tear of clothes, and washing; and a hundred extras beside." + +Roland sat in perplexity. Ways and means seem to have grown dark +together. + +"Couldn't you let me one room? A room with a turn-up bedstead in it, +Mrs. Jenkins, or something of that? Couldn't you take the pound +a-week, and do for me?" + +"I don't know but I might make some such arrangement, and let you have +the front parlour," she slowly said. "We've got a Scripture reader in +the back one." + +Roland started up impulsively to look at the front parlour, intending +to take it, off hand. As they quitted the room--which was built out at +the back, on the staircase that led down to the kitchen--Roland saw a +tall, fair, good-looking young woman, who stopped and asked some +question of Mrs. Jones. Which that lady answered sharply. + +"I have no time to talk about trifles now, Alletha." + +"Who's that?" cried Roland, as they entered the parlour: a small room +with a dark paper and faded red curtains. + +"It's my sister, Mr. Yorke." + +"I say, Mrs. J., this is a stunning room," exclaimed Roland, who was +in that eager mood, of his, when all things looked couleur-de-rose. +"Can I come in today?" + +"You can tomorrow, if we agree. That sofa lets out into a bedstead at +night. You must not get into my debt, though, Mr. Yorke," she added, +in the plain, straightforward way that was habitual with her. "I +couldn't afford it, and I tell you so beforehand." + +"I'll never do that," said Roland, impulsively earnest in his +sincerity. "I'll bring you home the pound each week, and then I shan't +be tempted to change it. Look here"--taking two sovereigns from his +pocket--"that's to steer on ahead with. Does she live here?" he +added, going back without ceremony to the subject of Miss Rye. +"Alletha, do you call her? what an odd name!" + +"The name was a mistake of the parson's when she was christened. It +was to have been Allethea. I've had her with me four or five years +now. She is a dressmaker, Mr. Yorke, and works sometimes at home, and +sometimes out." + +"She'd be uncommonly good-looking if she were not such a shadow," +commented Roland with candour. + +Mrs. Jones gave her head a toss, as if the topic displeased her. +"Shadow, indeed! Yes, and she's likely to be one. Never was any pig +more obstinate than she." + +"Pigs!" cried Roland with energy, "you should see the obstinacy of +Natal pigs, Mrs. J. _I_ have. Drove 'em too." + +"It couldn't equal hers," disputed Mrs. J., with intense acrimony. +"She is wedded to the memory of a runaway villain, Mr. Yorke, that's +what she is! A good opportunity presented itself to her lately of +settling, but she'd not take it. She'd sooner fret out her life after +_him_, than look upon an honest man. The two pigs together by the +tail, and let 'em pull two ways till they drop, they'd not equal her. +And for a runaway; a man that disgraced himself!" + +"What did he do?" asked curious Roland. + +"It's not very good to repeat," said Mrs. Jones tartly. "She lived in +Birmingham, our native place, till the mother died, and then she came +to me at Helstonleigh. First thing she tells me was, that she was +engaged to be married to some young man in an office there, George +Winter: and over she goes to Birmingham the next Christmas on a visit +to her aunt, on purpose to meet him: stays there a week, and comes +home again. Well, Mr. Yorke, this grand young man, this George Winter, +about whom I had _my_ doubts, though I'd never seen him, got into +trouble before three months had gone by: he and a fellow-clerk did +something wrong with the money, and Winter decamped." + +"I wonder if he went to Port Natal?" mused Roland. "We had some queer +people over there." + +"It don't much matter where he went," returned Mrs. Jones, hotly. "He +did go, and he never came back, and he took Alletha's common sense +away with him: what with him and what with the dreadful affair at our +house of that poor Mr. Ollivera, she has never been herself since. It +both happened about the same time." + +Roland recalled what he had recently heard from Jenner regarding the +death of the barrister, and felt a little at sea. + +"What was Ollivera to her?" he asked. + +"What! why, nothing," said Mrs. Jones. "And she's no better than a +lunatic to have taken it as she did. Whether it's that, or whether +it's the pining after the other precious runaway, _I_ don't know, but +one of the two's preying upon her. There's Mr. Ollivera!" + +Roland went to the window. In the street, talking, stood a dark, small +man in the garb of a clergyman, with a grave but not unpleasant face, +and sad dark eyes. + +"Oh, that's Mr. Ollivera, is it?" quoth Roland. "He looks another +shadow." + +"And it is another case of obstinacy," rejoined Mrs. Jones. "He has +refused all along to believe that his brother killed himself; you +could as soon make him think the sun never shone. He comes to my +parlour and talks to me about it by the hour together, with his +note-case in his hand, till Alletha can't sit any longer, and goes +rushing off with her work like any mad woman." + +"Why should she rush off? What harm does it do to her?" + +"I don't know: it's one of the puzzles to be found out. His coming +here was a curious thing, Mr. Yorke. One day I was standing at the +front door, and saw a young clergyman passing. He looked at me, and +stopped; and I knew him for Henry Ollivera, though we had only met at +the time of the death. When I told him I had rooms to let, and very +nice ones, for it struck me that perhaps he might be able to recommend +them, he looked out in that thoughtful, dreamy way he has, (look at +his eyes now, Mr. Yorke!) seeing nothing, I'm certain; and then said +he'd go up and look at the rooms; and we went up. Would you believe +that he took them for himself on the spot?" + +"What a brick!" cried Roland, who was following out suggested ideas +but imperfectly. "I'll take this one." + +"Alletha gave a great cry when she heard he was coming, and said it +was Fate. I demanded what she meant by that, but she'd not open her +lips further. Talk of Natal pigs, forsooth, she's worse. He took +possession of the rooms within the week; and I say, Mr. Yorke, that, +Fate or not Fate, he never had but one object in coming--the sifting +of that past calamity. His poor mistaken mind is ever on the rack to +bring some discovery to light. It's like that search one reads of, +after the philosopher's stone." + +Roland laughed. He was not very profound himself, but the +philosopher's stone and Mrs. Jones seemed utterly at variance. + +"It does," she said. "For there's no stone to be found in the one +case, and no discovery to be made in the other, beyond what has been +made. I don't say this to the parson, Mr. Yorke; I listen to him and +humour him for the sake of his dead brother." + +"Well, I shan't bother you about dead people, Mrs. J., so you let me +the room." + +The bargain was not difficult. Every suggestion made by Mrs. Jones, he +acceded to before it had well left her lips. He had fallen into good +hands. Whatever might be Mrs. Jones's faults of manner and temper, she +was strictly just, regarding Roland's interests at least in an equal +degree with her own. + +"Do you know," said Roland, nursing his knee as the bargain concluded, +"I have never felt so much at home since I left it, as I did just now +by your fire, Mrs. J.? I'm uncommon glad I came here." + +He was genuine in what he said: indeed Roland could but be genuine +always, too much so sometimes. Mrs. J.--as he called her--brought back +so vividly the old home life of his boyhood, now gone by for ever, +that it was like being at Helstonleigh again. + +"My eldest brother, George, is dead," said Roland. "Gerald is grand +with his chambers and his club, and is married besides, but I've not +seen him. Tod is in the army: do you remember him? an awful young +scamp he was, his face all manner of colours from fighting, and his +clothes torn to that degree that Lady Augusta used to threaten to send +him to school without any. Where's your husband number two, Mrs. J.?" + +"It is to be hoped he is where he will never come away from; he went +sailing off three years ago from Liverpool," she answered sharply; +for, of all sore subjects, this of her second marriage was the worst. +"Anyway, I have made myself and my goods secure from him." + +"Perhaps _he's_ at Port Natal, driving pigs. He'll find out what they +are if he is." + +Mr. Ollivera was turning to the house. Roland opened the parlour door +when he had passed it; to look after him. + +Some one else was there. Peering out from a dark nook in the passage, +her lips slightly apart, her eyes strained after the clergyman with a +strange kind of fear in their depths, stood Alletha Rye. Mr. Ollivera +suddenly turned back, as though he had forgotten something, and she +shrank out of sight. Mrs. Jones introduced Roland: "Mr. Roland Yorke." + +Mr. Ollivera's face was thin; his dark brown eyes shone with a +flashing, restless, feverish light. Be you very sure when that +peculiar light is seen, it betokens a mind ill at rest. The eyes fixed +themselves on Roland: and perhaps there was something in the tall, +fine form, in the good-nature of the strong-featured countenance, that +recalled a memory to Mr. Ollivera. + +"Any relative of the Yorkes of Helstonleigh?" + +"I should think so," said Roland, "I am a Yorke of Helstonleigh. But +I've not been there since I went to Port Natal, seven years and more +ago. Do you know them, Mr. Ollivera?" + +"I know a little of the minor-canon, William Yorke, and----" + +"Oh! he!" curtly interrupted Roland, with a vast amount of scorn. "He +is a beauty to know, he is." + +The remark, so like a flash of boyish resentment, excited a slight +smile in Mr. Ollivera. + +"Bill Yorke showed himself a cur once in his life, and it's not me +that's going to forget it. He'd have cared for my telling him of it, +too, had I come back worth a few millions from Port Natal, and gone +about Helstonleigh in my carriage and four." + +Mr. Ollivera said some courteous words about hoping to make Roland's +better acquaintance, and departed. Roland suddenly remembered the +claims of his office, and tore away at full speed. + +Never slackening it until he reached the house of Greatorex and +Greatorex; and there he very nearly knocked down a little girl who had +just come out of the private entrance. Roland turned to apologise; but +the words died on his lips, and he stood like one suddenly struck +dumb, staring in silence. + +In the pretty young lady, one of two who were talking together in the +passage, and looked round at the commotion, Roland thought he +recognised an old friend, now the wife of his cousin William Yorke. He +bounded in and seized her hands. + +"You are Constance Channing?" + +"No," replied the young lady, with wondering eyes, "I am Annabel." + +Mr. Roland Yorke's first movement was to take the sweet face between +his hands, and kiss it tenderly. Struggling, blushing, almost weeping, +the young lady drew back against the wall. + +"How dare you?" she demanded in bitter resentment. "Are you out of +your mind, sir?" + +"Good gracious, Annabel, don't you know me? I am your old playfellow, +Roland Yorke." + +"Does that give you any right to insult me? I might have known it was +no one else," she added in the moment's anger. + +"Why, Annabel, it was only done in great joy. I had used to kiss you, +you remember: you were but a little mite then, and I was a big tease. +Oh, I am so glad to see you! I'd rather have met you than all the +world. You can't be angry with me. Shake hands and be friends." + +To remain long at variance with Roland was one of the impossibilities +of social life. He possessed himself of Annabel Channing's hand and +nearly shook it off. What with his hearty words, and what (may it be +confessed, even of Annabel) with the flattery of his praises and +general admiration, Annabel's smiles broke forth amidst her blushes. +Roland's eyes looked as if they would devour her. + +"I say, I never saw anybody so pretty in all my life. It is the nicest +face; just what Constance's used to be. I thought it was Constance, +you know. Was she not daft, though, to go and take up again with that +miserable William Yorke?" + +Standing by, having looked on with a smile of grand pity mingled with +amusement, was a lady in the most fashionable attire, the amount of +hair on her head something marvellous to look at. + +"I should have known Roland Yorke anywhere," she said, holding out her +hand. + +"Why, if I don't believe it's one of the Joliffes!" + +"Hush, Roland," said Annabel, hastening to stop his freedom, and the +tone proved that she had nearly forgiven him on her own score. "This +is Mrs. Bede Greatorex." + +"Formerly Louisa Joliffe," put in that lady. "Now do you know me?" + +"Well, I never met with such a strange thing," cried Roland. "That +makes three--four--of the old Helstonleigh people I have met today. +Hurst, Mrs. J., and now you two. I think there must be magic in it." + +"You must come and see me soon, Roland," said Mrs. Greatorex as she +went out. Miss Channing waited for the little girl, Jane Greatorex, +who had run in her wilful manner into her uncle Bede's office. Roland +offered to fetch her. + +"Thank you," said Miss Channing. "Do you know which is the office?" + +"Know! law bless you!" cried Roland. "What do you suppose I am, +Annabel? Clerk to Greatorex and Greatorex." + +Her cheeks flushed with surprise. "Clerk to Greatorex and Greatorex! I +thought you went to Port Natal to make your fortune." + +"But I did not make it. It has been nothing but knocking about; then +and since. Carrick is a trump, as he always was, but he gets floored +himself sometimes; and that's his case now. If they had not given me a +stool here (which he got for me) I'm not sure but I should have gone +into the hot-pie line." + +"The--what?" + +"The hot-pie line; crying them in the streets, you know, with a basket +and a white cloth, and a paper cap on. There's a fine opening for it +down in Poplar." + +Miss Channing burst out laughing. + +"It would be nothing to a fellow who has been over yonder," avowed +Roland, jerking his head in the direction Port Natal might be supposed +to lie. And then leaping to a widely different subject in his volatile +lightness, he said something that brought the tears to her eyes, the +drooping tremor to her lips. + +"It was so good in the old days; all of us children together; we were +no better. And Mr. Channing is gone, I hear! Oh, I am so sorry, +Annabel!" + +"Two years last February," she said in a hushed tone. "We have just +put off our mourning for him. Mamma is in the dear old house, and +Arthur and Tom live with her. Will you please look for the little +girl, Mr. Yorke?" + +"Now I vow!"--burst forth Roland in a heat. "I'll not stand that, you +know. One would think you had put on stilts. If ever you call me 'Mr. +Yorke' again, I'll go back to Port Natal." + +She laughed a little pleasant laugh of embarrassment. "But, please, I +want my pupil. I cannot go myself into the offices to look for her." + +At that moment Jane Greatorex came dancing up, and was secured. Roland +stood at the door to watch them away, exchanged a few light words with +a clerk then entering, and finally bustled into the office. + +"Am I late?" began Roland, with characteristic indifference. "I'm very +sorry, Mr. Brown. I was looking at some lodgings; and I met an old +friend or two. It all served to hinder me, but I'll soon make up for +it." + +"You have been away two hours and a half, Mr. Yorke." + +"It's more, I think," said Roland. "I assure you I did my best to get +back. You'll soon find what I can get through, Mr. Brown." + +Mr. Brown made no reply whatever. Jenner was absent, but Hurst was at +his post, writing, and the faint hum of voices in the adjoining room, +told that some client was holding conference with Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +Roland resumed his copying where he had left off, and wrote for a +quarter of an hour without speaking. Diligence unheard of! At the end +of that time he looked off for a little relaxation. + +"Hurst, where do you think I am going to lodge?" + +"How should I know?" responded Mr. Hurst. And Roland told him where in +an undertone. + +"Jenner and I were going along Tottenham Court Road, and met her," he +resumed presently, after a short interlude of writing. "She looks +twenty years older." + +"That's through her tongue," suggested Mr. Hurst. + +"In the old days down there, I'd as soon have gone to live in a +Tartar's house as in hers. But weren't her teas and toasted muffins +good! Here, in this desert of a place--and it's worse of a desert to +me than Port Natal--to get into her house will seem like getting into +home again." + +Mr. Brown, looking off his work to refer to a paper by his side, took +the opportunity to direct a glance at the opposite desk. Whether +Roland took it to himself or not, he applied sedulously for a couple +of minutes to his writing. + +"I say, Hurst, what a row there is about that dead Mr. Ollivera!" + +"Where's the row?" + +"Well, it seems to crop up everywhere. Jenner talked of it; she talked +of it; I hear that other Mr. Ollivera talks of it. You were in the +thick of it, they say." + +Hurst nodded. "My father was the surgeon fetched to him when he was +found dead, and had to give evidence at the inquest. I went to see him +buried; it _was_ a scene. They stole a march on us, though." + +"Who did?" + +"They let us all disperse, and then went and read the burial service +over the grave; Ollivera the clergyman, and three or four more. Arthur +Channing was one." + +"Arthur Channing!" + +Had any close observer been in the office, he might perchance have +noticed that while Mr. Brown's eyes still sought his work, his pen had +ceased to play. His lips were slightly parted; his ears were cocked; +the tale evidently bore for him as great an interest as it did for the +speakers--an interest he did not choose should be seen. Had they been +speaking aloud, he would have checked the conversation at once with an +intimation that it could not concern anybody: as they spoke covertly, +he listened at leisure. Mr. Hurst resumed. + +"Yes, Arthur Channing. The rumour ran that William Yorke had promised +to be present, but declined at the last moment, and Arthur Channing +voluntarily took his place out of sympathy for the feelings of the +dead man's brother." + +"Bravo, old Arthur! he's the trump he always was. That's the Reverend +Bill all over." + +"The Reverend Bill let them have his surplice. And there they stood, +and read the burial service over the poor fellow by stealth, just as +the old Scotch covenanters held their secret services in caves. +Altogether a vast deal of romance encircled the affair, and some +mystery. One Godfrey Pitman's name was mixed up in it." + +"Who was Godfrey Pitman?" + +Hurst dipped his pen slowly into the ink. "Nobody ever knew. He was +lodging in the house, and went away mysteriously the same evening. +Helstonleigh got to say in joke that there must have been two Godfrey +Pitmans. The people of the house swore through thick and thin that the +real Godfrey Pitman left at half-past four o'clock and went away by +rail at five; others saw him quit the house at dark, and depart by the +eight o'clock train. It got to a regular dispute." + +"But had Godfrey Pitman anything to do with Mr. Ollivera?" + +"Not he." + +"Then where was the good of bringing him up?" cried Roland. + +"I am only telling you of the different interests that were brought to +bear upon it. It _was_ an affair, that death was!" + +The entrance of Mr. Frank Greatorex broke up the colloquy, recalling +the clerks to their legitimate work. But the attention of one of them +had become so absorbed that it was with difficulty he could get +himself back again to passing life. + +And that one was Mr. Brown. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +GOING INTO SOCIETY. + + +The year was growing a little later; the evenings were lengthening, +and the light of the setting sun, illumining the west with a golden +radiance, threw some of its cheering brightness even on the streets +and houses of close, smoky London. + +It shone on the person of the Reverend Henry William Ollivera, as he +sat at home, taking his frugal meal, a tea-dinner. The room was a good +one, and well furnished in a plain way. The table had been drawn +towards one of the windows, open to the hum of the street; the +rosewood cabinet at the back was handsome with its sheet of +plate-glass and its white marble top; the chairs and sofa were covered +with substantial cloth, the pier-glass over the mantlepiece reflected +back bright ornaments. Mr. Ollivera was of very simple habits, partly +because he really cared little how he lived, partly because the scenes +of distress and privation he met with daily in his ministrations read +him a lesson that he was not slow to take. How could he pamper himself +up with rich food, when so many within a stone's throw were pining for +want of bread? His landlady, Mrs. Jones, gave him sound lectures on +occasion, telling him to his face that he was trying to break down. +Sometimes she prepared nice dinners in spite of him: a fowl, or some +other luxury, and Mr. Ollivera smiled and did not say it was not +enjoyed. The district of his curacy was full of poor; poverty, vice, +misery reigned, and _would_ reign, in spite of what he could do. Some +of the worst phases of London life were ever before him. The great +problem, "What shall be done with these?" arose to his mind day by +day. He had his scripture readers; he had other help; but destitution +both of body and mind reared itself aloft like a many-headed monster, +defying all solution. Sometimes Mr. Ollivera did not come in to dinner +at all, but took a mutton-chop with his tea; as he was doing now. + +Four years had elapsed since his brother's mysterious death (surely it +may be called so!) and the conviction on the clergyman's mind, that +the verdict was wholly at variance with the facts, had not abated one +iota. Nay, time had but served to strengthen it. Nothing else had +strengthened it. No discovery had been made, no circumstance, however +minute, had arisen to throw light upon it one way or the other. The +hoped-for, looked-for communication from the police-agent, Butterby, +had never come. In point of fact Mr. Butterby, in regard to this case, +had found himself wholly at sea. Godfrey Pitman did not turn up in +response to the threatened "looking after;" Miss Rye departed for +London with her sister when affairs at the Jones's came to a crash; +and, if the truth must be told, Mr. Butterby veered round to his +original opinion, that the verdict had been a correct one. Once, and +once only, that renowned officer had presented himself at the house of +Greatorex and Greatorex. Happening to be in London, he thought he +would give them a call. But he brought no news. It was but a few weeks +following the occurrence, and there might not have been time for any +to arise. One thing he had requested--to retain in his possession the +scrap of writing found on the table at the death. It might be useful +to him, he said, for of course he should still keep his eyes open: and +Mr. Greatorex readily acquiesced. Since then nothing whatever had been +heard from Mr. Butterby, or from any other quarter; but the sad facts +were rarely out of the clergyman's mind; and the positive conviction, +the _expectation_ of the light, to break in sooner or later, burnt +within him with a steady ray, sure and true as Heaven. + +Not of this, however, was Mr. Ollivera's mind filled this evening. His +thoughts were running on the disheartening scenes of the day; the +difficult men and women he had tried to deal with--some of them meek +and resigned, many hard and bad; all wanting help for their sick +bodies or worse souls. There was one case in particular that +interested him sadly. A man named Gisby, discovered shortly before, +lay in a room, dying slowly. He did not want help in kind, as so many +did; but of spiritual help, none could be in greater need. Little by +little, Mr. Ollivera got at his history. It appeared that the man had +once been servant in the house of Kene, the Queen's counsel--Judge +Kene now: he had been raised to the bench in the past year. During his +service there, a silver mug disappeared; circumstances seemed to point +to Gisby as guilty, and he was discharged, getting subsequently other +employment. + +But now, the man was not guilty--as he convinced Mr. Ollivera, and the +suspicion appeared to have worked him a great deal of ill, and made +him hard. On this day, when the clergyman sat by his bed-side, reading +and praying, he had turned a deaf ear. "Where's the use?" he roughly +cried, "Sir Thomas thinks me guilty always." It struck Mr. Ollivera +that the man had greatly respected his master, had valued his good +opinion and craved for it still; and the next morning this was +confirmed. "You'll go to him when I'm dead, sir, and tell him the +truth then, that I was not guilty? I never touched the mug, or knew +how or where it went." + +Returning home with these words ringing in his ears, Mr. Ollivera +could not get the man out of his mind. So long as the _sense of being +wronged_ lay upon Gisby, so long would he encase himself in his hard +indifference, and refuse to hear. "I must get Kene to go to see the +man," decided Mr. Ollivera. "He must hear with his own ears and see +with his own eyes that he was not guilty, and tell him so; and then +Gisby will come round. I wonder if Kene is back from circuit." + +Excessively tired with his day's work, for his frame was not of the +strongest, Mr. Ollivera did not care to go out that evening to Sir +Thomas Kene's distant residence on the chance of not finding him. And +yet, if the judge was back, there ought to be no time lost in +communicating with him, for Gisby was daily getting nearer to death. +"Bede Greatorex will be able to tell me," suddenly thought Mr. +Ollivera, when his tea had been long over and twilight was setting in. +"I'll send and ask him." + +Moving to his writing-table, he wrote a short note, reading it over +before enclosing it in an envelope. + + +"Dear Bede,--Can you tell me whether Sir Thomas Kene is in London? I +wish particularly to see him as soon as possible. It is on a little +matter connected with my parish work. + +"Truly yours + +"WILLIAM OLLIVERA." + + +It was a latent thought that induced Mr. Ollivera to add the +concluding sentence and the motive shall be told. He and Bede +Greatorex had come to an issue twice upon the subject of his so +persistently cherishing the notion that the now long-past death was +anything but a suicide; or rather, that he should pursue it. Bede +heard so much of it from him that he grew vexed, and at length vowed +he would listen to him no more. And Mr. Ollivera thought that if Bede +fancied he wanted to see Sir Thomas Kene on that subject, he might +refuse to answer him. + +Ringing the bell, he gave the note to the servant with a request +(preferred with deprecation and a plea of his own tired state, for he +was one of those who are sensitively chary of giving any extra +trouble) that it should be taken to Mr. Bede Greatorex, and an answer +waited for. + +But when the girl got downstairs, there arose some slight difficulty; +she was engaged in a necessary household occupation--ironing--and her +mistress did not care that she should quit it. Miss Rye stood by with +her things on, about to go out on some errand of her own. Ah me! these +apparently trifling chances do not happen accidentally. + +"Can't _you_ just step round to Bedford Square, with it, Alletha?" +asked Mrs. Jones. "It won't take you far out of your way." + +Miss Rye's silent answer--she seemed always silent now--was to pick up +the note and go out with it. She knew the house, for she worked +occasionally for Mrs. Bede Greatorex, and was passing to the private +entrance when she encountered Frank Greatorex, who was coming out at +the other door. He wished her good evening, and she told him her +errand, showing the note directed to Bede. + +"He is in his office still," said Frank, throwing open the door for +her. "Walk in. Mr. Brown, attend here, please." + +Miss Rye stepped into the semi-lighted room, for there was only a +shaded lamp on Mr. Brown's desk; and Frank Greatorex, closing the +door, was gone again. Mr. Brown, at work as late as his master, came +forward. + +"For Mr. Bede Greatorex," said Miss Rye, handing him the note. "I will +wait----" + +The words were broken off with a faint, sharp cry. A cry, low though +it was, of surprise, of terror, of dismay. Both their faces blanched +to whiteness, they stood gazing at each other, she with strained eyes +and drawnback lips, he with a kind of forced stillness on his +features, that nevertheless told of inward emotion. + +"Oh, my good heaven!" she breathed in her agitation. "Is it _you?_" + +Miss Rye had heard speak of Mr. Brown, the managing clerk in the +department of Mr. Bede Greatorex. Jenner had mentioned him: Roland +Yorke had commented on him and his wig. But that "Mr. Brown" should be +the man now standing before her, she had never suspected; no, not in +her wildest dreams. + +"Sit down, Miss Rye. You are faint." + +She put his arm from her, as he would have supported her to a seat, +and staggered to one of herself. He followed, and stood by her in +silence. + +"What are you called _here?_" she began--and, it may be, that in the +moment's agitation she forgot his ostensible name and really put it as +a question, not in mocking, condemnatory scorn:--"Godfrey Pitman?" + +Every instinct of terror the man possessed seemed to rise up within +him at sound of the name. He glanced round the room; at the desks; at +the walls; as if to assure himself that no ear was there. + +"Hush--sh--sh!" with a prolonged note of caution. "Never breathe that +name, here or elsewhere." + +"What if I were to? To speak it aloud to all who ought to hear it?" + +"Why then you would bring a hornet's nest about heads that you little +wot of. Their sting might end in worse than death." + +"Death for you?" + +"No: I should be the hangman." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Listen, Miss Rye. I cannot tell you what I mean: and your better plan +will be never to ask me. If----" + +"Better for whom?" she interrupted. + +"For--well, for me, for one. The fact is, that certain interests +pertaining to myself and others--_certain reminiscences of the past_," +he continued with very strong emphasis, "have become so complicated, +so interwoven as it were one with the other, that we must in all +probability stand or fall together." + +"I do not understand you." + +"I can scarcely expect that you should. But--were any proceeding on +your part, any word, whether spoken by design or accident, to lead to +that fall, you would rue it to the last hour of your life. _That_ you +can at least understand." + +The faintness was passing off, and Miss Rye rose, steadying herself +against the railings of Mr. Hurst's desk. At that moment the inner +door was unlatched, and the clerk, recalled to present duties, caught +the note from her unresisting hand. + +"For Mr. Bede Greatorex," he said aloud, glancing at the +superscription. "I will give it to him." + +It was Mr. Bede Greatorex who came forth. He took the note, and +glanced at Alletha. + +"Ah, Miss Rye! Is it you?" + +"Our maid was busy, so I brought it down," she explained. "Mr. +Ollivera is waiting for an answer." + +Bede Greatorex went back to his room, leaving the intervening door +open. She sat and waited. Mr. Brown, whose work was in a hurry, wrote +on steadily at his desk by the light of a shaded lamp. A minute or +two, and Bede Greatorex brought her a bit of paper twisted up, and +showed her out himself. + +With the errand she had come abroad to execute for herself gone clean +out of her head, Alletha Rye went back home, her brain in a whirl. The +streets she passed through were crowded with all the bustle and jostle +of London life; but, had she been traversing an African desert, she +could not have felt more entirely alone. Her life that night lay +within her: and it was one of confused tumult. + +The note found Mr. Ollivera asleep: as the twilight deepened, he had +dropped, in sheer weariness, into an unconscious slumber. Untwisting +the scrap of paper, he held it near a lighted candle and read the +contents:-- + + +"Dear Henry,--Kene is back, and is coming to us this evening; we +expect two or three friends. Louisa will be pleased if you can join +us. Faithfully yours, + +"B.G." + + +Mr. Ollivera eschewed gaiety of all kinds, parties included. Over and +over again had he been fruitlessly invited to the grand dinners and +soirées of Mrs. Bede Greatorex, until they left off asking him. "Two +or three friends," he repeated as he put down the note. "I don't mind +that, for I must see Kene." + +Dressing himself; he was on the point of setting out, when a messenger +arrived to fetch him to a sick person; so that it was half-past ten +when he reached the house of Mr. Greatorex. And then, but for his +mission to the Judge, he would have quitted it again without entering +the reception-rooms. + +Two or three friends! Lining the wide staircase, dotting the handsome +landing, crowding the numerous guest-rooms, there they were; a mob of +them. Women in the costly and fantastic toilettes of the present day; +men bowing and bending with their evening manners on. Mr. Ollivera +resented the crowd as a personal wrong. + +"'Two or three friends,' you wrote me word, Bede," he reproachfully +said, seeing his cousin in a corner near the entrance-door. "You know +I do not like these things and never go to them." + +"On my word, Henry, I did not know it was going to be this cram," +returned Bede Greatorex. "I thought we might be twenty, perhaps, all +told." + +"How can you put up with this? Is it _seemly_, Bede--in this once +staid and pattern house?" + +"Seemly?" repeated Bede Greatorex. + +"Forgive me, Bede. I was thinking of the dear old times under your +mother's rule. The happy evenings, all hospitality and cheerfulness; +the chapter read at bedtime, when the small knot of guests had +departed. _Friends_ were entertained then; but I don't know what you +call these." + +Perhaps Bede Greatorex had never, amid all his provocations, felt so +tempted to avow the truth as now--that he abhorred it with his whole +heart and soul. Henry William Ollivera could not hate and despise it +more than he. As to the good old days of sunshine and peace thus +recalled, a groan well nigh burst from him, at their recollection. It +was indeed a contrast, then and now: in more things than this. The +world bore a new aspect for Bede Greatorex, and not a happier one. + +"Is Kene here, Bede?" + +"Not yet. What is it that you want with him?" + +Mr. Ollivera gave a brief outline of the case; Bede left him in the +middle of it to welcome fresh arrivals. Something awfully fine loomed +up, in pink silk and lace, and blazing emeralds. It was Mrs. Bede +Greatorex. Her chignon was a mile high, and her gown was below her +shoulder-blades. The modest young clergyman turned away at the sight, +his cheeks flushing a dusky red. Not in this kind of society of late +years, the curiosities of fashionable attire were new to him. + +"Is Bede mad?" he inwardly said, "or has he lost all control over his +wife's actions?" + +Somebody else, not used to society, was staring on with all the eyes +of wonder he possessed. And that was Roland Yorke. Leaning against the +wall in a new suit of dress-clothes, with a huge pair of white gloves +on that would have been quite the proper thing at Port Natal, stood +Roland. Mr. Ollivera, trying to get away from everybody, ran against +him. The two were great friends now, and Roland was in the habit of +running up to Mr. Ollivera's drawing-room at will. + +"I say," began Roland, "this is rather strong, is it not?" + +"Do you mean the crowd?" + +"I mean everything. Some of the girls and women look as if they had +forgotten to put their gowns on. Why do they dress in this way?" + +"Because they fancy it's the fashion, I suppose," replied Mr. +Ollivera, drawing down the corners of his thin lips. + +"They must have taken the fashion from the Zulu Kaffirs," returned +Roland. "When one has been knocked about amidst that savage +lot--fought with 'em, too, men and women--one loses superfluous +fastidiousness, Mr. Ollivera; but I _don't_ think this is right." + +Mr. Ollivera intimated that there could not be a doubt it was all +wrong. + +"Down in Helstonleigh, where I come from, they dress themselves +decently," observed Roland, forgetting that his reminiscences of the +place dated more than seven years back, and that fashion penetrates to +all the strongholds of society, whether near or distant. "The girls +there are lovely, too. Just look if they are not." + +Mr. Ollivera, in some slight surprise, followed the direction of the +speaker's eyes, and saw a young lady sitting back in a corner; her +white evening dress, her banded hair, the soft, pure flush on her +delicate face, all as simple, and genuine, and modest as herself. + +"That's what the girls are in my native place, Mr. Ollivera." + +"Mrs. Bede Greatorex is a native of Helstonleigh, also," observed the +clergyman, dryly. And for a moment Roland was dumb. The pink robe, the +tower of monstrous hair, and the shoulder-blades were in full view +just then. + +"No, she is not," cried he, triumphantly. "The Joliffe girls were born +in barracks; they only came among us when the old colonel settled +down." + +"Who is the young lady?" + +"Miss Channing. Her brother and I are old chums. He is the grandest +fellow living; the most noble gentleman the world can show. He--why, +if I don't believe you know him!" broke off Roland, as a recollection +of something he had been told flashed across his mind. + +"I!" returned Mr. Ollivera. + +"Was Arthur Channing not at a--a certain night funeral?" asked Roland, +dropping his voice out of delicacy. "You know. When that precious +cousin of mine, Bill Yorke, lent you his surplice." + +"Yes, yes," said Mr. Ollivera, hastily; "I had forgotten the name. And +so that is Arthur Channing's sister!" + +"She is governess to that provoking little wretch, Jane Greatorex," +said polite Roland, forgetting in his turn that he was speaking of his +listener's cousin, "and she ought to be a queen. She ought, Mr. +Ollivera, and you would say so if you knew her. She looks one, does +she not? She's as like Arthur as two pins, and he's fit for the +noblest king in the world." + +The clergyman slightly smiled. He had become accustomed to his new +friend's impulsive mode of speech. + +"Yes, we are both of us down just now, dependents of the Greatorex +house--she teacher in it, I office-clerk," went on Roland. "Never +mind: luck may turn some day. I told Annabel so just now, but she sent +me away. I was talking to her too much, she said, and made people +stare. Perhaps it was so: I know her cheeks turned red every other +minute." + +"And to make them paler, you take up your position here and gaze at +her," observed Mr. Ollivera with another smile--and smiles were rare +from him. + +"Oh, law!" cried Roland. "I'm always doing something wrong. The fact +is, there's nobody else worth looking at. See there! a yellow gown and +no petticoats under it. If this is fashion I hope my mother and +sisters are not going in for it! I shall go back to her," he added, +after a moment's pause. "It's a shame she should sit there alone, with +nothing to look at but those Models, passing and repassing right +before her eyes. If Arthur were here, I believe he'd take her away, I +do." + +Roland, vegetating in that unfashionable region, Port Natal, had not +yet become accustomed to the exigencies of modern days; and he spoke +freely. Just then the throng was great in front of him, and he +remained where he was. Taller than almost any one in the room, he +could look at Annabel at will; Mr. Ollivera, about up to Roland's +shoulder, could get but occasional glimpses of her. Many a one glanced +at Roland with interest, wondering who the fine, strong young man was, +leaning against the wall there, with the big white gloves on, and the +good-natured face, unsophisticated as a boy's. + +Elbowing his way presently across the room something after the manner +he might have elbowed through a crowd on the quay at Durban, Roland +once more took up his position by Miss Channing. The old playfellows +had become new friends, and Roland contrived that they should often +meet. When Miss Channing was walking in the Square with her pupil, he +was safe to run up, and stay talking; quite oblivious to the +exigencies of the office waiting for his services. Jane Greatorex had +learned to look for him, and would walk where she was likely to see +him, in defiance of Miss Channing. In spite of Roland's early fever to +quit his native place, in spite of his prolonged rovings, he was +essentially a home-bird, and could have been content to talk of the +old days and the old people with Annabel for ever. + +"Where's Jane tonight?" he began, as he joined her. + +"In bed. She was very naughty this evening, and for once Mr. Bede +Greatorex interfered and sent her." + +"Poor child! She is awfully troublesome, though, and one gets tired of +that in the long run. If you--Halloa!" + +Roland stopped. He was gazing in surprise at someone standing near: a +man nearly his own age, tall and strong, and bearing altogether a +general resemblance to himself. But the other's face had a cynical +cast, expressive of ill-nature, and the lips were disagreeably full. +Roland recognized him for his brother, although they had not met for +more than seven years. + +"That's Gerald, if ever I saw him in my life." + +"Yes, it is Gerald," said Miss Channing, quietly. "He generally comes +to Mrs. Bede's soirées." + +"Isn't he got up!" + +Roland's expression was an apt one. Gerald Yorke was in the very pink +of male fashion. His manners were easy; entirely those of a man at +home in society. + +"He does it grand, does he not?" cried Roland, who had made one +advance towards making friends with his brother since coming to +London, and was not responded to in kind. + +Miss Channing laughed. Gerald Yorke had entered on some kind of public +career and was very prosperous, she believed, moving amidst the great +ones of the land. Roland, quite forgetting where he was, or perhaps +not caring, set up a whistle by way of attracting the attention of +Gerald, who turned amidst others at the strange sound. + +"How d'ye do, Gerald, old boy? Come and shake hands." + +The voice was loud, glad, hearty; the great hand, with its great white +glove drawn up over it, minus a button, was stretched above +intervening heads. Gerald Yorke's face grew dark with the light of +annoyance, and he hesitated before making the best of the situation, +and getting near enough to shake the offered hand. + +He would far rather have become conveniently deaf, and walked off in +an opposite direction. Alike though the brothers were in general +personal resemblance, no contrast could be greater than they presented +in other respects. Gerald, fine and fashionable, with his aristocratic +air and his slow, affected drawl, was the very type of all that is +false of that insincerity and heartlessness obtaining in what is +called society. Roland, hot, thoughtless, never weighing a word before +he spoke it, impulsive, genuine, utterly unsophisticated as to the +usages and manners that go to make up the meetings of fashionable +life, was just as single-hearted and true. + +Gerald, as Roland put it, "went in" for grandeur, and he was already +prejudiced against his brother. In a communication from Lord Carrick, +apologizing for not being able to answer satisfactorily Gerald's +appeal for a loan, that nobleman had confidentially avowed that he +could not at present assist even Roland effectually, and had got him a +place as clerk temporarily, to save him from embarking in the hot-pie +line. It may therefore be readily understood that Gerald did not +consider an intimacy with Roland likely to conduce to his own +advancement (to say nothing of respectability) and his annoyance and +surprise at seeing him now where he did were about equally great. + +The hands were shaken, and a few words of greeting passed; warm and +open on Roland's part, cool and cautious on Gerald's. A friend of +Gerald's, the Honourable Mr. Somebody, who was by his side and begged +for an introduction, was more cordial than he. + +"I have not seen him since we parted seven years ago, when I went off +to Port Natal," explained Roland with his accustomed candour. "Haven't +I had ups and downs since then, Gerald!" he continued, turning his +beaming face upon his brother. "You have heard of them I dare say, +through Carrick." + +"You did not make a fortune," drawled Gerald, wishing he could get +away. + +"A fortune! Law bless you, Ger! I was glad to work on the port with +the Kaffirs, unloading boats; and to serve in stores, and to drive +cattle and pigs; anything for bread. You can't think how strange all +this seems to me"--pointing to the waving crowd in the room, several +of whom had gathered round, attracted by this fraternal meeting. + +"Aw! Surprised to see you amidst them," minced Gerald, who could not +resist the little ill-natured hint, in his growing rage. + +"Mrs. Greatorex invited me," said Roland, his honest simplicity +detecting not the undercurrent of sarcasm. "I am in Greatorex's +office; I don't suppose you knew it, Gerald. They give me twenty +shillings a week; and Carrick goes bail for my rigging out. I got this +coat from his tailor's tonight." + +The crowd laughed, the Honourable roared, and Gerald Yorke was half +mad. + +"I'd not _acknowledge_ it, at any rate, if I were you," he said, +imprudently, his affectation lost in a gust of temper. "After all you +were born a Yorke." + +"Acknowledge what, Ger?" returned Roland. + +"The--the--the shame of taking a common clerkship at twenty shillings +a week; and all the rest of the degradation," burst forth Gerald, +setting conventionality at defiance. "My uncle, Lord Carrick, warned +me of this; my mother, Lady Augusta, spoke of it in a recent letter to +me," he added for the benefit of the ears around. + +"Why, Ger, where's the use of being put out?" retorted Roland, but +with no symptom of ill-humour in his good-natured tone. "I was down, +and had nobody to help me. Carrick couldn't; old Dick Yorke wouldn't; +Lady Augusta said she had all of you pulling at her: and so Carrick +talked to Greatorex and Greatorex, and they put me into the place. The +pound a week keeps me; in clover too; you should hear what I sometimes +was reduced to live on at Port Natal. There was an opening for a +hot-pie man down at Poplar, and the place was offered me; if I had +gone into that line you might have grumbled." + +The ladies and gentlemen shrieked with merriment: they began to think +the fine young fellow, who looked every whit as independent a man as +his fastidious brother, was chaffing them all. Gerald ground his teeth +and tried to get away. + +"You'll come and see me, old fellow?" said Roland. "I've a stunning +room, bedroom and sitting-room in one, the bedstead's let out at +night. It is at Mother Jones's; poor soft Jenkins's widow, you know, +that we used to wot of in the days gone by." + +Gerald made good his escape: and when they were quiet again. Roland +had leisure to look at Miss Channing. Her bent face shone like a +peony, the effect of vexation and suppressed laughter. + +"Why, what's the matter>" he asked. + +"You should not say such things, Roland. It was quite out of place in +a room like this." + +"What things?" + +"About yourself. It is so different, you know, from anything young men +experience here." + +"But it is all true," returned Roland, unable to see the argument. + +"Still it need not be proclaimed to an indiscriminate crowd. You might +show more tact. Gerald was fit to die of mortification. And you who +used to have so much pride!" + +Roland Yorke, honestly willing to please everybody and vex none, stood +looking ruefully. "As to pride, Annabel, if a fellow wants that +knocked out of him, he had better go over to Port Natal, and get +buffeted as I did," he concluded. "I left it all behind me there, I'm +afraid. And, of tact, I don't think I ever possessed any." + +Which was perfectly true. + +Meanwhile Mr. Ollivera, waiting in vain to see Sir Thomas Kene enter, +grew sick of the ever-changing, ever-moving panorama that jostled him, +and went downstairs to his uncle's small and comfortable room, leaving +word with the servants where he might be found if the Judge came in. +Mr. Greatorex very rarely joined these large parties. He was sitting +in quiet now, a bit of bright fire in the grate, for the evenings were +still chilly, and a reading-lamp, newspapers, and books on the table. +Slender, active, upright still, he scarcely looked his age, sixty-two: +his face was fresh yet, and not a thread of grey mingled with the +smooth brown hair. + +"Henry, is it you!" he exclaimed; for he was surprised to see his +nephew enter at that late hour. And Mr. Ollivera, as he took a chair, +apologized for interrupting him, but said he had grown so weary of the +turmoil above. + +"You don't mean to say _you_ have been making one of them!" + +"I have for once, uncle. It will serve me for ten years to come. +People say to me sometimes, 'Why don't you go into society?' Good +heavens! to think that rational beings, God's people who have souls to +be saved, can waste their precious hours in such, evening after +evening! The women for the most part are unseemly to behold; their +bodies half dressed, their faces powdered and painted, their heads +monstrosities, their attire sinfully lavish. The men affect to be +heartless, drawling coxcombs. It is a bad phase of life, this that we +have drifted into, rotten at its core; men and women alike artificial. +Do _you_ like this in your house, Uncle Greatorex?" + +"When Bede married, I resigned to him the mastership of the house, so +far as these things were concerned," replied Mr. Greatorex. + +"I know. Does Bede like it?" + +"He countenances it. For myself, I trouble them but little now. Even +my dinner I often cause to be served here. Bede's wife was civil +enough to come down this evening and press me to join them." + +"Bede looks more worried than usual--and that need not be," observed +William Ollivera. "What is it, I wonder? To me he has the air of a man +silently fretting himself into his grave." + +"You know what it is, William," said Mr. Greatorex, in a low tone, and +calling his nephew as he often did, by his second Christian name. +"Bede's wife is a great worry. But there's another." + +"What is it?" + +"Illness," breathed Mr. Greatorex. "Symptoms that we don't like have +shown themselves in him lately. However--they may pass away. The +doctors think they will." + +"I came here to meet Kene, whom I very particularly wish to see," +resumed the clergyman, after a pause. "Bede said he expected him." + +"Ay; some magnet must have drawn you, apart from _that_," pointing his +thumb at the rooms above. And Mr. Ollivera explained why he was +seeking the Judge. + +"I thought something fresh might have arisen in the old case; or at +least that you fancied it," observed Mr. Greatorex. "You must be +coming round to our way of thinking, William. Time goes on, but _that_ +stands still." + +"I shall never come round to it." + +"John has been dead four years and two months, now," pursued Mr. +Greatorex. "And it has stood still all that time." + +William Ollivera, leaned forward in his chair, and the fire and the +lamp alike played on his wasted face, on the bright flush of emotion +that rose in his thin cheeks. + +"Uncle! Uncle Greatorex! it is as fresh in my mind now as it was the +first day I went down to Helstonleigh, and saw him lying white and +cold and dead, with the ban of the coroner's verdict upon him. I +cannot shake it off: and of late I am not sure but I have tried to do +so, in the sheer weariness of prolonged disappointment. 'Tarry yet +awhile, and wait,' a voice seems saying ever to me: and I am content +to wait. I cannot rest; I find no peace. When I wake in the morning, I +say, 'This day may bring forth fruit;' when I go to rest at night, the +thought, that it has not, is the last upon me. There will be neither +rest nor peace for me until I have solved the enigma of my brother's +death; and I am always working on for it." + +"Sir Thomas Kene has come, sir," interrupted a servant at this +juncture, opening the door. + +Henry Ollivera rose; and, wishing Mr. Greatorex good night, went forth +to his interview with the Judge. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +DAY-DREAMS. + + +The house was almost within a stone's-throw of Bedford Square; one of +a good street. Its drawing-room windows were thrown open to the fine +evening twilight, and a lady sat at one of them in a musing attitude. +She was very nice looking, with a clear healthy colour on her cheeks, +and soft bright dark eyes that had a thought in them beyond her years, +which may have been six or seven-and-twenty. The features were +well-formed; the shapely mouth, its rather thin and decisive lips, and +the pretty pointed chin, spoke of innate firmness. Her hand, +displaying its wedding-ring and keeper, was raised to support lightly +her head, the slender fingers touching the smooth dark brown hair. She +was perfectly still; not a movement betrayed that she heard or saw +aught but her own thoughts; not a rustle stirred the folds of her soft +silk dress, lying around her. + +"Shall I tell him, or not?" she murmured at length. "I have never had +any concealment from him yet, nor he from me; but then I know it will +pain and worry him. He has certainly changed a little: in the old days +it seemed that anxiety could never touch him; that he would always +throw it from him with a light word. Heigho! I suppose it comes with +the cares of life." + +A moment's pause, during which she was again still as before, and then +the soliloquy was resumed. + +"I _could_ keep it from him, if needs were: the postman gave me the +letter as I was going out, and no one knows of its arrival. But +still--I don't like to begin it; and he might feel vexed afterwards: +for of course he must come to know of it sometime. Oh dear! I never +felt so irresolute before. They used to say at home I was so very +downright. I wonder which would be _right_ to do? If I were sure +he----" + +The room door was pushed open with a sudden whirl, and a little child +came flying in with outstretched arms and a shouting, joyous laugh. + +"Mamma, mamma!" + +"Nelly!" + +The arms were entwined together, the golden head with its shower of +silken curls, nestled on the mother's bosom. Oh, but she was of rare +loveliness, this child; with the delicately fair features, the great +blue eyes, the sunny hair, and ever-sunny temperament. + +"Now, Nelly! You know you have been told over and over again not to be +so boisterous. Fancy a little lady, just five years old, coming in +like that! It might have been a great rude dog." + +Another sweet, joyous laugh in answer, a host of kisses pressed by way +of peace-offering on the gentle face, bent down in reproof more mock +than real. + +"Nurse was running to catch me. She says it's bedtime." And, to +confirm the assertion, the French clock on the mantlepiece at that +moment told out eight. + +"So it is. Come and say goodnight to papa, Nelly." + +Taking the child's hand she went out into what seemed a flood of +light, after the gradually darkening room. The hall-lamp threw its +rays upwards; on the gleaming silk of her pale blue dress, on the +white fairy robes of the child, on the well-carpeted stairs. In the +front room below, the tea stood ready by the evening fire: they went +through to another room; and the mother spoke. + +"Nelly has come to wish papa goodnight." + +Seated at the table of this inner room was a gentleman writing fast by +a shaded candle. He looked up with a sunny smile of welcome, and you +saw the likeness then between the child and the father. The winning, +beautiful features; the fair, bright complexion; the laughing blue +eyes; the gay, happy temperament: all were the same. + +It was James Channing. Sunny Hamish, as he used to be called. He was +but thirty; a tall, well-proportioned, but as yet very slender man; +rising over six feet, altogether attractive, handsome to look upon. +Nelly, forgetting her lecture, flew into his arms with a shout and a +laugh, as she had into those of her mother. + +"And what may this young lady have been about that she has not come to +see me before, this evening?" he asked. + +"Nurse kept her out rather late, Hamish, for one thing, and I knew you +were busy," came the answer; not from the child, but from Mrs. +Channing. + +"Yes, I am very busy. I have not any minutes to give even to my +darling Nelly tonight," he fondly said, kissing the bright hair and +the rosy lips. "Nelly must go to bed and dream of papa instead." + +"You'll have time when the ship comes home, papa," said the child. + +"Lots of time then." + +"The ship is to be a book." + +"Ay." + +"And it will bring great luck?" + +"Yes. Please God." + +The last words were murmured in a tone suddenly hushed to reverence; +low and happy; hopeful with a great, glad, assured hope, cheering to +listen to; a trusted hope that lighted up the whole countenance of the +man with its radiance, and shone forth in beams from his blue eyes. +But he said no more; not even to his wife and his little child could +he speak of the sanguine joy that anticipation wrought within him. + +With too many kisses to be counted, with good nights spoken yet and +yet again, Nelly was released and disappeared with her mother. The +child had been trained well. There was some indulgence on the parents' +side--perhaps that is indispensable, in the case of an only child--but +there was neither trouble nor rebellion on hers. Little Nelly Channing +had been taught to obey good laws; and, to do so, came to her +naturally. + +Mrs. Channing took her upstairs and turned into her own dressing-room, +as usual. She deemed it well that the child should say her prayers in +solitude, and, always when practicable, in the same place. Nelly sat +down of her own accord by her mother, and was quite still and quiet +while a very few easy verses from the Bible were read to her; and then +she knelt down to say her simple prayers at her mother's knee. + +"God bless my darling little Nelly, and make her a good girl!" said +Mrs. Chaining, as she took her out and resigned her to the nurse. + +"Are you ready for tea, Hamish?" she asked when she went downstairs +again. + +"Quite. But, Ellen, I think I shall have to trouble you to bring it to +me tonight." + +"Are you so very busy?" + +"Ay. Look here." + +He pointed with his pen to some papers on the table. "Those are proof +sheets: and I must get this manuscript in tomorrow, or they will not +insert it in the next month's number." + +"Hamish, I hope you are not doing too much," she gravely said. "I +don't like this night-work." + +He laughed gleefully. "Too much! I only wish I had too much to do, +Ellen. Never fear, dear." + +"I wish you would teach me to correct the proofs." + +"What an idea!" + +"I shall teach myself, sir." + +"It would be waste of time, young lady. I could not let anybody go +over my proofs but myself." + +"You vain fellow! I wonder if self-conceit is indigenous to you +literary men? Are they all as vain as Hamish Channing?" + +He took up the pen-wiper and threw it at her. But somehow Ellen was +not in a mood for much jesting tonight. She put the pen-wiper--a +rosette of red cloth--on the table again, and went and stood in +silence with her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head. + +"What is it, love?" + +"Hamish, I would bring in your tea willingly; you know it; but I think +it would do you more good to leave this work, if only for five +minutes. And I have something to say to you." + +"Very well. I can't come for a quarter of an hour. You are a regular +martinet." + +Ellen Channing left him and sat down in the other room to wait; and +this will afford the opportunity for a word of explanation. Amidst the +very very many people in all classes of life, high and low, on whom a +certain recent panic had wrought its disastrous effects, was Hamish +Channing. The bank, of which he had been manager in Helstonleigh, was +drawn into the vortex by the failure of another bank, and went in its +turn. Honourable men had to do with it; they sacrificed their own +property in the emergency, and not a creditor suffered; every one was +paid in full. It could not be reorganized, and it left Hamish without +employment. His wife's father, Mr. Huntley, had been one of the +principal shareholders, and on him had fallen the greater weight of +the heavy loss. It fell, too, at a time when Mr. Huntley could not +afford to sustain it. He possessed a large property in Canada, but it +had latterly begun to yield him little or no return. Whether in +consequence of local depreciation, or of mismanagement (or perhaps +something worse) on the part of his agents there, he knew not, and he +sent his son out to see. The young man (he was three or four years +younger than Mrs. Channing, and quite inexperienced) seemed not to be +able to grapple with the business; he wrote home most confused and +perplexing accounts, of which Mr. Huntley could make nothing. At +length that gentleman resolved to go out himself; and the letter we +have heard Mrs. Channing alluding to today was from him. It was the +second news they had received, the first having merely announced his +safe arrival: and the accounts this last contained were so gloomy that +Ellen Channing would fain have kept them from her husband. + +It must be distinctly understood that the failure of the bank in +Helstonleigh was in no way connected with ill-management. Had a quorum +of the wisest business-men in the world been at its head, they could +neither have foreseen its downfall nor averted it. Therefore Hamish +Channing came out of that, as he had out of every untoward thing all +his life, untarnished in honour and in character. A small +secretaryship was offered him in London, which he accepted; and he +removed to the great city, with his wife and little daughter, his +goods and chattels, there to set up his tent. A very small income had +been settled on Ellen when she married; the larger portion of her +fortune was to accrue to her on her father's death. Whether it would +be much, or little, or _any_, under the altered state of affairs, it +was impossible now to say. + +But it was not on the secretaryship that Hamish Channing depended for +fame and fortune. A higher and dearer hope was his. That Hamish +possessed in a high degree that rarest of all God's gifts, true +genius, he had long known. Writers of talent the world has had, and +had in abundance, men and women; of real genius but few. Perhaps, +after all, the difference is not very distinguishable by the general +mass of readers. But, to those who possess it, its characteristics are +unmistakable. The divine light (is it too much to call it so?) that +lies within them shines as a very beacon, pointing on to fame; to +honour; above all, to appreciation: the knowledge that they are +different from their fellow-mortals, of a higher and nobler and rarer +order, and that the world will sometime recognize the fact and bow +down in worship, is never absent from the consciousness of the inner +heart. + +But, with the gift, James Channing also possessed its almost +invariably accompanying attribute: a refined sensitiveness of feeling. +And that is a quality not too well calculated to do battle with rude, +every-day life. Should the great hope within him ever meet with a +stern, crushing disappointment, his inability to bear the shock would +in all probability show itself in some very marked degree. No one but +himself knew or suspected the extreme sensitiveness of his every +feeling; it had been hidden hitherto under the nonchalant ease of +manner, the sunny temper which made Hamish Channing's great charm. +When the bank was broken up, and with it his home and his greater +means of living, it was not felt by him as many another man would have +felt it: for it seemed only to render more feasible the great aim of +his life--the devoting himself to literature. Years ago he had begun +to write: and the efforts were first efforts, somewhat crude, as all +first efforts, whether given to the world or not, must of necessity +be, but they bore unmistakably the stamp of genius. His appointment to +the bank and his marriage interrupted his writing; and his genius and +pen had alike lain dormant for some six years. His wife's father, Mr. +Huntley, had procured his later appointment to the London +secretaryship, and Hamish did not venture to decline it and devote +himself wholly to literature, as he would have liked to do. The pay, +though small, was sure; Ellen's income was smaller still, and they +must live; so he accepted it. His duties there occupied him from nine +to four: and all his available time beyond that, early and late, was +devoted to writing. The day's employment was regarded as but a +temporary clog, to be given up as soon as he found his income from +literature would justify it. To accomplish this desirable end, he was +doing a great deal more than was good for him and taking too little +rest. In point of fact, he had, you see, two occupations, each one of +which would have been sufficient for an industrious man. What of that? +Hamish never so much as cast a thought to it. + +Oh, with what a zest had he re-commenced the writing, laid aside for +so long! It was like returning to some glad haven of rest. Joy filled +his whole being. The past six years had been heavy with suppressed +yearning; the yearning to be about the work for which he knew God had +pm-eminently fitted him: but his duties had been onerous, his time +nearly fully taken up; and when he would have snatched some moments +from night for the dearer work, his wife and his anxious friends had +risen up in arms against it, for he was not over-strong, and some +delicacy of constitution was preached about. Besides, as Mr. Huntley +said, a writing manager might alarm the bank's patronizers. But he had +it all his own way now, and made good profit of his writings. Papers +on social questions of the day, essays, stories, were in turn written, +and taken by different periodicals. They _had_ to be written, apart +from other hopes and views, for the style in which they lived required +additional means to support it, beyond his salary and his wife's +money. It was not much style, after all, no extravagance; three +maidservants, and little company; but everybody knows how money seems +to melt in London. + +He had been at this work now for a year. And his wife was beginning to +grow anxious, for she knew he was doing too much, and told him he was +wearing himself out. If he could but resign the secretaryship! was +ever in her secret hopes and thoughts just as much as his; and she +wished her father could get his Canadian affairs well settled, so as +to allow the necessary addition to her income. Hamish laughed at this. +He was living in a glad dream of future fame and fortune: that it +would inevitably come, he felt as sure of as though it lay at hand +now, ready to be picked up. He was writing a long work; a work of +three volumes; and this was the precious gem on which all his hopes +and love and visions were centred. The periodical writing had to be +done, for its returns were needed; but every spare moment, apart from +that, was devoted to the book. A light of gladness beamed from his +eyes; a joy, sweet as the chords of some soothing melody, lay ever on +his spirit. Oh, what is there of bliss and love in the world that can +compare with this! And it is known to so few; so few: by all else it +can never be so much as imagined. Do not mistake it, you who read, for +the pleasurable anticipation of a man or woman who may from chance +causes have "taken up" the profession of literature, and look for the +good, substantial and otherwise, that it is to bring. The two are +wholly different; the one is born of heaven, the other of earth. But +that man must live, Hamish Channing amidst the rest, the thought of +_money_ being one of the returns, would be distasteful; never, as I +honestly believe, accepted as such without a blush: the dross of earth +mingling with the spiritualized, exalted, pure joy of Eden. It is well +that this same gift of genius with its dear pleasures and its +attendant after-pains--for they come--should be vouchsafed to a unit +amidst tens of thousands! + +Mrs. Channing sat waiting for him; the tea standing before her, +herself thoughtful. The room was of good size and handsomely +furnished, its chairs and curtains of rich purple cloth. Their +furniture had been a present from Mr. Huntley when they married, who +was not one to do things niggardly. As Mrs. Channing sat, facing the +inner door, the windows were behind her; the fireplace, with its +ornaments and its large chimney-glass on her left; a piano on one side +it, a white marble-topped cabinet with purple silk lining to its +glass-doors on the other; and on her right, stood the sideboard, and +other furniture. The inner room, used exclusively by Hamish for +writing, had horsehair chairs, and a bookcase running all along the +side of the wall. + +The door opened, and Hamish came in. He had a small bundle in his +hand; proof sheets done up for the post, and sent them out at once by +the maid, as he sat down to tea. Which he seemed inclined to swallow +at a gulp, and to eat his piece of bread-and-butter wholesale, ever +anxious to get back to his labour and the glowing visions of promise +connected with it. + +"Hamish, I do believe you like your writing better than you like me!" +Ellen said to him one day almost passionately. And for answer, Mr. +Hamish in his sauciness had said he was not sure but he did. + +He sat there at tea, now, talking gaily as usual. His wife interrupted +him, telling of the letter she had received, and its unfavourable +news. He listened with his sunny smile. + +"I had great mind not to tell you at all, Hamish," she confessed. +"Papa's temperament is nearly as sanguine as yours; and if he writes +in poor spirits, saying he fears it may turn out that he is a ruined +man, I know things must be very bad." + +"But why have hesitated to tell me, Ellen?" + +"To save you anxiety. Don't you see what it implies? If papa loses his +property, the fortune that would have been mine sometime will be lost +too." + +Had she been speaking of the probable loss of some mere trifle, he +could scarcely have heard it with more equanimity. It seemed to Hamish +that the future was, according to human foresight, in his own hands. + +"Never mind, Ellen, we have a resource that cannot be lost. I will +take care of you, Heaven aiding me; you shall have every needful and +substantial good in abundance." + +"Yes, that is just it. You work too much already: you would work more +then." + +Hamish laughed. "Do you know what I wish, Ellen? I wish the day were +four-and-twenty hours long instead of twelve, and that I had two sets +of brains and hands." + +"How are you getting on?" + +"Oh, so well. It is all right, my darling. And will be." + +They were interrupted by a visitor--Mr. Roland Yorke. There had been a +casual meeting once or twice, but this was the first time he had been +there. They invited him to come; but Roland had the grace to be +ashamed of a certain escapade of his in the days gone by, which +brought disgrace for the time being on Arthur Channing, and he had +rather held back from appearing. This he partially confessed. + +"It would have been so different, you know, Hamish, had I returned +with a few millions from Port Natal, and gone home to atone to Arthur +in the face and eyes of all the town, and done honour to him for what +he is, the best man living, and heaped a fortune upon him. But I have +not been able to do that. I'd rather rush off again to Port Natal and +its troubles, than I'd go within miles of Helstonleigh." + +"And so, to mend it, you thought you would keep miles away from me," +said Hamish, with his glad smile of welcome. "I think there's only one +person in the world would be more glad to see you than I, and that's +Arthur himself." + +"I know. I know what a good fellow you always were. But I hadn't the +face to come, you see. It was Annabel made me now." + +Suddenly shaking both their hands in the heartiest manner, with a grip +that brought pain to Mrs. Channing, who wore rings, Roland fell to at +the tea. Hamish, remembering his appetite of old, rang the bell for +some good things to be brought in; and Roland was speedily in the +midst of the most comfortable enjoyment, mentally and bodily. He gave +them his own confidence without the least reserve, both as to present +and past; gravely telling everything, including the nearly embraced +hot-pie scheme of commerce, which made Hamish hold his sides, and the +having met Gerald at Mrs. Bede Greatorex's party. + +"I rather expect Gerald here this evening," remarked Hamish. + +"Do you?" said Roland, his mouth full of savoury pie. "He won't be too +pleased to see me; he means to cut me, I'm nearly sure. Do you see +much of him, Hamish?" + +Hamish explained that he did. They were both in the literary line; and +Gerald had some good engagements as a reviewer. + +"Where's his wife?" asked Roland. "Yes, please, Mrs. Channing, another +cup; plenty of milk and sugar. + +"In the country; somewhere in Gloucestershire. Gerald is not too +communicative on that score." + +"Don't you think, Hamish, he must have been a great duffer to go and +marry before he knew how he could keep a wife?" + +Hamish raised his eyebrows with the good-natured indifferent manner +that Roland so well remembered in the days gone by; but answer made he +none. Where Hamish Channing could not praise, he would not blame. Even +by his immediate relatives Gerald's imprudent marriage was tacitly +ignored, and the Lady Augusta Yorke had threatened to box Roland's +ears in Ireland, when he persisted in asking about it. + +"I always knew Gerald would not go into the Church," remarked Roland. +"I wouldn't; they say Tod threatened to run off to sea if they talked +to _him_ of it: somehow we boys have a prejudice against following my +father's calling. I'll tell you a secret, Hamish: if a fellow wants to +be _made_, to have his nonsense knocked out of him, he must go to Port +Natal. Do you remember the morning you saw me decamping off for London +on my way to it?" + +"Don't I," said Hamish, his lips parting with merriment at the +remembrance. "There was commotion that day at Helstonleigh, Roland; in +Galloway's office especially." + +"And dear old Arthur buried his wrongs and went to the rescue; and +poor dying Jenkins got out of his bed to help. He was nothing but a +calf, poor fellow, a reed in Mrs. J.'s hands, but he was good as gold. +I say, _she's_ altered." + +"Is she?" + +Roland nodded. "The going to Port Natal made me, Hamish," he resumed; +and Hamish was slightly surprised at the serious tone. "I should have +been one of the idlest of the family batch but for the lesson I got +read to me there. I went out to make my fortune; instead of making it, +I had to battle with ill-fate, and ill-fate won the day. They call it +names of course; a mistaken enterprise, a miserable failure; but it +was just the best thing that could have happened for me. I was proud, +stuck-up ignoramus; I should have depended on Carrick, or anybody +else, to get my living for me; but I mean now to earn it for myself." + +When Hamish went to his work later, leaving Ellen to entertain their +guest, Roland followed him with his eyes. + +There was a change in Hamish Channing, apparent to one even as +unobservant as Roland. The face was thinner than of yore; its refined +features were paler; they looked etherealized, as it seemed to Roland. +The sweet-natured temperament was there still, but some of its once +gay lightness had given place to thought. The very frequent mocking +tone had been nearly entirely laid aside for one of loving +considerateness to all. + +"What are you looking at?" questioned Ellen, struck with Roland's +fixed gaze and unusual seriousness. + +"At him. He is so changed." + +"Older, do you mean?" + +"Law bless you, no. Of course he is older by more than seven years; +but he is very young-looking still; he does not look so old as I do, +and I am two years his junior. I used to think Hamish Channing the +handsomest fellow living, but he was nothing then to what he is now. I +hope you won't consider it's wrong of me to say it, Mrs. Channing, but +there's something in his face now that makes one think of Heaven." + +"Mr. Yorke!" + +"There! I knew what it would be. Mr. Ollivera flies out at me when I +say wrong things. Other people don't say them. It must have been that +Port Natal. I thought I was dead once, over there," added Roland, +passing on to another topic with his usual abruptness. + +Ellen smiled; she had spoken in surprise only. Roland Yorke, who had +brought his chair round to the fire, sat opposite to her, his elbow on +his knee, his head bent forward. + +"I don't mean that it makes one think he is going to Heaven--going to +die before his time; you need not be afraid, Mrs. Channing. It was not +that kind of thought at all; only that the angels and people about, up +there, must have just such faces as Hamish's; good, and pure, and +beautiful; and just the same sweet expression, and the same +loving-kindness in the tone of voice." + +Roland stopped and pulled at his dark whiskers. Mrs. Channing began to +think _he_ had also changed for the better. + +"Many a one, remembering the past, would have just turned their backs +upon me, Mrs. Channing. Instead of that, he is as glad to see me, and +makes me as cordially welcome as if I were a lord, or a prize pig sent +him at Christmas. What did I nearly die of? you ask. Well, of fever; +but I got all sorts of horrid torments. I had the eye-epidemic; it's +caused by the dust, and I thought I was going blind. Then I had what +they call Natal sores, a kind of boil; then I nearly had a sun-stroke; +the heat's something awful, you know. And I got the ticks +everlastingly." + +"Do you mean the tic-douloureux?" + +"Law bless you! A Port Natal tick is an insect. It sits on the top of +the grass waiting for you to pass by and darts into your legs; and no +earthly thing will get it off again, except tugging at it with +tweezers. They have no wings or mouth, nothing but a pair of lancets +and a kind of pipe for a body, covered with spikes. Oh, they are nice +things. When I set up that store for leeches and candles and pickled +pork, I used to go and get the leeches myself, to save buying; lots of +them grow in the rivulets round about; but I would bring home a vast +many more ticks than leeches, and that didn't pay, you know. Where's +the little thing?" + +"Nelly? She has gone to bed." + +"She is the prettiest child I ever saw." + +"She is just like her papa," said Mrs. Channing, whose cheeks were +flushing softly with pardonable love and pride at the praise of her +child. + +"So she is. When will his book be out?" + +"Ah, I don't know. He is getting on quickly, he tells me. I think he +is a ready writer." + +"I suppose most men of genius are that," remarked Roland. "He does not +talk much about it, does he?" + +"Not at all. A very little to me. These wonderful hopes and dreams +that lie down deep within us, and go to make up the concealed inner +life of our dearest feelings, cannot be spoken of to the world. I have +none," she added, slightly laughing; "I am more practical." + +"Hamish is so hopeful! It is his temperament." + +"Hopeful!" repeated Mrs. Channing; "indeed he is: like nothing I ever +saw. You have heard of day-dreams, Mr. Yorke; well, this book is his +day-dream. He works at it late and early, almost night and day. I tell +him sometimes he must be wearing himself out." + +"One never does really wear out from work, Mrs. Channing. I used to +think I was wearing out at old Galloway's; but I didn't know what work +was until I got to Natal. I learnt it then." + +"Did You sit up to work at night at Port Natal?" + +"Only when I had not got a bed to go to," answered candid Roland. +"Mine was not that kind of work, sitting up to burn the midnight oil; +it lay in knocking about." + +"That's quite different." + +"What puzzles me more than anything is, that Gerald should have turned +author," resumed Roland. "Henry Ollivera was talking about genius at +our place the other day. Why, according to what he described it to be, +Gerald Yorke must have about as much genius as a walking gander." + +Ellen laughed. "Hamish says Gerald has no real genius," she said. "But +he has a good deal of talent. He is what may be called a dashing +writer." + +"Well, I don't know," disputed Roland, who was hard of belief in these +alleged qualities of his brother. "I remember in the old days at home, +when Gerald was at the college-school, he couldn't be got to write a +letter. If Lady Augusta wanted him to write a letter to Carrick, or to +George out in India, she would have to din at him for six months. He +hated it like poison." + +"That may have been idleness." + +"Oh, we all went in for that," acknowledged Roland. "I should have +been a very lazy beggar to the end of time but for the emigration to +Port Natal." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +COMMOTION IN THE OFFICE OF GREATOREX AND GREATOREX. + + +The summer sun, scorching the walls of houses and the street pavements +with its heat and its glare, threw itself in great might into the +offices of Greatorex and Greatorex. Josiah Hurst and Roland Yorke were +at their desk, writing side by side. Jenner was at his, similarly +occupied; Mr. Brown was holding a conversation in an undertone with +some stranger, who had entered with him as he came in from an errand: +a man of respectable, staid appearance. Something in the cut of his +clothes spoke of the provinces; and Roland Yorke, who never failed to +look after other people's affairs, however pressing his own might be, +decided that the stranger was a countryman, come up to see the sights +of London. + +"Which I can't, except from the outside," grumbled Roland to himself. +"It's an awful sell to have to go about with empty pockets. I wonder +who the fellow is?--he has been whispering there twenty minutes if +he's been one. He looks as if he had plenty in _his_." + +Mr. Bede Greatorex came in and took his place at his desk. The +head-clerk drew his head away from close proximity with his friend's, +and commenced work; a hint to the stranger that their gossip must be +at an end. + +The latter asked for a pen and ink, wrote a few words on a leaf he +tore from his pocketbook, folded it in two, and gave it to Mr. Brown. + +"That is my address in town," he said. "Let me see you tonight. I +leave tomorrow at midday." + +"Good," replied Mr. Brown, glancing at the writing on the paper. + +The stranger went out, lifting his hat to the room generally, and Mr. +Brown put the paper away in his pocket. + +"Who was that?" asked Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +"A gentleman I used to know, sir, a farmer," was the reply. "I met him +outside just now, and he came in with me. We got talking of old +times." + +"Oh, I thought it was someone on business for the office" said Mr. +Bede Greatorex, half in apology for inquiring. His face looked worn as +usual, his eyes bright and restless. Some of the family could remember +that when the late Mrs. Greatorex had first shown symptoms of the +malady that killed _her_, her eyes had been unnaturally bright. + +The work went on. The clocks drew near to twelve, and the sun in the +heavens grew fiercer. Roland began to look white and flustered. What +with the work and what with the heat, he thought he might as well be +roughing it at Port Natal. He was doing pretty well on the whole--for +him--and did not get lectures above four times a week. To help liking +Roland was impossible; with his frank manners, his free good-nature, +his unsophisticated mind, and his candid revelations in regard to +himself, that would now and again plunge the office into private +convulsions. It was also within the range of possibility that his good +connections, and the fact of his being free of the house, running up +at will to pay unexpected visits to Mrs. Greatorex, had their due +weight in Mr. Brown's mind; for breaches of office etiquette were +tolerated in Roland that certainly would not have been in any other +clerk, whether he was a gentleman or not. Roland had chosen to +constitute himself a kind of enfant de la maison; he and his brothers +and sisters had been intimate with the Joliffe girls; he could +remember once having nearly got up a fight with Louisa, now Mrs. Bede +Greatorex; and, to make Roland understand that in running upstairs +when he chose, darting in upon Mrs. Greatorex as she sat in her +boudoir or drawing-room, darting in upon Miss Channing as she gave +lessons to Jane Greatorex, he was intruding where he ought not, would +have been a hopeless task. Once or twice Mr. Bede Greatorex had +voluntarily invited him up to luncheon or dinner; and so Roland made +himself free of the house, and in a degree swayed the office. + +They were very busy today. The work which he and Hurst and Jenner had +in hand was being waited for, so that Roland had to stick to it, in +spite of the relaxing heat, and fully decided he could not be worse +off at Port Natal. The scratching of the pens was going on pretty +equally, when Frank Greatorex came in. + +"I want a cheque from you, Bede." + +"Where's Mr. Greatorex?" returned Bede in answer; for it was to him +such applications were made in general. + +"Gone out." + +Bede put aside the deed he had been sedulously examining, went into +his private room, and came back with his chequebook. + +"How much?" he asked of his brother, as he sat down. + +"Forty-four pounds. Make it out to Sir Richard Yorke." + +With a simultaneous movement, as it seemed, two of those present +raised their heads to look at Frank Greatorex: Roland Yorke and Mr. +Brown. The former was no doubt attracted by the sound of his kinsman's +name; what aroused Mr. Brown's attention did not appear, but he stared +for a moment in a kind of amazement. + +"Upon consideration, I don't think I'll take the cheque with me now; I +will call for it later in the day, when I've been into the city," +spoke a voice at the door; and Sir Richard Yorke appeared. Bede, who +was just then signing the cheque, "Greatorex and Greatorex," finished +the signature, and came forward to shake hands. + +"How d'ye do, sir," spoke up Roland. + +Sir Richard's little eyes peered out over his fat face, and he +condescended to recognise his nephew by a nod. Bede Greatorex spoke a +few words to the baronet, touching the matter in hand, and turned back +to his desk, leaving Frank to escort the old gentleman out. Bede, +about to cross the cheque, hesitated. + +"Did Mr. Frank say a crossed cheque?" he asked, looking up. + +"No, sir; he said simply a cheque," said Jenner, finding nobody else +answered. + +"Yes," broke out Roland, "it's fine to be that branch of the family. +Getting their cheques for forty-four pounds! I wish I could get one +for forty-four shillings." + +"Have the goodness to attend to your own business, Mr. Yorke." + +Bede Greatorex left the cheque uncrossed. In a few minutes, after +putting things to rights on his desk, he gathered up his papers, +including the cheque and chequebook, and went into his room. Putting +the things altogether in his desk there,--for he had an engagement at +twelve and the hour was within a minute or two of striking,--he locked +it and went out by the other door, not coming into the front room +again. + +Now it happened that Bede Greatorex, who had expected to be absent +half an hour at the longest, was unavoidably detained, so that when +Sir Richard Yorke returned for his cheque it could not be given to +him. Mr. Greatorex, however, was at home then, and drew out another. +And the day went on. + +"You must cancel that cheque, Bede," Mr. Greatorex casually observed +to his son that same evening, after office-hours. "It was very +unbusiness-like to leave it locked up, when you were not sure of +coming back in time to give it to Sir Richard." + +"But I thought I was sure. It does not matter." + +"If you will bring me those title-deeds of Cardwell's, I'll go over +them myself quietly, and see what I can make out," said Mr. Greatorex. + +Bede crossed the passage to his private room, and unlocked his desk. +The deeds Mr. Greatorex asked for were the same that he had been +examining in the front office in the morning. + +Some flaw had been discovered in them, or was suspected, and it was +likely to give the office some trouble, which would fall on Bede's +head. There they lay inside the desk, just as Bede had placed them in +the morning, with the paper-weight upon them; detained at Westminster +until a late hour, he had not been to his desk since. Reminded by his +father to destroy the cheque--useless now--Bede thought he would do +it at once. + +But he could not find it. Other papers, besides the title-deeds, +cheque, and chequebook, he had placed within, and he went carefully +over them all, one by one. Nothing was missing, nothing had apparently +been touched, but the cheque certainly was not there. He searched his +desk in the front office, quite for form's sake, for he knew that he +had carried the cheque with him to his private room. + +"One would think you had been drawing out the deeds," remarked Mr. +Greatorex when he returned. + +"I can't find that cheque," answered Bede. + +"Not find the cheque!" repeated Mr. Greatorex. "What do you mean, +Bede?" + +Bede gave a short history of the affair. He had been in a hurry: and, +instead of staying to put the cheque and chequebook into his cash-box, +had left them loose in his table-desk with the title-deeds and sundry +other papers. + +"But you _locked_ your desk?" cried Mr. Greatorex. + +"Assuredly. I have only unlocked it now. The cheque would be as safe +there as in the cash-box." + +"You could not have put it in, Bede; it must be somewhere about." + +"I am just as certain that I put it in, as I am that it is not there +now." + +Mr. Greatorex did not believe it. Bede had been for some time showing +himself less the keen, exact man of business be used to be. Trifling +mistakes, inaccuracies, negligences, would come to light now and +again; vexing Mr. Greatorex beyond measure. + +"I don't know what to make of you of late, Bede," he said after a +pause. "You know the complaints we have been obliged to hear. These +very title-deeds"--putting his hand on those just brought in--"it was +you who examined and passed them. One negligence or another comes +cropping up continually, and they may all be traced to you. Is your +state of health the cause?" + +"I suppose so," replied Bede, who felt conscious the reproach was +merited. + +"You had better take some rest for a time. If----." + +"No," came the hasty interruption, as though the proposal were +unpalatable. "Work is better for me than idleness. Put me out of +harness, and I should knock up." + +"Bede," said Mr. Greatorex, in a tone of considerate kindness, but +with some hesitation, "it appears to me that you get more of a changed +man day by day. You have not been the same since your marriage. I fear +the cause, or a great portion of it, lies in _her_; I fear she gives +you trouble. As you know, I have never spoken to you before of this; I +have abstained from doing so." + +A flush, that had shown itself in the clear olive face when Mr. +Greatorex began to speak, faded to whiteness; the hand, that +accidentally touched his father's, felt fevered in all its veins. + +"At least, my wife is not the cause of my illness," he answered in a +low tone. + +"I don't know that, Bede. That a great worry lies on your heart +continually, that a kind of restless, nervous anxiety never leaves you +by night or by day, is sufficiently plain to me; I know that it can +only arise from matters connected with your wife: and I also know that +this, and this alone, tells upon your bodily health. Your wife's +extravagance is bringing you care: ruin will surely supervene if you +do not check it." + +Bede Greatorex opened his lips to speak, but seemed to think better of +it, and closed them again. His brow was knitted in two upright lines. + +"Unless you can do so, Bede, I shall be compelled to make an +alteration in our arrangements. In justice to myself and to my other +children, your name must be withdrawn from the firm. Not yourself and +your profits: only the name, as a matter of safety." + +Bede Greatorex bit his lips. His father's heart ached for him. For a +long while Mr. Greatorex had seen that his son's unhappy state of mind +(and that it was unhappy no keen observer, much with him, could +mistake) arose through his wife. And he thought Bede a fool for +putting up with her. + +"You need not be afraid," said Bede. "I will take care the firm's +interests are not affected." + +"How can you take care?" retorted Mr. Greatorex, in rather a stern +tone. "When debts are being made daily in the most reckless manner: +debts that you know nothing of, until the bills come trooping in and +you are called upon to pay, can you answer for what it will go on to? +Can I? Many a richer man than either of us, Bede, has been brought to +the Bankruptcy Court through less than this. Ay, and I will tell you +what else, Bede--it has brought husbands to the grave. When people +remark to me, 'Your son Bede looks ill,' I quietly answer 'Do you +think so?' when all the while I am secretly wondering that you can +look even as well as you do." + +"Who remarks on it?" asked Bede. + +"Who! Many people. Only the other night, when Henry Ollivera was here, +he spoke of it." + +"Let Henry Ollivera concern himself with his own affairs," was the +fierce answer. "Does he want to be a----" + +Bede's voice dropped to an inaudible whisper. But the concluding words +had sounded like--"curse amongst us." + +"Bede! Did you say _curse?_" + +"I said _king_," answered Bede. His nostrils were working, his lips +were quivering, his chest was heaving; all with a passion he was +trying to suppress. Mr. Greatorex looked at him, and waited. He had +seen Bede in these intemperate fits of anger before: sometimes for no +apparent cause. + +"We will go book to the starting-point, this cheque, Bede," he quietly +said. "You must have overlooked it. Go and search your desk again." + +Bede was leaving the room when he met a servant coming to it with a +message. Mr. Yorke had called, and wished to see Mr. Greatorex for a +couple of minutes: his business was important. + +The notion of Roland Yorke and important business being in connexion, +brought a smile to the face of Mr. Greatorex. He told the servant to +send him in. + +But instead of Roland, it was the son of Sir Richard Yorke who +advanced. A very fashionable gentleman in evening dress, small and +slight, with white hands, a lisp, and a silky moustache. He had come +about the cheque. + +Sir Richard, fatigued with his visit to the city, had gone straight +home to Portland Place, after receiving the cheque from Mr. Greatorex, +and sent his son to the bankers' to get it cashed: a branch office of +the London and Westminster. The clerk, before he cashed it, looked at +it rather attentively, and then went away for a minute. + +"We have cashed one cheque before today, sir, precisely similar to +this," he said on his return. "Would Sir Richard be likely to have two +cheques from Greatorex and Greatorex in one day, each drawn for the +same amount--forty-four pounds?" + +"Greatorex and Greatorex are my father's men of business: he went to +get some money for them today, I know; I suppose he chose to receive +it in two cheques instead of one," replied Mr. Yorke haughtily, for he +deemed the question an impertinence. "Sir Richard may have wished to +pay the half of it away." + +The clerk counted out the money and said no more. The cheques were +undoubtedly genuine, the first made out in the well-known hand of Bede +Greatorex, the last in that of his father, and the clerk supposed it +was all right. Mr. Yorke sent the money up to Sir Richard when he got +home, and went out again. At dinner-time, he mentioned what the clerk +had said--"Insolent fellah!" and the old baronet, who knew of the fact +of two cheques having been drawn, took alarm. + +"He'd not let me wait an instant; sent me off here before I'd well +tasted my soup," grumbled Mr. Yorke. "One of you had better come and +see him if the cheque _has_ been lost and cashed; or he'll ask me five +hundred questions which I can't answer, and fret himself into a fit. +He has had one fit, you know. As to the cheque, it must have got into +the hands of some clever thief, who made haste to reap the benefit of +it." + +"And your desk must have been picked, Bede, if you are sure you put it +in," observed Mr. Greatorex. + +"I'm sure of that," answered Bede. "But I don't see how the desk can +have been picked. Not a thing in it was displaced, and the lock is +uninjured." + +Bede had a frightful headache--which was the cause of his looking +somewhat worse than usual that evening, so Mr. Greatorex went to Sir +Richard Yorke's. And in coming home he passed round by Scotland Yard. + +On the following morning, sitting in his room, he held a conference +with his two sons, whom he had not seen on his return the previous +night. + +"They think at Scotland Yard it must inevitably have been one of the +clerks in your room, Bede," said Mr. Greatorex. + +"One would think it, but that it seems so very unlikely," answered +Bede. "Brown and Jenner have been with us quite long enough for their +honesty to be proved; and the other two are gentlemen." + +"Their theory is this; that someone, possessing easy access to your +private room, opened the desk with a false key." + +"For the matter of that, the clerks on our side the house could obtain +nearly if not quite as easy access to Bede's room through its other +door," observed Frank Greatorex. + +"Yes. But you forget, Frank, that none of them on our side the house +knew of the cheque having been drawn out and left there. Jelf will be +in by-and-by." + +The morning's letters, recently delivered, lay before Mr. Greatorex in +a stack, and he began to look at them one by one before opening; his +common custom. He came to one addressed to Bede, marked "Private" on +both sides, and tossed it to his son! + +Bede opened it. There was an inner envelope, sealed, and, addressed +and marked just like the outer one, which Bede opened in turn. Frank +Greatorex, standing near his brother, was enabled to see that but a +few lines formed its contents. Almost in a moment, before Bede could +have read the whole, he crushed the letter together and thrust it into +his pocket. Frank laughed. + +"Your correspondent takes his precautions, Bede. Was he afraid that +Mrs. Bede----" + +The words were but meant in jest, but Frank did not finish them. Bede +turned from the room with a kind of staggering movement, his face +blanched, his whole countenance livid with some awful terror. Frank +simply stared after him, unable to say another word. + +"What was that?" cried Mr. Greatorex, looking up at the abrupt +silence. + +"I don't know," said Frank. "Bede seems moonstruck with that letter he +has had. It must contain tidings of some bother or other." + +"Then rely upon it, it is connected with his wife," severely spoke Mr. +Greatorex. + +The news relating to the cheque fell upon the office like a clap of +thunder. Every clerk in it felt uncomfortable especially those +attached to Mr. Bede's department. The clerk at the bank, who had +cashed the cheque, was questioned. It had been presented at the bank +early in the afternoon, about half-past one o'clock he said, or +between that and two. He had not taken notice of the presenter, but +seemed to remember that he was a tall dark man, with black whiskers. +Had taken it and cashed it quite as a matter of course; making no +delay or query; it was a common thing for strangers, that is strangers +to the bank, to present the cheques of Greatorex and Greatorex. No; he +had not taken the number of the notes, for the best of all possible +reasons--that he had paid it in gold, as requested. This clerk +happened also to be the one to whom Sir Richard Yorke's son had +presented the second cheque; he spoke to that gentleman of the fact of +having cashed one an hour or two before, exactly similar; but Mr. +Yorke seemed to intimate that it was all right; in short appeared +offended at the subject being named to him. + +At present that comprised all the information they possessed. + +It was Mr. Bede Greatorex who, made the communication to the clerks in +his room. He was sitting at his desk in the front office when they +arrived,--an unusual circumstance; and when all were assembled and had +settled to their several occupations, then he entered upon it. The +cheque he had drawn out, as they might remember, on the previous +morning for Sir Richard Yorke, and which he had locked up subsequently +in his table-desk in the other room, had been abstracted from it, and +cashed at the bank. He spoke in a quiet, friendly manner, just in the +same tone he might have related it to a friend, not appearing to cast +the least thought of possible suspicion upon any one of them. +Nevertheless, no detective living could have watched their several +demeanours, as they heard it, more keenly than did Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +The clerks seemed thunderstruck. Three of them gazed at him, unable +for the moment to shape any reply; the other burst out at once. + +"The cheque gone! Stolen out of the desk, and cashed al the bank! My +goodness! Who took it, sir?" + +The words came from nobody but Roland, you may be sure. Mr. Bede +Greatorex went on to give a few explanatory details; and Roland's next +movement was to rush into the adjoining room without asking +permission, and give a few tugs to the lid of the table-desk. Back he +clattered in a commotion. + +And here let it be remarked, en passant, that it is somewhat annoying +to have to apply so frequently the word "clatter" to Roland's +progress, imparting no doubt a good deal of unnecessary sameness. But +there is really no other graphic expression that can be found to +describe it. His steps were quick, and the soles of his boots made +noise enough for ten. + +"I say, Mr. Bede Greatorex," he exclaimed, "it is no light hand +that could open that desk without a key. I've had experience in +lifting weights over at Port Natal when helping to load the ships +with coal----" + +"Kindly oblige me by making less noise, Mr. Yorke," came the +interrupting reproof. + +Which Roland seemed not to heed in the least. He tilted himself on to +a high stool in the middle of the room, his legs dangling, just as +though he had been at a free-and-easy meeting; and there he sat, +staring in consternation. + +"Will the bank know the fellow again that cashed it?" + +"My opinion is that the desk was opened with a key in the ordinary +way," observed Mr. Bede Greatorex, referring to a previous remark of +Roland's, but passing over his present question. + +"Perhaps you left your keys about?" suggested Roland. "I did not leave +them about, Mr. Yorke. I had them with me." + +"Well, this is a go! _I_ say!" he resumed, with quite a burst of +excitement, his eyes beaming, his face glowing, "who'll be at the loss +of the money? Old Dick Yorke?" + +"Ah, that is a nice question," said Bede Greatorex. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," interposed Mr. Brown, who had been very +thoughtful. "Don't you think you must be mistaken in supposing you put +the cheque in the desk? I could understand it all so easily if----" + +"I know I put it in my desk, and left it there locked up," said Mr. +Bede Greatorex, stopping the words. "What were you about to say?" + +"If you had carried the cheque out inadvertently, and dropped it in +the street," concluded Mr. Brown, "it would have been quite easy to +understand then. Some unprincipled man might have picked it up, and +made off at once to the bank with it, hazarding the risk." + +"But I did nothing of the sort," said Bede: and Mr. Brown shook his +head, as if he were hard of conviction. + +"Of course there's not much difference in the degree of guilt, but +many a man who would not for the world touch a locked desk might +appropriate a picked-up cheque, sir." + +"I tell you, the cheque was taken from my desk," reiterated Mr. Bede +Greatorex, slightly irritated at the persistency. + +"Well, sir, then all I can say is, that it is an exceedingly +disagreeable thing for every one of us," said the head-clerk. + +"I do not wish to imply that it is," said Bede Greatorex. "Mr. Yorke, +allow me to suggest that sitting on that stool will not do your work." + +"I hope old Dick will be the one to lose it!" cried Roland, with +fervour, as he quitted the stool for his place by Mr. Hurst. +"Forty-four pounds! it's stunning. He's the meanest old chap alive, +Mr. Greatorex. I'd almost have taken it myself from him." + +"Did you take it?" questioned Hurst in a whisper. "What's that?" +retorted Roland. + +He faced Hurst as he spoke, waiting for a reply. All in a moment the +proud countenance and bearing changed. The face fell, the clear eyes +looked away, the brow became suffused with crimson. Hurst saw the +signs, and felt sorry for what he had said; had said in +thoughtlessness rather than in any real meaning. For he knew that it +had recalled to Roland Yorke a terrible escapade of his earlier life. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +TAKING THE PLACE OF JELF. + + +"It will stick in my gizzard for ever. I can see that. An awful clog, +it is, when a fellow has dropped into mischief once in his life, and +repented and atoned for it, that it must be cast in his teeth always; +cropping up at any hour, like a dead donkey in the Thames; I might as +well have stayed at Port Natal!" + +Such was the inward soliloquy of Mr. Roland Yorke as he bent over his +writing after that overwhelming question of Hurst's, "Did you take +it?" Hurst, really grieved at having hurt his feelings, strove to +smooth away what he had said. + +"I beg your pardon, old fellow," he whispered. "On my honour I spoke +without thought." + +"I dare say you did!" retorted Roland. + +"I meant no harm, Roland; I did not indeed. Nothing connected with the +past occurred to me." + +"You know it _did_," was the answer, and Roland turned his grieved +face full on Hurst. "You know you wanted to bring up that miserable +time when I stole the twenty-pound note from old Galloway, and let the +blame of it fall on Arthur Channing. Because I took that, you think I +have taken this!" + +"Hush! You'll have them hear you, Yorke." + +"That's what you want. Why don't you go and tell them?" demanded +Roland, who was working into a passion. "Proclaim it aloud. Ring the +bell, as the town-crier does at home on a market-day. Call Greatorex +and Brown and Jenner up from their desks. Where's the good of taunting +me in private?" + +Hurst kept his head down and wrote on in silence, hoping to allay the +storm he had inadvertently provoked. In spite of his protestations, he +_had_ spoken in reference to that past transaction, and the tone +showed the truth to Roland; but still he had spoken thoughtlessly. +Roland, as he believed, was no more guilty of this present loss than +he himself was; and he felt inclined to clip his tongue out for its +haste. + +Pushing his hair from his hot face, biting his lips, drawing deep +breaths in his anger and emotion, stood Roland. Presently the pen was +dashed down on the parchment before him, blotting it and defacing it +for use, but of course that went for nothing, and Roland stalked to +the desk of Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +"I wish to say, sir, that I did not steal the cheque." + +The words took Mr. Bede Greatorex by surprise. But he had by this time +become pretty well acquainted with Roland and his impulsive ways; he +liked him in spite of his faults as a clerk; otherwise he would never +have put up with them. A pleasant smile crossed his lips as he +answered; answered in jest. + +"You know the old French proverb, I dare say, Mr. Yorke: 'Qui s'excuse +s'accuse'?" + +Roland made nothing of French at the best of times: at such as these, +every pulse within him agitated to pain, it was about as intelligible +as Hebrew. But, had he understood every word of the joking +implication, he could not have responded with more passionate +earnestness. + +"I did not touch the cheque, sir; I swear it. I never saw it after you +took it from this room, or knew where you put it, or anything. It +never once came into my thoughts." + +"But why do you trouble yourself to say this?" asked Mr. Bede +Greatorex, speaking seriously when he noticed the anxious tone, the +emotion accompanying the denial. "No one thought of supposing you had +taken it." + +"Hurst did, sir. He accused me." + +Hurst, in his vexation, pushed his work from him in a heap. Of all +living mortals, surely Roland was the simplest! he had no more tact +than a child. Mr. Bede Greatorex looked from one to the other. + +"I did nothing of the kind," said Hurst, speaking quietly. "The fact +is, Roland Yorke can't take a joke. When he made that remark about his +uncle, Sir Richard, I said to him, 'Did you take the cheque?' speaking +in jest of course; and he caught up the question as serious." + +"There, go to your place, Mr. Yorke," said Bede. + +"I'd not do such a thing as touch a cheque for the world; or any other +money that was not mine: no, not though it did belong to old Dick +Yorke," earnestly reiterated Roland, keeping his ground. + +"Of course you would not. Don't be foolish, Mr. Yorke." + +"You believe me, I hope, sir." + +"Certainly. Do go to your desk. I am busy." + +Roland went back to it now, his face brighter. And Bede Greatorex +thought with a smile how like a boy he was, in spite of his +eight-and-twenty years, and his travels in Port Natal. These +single-minded natures never grow old, or wise in the world's ways. + +Another minute, and a stranger had entered the office. And yet, not +quite a stranger; for Bede Greatorex had seen him some few years +before, and Hurst and Roland Yorke knew him at once. It was Mr. +Butterby; more wiry than he used to be, more observant about the keen +eyes. He had come in reference to the loss of the cheque, and saluted +Mr. Bede Greatorex who looked surprised and not best pleased to see +him. Jelf, the officer expected, was a man in whom Bede had +confidence; of this one's skill he knew nothing. + +"It was Sergeant Jelf whom we desired to see," said Bede, speaking +with curt sharpness. + +"It was," amicably replied Mr. Butterby. "Jelf got a telegram this +morning, and had to go off unexpected. I'm taking his place for a +bit." + +"Have you changed your abode from Helstonleigh to London?" + +"Only tempory. My headquarters is always at Helstonleigh. And now +about this matter, Mr. Bede Greatorex?" + +"I think we need not trouble you. It can wait until Sergeant Jelf +returns." + +"It might have to wait some time then," was Mr. Butterby's answer. +"Jelf is off to Rooshia first; St. Petersburgh; and it's hard to say +how long he'll stay there or where he may have to go to next. It's all +right, sir; I've been for this ten minutes with Mr. Greatorex, have +learnt the particulars of the case, and got his instructions." + +Bede Greatorex bit his lip. This man, associated in his mind with that +past trouble--the death of John Ollivera, who had been so dear to him, +who was so bitterly regretted still--was rather distasteful to Bede +than otherwise, and for certain other reasons he would have preferred +Jelf. There seemed however no help for it, as his father had given the +man his instructions. + +Mr. Butterby turned his attention on the clerks. As a preliminary step +to proceedings, he peered at them one by one under his eyebrows, while +apparently studying the maps on the walls. Hurst favoured him with a +civil nod. + +"How d'ye do, Butterby?" said Roland Yorke. "You don't get much +fatter, Butterby." + +Mr. Butterby's answer to this was to stare at Roland for a full +minute; as if he could not believe his own eyes at seeing him there. + +"That looks like Mr. Roland Yorke!" + +"And it is him," said Roland. "He is a clerk here. Now then, +Butterby!" + +"I beg to state that I have full confidence in all my clerks," +interposed Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +"Just so," acquiesced the detective. "Mr. Greatorex senior thinks the +same. But it is requisite that I should put a few questions to them, +for all that. I can't see my way clear until I shall have ascertained +the movements of every individual clerk this house employs, from the +time the cheque was put into your desk yesterday, sir. And I mean to +do it," he concluded with equable composure. + +He was proceeding to examine the clerks, holding a worn note-book in +his hand to pencil down any answer that might strike him, when Bede +Greatorex again interposed, conscious that this might be looked upon +by some of them as an unpardonable indignity. + +"I cannot think this necessary, Mr. Butterby. We place every +confidence in our clerks; I repeat it emphatically. Mr. Brown and Mr. +Jenner have been with me for some years now; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Yorke +are gentlemen." + +"I know who they two are; knew them long before you did, sir; and +their fathers too. Dr. Yorke, the late prebendary, put some business +into my hands once. But now, just leave this matter with me, Mr. Bede +Greatorex. Your father has done me the honour to leave it in my hands; +and, excuse me for saying it, so must you. All these four, now present +to hear you mention their names with respect, understand just as well +that what I do is an ordinary matter of form the law's officers +require to be gone through, as if I paid 'em the compliment to say +so." + +"Oh, very well," said Bede, acquiescing more cheerfully. "Step in to +my private room with me for a moment first, Mr. Butterby." + +He held the door open as he spoke; but, before the officer could turn +to it, Mr. Greatorex came in. Bede shut the door again, and nodded to +Mr. Butterby as much as to say, "Never mind now." + +And so the questioning of the clerks began. Mr. Greatorex stayed for a +short while to listen to it, and talked to them all in a friendly +manner, as if to show that the procedure was not instituted in +consequence of any particular suspicion, rather as an investigation +in which the house, masters and clerks, were alike interested. The +head-clerk went on with his work during the investigation as calmly as +if Mr. Butterby had been a simple client; the questions put to him, as +to his own movements on the previous day, he answered quietly, calmly, +and satisfactorily. Roland never wrote a single line during the whole +time; he did nothing but stare; and made comments with his usual +freedom. When his turn came to receive the officer's polite attention, +he exploded a little and gave very insolent retorts, out of what Mr. +Butterby saw was sheer contrariness. + +The inquiry narrowed itself to this side of the house, the rest of the +clerks being able to prove, individually, that they had not been near +Mr. Bede's room during the suspicious hours of the previous day. +Whereas it appeared, after some considerable sifting, that each one of +these four could have entered it at will, and unseen. What with the +intervening dinner-hour, and sundry outdoor commissions, every one of +them had been left alone in the office separately for a greater or +less period of time. It also came out that, with the exception of +Jenner, each had been away from the office quite long enough to go to +the bank with the cheque, or to send it and secure the money. Roland +Yorke, taking French leave, had stayed a good hour and a quarter at +his dinner, having departed for it at a quarter past one. Mr. Brown +had been out on business for the house from one till half-past two; +and Mr. Hurst, who went to the stamp office, was away nearly as long. +In point of fact, the chief office-keeper had been little Jenner, who +came back from dinner at half-past one. + +"And now," said the detective, after putting up the pocketbook, in +which he had pencilled various of the above items of intelligence, "I +should like to get a look at this desk of yours, Mr. Bede Greatorex." + +Bede led the way to his room, and shut himself in with the detective. +While apparently taking no notice whatever of the questions put to his +clerks, keeping his head bent over some papers as if his very life +depended on their perusal, he had in reality listened keenly to the +answers of all. Handing over the key of his table-desk, he allowed the +officer to examine it at will, and waited. He then sat down in his own +handsome chair of green patent leather and motioned the other to a +seat opposite. + +"Mr. Butterby, I do not wish any further stir made in this business." + +Had Mr. Butterby received a cannon-ball on his head he could scarcely +have experienced a greater shock of surprise, and for once made no +reply. Bede Greatorex calmly repeated his injunction, in answer to the +perplexed gaze cast on him. He wished nothing more done in the matter. + +"What on earth for?" cried Mr. Butterby. + +"I shall have to repose some confidence in you," pursued Mr. Bede +Greatorex. "It will be safe, I presume?" + +Butterby quite laughed at the question. Safe! With him! It certainly +would be. If the world only knew the secrets he held in his bosom! + +"And yet I can but trust you partially," resumed Bede Greatorex. "Not +for my own sake; I have nothing to conceal, and should like things +fully investigated; but for the sake of my father and family +generally. Up to early post-time this morning I was more anxious for +Jelf, that he might take the loss in hand, than ever my father was." + +Bede Greatorex paused. But there came no answering remark from his +attentive listener, and he went on again. + +"I received a private note by this morning's post which altered the +aspect of things, and gave me a clue to the real taker of the cheque. +Only a very faint clue: a suspicion rather; and, that, vague and +uncertain: but enough to cause me, in the doubt, to let the matter +drop. In fact there is no choice left for me. We must put up with the +loss of the money." + +Mr. Butterby sat with his hands on his knees, a favourite attitude of +his: his head bent a little forward, his eyes fixed on the speaker. + +"I don't quite take you, Mr. Greatorex," said he. "You must speak out +more plainly." + +Bede Greatorex paused in hesitation. This communication was +distasteful, however necessary he might deem it, and he felt afraid of +letting a dangerous word slip inadvertently. + +"The letter was obscure," he slowly said, "but, if I understand it +aright, the proceeds of the cheque have found their way into the hands +of one whom neither my father nor I would prosecute. To do so would +bring great pain upon us both, perhaps injury. The pain to my father +would be such that I dare not show him the letter, or tell him I have +received it. For his sake, Mr. Butterby, you and I must both hush the +matter up." + +Mr. Butterby felt very much at sea. A silent man by nature and habit, +he sat still yet, and listened for more. + +"There will be no difficulty, I presume?" + +"Let us understand each other, sir. If I take your meaning correctly, +it is this. Somebody is mixed up in the affair whose name it won't do +to bring to light. One of the family, I suppose?" + +Mr. Butterby had to wait for an answer. Bede Greatorex paused ere he +gave it. + +"If not an actual member of the family, it is one so nearly connected +with it, that he may almost be called such." + +"It's a man, then?" + +"It is a man. Will you work with me in this, so as to keep suspicion +from my father? Tacitly let him think you are doing what you can to +investigate the affair. When no result is brought forth, he will +suppose you have been unsuccessful." + +"Of course, sir, if you tell me I am not to go on with it, why I +won't, and it is at an end. Law bless me! Lots of things are put into +our hands one day; and, the next, the family comes and says, Hush 'em +up." + +"So far good, Mr. Butterby. But now, I wish you, for my own +satisfaction, to make some private investigation into it. Quite +secretly, you understand: and if you can learn anything as to the +thief, bring the news quietly to me." + +Mr. Butterby thought this was about as complete a contradiction to +what had gone before as it had been ever his lot to hear. He took +refuge in his silent gaze and waited. Bede Greatorex put his elbow on +the table and his hand to his head as he spoke. + +"If I were able to confide to you the whole case, Mr. Butterby, you +would see how entirely it is encompassed with doubts and difficulties. +I have reason to fancy that the purloiner of the cheque out of this +desk must have been one of the clerks in my room. I think this for two +reasons; one is, that I don't see how anybody else could have had +access to it." + +"But, sir, you stood it out to their faces just now that you did _not_ +suspect them." + +"Because it will not do for them to know that I do. I assure you, Mr. +Butterby, this is a most delicate and dangerous affair. I wish to my +heart it had never happened." + +"Do you mean that the clerk, in taking it--if he did take it--was +acting as the agent of some other party?" + +Bede Greatorex nodded. "Yes, only that." + +"But _that's_ enough to transport him, you know," cried Butterby, +slightly losing the drift of the argument. + +"If we could bring him to book, yes. But that must not be done. I +_don't_ see who else it could have been," added Bede, communing with +himself rather than addressing Mr. Butterby; and his face wore a +strangely perplexed look. + +"Could any of the household--the maidservants, for instance--get into +this here room?" asked Mr. Butterby. + +"There's not one of them would dare to risk it in the daytime. They +are in the other house. No, no; I fear we must look to one of the +young men in the next room." + +Mr. Butterby nodded with satisfaction: matters seemed to be taking a +more reasonable turn. + +"Let's see; there's four of them," he began, beginning to tell the +clerks off on his fingers. "The manager, Brown, confidential, you +said, I think----" + +"I did not say confidential," interrupted Bede Greatorex. "I said we +placed great confidence in him. There's a distinction, Mr. Butterby." + +"Of course. Then there's the little man, Jenner; and the others, Hurst +and Yorke. Have you any doubt yourself as to say one of them?" quickly +asked Mr. Butterby, looking full at the lawyer. + +Bede Greatorex hesitated. "I cannot say I have. It would be so wrong, +you know, to cast a doubt on either, when there is not sufficient +cause; nothing but what may be a passing, foundationless fancy." + +"Speak out, Mr. Bede Greatorex. It's all in the day's work. If there is +really nothing, it won't hurt him; if there is, I may be able to +follow it up. Perhaps it's one of the two gentlemen?" + +"If it be any one of the four, Mr. Hurst." + +The detective so far forgot his good manners as to break into a low +whistle. + +"Mr. Hurst! or Mr. Yorke, do you mean?" he cried, in his surprise. + +"Not Mr. Yorke, certainly. Why should you think of him?" + +"Oh, for nothing," carelessly answered Butterby. "Hurst seems an +upright young man, sir." + +"It is so trifling a doubt I have of him, the lifting of a straw, as +may be said, that I should be sorry to think he is not upright. Still, +I have reason for deciding that he is the most likely, of the four, +for doubt to attach to." + +At that moment, the gentleman in question interrupted them--Josiah +Hurst; bringing a message to Mr. Bede Greatorex. An important client +was waiting to see him. Mr. Butterby took a more curious look at the +young man's countenance than he had ever done in the old days at +Helstonleigh. + +"The lawyer's wrong," thought he to himself. "He is no thiever of +cheques, he isn't." + +"I shall be at liberty in one minute, Mr. Hurst. Shut the door. You +understand?" he added in a low tone to the detective, as they stood up +together in parting. "All that I 'have said to you must be kept +secret; doubly secret from my father. He must suppose you at work, +investigating; whereas, in point of fact, _the thing must drop_. Only, +if you can gain any private information, bring it to me." + +Mr. Butterby answered by one of his emphatic nods. "You see there's +nothing come up yet about that other thing," he said. + +"What other thing?" + +"The death of Mr. Ollivera." + +"And not likely to," returned Bede Greatorex. "That was over and done +with at the time." + +"Just my opinion," said the detective. "Jenner was his clerk in +chambers.". + +"Yes. A faithful little fellow." + +"Looks it. Who's the other one--Mr. Brown?" + +"I can only tell you that he is Mr. Brown; I know nothing of his +family. We have had him three or four years." + +"Had a good character with him, I suppose? Knew where he'd been, and +all that?" + +"Undoubtedly. My father is particular. Why do you ask?" + +"Only because he is the only one in your room that I don't know +something of. Good morning, Mr. Bede Greatorex." + +Bede shut the door, and Mr. Butterby walked away, observing things +indoors and out with a keen eye, while he ruminated on what he had +heard. Sundry reports, connected with the domestic life of Bede +Greatorex, were familiar to his comprehensive ears. + +"It's a rum go, this," quoth he, making his comments "He meant his +wife, he did; I'd a great mind to say so. Hush it up? of course they +must. And Madam keeps the forty-four pounds. But now--_does_ he +suspect it might have been one of the clerks helped her to it, or was +it only a genteel way of stopping my questions as to how the 'member +of the family' could have got indoors to the desk? She grabbed his +key, she did, and took out the cheque herself: leastways I should say +so. Stop a bit, though. Who cashed it at the bank? Perhaps one of 'em +did help her. 'Twasn't Hurst, I know nor little Jenner, either. Don't +think it was young Yorke in spite of that old affair at Galloway's. +T'other, Brown, I don't know. Anyway," concluded Mr. Butterby, his +thoughts recurring to Bede Greatorex, and his wife, "he has got his +torment in her; and he shows it. Never saw a man so altered in all my +life: looks, spirits, manners: it's just as though there was a blight +upon him." + +That the presence of the police-agent in the office had not been +agreeable to the clerks, will be readily understood. It had to be +accepted for an evil; as other evils must be for which there is no +help. Roland Yorke felt inclined to resent it openly, and thought the +fates were against him still, as they had been at Port Natal. What +with that unlucky question of Hurst's and the appearance of Butterby +on the scene, both recalling the miserable escapade of years ago that +he would give all the world to forget, Roland, alike hot-headed and +hot-hearted, was in a state of mind to do any mad thing that came +uppermost. And the morning wore away. + +"Why don't you go to dinner, Mr. Yorke?" + +The question came from the manager. Roland, in his perplexity of mind +and feelings, had unconsciously let the usual time slip by. Catching +up his hat, he tore through the street at speed until he reached the +bank, into which he went with a burst. + +"I want to see one of the principals." + +What with the haste the imperative demand, and the imposing stature +and air, Roland was at once attended to, and a gentleman, nearly as +little as Jenner came forward. + +"Look here," said Roland. "Just you bring me face to face with the +fellow who cashed that cheque yesterday. The clerk, you know." + +"Which cheque?" came the very natural question from the little +gentleman, as he gazed at the applicant. + +"The one there's all this shindy over at Greatorex and Greatorex's. +Drawn out in favour of old Dick Yorke." + +Of course it was not precisely the way to go about things. Before +Roland's request was complied with, a little information was requested +as to what his business might be, and who he was. + +"I am Mr. Roland Yorke." + +"Any relation to Sir Richard Yorke?" + +"His nephew by blood; none at all by friendliness. Old Dick--but never +mind him now. If you'll let me see the clerk, sir, you will hear what +I want with him." + +The clerk, standing at elbow behind the counter, had heard the +colloquy. Roland dashed up to him so impulsively that the little +gentleman could with difficulty keep pace. + +"Now, then," began Roland to the wondering clerk, "look at me--look +well. Am I the man who presented that cheque yesterday?" + +"No, sir, certainly not," was the clerk's reply. "There's not the +least resemblance." + +"Very good," said Roland, a little calming down from his fierceness. +"I thought it well to come and let you see me, that's all." + +"But why so?" asked the principal, thinking Sir Richard Yorke's +nephew, though a fine man, must be rather an eccentric one. + +"Why! why, because I am in Bede Greatorex's office and we've had a +policeman amongst us this morning, looking us up. They say the cheque +was brought here by a tall fellow with black whiskers. As that +description applies to me, and to none of the others, I thought I'd +come and let you see me. That's all. Good morning." + +Dashing out in the same commotion that he had entered, Roland, still +neglecting his dinner, went skimming back to the house of Greatorex +and Greatorex. Not to enter the office, but to pay a visit to Mrs. +Bede's side of it. + +Not very long before this hour, Mr. Bede Greatorex, all the cares of +his business on his shoulders, not the least of them (taking it in all +its relations) being the new one connected with the abstracted cheque +went upstairs for luncheon and a few minutes' relaxation. He found his +wife full of _her_ cares. Mrs. Bede Greatorex had cards out for that +afternoon, bidding the great world to a Kettle-drum and she was +calculating what quantity of ices and strawberries to order in, with +sundry other momentous questions. + +The rooms were turned upside-down. A vast crowd was expected, and +small articles of impeding furniture, holding fragile ornaments, were +being put out of the way, lest they should come to grief in the +turmoil. + +"Yes, that quantity of ice will be sufficient; and be sure take care +that you have an abundance of strawberries," concluded Mrs. Bede +Greatorex to the attendant, who had been receiving her orders. +"Chocolate? Of course. Where's the use of asking senseless questions? +Bede," she added, seeing her husband standing there, "I know how you +detest the smell of chocolate, saying it makes you as sick as a dog, +and brings on headaches; but I cannot dispense with it in my rooms. +Other people give it, and so must I." + +"Give what you like," he said wearily "What is it you are going to +hold? A ball?" + +"A ball in the afternoon! Well done, Bede! It's a drum." + +"The house is never free from disturbance, Louisa," he rejoined, as a +man pushed by with a table. + +"You should let me live away from it. And then you'd not smell the +chocolate. And the doors would not be impeded forever with +carriages, as you grumble they are. With a house in Hyde Park----" + +"Hush!" said Bede in a whisper: "What did I tell you the other +day?--That our expenses are so large, I could not live elsewhere if I +would: Don't wear me out with this everlasting theme, Louisa." + +It was not precisely the hearth for a min, oppressed with the world's +troubles, to find refuge in; neither was she the wife. Bede sighed in +very weariness, and turned to go, away, thinking how welcome to him, +if he could but get transplanted to it, would be the corner of some +far-off desert, never before trodden by the foot of man. + +A great noise on the stairs, as if a coach-and-six were coming up in +fierce commotion, followed by a smart knocking at the room door. Bede +turned to escape, thinking it might possibly be the advance guard of +the Drum. Nobody but Mr. Roland Yorke. And Roland (who had come up on +a vain search for Miss Channing) seeing his master there, at once +began to tell of where he had just been and for what purpose. To keep +his own counsel on matter whatever, would have been extremely +difficult to Roland. + +"It is said, you know, Mr. Bede Greatorex, that the man, who cashed +the cheque and got the money, was a tall fellow with black whiskers so +I thought it well to go and show myself. I am tall," drawing up his +head; "I've got black whiskers," pushing one side forward with his +hand; "and nobody else in your room answered to the description." + +"It was very unnecessary, Mr. Yorke. You were in Port Natal." + +"In Port Natal!" echoed Roland, staring. "What has Port Natal to do +with this?" + +Bede Greatorex slightly laughed. In his self-absorption, he had +suffered his mind to run on other things. + +"As to unnecessary--I don't think so, after what that ill-natured +Hurst said. And perhaps you'd not, sir, if you knew all," added simple +Roland, thinking of Mr. Galloway's banknote. "Anyway, I have been to +the bank to show myself." + +"What did the bank say to you?" questioned Bede Greatorex, his tone +one of light jest. + +"The bank said I was not in the least like the fellow; he was tall, +but not as tall as me, and they are nearly sure he had a beard as well +as whiskers. I thought I'd tell you, sir." + +Mrs. Bede Greatorex, listening to this with curious ears, inquired +what the trouble was, and heard for the first time of the loss of the +cheque, the probable loss of the forty-four pounds. Had Mr. Butterby +been present to mark her surprise, he might have put away his opinion +that she was the recipient alluded to by Bede Greatorex, and perhaps +have mentally begged her pardon for the mistaken thought. + +"Will you come to my kettle-drum, Mr. Roland?" + +"No, I won't," said Roland. "Thank you all the same," he added a +minute after, as if to atone for the bluntness of the reply. "I've +been put out today uncommonly, Mrs. Bede Greatorex; and when a fellow +is, he does not care for drums and kettles." + +However, when the kettle-drum was in full swing about five o'clock in +the afternoon and the stairs were crowded with talkers and trains, +Roland, thinking better of it, elbowed his way up amidst. People who +did not know him, thought he must be from the Court at least; the Lord +Chamberlain, or some such great man, for Roland had a way of holding +his own and tacitly asserting himself, like nobody else. He caught +sight of Gerald, who averted his head at once; he saw Mrs. Hamish +Channing, and she was the only guest he talked to. Roland was again +looking for Annabel. He found her presently in the refreshment room, +seeing that Miss Jane did not make herself ill with strawberries and +cream. + +Into her ear, very much as though it had been a rock of refuge, Roland +confided his wrongs; Mr. Hurst's semi-accusation of him in regard to +the loss, his errand to the bank, and in short all the events of the +morning. + +"I couldn't have done it by _him_," said Roland. "Had he made a fool +of himself when he was young and wicked, I could no more have flung it +in his teeth in after-years, to twist his feelings, than I could twist +yours, Annabel. When I've been repenting of the mad act ever since; +never going to my bed at night or rising in the morning, without +thinking of it and--dashing it: but I was going to say another word: +and hoping and planning how best to recompense every soul that +suffered by it! It was too bad of him." + +"Yes it was," warmly answered Annabel, her cheeks flushing with the +earnestness of her sympathy. "Roland, I never liked that Josiah +Hurst." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +GERALD YORKE IN A DILEMMA. + + +Mr. Gerald Yorke stood in his chambers--as he was pleased to style the +luxurious rooms he occupied in a most fashionable quarter of London. +Gerald liked both luxury and fashion, and went in for both. He was +occupied very much as Mrs. Bede Greatorex had been earlier in the +day--namely, casting a glance round his rooms, and the supplies of +good things just brought into them. For Gerald was to give a wine and +supper party that night. + +Running counter to the career planned for him--the Church--Gerald had +embarked on one of his own choosing. He determined to be a public man; +and had private ambitious visions of a future premiership. He came to +London, got introductions through his family connections, and hoped to +be promoted to some government appointment to start with. As a +preliminary step, he plunged into society and high living; going out +amidst the great world and receiving men in return. This requires some +amount of cash, as everybody who has tried it knows, however unlimited +the general credit may be; and Gerald Yorke laboured under the +drawback of possessing none. A handsome present from Lord Carrick when +his lordship was in funds, of a five-pound note, screwed out of his +mother's shallow purse, constituted his resources. So Gerald did as a +vast many more do--he took to writing as a temporary means of living. +Of genius he had none; but after a little practice he became a +sufficiently ready writer. He tried political articles, he wrote short +stories for periodicals, he obtained a post on one or two good papers +as a reviewer. Gerald liked to review works of fiction best: they gave +him the least trouble: and no one could cut and slash a rival's book +to shreds, more effectively than he. Friendly with a great many of the +literary world, and with men belonging to the press, Gerald found +plenty of work put into his hands, for which he was well paid. At last +he began to try his hand at a book himself. If he could only get +through it, he thought, and it made a hit and brought him back money, +what a glorious thing it would be! + +As the time went on, so did Gerald's hopes. The book progressed +towards completion (in spite of sundry stumbling blocks where he had +seemed _stuck_), and success, with its attendant golden harvest, drew +almost as near to his view, as its necessity was in reality. For the +ready money earned by his stray papers and reviews, was verily but as +a drop of water in the great ocean of Gerald's needs. + +Look at him as he stands there with his back to the fireplace; the +tall, fine man in his evening dress. But there is a savage frown of +perplexity and temper on his generally cynical face, for something has +occurred to annoy him. + +And yet, that had been in its earlier part such a red-lettered day! In +the morning Gerald had put the finishing conclusion to his book, and +complacently written the title. In the afternoon he had been +introduced to a great literary don at Mrs. Bede Greatorex's drum, who +might prove of use in the future. Calling in later upon a friend, he +had taken some dinner with him, and then returned home and dressed for +the opera, his supper guests being bidden for twelve o'clock. He was +just going out on his way to the opera, when two letters met his eye, +which he had overlooked on entering. The one, he saw, was in the +handwriting of a creditor who was becoming troublesome; the other in +that of his wife and marked "Immediate." + +Gerald Yorke had been guilty of one imprudent act, for which there was +no cure. When only twenty-one, he had married. The young lady, +Winnifred Eales, was of no family, and did not possess a fraction of +money. Gerald was taken by her pretty face, and was foolish enough to +marry her off-hand; saddling himself with a wife without having the +wherewithal to keep one. Little did Gerald Yorke's acquaintances in +London suspect that the fast and fashionable young man, (only in his +twenty-sixth year now, though looking older) had a wife and three +children! Had the question been put to Gerald "Are you married?" he +would have briefly acknowledged it; but he never volunteered the +information. His wife was his wife; he did not wish to repudiate +either her or the children; but he had long ago found them an awful +incumbrance, and kept them in the background. To do so was less cost. +Had Gerald come into two or three thousand a year, he would have set +up his tent grandly, have had his family home to it forthwith, and +introduced them to the world: until that desirable time should arrive, +he had meant them to remain in the little country cottage-home in +Gloucestershire, where he had placed them, and where they knew nobody. +But that his wife was tolerably patient and very persuadable, he would +have struck long before. She did grumble; when Gerald visited her she +was fretful, tearful, fractious and complaining. In fact, she was +little better than a child herself, and not by any means a +strong-minded one. + +But the crisis had come. Gerald tore open the letter, with its ominous +word Immediate, and found unwelcome news. For two or three blissful +moments, he did not believe his eyesight, and then the letter was +dashed down in vehement passion. + +"Winny's mad!" + +Whinny (as Gerald's wife was generally called) tired of her lonely +home, of the monotonous care of her children, tired above all of +waiting month after month, year after year, for the fulfilment of his +promises to put matters upon a more satisfactory footing, had taken +the initiative into her own hands. She informed her husband that she +had given up the cottage, sold off its furniture by auction, and +should arrive with the children in London (Paddington terminus) at +three o'clock the next day, where he must meet her if he could: if +not, they should drive at once to him at his chambers, or to his club, +the Young England. A slight concluding hint was annexed that he need +not attempt to stop her by telegraph, for the telegraph people had +received orders not to bring her up any messages that might arrive. + +A pretty announcement, that, for a man in society to get! Gerald stood +very much as if he had received a blow that blinded him. _What_ was he +to do with them when they came? Never in all his life had he been so +pushed into a corner. The clock went ticking on, on; but Gerald did +not heed it. + +His servant came in, under pretence of bringing a dish of fruit, and +ventured to remind him of the engagement at the opera, truly thinking +his master must have forgotten it. Gerald sent the opera very far +away, and ordered the man to shut the door. + +In truth he was in no mood for the opera now. Had there been a +possibility of doing it, he would have put off his supper-party. The +other letter, which he opened in a kind of desperation, contained +threats of unpleasant proceedings, unless a debt, long sued for, was +paid within twenty-four hours. Money, Gerald must have and he did not +know where to get it. His literary pay had been forestalled wherever +it could be. He had that day applied to young Richard Yorke (or +Vincent, as Gerald generally called him, being the finer name of his +cousin's two baptismal ones) for a loan, and been refused. Apart from +the future difficulties connected with Winny and the children, it +would take some cash in pocket to establish them in lodgings. + +"Winny wants a good shaking for causing me this trouble," earnestly +soliloquised Gerald in his dilemma, that fashionable drawl of his, +kept for the world, not being discernible in private life. "Suppose +she should turn restive and insist on coming _here?_ Good heavens! a +silly, untidy wife, and three ill-kept children!" + +He walked to the sideboard, dashed out a glass of some cordial with +his shaking band, and drank it, for the picture unnerved him. + +"If I could get my book accepted by a publisher, and an advance made +upon it," thought Gerald, resuming his place on the hearthrug, "I +might get along. Some of those confounded publishers are so +independent; they'll keep a manuscript for twelve months and never +look at it." + +A short while before this, Gerald had tried his hand at a play, which +ill-natured managers had hitherto refused to accept. Gerald of course +thought the refusal arose from nothing but prejudice, as some others +do in similar cases. He went on with his soliloquy. + +"I think I'll get some fellow to look over my novel and give me an +opinion upon it--which I can repeat over to a publisher. Write it down +if necessary. That's what I ought to have done by the drama: one is +apt to be overlooked in these days without a special recommendation. +Let's see? Who is there? Hamish Channing. Nobody so good. His +capabilities are first-rate, and I'll make him read it at once. If +Vincent Yorke----" + +The soliloquy was brought to a standstill. Some commotion outside, as +if a visitor had sought to enter and was stopped, caught Gerald's +startled ear; but he knew his servant was trustworthy. The next moment +the door opened, and the man spoke. + +"Mr. Yorke, sir." + +Who should walk in, with his usual disregard to the exigencies of +ceremonious life, but Roland! Gerald stared in utter astonishment; +and, when satisfied that it was in truth his brother, frowned awfully. +Gerald in his high sphere might find it difficult to get along; but to +have an elder brother who was so down in the world as to accept any +common employment that offered, and put up with one room and a turn-up +bedstead, and not scruple to own it, was a very different matter. And +Gerald's intention was to wash his hands of Roland and his low +surroundings, as entirely as Sir Richard Yorke could do. + +Roland took a survey of things in general, and saluted his brother +with off-hand cordiality. He knew his presence there was unacceptable, +but in his good-nature would not appear to remember it. The handsome +rooms, lacking no signs of wealth and comfort, the preparations for +the entertainment that peeped out here and there, Gerald himself (as +Roland would have expressed it) in full fig; all seemed to denote that +life was sunny in this quarter, and Roland thought it was fine to be +Gerald. + +Gerald slowly extended one unwilling finger in response to Roland's +offered grasp, and waited for him to explain his business, not +inviting him to sit. It was not he that would allow Roland to think he +might be a visitor there at will. Roland, however, put himself into a +comfortable velvet lounging-chair of his own accord, as easily as he +might have put himself into the old horsehair thing at Mrs. Jones's: +and then proceeded to tell his errand. + +It was this. Upon going home that night at seven--for he had to stay +late in the office to make up for the time lost at Mrs. Bede's +kettle-drum--Roland found a letter from Lord Carrick, who was in the +shade still. Amidst some personal matters, it contained a confidential +message for Gerald, which Roland was charged to deliver in person. +This was no other than a reminder to Gerald that a certain pecuniary +obligation for which he and Lord Carrick were equally responsible (the +latter having made himself so, to accommodate Gerald, but receiving no +benefit) was becoming due, and that Gerald would have to meet it. +"Tell him, my boy, that I'd willingly find the means for him if I +could, and as much more at the back of it," wrote the good-natured +peer; "but I'm regularly out of everything for the time being, and +_can't_." + +It may be easily conceived that the errand, when explained, did not +tend to increase Roland's welcome. Gerald bit his full lips with +suppressed passion, and could willingly have struck his brother. +Vincent Yorke, perhaps as an ostensible plea for not responding in +kind to Gerald's application for the loan of twenty pounds that day, +said they might have to lose forty-four, and had disclosed to him the +particulars of the appropriated cheque, adding that he should think +suspicion must lie on someone of the four clerks in Bede Greatorex's +office. That was quite enough for Gerald. + +In anything but a temperate way he now attacked his brother, not +saying, Did you steal the cheque? but accusing him of doing it, and +bringing up the old transaction at Mr. Galloway's. There ensued a +sharp, short quarrel: which might have been far sharper on Roland's +side but for the aspersion already cast on him by Hurst: that seemed +to have paved the way for this, and deadened its sting. + +"Look here, Gerald," said Roland, calming down from anger, but +speaking with an emotion at which Gerald stared. "My taking that +twenty pound note from Galloway was an awful mistake; the one great +mistake of my life, for I shall never----" + +"Call it a theft," roared Gerald. + +"For I shall never make such another," went on Roland, just as though +he had not heard the interruption. "It will stick to me always, more +or less, be cropping up everlastingly; but, for all that, it was the +best thing that could have happened to me." + +Gerald answered by a sneer. + +"It sent me out to Port Natal. I should never have gone but for that, +however much I might have talked of it. I wanted to put Arthur +Channing straight with the world, and I couldn't stay and face the +world while I did it. Well, I went out to Port Natal: and I stayed +there, trying to get into funds, and come home with some redeeming +money in my hand. I stayed long enough to knock out of me a great deal +that wanted to come out; idleness, and folly, and senseless pride. I'm +not one of the good and brave ones yet, such as Arthur Channing is; +but I've learnt at any rate to do a little for myself and be tolerant +to others; I've learned not to be ashamed to work honestly for my +bread before eating it. There." + +"The sooner you take yourself out of my rooms, the better," said +Gerald. "I am expecting friends." + +"Don't fancy I'm going to wait till they come; I'd not intrude on +either you or them," retorted Roland, turning to depart. "I came up on +your business, Gerald, tonight, to oblige Carrick; but I shall tell +him to choose somebody else for a messenger if he wants to send again. +Good night." + +Gerald gave no answer. Unless the banging-to the door after Roland +with his foot could be called one. + +He stood ruminating for a short while alone. The message certainly +tended to a further complication of Gerald's perplexities. Although he +had originally assured Lord Carrick that he should not look to him to +meet the bill, he really had done so: for nobody looked in vain to +that imprudent and good-hearted man, when he had it in his power to +help. + +"There's nothing for it but the novel," decided Gerald presently. +"What's the time?" + +Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that it was not yet half-past nine. +As his guests would not arrive until twelve, there was time, and to +spare, for a visit to Hamish Channing. So, packing up his manuscript, +he went forth. + +Hamish sat in his writing-room as usual this evening, working closely. +His face wore a weary look as the light from the candle, the shade +temporarily removed, fell upon it. Ever good-humoured, ever full of +sweet hope, of loving-kindness to the whole world, he cared not for +his weariness; nay, was not conscious of it. + +An arrival at the street door, and a bustle in the next room following +closely upon it; a child's joyous laughter and light chatter. Hamish +knew the cause. Little Miss Nelly had returned home from a child's +party, her hands laden with fairy gifts. In she came; papa could not +keep the door quite closed from her; in her white muslin frock with +the broad blue sash and sleeve ribbons, and the bit of narrow blue on +her neck, suspending the locket with Grandpapa Channing's likeness in +it. Hamish caught up the lovely little vision and began fondling it; +kissing the bright cheeks, the chattering lips, the pretty neck. + +"And now Nelly must go," he said, "for I have my work to do." + +"A great deal of work?" + +"Oceans of it, Nelly." + +"Mamma says, you work too much," returned Nelly, looking full at him +with her brilliant, sweet blue eyes, so like his own. + +"Tell mamma I say she knows nothing about it." + +"Jane Greatorex was there, papa, and Aunt Annabel. She told me to tell +you, too, not to work so much." + +"Jane Greatorex did?" + +"Now, papa, you know! Annabel." + +"We'll have mamma and Annabel taken up for conspiracy. Good night, my +little treasure: I'd keep you here always if I could." + +"Let me say my prayers to you tonight, papa," whispered the child. + +He was about to say no, but seemed to change his mind, and quitted the +chair at the writing-table for another. Then Nelly, throwing all her +gifts on the table in a heap, knelt down and put up her hands to say +her prayers. When she had concluded them, he did not let her rise, but +laid his hand upon her head and kept it there in silence, as if +praying himself. And Nelly went out with some awe, for papa's eyes +looked as if they had tears in them. + +Hamish had settled to work again, and Nelly would be a myth until the +next morning, when Gerald Yorke arrived, dashing up in a hansom. He +came in to Hamish at once, carrying his manuscript. + +"You'll do me a favour, won't you, old friend?" + +"What is it?" asked Hamish, the sunny smile on his face already an +earnest of compliance. And Gerald undid his manuscript. + +"I want you to read this; to go over it carefully and attentively; and +then give me your opinion of it. I thought once of asking Caustic, but +your judgment is worth more than his, because I know you'll give a +true report." + +Gerald had either been in too great haste to make a fair copy for the +press, or else had deemed that point superfluous. As Hamish caught +sight of the blurred and blotted lines in Gerald's notably illegible +hand, he hesitated. He was so _full_ of work, and this would be indeed +a task. Only for the tenth part of a moment, however; he could sit up +at night and get through it. + +"At once," said Gerald. "If you could put away your own work for it, I +should be obliged; I have a reason for wishing to get it back +directly. And Hamish, you'll mind and give me your real opinion in +strict candour." + +"Do you say that seriously?" asked Hamish, his tone one of grave +meaning. + +"Of coarse I do. Or why should I ask you to read it at all?" + +"Not very long ago, a friend brought me a work he had written, begging +me to look over it, and tell him what I thought of it, without +disguise or flattery, just as you do now," spoke Hamish. "Well, I +thought he meant it, and did as he requested. Above all, he had said, +point out to me the faults. I did point out the faults. I told him my +opinion candidly and kindly, and it was not a favourable one. Gerald, +I lost my friend from that hour." + +Gerald laughed. The cases, he thought, were totally dissimilar. Had an +angel from Heaven come down and said an unfavourable opinion could be +pronounced upon this work of his, he had not believed it. + +"Don't be afraid, Channing. I shall thank you to give me your true +opinion just as though the manuscript belonged to some stranger, who +would never know what you said." + +"I don't like the title," observed Hamish, accepting the conditions. + +"Not like the title?" + +"No." + +Gerald had called it by a title more wonderful than attractive. The +good sense of Hamish Channing discovered the mistake at once. + +"We made it up between us one night over our drink; one put in one +word and one another," said Gerald, alluding to sundry confrères of +his. "After all, Hamish, it's the book that makes the success, not the +title." + +"But a good book should possess a good title." + +"Well, the title can go for now; time enough to alter that later," +concluded Gerald, rather testily. "You'll lose no time, Channing?" + +"No more than I can help. To put all my work away you must know to be +impracticable, Gerald. But I'll make what haste I can." Hamish went +with him to the other room where Mrs. Channing was sitting, and Gerald +unbosomed himself to them of his great care; the dilemma which the +evening's post had put him in, as to the speedy arrival of his wife. + +"What on earth to do, I can't tell," he said with a groan. "Lodgings +for a family are not found in an hour; and that's the best thing I can +do with them yet awhile. If Winny were not an utter simpleton, she'd +at least have given me a clear day's warning. And only look at the +impossibility of my getting dinner and tea for them tomorrow, and all +the rest of the necessaries. I shan't know how to set about it." + +Hamish glanced at his wife and she at him, and they spoke almost +simultaneously. + +"If you would like to bring them here first, Gerald, do so. You know +we shall be happy to see Winny. It may give you a few hours more to +fix on lodgings, and they need not move into them until night." + +Gerald twirled his watch-chain as he stood, and did not at once +accept. He was looking very cross. + +"Thank you," he said at length, but not very graciously, "then they +shall come here. I suppose you could not make it convenient to meet +them for me at Paddington, Hamish?" + +"That I certainly could not," replied Hamish. "You know my hours in +the city, Gerald. If you are unable to go yourself, why don't you ask +Roland? I don't suppose"--and Hamish broke into a smile--"his services +are so valuable to Greatorex and Greatorex that they'd make an +objection." + +The mention of his brother was enough for Gerald. He called him a few +contemptuous names, and went out to the cab, which had waited to drive +him back to his chambers, and to the entertaining of his friends, who +arrived in due course, and did not separate too soon. + +Hamish finished his own work, and then he commenced for Gerald. He +sighed a little wearily, as he adjusted his light. Ellen thought him +long, and came in. + +"Not ready yet, Hamish!" + +"My darling, I must sit late tonight. I thought you had gone to bed." + +"I have been waiting. You said at tea-time you had not so very much to +do. It is twelve o'clock. Whatever's that?" + +"Gerald Yorke's manuscript. He wants me to read it." + +"Hamish! As if you had not too much work of your own!" + +"One must do a little kindness now and then," he said cheerfully. "You +go on, love. I'll come by-and-by." + +It was of no use saying more, as Ellen knew by experience. This was +not the first friend's manuscript he had toiled through: and she went +upstairs. Hamish glanced at the light, saw that he had another candle +in readiness, coughed a little, as he often did now, applied himself +closely to his task until three o'clock, and then left off. In heart +and mind ever genial, he thought nothing of the extra toil: it was to +do a good turn for Gerald. Surely these unselfish, loving natures +shall find their deeds recorded on high, and meet with their reward! + +He was up with the lark. Six o'clock saw him in his room again, that +he might give a few more hours to the manuscript before proceeding to +his daily work in the city. + +Hamish Channing's was no eye-service, either to heaven or to man. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +VISITORS FOR MRS. JONES. + + +When the exigencies of a story require that two parts of it should be +related at once, the difficulty is, which to take first; or rather +which may be delayed with the least inconvenience: and very often, as +is the case with other things in life we choose the wrong. + +Mrs. Jones sat in her parlour at the twilight hour and a very dark +twilight, too, but light enough for the employment she was so busy +over--knitting. Not woollen socks this time, but some complicated +affair of silk, more profitable than the stockings. Roland Yorke had +just started on that visit, already told of, to Gerald's chambers, +after enjoying a sumptuous tea and toasted muffin in Mrs. Jones's +parlour, where, for the sake of company, his meals were sometimes +taken. Miss Rye was out at work; Mr. Ollivera had an evening service; +and so the house was quiet, and Mrs. Jones at leisure to pursue her +occupation. + +Not for very long. A double knock at the street door gave forth its +echoes, and the servant-maid came in, after answering it. + +"A gentleman wants to know if there's not a room to let here, ma'am." + +Mrs. Jones looked up as if she meant to snap the girl's nose off. "How +should he know any room's to let? There's no bill up." + +"I've asked him into Mr. Yorke's parlour," said the girl, aware that +it was worse than profitless to contend with her mistress. "He has got +spectacles on, and he says his name's Mr. Brown." + +Mrs. Jones shook out her gown and went to the visitor: a tall +gentleman with those slightly-stained glasses on that are called smoke +coloured. He generally took them off indoors, wearing them in the +street to protect his eyes from the sun, but on this occasion he kept +them on. It was the Mr. Brown who belonged to the house of Greatorex +and Greatorex; Mrs. Jones had heard his name, but did not know him +personally and he had to introduce himself as well as his business. + +Mr. Roland Yorke, in his confidential communications to Josiah Hurst +and the office generally, touching other people's concerns as well as +his own--for gossiping, as an agreeable interlude to his hard work, +still held its sway over Roland--had told of the departure of the +scripture reader for another district, and the vacancy, in +consequence, in Mrs. Jones's household. Mr. Brown, listening to all +this, but saying nothing, had come to the conclusion that the room +might suit himself; hence his visit tonight. He related these +particulars quite candidly, and asked to see the room if it were not +already let. He should give very little trouble, he said, took nothing +at home but his breakfast and tea, and had his boots cleaned out of +doors. + +Mrs. Jones marshalled him to the room: the back-parlour, as the reader +may remember: and the bargain was concluded at once, without a +dissentient voice on the stranger's part. Mrs. Jones remembered +afterwards that when she held the candle aloft for him to see its +proportions and furniture, he scarcely gave a single glance before +saying it would do, and laid the first week's rent down in lieu of +references. + +"Who asked for references?" tartly demanded Mrs. Jones, not a whit +more courteous to him, her lodger in prospective, than she was to +others. "Time enough to speak of references when you're told they're +wanted. Little Jenner has often talked of you. Take up the money, if +you please." + +"But I prefer to pay my rent in advance," said Mr. Brown. "It has been +my custom to do so where I am." + +He spoke decisively, in a tone that admitted of no appeal, and Mrs. +Jones caught up the money with a jerk and put it loose in her pocket. +Saying he would let her know the time of his entrance, which might +probably be on the following evening, he wished her goodnight, and +departed: leaving an impression on his future landlady that his voice +was in some way not altogether unfamiliar to her. + +"I'm not as 'cute in remembering faces as Alletha is," acknowledged +Mrs. Jones to herself, while she watched him down the street from the +front door, "but I'll back my ears against hers for voices any day. +Not lately; I hardly think that; it's more like a remembrance of the +far past. Still I don't remember his face. Heard him speak perhaps in +some railway train; or----Goodness heart alive! Is it _you?_" + +This sudden break was occasioned by the appearance of another +gentleman, who seemed to have sprung from nowhere, until he halted +close before her. It was the detective officer, Butterby: and Mrs. +Jones had not seen him since she quitted her country home. + +"I thought it looked like you," cried Mr. Butterby, giving his hand. +"Says I to myself, as I strolled along, 'If that's not the exact image +of my old friend, Mrs. Jones, it's uncommon like her. It _is_ you, +ma'am! And how are you? So you are living in this quarter!" + +Crafty man! Mrs. Jones had assuredly dealt him a box on the ear could +she have divined that he was deceiving her. He had been watching her +house for some minutes past, knowing just as well as she did that it +was hers. Mrs. Jones invited him indoors, and he went under protest, +not wishing, he said, to intrude: but the going indoors was what he +intended doing all along. + +They sat gossiping of old times and new. Mr. Butterby took a friendly +glass of beer and a biscuit; Mrs. Jones, knitting always, took none. +Without seeming to be at all anxious for the information, he had +speedily gathered in every particular about Roland Yorke that there +was to gather. Not too charitably disposed to the world in general, in +speech at any rate, Mrs. Jones yet spoke well of Roland. + +"He is no more like the proud, selfish aristocrat he used to be than +chalk's like cheese," she said. "In his younger days Roland Yorke +thought the world was made for him and his pleasure, no matter who +else suffered: he doesn't think it now." + +"Sowed his wild oats, has he?" remarked Mr. Butterby. + +"For the matter of wild oats, I never knew he had any particular ones +to sow," retorted Mrs. Jones. "Whether or not, he has got none left, +that I can see." + +"Wouldn't help himself to another twenty-pound note," said Mr. +Butterby carelessly, stretching out his hand to take a second biscuit. + +"No, that he would not," emphatically pronounced Mrs. Jones. "And I +know this--that there never was an act repented of as he repents of +that. His thoughts are but skin-deep; he's not crafty enough to hide +them, and those that run may read. If cutting off his right hand would +undo that past act, he'd cut it off and be glad, Mr. Butterby." + +"Shouldn't wonder," assented the officer. "Many folks is in the like +case. Have you ever come across that Godfrey Pitman?" + +"Not I. Have you?" + +The officer shook his head. Godfrey Pitman had hitherto remained a +dead failure. + +"The man was disguised when he was at your house at Helstonleigh, Mrs. +Jones, there's no doubt of that; and the fact has made detection +difficult, you see." + +The assumption as reflecting disparagement on her and her house, +mortally offended Mrs. Jones. She treated Mr. Butterby to a taste of +the old tongue he so well remembered, and saw him with the barest +civility to the door on his departure. Miss Rye happened to be coming +in at the time, and Mr. Butterby regarded her curiously with his green +eyes in saluting her. Her face and lips turned white as ashes. + +"What brings _him_ here? she asked under her breath, when Mrs. Jones +came back to her parlour from shutting the door. + +"His pleasure, I suppose," was Mrs. Jones's answer, a great deal too +much put out to say that he had come (as she supposed) accidentally. +Disguised men lodging in her house, indeed! "What's the matter with +_you?_" + +Alletha Rye had sat down on the nearest chair, and seemed labouring to +get her breath. The ghastly face, the signs of agitation altogether, +attracted the notice of Mrs. Jones. + +"I have got that stitch in my side again; I walked fast," was all she +said. + +Mrs. Jones caught up her knitting. + +"Did Butterby want anything in particular?" presently asked Miss Rye. + +"No, he did not. He is in London about some business or other, and saw +me standing at the door this evening as he passed by. Have you got +your work finished?" + +"Yes," replied Alletha, beginning to unfasten her mantle and +bonnet-strings. + +"I've let the back-parlour," remarked Mrs. Jones; "so if there's any +of your pieces in the room, the sooner you fetch them out the better. +Brown, the managing clerk to Mr. Bede Greatorex, has taken it." + +"Who?" cried Alletha, springing out of her seat. + +"It's a good thing there's no nerves in this house; you'd startle +them," snapped Mrs. Jones. "What ails you tonight?" + +Alletha Rye turned her back, apparently searching for something in the +sideboard drawer. Her face was growing paler, if possible, than +before; her fingers shook; the terror in her eyes was all too +conspicuous. She was silently striving for composure, and hiding +herself while she did so. When it had in a degree come she faced Mrs. +Jones again, who was knitting furiously, and spoke in a quiet tone. + +"Who did you say had taken the room, Julia? Mr. Brown? Why should _he_ +take it?" + +"You can go and ask him why." + +"I would not let it to him," said Alletha, earnestly. "Don't; pray +don't." + +Down went the knitting with a fling. "Now just you explain yourself, +Alletha Rye. What has the man done to you, that you should put in your +word against his coming in?" + +"Nothing." + +"Oh! Then why should he _not_ come pray? His worst enemy can't say +he's not respectable--after being for years confidential clerk to +Greatorex and Greatorex. Do you hear?--what have you to urge against +his coming?" + +Alletha Rye was at a loss for an answer. The real reason she dared not +give; and it was difficult to invent one. But the taxed brain is +wonderfully apt. + +"It may not be agreeable to Mr. Yorke." + +Mrs. Jones was never nearer going into a real passion: and, in spite +of her sharp tongue, passion with her was exceedingly rare. She gave +Alletha what she called a taste of her mind and it was rather a +bitter one while it lasted. Mrs. Jones did not drop it easily, and it +was she who broke the ensuing silence. + +"Don't bring up Mr. Yorke's name under any of your false pretences, +Alletha Rye. _You_ have taken some crotchet in your head against the +man, though I don't know how or when you can have seen him, just as +you did against Parson Ollivera. Anyway, I have accepted Brown as +tenant, and he comes into possession tomorrow night." + +"Then I may as well move my work out at once," said Alletha, meekly, +taking up a candle. + +She went into the back parlour, and caught hold of an upright piece of +furniture, and pressed her aching head upon it as if it were a refuge. +The candle remained on the chest of drawers; the work, lying about, +was ungathered but she stood on, moaning out words of distress and +despair. + +"It is the hand of fate. It is bringing all things and people together +in one nucleus; just has it has been working to do ever since the +death of John Ollivera." + +But the events of the evening were not entirely over, and a word or +two must be yet given to it. There seemed to be nothing but encounters +and re-encounters. As Mr. Butterby was walking down the street on his +departure, turning his eyes (not his head) from side to side in the +quiet manner characteristic of him observing all, but apparently +seeing nothing, though he had no object in view just now, there came +up a wayfarer to jostle him; a tall, strong young man, who walked as +if the street were made for him, and nearly walked over quiet Mr. +Butterby. + +"Halloa!" cried Roland, for it was nobody else. "It's you, is it! What +do you do up here?" + +Roland's tone was none of the pleasantest, savouring rather of the +haughty assumption of old days. His interview with Gerald, from which +he was hastening, had not tended to appease him, and Mr. Butterby was +as much his bête noire as he had ever been. The officer did not like +the tone: he was a greater man than he used to be, having got up some +steps in the official world. + +"Looking after you, perhaps," retorted Mr. Butterby. "The streets are +free for me, I suppose." + +"It would not be the first time you had looked after the wrong man. +How many innocent people have you taken into custody lately?" + +"Now you just keep a civil tongue in your month, Mr. Roland Yorke. +You'd not like it if I took you." + +"I should like it as well as Arthur Channing liked it when you took +him," said bold Roland. "There's been a grudge lying on my mind +against you ever since that transaction, Butterby, and I promise you +I'll pay it off if I get the chance." + +"Did you make free with that cheque yesterday, Mr. Yorke--as you did +by the other money?" asked Mr. Butterby, slightly exasperated. + +"Perhaps I did and perhaps I didn't," said Roland. "Think so, if you +like. You are no better than a calf in these matters, you know, +Butterby. Poor meek Jenkins, who was too good to stop in the same +atmosphere that other folks breathed, was clearer-sighted than you. +'It's Arthur Channing, your worships, and I've took him prisoner to +answer for it,' says you to the magistrates. 'It never was Arthur +Channing,' says Jenkins, nearly going down on his knees to you in his +honest truth. 'Pooh, pooh,' says you, virtuously indignant, 'I know a +thief when I see him----'" + +"Now I vow, Mr. Roland Yorke----" + +"Don't interrupt your betters Butterby; wait till I've done," cried +aggravating Roland, over-bearing the quieter voice. "You took up +Arthur Channing, and moved heaven and earth to get him convicted. Had +the wise king, Solomon, come express down from the stars on a frosty +night, to tell you Arthur was innocent, you'd have pooh-poohed him as +you did poor Jenkins. But it turned out not to be Arthur, you know, +old Butterby; it was me. And now if you think you'd like to go in for +the same mistake again, _go_ in for it. You would, if you took me up +for this second thing." + +"I can tell you what, Mr. Roland Yorke--you'd look rather foolish if I +walked into Mr. Greatorex's office tomorrow morning, and told him of +that past mistake." + +"I don't much care whether you do or don't," said candid Roland. "As +good let it come out as not, for somebody or other is always casting +it in my teeth. Hurst does; my brother Gerald does--I've come now +straight from hearing it. I thought I should have lived that down at +Port Natal; but it seems I didn't." + +"You'll not live it down by impudence," said Mr. Butterby. + +"Then I must live it up," was the retort, "for impudence is a fault of +mine. I've heard you say I had enough for the devil. So good night to +you, Butterby. I am to be found at my lodgings, if you'd like to come +after me there with a pair of handcuffs." + +Roland went striding off, and the officer stood to look after him. +In spite of the "impudence" received, a smile crossed his face; it +was the same impulsive, careless, boyish Roland Yorke of past days, +good-natured under his worst sting. But whatever other impression +might have been left upon Mr. Butterby's mind by the encounter, one +lay very clear--that it was not Roland who was guilty this time, and +he must look elsewhere for the purloiner of the cheque. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +WINNY. + + +Five minutes past three at the Paddington station, and all the bustle +and confusion of a train just in. Gerald Yorke stood on the platform, +welcoming a pretty little fair-haired woman, whose unmeaning doll's +face was given to dimple with smiles one minute, and to pout the next. +Also three fair-haired children, the eldest three years old, the +youngest just able to walk. Mrs. Gerald Yorke was not much better than +a child herself. To say the truth, she was somewhat of a doll in +intellect as well as face; standing always in awe of big, resolute, +clever Gerald, yielding implicitly to his superior will. But for a +strong-minded sister, who had loudly rebelled against Winny's wrongs, +in being condemned to an obscure country cottage, while he flourished +in high life in London, and who managed privately the removal for her, +she had never dared to venture on the step; but this was not to be +confessed to her husband. She felt more afraid than ever of the +consequences of having taken it, now that she saw him face to face. + +"How many packages have you, Winny?" + +"Nineteen." + +"Nineteen!" + +"But they are not all large, Gerald. Some of them are small bundles, +done up in kitchen towels and pillowcases." + +Gerald bit his lip to avoid an ugly word: to anybody but his wife on +this her first arrival in London, he would have flung it out. + +"Have you brought no nursemaid, Winny?" + +"Good gracious, no! How could I tell I might afford to bring one, +Gerald? You know I had but one maid for everything, down there." + +Hurrying them into a cab, Gerald went in search of the luggage, +suppressing a groan, and glancing over his shoulder on all sides. +Bundles done up in kitchen towels and pillowcases! If Gerald Yorke had +never before offered up a prayer, he did then: that no ill-chance +might have brought any of his fashionable friends to the station that +unlucky afternoon. + +"Drive through the obscurest streets," he said in the cabman's ear on +his return, as he mentioned Hamish Channing's address. "Never mind +taking a round; I'll pay you." And the man put his whip to the bridge +of his nose, and gave a confidential nod in answer: for which Gerald +could have knocked him down. + +"And now, Winny, tell me how you came to do this mad thing," he said +sternly, when he was seated with them. + +For answer, Mrs. Yorke broke into a burst of sobs. It was coming, she +thought. But Gerald had no mind for a scene there; and so held his +tongue to a better opportunity. But the tears continued, and Gerald +angrily ordered her not to be a child. + +"You've never kissed one of us," sobbed Winny. "You've not as much as +kissed baby." + +"Would you have had me kiss you on the platform?" he angrily demanded. +"Make a family embracing of it, for the benefit of the public! I'll +kiss you when we get in. You are more ridiculous than ever, Winny." + +The three little things, sitting opposite, were still as mice, looking +shyly at him with their timid blue eyes. Gerald took one upon his knee +for a moment and pressed its face to his own, fondly enough. Fortune +was very unkind to him he thought, in not giving him a fine house for +these children, and a thousand or two per annum to keep them on. + +"Are we going to your chambers, Gerald?" + +"That is another foolish question, Winny! My chambers are hardly large +enough for me. I have taken lodgings for you this morning; the best I +could at a minute's notice. London is full of drawbacks and +inconveniences: if you have to put up with some, you must remember +that you have brought them on yourself." + +"Will there be any dinner for us?" asked Winny timidly. "The poor +little girls are very hungry." + +"You are going to Mrs. Hamish Channing's until tonight. I daresay +she'll have dinner ready for you. Afterwards you can call at the +rooms, and settle with the landlady what you will want got in." + +The change in Mrs. Yorke's face was like magic; a glad brightness +overspread it. Once when she was ill in lodgings at Helstonleigh, +before her husband removed her into Gloucestershire, her eldest child +being then an infant, Hamish Channing's wife had been wonderfully kind +to her. To hear that she was going to her seemed like a haven of +refuge in this wilderness of a London, which she had never until now +visited. + +"Oh, thank you, Gerald. I am so glad." + +"I suppose you have brought some money with you," said Gerald. + +"I think I have about sixteen shillings," she answered, beginning to +turn out her purse. + +"Where's the rest? + +"What rest?" + +"The money for the furniture. You wrote me word you had sold it." + +"But there were the debts, Gerald. I sold the furniture to pay them. +How else could I have left?--they'd not have let me come away. It was +not enough to pay all; there's six or seven pounds unpaid still." + +An exceedingly blank look settled on Gerald's face. The one ray of +comfort looming out of this checkmating step of his wife's, +reconciling him to it in a small degree, had been the thought of the +money she would receive for the furniture. But what he might have said +was stopped by a shriek from Winny, who became suddenly aware that the +cab, save for themselves, was empty. + +"The luggage, Gerald, the luggage! O Gerald, the luggage!" + +"Hold your tongue, Winny," said Gerald angrily, pulling her back as +she was about either to spring out or to stop the driver. "The luggage +is all right. It will be sent to the lodgings." + +"But we want some of the things at once," said Winny piteously. "What +shall we do without them?" + +"The best you can," coolly answered Gerald. "Did you suppose you were +going to fill Hamish Channing's hall with boxes and bundles?" + +Mrs. Channing stood ready to receive them with her face of welcome, +and the first thing Winny did was to burst into tears and sob out the +grievance about the luggage in her arms. If Gerald Yorke had married a +pretty wife, he had also married a silly and incapable one: and Gerald +had known it for some years now. Just waiting to hand them over to +Mrs. Channing's care, and to give the written address of the lodgings, +Gerald left. He was engaged that afternoon to dine with a party at +Richmond, and would not see his wife again before the morrow. + +"Don't--you--mean--to live with us?" she ventured to ask, on hearing +him say this, her face growing white with dismay. + +"Of course I shall live with you," sharply answered Gerald. "But I +have my chambers, and when engagements keep me out, shall sleep at +them." + +And Gerald, lightly vaulting into a passing hansom, was cantered off. +Winny turned to her good friend Ellen Channing for consolation, who +gave her the best that the circumstances admitted of. + +Hamish, beyond his bright welcome, saw very little of Winny that +evening; he was shut up with her husband's manuscript. He took +her home at night. The lodgings engaged by Gerald consisted of a +sitting-room and two bedchambers, the people of the house to cook and +give attendance. Hamish paid the cab and accompanied her indoors. The +first thing Mrs. Gerald Yorke did, was to sit down on the lowest +chair, and begin to cry. Her little girls, worn out with the day's +excitement and the happy play in Nelly Channing's nursery, were fit to +drop with fatigue, and put themselves quietly on the carpet. + +"Oh, Mr. Channing! do you think he is not going to forgive me! It is +so cruel of him to send us into this strange place all alone." + +"He had an engagement, you know," answered Hamish, his tone taking, +perhaps unconsciously, the same kind of soothing persuasion that he +would have used to a child. "London engagements are sometimes not to +be put off." + +"I wish I was back in Gloucestershire!" she bewailed. + +"It will be all right, Mrs. Yorke," he returned gaily. "One always +feels unhappy in a fresh place. The night Ellen first slept in London +she cried to be back at Helstonleigh." + +A servant, who looked untidy enough to have a world full of work upon +her back, showed Hamish out. In answer to a question, she said that +she was the only one kept, and would have to wait on the new lodgers. +Hamish slipped some money into the girl's hand and bade her do all she +could for the lady and the little children. + +And so, leaving Gerald's wife in her new home, he went back to his +work. + +He, Hamish Channing, with his good looks and his courtly presence, was +treading the streets gaily on the following morning. Many a man, +pressing on to business, spared a moment to turn and glance at him, +wondering who the fine, handsome fellow was, with the bright and good +face. It was a face that would be bright always, bright in dying; but +it had more than two shades of care on it today. For if any one living +man hated, more than another, to inflict pain and disappointment, it +was Hamish Channing. He was carrying back Gerald's manuscript, and had +no good report to give of it. + +However clever Gerald might be at dashing off slashing articles in the +review line, he would never be able to succeed in fiction. This first +attempt proved it indisputably to Hamish Channing. The story was +unconnected, the plot scarcely distinguishable, and there were very +grave faults besides, offending against morality and good taste. Not +one reader in fifty, and that must be some school-girl, inveterate +after novels, could get through the first volume. Certainly, in +plunging into a long work of fiction, Gerald Yorke had mistaken his +vocation. How entirely different this crude and worthless book was +from the high-class work Hamish was writing, his cheeks glowed to +contemplate. Not in triumph over Gerald; never a tarnish of such a +feeling could lie in his generous heart; but at the consciousness of +his own capability, the gift given him by God, and what the work would +be to the public. But that he deemed it lay in his duty, in all +kindliness, not to deceive Gerald, he would not have told him the +truth; no, in spite of the promise exacted of him to give a just, +unvarnished report. + +Gerald sat at breakfast, in a flowery dressing-gown, in the rooms he +was pleased to call his chambers, his breakfast and its appointments +perfect. Silver glittered on the table, its linen was of the fairest +damask, the chocolate and cream sent its aroma aloft. Gerald's taste +was luxurious: he could not have lived upon a sovereign a-week as +Roland was doing: perhaps Roland had never learnt to do it but for +that renowned voyage of his. + +"Halloa, Hamish, old fellow! What brings you here so early?" + +"Oh, one or two matters," answered Hamish, keeping the manuscript out +of sight at first, for he really shrank from having to report of it. +"I was not sure you would be up." + +"I had to be up early this morning. Tell your news out, Hamish; I +suppose the gist of it is that Winny is in a state of rebellion. Stay! +I'll send the things away. One has no appetite after a Star-and-Garter +dinner and pipes to wind up with till three in the morning. You have +breakfasted?" + +"An hour ago." + +"It is an awfully provoking step for Winny to have taken," said +Gerald, as his servant disappeared with the breakfast tray. "She +has no doubt been grumbling to you and Mrs. Channing about her +'wrongs,'--it's what she called it yesterday--but I know mine are +worse. Fancy her taking such a mad start! What on earth I am to do +with them in town, I can't guess. You've not got her outside, I +suppose? You know, Hamish, I couldn't help myself; I had to leave +her." + +"Qui s'excuse s'accuse," returned Hamish, with one of his sunny smiles +chancing on the very common French proverb that Mr. Bede Greatorex had +applied but recently to Gerald's brother. + +"Oh bother," said Gerald. "Did Winny strike last night, and refuse to +go into lodgings?" + +"She went all right enough but she didn't like your leaving her to go +in alone. My wife seized hold of the occasion to read me a lecture, +saying _she_ should not like it at all; I'm not sure but she said 'not +put up with it.'" + +"Your wife is a different woman from mine," growled Gerald; for +Hamish's gay, half mocking tone covering a kinder and deeper feeling, +jarred somewhat on his perplexed mind. "You knew what Winny is before +today. I shall go down and see her by-and-by." + +"Shall you keep these chambers on?" + +"Keep these chambers on!" echoed Gerald, "why, of _course_ I must keep +them on. And live at them too, in a general way. Though how I shall +afford the cost of the two places, the devil only knows." + +"You have been affording it hitherto. Winny has had a separate home." + +"What keeps a cottage down yonder, won't pay lodgings in London. You +must know that, Hamish." + +Hamish did not immediately speak: if he could not agree, he would not +disagree. He did not see why Gerald should not take either a small +house, or apartments sufficiently commodious, in a neighbourhood good +enough for his fashionable friends not to be ashamed to resort to. +Hamish and Gerald understood things in so different a light: Gerald +estimated people (and fashion) by their drawl, and dress, and +assumption of fast life: Hamish knew that all good men, no matter +though they were of the very highest rank, were proud to respect worth +and intellect and sincere nature in a poor little home, as in a palace +perched aloft on Hyde Park gates. Ah me! I think one must be coming +near to quit this world and its frivolity, ere the curtain of dazzling +gauze that falls before our eyes is lifted. + +"Are you getting on with my manuscript, Hamish?" + +"I have brought it," said Hamish, taking it from his pocket. "I put +away my own work----" + +"Oh, thank you old fellow," was the quick interruption. + +"Now don't thank me for nothing, Gerald. I was about to say that one +can judge so much better of a book in reading it without breaks given +to other work, that I stretched a point; for my own pleasure, you +know." + +Gerald drew the parcel towards him, and opened it tenderly, undoing +the string as if it fastened some rare treasure. Hamish saw the +feeling, the glad expectation and his fine blue eyes took a tinge of +sadness. Gerald looked up. + +"I think I'll tell you how it is, Hamish. Upon this manuscript----" + +What was it that happened? Gerald broke off abruptly and looked at the +door; his mouth slightly opened, his ear was cocked in the attitude of +one, listening anxiously. Hamish, unused to the sounds of the place, +heard nothing whatever. + +"Say I'm out, Hamish, old fellow; say I'm out," whispered Gerald, +disappearing noiselessly within an invisible closet; invisible from +being papered like the walls and opening with a knob no bigger than a +nut. Hamish sat in a trance of inward astonishment, easy as ever +outwardly, a half smile upon his face. + +He opened the door in answer to a knock. A respectable-looking man at +once stepped inside, asking to see Mr. Yorke. + +Hamish with a gesture of his hand pointed to the empty room, +indicating that Mr. Yorke was not there to be seen. The applicant +looked round it curiously; and at that moment Gerald's servant came up +with a rush, and glanced round as keenly as the applicant. + +"My master's gone out for the day, Mr. Brookes." + +"How many more times am I to have that answer given me?" demanded Mr. +Brookes. "It's hardly likely he'd be gone out so soon as this." + +"Likely or not, he's gone," said the servant, speaking with easy +indifference. + +"Well, look here; there's the account, delivered once more and for +the last time," said Mr. Brookes, handing in a paper. "If it's not +paid within four-and-twenty hours, I shall summons him to the +county-court." + +"And he means it," emphatically whispered the servant in Hamish's +hearing, as Mr. Brookes's descending footsteps echoed on the stairs. + +Hamish pulled back the closet-door by the knob to release Gerald. He +came forth like a whirlwind--if a furious passion may be called one. +Hamish had not heard so much abuse lavished on one person for many a +day as Gerald gave his servant. The man had been momentarily off his +usual vigilant guard, and so allowed Gerald's sanctum (and all but his +person) to be invaded by an enemy. + +"I owe the fellow a trifle for boots," said Gerald, when he had driven +his servant from the room. "He is an awful dun, and will not be put +off much longer. Seven pounds ten shillings,"--dashing open the bill. +"And for that paltry sum he'll county-court me!" + +"Pay him," said Hamish. + +"Pay him! I should like to pay him," returned Gerald, gloomily. "I'd +pay him today, and have done with him, if I could, and think it the +best money ever laid out. I'm awfully hard up, Hamish, and that's a +fact." + +Hamish began mentally to deliberate whether he was able to help him. +Gerald stood on the hearthrug, very savage with the world in general. + +"I'd move heaven and earth to avoid the county-court," he said. "It +would be sure to get about. Everything is contrary and cross-grained +just now: Carrick's not to the fore; Vincent Yorke says he has neither +cross nor coin to bless himself with, let alone me. I never got but +one loan from the fellow in my life, and be hanged to him!" + +"Your expenses are so heavy, Gerald." + +"Who the devil is to make them lighter?" fiercely demanded Gerald. +"One can't live as a hermit. I beg your pardon, old fellow; I'm cross, +I know, but I have so much to worry me. Things come upon one all at +once. Because I had not enough ways for my ready money just now, Winny +must come up and want a heap." + +"What is pressing you particularly?" + +"That," said Gerald, flicking his hand in the direction of the boot +bill. "There's nothing else very much at the present moment." But the +"present moment" with Gerald meant the present actual hour that was +passing. + +"About my manuscript," he resumed, his tone brightening a little as he +sat down to the table to face Hamish. + +Still, for an instant or two, Hamish hesitated. He drew the sheets +towards him and turned them over, as if in deliberation what to say. + +"You charged me to tell you the truth, Gerald." + +"Of _course_ I did," loudly answered Gerald. "The truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth." + +"Well, Gerald, I should not but for your earnest wish, and that it is +I suppose the more real kindness to do so, as it may prevent you from +wasting time upon another. I am afraid it won't do, old friend." + +"What won't do?" asked Gerald, with wide-open eyes that showed the +wonder in them. + +Delicately, gently, considerately, as he could have imparted ill news +to the dearest friend he had on earth, Hamish Channing told him the +story would not do, would not, at least, be a success, and pointed out +_why_ he thought so. The book was full of mistakes and faults; these +for the most part he passed lightly over: speaking rather of the +defects of the work as a whole. + +"Go on; let's have it all," said Gerald, when there was a pause: and +Hamish saw nothing of the suppressed passion, or of the irony that lay +at the bottom of the following words. "You think I cannot succeed in +fiction?" + +"Not in a long work----" + +"Why the work's a short one," interrupted Gerald. + +"Very short indeed. Some writers of fiction (and as a rule they are +the best, Gerald) put as much in a volume and a half as you have +written for the three volumes. I don't think you could write a +successful work of fiction in even one volume, Gerald--as I count +success. It must have a plot; it must have consecutiveness in the +working out; it must have--" + +"It must have, in short, just the qualities that my work lacks," +interposed Gerald with a laugh: and Hamish felt relieved that he was +receiving things so easily. + +"If I thought that any hints or help of mine would enable you to +accomplish a work likely to be successful, I would heartily put myself +at your service, Gerald. But I don't. I am sure you have mistaken your +vocation in attempting a work of fiction." + +"Thank you," said Gerald. "_Your_ work has not been tried yet. That's +sure to prove a success, I suppose?" + +The bright glow of anticipation lighted Hamish Manning's sensitive +face. It would have betrayed the all-powerful hope lying within him, +apart from the involuntary smile, checked on his lips. + +"I could hardly bring myself to make the report, Gerald. And should +not, I think, but that I care for your interests as for those of my +own brothers. You know I do, and therefore will not mistake me. I +debated whether I should not get up some excuse for giving no opinion, +except that you had better submit it to a publisher. Of course you can +do that still." + +"Let me understand you," said Gerald. "You wish to inform me that no +publisher would be likely to take it." Hamish paused slightly. "I do +not say that. Publishers take all kinds of works. The chief +embarrassment on my mind is this, Gerald: that, if published, it could +not bring you much honour or credit; or--I think--returns." + +They shook hands; and Hamish, who would be late at his office, +departed, leaving Gerald alone. He went along with a light, glad step, +wondering whether he could afford to help Gerald out of the money +difficulty of the day. Sixteen guineas were due to him for literary +work; if he got it paid, he would enclose the receipt for the +boot-bill to Gerald, saying nothing. + +Leaving Gerald alone. Alone with his bitter anger; with an evil look +on his face, and revenge at his heart. + +There was only one thing could have exceeded Gerald Yorke's +astonishment at the veto pronounced, and that was the utter +incredulity with which he received it. He had looked upon his book as +a rara avis, a black swan: just as we all look on our productions, +whether they may be bad or good. The bad ones perhaps are thought most +of: they are more trusted to bring back substantial reward. Of course, +therefore, Gerald Yorke could but regard the judgment as a +deliberately false one, spoken in jealous envy; tendered to keep him +back from fame. He made the great mistake that many another has made +before him, when receiving honest advice in a similar case, and many +will make again. And the book _gained_ in his opinion rather than +lost. + +"Curse him for his insolence! curse him for a false, self-sufficient +puppy!" foamed Gerald, rapping out unorthodox words in his passion. +"Ware to yourself, Mr. Hamish Channing! you shall find, sooner or +later, what it is to make an enemy of me." + +But Gerald received some balm ere the day was over, for Mr. Brookes's +receipted bill came to him by post in a blank envelope. And he +wondered who on earth had been civil enough to pay the money. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +AT FAULT. + + +It was easier for Mr. Bede Greatorex to say to the police-agents "Drop +the investigation," than it was for them to do it. Had he been the +sole person to whom they were responsible, the thing would have lain +in a nutshell; but their employer was his father. And Mr. Greatorex +was pushing discovery to an issue as he had never pushed anything yet. +He looked up details himself; he went backwards and forwards to +Scotland Yard; he was altogether troublesome. + +As the days went on, and Mr. Butterby brought forth no result, only +presented himself once in a way to say there was none to bring, Mr. +Greatorex grew angry. Surely such a thing was never heard of!--as for +a cheque to be stolen out of one of their desks at midday, carried to +the bank and openly cashed, and for the police to say they could not +trace the offender! Mr. Greatorex avowed that the police ought to be +ashamed to confess it; that, in his opinion, they must be getting +incapable of their duties. + +One thing had struck Mr. Greatorex in the matter--that his son Bede +seemed not to be eager for the investigation: if he did not retard it, +he certainly did not push it. Perhaps the best word to express Bede's +state of mind in regard to it, as it appeared to Mr. Greatorex, was +indifference. Why was this? Bede ought to be as anxious as himself. +Nay, more so: it was from his possession and his desk that the cheque +was taken. Mr. Greatorex supposed that the laxity in regard to +business affairs, which appeared latterly to have been creeping upon +his son, must be extending itself even to the stealing of money. Was +he more seriously ill than he allowed them to know? The fear, that it +might be so, crossed the mind of Mr. Greatorex. + +The solicitor sat one morning in his private room, Jonas Butterby +opposite to him. The detective was there in answer to a peremptory +mandate sent by Mr. Greatorex to Scotland Yard the previous day. +Whether Mr. Butterby was responsible to himself alone for the progress +or non-progress of the investigation; or, if not, whether he had +imparted a hint at headquarters of Bede Greatorex's private +communication to him, was locked up within his own breast. One thing +appeared clear--that he was at liberty to do as he pleased. + +"It is not the loss of the money; it is not that the sum of forty-four +pounds is of so much moment to me that I must needs trace it out, and +if possible regain it," Mr. Greatorex urged, his fine, fresh, honest +face bent full on the detective, sternness in its every line. "It is +the unpleasantness of knowing that we have a thief about us: it is the +feeling of insecurity; the fear that the loss will not stop here. +Every night of my life when the offices close, I seem to prepare +myself for the discovery that some other one has taken place during +the day." + +"Not at all an unlikely thing to happen," acknowledged Mr. Butterby, +who probably felt himself less free under existing circumstances than +he usually was, and therefore spoke with deprecation. + +"That the cheque must have been taken by one of the clerks attached to +my son's room, I think there can be little doubt of. The difficulty +is----" + +"Mr. Bede thinks so himself," interrupted Butterby. "He charged me +specially to look after them; after one of 'em in particular." + +"Which was it?" + +"Hurst." + +"Hurst!" repeated Mr. Greatorex in surprise. + +"But Mr. Bede is mistaken, sir. It was no more Hurst than it was me." + +Instincts are subtle. And one came unbidden into the mind of the +detective officer as he spoke--that he had made a mistake in repeating +this to Mr. Greatorex. The truth was--carrying within him his private +instructions, and the consciousness that they must be kept private--he +found these interviews with the head of the firm slightly +embarrassing. + +"Why should he suspect Hurst if he----" + +The door opened, and the person in question appeared at it--Bede +Greatorex. Catching a glimpse of the detective's head, he was going +out of it a vast deal quicker than he had entered; but his father +stopped him. + +"Bede! Bede! Come in. Come in and shut the door. Here's a fine thing I +have just heard--that you are suspecting one person in particular of +having taken the cheque. Over and over again, you have told me there +was nobody in particular to be suspected." + +A lightning glance from Bede Greatorex's fine dark Spanish eyes +flashed out on the detective. It said as plainly as glance could +speak, "How dare you presume to betray my confidence?" + +That gentleman sat unmoved, and nodded a good morning with his +customary equanimity. + +"Mr. Greatorex--doing me the honour to call upon me to report +progress--observed that he fully thought it was one of the clerks in +your room we must look to, sir," spoke Butterby in a slow calm tone. +"I told him your opinion was the same; and you had charged me to look +well after them, especially Mr. Hurst. That was all." + +Bede Greatorex bit his lip in anger. But the communication might have +been worse. + +"What _is_ there against Hurst?" impatiently asked Mr. Greatorex. + +"Nothing at all," said Bede quietly. "If I said to Mr. Butterby that +one of my clerks might have taken the cheque, it was only because +access to my room was more obtainable by them than by anybody else I +can think of. And of the four, Hurst spends the most money." + +"Hurst has the most money to spend," observed Mr. Greatorex. + +"Of course he has. I make no doubt Hurst is as innocent as I." + +This was very different from suspecting Hurst, from desiring that he +should be specially looked after, and perhaps Mr. Greatorex felt the +two accounts the least in the world contradictory. The keen-sighted +observer sitting by, apparently sharpening the point of his broken +lead-pencil, noticed that the eyes of Bede Greatorex never once went +openly into the face of his father. + +"If it was my case," thought the officer, "I should tell him the truth +out and out. No good going about the bush this way, saying he suspects +one and suspects another, when he does not suspect 'em: far better +that old Greatorex should hear the whole and see for himself that it +_can't_ be gone into. He don't care to worrit the old gentleman: +that's what it is." + +That is just what it was. But Mr. Butterby was not right in all his +premises. + +"I am fully persuaded that every clerk on my side the house is as +innocent as are those on yours, sir," spoke Bede Greatorex, a kind of +tremor in his tone; which tremor did not escape the officer's notice, +or that it was caused by anxious, painful eagerness: and that astute +man knew in a moment that old Greatorex must not have his suspicions +turned actively on Bede's employés. "I believe it was Butterby who +first mentioned them. Upon that, I ran them over in my mind, and +remembered that Hurst was the only one spending much money--he lives +in fashionable lodgings as a gentleman. Was it not so, Mr. Butterby?" + +The detective was professionally prepared for most accidents. +Therefore when Bede Greatorex turned upon him with startling rapidity, +a second flash darting forth from his dark eyes, he never moved a +muscle. + +"You are right, sir." + +"Bede," said Mr. Greatorex, in a still tone of meaning, "if the same +facility for getting access to your room attached to the clerks on my +side the house, I should not say to you so positively that they were +not guilty. You seem to resent the very thought that suspicion can +attach to them." + +"Not at all, father. Perhaps I felt vexed that Hurst's name should +have been mentioned to you without grounds." + +"Understand me, Mr. Butterby," spoke the elderly gentleman sharply. "I +expect to have this matter better attended to than it has been. And I +repeat to you that I think the clerks in my son's room should be--I do +not say suspected, but sufficiently thought of. It is monstrous to +know that a theft like this can have been openly committed in a +professional man's house, and you officers should avow yourselves at +fault. We may be losing some of our clients' deeds next." + +The detective glanced at Mr. Bede Greatorex, and was answered, as he +thought, by the faintest signs in return. It was not the first time he +had been concerned in cases where sons wished things kept from +knowledge of fathers. + +"We don't give it up, sir. Allow us more time, and perhaps we may +satisfy you better." + +"I shall expect you to do so," returned Mr. Greatorex with sufficient +emphasis. And the officer rose to quit his presence. "Go round by the +other door to my room and wait." + +Surely these words were breathed into Mr. Butterby's ear! Faint though +the whisper was he could not have fancied it. Bede Greatorex was +crossing his path at the moment, as if he wished to look from the +window. + +Fancy or not, the officer acted upon it. Going round by the street to +the professional entrance, and so on up the passage to the private +room. When Bede Greatorex returned to it, he saw him seated against +the wall, underneath the map of London. + +"You did wrong to mention Mr. Hurst to my father," Bede began with +imperative quickness, as he slipped the bolt of the middle door. + +"That's as it may be," was the rejoinder, cool as usual. "If there's +not some outlet of suspicion given to your father, it will be just +this, Mr. Bede Greatorex--that he'll make one for himself. Leastways, +that's my opinion." + +"Be it so. I do not want it to take the direction of my clerks." + +"He lays the blame on us: says we are lax, or else incapable; and it +is only natural he should think so. Anyway there's no harm done about +Mr. Hurst: you made it right with him there. Do you suspect Hurst +still, sir?" + +"Yes. At least more than I do any one of the others." + +Mr. Butterby put his hands on his knees and bent a little forward. "If +you wish me to do you any service in this, sir, you must not keep me +quite so much in the dark. What I want to get at, Mr. Bede Greatorex, +is the true reason of your pitching upon Hurst yourself." + +"I cannot give it to you," said Bede promptly. "What I told you at our +first interview, I repeat now--that the suspicion against him is but a +faint one. Still it is sufficient to raise a doubt; and I have no +reason to doubt the other three. Jenner is open and honest as the day; +Brown valuable and trustworthy; and Mr. Yorke must of course be +exempt." + +"Oh, of course he must," dryly acquiesced the detective with a cough. +He knew he was sure of Roland in this case, but he thought Bede +Greatorex might not have spoken so confidently had he been cognizant +of a certain matter connected with the past. + +"I would not much mind answering for Jenner myself," remarked Mr. +Butterby. "Brown seems all right, too. + +"Brown's honesty has been sufficiently proved. Very large sums have +passed through his hands habitually, and he has never wronged us by a +shilling. Had he wished to help himself, he would have done it before +now: he has had the opportunity." + +"Then that leaves us back at Hurst again. Where is your objection, +sir, to the doubt of him being mentioned to your father?" + +A kind of startled look crossed Bede's face: a look of fear: and he +spoke hastily. + +"Have you forgotten what I said? That the fact of Mr. Hurst's knowing +he was suspected (assuming he is guilty) would be attended with +danger. Awful danger, too. If it were possible to disclose all to my +father, he would forfeit a great deal that he holds dear in life, +rather than incur it." + +"Well it seems to me that I can be of little use in this matter," said +Butterby, turning somewhat crusty. "I have had dangerous secrets +confided to me in my lifetime, sir; and the parties they were told of +are none the wiser or the worse for it yet." + +"And I wish I could confide this to you," said Bede, steadily and +candidly. "I'd be glad enough to get it out of my keeping, for I don't +know what to do with it. If no one but myself were concerned; if I +could disclose it to you without the risk of injuring others you +should hear it this next minute. For their sakes, Mr. Butterby, my +lips are tied. I dare not speak." + +"Does he mean his wife, or doesn't he?" thought Butterby. And the +question was not solvable. "I'll look after Hurst a bit," he said +aloud. "Truth to tell, I considered him the safest of them all, in +spite of your opinion, Mr. Bede Greatorex, and have let him be. He +shall get a little of my private attention now. And so shall one of +the others," the detective mentally added. + +"Unsuspected by Hurst himself," enjoined Bede, a shade of anxiety in +his voice. + +Could Mr. Butterby have been suspected of so far forgetting +professional dignity as to indulge in winks, it might have seemed that +he answered by one, as he rose from his chair. + +"I'll just take a look in upon them now," he remarked. "And let me +advise you, sir, to get your father in a more reasonable frame of +mind, if possible. If he calls in fresh aid, as he threatens, there +might be the dickens to pay." + +Bede Greatorex crossed the room hastily, as though he meant to guard +the middle door, and spoke in a low tone. + +"I do not care that they should know you have been with me. Not for +the world would I let it come to their knowledge that I doubt either +of them." + +"Now _do_ you suppose that I am a young gosling?" demanded Butterby. +"You have done me the honour to confide this private business to my +hands, Mr. Bede Greatorex, and you may safely leave it in 'em. After +being at the work so many years, there's not much left for me to be +taught." + +He departed by the passage, treading lightly, and halted when he came +to the clerks' door. He was in deep thought. This matter which, as he +phrased it, Mr. Bede Greatorex had done him the honour to put in his +hands, was no such great matter after all; a mere trifle in +professional quarters: but few things had so much puzzled the +detective. Not in his way to discovery: that, as it seemed to him, +would be very easy, could he pursue it openly. Bede Greatorex puzzled +him; his ambiguous words puzzled him; the thing itself puzzled him. In +most cases Mr. Butterby could at least see where he was; in this he +stood in a sea-encompassed fog, not understanding where he was going, +or what he was in search of. + +Giving the swing-door a dash backwards, as though he had just entered, +he went into the room. Mr. Brown was at his desk, Roland Yorke at his; +but the other two were absent. So if the visit had been intended as a +special one to Josiah Hurst, it was a decided failure. + +When was the great Butterby at fault? He had just looked in upon them +"in passing," he said, to give the good-morrow, and enquire how they +relished the present state of the thermometer, which _he_ should +pronounce melting. How did Mr. Yorke like it? + +Mr. Yorke, under the circumstances of not knowing whether he stood on +his head or his heels, had not thought about the thermometer. Since +the receipt of a letter that morning, containing the news that one, +whom he cared for more than a brother, might probably be coming to +London shortly on a visit, Roland had been three parts mad with joy. +He was even genial to the intruder, his bête noire. + +"Is it you, Butterby? How are you getting on, Butterby? Take a stool +if you like, Butterby." + +"Can't stop," said Butterby. "Just meant to give a nod round and go +out again. Not come in on business today. You look spruce, Mr. Yorke." + +"I've got on my Sunday suit," answered Roland--who in point of fact +was uncommonly well got-up, and had a rosebud in his button-hole. +"Carrick's tailor has not a bad cut. You have heard of red-letter +days, old Butterby: this is one for me. One should not put on one's +every-day coat on such occasions: they don't come too often." + +"Got a fortune bequeathed?" enquired Mr. Butterby. + +"It's better than that," said enthusiastic Roland, who in these +moments, when his heart and affections were touched, could but be more +impulsively genuine than ever. "Somebody's coming to London; somebody +that _you_ know, Butterby." + +"Mr. Galloway, perhaps." + +"No; you are wrong this time," returned Roland, not in the least taken +aback: though perhaps the detective, to judge by his significant tone, +meant that he should be. "You'd not see me dressed up for him. There +are two men in Helstonleigh I'd put on shirtsleeves to welcome rather +than a good coat: the one is old Galloway, the other William Yorke. +Guess again." + +Instead of doing anything of the sort, by which perhaps his +professional reserve might have been compromised, Mr. Butterby turned +his attention on the manager. Pursuing his work steadily, he had taken +no heed of Mr. Butterby, beyond a civil salute at first. + +"You've not heard more of this mysterious loss, I suppose?" + +"Nothing more, sir," was Mr. Brown's answer, looking up full at the +speaker, perhaps to show that he did not shrink from intercourse with +a detective officer. "It seems strange, though, that we should not." + +"Thieves are clever when they are professional ones; and I've got to +think it was no less a man did the job for Mr. Greatorex," said +Butterby, in quite a fatherly tone of confidence. "There has been a +regular band of 'em at work lately in London; and in spite of opinions +when I was here last, I say they might have gone in through the +passage straight and bold, and done the job easy, and you unsuspicious +young men, shut up in this here first room, never have heard a sound +of what was going on." + +"I think that is how it must have been failing the other +thought--that Mr. Bede Greatorex took the cheque abroad and dropped +it," said the manager with quiet decision. + +"Of course. And unless I'm mistaken, Mr. Bede thinks the same. I +should like to have three minutes' chat with you some evening, Mr. +Brown, all by our two selves. You are naturally anxious for discovery, +so am I: there's no knowing but what something or other may come out +between us." + +Perhaps to any eye save the watchful one of a police-officer, the +slight hesitation before replying might have passed unnoticed. Mr. +Brown had no particular wish to be questioned; it was no affair of +his, and he thought the detective and Mr. Bede Greatorex quite enough +to manage the matter without him. But when his answer came, it was +spoken readily. + +"Whenever you please. I am generally at home by eight o'clock." + +He gave his new address--Mrs. Jones's. At which the crafty detective +expressed surprise, inwardly knowing the very day and hour when Mr. +Brown had moved in. + +"There! Do you live there? The Joneses and I used to be old +acquaintances; knew 'em well when they were at Helstonleigh. Knew +Dicky must be making a mess of it long before the smash came. You'll +see me then, Mr. Brown, one of these first evenings." + +"Don't be in a hurry, Butterby," spoke Roland, who had been amusing +himself by trying how far he could tilt his stool backwards without +capsizing, while he listened. "It's not old Galloway, it's Arthur +Channing." + +"Is there anything so remarkable in Arthur Channing's coming to +London? questioned Butterby. + +"To me there is. I tell you it is a red-letter day in my life, and I +have not had many such since I sailed from Port Natal. If I were not +in this confounded old office, with one master in the next room and +another there"--flinging a ball of paper at the manager--"I should +sing and dance and leap my joy off. Three copies have I begun to take +of a musty old will, and spoilt 'em all. Brown says I'm out of my +senses; ask him." + +"You never were famous for _not_ spoiling copies--or for particular +industry, either, you know, Mr. Yorke." + +The rejoinder rather nettled Roland. "I'd rather be famous for nothing +than for what _you_ are famed for in Helstonleigh, Butterby--taking up +the wrong man. It was not your fault that Arthur Channing didn't get +transported." + +"Nor yours," quietly retorted Mr. Butterby. + +"There! Go on. Bring it all out. If you've come to do it, do it, +Butterby. I told you to, the other night. And when Arthur Channing is +in London, you put up a prayer every morning not to meet him at +Charing Cross. The sight of him couldn't be pleasant to your mind, and +passers-by might see your brow redden: which for a bold, fear-nothing +police-detect----" + +"Is Mr. Bede Greatorex in?" + +The interrupting questioner was the Reverend Henry William Ollivera. +As he entered, the first man his eyes fell on was Butterby. It was a +mutual recognition: and they had not met since that evening in +Butterby's rooms on the occasion of the clergyman's visit to +Helstonleigh. + +Before a minute had well elapsed, as it seemed to the two spectators, +they were deep in that calamity of the past, recalling some of its +details, lamenting the non-success that had attended the endeavour to +trace it out. It did not much interest Roland, and his mind also was +filled to the brim with matter more agreeable. Apparently it did not +interest Brown the manager, for he kept his head bent on his work. In +the midst of it Bede Greatorex came in. + +"I tell you, Mr. Officer, my faith has never wavered, or my opinion +changed," the clergyman was saying with emotion, scarcely interrupting +himself to nod a salutation to Bede. "My brother did not commit +suicide. He was barbarously murdered; as every instinct warned me at +the time, and warns me still. The waiting seems long; the time rolls +by, day after day, year after year: weariness has to be subdued, +patience cherished; but, that the hour of elucidation will come, is as +sure as that you and I stand here, facing each other." + +"Mr. Greatorex told me that the Reverend Ollivera stood to his opinion +as strongly as he ever did," was the answering remark of the officer; +and it might be that there was a shade of compassion in his +tone--compassion for the mistaken folly of the man before him. + +"It has occurred to me at times, that if I were a member of the +detective police, endowed with all the acuteness for the discovery of +crime that their occupation and (we may suppose) natural aptitude for +it must give, I should have brought the matter to light long ago. Do +not think I reflect on your individual skill or care, sir; I speak +generally." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Butterby with complacent jocularity, "we all are apt to +picture to ourselves how much we'd do in other folks's skins." + +"It is strange that you have never been able to find traces of the man +whose name was afterwards mixed up in the affair, Godfrey Pitman." + +"There you are right, sir," readily avowed the officer. "I should +uncommonly like to come across that Godfrey Pitman on my own score: +setting aside anything he might have had to do with the late Mr. +Ollivera." + +The clergyman quickly took up the words. "Do you think he had anything +to do with his death?" + +"I don't go as far as that. It might have been. Anyway, as +circumstances stand at present, he seems the most likely to have had, +of all those who were known to have been in the house that evening." + +Happening to raise his eyes, Mr. Brown caught those of Mr. Bede +Greatorex. They were fixed on the speaker with a kind of eager, +earnest light. To many a man it might have told the tale--that he, +Bede Greatorex, had also doubts of Pitman. But then, Bede Greatorex +had expressed his belief in the suicide: expressed it still. One thing +was certain, had Bede chosen to confess it--that Godfrey Pitman was in +his mind far oftener than the world knew. + +"How is it that you have never found him?" continued Mr. Ollivera, to +Butterby. + +"I don't know. We are not usually at fault for a tithe of the time. +But the man, you see, was under false colours; his face and his name +were alike changed." + +"You think so?" + +"_Think_ so!" repeated Mr. Butterby with a second dose of compassion +for the parson's intellect. "That mass of hair on his face was hardly +likely to be real. As to the name, Pitman, it was about as much his as +it was mine. However, we have not found him, and there's no more to be +made of it than that. Mr. Bede Greatorex asked me about the man the +other day, whether I didn't think he might have gone at once out of +the country. It happens to be what I've thought all along." + +"I do not see what he could have against my brother, that he should +injure him," spoke the clergyman, gazing on vacancy, the dreamy look, +so often seen in them, taking possession of his eyes. "So far as can +be known, they were strangers." + +"Now, sir, don't you run your head again a stone wall. Nobody says he +did injure him; only that it's within the range of possibility he +could have done it. As to being strangers, he might have turned out to +be one of Counsellor Ollivera's dearest friends, once his disguises +were took off." + +Under the reproof, Mr. Ollivera drew in, and there was a short pause +of silence. He broke it almost immediately, to ask about the letter so +often mentioned. + +"Have you taken care of the paper?" + +"I have," said Mr. Butterby, rather emphatically. "And I mean to do +it, being permitted. This house wrote for it to be sent up, but I gave +Mr. Greatorex my reasons for wishing to keep it, and he charged me not +to let it go. If ever the time comes that that document may be of use, +Reverend Sir, it will be forthcoming." + +As the officer went out, for there was nothing more to remain for, Mr. +Ollivera began speaking to Bede in a low tone. This conversation +lasted but a minute or two, and was over, Bede retiring to the other +room. + +"Arthur Channing is coming to London, Mr. Ollivera." + +That the interruption came from nobody but Roland, need not be +affirmed. He was the only one in the office who presumed to interlard +its business with personal matters. The clergyman, who was going out, +turned his head. + +"You will have the opportunity of making his better acquaintance, Mr. +Ollivera. He is the noblest and grandest man the world ever saw. I +don't mean in looks--though he might compete for a prize on that +score--but for goodness and greatness. Hamish is at the top of the +tree, but Arthur caps him." + +Arthur Channing and his qualities did not bear interest for Mr. +Ollivera just then; he had no time to attend to them. Saying a +pleasant word in answer, he departed. Almost close upon that, Sir +Richard Yorke came in, and went into the private room. + +"Perhaps something has turned up about the cheque, and he's come to +tell it," cried idle Roland. "I say, Mr. Brown, did you ever hear how +they all keep up the ball about that Godfrey Pitman? Mrs. J. was +describing him to me the other night. She and Miss Alletha came +to an issue about his personal charms: the one saying his eyes were +blue, the other brown. Remembering the fable of the chameleon, I +decided they must have been green. I'd not like to joke about him, +though"--dropping his light tone--"if he really had a hand in John +Ollivera's death. What do you think?" + +"What I think is this, Mr. Yorke. As the person in question has +nothing to do with my work or yours, I am content to let him alone. I +should be exceedingly obliged to you to get that copy done for me." + +"I'll get it done," said ready Roland. "There are such interruptions +in this office, you see." + +He was working away at a steaming pace, when Sir Richard Yorke came +forth again, talking with Bede Greatorex. Roland slipped off his +stool, and brought his tall self in his uncle's path. + +"How are you, Sir Richard?" + +Sir Richard's little eyes went blinking out, and he condescended to +recognize Roland. + +"Oh, ah, to be sure. You are one of the clerks here! Hope you keep out +of debt, young man." + +"I try to," said Roland. "I get a pound a week, and live upon it. It +is not much for all things. One has to enjoy champagne and iced turtle +through the shop-windows." + +"Ah," said Sir Richard slowly, rubbing his hands together as if he were +washing them of undesirable connections, "this comes of being a rover. +You should do as Gerald does: work to keep up a position. I read an +able article in the _Snarler_ last night, which was pointed out to me +as Gerald Yorke's. He works to some purpose, he does." + +"If Gerald works he spends," was on the tip of his tongue. But he kept +it in: it was rare indeed that his good-nature failed him. "How is +Vincent?" he asked. + +Vincent was very well, Sir Richard vouchsafed to reply, and went out, +rubbing his hands still. + +So, with one interlude or another, Roland's morning was got through. +When released, he went flying in search of Annabel Channing, to impart +to her the great news contained in her brother's letter. + +She was not in the schoolroom. She was not in the dining-room. She +was not anywhere that Roland could see. He turned to descend the +stairs again more slowly than he had gone up, when Jane Greatorex came +running from the landing above. + +"Jane! Jane! I told you you were not to go down." + +The voice, calling after the child, would have been like Annabel's but +for a choking sound in it. He looked up and saw her: saw her face +inflamed with tears, heard the sobs of grief. It took Roland more +completely aback than any sight he had witnessed at Port Natal. The +face disappeared swiftly, and Miss Jane jumped into his arms in +triumph. + +"Jenny, what is it?" he asked in a kind of dumb whisper, as if motion +were suddenly struck out of him. "What is amiss with Miss Channing?" + +"It's through Aunt Bede. She puts herself into passions. I thought +she'd have hit her this morning. She told her she was not worth her +salt." + +Roland's face grew white with indignation. + +"Your Aunt Bede did!" + +"Oh, it's nothing new," said the child carelessly. "Aunt Bede goes on +at her nearly as much every day." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +MR. BROWN AT HOME. + + +That the managing clerk of Mr. Bede Greatorex was anything but a +steady man, his worst enemy could not have said. Mr. Brown's conduct +was irreproachable, his industry indefatigable. At the office to the +very minute of opening, quitting it always last at night, occupying +all his spare time at home in writing, except that necessary to be +consumed in sleep; and of habits so moderate, that even Roland Yorke, +with all his experiences of Port Natal deprivations, would have +marvelled at them, it might have been surmised that Mr. Brown had set +in to acquire a modest fortune. The writing he did at home was paid +for. It was so thoroughly to be depended on for correctness and swift +completion, that Greatorex and Greatorex were glad to give it to him, +and kept it a tacit secret from the other clerks. For Mr. Brown did +not care that it should be known in the office, lest he should lose +his standing. To carry copying home for remuneration, might have been +deemed _infra dig_. for the manager. + +For his breakfast he took a hard-boiled egg, or a sausage, or a +herring, as might be; tea, and bread. At dinner-time, the middle of +the day, his food did not differ from the above, a glass of beer being +substituted for the tea. He invariably called it his luncheon, saying +he dined out later; and hurried over it to get to his writing. In the +evening he had tea again, butter, bread, and one or other of the +afore-mentioned luxuries, with radishes or some light garden +production of that kind which might happen to be in season. Shrewd +Mrs. Jones, after a few days' experience of her lodger's habits, +came to the private conclusion, that the daily dinner out had place +only in fable. On Sundays he dined at home, openly, upon potatoes and +meat--generally a piece of steak. The maid found out that he blacked +his boots over-night, keeping his brushes and blacking-bottle locked +up; put on but one clean shirt a week, with false wristbands and +fronts the rest of the time. Given to arrive at rapid decisions, Mrs. +Jones set all this down, not to parsimony, but to needful economy, for +which she concluded there must be some good cause; and honoured his +self-denial. + +Police-officer Butterby, having scraped acquaintance (of course by +chance) with the landlord where Mr. Brown had previously lived, +gathered sundry details over a pipe, into his capacious ears. The +house, situated in an obscure quarter, was let out in rooms--chambers +it might be said, of a poor and humble grade, with a wide, dark, +common staircase of stone. One lodger did not interfere with another; +and all the landlord and his wife had to do was to take the weekly +money. Mr. Brown had been with them between three and four years, the +landlord said; was most steady and respectable. Gentleman Brown they +always called him. They did _his_ room, though most of the others did +their own. Never went to theatres, or smoking-places; never, in short, +spent a sixpence in waste, saved up what he could for his mother and +sick sister in the country, who were dependent on him. Had not the +least idea why he left; might have knocked him (the landlord) down +with a feather when Gentleman Brown tapped at his door one evening +late, saying business was calling him away on the morrow or next day, +and put down a full week's rent in lieu of notice; was the best and +most regular man that ever lodged in a decent house; should be right +down glad to have him back again. + +A good character, certainly; as Mr. Butterby could but mentally +acknowledge; steady, self-denying, working always to support a mother +and sick sister! He had no cause to dispute it; having come on a +fishing expedition rather than a suspicious one. + +Mr. Brown sat working tonight in his room at Mrs. Jones's, the evening +of the day mentioned in the last chapter: a shaded lamp was at his +elbow; his spectacles, which he always took off in writing, lay on the +table beside him. The room was of fair size for its situation; a +folding screen standing cornerwise concealed the small bed. A high +bureau stood opposite the fireplace, near it a dwarf-cupboard of +mahogany with a flat top, which served for a side-table. Mr. Brown had +drawn the larger table to the window, that he might catch the last +light of the summer's evening. He sat sideways; the right hand cuff of +his worn coat turned up. Out of doors he appeared as a gentleman; +indoors he was economically careful in dress, as in other things. + +A light tap at the door; followed by the entrance of Miss Rye. He rose +at once, and turned down the coat-cuff. She came to bring a letter +that the postman had just left. Never, unless when forced to it by the +very rare absence of the maid, did Miss Rye make her appearance in his +room. The servant was out this evening; and Mrs. Jones had handed her +the letter with a decisive command that might not be disregarded. +"Take it in, Alletha." + +She put the letter on the table, and was turning out without a word. +Mr. Brown went to the door, and held it close while he spoke, that the +sound of voices might not be heard outside. + +"What is the reason that you shun me, Miss Rye? Is it well? Is it +kind?" + +She suddenly lifted her hand to her bosom, as if a spasm took her, and +the little colour that was in her face faded out of it. + +"It is well. As to kind--you know all that is over." + +"I do not know it. I neither admit it, nor its necessity. Civility at +least might remain. What has been my motive, do you suppose, in coming +here, but to live under the same roof that shelters you? Not to renew +the past, as it once existed between us; I do not ask or wish it; but +to see you now and then, to exchange an unemotional, calm word with +you once in a way." + +"I cannot stay. Please to let me pass, sir!" + +"The old place, where I lodged so long, suited me, for it was private; +and I need privacy, as you know," he continued, paying no attention to +her request. "It was also reasonable enough to satisfy even me. Here I +pay nearly double; here I am more liable to be seen by those who might +do me harm. But I have braved it all for you. Perhaps the former +friendship--I do not wish to offend even by a name, you see, Miss +Rye--was a terrible mistake for you, but I at least have been true to +it." + +"The best and kindest thing you can do for me, sir, is to go back to +your late lodgings." + +"I shall stay in these. You told me, in the only interview I have held +with you since I came here, that I was a man of crime. I admit it. But +criminals have affections as well as other people. You are _cruel_ to +me, Alletha Rye." + +"It is you who are cruel," she returned, losing in emotion the +matter-of-fact reserve, as between waitress and lodger, she had been +studying to maintain. "You must know the pain your presence brings me. +Mrs. Jones has invited you to dine with her on Sunday next, I hear; +let me implore of you not to come in." + +"Off a piece of boiled beef," he rejoined in a plain, curt tone, as if +her manner and words were hardening him. "The offer is too good a one +to be refused." + +"Then I shall absent myself from table." + +"Don't drive me quite wild, Alletha Rye. You have me in your power: +the only one in London who has--so far as I hope and believe. I'd +almost as soon you went and gave me in charge." + +"Who is cruel now?" she breathed. "You know that you can trust me; you +know that I would rather forfeit my own life than put yours in +jeopardy: but I take shame to myself in saying it. It is just this," +she added, struggling with her agitation, "you are safe with me, but +you are not welcome." + +"I told you somewhat of my secrets in our last interview: I would have +told you more, but you would not listen--why I am living as I do, +trying to atone for the miserable sins of the past----" + +"Atone!" + +"Yes, it is well to catch me up. One of them, at least, never can be +atoned for. It lies heavier on my mind than it does on yours. If----" + +The sharp voice of Mrs. Jones, from above stairs, demanding what was +the matter with Alletha's ears, that they did not hear the door-bell, +put a stop to the interview. A hectic spot shone on her cheeks as she +hastened to answer it. + +The red glow had given place to a ghastly whiteness when she came in +again. Mr. Brown had already settled to his writing and turned back +his cuff. She closed the door of her own accord, and went up to him; +he stood gazing in surprise at her face. Its every lineament expressed +terror. The lips were drawn and cold; the eyes wild. However bad might +have been the contamination of his touch, he could not help taking her +trembling hands. She suffered it, entwining her lingering fingers +within his. + +"What has happened?" he asked in a whisper. + +"That man has come; Butterby, the detective officer from Helstonleigh. +He says he must see Mr. Brown--you. Heaven have mercy on us! Has the +blow fallen at last?" + +"There's nothing to fear. I expected a call from him. He only knows me +as Mr. Brown, manager to Greatorex and Greatorex. Let him come in." + +"I have shut him up in Mrs. Jones's parlour." + +"You must go and send him to me. I am but your lodger to him, you +know. Get a little colour into your face first." + +A minute or two and Mr. Butterby was introduced, amicably telling Miss +Rye, that, to judge by appearances, London did not appear to agree +with her. Mr. Brown, composedly writing, put down his pen in the +middle of a word, and rose to receive him. + +It was a chatty interview. The great man was on his agreeable manners, +and talked of many things. He made some fatherly enquiries after the +welfare of Mr. Hurst; observing that some of them country blades liked +their fling when in London, but he fancied young Hurst was tolerably +steady. Mr. Brown quietly said he had no reason to suppose him +otherwise. + +"You have been from thirteen to fourteen years with the Greatorexes, I +think," remarked the detective. + +Mr. Brown laughed. "From three to four." + +"Oh, I made a mistake. And before you came to them?" + +"With a solicitor, now deceased. Mr. Greatorex can tell you anything +of him you wish to know. He had me direct from him." + +"Me wish to know? Not a bit. Who on earth is it walking about +overhead? His boots have been on the go ever since I came in." + +"It must be Mr. Ollivera. He does walk in his rooms sometimes." + +"I should say his mind was restless. Thinking always of his brother, +they say. It was a curious case, that, take it for all in all. Ever +heard the particulars, Mr. Brown?" + +"Yes, Mr. Greatorex once related them to me. The young men in the +office get speaking of it." + +"Ah, they had all something to do with Counsellor Myers, so to say. +Jenner was the clerk in chambers. Hurst's father was the surgeon +called in at the death; Yorke was in Port Natal at the time, but his +folks knew him. Talkative young fellows, all the lot; like gossip, +I'll be bound, better than work. I'll answer that one of 'em does--Mr. +Roland Yorke." + +A smile crossed the manager's face at thought of Roland's work. "When +I hear them begin to speak of the late Mr. Ollivera's death, I stop it +at once," he remarked. "Jenner is very much given to it, never +considering whose office he is in. The name of a man who has committed +self-destruction, cannot be pleasant to his relations." + +"As to self-destruction," spoke Mr. Butterby, with a nod, "I don't say +it was that in Ollivera's case. I don't say it was not. There's only +two people have held out against it; and they've been obstinate enough +in the cause for two thousand. Parson Ollivera, and the young woman in +this house, Alletha Rye." + +"On the other hand," observed the clerk, "some are as positive that he +did commit it. Mrs. Jones for one, Mr. Bede Greatorex for another. +They possess the same knowledge of the details that the other two do, +and are certainly as able of conclusion." + +Jonas Butterby opened his mouth, as if to let in a whiff of air to his +teeth, for he closed it again without speaking. In the heat of +argument his usual cautious reticence had for once nearly failed him, +and he all but betrayed his private opinion--that Bede Greatorex had +grown to suspect Godfrey Pitman. + +"Who told you that Bede Greatorex holds to that view, Mr. Brown?" + +"It is well known he does. I have heard him say so myself." + +"He _did_, and no mistake," nodded the shrewd detective, who, upon +reflection, saw no reason why he should not speak out. "He made as +sure that it was suicide, at the time, as you are that that's a inkpot +afore you. But if he has not drawed round a bit to the contrary +opinion, my name's not Jonas Butterby. Bede Greatorex, in his innard +breast, has picked up doubts of the missing man, that worthy Pitman." + +Mr. Brown got up to do something to the window-blind, and the peculiar +look that crossed his face--not a smile, not a spasm of pain, not a +sharp contraction of fear, but something of all three--was thereby +hidden from his visitor. He was calm enough when he came back again. + +"Did Mr. Bede Greatorex tell you so?" + +"Not he. He let a word drop or two, and I could see at once the man +was on his mind. But that's not our business, Mr. Brown, neither must +it be made so, you understand. What I want to talk about, is the +cheque affair. Let's go over the particulars quietly together." + +Not so very quietly to begin with. A swinging-open of the street door +as if the house itself were being pushed back; a stamping of feet in +the passage; a shouting out to everybody--Mrs. J., Miss Rye, the +servant Betsey--to bring him hot water, announced the arrival at home +of Mr. Roland Yorke. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +A FOUNTAIN SHIVERED. + + +The day is not yet over. It had been a busy one at the house of +Greatorex and Greatorex. What with business, what with inward +vexation, of one or two kinds, Mr. Greatorex felt cross and weary as +the evening drew on. + +There had been some unnecessary delay in the prosecution of a cause +being tried at Westminster, for which Bede was in fault. A large bill +for fripperies had been presented to the office that day, and by +mistake to Mr. Greatorex instead of to Mrs. Bede's husband. The +capricious treatment being dealt out to Miss Channing had been spoken +of by Jane to her grandpapa; and preparations for another enormous +reception for that night were in active progress. All these matters, +as well as others, were trying the usually placid temper of Mr. +Greatorex. + +He did not appear at the dinner-table that evening, but had a chop +taken to his private sitting-room. Calling for his son Bede, he found +he was not forthcoming. Bede, Mr. Greatorex was told, had gone to +London Bridge to meet a steamer from France, by which his wife's +sister was expected. Jane Greatorex ran in to her grandpapa, and +asked, spoilt child that she was, if he would not invite her and Miss +Channing to drink tea with him: Mrs. Bede not having bidden them to +the soirée. Yes, Mr. Greatorex said; they should spend the evening in +his room. Closed in there quietly and snugly, they heard only as from +a distance the turmoil of the large gathering above, and Mr. Greatorex +partially forgot his cares. + +Mrs. Bede Greatorex's rooms were lighted up, shutting out the remains +of daylight, when Roland Yorke entered them. For it was to get himself +up for this soirée that Roland had gone home in a commotion, calling +for half the people in the house to wait on him. The company was +large, elbowing each other as usual, and fighting for space on the +staircase and landing with the beauteous plants that lined the walls. +Whatever might be Mrs. Bede's short-comings in some of the duties of +life, she never failed in one--that of gathering a vast crowd at her +bidding. This evening was to be great in music; and some of the first +singers and performers of the day had been secured to delight the +company; at what cost, was known only to Bede's pocket. + +Roland's chief motive in coming to it--for he did not always attend +when invited--was to get an interview with Miss Channing. The vision +of her tearful face, seen in the morning, the revelation contained in +the careless words of Jane Greatorex had been making a hot place in +his breast ever since. Roland wanted to know what it meant, and why +she put up with it. His eyes went roaming into every corner in search +of Annabel; but he could not see her. + +"Ill-conditioned old she-stork!" ejaculated Roland, apostrophising the +unconscious Mrs. Bede Greatorex. "She has gone and kept her out of the +way tonight." + +In consequence of this failure in his expectations, Roland had leisure +to concentrate his attention on the general company; and he did it in +a slightly ungracious mood; his blood was boiling up with the awful +injustice (imaginary rather than real) dealt out to the governess. + +"And all because that nasty conceited little pig, Jane Greatorex, must +get an education." + +"What's that, Roland?" + +Roland, in his indignation, had spoken so as to be overheard. He +turned to see the bright face of Hamish Channing, who had entered the +room with his wife on his arm. + +"You here, Hamish! Well, I never!" + +"I have come out of my shell for once," said Hamish. "One cannot be a +hermit always, when one has an exacting wife. Mine threatened me with +unheard-of penalties if I didn't bring her tonight." + +"Hamish!" exclaimed Mrs. Channing. "He does nothing but talk against +me, Roland. It is good for him to come out sometimes. + +"I say, I can't see Annabel," cried Roland, in a most resentful tone, +as he, still hoping against hope, cast his eyes in search of her over +people's heads. "It's a thundering shame she is a prisoner upstairs +tonight, I suppose, taking care of Jane Greatorex." + +"But that's no reason why you should call the little lady names," +laughed Hamish. + +"I called her a little pig," avowed Roland. "I should like to call +somebody else a great pig; to her face too; only she might turn me out +for my bad manners. If there is one thing I hold in contempt more than +another, Hamish, it is a Tyrant." + +"Does _that_ apply to Miss Annabel Channing?" + +"Bad manners to _you_ then, Hamish, for speaking such a word!" burst +forth Roland. "Annabel a tyrant! You'll tell me I'm a Mormon next! +She's the sweetest-tempered girl in the world; she's meek and gentle +and friendless here, and so that woman puts upon her. You used to snub +her at home when she was a child; _they_ snub her here: but there's +not one of the lot of you fit to tie her shoe. There." + +Roland backed against the wall in dudgeon, and stood there, pulling at +his whiskers. Hamish enjoyed these moods of Roland's beyond +everything; they were so genuine. + +"And if I were getting on as my father's son ought to be, with a +decent home, and a few hundreds to keep it up, it's not long she +should be left to the mercy of any of you, I can tell you that, Mr. +Channing." + +Hamish Channing's laugh was interrupted by Mrs. Bede Greatorex--"that +woman" as Roland had just disrespectfully called her. Mr. and Mrs. +Channing had been slowly threading their way to her, a difficult +matter from the impeding crowd. She welcomed them with both hands. +Hamish, a favourite of hers, was the courtly, sunny Hamish as of yore; +making the chief attraction of whatever society he might happen to be +in. + +"I am very glad to see you; but I wonder you like to show your face to +me," said Mrs. Bede. + +"What is my offence?" enquired Hamish. + +"As if you need ask! I don't think you've been to one of my gatherings +for three months. If it were not for your wife. I'd leave off sending +you cards, sir." + +"It was my wife's doings to come this evening; she dragged me out," +answered saucy Hamish. "You've no idea how she pats upon a fellow, +Mrs. Greatorex." + +Ellen laughed. "The real truth is, Mrs. Greatorex, that he was a +little less pressed for work than usual, and came of his own accord." + +"That horrid work!" spoke Mrs. Bede. "You are a slave to it." + +"Wait until my fortune's made," said Hamish. + +"That will be when your book's out!" + +"Oh yes, of course." + +The answer was given banteringly. But a slight hectic came into his +face, his voice unconsciously took a deeper tone. Heaven alone knew +what that anticipated book already was to his spirit. + +"When will it be finished?" + +"It is finished." + +"How glad you must be!" concluded Mrs. Bede. + +The evening went on. Roland kept his place against the wall, looking +as if everybody were his natural enemy. On the whole, Roland did not +like soirées; there was no room for his elbows; and the company never +seemed to be in their natural manners; rather on artificial stilts. +Having come out to this one for the specific purpose of meeting +Annabel, Roland could but regard the disappointment in the light of a +personal wrong, and resent it accordingly. + +In the midst of a grand, tremendous cavatina, loud enough to split the +ceiling, while the room was preparing itself to applaud, and Roland +was thinking it might have been more agreeable to ears if given out of +doors, say on the quai at Durban, he happened to raise his head, and +saw Gerald opposite. Their eyes met. Roland nodded, but Gerald gave no +response. Gerald happened to be standing next to Hamish Channing. + +And the two were attracting some attention, for they were known by +many present to be rising stars in the literary world. Perhaps Hamish +was also gaining notice by his personal attributes; it was not often +so entirely good-looking a man was seen in the polite society of +soirées and drums. Side by side they stood, the aspiring candidates +for literary honours, soon to be enrolled amidst the men who have +written Books. Which of them--that is, which work--would be the most +successful? That remained to be learnt. Hamish Channing had the +advantage (and a very great one) in looks; anybody might see that: +Hamish had the advantage in scholarship; and he had the advantage, +though perhaps the world could not see it yet, of genius. Hamish +Channing's education had been also sound and comprehensive: he was a +College man. Gerald was not. Mr. Channing the elder had been +straitened for means, as the public has heard of, but he had contrived +to send his eldest son to Cambridge, A wonderful outward difference +was there in the two men, as they stood side by side: would there be +as much contrast in their books? + +Gerald was looking fierce. The sight of Hamish Channing brought to his +mind the adverse opinion pronounced on his manuscript. His resentment +had grown more bitter; his determination, to be revenged, into a firm +and fixed resolve, He could not completely cut Hamish, as it was his +pleasure to cut his brother Roland, but he was haughty and distant. +Hamish, of genial temper himself, and his attention distracted by the +large assembly, observed it not. + +The crashing came to an end, the applause also, and in the general +move that succeeded, Roland got away. Seeing a vacant sofa in a +comparatively deserted room, he took possession of one end of it. A +fashionable young woman seated herself at the other end and took a +survey of him. + +"I am sure you are one of the Yorkes of Helstonleigh! Is it Roland?" + +Roland turned to the speaker: and saw a general resemblance (in the +chignon and shoulder-blades) to Mrs. Bede Greatorex. + +"Yes, I am Roland," he answered, staring. + +"Don't you remember me?--Clare Joliffe?" + +"Good gracious!" cried Roland, seizing her hand and shaking it nearly +off. Clare Joliffe had never been a particular favourite of his; but, +regarded in the light of a home face, she was agreeably welcome. +"Whatever brings you here, Miss Joliffe?" + +"I am come over on a visit," said the young lady. "Louisa has invited +me for the first time since her marriage. I only got here at seven +o'clock tonight; we had a rough passage and the boat was late." + +"Over from where? What boat?" + +"Boulogne." + +"Have you been staying there?" + +"We are living there. We have left Helstonleigh--oh, ever so long ago. +Mamma got tired of it, and so did I and Mary." + +Roland's ill-humour disappeared with the old reminiscences, for they +plunged into histories past and present. Home days and home people, +mixed with slight anecdotes of Port Natal life. Mrs. Joliffe had +quitted Helstonleigh very shortly after that occurrence that had so +startled the town--the death, of John Ollivera. It was perhaps +natural, perhaps only a curious accident, that the sad fact should be +reverted to between them now as they talked: we all know how one +subject leads to another. Clare Joliffe grew confidential about that +and other things. One bond she and Roland seemed to have between them +this night--a grievance against Mrs. Bede Greatorex. Roland's +consisted in that lady's unkind treatment (real or fancied) of Miss +Channing, the notion of which he had but picked up that selfsame day. +Clare Joliffe's resentment appeared to be more general, and of longer +standing. + +"It's such an unkind thing of her, Roland--I may call you Roland, I +suppose?" + +"Call me Ro if you like," said easy Roland. + +"Here's Louisa in this nice position, servants, and carriages, and +company about her, no children, living like a queen; and never once +has she invited me or Mary inside her doors. It's a great shame. She +should hear what mamma thinks of it. I don't suppose she'd have asked +me now, only she could not well avoid it, as I am passing through +London to visit some friends in the country. Mamma wrote to ask her to +give me a night's lodging, and then she wrote back, inviting me to +stay a week or two." + +"Why should she not have had you before?" + +"Oh, I don't suppose there has been any reason, except that she has +not thought of it. Louisa was always made up of self. We never fancied +she'd marry Bede Greatorex." + +"Why not?" + +"At least, what we thought was, that Bede would not marry her. He must +have cared for her very much, or he would not, after the affair about +John Ollivera." + +"What had that to do with it?" questioned Roland, opening his +eyes--for he supposed the young lady was alluding to the barrister's +death. + +"She engaged herself to both of them." + +"Who did?" + +"Louisa." + +"Did she!" + +Clare Joliffe nodded. "We never quite understood how it was. She was +up here on a visit for ever so long, weeks and weeks; it was in the +time of Mrs. Greatorex; and if she did not promise herself to Bede, +there was at least a good deal of flirtation going on between them. We +got to know that after Louisa returned home. The next year, when John +Ollivera was at Helstonleigh, she had a flirtation with him. I know +she used to write to both of them. Anyway, at the time of his last +visit, when the death occurred, she had managed to engage herself to +the two." + +"I've heard of two wives, but I never heard of two engagements going +on together," observed Roland. "Which of the fellows did she like +best?" + +"I think she _liked_ John Ollivera. But Bede had a good income ready +made to his hand, and money went for a great deal with Louisa. She +could not marry both of them, that was certain; and how she would have +got out of the dilemma but for poor John Ollivera's death, it is +impossible to imagine. I never shall forget her look of fright the +night Bede Greatorex came in unexpectedly. We had a few friends with +us; mamma had invited Mr. Ollivera, and the tea waited for him. There +was a ring at the bell, and then the room-door opened for somebody to +be shown in. 'Here's your counsellor,' I whispered to Louisa. Instead +of him, the servant announced Mr. Bede Greatorex; Louisa's face turned +ghastly." + +"I don't understand," said Roland, rather at sea. "When was it?" + +"It was the night that John Ollivera came by his death. He was in +Helstonleigh for the assizes, you know; he was to have pleaded the +next day in a cause mamma was interested in. He said he would come in +to tea if he were able; and when Bede Greatorex appeared we were all +surprised, not knowing that he was at Helstonleigh. We still expected +Mr. Ollivera, and Louisa kept casting frightened glances to the door +every time it opened. I know she felt at her wit's end; for of course +with both her lovers on the scene, a crisis was inevitable, and her +deceit would have to come out. Bede Greatorex was whispering to her at +times throughout the evening; there seemed to be some trouble between +them. Mr. Ollivera did not come--Bede told us he had left him busy, +and complaining of a headache. I thought Bede seemed very angry with +Louisa; and as soon as he left, she bolted herself in her chamber, and +we did not see her again that night. The next morning she sent word +down she was ill, and stayed in bed. Mary said she knew what it was +that ailed her--worry; but I thought she only wished to avoid being +downstairs if the two called. We were at breakfast when Hurst, the +surgeon; came in--he was attending mamma at the time--and brought the +dreadful news to us, that Mr. Ollivera had been found dead. I carried +the tidings up to Louisa, and told her that she must have gone out and +killed him. Nothing else could have extricated her so completely from +the dilemma." + +"But--you don't mean that she--that she went out and killed him?" +cried Roland in puzzled wonder. "Could she have got out without being +seen?" + +"Of course I don't mean it; I said it to her in joke. Why, Roland, you +must be stupid to ask such a thing." + +"To be sure I must," answered Roland, in contrition. "It's all through +my having been at Port Natal." + +The last word was drowned in a shiver of glass. Both of them turned +hastily. Mr. Bede Greatorex, in taking his elbow from the ormolu +cabinet behind the sofa, had accidentally knocked down a beautiful +miniature fountain of Bohemian glass, which had been throwing up its +choice perfume. + +"He certainly heard me," breathed Clare Joliffe, excessively +discomfited. "I never knew he was there." + +The breakage caused some commotion, and must have annoyed Mr. Bede +Greatorex. He rang the bell loudly for a servant, and those who caught +a view of his face, saw that it had a white stillness on it, painful +as death. + +Roland made his escape. The evening, so far as he was concerned, +seemed a failure, and he thought he would leave the rooms without +further ceremony. Leaping down the staircase a flight at a time, he +met Jane Greatorex ascending attended by her coloured maid. + +"Halloa! what brings you sitting up so late as this?" cried free +Roland. + +"We've been spending the evening with grandpapa in his room," answered +Jane. "He gave us some cakes and jam, and Miss Channing made the tea. +I've got to go to bed now." + +"Where's Miss Channing?" + +"She's there, in grandpapa's room, waiting to finish the curtain I +tore." + +Away went Roland, casting thought to the winds in the prospect of +seeing Annabel at last, and burst into Mr. Greatorex's room, after +giving a smart knock at the door. The wonder was that he knocked at +all. Annabel was alone mending the crimson silk curtain of the lower +bookcase. Jane, dashing it open to look after some book, had torn the +curtain woefully; so Miss Channing took it from its place and set to +work to repair it. To be thus unceremoniously invaded brought a flush +to her cheeks--perhaps she could not have told why--and Roland saw +that her eyes were red and heavy. Sitting at the table, near the lamp, +she went on quietly with her work. + +"Where's old Greatorex?" demanded Roland. "I thought he was here." + +"Mr. Greatorex is gone into his consulting-room. Some one came to see +him." + +Down sat Roland on the other side of the table; and, as a preliminary +to proceedings, pulled his whiskers and took a long stare right into +the young lady's face. + +"I say, Annabel, why are you not at the party tonight?" + +"I don't always care to go in. Mrs. Greatorex gives so many parties." + +"Well, I came to it only for one purpose; and that was to see you. I +should not have bothered to dress myself for anybody else. Hamish and +his wife are there." + +"I did not feel very well this evening." + +"No, I don't suppose you did. And, besides that, I expect the fact is, +that Mrs. Bede never invited you. She is a beauty!" + +"Roland!" + +"You may go on at me till tomorrow if you like, Annabel; I shall say +it. She's a tyrannical, mean-spirited, heartless image; and I shall be +telling her so some day to her face. You should hear what Clare +Joliffe says of her selfishness." + +In the midst of her vexation, Miss Channing could not forbear a smile. +Roland was never more serious in his life. + +"And I want to know what it was she had been doing today, to put you +into that grief." + +Annabel coloured almost to tears. It was a home question, and brought +back all the troubles connected with her position in the house. +Whether Mrs. Bede Greatorex had taken a dislike to her, or whether +that lady's temper was alone in fault, Miss Channing did not know; but +a great deal of petty annoyance was heaped upon her almost daily, +sometimes bordering upon cruel insult. Roland, however, was much +mistaken if he thought she would admit anything of the kind to him. + +"I see what it is; you are too generous to say it's true," he +observed, after vainly endeavouring to get some satisfactory answer. +"You are too good for this house, Annabel, and I only wish I could +take you out of it." + +"Oh, thank you," she said with a quiet smile, not in the least +suspecting his meaning. + +"And into one of my own." + +"One of your own?" + +The remark was elicited from her in simple surprise. She looked up at +Roland. + +"Yes, one of mine. But for bringing you to the fate of Gerald's wife, +I'd marry you tomorrow, Annabel." + +In spite of the matter-of-fact, earnest tone in which he spoke, almost +as if he were asserting he'd take a voyage in the clouds but for its +impossibility, Annabel was covered with confusion. + +"Some one else's consent would have to be obtained to that bargain," +she said in a hesitating, lame kind of way, as she bent her head low +over a tangle in the red sewing-silk. + +"Some one else's consent! You don't mean to say you'd not marry me, +Annabel!" + +"I don't say I would." + +Roland looked fierce. "You couldn't perjure yourself; you _couldn't_, +Annabel; don't you know what you always said--that you'd be my wife?" + +"But I was only a senseless little child then." + +"I don't care if you were. I mean it to be carried out. Why, Annabel, +who else in the world, but you, do you suppose I'd marry?" + +Annabel did not say. Her fingers were working quickly to finish the +curtain. + +"I can tell you I am looking forward to it if you are not. I vowed +to Hamish tonight that you should not stay here another day if I +could--good evening, sir." + +Mr. Greatorex, returning to the room, looked a little surprised to see +a gentleman in it, who rose to receive him. Recognising Roland, he +greeted him civilly. + +"Is it you, Mr. Yorke? Do you want me?" + +"No, sir. Coming down from the kick-up, I met Jenny, who said Miss +Channing was here; so I turned in to see her. She's as unhappy in this +house as she can be, Mr. Greatorex; folks have tempers, you know; and +in catching a glimpse of her face today, I saw it red with grief and +tears. Look at her eyes now, sir. So I came to say that if I could +help it by taking her out and marrying her, she should not be here +another day. I was saying it when you came in, Mr. Greatorex." + +To hear the single-minded young fellow avow this, standing there in +his earnest simplicity, in his great height, was something to laugh +at. But Mr. Greatorex detected the rare good-feeling. + +"I am afraid Miss Channing may think your declaration is premature, +Mr. Yorke. You are scarcely in circumstances to keep yourself, let +alone a wife." + +"That's just the misfortune of it," said candid Roland. "My pound a +week does for me, and that's all. But I thought I'd let her know it +was the power to serve her that was wanting, not the will. And now +that it's said, I've done with the matter, and will wish you good +night, Mr. Greatorex. Good night, Annabel. Hark at that squalling +upstairs! I wonder the cats don't set up a chorus!" + +And Mr. Yorke went out in commotion. + +"He does not mean anything, sir," said Annabel Channing rather +piteously to Mr. Greatorex. "I hope you will pardon him; he is just +like a boy." + +"I am sure he does not mean any harm," was the lawyer's answer, +his lips parting with a smile. "Never were two so much alike in +good-hearted simplicity as he and his Uncle Carrick. Don't let his +thoughtless words trouble you, child." + +Roland, clearing the streets at a few bounds, dashed home, into to +Mrs. Jones's parlour, a light through the half-open door showing him +that that lady was in it. It was past eleven: as a rule Mrs. Jones +liked to keep early hours; but she appeared to have no intention of +going to bed yet. + +"Are you working for a wager, Mrs. J.?" asked Roland, in allusion to +the work in her nimble fingers. + +"I am working not to waste my time, Mr. Yorke, while I sit up for +Alletha Rye. She is not in yet." + +"Out on the spree?" cried Roland. + +"She and sprees don't have much to do with each other," said Mrs. +Jones. "There's a little child ill a few doors higher up, and +Alletha's gone in to sit with her. But she ought to have been home by +eleven. And how have you enjoyed yourself, Mr. Yorke?" + +"I say, Mrs. J., don't you go talking about enjoyment," spoke Roland +resentfully. "It has been a miserable failure altogether. Not a soul +there; the men and women howling like mad; and one's elbows crushed in +the crowd. Catch me dressing for another!" + +Mrs. J. thought the answer slightly inconsistent. "If there was not a +soul there, Mr. Yorke, how could your elbows get crushed?" + +"There was not a soul I cared for. Plenty of idiots. I don't say +Hamish Channing and his wife are that, though. Clare Joliffe was +there. Do you remember her at Helstonleigh?" + +"Clare? Let me see--Clare was the second: next to Mrs. Bede Greatorex. +And very much like her." + +Roland nodded. "She and I were sitting on a sofa, nobody to be seen +within earshot, and she began talking of the night Mr. Ollivera died. +You should have heard her, Mrs. J.: she went on like anything at her +sister, calling her selfish and false and deceitful, and other good +names. All in a minute there was a crash of glass behind us, and we +turned to see Bede Greatorex standing there. _I_ had not spoken +treason against his wife, but I didn't like him to have seen me +listening to it. It was an awkward situation. If I had a wife, I +should not care to hear her abused." + +"But what caused the crash of glass?" asked practical Mrs. J. + +"Oh, Bede's elbow had touched a perfume fountain of crimson glass, and +sent it over," said Roland carelessly. "It was a beautiful thing, +costing I'm sure no end of money, and Mrs. Bede had filled it with +scent for the evening. She'll go in a tantrum over it when the company +departs. Were I Bede I should tell her it blew up of itself." + +"Is Miss Clare Joliffe staying there?" + +"Got there today by the boat. The Joliffes are living in France now. +She says it is the first time Mrs. Bede has invited any of them inside +the doors: it was the thought of that, you know, that caused her to go +on so. Not that I like Mrs. Bede much better than she does. She can be +a Tyrant when she likes, Mrs. J.!" + +"To her husband?" + +"Oh, I don't know anything about that. Bede's big enough to put her +down if she tries it on with him. She is one in the house." + +"Like a good many other mistresses," remarked Mrs. J. "I wish Alletha +would make haste." + +"She never asked Miss Channing and little Greatorex to her party +tonight," continued Roland. "Not that it was any loss for Miss +Channing, you know; only I went there thinking to see her. Old +Greatorex had them to spend the evening in his parlour. Had I been +Hamish I should just have said, 'Where's my sister that she is not +present?' Oh, yes, she _can_ be a Tyrant! And do you know, what with +one cross thing and another, I forgot to ask Hamish if he had heard +the news about Arthur. It went clean out of my mind." + +Mrs. Jones, rather particularly occupied with a knot in her work, made +no reply. Roland, thinking perhaps his revelations as to Mrs. Bede had +been sufficiently extensive, sat for some minutes in silence; his face +bent forward, his elbow on his knee, and pulling at his whiskers in +deep thought. + +"I say, Mrs. J., how much do you think two people could live upon?" he +burst forth. + +"That depends upon who they are, Mr. Yorke." + +"Well, I mean--I don't mind telling you in confidence--me and another. +A wife, for instance." + +Had Roland said Me and a Kangaroo, Mrs. Jones could not have looked at +him with more surprise--albeit not one to be surprised in general. + +"I'd like to take her from there, for she's shamefully tyrannized +over. We need not mention names, but you guess I dare say who's meant, +and you are not to go and repeat it to the parish. If I could get my +pay increased to three or four times what it is, by dint of doing +extra work and putting my shoulder to the wheel in earnest; and if +she could get a couple of nice morning pupils at about fifty pounds +apiece, that would make three hundred a year. Now don't you think, +Mrs. Jenkins, we might get along with that?" + +"Well--yes," answered Mrs. Jones, speaking with some hesitation, and +rather to satisfy the earnest, eager face waiting for her decision, +than in accordance with her true belief. "The worst of it is that +prospects rarely turn out as they are expected to." + +"Now what do you mean, Mrs. J.? Three hundred a-year is three hundred +a-year. Let us be on the safe side, if you like, and put it down at +two hundred: which would be allowing for my present pay being only +doubled. Do you mean to say two people could not live on two hundred +a-year? I know we could; she and I." + +"Two people might, when both are economically inclined. But then you +see, Mr. Yorke, one ought always to allow for interruptions." + +"What interruptions?" demanded Roland. + +"Sickness. Or pay of pupils falling off." + +"We are both as healthy as ever we can be," said Roland, heartily. "If +I had not been strong and sound as a young lion, should I have stood +all that knocking about at Port Natal? As to pay and pupils, we might +take care to make _them_ sure." + +"There might be things to increase expenses," persisted Mrs. Jones, +maintaining her ground as usual. "Children, for instance." + +Roland stared with all his eyes. "_Children!_" + +"It would be within the range of possibility, I suppose, Mr. Yorke. +Your brother Gerald has some." + +"Oh law!" cried Roland, his countenance falling. + +"And nobody knows what a trouble they are and how much they +cost--except those who have tried it. A regular flock of them may come +trooping down before you are well aware." + +The vista presented to Roland was one his sanguine thoughts had never +so much as glanced at. A flock of children had not appeared to him +less likely to arrive, than that he should set up a flock of parrots; +and he candidly avowed it. + +"But we shouldn't want any children, Mrs. J." + +Mrs. J. gave a rather derisive sniff. "I've known them that want the +fewest get bothered with the most." + +Roland had not another word to answer. He was pulling his whiskers in +much gloom when Miss Rye was heard to enter. Mrs. Jones began to roll +her work together, preparatory to retiring for the night. + +"Look here, Mrs. Jones. I'm uncommon fond of children--you should see +how I love that sweet Nelly Channing--I'd not mind if I had a score +about the place; but what becomes of the little monkeys when there's +no bread and cheese to feed them on?" + +"That's the precise difficulty, Mr. Yorke." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +GRAND REVIEWS. + +Gerald Yorke's book was out. An enterprising firm of publishers had +been found to undertake it, and they brought it forth in due course to +the public. Great reviews followed closely upon its advent, lauding +its merits and beauties to the skies. Three critiques appeared in one +week. The great morning paper gave one, as did the two chief weekly +reviewing journals. And each one in its turn sung or said that for +ages the public had not been so blest as in this most valuable work of +fiction. + +In his writing-room, the three glorious reviews before him, sat Hamish +Channing, his heart and face alike in a glow. Had the praises been +bestowed upon himself, he could scarcely have rejoiced more. How +Gerald must have altered the book, he thought: and he felt grieved and +vexed to have passed so uncompromising a judgment upon his friend's +capabilities as a writer of fiction, when the manuscript was submitted +to him. "It must have been that he wrote it too hastily, and has now +taken time and consideration to his aid," decided Hamish. + +Carrying the papers in his hand he sought his wife, and in the fulness +of his heart read out to her the most telling sentences. Bitter though +the resentment was, that Gerald was cherishing against Hamish +Channing, he could but have experienced gratification had he witnessed +the genuine satisfaction of both, the hearty emphasis which Hamish +gave to the laudations bestowed on the author. + +"How hard he must have worked at it, Ellen." + +"Yes; I did not think Gerald had the application in him." + +With his arm on the elbow of his chair, and his refined face a little +raised as it rested on his hand, Hamish took a few moments for +thought. The eyes seemed to be seeking for something in the evening +sky; the sweet light of hope pervaded unmistakably the whole bright +countenance. Hamish Channing was but gazing at the vision that had +become so entirely his; one that was rarely absent from him; that +seemed to be depicted in all its radiant colouring whenever he looked +out for it. Fame, reward, appreciation; all were stirring his spirit +within, in the vivid light of buoyant expectancy. + +"And, if Gerald's book has received this award of praise, what will +not mine obtain?" ran his thoughts. For Hamish knew that, try as +Gerald would, it was not in him to write as he himself could. + +He took his hat and went forth to congratulate Gerald, unable to be +silent under this great fame that had fallen on his early friend. +Being late in the day, he thought Gerald might be found at his wife's +lodgings, for he knew he had been there more than usual of late. + +True. Gerald sought the lodgings as a kind of refuge. His chambers had +become disagreeably hot, and it was only by dint of the utmost caution +on his own part, and diligence on his servant's, that he could venture +into them or out of them. The lodgings were less known, and Gerald +felt safer there. Things were going very cross with him just now; +money seemed to be wanted by his wife and his children and his +creditors, all in a hurry, not to speak of the greatest want, himself; +and there were moments when Gerald Yorke felt that he might have to +seek some far-off city of refuge, as Roland had done, and sail for a +Port Natal. + +There was no one in the sitting-room when Hamish Channing entered it. +The maid said Mr. Yorke had gone out; Mrs. Yorke was putting her +children to bed. On the table, side by side with the papers containing +the three great reviews, lay a copy of the work. Hamish took it up +eagerly, anxious to see the new and good writing that had superseded +the old. + +He could not find it. One or two bad passages, that he specially +remembered, caught his eye; they were there still, unaltered. Had +Gerald carelessly overlooked them? Hamish was turning over the pages +in some wonder, when Winny came in. + +Came in, cross, fractious, tearful. Lonely as Mrs. Gerald Yorke's life +had been in Gloucestershire, she had long wished herself back, for the +one in London was becoming too trying. Winny had none of the endurance +that some wives can show, and love and suffer on. + +She came tip to Hamish with outstretched hand. But that he and Ellen +proved the generous friends they did, she could not have borne things. +Many and many a day there would have been no dinner for the poor +little girls, no stop-gap for the petty creditors supplying the daily +wants, no comforts of any sort at home, save for the unobtrusive, +silently aiding hand of Hamish Channing. + +"What is the matter, Winny?" asked Hamish, in relation to the tears. +And he spoke very much as he would to a child. In fact, Mrs. Gerald +Yorke had mostly to be treated as one. + +"Gerald has been so cross; he boxed little Kitty's ears, and +nearly boxed mine," pleaded poor Winny, putting herself into a low +rocking-chair, near the window. "It is so unreasonable of him, you +know, Mr. Channing, to vent it upon us. It's just as if it were our +fault." + +"Vent what?" asked Hamish, taking a seat at the table, and turning to +face her. + +"All of it," said Winny, in her childish, fractious way. "His +shortness of money, and the many bothers he is in. I can't help it. I +would if I could, but if I can't, I can't, and Gerald knows I can't." + +"In bothers as usual?" spoke Hamish, in his gay way. + +"He is never out of them, Mr. Channing; you know he is not; and they +get worse and worse. Gerald has no certain income at all; and it seems +to me that what he earns by writing, whether it's for magazines or +whether it's for newspapers, is always drawn beforehand, for he never +has any money to bring home. Of course the tradespeople come and ask +for their money; of course the landlady expects to be paid her weekly +rent; and when they insist on seeing Gerald, or stop him when he goes +out, he comes back in such a passion you never saw. She made him +savage this evening, and he took and boxed Kitty." + +"She! Who?" + +"The landlady--Miss Cook." + +"Winny, I paid Miss Cook myself, last week." + +"Oh, but I didn't tell you there was more owing to her; I didn't like +to," answered helpless Winny. "There is; and she has begun to worry +always. She gets things in for us, and wants to be paid for them." + +"Of course she does," thought Hamish. "Where's Gerald?" he asked. + +"Gone out somewhere. You know that money you let me have to pay the +horrible bill I couldn't sleep for, and didn't dare to give to +Gerald," she continued, putting up her hands to her little distressed +face. "I've got something to tell you about it." + +Hamish was at a loss. The bills he and his wife had advanced money for +were getting numerous. Winny, rocking herself gently, saw he did not +recollect. + +"It was for the shoes and stockings for the children and the boots for +me; we had nothing to our feet. Ellen brought me the money last +Saturday--three pounds--though the bill was not quite that. Well, +Gerald saw the sovereigns lying in the dressing-table drawer--it was +so stupid of me to leave them there!--and he took them. First he asked +me where I'd got them from; I said I had scraped them up to pay for +the children's shoes. Upon that, he put them in his pocket, saying he +had bills far more pressing than children's shoe bills, and must take +them for his own use. O-o-o-o-o-oh!" concluded the young wife, with a +burst of her childish grief, "I am very miserable." + +"You should have told your husband the money belonged to Mrs. +Channing--and was given to you by her for a special purpose." + +"Good gracious!" cried Winny, astonishment arresting the tears in her +pretty eyes. "As if I would dare to tell him that! If Gerald thought +you or Ellen helped me, he would be in the worst passion of all. I'm +not sure but he'd beat me." + +"Why?" + +"He would think that I was running up a great debt on my own score for +him to pay back sometime. And he has such oceans of pride, besides. +You must never tell him, Mr. Channing." + +"How does he think the accounts get paid?" asked Hamish. + +"He does not think about it," she answered, eagerly. "So long as he is +not bothered, he _won't_ be bothered. He will never look at a single +bill, or hear me speak of one. As far as he knows, the people and Miss +Cook come and worry me for money regularly. But oh! Mr. Channing! if I +were to be worried to any degree, I should die. I should wish to die, +for I could not bear it. Ellen knows I could not." + +Yes; in a degree, Hamish and his wife both knew this. Winny Yorke was +quite unfitted to battle with the storms of the world; they could not +see her breasting them, and not help. A brother of hers--and Gerald +was aware of this--who had been overwhelmed with the like, proved how +ill he was fitted to bear, by putting a terrible end to them and all +else. + +"And so, that bill for the shoes and stockings was not paid, and they +came after it today, and abused Gerald--for I had said to them it +would be ready money," pursued Winny, rocking away. "Oh, he was so +angry! he forbid me to buy shoes; he said the children must go +barefoot until he was in a better position. If the man comes tomorrow, +and insists on seeing me, I shall have to run away. And Fredy's ill." + +The wind-up was rather unexpected, and given in a different tone. +Fredy was the eldest of the little girls, Kitty the second, Rosy the +third. + +"If she should be going to have the measles, the others will be sure +to catch it, and then what should I do?" went on Winny, piteously. +"There'd be a doctor to pay for and medicine to be got, and I don't +think druggists give credit to strangers. It may turn out to be only a +bad cold." + +"To be sure it may," said Hamish cheerily. "Hope for the best, Mrs. +Yorke. Ellen always does." + +Mrs. Yorke sighed. Ellen's husband was very different from hers. + +"Gerald is in luck; he will soon I think, be able to get over his +difficulties. Have you reed these reviews?" continued Hamish, laying +his hand upon the journals at his elbow. + +"Oh yes, I've read them," was the answer, given with slighting +discontent. + +"I never read anything finer--in the way of praise--than this review +in the _Snarler_," spoke Hamish. + +"He wrote that himself." + +"Wrote what?" + +"That review in the _Snarler_." + +"Who wrote it?" pursued Hamish, rather at sea. + +"Gerald did." + +"Nonsense, Winny. You must be mistaken." + +"I'm sure I'm not," said Winny. "He wrote it at this very table. He +was three hours writing it, and then he was nearly as long altering +it: taking out words and sentences and putting in stronger ones." + +Hamish, when his surprise was over, laughed slightly. It had a little +destroyed his romance. + +"And two friends of Gerald's wrote the other reviews," said Winny, +continuing her revelations. "Gerald has great influence with the +reviewing people; he says he can get any work made or marred." + +"Oh, can he?" quoth Hamish, with light good-nature. "At least, these +reviews will tell well with the public and sell the book. Why, Winny, +instead of being low-spirited, you have cause to be just the other +way. It is a great thing to have got this book so well out. It may +make Gerald's fortune." + +Winny sat bolt upright in the rocking-chair, and looked at Hamish, +with a puzzled, cross face. He supposed that she did not understand. + +"What I mean, Winny, is that this book may lead really to fortune in +the end. If Gerald once becomes known as a successful author--" + +"The bringing out of the book has caused him to be ten times more +worried than before," interrupted Whiny. "Of course it is known that +he has a book out, and the consequence is that everybody who has got +sixpence owing by either of us, is dunning him for money--just as if +the book had made his fortune! He cannot go to his chambers, unless he +shoots in like a cat; and he is getting afraid to come here. My +opinion is, that he'd have been better off without the book than with +it." + +This was not a particularly pleasant view of affairs; but Hamish was +far from subscribing to all Winny said. He answered with his cheering +smile, that was worth its weight in gold, and rose to leave. + +"Things are always darkest just before dawn, Mrs. Yorke. And I must +repeat my opinion--that this book will lay the foundation of Gerald's +fortune. He will soon get out of his embarrassments." + +"Well, I don't understand it, but I know he says the book has plunged +him into fresh debt," returned Winny, gloomily. "I think he has had to +pay an immense deal to get it out." + +Hamish was turning over the leaves of the book as he stood. Winny at +once offered to lend it him: there were two or three copies about the +house, she said. Accepting the offer, for he really wished to see the +good and great alterations Gerald must have made, Hamish was putting +the three volumes under his arm when the street door opened, and +Gerald came running up. + +"Well, old friend!" cried Hamish, heartily, as he shook Gerald's hand. +"I came to wish you joy." + +Winny disappeared. Never feeling altogether at ease in the presence of +her clever, stern, arbitrary husband, she was glad to get away from it +when she could. Hamish and Gerald stood at the window, talking +together in the fading light, their theme Gerald's book, the reviews, +and other matters connected with it. Hamish spoke the true sentiments +of his heart when he said how glad and proud he was, for Gerald's +sake. + +"I have been telling your wife that it is the first stepping-stone to +fortune. It must be a great success, Gerald." + +"Ah, I thought you were a little _out_ in the opinion you formed of +it," said Gerald loftily. + +"I am thankful it has proved so. You have taken pains to alter it, +Gerald." + +"Not much: _I_ thought it did very well as it was. And the result +proves I was right," added Gerald complacently. "Have you read the +reviews?" + +"I should think I have," said Hamish warmly. "They brought me here +tonight. Reviews such as those will take the public by storm." + +"Yes, they tell rather a different tale from the verdict passed by +you. _You_ assured me I should never succeed in fiction; had mistaken +my vocation; got no elements for it within me; might shut up shop. +What do the reviews say? Look at that one in the _Snarler_," continued +Gerald, snatching up that noted authority, and holding it to the +twilight, formed by the remnant of day and the light of the +street-lamps, while he read an extract from its pages aloud. + +"We do not know how to find terms of praise sufficiently high for this +marvellously beautiful book of fiction. The grateful public, now +running after its three volumes, cannot be supplied fast enough. From +the first page to the last, attention is rapturously enchained; one +cannot put the book down----" + +"And so on, and so on," continued Gerald, breaking off the laudatory +recital suddenly, and flinging the paper behind him again. "No good to +continue, as you've read it. Yes, that is praise from the _Snarler_. +Worth having, I take it," he concluded in unmistakable triumph over +his fellow-man and author, quite unconscious that poor simple Winny +had let the cat out of the bag. + +"If reviews ever sell a book, these must sell yours, Gerald." + +"I think so. We shall see whether your book gets such; it's finished, +I hear," spoke Gerald, leaning from the window to survey a man who had +just crossed the street. "One never can tell what luck a work will +have while it is in manuscript." + +"One can tell what it ought to have." + +"Ought! oughts don't go for much now-a-days; favour does though. The +devil take the fellow." + +This last genial wish applied to the man, who had made for the +house-door and was ringing its bell. Gerald grew just a little +troubled, and betrayed it. + +"Don't let these matters disturb your peace, Gerald," advised Hamish +in his kindest and most impressive manner. "You cannot fail to get on +now. Have the publishers paid you anything yet?" + +"Paid me!" retorted Gerald rather savagely, "they are asking for the +money I owe them. It was arranged that I should advance fifty pounds +towards bringing the book out. And I've not been able to give it them +yet." + +Gerald spoke truly. The confiding publishers, not knowing the true +state of Mr. Yorke's finances, but supposing there could be no danger +with a man in his position--living in the great world, of aristocratic +connections, getting his name up in journalism--had accepted in all +good faith his plausible excuses for the non-prepayment of the fifty +pounds, and brought out the book at their own cost. They were +reminding him of it now; and more than hinting that a bargain was a +bargain. + +"And how I am to stave them off, the deuce only knows," observed +Gerald. "I want to keep in with them if I can. The notion of my +finding fifty pounds!" + +"There must be proceeds from a book with such reviews as these," said +Hamish. "Let them take it out of their first returns." + +"Oh, ah! that's all very well; but I don't know," was the answer given +gloomily. + +"Well, good night, old friend, for I must be off; you have my best +wishes in every way. I am going to take home the book for a day; I +should like to look over it; Winny says you have other copies." + +"Take it if you like," growled Gerald, who heard the maid's step on +the stairs, and knew he was going to be appealed to. "Now then!" he +angrily saluted her, as she came in. "I've told you before you are not +to bring messages up to me after dusk. How dare you disobey?" + +"It's that gentleman that always _will_ see you, sir," spoke the +discomfited girl. + +"I am gone to bed," roared Gerald; "be off and say so." + +And Hamish Channing, running lightly downstairs, heard the bolt of the +room slipped, as the servant came out of it. That Gerald had a good +deal of this kind of worry, there was no doubt; but he did not go the +best way to work to prevent it. + +As soon as Hamish got home, he sat down to his writing-table, and set +himself to examine Gerald's book. Gradually, as he turned page after +page of the three volumes in rotation, a perplexed, dissatisfied look, +mixed with much disappointment, seated itself in his face. + +There had been no alterations made at all. All the objectionable +elements were there, just as they had been in the manuscript. The book +was, in fact, exactly what Hamish had found it--utterly worthless and +terribly fast. It had not a chance of ultimate success. Not one reader +in ten, beginning the book, would be able to call up patience to +finish it. And Hamish was grievously vexed for Gerald's sake; he could +have set on to bewail and bemoan aloud. + +Suddenly the reviews flashed over his mind; their glowing +descriptions, their subtle praise, their seductive, lavish promises. +In spite of himself, of his deep feeling, his real vexation, he burst +into a fit of laughter, prolonged until he had to hold his sides, at +the thought of how the very innocent and helpless public would be +taken in. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +ROLAND YORKE'S SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL. + + +The weeks went on. Roland Yorke was hard at work, carrying out his +resolve of "putting his shoulder to the wheel." Vague ideas of getting +into something good, by which a fortune might be made, floated through +his brain in rose-coloured clouds. What the something was to be he did +not exactly know; meanwhile, as a preliminary to it, he sought and +obtained copying from Greatorex and Greatorex, to be done in spare +hours at home. Of which fact Roland (unlike Mr. Brown) made no secret; +he talked of it to the whole office; and Mr. Brown supplied him +openly. + +It was an excessively hot evening, getting now towards dusk. Roland +had carried his work to Mrs. Jones's room, not so much because his own +parlour was rather close and stuffy, as that he might obtain slight +intervals of recreative gossip. He had it to himself, however, for +Mrs. Jones was absent on household cares. The window looked on a +backyard, in which the maid, who had come out, was hanging up a red +table-cover to dry, that had evidently had something spilled on it. Of +course Roland arrested his pen to watch the process. He was sitting in +his shirtsleeves, and had just complained aloud that it was hotter +than Africa. + +"Who did that?" he called out through the open window. "You?" + +"Mr. Ollivera, sir. He upset some ink; and mistress have been washing +the place out in layers of cold water. She don't think it'll show." + +"What d'ye call layers?" + +"Different lots, sir. About nineteen bowlfuls she swilled it through; +and me a emptying of 'em at the sink, and droring off fresh water +ready to her hand." + +The hanging-out and pulling the damaged part straight took a tolerably +long time; Roland, in the old seduction of any amusement being welcome +as an accompaniment to work, continued to look on and talk. Suddenly, +he remembered his copying, and the young lady for whose sake he had +undertaken the labour. + +"This is not sticking to it," he soliloquised. "And if I am to have +her, I must work for her. _Won't_ I work, that's all! I'll stick to it +like any brick! But this copying is poor stuff to get a fellow on. If +I could only slip into something better!" + +Considering that Mr. Roland Yorke's earnings the past week, what with +mistakes and other failures, had been one shilling and ninepence, and +the week previous to that fifteenpence, it certainly did not look as +though the copying would prove the high road to fortune. He began +casting about other projects in his mind, as he wrote. + +"If they'd give me a place under Government, it would be the very +thing. But they don't. Old Dick Yorke's as selfish as a camel, and +Carrick's hiding his head, goodness knows where. So I am thrown on my +own resources. Bless us all! when a fellow wants to get on in this +world, he can't." + +At this juncture Roland came to the end of his paper. As it was a good +opportunity for taking a little respite, he laid down his pen, and +exercised his thoughts. + +"There's those photographing places--lots of them springing up. You +can't turn a corner into a street but you come bang upon a fresh +establishment. They can't require a fellow to have any previous +knowledge, they can't. I wonder if any of them would take me on, and +give me a couple of guineas a-week, or so? Nothing to do there, but +talk to the visitors, and take their faces. I should make a good hand +at that. But, perhaps, _she'd_ not like it! She might object to marry +a man of that sort. What a difficulty it is to get into anything! I +must think of the other plan." + +The other plan meant some nice place under Government. To Roland that +always seemed a sure harbour of refuge. The doubt was, how to get it? + +"There's young Dick--Vincent, as he likes to be called now," +soliloquised Roland. "I've never asked him to help me, but perhaps he +might: he's not ill-natured where his pocket's not called in question. +I'll go to him tomorrow; see if I don't. Now then, are you dry?" + +This was to the writing. Roland rose up to get more paper, and then +found that he had left it behind him at the office--some that he ought +to have brought home. + +"There's a bother! I wonder if I could get it by going round? Of +course the offices are closed, but I'd not mind asking Bede for the +key if he's in the way." + +To think and to act were one with Roland. He put on his coat, took his +hat, and went hastening along on his expedition. Rather to his +surprise, as he drew to his walk's end, his quick eyes, casting +themselves into dark spots as well as light ones, caught sight of Bede +Greatorex standing in the shade opposite his house, apparently +watching its lighted windows, from which sounds of talking and +laughing issued forth. Roland conjectured that some gaiety was as +usual going on in the house, which its master would escape. Over he +went to him, without ceremony. + +"You don't like all that, sir?" he said, indicating the supposed +company. + +"Not too much of it," replied Bede Greatorex, startled out of his +reverie by the unexpected address. "The fact is," he condescended to +explain to his curious clerk, perhaps as an excuse for standing there, +"certain matters have been giving me trouble of late. I was in deep +thought." + +"Mrs. Bede Greatorex does love society: she did as Louisa Joliffe," +remarked Roland, meaning to be confidential. + +"I was not thinking of Mrs. Bede Greatorex, but of the loss from my +office," spoke his master in a cold, proud tone of reproof. + +Crossing the road, as if declining further conversation, he went in. +Roland saw he had offended him, and wished his tongue had been tied, +laying down his thoughtless speech as usual to the having sojourned at +Port Natal. It might not be a propitious moment for requesting the +loan of the office keys, and Roland had the sense to foresee it. + +Who should come out of the house at that moment, but Annabel Channing, +attended by a servant. The sight of her put work, keys, and all else, +out of Roland's head. He leaped across, seized her hands, and learnt +that she had got leave to spend the evening with Hamish and his wife. + +"_I'll_ take care of you; _I'll_ see you safely there," cried Roland, +impetuously. "You can go back, old Dalla." + +Old Dalla--a middle-aged yellow woman who had brought Jane Greatorex +from India and remained with the child as her attendant--made no more +ado, but took him at his word; glad to be spared the walk, she turned +indoors at once. And before Annabel well knew what had occurred, she +found herself being whirled away by Roland in an opposite direction to +the one she wished to go. It was only twilight yet. Roland had her +securely on his arm, and began to pace the square. To say the truth, +he looked on the meeting as a special chance, for he had not once set +eyes on the young lady, save in the formal presence of others, since +that avowal of his a fortnight ago, in Mr. Greatorex's room. + +"What are you doing?" she asked, when she could collect herself "This +is not the way to Hamish's." + +"This is the way to get a few words with you, Annabel; one can't talk +in the streets with its glare and its people. We are private here; and +I'll take you to Hamish's in a minute or two." + +In this impulsive fashion, he began telling her his plans and his +dreams. That he had determined to make an income and a home for her: +as a beginning, until something better turned up, he was working all +his spare time at copying deeds, "nearly night and day." One less +unsophisticated than Roland Yorke, might have suppressed a small item +of the programme--that which related to Annabel's contributing to the +fund herself, by obtaining pupils. Not he. He avowed it just as openly +as his own intention of getting "something under Government." In +short, Roland made the young lady a regular offer. Or, rather, did not +so much _make_ the offer, as assume that it had been already made, and +was, so far, settled. His arguments were sensible; his plans looked +really feasible; the day-dreams tolerably bright. + +"But I have not said I would have you yet," spoke Annabel all in a +flutter, when she could get a word in edgeways. "You should not make +so sure of things." + +"Not make sure of it! Not have me!" cried Roland, in indignant +remonstrance. "Now look you here, Annabel--you _know_ you'll have me: it +is all nonsense to make believe you won't. I don't suppose I've asked +you in the proper way, or put things in the proper light; but you +ought to make allowance for a fellow who has had his manners knocked +out of him at Port Natal. When the time arrives that I've got a little +house and a few chairs and tables in its rooms, you'll come home to me +and I'll try and make you happy in it, and work for you till I drop! +There! If I knew how to say it better, I would: and you need not +despise a man for his incapable way of putting it. Not have me! I'd +like to know who you would have, if not me!" + +Annabel Channing offered no farther remonstrance. That she had +contrived to fall in love with Roland Yorke, and would rather marry +him than anybody else in the world, she knew all too well. The home +and the chairs and the tables in it, and the joint working together to +keep it going, wore a bright vista to her heart, looked at from a +distance with youth's hopeful eyes. But she did not speak: and Roland, +mistaking her silence, regarded it as a personal injury. + +"When I and Arthur are the dearest friends in the world! He'd give you +to me off-hand; I know it. It is not kind of you, Annabel. We engaged +ourselves to each other when you were a little one and I was a tall +donkey of fourteen, and if I've ever thought of a wife at all since I +grew up, it was of you. I have done nothing but think of you since I +came back. I wonder how _you'd_ feel if I turned round and said, 'I +don't know that I shall have you.' Not jovial, I know." + +"You should not bring up the nonsense we said when we were children," +returned Annabel, at a loss what else to answer. "I'm sure I could not +have been above seven. We were playing at oranges and lemons: I +remember the evening quite well: and you----" + +"Now just you be open, Annabel, and say what it is your mind's +harbouring against me," interrupted Roland, in a tone of deep feeling. +"Is it that twenty-pound note of old Galloway's?--or is it because I +went knocking about at Port Natal?" + +"Oh, Roland, how foolish you are! As if I could think of either!" + +And there was something in the words and tone, in the pretty, shy, +blushing face that reassured Roland. From that moment he looked upon +matters as irrevocably settled, gave Annabel's hand a squeeze against +his side, and went on to enlarge upon his dreams of the future. + +"I've taken counsel with myself and with Mrs. J., and I don't think +the pair of us are likely to be led astray by romance, Annabel, for +she is one of the strong-minded ones. She agrees with me that we might +do well on three hundred a year; and, what with my work and your +pupils, we could make that easily. But, I said to her, let's be on the +safe side, and put it down at only two hundred. Just to begin with, +you know, Annabel. She said, 'Yes, we might do on that if we were both +economical'--and I'm sure if I've not learnt to be _that_ I've learnt +nothing. I would not risk the temptation of giving away--which I am +afraid I'm prone to--for you should be cash-keeper, Annabel; just as +Mrs. J. keeps my sovereign a week now. My goodness! the having no +money in one's pocket is a safeguard. When I see things in the shop +windows, whether it's eatables, or what not, I remember my lack of +cash, and pass on. I stopped to look at a splendid diamond necklace +yesterday in Regent Street, and thought how much I should like to get +it for you; but with empty pockets, where was the use of going in to +enquire the price?" + +"I do not care for diamonds," said Annabel. + +"You will have them some time, I hope, when my fortune's made. But +about the two hundred a year? Mrs. J. said if we could be sure of +making that regularly, she thought we might risk it; only, _she_ said +there might be interruptions. It would not be Mrs. J. if she didn't +croak." + +"Interruptions!" exclaimed Annabel, something as Roland had +interrupted Mrs. Jones, and quite as unsuspicious as he. "Of what +kind?" + +"Sickness, Mrs. J. mentioned, and--but I don't think I'll tell you +that," considered Roland. "Let's say, and general contingencies. I'm +sure I should as soon have thought of setting up a menagerie of owls, +but for her putting it into my head. A fellow who has helped to land +boats at Port Natal can't be expected to foresee everything. Would you +be afraid to encounter the two hundred a year?" + +"I fear mamma would for me. And Hamish." + +"Now Annabel, don't you get bringing up objections for other people. +Time enough for that when they come down with them of their own +accord. I intend to speak to Hamish tonight if I can get the +opportunity. I don't want you to keep your promise a secret. You are a +dear good girl, and the little home shall be ours before a +twelvemonth's gone by, if I have to work my hands off." + +The little home! Poor Roland! If he could but have foreseen what +twelve months would bring forth. + + +Hamish Channing's book had come out under more favourable auspices +than Gerald's. The publisher, far from demanding money in advance for +expenses, had made fair terms with him. Of course the result would +depend on the sale. When Hamish held the first copies in his hand, his +whole being was lighted up with silent enthusiasm; the joy it was to +bring, the appreciation, had already set in. He sent a copy to his +mother; and he sent one to Gerald Yorke, with a brief, kind note: in +the simplicity of his heart, he supposed Gerald would rejoice, just as +he at first had rejoiced for him. + +How good the book was, Hamish knew. The publisher knew. The world, +Hamish thought, would soon know. He did not deceive himself in its +appreciation, or exaggerate the real worth and merits of the work: in +point of fact, the praise meted out to Gerald's would have been really +applicable to his. Never did Hamish, even in his moments of extremest +doubt and diffidence, cast a thought to the possibility that his book +would be cried down. Already he was thinking of beginning a second; +and his other work, the occasional papers, went on with a zest. + +He sat with his little girl, Nelly, on his knee, on this selfsame +evening that Roland had pounced on Annabel. The child had her blue +eyes and her bright face turned to him as she chattered. He looked +down fondly at her and stroked the pretty curls of her golden hair. + +"And when will the ship be home, papa?" + +"Very soon now. It is nearing the port." + +"But when will it be quite, quite, quite home?" + +"In a few days, I think, Nelly. I am not sure, but I ought to say it +has come." + +"It was those books that came in the parcel last night?" said shrewd +little Nelly. + +"Even so, darling." + +"Mamma has been reading them all day. I saw"--Nelly put her sweet face +close up and dropped her voice--"I saw her crying at places of them." + +A soft faint crimson stole into Hamish Channing's cheeks; his lips +parted, his breath came quicker; a sudden radiance illuminated his +whole countenance. This whisper of the child's brought to his heart +its first glad sense of that best return--appreciation. + +Company arrived to interrupt the quiet home happiness. Mrs. Gerald +Yorke and her three meek children. Winny had a face of distress, and +made a faint apology for bringing the little ones, but it was over +early to leave them in bed. Close upon this, Roland and Annabel +entered, and had the pleasure of being in time to hear Gerald's wife +tell out her grievances. + +They were of the old description. No money, importunate creditors, +Gerald unbearably cross. Annabel felt inclined to smile; Roland was +full of sympathy. Had the prospective fortune (that he was sure to +make) been already in his hands, he would have given a purse of gold +to Winny, and carried off the three little girls to a raree-show there +and then. The next best thing was to promise them the treat: which he +did largely. + +"And me too, Roland," cried eager Nelly, dancing in and out amid the +impromptu visitors in the highest glee, her shining curls never still. + +"Of course _you_," said Roland to the fair child who had come to an +anchor before him, flinging her arms upon his knees. "I'd not go +anywhere without you, you know, Nelly. If I were not engaged to +somebody else, I'd make you my little wife." + +"Who is the somebody else? Kitty?" + +"Not Kitty. She's too little." + +"Let it be me, then." + +Roland laughed, and looked across at Hamish. "If I don't ask you for +her, I may for somebody else. So prepare." + +"I'm sure, I hope, Roland, if ever you do marry, that you'll not be +snappish with your wife and little girls, as your brother is with us," +interposed Winny with a sob. "I think it is something in Mr. +Channing's book that has put him out today. As soon as it came this +morning, he locked himself in the room alone with it, and never came +out for hours; but when he did come--oh, was he not in a temper! He +pushed Winnifred and she fell on the carpet, and he shook Rosy till +she cried; and nobody knows for what. I'm sure they are like mice for +quietness when he's there; they are too much afraid of him to be +otherwise." + +It was well for Gerald Yorke that he committed no grave crimes; for +his wife, in her childish simplicity, in her inability to bear in +silence, would be safe to have betrayed them. She was right in her +surmises--in fact, Winny, with all her silliness, had a great deal of +discernment--that the cause of her husband's temper being worse than +usual was Hamish Channing's book. Seizing upon it when it came, Gerald +locked himself up with it, forbidding any interruption in terms that +might not be disobeyed. On the surface alone he could see that it was +no sham book: Gerald's book had about twenty lines in a page, and the +large, wide, straggling type might have been read a mile off. This was +different: it was closely printed, rather than not, as if the writer +were at no fault for matter. In giving a guinea and a half for this +work, the public would not find itself deluded into finding nothing to +read. Gerald sat down. He was about to peruse this long-expected book, +and he devoutly hoped to find it bad and worthless. + +But, if Gerald Yorke could not write, he could appreciate: and with +the first commencing pages he saw what the work really was--rare, +good, of powerful interest; essentially the production of a good man, +a scholar, and a gentleman. + +As he read on and on, his brow grew dark with a scowl, his lips were +angrily bitten: the book, properly noticed, would certainly set the +world a-longing: and Gerald might experience some difficulty in +writing it down. The knowledge did not tend to soften his generally +ill-conditioned state of mind, and he flung the last volume on the +table with a harsh word. Even at that early stage, some of the +damnatory terms he would use to extinguish the book passed through his +active brain. + +Emerging from his retreat towards evening in this genial mood, he made +those about him suffer from it. Winny, the non-enduring, might well +wish to escape with her helpless children! Gerald departed; to keep an +engagement at a white-bait entertainment; and she came to Hamish +Channing's. + +How different were the two men! Hamish Channing's heart had ached to +pain at the badness of Gerald's book, for Gerald's sake; had he been a +magician, he would have transformed its pages, with a stroke of his +wand, to the brightest and best ever given to the world. Gerald Yorke +put on the anger of a fiend because Hamish's work was _not_ bad; and +laid out his plans to ruin it. + + + "Man, vain man, dressed in a little brief authority, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven + As make the angels weep." + + +If the world is not entirely made up of these two types of men, the +bad and the good, the narrow-hearted and the wide, the kindly generous +and the cruelly selfish, believe me there are a vast many of each in +it. + +"It's getting worse and worse," sobbed Winny, continuing her +grievances over the tea-table. "I don't mean Gerald now, but the +shortness of money and the worry. I know we shall have to go into the +workhouse!" + +"Bless you, don't lose heart!" cried Roland with a beaming face. "_I_ +can never lose that again, after the ups and downs in Africa. I'll +tell you of one, Mrs. Gerald.--Another piece of muffin, Kitty? there +it is.--I and another fellow had had no food to speak of for two days; +awfully low we were. We went into a store and they gave us some +advertising bills to paste on the walls. Well, somehow I lost the +fellow and the bills, for he had taken possession of them. I went +rushing about everywhere, looking for him--and that's not so pleasant +when your inside's as hollow as an empty herring barrel--but he never +turned up again. Whether he decamped with the bills, or whether he was +put out of the way by a knock on the head, I don't know to this hour. +Anyhow I had to go back to the store the next day, and tell about it. +If you'll believe me they accused me of swallowing the bills, or +otherwise making away with them, and called for a man to take me into +custody. A day and a night I lay in their detention cell, with nothing +to eat and the rats running over me. Oh, wasn't it good! One can't be +nice, over there, our experiences don't let us be; but I always had a +horror of rats. Well, I got over that, Mrs. Gerald." + +"Did they try you for it?" questioned Mrs. Gerald, who had suspended +her tea to listen, full of interest. + +"Good gracious, no! They let me out. Oh, but I could tell you of worse +fixes than that. _You_ take heart, I say; and never trouble your +thoughts about workhouses. Things are safe to turn round when they +seem at the worst." + +The tea over, Mrs. Yorke said she must take her departure: the +children were weary; she scarcely knew how she should get them back. +Hamish had a cab called: when it came he went out and lifted the +little ones into it. Winny looked at it dubiously. + +"You'll not tell Gerald that I said he was in a temper about your +book, Mr. Channing?" she said pleadingly, as she took her seat. + +"I'll not tell Gerald tales of any sort," answered Hamish with his gay +smile. "Take heart, as Roland tells you to do, and look forward to +better days both for you and your husband. Perhaps there is a little +glimmer of their dawn already showing itself, though you cannot yet +see it." + +"Do you mean through Gerald's book?" she asked half crossly. + +"Oh dear no. What I mean has nothing to do with Gerald's book. Who has +the paper of cakes?--Fredy. All right. Good night. The cab's paid, +Mrs. Yorke." + +Mrs. Yorke burst into tears, leaned forward, and clasped Hamish's +hand. The intimation, as to the cab, had solved a difficulty running +through her mind. It was a great relief. + +"God bless you, Mr. Channing! You are always kind." + +"Only trust in God," he whispered gravely. "Trust Him ever, and He +will take care of you." + +The cab drove off, and Hamish turned away, to encounter Roland Yorke. +That gentleman, making his opportunity, had followed Hamish out; and +now poured into his ear the tale he had to tell about himself and +Annabel. Hamish did not hear it with altogether the stately dignity +that might be expected to attend the reception of an offer of marriage +for one's sister. On the contrary, he burst out laughing in Roland's +face. + +"Come now! be honest," cried Roland, deeply offended. "Is it me you +despise, Mr. Channing, or the small prospect I can offer her?" + +"Neither," said Hamish, laughing still. "As to yourself, old fellow, +if Annabel and the mother approve, _I_ should not object. I never +gave a heartier handshake to any man than I would to you as my +brother-in-law. I like you better than I do the other one, William +Yorke; and there's the truth." + +"Oh--him! you easily might," answered Roland, jerking his nose into +the air, with his usual depreciation of the Reverend William Yorke's +merits. "Then why do you laugh at me?" + +"I laughed at the idea of your making two hundred a year at copying +deeds." + +"I didn't say I should. You couldn't have been listening to me, +Hamish--I wish, then, you'd not laugh so, as if you only made game of +a fellow! What I said was, that I was putting my shoulder to the wheel +in earnest, and had begun with copying, not to waste time. I have been +thinking I'd try young Dick Yorke." + +"Try him for what?" + +"Why, to get me a post of some sort. I think he'll do it if he can. +I'm sure it's not much I shall ask for--only a couple of hundreds a +year, or so. And if Annabel secures a nice pupil or two, there'd be +three hundred a year to start with. You'd not mind her teaching a +little, would you, Hamish, while I was waiting for the skies to rain +gold?" + +"Not I. That would be for her own consideration." + +"And when we shall have got the three hundred a year in secure +prospect, you'll talk to Mrs. Channing of Helstonleigh for me, won't +you?" + +Hamish thought he might safely say Yes. The idea of Roland's "putting +his shoulder to the wheel" sufficiently to earn two hundred pounds +income, seemed to be amidst the world's improbabilities. He could not +get over his laughing, and it vexed Roland. + +"You think I can't work. You'll see. I'll go off to young Dick Yorke +this very hour, and sound him. Nothing like taking time by the +forelock. He is likely to be married, I hear." + +"Who is?" + +"Young Dick. They call him Vincent now, but before I went to Port +Natal 'Dick' was good enough for him. My father never spoke of them +but as old Dick and young Dick. Not that we had anything to do with +the lot: they held themselves aloof from us. I never saw either of +them but once, and that was when they came down to Helstonleigh to my +father's funeral. He died in residence, you know, Hamish." + +Hamish nodded: he remembered all the circumstances perfectly. Dr. +Yorke's death had been unexpected until quite the last. Ailing for +some time, he had yet been sufficiently well to enter on what was +called his close residence of twenty-one days as Prebendary of the +cathedral, of which he was also sub-dean. The disease made so rapid +progress that before the residence was out he had expired. + +"Old Dick made some promises to George that day, saying he'd get him +on because George was the eldest, I suppose; he took little notice of +the rest of us," resumed Roland. "It was after we came in from the +funeral, in our crape scarfs and hat-bands. But he never did an +earthly thing for him, Hamish--as poor George could tell you, if he +were alive. My father always said his brother Dick was selfish." + +"You may find young Dick the same," said Hamish. + +"So I should if it were his pocket I wanted to touch. But it's not, +you know. And now I'll be off to him. I had intended to spend this +evening at my copying, but I left the paper in the office, and there +was likely to be a hitch about my getting it I'll make up for it +tomorrow night. I shall be back in time to tell you of my success, and +to help you take Annabel home." + +Roland's way of taking time by the forelock was to dash through the +streets at his utmost speed, no matter what impediments he might have +to overthrow in his way, and into the fashionable clubhouse +frequented by Vincent Yorke, who dined there quite as often as he did +at his father's house in Portland Place. Roland was in luck, and met +him coming out. + +"I say Vincent, do stay and hear me for a minute or two. It is +something of consequence." + +Vincent Yorke, not altogether approving of this familiar mode of +salutation from Roland, although fate had made them cousins, did not +quite see his way to refuse the request. As Roland had said, young +Dick was sufficiently good-natured where his pocket was not attacked. +He led the way to a corner in a room where they could be private, sat +down, and offered a chair to Roland. + +It was declined. Roland was a great deal too excited and too eager to +sit. He poured forth his wants and hopes--that he wished co work +honestly for just bread and cheese, and to get his own living, and be +beholden to nobody: would he, Dick, help him to a place? He did not +mind how hard he worked; till his shirtsleeves were wet with honest +sweat, if need be; and live on potatoes and half a pint of beer a day; +so that he might just get on a little, and make a sum of two hundred +pounds a year: or one hundred to begin with. + +The word "Dick" slipped out inadvertently in Roland's heat. Not a man +living so little capable, as he, of remembering conventionalities when +thus excited. Vincent Yorke, detecting the earnest purpose, the +sanguine hope, the real single-mindedness of the applicant, could but +stare and laugh, and excuse mistakes under the circumstances. The very +boldness of the request, preferred with straightforward candour and +without the slightest reticence, told on him favourably, because it +was so opposite to the crafty diplomacy that most men would have +brought to bear on such an application. Favourably only, you +understand, in so far as that he did not return a haughty repulse +off-hand, but condescended to answer civilly. + +"Such things are not in my line," he said, and--face to face with that +realistic Port Natal traveller, he for once put aside his beloved +fashionable attribute, the mincing lisp. "I don't go in for politics; +never did go in for 'em; and Government places are not likely to come +in my way. You should have applied to Sir Richard. He knows one or two +of the Cabinet Ministers." + +"I did apply to him once," replied Roland, "and he sent me off with a +flea in my ear. I said then, I'd never ask him for any thing again, +though it were to keep me from starving." + +Vincent Yorke smiled. "Look here," said he; "you take him in his +genial moods. Go up to him now; he'll just have dined. If anything can +be got out of him, that's the time." + +Mr. Vincent Yorke hit upon this quite as much to get rid of Roland, as +in any belief in its efficacy. In the main what he said was true--that +Sir Richard's after-dinner moods were his genial ones; but that Roland +had not the ghost of a chance of being helped, he very well knew. That +unsophisticated voyager, however, took it all in. + +"I'll run up at once," he said. "I'm so much obliged to you, Vincent. +I say, are you not soon going to be married? I heard so." + +"Eh--yes," replied Vincent, with frigid coldness, relapsing into +himself and the fine gentleman. + +"I wish you the best of good luck," returned Roland, heartily shaking +the somewhat unwilling hand with a grip that he might have learned at +Port Natal. "And I hope she'll make you as good a wife as I know +somebody else will make me. Good night, Vincent, I'm off." + +Vincent nodded. It struck him that, with all his drawbacks and +deficiencies, Roland was rather a nice young fellow. + +Outside the club door stood a hansom. Roland, in his eagerness and +haste, was only kept from bolting into it by the slight deterrent +accident of having no change in his pocket to pay the fare. He did not +lose much. The speed at which he tore up Regent Street might have kept +pace with the wheels of most cabs; and the resounding knock and ring +he gave at Sir Richard's door in Portland Place, must surely have +caused the establishment to think it announced the arrival of a +fire-escape. + +The door was flung open on the instant, as if to an expected visitor. +But that Roland was not the one waited for, was proved by the surprise +of the servant. He arrested the further entrance. + +"You are not the doctor!" + +"Doctor!" said Roland, "I am no doctor. Let me pass if you please. I +am Mr. Roland Yorke." + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man, recognizing the name as one +borne by a nephew of the house. "You can go up, sir, of course if you +please, but my master is just taken ill. He has got a stroke." + +"Bless me!" cried Roland, in concern. "Is it a bad one?" + +"I'm afraid it is for death, sir," whispered the man. "We left him at +his wine after dinner, all comfortable; and when we went in a few +minutes ago, there he was, drawed together so that you couldn't know +him, and no breath in his body that we could hear. The nearest +doctor's coming, and James is running to fifteen likely places to see +if he can find Mr. Vincent." + +"I'll go for him; I know where he is," cried Roland. And without +further reflection he hailed another hansom that happened to be +passing, jumped into it and ordered it to the clubhouse. Vincent was +only then coming down the steps. He took Roland's place and galloped +home. + +"I hope he'll be in time," thought Roland. "Poor old Dick!" + +He was not in time. And the next morning London woke up to the news of +Sir Richard Yorke's sudden death from an attack of apoplexy. And his +son, the third baronet, had succeeded to the family estates and +honours as Sir Vincent Yorke. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +A LITTLE MORE LIGHT. + + +Something fresh, though not much, had turned up, relating to the case +of the late Mr. Ollivera. That it should do so after so many years had +elapsed--or, rather, that it should not have done so before--was +rather remarkable. But as it bears very little upon the history in its +present stage, it may be dismissed in a chapter. + +When John Ollivera departed on the circuit which was destined to bring +him his death, a young man of the name of Willett accompanied the bar. +He had been "called," but in point of fact only went as clerk to one +of the leading counsel. There are barristers and barristers just as +there are young men and young men. Mr. Charles Willett had been of +vast trouble to his family; and one of his elder brothers, Edmund, who +was home from India on a temporary sojourn to recruit his health, had +taken up the cause against him rather sharply: which induced a quarrel +between them and lasting ill-feeling. + +An intimacy had sprung up between Edmund Willett and John Ollivera, +and they had become the closest of friends They took a (supposed) +final leave of each other when Mr. Ollivera departed on his circuit, +for Mr. Willett was on the point of returning to India. His health had +not improved, but he was obliged to go back; he was in a merchant's +house in Calcutta; and the probabilities certainly were that he would +not live to come home again. However, contrary to his own and general +expectations, as is sometimes the case the result proved that +everybody's opinion was mistaken. He not only did not die, but he grew +better, and finally lived: and he had now come to England on business +matters. The minute details attendant on John Ollivera's death had +never reached him, either through letters or newspapers, and he became +acquainted with them for the first time in an interview with the Rev. +Mr. Ollivera. When the unfinished letter was mentioned, and the fact +that they had never been able to trace out the smallest information as +to whom it was intended for Mr. Willett at once said that it must have +been intended for himself. He had charged John Ollivera (rather +against the latter's will) to carry out, if possible, an arrangement +with Charles Willett upon a certain disagreeable matter which had only +come recently to the knowledge of his family, and to get that young +man's written promise to arrest himself in, at least, one of his +downward courses towards ruin. The letter to Mr. Ollivera, urging the +request, was written and posted in London on the Saturday; Mr. +Ollivera (receiving it on Sunday morning at Helstonleigh) would no +doubt see Charles Willett in the course of Monday. That this was the +"disagreeable commission" he had spoken of to Mr. Kene, as having been +entrusted to him, and which he had left the Court at half-past three +o'clock to enter upon, there could be no manner of doubt. Mr. Willett +had expected an answer from him on Tuesday morning--it was the last +day of his stay in London, for he would take his departure by the +Dover mail in the evening--which answer never came. That Mr. Ollivera +was writing the letter for the nine o'clock night despatch from +Helstonleigh, and that the words in the commencing lines, "should I +never see you again," referred solely to Mr. Willett's precarious +health, and to the belief that he would not live to return again from +India, also appeared to be indisputable. If this were so, why then, +the first part of the letter, at any rate, was the sane work of a +perfectly sane man, and no more pointed at self-destruction than it +did at self-shampooing. The clergyman and Mr. Willett, arriving at +this most natural conclusion, sat and looked at each other for a few +moments in painful silence. That unexplained and apparently +unexplainable letter had been the one sole stumbling-block in Henry +William Ollivera's otherwise perfect belief. + +But, to leave no loophole of uncertainty, Charles Willett was sought +out. When found (with slippers down at heel, a short pipe in his +mouth, and a pewter pint-pot at his elbow) he avowed, without the +smallest reticence, that John Ollivera's appointment for half-past +three on that long-past Monday afternoon in Helstonleigh, _had_ been +with him; and that, in answer to Mr. Ollivera's interference in his +affairs, he had desired him to mind his own business and to send word +to his brother to do the same. + +This left no doubt whatever on the clergyman's mind that the commenced +letter had been as sensible and ordinary a letter as any man could sit +down to pen, and that the blotted words were appended to it by a +different hand--that of the murderer. + +In the full flush of his newly-acquired information, he went straight +to the house of Mr. Greatorex, to pour the story into his uncle's ear. +It happened to be the very day alluded to in the last chapter--in the +evening of which you had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Roland Yorke +industriously putting his shoulder to the wheel, after the ordinary +hours of office work were over. + +Mr. Greatorex had been slightly discomposed that day in regard to +business matters. It seemed to him that something or other was +perpetually arising to cause annoyance to the firm. Their connection +was on the increase, requiring the unwearied, active energies of its +three heads more fully than it had ever done; whereas one of those +heads was less efficient in management than he used to be--the second +of them, Bede Greatorex. Mr. Greatorex, a remarkably capable man, +always had more hard, sterling, untiring work in him than Bede, and he +had it still. With his mother's warm Spanish blood, Bede had inherited +the smallest modicum of temperamental indolence. As he had inherited +(so ran the suspicion), the disease which had proved fatal to her. + +"I cannot reproach him as I would," thought Mr. Greatorex, throwing +himself into a chair in his room, when he quitted the office for the +day, urged to despair almost at this recent negligence, or whatever it +was, that had been brought home to them, and which had been traced to +some forgetfulness of Bede's. "With that wan, weary look in his face, +just as his mother's wore when her sickness was coming on, it goes +against me to blow him up harshly, as I should Frank. He must be very +ill; he could not, else, look as he does; perhaps already nearly past +hope: it was only when she was past hope that she suddenly failed in +her round of duties and broke down. And he has one misery that his +mother had not--trouble of mind, with that wife of his." + +It was at this juncture that Mr. Greatorex was broken in upon by Henry +William Ollivera. The clergyman, standing so that the bright slanting +rays of the hot evening sun, falling across his face, lighted up its +pallor and its suppressed eagerness, imparted the tale that he had +come to tell: the discovery that he and Edmund Willett had that day +made. + +It a little excited Mr. Greatorex. Truth to say, he had always looked +upon that unfinished letter as a nearly certain proof that his +nephew's death _had_ been in accordance with the verdict of the jury. +To him, as well as to the dead man's brother, the apparent +impossibility of discovering any cause for its having been penned, or +person for whom it could have been intended, had remained the great +gulf of difficulty which could not be bridged over. + +In this, the first moment of the disclosure, it seemed to him a great +discovery. We all know how exaggerated a view we sometimes take of +matters, when they are unexpectedly presented to us. Mr. Greatorex +went forth, calling aloud for his son Bede: who came down, in return +to the call, in dinner attire. As Bede entered, his eye fell on his +cousin Henry--or William, as Mr. Greatorex generally liked to call +him--whose usually placid countenance was changed by the scarlet +hectic on its thin cheeks. Bede saw that something, great or little, +was about to be disclosed, and wished himself away again: for some +time past he had felt no patience with the fancies and crotchets of +Henry Ollivera. + +It was Mr. Greatorex who disclosed what there was to tell. Bede +received it ungraciously; that is, in spite of disbelieving mockery. +Henry Ollivera was accustomed to these moods of his. The clergyman did +not resent it openly; he simply stood with his deep eyes fixed +watchingly on Bede's face, as if the steady gaze, the studied silence, +carried their own reproof. + +"I believe, if some wight came down on a voyage from the moon, and fed +you with the most improbable fable ever invented by the erratic +imagination of man, you would place credence in it," said Bede, +turning sharply on Mr. Ollivera. + +"Edmund Willett has not come from the moon," quietly spoke the +clergyman. + +"But Charles Willett--lost man!--is no better than a lunatic in his +drinking bouts," retorted Bede. + +"At any rate, he was neither a lunatic nor drunk today." + +"His story does not hold water," pursued Bede. "Is it likely--is it +possible, I should almost say,--that had he been the man with whom the +appointment was held that afternoon, he would have kept the fact in +until now?--and when so much stir and enquiry were made at the time?" + +"Edmund Willett says it is just exactly the line of conduct his +brother might have been expected to pursue," said Mr. Ollivera. "He +was always of an ill-conditioned temper--morose, uncommunicative. That +what Charles Willett says is perfectly true, I am as sure of as I am +that I stand hers, You had better see him yourself, Bede." + +"To what end?" + +"That you may be also convinced." + +"And if I were convinced?" questioned Bede, after a pause. "What +then?" + +"I think the enquiry should be reopened," said Mr. Ollivera, +addressing chiefly his uncle. "When I have spoken of pursuing it +before, I was always met, both by Butterby and others, with the +confuting argument that this letter was in my way. To say the truth, I +found it a little so myself always. Always until this day." + +"Don't bring up Butterby as an authority, William," interposed Mr. +Greatorex. "If Butterby cannot conduct other cases better than he has +conducted the one concerning our lost cheque, I'd not give a feather +for him and his opinions." + +For the purloiner of that cheque remained an undiscovered puzzle; and +the house of Greatorex and Greatorex (always excepting one of them) +felt very sore upon the point, and showed it. + +"William is right, Bede. This discovery removes a mountain of +uncertainty and doubt. And if, by ventilating the unhappy affair again +we can unfold the mystery that attaches to it, and so clear John's +name and memory, it ought to be done." + +"But what can be tried, sir, or done, more than has been?" asked Bede, +in a tone of reasoning. + +"I don't know. Something may be. Of one thing I have felt a conviction +all along--that if John's life was rudely taken by man's wicked hand, +heaven will in time bring it to light. The old saying, that 'Murder +will out,' is a very sure one." + +"I do not think it has proved so in every instance," returned Bede, +dreamily carrying his recollection backwards. "Some cases have +remained undiscovered always." + +"Yes, to the world," acquiesced Mr. Greatorex. "But there lies a firm +belief in my mind that no man--or woman either--over committed a +wilful murder, but someone or other suspected him in their secret +heart, and saw him in all his naked, miserable sin." + +"Don't bring woman's name in, father. I never like to hear it done." + +Bede spoke in the somewhat fractious tone he had grown often to use; +that it was but the natural outlet of some inward pain none could +doubt. Mr. Greatorex put it down chiefly to bodily suffering. + +"Women have done worse deeds than men," was the elder man's answer. +And Mr. Ollivera took a step forward. + +"Whether man or woman did this--that is, took my dear brother's +life--and then suffered the slur to rest on his own innocent +self--suffered him to be buried like a dog--suffered his best +relatives to think of him as one who had forfeited Heaven's redeeming +mercy, I know not," said the clergyman. "But from this time forward, I +vow never to slacken heart, or hand, or energy, until I shall have +brought the truth to light. The way was long and dark, and seemed +hopeless; it might be that I lost patience and grew slack and weary; +perhaps this discovery has arisen to reprove me and spur me on." + +"But what can you do in it?" again asked Bede. + +"Whatever I do in it, I shall not come to you to aid me, Bede," was +the reply. "It appears to me--and I have told you this before--that +you would rather keep the dark cloud on my brother's name than help to +lift it. What had he ever done to you in life that you should so +requite him?" + +"Heaven knows my heart and wish would be good to clear him," spoke +Bede, with an earnestness that approached agitation. "But if I am +unable to do it,--if I cannot see how it may be done,--if the power of +elucidation does not lie with me--what would you?" + +"You have invariably thrown cold water upon every effort of mine. My +most earnest purposes you have all but ridiculed." + +"No, Henry. I have been sorry, vexed if you will, at what I thought +the mistaken view you take up. Over-reiteration of a subject leads to +weariness. If I was unable to see any other probable solution than the +one arrived at by the coroner and jury, it was not my fault. As to +John--if by sacrificing my own life, at any moment since I saw him +lying dead, could have restored his, I would willingly have offered it +up." + +"I beg your pardon, Bede; I spoke hastily," said the man of peace. "Of +course I had no right to be vexed that you and others cannot see with +my eyes. But, rely upon it, the avowal now made by Charles Willett is +true." + +"Yes, perhaps it may be," acknowledged Bede. + +"William," interrupted Mr. Greatorex, lifting his head after a pause +of thought--and his voice had sunk to a whisper. "It could not be +that--that--Charles Willett was the one to slink in, and harm him?" + +A kind of eager light flashed into the dark eyes of Bede Greatorex, as +he turned them on his cousin. If it did not express a belief in the +possibility of the suggestion, it at least betrayed that the idea +stirred up his interest. + +"No," said Mr. Ollivera. "No, no. Charles Willett has not behaved in a +straightforward manner over it, but he is cool and open now. He says +he has made it a rule for many years never to interfere voluntarily in +the remotest degree with other people's business; and therefore he did +not mention this until questioned today. Had he never been questioned, +he says, he would never have spoken. I cannot understand such a man; +it seems to me a positive sin not to have disclosed these facts at the +time; but I am sure he tells the whole of the truth now. And now I +must wish you good evening, for I have an engagement." + +Bede went along the passage with his cousin, and thence was turning to +ascend the staircase. His father called him. "What is it?" Bede asked, +advancing. + +"What is it?--why I want to talk to you about this." + +"Another time, father. The dinner's waiting." + +"You would go to dinner if the house were falling," spoke Mr. +Greatorex, in his hasty vexation. + +"Will you not come, sir?" + +"No. I don't want dinner. I shall get tea here and a chop with it. +Things that are happening worry me, Bede; if they don't you." + +Bede went away with a heavy sigh. Perhaps he was more worried, and had +greater cause for it too, than his father; but he did not choose to +let more of it than he could help be seen. + +Guests were at his table this evening, only some three or four; they +were bidden by Mrs. Bede, preparatory to going to the opera together. +It is more than probable that the suspicion of this assembly of guests +kept Mr. Greatorex away. + +The dinner was elaborate and expensive as usual. Bede ate nothing. He +sat opposite to his wife and talked with the company, and took viand +after viand on his plate when handed to him; but only to toy with the +morsel for a few moments, and send it away all but untasted. Why did +his wife gather around her this continual whirl of gaiety?--he nearly +asked it aloud with a groan. Did she want to get rid of care? as, +heaven knew, he did. A looker-on, able to dive into Bede's heart, +might rather have asked, "Nay, why did he suffer her to gather it?" + +The heat of the room oppressed him; the courses were long, but he sat +on--on, until quiescence became intolerable. When lights came in he +rose abruptly, went to the furthermost window, and threw it wide open. +Twilight encompassed the earth with her soft folds; the day's bold +garishness was over for at least some welcome hours. A woman was +singing in the street below, her barefooted children standing round +her with that shrinking air peculiar to such a group, and she turned +up a miserable, sickly, famine-stricken face to Bede, in piteous, mute +appeal. It was not ineffectual. Whatever his own cares and illness +might be, he at least could feel for others. Just as he flung the +woman a shilling, his wife came to him in a whisper, whose tone had an +unpleasant ring of taunt in it. + +"Have you, as usual, the headache, tonight?" + +"Headache and heartache, both, Louisa." + +"I should suppose so, by your quitting the table. You might have +apologized." + +"And you might give the house a little rest. How far I am from wishing +to complain or interfere unnecessarily, you must know, Louisa; but I +declare that this incessant strain of entertaining people will drive +me crazy. It is telling upon my nerves. It is telling in a different +way upon my father." + +"I shall entertain people every day, when I am not engaged out +myself," said Mrs. Bede Greatorex. "Take a house for me away, in Hyde +Park, or Belgravia; or I'd not mind Portland Place; and then we should +not annoy Mr. Greatorex. As long as you are obstinate about the one, I +shall be about the other." + +Bede seized her hand; partly in anger, partly--as it seemed--in +tenderness: and drew her nearer, that she might hear his impressive +whisper. + +"I am not sure but your wish, that we should quit the house, will be +gratified--though not as you expect. My father's patience is being +tried. He is the real owner of the house; and at any moment he may say +to us, Go out of it. Louisa, I. have thought of mentioning this to you +for some little time; but the subject is not a pleasant one." + +"I wish he would say it." + +"But don't you see the result? You are thinking of a west-end mansion. +My means would not allow me to take a dwelling half so good as this +one. That's the simple truth, Louisa." + +She flung his hand from her with a defiant laugh of power, as she +prepared to rejoin the guests. "_You_ might not, but I would." + +And Bede knew that to run him helplessly into debt would have been +fun, rather than otherwise, to his wife. + +Coffee came in at once, and Bede took the opportunity to escape. There +was no formal after-dinner sitting this evening, or withdrawal of the +ladies. As he passed along the corridor, Miss Channing was standing at +the door of the study. He enquired in a kind tone if she wanted +anything. + +"I am waiting for Mrs. Greatorex--to ask her if I may go for an hour +to my brother's," answered Annabel. "Old Dalla will take me." + +"Go by all means, if you wish," he said. "Why did you think it +necessary to ask? Do make yourself at home with us, Miss Channing, and +be as happy as you can." + +Annabel thanked him, and he went downstairs, little supposing how very +far from happy it was possible for her to be, exposed to all the +caprices of his wife. Halting at the door for a moment he wandered +across the street, and stood there in the shade, mechanically +listening to the ballad woman's singing, wafted faintly from the +distance, just as he mechanically looked up at his own lighted +windows, and heard the gay laughter that now and again came forth from +them. + +"I never ought to have married her," said the voice of conscience, +breathing its secrets from the cautious depths of his inmost heart. +"Every law, human and divine, should have warned me against it. I was +infatuated to blindness: nay, not to blindness; I cannot plead that: +but to folly. It was very wrong: it was horribly sinful: and heaven is +justly punishing me. The fault was mine: I might have kept aloof from +her after that miserably eventful night. I ought to have done so; to +have held her at more than arm's distance evermore. Ought!--lives +there another man on the face of the earth, I wonder, who would not? +The fault of our union was mine wholly, not hers; and so, whatsoever +trials she brings on me I will bear, patiently, as I best may. _I_ +sought _her_. She would never have dared to seek me, after that night +and the discovery I made the day subsequently in poor John's room: and +the complication of ill arising, or to arise, from our marriage, _I_ +have to answer for. I am nearly tired of the inward warfare: three +years of it! Three years and more, since I committed the mad act +of tying myself to her for life: for better or for worse: and it +has been nothing for me but one prolonged, never-shifting scene of +self-repentance. We are wearing a mask to each other: God grant that I +may go to my grave without being forced to lift it! For her sake; for +her sake!" + +He paused to raise his hat from his brow and wipe the sweat that had +gathered there. And then he took a step forward and a step backward in +the dim shade. But he could not drive away, even for a moment, the +care ever eating away his heart, or turn his vision from the +threatening shadow that always seemed looming in the distance. + +"Of all the wild infatuation that ever took possession of the heart of +man for woman, surely mine for Louisa Joliffe was the worst! Did Satan +lead me on? It must have been so. 'Be sure your sin shall find you +out.' Since that fatal moment when I stood at the altar with her, +those ominous words have never, I think, been quite absent from my +memory. Every hour of my life, every minute of the day and night as +they pass, does my sin find me. Knowing what I did know, could I not +have been content to let her go her own way, while I went mine? Heaven +help me! for I love her yet, as man rarely has loved. And when my +father, or any other, casts a reflection on her, it is worse to me +than a dagger's thrust. So long as I may, I will shield her from----" + +It was at this moment that the soliloquy, so pregnant with weighty if +vague revelation, was broken in upon by Mr. Roland Yorke. Little +guessed careless Roland what painful regrets he had put a temporary +stop to. Bede, as was previously seen, went indoors, and Roland +departed with Miss Channing on her evening visit, dismissing Dalla +without the smallest ceremony. + +The carriage, to convey Mrs. Bede Greatorex and her friends abroad, +drove up. Bede, somewhat neglectful of the rest, came out with his +wife, and placed her in it. + +"Are you not coming with us?" she bent forward to whisper, seeing he +was about to close the door. + +"Not tonight. I have some work to do." + +"Sulky as usual, Bede?" + +His lips parted to retort, but he closed them, and endured meekly. +Sulky to her he had never been, and she knew it. The carriage moved +away with her: and Bede lifted his hat; a smile, meant to deceive the +world, making his face one of careless gaiety. + +Whether he had work to do, or not, he did not get to it. Sauntering +away from the door, away and away, hardly knowing and not heeding +whither, he found himself presently in the Strand, and thence at the +river-side. There he paced backwards and forwards with unequal steps, +his mind lost in many things, but more especially in the communication +made that day by Henry Ollivera. + +The fragmentary letter connected with that long-past history, and the +appointment spoken of by Mr. Kene, that John Ollivera went out of +court to keep, had been as much of a puzzle to Bede Greatorex as it +was to other people. Upon reflection, he came now to think that the +present solution of the affair was the true one. Would it lead to +further discovery? Very fervently he hoped that it would not. There +were grave reasons, as none knew better than Bede, for keeping all +further discovery back; for, if it came, it would hurl down confusion, +dismay, and misery, upon innocent heads as well as guilty ones. + +The river, flowing on in its course, was silent and dull in the +summer's night. A line of light illumined the sky in the west where +the sultry sun had gone down in heat: and as Bede looked towards it +and thought of the All-seeing Eye that lay beyond that light, he felt +how fruitless it was for him to plot and plan, and to say this shall +be or this shall not be. The course of the future rested in the hands +of one Divine Ruler, and his own poor, short-sighted, impotent will +was worse than nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +LAID WITH HIS FOREFATHERS. + + +So great a man as Sir Richard Yorke must of course be honoured with a +great funeral. He had died on a Thursday; the interment was fixed for +the next Friday week: which, taking the heat of the weather and sundry +other trifles into consideration, was a little longer than it need +have been. Sir Vincent, his new dignity as head of the Yorke family +lying upon him with a due and weighty self-importance, was determined +(like Jonas Chuzzlewit of wide memory) that the public should see he +did not grudge to his late father any honour in the shape of plumes +and mutes and coaches and show, that it was in his power to accord to +him. There were three costly coffins, one of them of lead, and at the +very least three and sixty sets of towering feathers. So that Portland +Place was as a gala that day, and windows and pavements were alike +filled with sight-gazers. + +The Rev. William Yorke, Minor Canon of Helstonleigh Cathedral, +Chaplain of Hazledon, and Rector of Coombe Lee, was bidden to it. He +was not very nearly related to the deceased (his father and Sir +Richard had been second cousins), but he was undoubtedly a rising man +in the Church, and Sir Vincent thought fit to remember the connection. +The clergyman stood in the relationship of brother-in-law to Hamish +Channing; and it was at Hamish's house he stayed during the brief +stay--two days--of his sojourn in town. + +Another, honoured with an invitation, was Gerald Yorke. Roland was not +of a particularly exacting disposition, but he did think he, the +eldest, ought not to have been passed over for his younger brother. +Oughts don't go for much, however, in some things, as Roland knew. +Gerald belonged to the great world: he had, fashionable chambers, +fashionable friends, fashionable attire, and a fashionable drawl; his +private embarrassments were nothing to Sir Vincent; in fact they might +be said to be fashionable too: and so Gerald, the consequential, was +bidden to a seat in a mourning-coach, with feathers nodding on the +four horses' heads. + +Roland was ignored. Not more entirely so than if Sir Vincent had never +heard there was such a man in the world. A lawyer's clerk, enjoying a +pound a week and a turn-up bedstead, who took copying home to do at +twopence a page, and avowed he had just been nearly on the point of +turning hot-pie vendor, was clearly not an individual fit to be +suffered in contact with a deceased baronet, even though it were only +to follow him to the tomb of his forefathers. But, though Roland was +not there, his master was Mr. Greatorex. And Mr. Greatorex, as +solicitor and confidential man of business to the late Sir Richard, +occupied no unimportant post in the procession. + +It was late in the afternoon; and the mortal remains, bereft of all +their attendant pomp and plumes and scutcheons had been left in their +resting-place, when a mourning coach drew up to Mr. Channing's, out of +which stepped William and Gerald Yorke. Roland, happening to be there, +watched the descent from the drawing-room window side by side with +Nelly Channing, and it may be questioned which of the two looked on +with the more unsophisticated interest. Mr. Greatorex had not been +quite so unmindful of Roland's claims to be considered as Sir Vincent +was, and had told him he might take holiday on the day of his uncle's +funeral, by remaining away from the office. + +Roland obeyed one portion of it literally--the taking _holiday_. It +never occurred to Roland that he might turn the day to profit, by +putting his shoulder to the wheel, and his fingers to copying; holiday +was holiday, and he took it as such. Rigged out in a handsome new suit +of black (made in haste by Lord Carrick's tailor), black gloves, and a +band of cloth on his hat, Roland spent the forepart of the day in +sightseeing. As many showplaces as could be gone into for nothing, or +next to nothing, he went to; beginning with Madame Tussaud's waxwork, +for which somebody gave him admission, and ending with a live giantess +down in Whitechapel. Late in the afternoon, and a little tired, he +arrived at Hamish Channing's, and was rewarded by seeing Annabel. Mrs. +Bede Greatorex (gracious that day) had given Miss Channing permission +to spend the evening there to meet her sister's husband, the Rev. +William Yorke. Hamish, just in from his office, sat with them. Nelly +Channing, her nose flattened against the windowpane, shared with +Roland the delight of the descent from the coach. Its four black +horses and their lofty plumes, struck on the child's mind with a +sensation of awe that nearly overpowered the admiration. She wore a +white frock with black sash, and had her sleeves tied up with black +ribbons. Mrs. Channing, herself in black silk, possessed a large sense +of the fitness of things, and deemed it well to put the child in these +ribbons today, when two of the mourners would be returning there from +the funeral. + +They came upstairs, William and Gerald Yorke, and entered the +drawing-room, the silk scarves on their shoulders, and the flowing +hat-bands of crape sweeping the ground. Nelly backed into a corner, +and stood there staring at the attire. It was the first time the +clergyman and Roland had met for many years. As may have been gathered +during back pages, Roland did not hold his cousin in any particular +admiration, but he knew good manners (as he would himself have phrased +it) better than to show aught but civility now. In fact, Roland's +resentment was very much like that of a great many more of us--more +talk than fight. They shook hands, Roland helped him to take off the +scarf, and for a few moments they were absorbed in past interests. +Whatever Roland's old prejudices might have been he could not deny +that the Rev. William Yorke was good-looking as of yore; a tall, +slender, handsome man of four-and-thirty now, bearing about him the +stamp of a successful one; his fresh countenance was genial and kind, +although a touch of the noted Yorke pride sat on it. + +That pride, or perhaps a consciousness of his own superiority, for +William Yorke was a good man and thought well of himself for it, +prevented his being so frankly cordial with Roland as he might have +been. Roland's many faults in the old days (as the clergyman had +deemed them), and the one great fault which had brought humiliation to +him in two ways, were very present to his mind tonight. Slighting +remarks made by Gerald on his brother during the day, caused Mr. Yorke +to regard Roland as no better than a mauvais sujet, down in the world, +and not likely to get up in it. Gerald, on the contrary, he looked +upon as a successful and rising man. Mr. Yorke saw only the surface of +things, and could but judge accordingly. + +"How is Constance?" enquired Roland. "I sent her word not to marry +you, you know." + +"Constance is well and happy, and charged me to bring you a double +share of love and good remembrances," answered the clergyman, slightly +laughing. + +"Dear old Constance! I say," and Roland dropped his voice to a +mysterious whisper, "is not Annabel like her? One might think it the +same face." + +Mr. Yorke turned and glanced at Annabel--she was talking apart with +Gerald. "Yes, there is a good deal of resemblance," he carelessly said, +rather preoccupied with marvelling how the young man by his side came +to be so well dressed. + +Roland, his resentments shallow as the wind, and as fleet in passing, +would have shaken hands with Gerald as a matter of course. Gerald +managed to evade the honour without any apparent rudeness; he had the +room to greet and his silk scarf to unwind, and it really seemed to +Roland that it was quite natural he should be overlooked. + +"A magnificent funeral," spoke Gerald, glancing askance at Roland's +fine suit of mourning, every whit as handsome as his own. "Seven +mourning coaches-and-four, and no end of private carriages." + +"But I can't say much for their manners, they did not invite me," put +in Roland. "I'm older than you, Gerald." + +"Aw--ah--by a year or two," croaked Gerald in his worst tone, as to +affectation and drawl. "One has, I take it, to--aw--consider the +position of a--aw--party on these--aw--occasions, not how old they may +be." + +"Oh, of course," said Roland, some slight mockery in his good-natured +voice. "You are a man of fashion, going in for white-bait and iced +champagne, and I'm only an unsuccessful fellow returned like a bad +shilling, from Port Natal, and got to work hard for my bread and +cheese and beer." + +As the hour of William Yorke's return from the funeral was uncertain, +but expected to be a late one, it had been decided that the meal +prepared should be a tea-dinner--tea and cold meats with it. Gerald +was asked to remain for it. A few minutes, and they were seated in the +dining-room at a well-spread board, Mrs. Channing presiding; Hamish, +with his bright face, his genial hospitality, and his courtly manners, +facing her. Roland and Annabel were on one side, the clergyman and +Gerald on the other. Miss Nelly, on a high chair, wedged herself in +between her mamma and Roland. + +"Treason!" cried Hamish. "Who said little girls were to be at table?" + +"Mamma did," answered quick Nelly. "Mamma said I should have a great +piece of fowl and some tongue." + +"Provided you were silent, and not troublesome," put in Mrs. Channing. + +"I'll keep her quiet," said Roland. "Nelly shall whisper only to me." + +Miss Nelly's answer was to lay her pretty face close to Roland's. He +left some kisses on it. + +Gerald sat next to Hamish and opposite to Annabel. Remembering the +state of that gentleman's feelings towards Mr. Channing, it may be +wondered that he condescended to accept his hospitality. Two reasons +induced him to it. Any quarters were more acceptable than his own just +now, and he had no invitation for the evening, even had it been decent +to show himself in the great world an hour after leaving his uncle in +the grave. The other reason was, that he was just now working some ill +to Hamish, and, wished to appear extra friendly to avert suspicion. + +"I hope you have not dined, Roland," remarked Hamish, supplying him +with a large plate of pigeon-pie. + +"Well, I have, and I've not," replied Roland, beginning upon the +tempting viand. "I bought three sausage-rolls at one o'clock, down +east way: it would have been my dinner but for this." + +Gerald flicked his delicate cambric handkerchief out of his pocket and +held it for a moment to his nose, as if he were warding off some bad +odour that brought disgust to him. Sausage-rolls! Whether they, or the +unblushing candour of the avowal were the worst, he hardly knew. + +"Sausage-rolls must be delicacies!" he observed with a covert sneer. +And Roland looked across. + +"They are not as good as pigeon-pie. But they cost only twopence +apiece: and I had but sixpence with me. I have to regulate my appetite +according to my means," he added with a pleasant laugh and his mouth +full of crust and gravy. + +"Roland--as you have, in a manner touched upon the subject--I should +like to ask what you think of doing," interposed William Yorke, in a +condescending but kindly tone. "You seem to have no prospects +whatever." + +"Oh I shall get along," cheerfully answered Roland with a side glance +at Miss Channing. "Perhaps you'll see me in housekeeping in a year's +time from this." + +"In housekeeping!" + +"Yes: with a house of my own--and, something else. I'm not afraid. I +have begun to put my shoulder to the wheel in earnest. If I don't get +on, it shall not be from lack of working for it." + +"How have you begun to put your shoulder to the wheel?" + +"Well--I take home copying to do in my spare time after office hours. +I have been doing it in earnest over three weeks now." + +"And how much do you earn at it weekly?" continued William Yorke. + +A slight depression from its bright exultation passed over Roland's +ingenuous face. Hamish saw it, and laughed. Hamish was quite a +confidant, for Roland carried to him all his hopes and their tiresome +drawbacks. + +"I can tell you: I added it up," said Roland. "Taking the three weeks +on the average, it has been two-and-twopence a week." + +"Two-and-twopence a week!" echoed William Yorke, who had expected him +(after the laudatory introduction) to say at least two pounds two. +Roland detected the surprise and disappointment. + +"Oh, well, you know, William Yorke, a fellow cannot expect to make +pounds just at first. What with mistakes, when the writing has to be +begun all over again, and the paying for spoilt paper, which Brown +insists upon, two-and-twopence is not so much amiss. One has to make a +beginning at everything." + +"Are you a good hand at accounts?" enquired Mr. Yorke, possibly in the +vague notion that Roland's talents might be turned to something more +profitable than the copying of folios. + +"I ought to be," said Roland. "If the counting up, over and over and +over again, of those frying-pans I carried to Port Natal, could have +made a man an accountant, it must have made one of me. I used to be at +it morning and evening. You see, I thought they were going to sell for +about eight-and-twenty shillings apiece, out there: no wonder I often +reckoned them up." + +"And they did not!" + +"Law, bless you! In the first place nobody wanted frying-pans, and I +had to get a Natal store-keeper to house them in his place for me--I +couldn't leave them on the quay. But the time came that I was obliged +to sell them: they were eating their handles off." + +"With rust, I suppose." + +"Good gracious, no! with _rent_, not rust. The fellow (they are +regular thieves, over there) charged me an awful rent: so I told him +to put them into an auction. Instead of the eight-and-twenty shillings +each that I had expected to get, he paid me about eight-and-twenty +pence for the lot, case and all. But if you ask whether I am a ready +reckoner, William Yorke, I'm sure I must be that." + +The Rev. William Yorke privately thought there might be a doubt +upon the point. He fancied Roland's present prospects could not be +first-rate. + +"The copying is nothing but a temporary preliminary," observed Roland. +"I am waiting to get a place under Government. Vincent Yorke I expect +can put me up for one, now he has come into power; and I don't think +he'll want the will, though he did pass me over today." + +If ever face expressed condemnatory contempt, Gerald's did, as he +turned it fall on his brother. For, this very hope was being cherished +by himself. It was he who intended to profit by the interest of Sir +Vincent, to be exerted on his behalf. And to have a rival in the same +field, although one of so little account as Roland, was not agreeable. + +"The best thing _you_ can do, is to go off again to Port Natal," he +said roughly. "You'll never get along here." + +"But I intend to get along, Gerald. Once let me have a fair start--and +I have never had it yet--there's not many shall distance me." + +"What do you call a fair start?" asked Mrs. Channing, who always +enjoyed Roland's sanguine dreams. + +"A place where I can bring my abilities into use, and be remunerated +accordingly. I don't ask better than to work, and be paid for it. Only +let me earn a couple of hundreds a year to begin with, Mrs. Channing, +and you'd never hear me ask Vincent Yorke or anybody else for help +again." + +"You had not used to like the prospect of work, Roland," spoke William +Yorke. + +"But then I had not had my pride and laziness knocked out of me at +Port Natal." + +William Yorke lifted his eyes. "Did that happen to you?" + +"It did," emphatically answered Roland. "Oh, I shall get into +something good by-and-by, where my talents can find play. Of all +things, I should best like a farm." + +"A farm!" + +"A nice little farm. And if I had a few hundred pounds, I'd take one +tomorrow. Do you know anything of butter-making, Annabel?" he stopped +to ask, dropping his voice. + +Annabel bent her blushing face over her plate, and pretended not to +hear. Roland thought she was offended. + +"I didn't mean make it, you know," he whispered; "I'd not like to see +you do such a thing"--bringing his face back again to the general +company. "But it's of little good thinking of a farm, you see, William +Yorke, when there's no money to the fore." + +"You don't know anything of farming," said Mr. Yorke, inwardly +wondering whether this appeal to Annabel had meant anything, or was +only one of Roland's thoughtless interludes of speech. + +"Don't I?" said Roland; "I was on one for ever so long at Port Natal, +and had to drive pigs. It is astonishing the sight of experience a +fellow picks up over there, and the little he learns to live upon." + +"Because he has to do it, I suppose." + +"That's the secret. I am earning a pound a week now, regular pay, and +make it do for all my wants. You'd not think it, would you, William +Yorke?" + +"Certainly not, to look at you," said William Yorke, with a smile. +"Are clothes included?" + +"Oh, Carrick goes bail for all that. I'm afraid he'll find the bills +running up; but a fellow, if he's a gentleman, must look decent. I'm +as careful as I can be, and sit in my shirtsleeves at home when it's +hot." + +"Lady Augusta has visions of your walking about London streets in a +coat out at elbows. I think it troubles her." + +Roland paused, stared, and then started up in impulsive contrition, +nearly pulling off the table-cloth. + +"What a thoughtless booby I was, never to let her know! The minute you +get down home, you go to her, William Yorke. Tell her how it is--that +I have the run of Carrick's people for clothes, boots, hats, and all +the rest of it. This suit came home at eight this morning, with an +apology for not sending it last night--the fellow thought I might be +going to the funeral--and a sensible thought too! Look at it!" +stretching out his arms, and turning himself about, that Mr. Yorke +might get a comprehensive view of the superfine frock-coat and silken +linings. "I'm never worse dressed than this: only that my things are +not on new every day. You tell the mother this, William Yorke." + +He had not done it in vanity; of that Roland possessed as little as +any one; but in eager, earnest desire to reassure his mother, and +atone to her for his ungrateful forgetfulness. Stooping for his table +napkin, he at down again. + +"Yes, I am well-dressed, though I do have to work. And for recreation, +there's this house to come to; and dear old Hamish and Mrs. Channing +receive me with gladness and make much of me, just as though I had +always been good, and Nelly jumps into my arms." + +"When do you mean to come to Helstonleigh?" + +"Never," answered Roland, with prompt decision. "As I can't go back as +I wanted to--rich--I shall not go at all. What I wish to ask is, when +Arthur Channing is coming up here?" + +"Arthur Channing! I cannot tell." + +"It is a shame of people to get a fellow's hopes up, and then damp +them. Arthur wrote me word--oh, a month ago--that he was coming to +London on business for old Galloway. Close nearly upon that, comes a +second letter, saying Galloway was not sure that he should require to +send him. I _should_ like to serve him out." + +William Yorke smiled. "Serve out Arthur?" + +"Arthur! I'd like to draw Arthur round the old city in a car of +triumph, as we used to chair our city members. I mean that wretch of a +Galloway. He ought to be taken up for an impostor. Why did he go and +tell Arthur he should send him to London, if he didn't mean to?" + +Gerald Yorke let his fork fall in a semi-passion, and nearly chipped +the beautiful plate of Worcester china: was _all_ the conversation to +be monopolised by Roland and his miserable interests? It was high time +to interfere. Picking up the fork with an air, he cleared his throat. + +"Sir Vincent comes into about four thousand a-year, entailed property. +We went in to hear the will read by old Greatorex. It's not much, is +it?" + +"Not to one reared to the notions Vincent Yorke has been," said +Hamish. "But he has more than that, I presume?" + +"Some odds and ends, I believe: I asked Greatorex. And there's the +little homestead down in Surrey. Sir Richard's liabilities die with +him. Perhaps he had wiped them off beforehand?" + +"I'm sure he had," said Roland, with good-natured warmth. "Oh, we hear +a good deal in our office. As to four thousand a-year being little for +one man, you should have been at Port Natal, Gerald, and you'd +estimate it differently." + +"To a man about town, like myself, it seems a starvation pittance, +considering what Sir Vincent will have to do out of it," returned +Gerald loftily, speaking to any at table, rather than to his brother. + +"That's just it," said Roland. "If I were a man about town, and had +not been out to Port Natal and learnt the value of money, it might +seem so to me. Dick won't find it enough, I daresay. I should think a +rent of four hundred a-year riches!" + +Gerald curled his lip. "No doubt; and some pigs to drive." + +"I'd like a pig, Roland," cried Nelly Channing, turning to him, and +unconsciously creating a diversion. "A pretty little pig, with blue +ribbons." + +"As pretty as you," said Roland, squeezing her. "You mean a +guinea-pig, little stupid. As to driving pigs, Gerald--it's not a very +good employment of course; but you see I had to do what I was put +to--or starve." + +"I'd rather starve than do it," retorted Gerald. "And so would any one +with the instincts of a gentleman." + +"You only go out there and try what starving is; you'd t good-humour +ell a different tale," said Roland, maintaining his good-humour. +"Starving there means starving." + +Some one of those turns in conversation, which occur so naturally, +brought round the subject to Mr. Ollivera. Roland, imparting sundry +revelations of his home-life at Mrs. Jones's--or, as he called her +still, Mrs. Jenkins--mentioned the clergyman's name. + +"Don't you mean to call and see him?" he asked of William Yorke. +"You'd better." + +But Mr. Yorke declined. "My time in London is so very short," he said; +"I go home tomorrow. Besides, I have really no acquaintance with Mr. +Ollivera. We never met but on one occasion." + +"When you lent him your surplice," spoke Roland. And William Yorke +looked up in surprise. + +"What do you know about it?" + +"Oh, I know a great deal," returned Roland. "I say--why did you not +attend that night yourself? You promised." + +"I did not promise. All I said was that I would consider of it. Upon +reflection, I thought it better not to go. The circumstances were very +peculiar; and the Dean, had he come to know of it, might have taken me +to task." + +"Not he," said independent Roland. "The Dean's made of sterling gold." + +"What sort of a chanter does Tom make?" enquired Hamish. + +"Very fair; very fair, indeed," replied William Yorke, some patronage +in his tone, meant for the absent young minor canon. Consciously vain +of his own excellence in chanting, Mr. Yorke could but accord +comparative praise to Tom Channing's. The vanity was not without +cause; Mr. Yorke's sweet and sonorous voice was wont to fill the +aisles of the old cathedral with its melody. + +Just as the tea was over, one of the servants came in with a folded +weekly review hot from the press on her silver waiter, and presented +it to her master. Hamish opened it with a slight apology, and was +glancing at its pages, when he folded it again with a sudden movement +and quietly put it in his pocket. His sight, in the moment's happy +confusion, partially faded; a bright hectic lighted his cheek; his +whole heart leaped up within him, as with a rushing, blissful sense of +realized hope. For he had seen that a review of his book was there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +AS IRON INTO THE SOUL. + + +The change in his face was remarkable. It was as though a blight had +passed over it and withered the hopeful life out. + +He sat with the journal in his hand--the authoritative "Snarler"--and +read the cruel lines over and over again. When, in the solitude of his +own study, they first met his eager eye, skimming them rapidly, and +their purport was gathered in almost at a glance, a kind of sick +faintness seized upon his heart, and he hastily put away the paper as +though it were some terrible thing he dared not look further upon. + +The shock was awful--and the word is not used in its often light +sense; the disappointment something not to be described. After the +departure of his guests, Roland and Gerald, and William Yorke had gone +by his own wish to take home Annabel and to make a late call on Mrs. +Bede Greatorex--if haply that fashionable dame might be found at +home--Hamish Channing had passed into his study; and, there, alone +with himself and his emotions, he once more unfolded the paper. All +the while he had sat with it in his pocket, a sweet tumultuous hope +had been stirring his bosom; he could hardly forbear, in his eagerness +to realize it, telling them to make haste and depart. And when they +were really going, it seemed that they were a month over it. He stood +up wishing them goodnight. + +"By the way, Hamish, I should think your book would soon be getting +its reviews," spoke crafty Gerald, who had seen the journal brought +in, and knew what was in it. "I hope you'll get good ones, old +fellow." + +And the wish was spoken with so much apparent genuineness, the tone of +the voice had in it so vast an amount of gushing feeling, that Hamish +gratefully wrung the offered hand. After that, even had he been of a +less ingenuous nature, he would have suspected the whole world of +abusing his book, rather than Gerald Yorke. + +Shut up in his study, the lamp beside him, he unfolded the paper with +trembling expectation, his heart beating with happiness. It was one of +those moments, and they come in all our lives, which must stamp itself +on the memory for ever. He looked, and looked. And then put the pages +away in a kind of terror. + +Never, in this age of bitter reviews, had a more bitter one than that +been penned. But for his intense unsuspicion, for his own upright +single-mindedness, he might possibly have recognized Gerald Yorke's +slashing style. Gerald, as its writer, never once occurred to him. +After awhile, when the first brunt of the shock had passed--and it was +almost as a shock of death--he took up the paper again, and read the +article through. + +His hair grew damp with perspiration; his face burnt with a hot shame. +With this apparently candid, but most damnatory review before his +eyes, it seemed to him that his book must be indeed bad. The critique +was ably written, and it attacked him from all sides and on all +points. Gerald Yorke had taken pains with that as he had never taken +pains with any article before. It had been, so to say, days in +construction. One portion would be altered today, one tomorrow; and +the result was that it _told_. The chief characteristic of the whole +was sarcastic mockery. The scholarship of the book was attacked, (and +that scholarship--that is, of its writer--formed the chief point of +envy in a covert corner of Gerald's heart); its taste, its style, its +every thing. The pen had been steeped five fathoms deep in gall. +Rounded periods spoke of the work's utter worthlessness, and +affectionately warned the public against reading it, with quite +fatherly care. It called the author an impudent upstart; it demanded +to know what he meant by fostering such a book on the public; it +wondered how he had found a publisher; it almost prayed the gods, that +preside over literary careers, to deliver unhappy readers from James +Channing. Abuse and ridicule; ridicule and abuse; they rang the +changes one upon another. Hamish read; he turned back and read again; +and the fatal characters burnt themselves into his brain as with a +ruthless fire. + +What a reward it was! Speaking only as a recompense for his devotion +and labour, leaving aside for the moment the higher considerations, +how cruel was the return! The devoted lad, read of in history, +concealed a fox in his bosom, and it repaid him by gnawing at his +vitals. That reward was not more remorselessly cruel than this. Where +was the use of Hamish Channing's patient industry, his persevering +endurance, his burning the midnight candle, to bring forth _this_ +fruit? To what end the never-ceasing toil and care? While Gerald Yorke +had been flourishing in society, Hamish Channing was toiling. Burning +his candles, so to say, at both ends! The unwearied industry, the +patient continuance in labour, the ever-buoyant, trustful hope!--all +had been his. + +Does the public realize what it is, I wonder, to exercise this +brain-work day by day, and often also night by night, week after week, +month after month, year after year? A book is put into the hands of a +reading man--or say a woman, if you will--and he devours it with +ardour or coolness, more or less of either as the case may be, and +makes his comments afterwards with complaisance, and says the book is +a nice book, and seems almost to think it has been brought out for his +special delectation. But does he ever cast a reflection on the toil +that book has cost the writer? Does he look up to him with even a +_thought_ of gratitude? Generally speaking, no. In the midst, perhaps, +of very adverse circumstances, of long-continued sickness, of +headache, heartache, many aches; when the inward spirit is fainting at +life's bitter troubles, and it would seem in vain to struggle more, +the labour must yet be done. Look at Hamish Channing--his is no ideal +case. His day's work over, he got to his work--the night's--and wrote +on, until his mind and body were alike weary. While others played, he +toiled; when others were abroad at their banquetings and revellings, +idling away their hours in what the world calls society, and Gerald +Yorke making one amidst them, he was shut up in his room, labouring on +persistently. And this was his reward! + +The best energies of his power and intellect had Hamish Channing given +to the book: the great gift of genius, which had certainly been +bestowed largely upon him, was exercised and brought to bear. No merit +to him for that; he could not help exercising it. It appeared to him, +this writing for his fellow men, to be the one special end for which +he was sent into the world--where every man has his appointed and +peculiar aptitude for someone calling or duty, though it happens that +a vast many never find out their own until too late. A man reared, +as had been James Channing, to good; anxious to live here in the +single-minded fulfilment of every duty, using the world only as a +passage to a better, can but write as a responsible agent; whether he +may be working at a religious tract or a story of fiction, he does it +as to his Creator, imploring day by day that he may be helped in it. +Had Hamish been required to write without that sense of responsibility +upon him, he would have put aside his pen. + +And the disappointment! the rude, pitiless, condemning shock! It might +be that such was necessary; that it had been sent direct from heaven. +The least sinful man on earth may have need of such discipline. + +Again Hamish read the article from beginning to end. Read, and re-read +it. It was as if the lines possessed the fatal fascination of the +basilisk, attracting him against his will. He writhed under the +executioner's knife, while he submitted to it. The book was a good and +brilliant work, betraying its genius in every line, well conceived, +well plotted, ably written. It was one of those that take the whole +imagination of the reader captive; one that a man is all the better +for reading, and rises up from with a subdued spirit, hushed breath, +and a glowing heart. While enchaining man's deepest interest, it yet +insensibly led his thoughts to Heaven. Simple though it was in its +pure Saxon diction, its sentiments were noble, generous, and exalted. +Not a thought was there to offend, not a line that, for its parity, +might not have been placed in the hands of his child. Modest, as all +gifted with true genius are, yet possessing (for that must always be), +a latent consciousness of his great power, Hamish had looked forward +for success to his book, as surely as he looked for Heaven. That it +could be a failure, he had simply never thought of; that it should be +badly received, ridiculed, condemned, written down, had not entered +his imagination. Had he been told such might be the result, he would +have quietly answered that it was impossible. + +In all matters where the minds and feelings, the inward, silent hopes +and fears, are deeply touched, it cannot be but that we are +sensitively alive to the opinions of our fellow men, and swayed by +their judgment. As Hamish Channing read and re-read, learning the +cruel sentences almost by rote, his heart failed within him. For the +time being, he thought he must have erred in supposing the book so +good; that it must be a foolish and mistaken book, deserving only of +their sharp criticism; and a sense of humiliation, than which nothing +could be more intensely painful, took possession of his spirit. + +But the belief could not remain. The mood changed again. The book +resumed nearly its estimated place in his mind, and the sense of +humiliation was superseded by the smarting conviction of cruel +injustice. What had he or his book done that they should be so +reviled? + +"Lord, thou knowest all things! surely I have not deserved this!" +irrepressibly broke from the depths of his anguish. + +No, he had not deserved it. As some others have not, who yet have had +to bear it. It is one of the world's hard lessons, one that very few +are appointed to learn. Injustice and evil and oppression exist in the +world, and must exist until its end. Only then shall we understand +wherefore they are permitted. Pardon, reader, if a line or two seem to +be repeated. The many months of toil, the patient night-labour, that +but for the hope-spring rising in the buoyant heart might have been +found too wearing; the self-denial ever exercised; the weary night +watching and working--all had been thrown back upon Hamish Channing, +and rendered, as it were, nugatory. Try and picture to yourselves +what this labour is; its aspirations of reward, its hopes of +appreciation--and for a wickedly disposed man, or simply a carelessly +indifferent man, or a vain, presumptuous man, or a man who has some +petty spite to gratify against author or publisher, or a rival +reviewer, or a man that writes but in wanton idleness, to dash it down +with a few strokes of a pen! + +Such things have been. They will be again. But if Gerald Yorke, and +others like him, would consider how they violate the divine law of +enjoined kindness, it might be that the pen would now and then pause. + +Would Gerald have to answer for it at the Great Day of Reckoning? Ah, +that is a question very little thought of; one perhaps difficult to +answer. He had set himself deliberately in his foolish envy, in his +ill-conditioned spirit, to work ill to Hamish Channing: to put down +and write down the book that he knew was depended on to bring back its +return, that was loved and cherished almost as life. It was within the +range of possibility that he might work more ill than he bargained +for. Heaven is not in the habit of saying to man by way of reminder +when he gets up in a morning, "I am looking at you:" but it has told +us such a thing as that every secret word and thought and action shall +be brought to light, whether it be good or whether it be evil. Gerald +ignored that, after the fashion of this busy world; and was perfectly +self-complacent under the ignoring. + +Only upon such a mind as Hamish Channing's, with his nervous +attributes of genius, his refined sensitiveness, could the review have +brought home its worst bitterness. Fortunately such minds are very +rare. Gerald Yorke had little conception of the extent of its fruit. +_He_ would have set on and sworn off his anger, and called the writer, +who could thus stab in the dark, a false coward, and sent him by +wishes to all kinds of unorthodox places, and vowed aloud to his +friends that he should like to horsewhip or shoot him. Thus the brunt, +with him, would have been worked off; never so much as touched the +vital feelings, if Gerald possessed any. It was another thing with +Hamish Channing. He could almost have died, rather than have spoken of +the attack to any living man; and if forced to it, as we are sometimes +forced to unwelcome things, it would have brought the red blush of +shame to his sensitive brow, to his shrinking spirit. + +He sat on; on, with his aching heart. One hand was pressed upon his +chest: a dull pain had seated itself there. Never again, as it seemed +to him, should he look up from the blow. More and more the cruelty and +the injustice struck upon him. Does it so strike upon you, reader? The +book was not perfection (I never met with one that was, in spite of +what the reviews chose to affirm of Mr. Gerald Yorke's), but it was at +least written in an earnest, truthful spirit, to the utmost of the +abilities God had given him. How had it invoked this requital? Hamish +pondered the question, and could not answer it. What had he done to be +shown up to the public; a butt for any, that would, to pitch scorn at? +There was no appeal; there could be no redress. The book had been held +forth to the world--at least to the thousands of it that would read +the "Snarler"--as a bad and incapable book, one they must avoid as the +work of a miserably presumptive and incapable man. + +A slight movement in the next room, and Mrs. Channing came in with +Nelly. Miss Nelly, in consideration of the late substantial tea, had +not been sent to bed at the customary hour. Hamish slipped the review +inside his table-desk, and greeted them with a smile, sweet-tempered +as ever under the blow. But his wife saw that some change lay on his +face. + +"Is anything the matter, Hamish? You look--worn; as if you had +received some ill news." + +"Do I? I am a little tired, Ellen. It has been very hot today." + +"I thought you were not going to work tonight." + +"Oh, I'm not working. Well, young lady, what now?" + +Miss Nelly had climbed on his knees. She had been brought in to say +goodnight. + +"When's the ship coming home, papa?" + +He suddenly bent down and hid his face on the child's bright one. +Heaven alone knew what the moment's suffering was and how he contrived +not to betray it. + +"Will it come tomorrow, papa?" + +"We shall see, darling. I don't know." + +The subdued, patient tone had something of hopelessness in it. Mrs. +Channing thought he must be very tired. + +"Come, Nelly," she said. "It is late, you know." + +He kissed the child tenderly as ever, but so quietly, and whispered a +prayer for God to bless her; his tone sounding like one of subdued +pain, almost as though his heart were breaking. And Nelly went dancing +out, talking of the ship and the good things it was to bring. + +Quite immediately, a gentleman was shown in. It was the publisher of +the book. Late though the hour was, he had come in some perturbation, +bringing a copy of the "Snarler." + +"Have you any enemy, Mr. Channing?" was nearly the first question he +asked, when he found Hamish had seen the article. + +"Not one in the wide world, so far as I know." + +"The review of your book is so remarkably unjust, so entirely at +variance with fact and truth, that I should say only an enemy could +have done it," persisted the publisher. "Look, besides, at the rancour +of its language, its evident animus; I scarcely ever read so +aggravated an attack." + +But still Hamish could only reiterate his conviction. "I have no +enemy." + +"Well, it is a great pity; a calamity, in short. When once an author's +reputation is made and he is a favourite with the public, bad reviews +cannot harm him: but to a first book, where the author is unknown, +they are sometimes fatal." + +"Yes, I suppose they are," acquiesced Hamish. + +"We must wait now for the others, Mr. Channing. And hope that they +will be the reverse of this. But it is a sad thing--and, I must say, a +barefaced injustice." + +Nothing more could be said, nothing done. The false review was in the +hands of the public, and Hamish and his publisher were alike powerless +to arrest or remedy the evil. The gentleman went out, leaving Hamish +alone. + +Alone with his blow and its anguish. He felt like one who, living all +night in a sweet dream, has been rudely awakened to some terrible +reality. The sanguine hopes of years were dashed away; life's future +prospects had broken themselves up. If ever the iron entered into the +soul of man, it had surely passed into that of James Channing. + +The injustice told upon him worse than all; the unmerited stab-wound +would damage him for aye. In his bosom's bitter strife, he almost +dared to ask how men could be permitted thus to prey one upon another, +and not be checked by Heaven's lightning. But, to that there might be +no answer: others have asked it before him. + + +"So I returned, and considered all the oppressions that are done under +the sun: and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had +no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power: but +they had no comforter. Wherefore I praised the dead which are already +dead more than the living which are yet alive." + + +Involuntarily, with a strange force, these words passed through the +mind of James Channing. + +But the wise King of Israel--and God had given him more than earthly +wisdom--could give no explanation of why this should be. + + + + + + +PART THE THIRD. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. +DURING THE AUTUMN. + + +This must be called the third part of the story, if we may reckon the +short commencing prologue as the first. The year had gone on to +October, and that month was quickly passing. + +The lapse of time, some three or four months, had not brought any +change worth recording: people and things were in the main very much +in the position that they had been: but a slight summary of progress +must be given. + +Bede Greatorex had been on the wing. In early August he went abroad +with his wife, choosing Switzerland as his first halting-ground. Bede +had proposed some place (if that could be found) less frequented by +the English; and Mrs. Bede had retorted that if he wanted to vegetate +in an outlandish desert, he might go to it alone. In the invariable +kindness and consideration Bede observed to her, even to her whims, he +yielded: and they went off in the commotional wake of a shoal of +staring tourists, with another commotional shoal behind them. + +Mr. Greatorex it was who had insisted on the holiday for Bede. "You +are getting more incapable of hard work every day," he plainly said to +him: "a rest will, I hope, restore you; and take it you must." Bede +yielded. That he was very much in need of a change of some sort, he +knew. And of rest also--if he could only get it. But the latter might +be more hard to obtain than Mr. Greatorex suspected or imagined. + +So they went to Switzerland first: Bede and his wife, and her maid +Tallet. Bede thought the party would have been a vast deal more +compact and comfortable without the lady's-maid, not to speak of the +additional expense, and he gently hinted as much. The hint was quite +lost on Mrs. Bede, who took not the smallest notice of it. In point of +fact, that lady (besides being incorrigibly idle, never doing an +earthly thing for herself) had absolute need of artistic aid in the +matter of making-up: face and shape and hair and attire alike +requiring daily renovation. From Switzerland they went rushing about +to other places, not at all necessary to note, and got back home the +middle of October, after rather more than two months' absence; being +followed by nearly a fourgon of fashions from Paris: for that +seductive capital had been their last resting-place, and Mrs. Bede had +found its magazins as seductive as itself. Bede winced at the cheques +he had to give. + +Mr. Greatorex started with alarm when he saw his son. They got home at +night, having come up by the tidal train from Folkestone, which had +been somewhat delayed in consequence of the boat's rough passage. +During their absence, it had been the quietest and happiest home +imaginable: Mr. Greatorex, Annabel Channing, and the little girl +forming it; Frank Greatorex having holiday as well as Bede. For +visitors they had Henry William Ollivera and Roland Yorke, one or the +other dropping in to tea twice or thrice a week. Mr. Greatorex was a +very father to Annabel; and Miss Jane, subjected to regularity and +desirable influences only, was on her best behaviour. The old lawyer, +in the happy quiet, the relief conferred by the absence of noise and +Mrs. Bede, thought the good old times must be coming back again. + +All three were sitting together in the drawing-room when Bede and his +wife got in. The chandelier's rays flashed full on Bede's face, and +Mr. Greatorex started. Far from his son's having derived benefit from +the prolonged tour, he looked worse than ever; his cheeks hollow and +hectic, his face altogether worn. Perhaps for the first time it struck +Mr. Greatorex, as he glanced from one to the other, that _she_ +likewise looked thin and worn, with restless eyes and hollow cheeks, +hectic also. But in the hectic there was this difference: Bede's was +natural, hers was put on. What would they have been without the rouge? + +Bede _said_ he was better. When Mr. Greatorex spoke seriously to him +on the following morning, recommending that there should be a +consultation, Bede laughed. He declared that the rest from business +had done him an immense deal of good. Thin? Oh of course he was thin. +So was Louisa--did Mr. Greatorex not notice it?--Tallet was the same, +for the matter of that: they had gone whirling about from place to +place, a little too fast, he supposed, making a toil of pleasure. And +then the dreadful sea passage!--of course they looked the worse last +night, but they were both all right this morning. + +So spoke Bede, and went to work with a will: really with some of his +old energy. He appeared fresh and tolerably well after the night's +rest; and Mr. Greatorex felt reassured. + +Gerald Yorke was another who had taken holiday. Gerald had managed to +get an invitation to cruise in the Honourable Mr. Fuller's yacht; and +Gerald, with two or three other invited guests, went careering off in +it for the space of six weeks. Before starting, he had fully +accomplished his reviewing work with regard to Hamish Channing's +book--but that can be left until later. Gerald enjoyed himself +amazingly. The yacht put into foreign ports on occasion, and they got +a few days' land cruise. The honourable owner treated his friends +right royally, and Gerald had not felt so much at ease since he was a +boy. By a slice of luck, which Gerald hardly believed in at the time, +he had induced Vincent Yorke to lend him fifty pounds before starting, +and he thought himself laudably generous in dividing this with his +wife. + +"Now mind, Winny," he said to her on the morning of his departure, "I +shall be away about five weeks. It can't take you five pounds a week +to live and pay rent, so I shall expect you to have a good sum in hand +when I get back. I'll drop you a letter now and then, but you'll not +be able to write to me, as we shall be moving about from place to +place just as the wind or mood takes us." + +Therefore, on the score of his wife and children, Gerald was entirely +at ease; and he quite expected, after his charge to Winny, that she +would have something like eight or ten pounds left of the twenty-five; +at least, that she ought to have. He was out of reach of creditors +too; the future he did not allow to trouble him (he never did), and +Gerald gave himself wholly up to the enjoyment of the present. + +Little did Gerald Yorke suspect, as he leaned over the side of the +yacht in seductive indolence, smoking his cigar and sipping his iced +Burgundy, that poor Winny's money had come to an end before the second +week was over. It might not have cost him a single moment's care if he +had known it, for Gerald was one upon whom no earthly person's trouble +made the smallest impression, unless it touched him personally. +Effectually out of the way himself, Winny might just have done as she +best could. Gerald would have wished he was at hand to tell her she +deserved a shaking for her folly, and dismissed the matter from his +mind. + +The way the money went so soon, was this. Gerald's man-servant in +chambers, just as glad as his master to get a respite from troublesome +creditors, who went well nigh to wear his patience out, informed one +of that ill-used body of men where Mr. Gerald Yorke had gone, on the +very day following the departure--"Cruising over the sea in a lord's +yacht to foreign parts, and likely to be away till winter." Of course +this struck the applicant dumb. He happened to know that Gerald Yorke +had a wife and family in town, and he set himself forthwith to learn +their address; which he found not very difficult of accomplishment. +His own debt was not a very heavy one, rather short of six pounds. +Down he went, demanded an interview with Mrs. Yorke, and so scared her +senses away by insisting upon instant payment there and then, that +Winny handed out the money. Other creditors got to know of this; they +went down too, and insisted upon the same prompt payment on their +score. Winny had many virtues no doubt, but there was one she could +certainly not boast of--courage. In all that related to debt and its +attendant annoyances, she was timid as a fawn. To be pressed for an +account and not pay it if she had the money in her possession, was +simply impossible to Winifred Yorke. But this I think has been hinted +at before. When the last fraction of the twenty-five pounds had left +her (in a payment of four pounds ten to a stern-looking, but by no +means abusive man). Winny burst into tears: saying aloud she did not +expect her husband home for weeks, did not know where to write to him, +and had not a sixpence left for herself and her poor little children. +Upon that the man put the half-sovereign back into Mrs. Yorke's hand +without a word, and departed. + +So there was Winny, literally without a sixpence, save for this ten +shillings, and Gerald not quite two weeks gone. But for Hamish +Channing and his wife, she might really have starved; most certainly +she would have been turned out of doors; for the landlady, nearly +tired of Mr. Gerald Yorke's uncertain finances, had never kept her. +Miss Cook said she could not afford to let rooms and get no rent; and +no doubt that was true. Away went Winny with her grief and +helplessness to Mrs. Channing. It was an awkward dilemma, an +embarrassing appeal, and Ellen Channing felt it as such. On the one +hand there was this poor helpless woman, and her not much more +helpless children: on the other, Ellen was aware that Hamish had +already aided her far more extensively than he could afford. + +Oh, it was true. Many and many a little luxury (Gerald would have +called it a necessary) that Hamish required in his failing health--for +it had begun to fail--did he debar himself of for the sake of Gerald +Yorke's wife and children. His heart ached for them. He took not the +smallest pleasure, he often walked where he ought to have rode, he +would eat breed and cheese for his lunch, or a dry roll where he +should have had a chop, that he might give the saved money to Mrs. +Yorke. In those golden dreams of fame and fortune, when his book was +approaching completion, and the realization of its returns had +apparently been drawing very near (months ago now, it seemed to be, +since they were dreamt out), Hamish had cherished a little delightful +plot: of setting Gerald on his legs again anonymously--of putting him +straight with the world, and perhaps something over, that he might see +his way at least a little clearer towards a more satisfactory state of +household matters for himself and Winny jointly. This had been +frustrated through the book's being written down, as already partially +told of, and a corner of the grief in Hamish Manning's weary heart was +sighing itself out for Gerald's sake. Hamish said not a word of the +disappointment to a living soul--we are speaking now in regard to +Gerald--Ellen had been his sole confidant, and he did not allude to it +even to her. To Hamish, it seemed that there was only the more +necessity for helping Gerald, in administering to the necessities of +his forsaken wife. + +And Gerald's wife had invented a pleasant fable. As the weeks went on +after Winny came to London, it was not possible but that Gerald should +see someone must help her with money. Put to it for an excuse, one day +that Gerald asked the question point blank, and not daring to say it +was Hamish or Ellen Channing, Winny declared it was her mother. Gerald +stared a little. Mrs. Eales lived somewhere down in Wales, and existed +on an annuity of sixty pounds a-year. But though he wondered how the +good old mère contrived to help Winny so much, or in fact at all, he +inquired no farther. She might be reducing herself to a crust and a +glass of water a day; might be, for aught he knew, forestalling her +income wholesale; Gerald was complacently content to let it be so. + +And thus matters had been going on: Winny in want always, and Hamish +taxing himself and his needs to help her. In September, the office he +served offered him a fortnight's holiday, thinking he looked as if he +required it. Hamish thanked them, but declined. He had no spirits for +taking holiday, and the helping of Gerald's family left him no funds +for it. + +And when Winny burst into Mrs. Channing's one afternoon, with this +last confession, that she was utterly penniless, save for the +half-sovereign the man threw back, and should be so until Gerald came +home, weeks hence, telling it in the hearing of her three little +girls, her face woe-begone, her tears and sobs fit to choke her, Ellen +Channing felt annoyed and vexed. Mixed with her compassion for +Gerald's wife, there was a feeling that they had already done more for +her than they were justified in doing. Ellen would have liked the +fortnight's holiday very much indeed on her own score. A suspicion had +begun to dawn upon her that her husband was not so strong as he might +be, and one morning she spoke to him. It was only the London heat that +made him feel weak, Hamish answered, perhaps really thinking so. Very +well, argued Ellen, then there was all the more necessity for getting +out of it to the seaside for a change. And he would have been glad +enough to take the change had funds allowed it. Considering that the +small amounts of help incessantly applied to the need of Mrs. Gerald +Yorke would have taken them to the seaside ever so many times over, +Mrs. Channing had _felt_ it. And to have this fresh demand made, when +she had supposed Winny was safe for some weeks to come, to hear the +avowal that she wanted money for everything--food and lodging and +washing and sundries, did strike Mrs. Channing as being a little too +much. + +Ellen Channing had been, as Ellen Huntley, reared to liberality. She +was large-hearted by nature, open-handed by habit. To refuse to +continue to aid Mrs. Yorke in her helpless need, would have gone +against her inclination, but to continue to supply her at any cost was +almost equally so. What to do, and what Winny would do, she could not +think. The first thing was, to take Winny's things off and comfort her +for the rest of the day; the next was to send the children to Miss +Nelly in the nursery; the third to wait till Hamish came in. + +He arrived at the usual hour, his face a little brighter than it had +been of late. However James Channing might strive to conceal the +curious pain--not physical yet, only mental--always gnawing at his +heart-strings, and to put on a brave smile before his wife and the +world, she detected that all was not right with him. Leaving Winny, on +the plea that she would see whether the children were at tea yet, Mrs. +Channing followed her husband into his dressing-room. + +He had just dried his hands when she entered, and was turning to the +glass to brush his hair. She stood by while telling him of Winny's +piteous state, and the impossibility, as it seemed, that they could do +much for her. + +"Yes we can, Ellen," he said, turning to her with his bright smile +when the recital was over. "I have had a slice of luck today." + +"A slice of luck!" + +"Even so. You remember Martin Pope, poor fellow, who somehow got down +in the world at Helstonleigh, and borrowed a little money from me to +get him up in it again?" + +"Yes, I remember. It was sixty pounds." + +"Well, Ellen, he has been rather long getting up, but it is really +coming at last. He called in at the office this morning, and repaid me +the half of the loan. Poor Martin! he is honourable as the day. He +says the not being able to repay me when the bank went worried him +terribly; and all the more so, because I never bothered him." + +"Did you ask him for it then?" + +"No. I was sure he had it not in his power to refund, and so left him +in peace. Ellen, if I were dying for money--if I saw my wife and child +dying for it--I think I could not be harsh with those who owed it me, +where I knew they were helpless in means, though good in will, to +pay." + +He had put down the brush, and was taking a small packet of notes from +his pocketbook, laughing rather gaily. + +"I'm like a schoolboy showing his treasures. See, love. Six five-pound +notes. We can help Mrs. Winny." + +Ellen's fair fresh face broke into dimples. "And we can take a holiday +too, Hamish?" + +"Ah no. At least I can't. That's over." + +"But why?" + +"Because when I declined the holiday, the clerk under me was allowed +to take one, and another of them is ill. I must stick to my post this +year." + +The dimples hid themselves: the expectant face clouded over. He +noticed it. + +"I am very sorry, Ellen. If you would like to go, and take Nelly and +nurse----" + +"Oh, Hamish, you know I would not," she interrupted, vexed that he +should even suggest such a thing. "I only care for it for your sake; +for the rest it would be to you." + +"I don't care about it for myself, love." + +He drew her to him as she passed on her way to quit the room, and +kissed her fondly. Ellen let her hand rest for a moment on his neck; +she never looked at him now, but a feeling of apprehension darted +through her, that he was not as strong as he ought to be. + +Hamish closed the door after her, finished his toilet, and then stood +looking from the open window. The world had changed to him for some +little time now; the sunshine had gone out of it. That one bitter, +cruel review, had been followed up by others more cruel, if possible, +more bitter. The leading papers were all against him. How he battled +with it at the time _and made no sign_, he hardly knew. To heart and +spirit it was a death-blow; for both seemed alike to have had their +very life crushed out. He went on his way still, fulfilling every duty +every daily obligation in kindly courteousness as of yore, believing +that the world saw nothing. In good truth the world did not. Save that +his sunny smile had always a tinge of sadness in it, that he seemed to +get a trifle thinner, that his voice, though sweet as ever, was low +and subdued, the world noticed nothing. Ellen alone saw it; saw that a +blight had fallen upon the inward spirit. + +But she little guessed to what extent. Hamish himself did not. All he +knew was, that a more cruel blow had been dealt to him than he had +supposed it possible to be experienced in this life. When by chance +his eye would fall on a volume of his work, his very soul seemed to +turn sick and faint. It was as if he had cast his whole hopes upon a +die, and lost it. His dreams of fame, his visions of that best reward, +appreciation, had faded away, and left him nothing but darkness. +Darkness, and worse than darkness; for out of it loomed mortification +and humiliation and shame. The contrast alone went well nigh to kill +him. In the pursuit of his high artistic ideal, he had lived and moved +and almost had his being. The ills of life had touched him not; the +glorious, expectant aspirations that made his world, shielded him from +life's frowns. It is ever so with those rare few whom the Divine gift +of genius has made its own. As the grand hope of fruition drew nearer +and nearer, it had seemed to Hamish, at moments, that realization had +actually come. The laurel-crown seemed to rest upon his head; the +longed-for prize all but touched his expectant lips. No wonder, when +the knell of all this light and hope and blessedness boomed suddenly +out, that the better part of Hamish Channing's life, his vitality, +went with it. + +He worked on still. His papers for the magazines were got up as +before, for he could not afford to let them cease. Gerald Yorke, +borrowing here, borrowing there, might go careering off in yachts, and +pass weeks in idleness, sending work and care to his friend the Deuce; +but Hamish and Gerald were essentially different men. Even this +evening, after Hamish should have dined, he must get to his toilsome +work. It was felt as a toil now: the weary pain, never quitting his +bosom, took all energy from him. + +He stood holding the window-curtain in his rather fragile hand; more +fragile than it used to be. The sky that evening was very lovely. +Bright purple clouds, bordered with an edge of shining gold, were +crowding the west; a brighter sheet of gold underneath them seemed as +if it must be flooding the other side of the world, to which the sun +was swiftly passing, with its dazzling dawn of burnished radiance. +Hamish could but notice it: it is not often that a sunset is so +beautiful. Insensibly, as he gazed, thoughts stole over him of that +OTHER world, where there shall be no need of the sun to lighten it: +where there shall be no more bitter tears or breaking hearts; where +sorrow and trouble shall have passed away. These same thoughts came to +him very often now, and always with a kind of yearning. + +As he took his hand from the curtain, with that deep, sobbing sigh, or +rather involuntary catching of the breath, which is a sure token of +some long-concealed enduring sorrow--for else it is never heard--the +signet-ring fell from his little finger. It had grown too large for +him--as we are all apt to say. If I don't take care, I shall lose it, +thought Hamish. And that would have been regarded as a misfortune, for +it had been his father's, the one Mr. Channing always wore and used. +This was the third time it had slipped off with a run. + +Hamish saw his wife's work-box on a table, looked in it, and found +some black sewing-silk. This he wound round and round the ring +hastily, for he knew dinner must be ready. Thus secured, he put it on +again, and left the room. The children heard his step, and came +bounding out of the nursery, Miss Nelly springing into his arms. + +He kissed her very tenderly; he lovingly put back her golden hair. He +took up the other little things and kissed them in turn, asking if +they had had love-letters from papa. Looking into the nursery, he +inquired whether they had plenty of jam and such-like good things on +the tea-table, telling nurse to see that little Rosy, who could not +fight for herself, got her share. And then, leaving them with his +pleasant nod, his sunny smile, he went to the drawing-room, and gave +their mother his arm to take her down to dinner, whispering to +her--for she seemed in a low state, her tears on the point of bursting +out--that he would make it all right for her until her husband came +home. And it was that husband, that father, who had worked him all the +ill! Hamish suspected it not. Cowards and malicious ones, such as +Gerald, stab in the dark. + +And so September went on, and October drew near, and by and bye Mr. +Gerald Yorke arrived at home again. Winny, who had no more tact than +her youngest infant, the little Rosy, greeted her husband with a flood +of tears, and the news of how she had been obliged to pay away the +twenty-five pounds in settling his bills. Gerald called her a fool to +her face, and frowned awfully. Winny only sobbed. Next he demanded, +with a few more ugly words that might have been left out, how the +devil she had managed to go on. Between choking and shrinking, the +answer was nearly inaudible, and Gerald bent his head to catch it: she +had had a little more help from "mamma." + +Was Mrs. Gerald Yorke's deceit excusable? Even under the circumstances +few may think it so. And yet--it was a choice between this help, and +the very worst discomfort that could fall upon her: debt. Winny was +shrewd in some things: she knew all about her husband's ill-feeling to +Mr. Channing: she knew about the reviews; and she really did believe +that if Gerald got to hear whence her help had come, he would shake +her as he shook Kitty. In her utter lack of moral courage, she could +but keep up the deception. + +But Gerald Yorke had come home in feather, a prize-rose in his +button-hole. By dint of plausible statements to Mr. Fuller, he had got +that honourable friend to lend him two hundred pounds. Or rather, +strictly speaking, to get it lent to him. With this money safely +buttoned up in his pocket, Winny's penniless state was not quite so +harshly condemned as it might otherwise have been: but when Winny +timidly asked for some money to "pay mamma back," Gerald shortly +answered that he had none, mamma must wait. + +And so, at this, the opening of the third part of the story, Gerald +Yorke was flourishing. A great man he, in his chambers again, free +from duns for a time, giving his wine parties, entering into the +gaieties of social life, with all their waste of time and money. Winny +got her rent paid now, regularly, and some new bonnets for herself and +the children. + +"I am so glad to hear you are more at ease, Gerald," Hamish Channing +said, meeting him one day accidentally, and speaking with genuine +kindness, but never hinting at any debt that might be due to himself. +"How have you managed it, old friend?" + +"Oh--aw--I--paid the harpies a--aw--trifle, and have--aw--got some +credit again," answered Gerald, evading the offered hand. "Good day. +I'm in a hurry." + +But Gerald Yorke, though flourishing in funds, was not flourishing in +temper. Upon one subject it was chronically bad, and he just as angry +and mortified as he could be. And that was in regard to his future +prospects in the field, of literature. Three or four days after his +return, he paid a visit to his publishers, sanguinely hoping there +might be a good round sum coming to him, the proceeds of his book. +Alas for sublunary expectations! The acting partner met him with a +severely cold face and very ill news. The flashing laudatory reviews, +written (as may be remembered) by Gerald himself or his bosom friends, +had not much served the book, after all, in the long run. When they +appeared, it caused demands for it to flow in, and a considerable +number of copies went out. But when the public got the book, they +could not or would not read it; and the savage libraries returned the +copies to the publishers, wholly refusing to pay for them. They sent +them back in shoals: they vowed that the puffing of an utterly +miserable book in the extraordinary style this one had been puffed, +was nothing less than _fraud_: some went so far as to say that the +publishers and the author and the reviewers ought all to be indicted +together for conspiracy. In short, the practical result was, that the +book might almost be said to be withdrawn, so few copies remained in +circulation. In all respects it was an utter failure. No wonder the +unhappy publisher, knowing himself wholly innocent in the matter, +smarting under a considerable loss, besides the fifty pounds that +ought to have been advanced by Gerald, and never yet had been, no +wonder he met Mr. Gerald Yorke with a severe face. The only +gratification afforded him lay in telling this, and enlarging rather +insultingly on the worthlessness of the book. + +"You, a reviewer, could not have failed to know it was _bad_, Mr. +Yorke; one that was certain to fail signally." + +"No I didn't," roared Gerald. + +"Well, I'd recommend you never to attempt another. _That_ field is +closed to you." + +"What the devil do you mean?--how dare you presume to give me such +advice? I shall write books without end if I think fit. My firm belief +is that the failure is _your_ fault. You must have managed badly, and +not properly pushed the book." + +"Perhaps it is my fault that the public can't read the book and won't +put up with it," retorted the publisher. + +Gerald flung away in a temper. A hazy doubt, augmenting his +mortification and anger, kept making itself heard: whether this +expressed opinion of the book's merits might not be the true one? +Hamish Channing, though softening the fiat, had said just the same. +Gerald would very much have liked to pitch publisher and public into +the sea, and Hamish Channing with them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. +ARRIVING AT EUSTON SQUARE. + + +Roland Yorke had stuck to his copying. During this autumn, now rapidly +passing, when all the world and his wife were off on the wing, +spending their money, and taking out their fling at pleasure--which +Roland thought uncommonly hard on him--he had really put his shoulder +to the wheel and drudged on at his evening work. The office had him by +day, the folios by night. And if he hindered an evening or two a week +by dropping in upon Mr. Greatorex and somebody else who was in Mr. +Greatorex's house, he sat up at his work when he got home. Truly +Roland _had_ learnt a lesson at Port Natal, for this was very +different from what he would have done in the old days at +Helstonleigh. It could not be said that he was gaining a fortune. The +writing came to grief sometimes; Roland was as fond of talking as +ever, by way of recreative accompaniment to labour, and the result +would be that words were left out in places and wrong ones penned in +others: upon which fresh paper had to be got, and the sheet begun +again. Therefore he was advancing rather more surely than swiftly: his +present earnings amounted in the aggregate to two sovereigns! And +these he deposited for safety in Mrs. Jones's hands. + +But Roland is not writing this October evening: which, all things +considered, was destined to turn out rather a notable one. A remark +was made in a former chapter, that Roland, from the state of ecstatic +delight he was thrown into by the news that Arthur Channing was about +to visit London, did not quite know whether he stood on his head or +his heels. Most assuredly that same remark might be applied to him +this evening. Upon dashing into his room, a little before six o'clock, +Roland found on his tea-table a letter awaiting him that had come by +the day-mail from Helstonleigh. Recognizing Arthur's handwriting, he +tore it open, read the few lines it contained, and burst forth into a +shout so boisterous and prolonged, that the Reverend Mr. Ollivera, +quietly reading in the drawing-room above, leaped off his seat with +consternation, fully believing that somebody was on fire. + +Arthur Channing was coming to London! Then. That same evening. Almost +at that very hour he ought to be arriving at Euston Square Station. +Roland did not give himself leisure to digest the why and the +wherefore of the journey, or to speculate upon why the station should +be Euston Square and not Paddington. Arthur was coming, and that was +sufficient for him. + +Neglecting his tea, brushing himself up, startling Mrs. Jones with the +suddenness of the tidings, which he burst into her room to deliver, +Roland set off for the Euston Square terminus. As usual, he had not a +fraction of money. That was no impediment to his arriving in time: and +the extraordinary manner in which he pushed his way along the streets, +striding over or through all impediments, caused a crowd of +ragamuffins to collect and follow him on the run, believing that, like +Johnny Gilpin, he was doing it for a wager. + +Charles, the youngest of the Channing family, was coming home +overland, _viâ_ Marseilles, from India, where he had an excellent +appointment. He had gone to it at eighteen, two years ago, and been +very well until recently. All at once his health failed, and he was +ordered home for a six months' sojourn. It was to meet him in London, +where he might be expected in a day or two, and take him down to +Helstonleigh, that Arthur Channing was now coming. + +Panting and breathless with haste, looking wild with excitement, +Roland went striding on to the platform just as the train came +steadily in. It was a mercy he did not get killed. Catching sight of +the well-remembered face--though it was aged and altered now, for +the former stripling of nineteen had grown into the fine man of +seven-and-twenty--Roland sprang forward and held on to the carriage. +Porters shouted, guards flew, passengers screamed--it was all one to +him. + +They stood together on the platform, hand locked in hand: but that +French customs do not prevail with us, Roland might have hugged +Arthur's life out. The tears were in his eyes with the genuineness of +his emotion. Roland's love for his early friend, who had once suffered +so much for his sake, was no simulated one. The spectators spared a +minute to turn and gaze on them--the two notable young men. Arthur was +nearly as tall as Roland, very noble and distinguished. His face had +not the singular beauty--as beauty--of Hamish's, but it was good, +calm, handsome: one of those that thoughtful men like to look upon. +His grey eyes were dark and deep, his hair auburn. + +"Arthur, old friend, I could die of joy. If you only knew how often I +have dreamt of this!" + +Arthur laughed, pressed his hand warmly, and more warmly, ere he +released it. "I must see after my luggage at once, Roland. I think I +have lost it." + +"Lost your luggage?" + +"Yes; in so far as that it has not come with me. This," showing a +rather high basket, whose top was a mound of tissue-paper, that he +brought out of the carriage with his umbrella and a small parcel, "is +something Lady Augusta asked me to convey to Gerald." + +"What is it?" + +"Grapes, I fancy. She charged me not to let it be crushed. I sent my +portmanteau on to the station by Galloway's man, and when I arrived +there myself could not see him anywhere. When we reached Birmingham it +was not to be found, and I telegraphed to Helstonleigh. The guard said +if it came to Birmingham in time he would put it in the van. I only +got to the station as the train was starting, and had no time to +look." + +"But what took you round by Birmingham?" + +"Business for Galloway. I had three or four hours' work to do for him +there." + +"Bother Galloway! How are the two mothers?" continued Roland, as they +walked arm-in-arm down the platform. "How's everybody?" + +"Yours is very well; mine is not. She has never seemed quite the thing +since my father's death, Roland. Everybody else is well; and I have no +end of messages for you." + +They stood round the luggage-van until it was emptied. Nothing had +been turned out belonging to Arthur Channing. It was as he feared--the +portmanteau was not there. + +"They will be sure to send it on from Birmingham by the next train," +he remarked. "I shall get it in the morning." + +"Where was the good of your coming by this duffing train?" cried +Roland. "It's as slow as an old cart-horse. I should have taken the +express." + +"I could not get away before this one, Roland. Galloway made a point +of my doing all there was to do." + +"The cantankerous, exacting old beauty! Are his curls flourishing?" + +Arthur smiled. "Channing still, but growing a little thin." + +"And you are getting on well, Arthur? + +"Very. My salary is handsome; and I believe the business, or part of +it, will be mine some day. We had better take a cab, Roland. I'll get +rid of Gerald's parcel first. This small one is for Hamish. Stay a +moment, though." + +He wrote down the name of a private hotel in the Strand, where he +intended to stay, requesting that the portmanteau should be sent there +on its arrival. + +Jumping into a hansom, Roland, who had not recovered his head, gave +the address of Gerald's chambers. As they were beginning to spin along +the lighted streets, however, he impulsively arrested the man, without +warning to Arthur, and substituted Mrs. Gerald Yorke's lodgings. They +were close at hand; but that was not his motive. + +"If we leave the grapes at the chambers, Ger will only entertain his +cronies with them--a lot of fast men like himself," explained Roland. +"By taking them to Winny's, those poor meek little mites may stand a +chance of getting a few. I don't believe they'd ever taste anything +good at all but for Mrs. Hamish Channing." + +Arthur Channing did not understand. Roland enlightened him. Gerald +kept up, as might be said, two establishments: chambers for himself +and lodgings for his wife. + +"But that must be expensive," observed Arthur. + +"Of course it is. Ger goes in for expense and fashion. All well and +good if he can _do_ it--and keep it up. I think he has had a windfall +from some quarter, for he is launching out uncommonly just now. It +can't be from work; he has been taking his ease all the autumn in Tom +Fuller's yacht." + +"I don't quite understand, yet, Roland. Do you mean that Gerald does +not live with his wife and children?" + +"He lives with them after a fashion: gives them one-third of his days +and nights, and gives his chambers the other two. You'd hardly +recognize him now, he is so grand and stilted up. He'd not nod to me +in the street." + +"Roland!" + +"It's true. He's as heartless as an owl; Ger always was, you know." + +"But you are his brother." + +"Brothers and sisters don't count for much with Gerald. Besides, I'm +down in the world, and he'd not take a pitch-fork to lift me up in it +again. Would you believe it, Arthur, he likes nothing better than to +fling in my teeth that miserable old affair at Galloway's--the +banknote. The very last time we ever met--I had run into Winny's +lodgings to take some dolls' clothes for Kitty from little Nelly +Channing--Ger taunted me with that back affair, and more than hinted, +not for the first time, that I'd helped myself to some money lost last +summer by Bede Greatorex. If I'd known Ger was at home, I'd never have +gone: Miss Nelly might have done her errand herself. Have you read his +book?" + +"Ye-es, I have," answered Arthur, in a rather dubious tone. "Have +you?" + +"No; for I couldn't," candidly avowed Roland. "I got nearly through +one volume, and it was a task. It was impossible to make head or tail +of it. I know I'm different from other folks, have not half the +gumption in me I ought to have, and don't judge of things as they do, +which is all through having gone to Port Natal; but _I_ thought the +book a rubbishing book, Arthur, and a bad one into the bargain: +Where's the use of writing a book if people can't read it?" + +"Did you read the reviews on it?" + +"Oh law! I've heard enough about _them_. Had they been peacock's +feathers, Ger would have stuck them in his cap. And he pretty nigh +did. I'll tell you what book I read--and cried over it too--and got up +from it feeling better and happier--and that's Hamish's." + +A light, like a glow of gladness, shone in Arthur Channing's honest +grey eyes. "When I read that book, I felt _thankful_ that a man should +have been found to write such," he said in a hushed tone. "I should +have felt just the same if he had been a stranger." + +"Ay, indeed: it was something of that I meant to say. And I wish all +the world could read it!" added impulsive Roland. "And did you read +the reviews on it?" + +"Oh my goodness," cried Roland, a blank look taking the place of his +enthusiasm. "Arthur, do you know, if those horrible reviews come +across my mind when I am up at Hamish's, my face goes hot with shame. +I've never said a syllable about them on my own score; I shouldn't +like to. When I get rich, I mean to go against the papers for +injustice." + +"We cannot understand it down with us," said Arthur. "On the Saturday +night that William Yorke got back to Helstonleigh after attending your +uncle's funeral, I met him at the station. He had the 'Snarler' with +him--and told me before he'd let me open it, that it contained a most +disgraceful attack on Hamish's book: in fact, on Hamish himself. +Putting aside all other feeling when I read it, my astonishment was +excessive." + +Roland relieved _his_ feelings by a few stamps, and it was well that +the cab bottom was pretty strong. "If I could find out who the writer +was, Arthur, I'd get him ducked." + +"That review was followed by others, all in the same strain, just as +bad as it is possible for reviews to be made." + +"The wicked old reptiles!" interjected Roland. + +"What struck me as being rather singular in the matter, was this," +observed Arthur: "That the selfsame journals which so extravagantly +and wrongly praised Gerald's work, just as extravagantly and wrongly +abused Hamish's. It would seem to me that there must have been some +plot afoot, to write up Gerald and write down Hamish. But how the +public can submit to be misled by reviewers in this manner, and not +rise against it, I cannot understand." + +"If those were not the exact words of old Greatorex!" exclaimed +Roland. "He read both the books and all the reviews. It was a sin and +a shame, and a puzzle, he said; a humbug altogether, and he should +like, for the satisfaction of his curiosity, to be behind the scenes +in the performance. But what else do you think he said, Arthur?" + +"I don't know." + +"That the reviews and the books would find their level in the end. It +was impossible, he declared, that Gerald's book could live; all the +fulsome praises in Christendom could not make it: just as it was +impossible for such a work as the other to be written out; it would be +sure to find its way with the public eventually. Annabel told me that; +and I went off the same evening to Hamish's and told him. He and old +Greatorex are first rate friends." + +"What did Hamish say?" + +"Oh, nothing. He just smiled in his sad way, and said 'Yes, perhaps it +might be,' as if the words made no impression on him." + +"Why do you say 'his sad way?' Hamish always had the sweetest and +gayest smile in the world. We used, if you remember, to call him Sunny +Hamish." + +"I know. But somehow he has altered, Arthur. He was changing a little +before, seemed thoughtful and considerate instead of gay and mocking; +but that was nothing to the way he has changed lately. I'd not say it +to any soul but you, old Arthur, not even to Annabel, but my belief is +just this--that the reviews have done it." + +"The reviews!" + +Roland nodded. "Taken the shine out of him for a time. Oh, he'll +come-to again soon; never fear. All the sooner if I could find out who +the snake was, and kick him." + +"We cannot judge for others; we cannot put ourselves in their places," +observed Arthur. "Or else it seems to me that, after producing such a +book as Hamish's, I should rest on its obvious merits, and be little +moved by what adverse friends could say." + +"I'm sure they'd not move me," avowed candid Roland. "The newspaper +writers might lay hold of all my flounderings at Port Natal, and print +them for the public benefit in big text-type tomorrow, and direct a +packet to Annabel. What should I care? I say, how about poor Charley? +He has been ill." + +"Very ill. They have kindly given him six months' leave, and pay his +overland passage out and home." + +"And how much leave have you got for London, Arthur?" + +"That depends on Charley. If he comes straight on from Marseilles, he +may be here in a day or two: but should his health have improved on +the voyage, he will probably make a stay in Paris. I am to wait for +him here until he comes, Galloway says." + +"Very condescending of Galloway! I dare say he has given you plenty of +business to do as well, Arthur." + +"That's true," laughed Arthur. "I shall be engaged for him all day +tomorrow; I have some small accounts to settle for him amidst other +things." + +"Where's the money?" asked Roland, in a resentful tone. + +Arthur touched the breast-pocket of his under-coat. "I have brought it +up with me." + +"Then I devoutly hope you'll get robbed of it tonight, Arthur, to +serve him out! It _is_ a shame! Taking up the poor bit of time you've +got in London with his work! That's Galloway all over! I meant to get +holiday myself, that we might go about together." + +"Plenty of time for that, Roland." + +"I hope so. I've got something to tell you. It's about Annabel. But we +are close at Mrs. Yorke's, so I'll not go into the thing now. Oh! and, +Arthur, old chum, I'm so vexed, so ashamed, I shan't know how to look +you in the face." + +"Why not?" + +"I've no money about me to pay the cab. 'Twill be a shilling. It's +awfully lowering, having to meet friends upon empty pockets. I'd like +to have met you with a carriage and four, and outriders; I'd like to +have a good house to bring you into, Arthur, and I've got nothing." + +Arthur's good, earnest eyes fixed themselves on him with all their +steady affection. "You have _yourself_, Roland, dear old friend. You +know that's all I care for. As to funds I am rich enough to pay for +you and myself, though I stayed here for a month." + +"It's uncommonly mortifying, nevertheless, Arthur. It makes a fellow +wish to be back at Port Natal. Mother Jenkins has got two sovereigns +of mine, but I never thought of it before I came out." + +The cab stopped at Mrs. Gerald Yorke's door, and Roland dashed up with +the prize. Mrs. Yorke sat with her youngest child on her lap, the +other two little ones being on the carpet. Roland could hardly see +them in the dusk of the room. + +"It's grapes," said he, "from Lady Augusta. Arthur Channing says she +sent them for Gerald. If I were you, Mrs. Yorke, I should feed the +three chickens on them, and just tell Gerald I had done it. Halloo! +what's the matter now?" + +For Mrs. Yorke broke out in sobs. "It was so lonely," she said by way +of excuse. "Gerald was away nearly always. To-night he had a dinner +and wine party in his chambers." + +"Then I'm downright glad I didn't deposit the grapes there," was +Roland's comment. "As to Gerald's leaving you always alone, Mrs. +Yorke, I should just ask him whether he called that manners. I don't. +Good gracious me! If I were rich enough to have a wife, and played the +truant from her, I should deserve hanging. Cheer up; it will all come +right; and you'd say so if you had tried the ups and downs at Port +Natal. Fredy, Kitty, Rosy, you little pussy cats, tell mamma to give +you some grapes." + +"I'm sure I'd not dare to touch the basket, though the grapes stayed +tied up in it till they were rotten," was the last sobbing sound that +caught Roland's ears from Mrs. Yorke as he leaped downstairs. + +Their appearance at Hamish's was unexpected--for Arthur had advertised +himself to Roland only--but not the less welcome. Of course Hamish and +his wife thought Arthur had come to be their guest, and were half +inclined to resent it when he said no. It had been arranged that he +should take up his sojourn at a private hotel in Norfolk Street, where +he had stayed before; his room had been engaged in it some days past, +and Charles would drive to it on his arrival in London. All this was +explained at once. And in the pleasure his presence brought, Hamish +Channing seemed quite like his own gay self again; his cheeks bright, +his voice glad, his whole manner charming. + +But later, when the excitement had worn itself away, and he calmed +down to sobriety and ordinary looks, Arthur sat with hushed breath, +half petrified at the change he saw. Even Roland, never famous for +observation, could but mark it. As if the recent emotion were taking +its revenge, the change in Hamish Channing seemed very, very marked +tonight. The hollow face, the subdued voice with its ring of +hopelessness, the feverish cheek and hand--all were sad to hear, to +feel, to look upon. + +It was but a brief visit; Arthur did not stay. He wanted to see about +his room, and had one or two purchases to make; and he also expected +to find at the hotel letters to answer. He promised to dine with them +on the morrow, and to give them as much time as he could during his +stay, which might possibly last a fortnight, he laughingly +acknowledged, if Mr. Charley prolonged _his_ stay in Paris; as he was +not unlikely, if well enough, to do. "So you'll probably have enough +of me, Hamish," he concluded, as they shook hands. + +"Roland, he is strangely altered," were the first words spoken by +Arthur, when they went out together. + +"Didn't I tell you so?" replied Roland. "It is just what strikes me." + +Arthur walked on in silence, saying no more of what he thought. It was +just as if the heart's life had gone out of Hamish; as if some +perpetual weight of pain, that would never be lifted, lay on the +spirit. + +They walked to the Strand, and there Arthur made his small purchases, +rendered necessary by the non-arrival of his portmanteau. It was +striking eight by St. Mary's Church as Roland stood with him at the +door of the hotel in Norfolk Street. + +"These letters that you expect are waiting for you and that you have +to answer," said he, resentfully, for he thought Arthur's whole time +ought to be given to himself on this, the first evening, "what are +they? who are they from?" + +"Only from Galloway's agents, and one or two more business people. I +expect they will make appointments with me for tomorrow, or ask me to +make them. There may be a letter from Galloway himself. I quitted +Helstonleigh an hour before the day-mail left, and I may have to write +to him." + +Roland growled; he thought himself very ill-used. + +"It is only eight o'clock, Arthur, and I've said as good as nothing. +All you've got to do won't take you more than an hour. Can't you come +at nine to lodgings? You'd have the felicity of seeing Mrs. J." + +"I fear not tonight, Roland." + +They talked a little while longer, shook hands, and Arthur went into +the hotel. Roland, turning away, decided to air himself in the Strand +for an hour, and then return to the hotel and get Arthur to come home +with him. He had not the smallest objection, taking it in the +abstract, to spend the time before the shop windows. The pawnbrokers +and eating-houses would be sure to be open, if no others were. Roland +liked the pastime of looking in. Debarred of being a purchaser of +desirable things, on account of the state of his exchequer, the next +best thing was to take out his fill of gazing at them. + +Wandering up and down, he had got on the other side of Temple Bar, and +had his face glued to the glass of an oyster shop, his mouth watering +at the delicacies displayed within, when the clock of St. Clement +Danes struck out nine. Springing back impulsively with its first +stroke, Roland came in awkward contact with someone, bearing on +towards the Strand. But the gentleman, who was as tall as himself, +seemed scarcely to notice the touch, so absorbed was he in his own +thoughts. Save that he put out one of his hands, cased in a lavender +glove of delicate hue, and slightly pushed the awkward intruder aside, +he took no further heed. The face was never turned, the eyes were +never removed from the straight-out look before them. Onward he +passed, seeing and hearing nothing. + +"What on earth has he been up to?--He looked as scared as though he +had met a ghost!" mentally commented Roland with his accustomed +freedom, as he stared after the wayfarer. For in him he had recognised +Mr. Bede Greatorex. + +He did not suffer the speculation to detain him. Taking to his heels +with the last stroke of the clock, Roland gained the small hotel in +Norfolk Street; into which he bolted head foremost, with his usual +clatter, haste, and want of ceremony, and nearly into the arms of a +tall waiter. + +"I want Mr. Arthur Channing. Which room is he in?" + +"Mr. Arthur Channing is gone out, sir." + +"Gone out!" + +"Yes, sir. Some time ago." + +"He found he had no letters to write, and so went on to me," thought +Roland, as he shot out again "And I have been cooling my heels in this +precious street, like a booby!" + +Full speed went he home now, through all the cross-cuts and nearest +ways he knew, never slackening it for a moment; arriving there with +bated breath and damp hair. Seizing the knocker in one hand and the +bell in the other, he worked at both frantically until the door was +opened. Mr. Ollivera, flinging up his window above, put out his +alarmed head; Mrs. Jones, Miss Rye, two visitors, and the maid Betsey, +came rushing along the passage with pale faces, Mrs. J. herself +opening the door, Betsey absolutely refusing the office. Roland, +without the least explanation or apology, dashed through the group +into the parlour. It was dark and empty. + +"Where's Arthur Channing?" he demanded, darting out again. "Mrs. J., +where have you put him?" + +And when Mrs. J. could gather the sense of the question +sufficiently to answer it, Roland had the satisfaction--or, rather, +non-satisfaction--of finding that Arthur Channing had not been there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. +A PRIVATE INTERVIEW. + + + "PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL. + "CUFF COURT, OFF FLEET STREET. No. 1. + "_October the twenty-second_. + +"MR. BEDE GREATOREX. + +"SIR,--A small leaf has been turned over in the matter of your cheque, +lost mysteriously in June last. Leastways in something that might turn +out to be connected with it. Remembering back orders, and wishing to +act in accordance with the same, I'd be glad to hold a short interview +with you, and would wait upon you at any hour or place you may +appoint. Or if it suited your convenience to come to me, I am to be +found as above, either this evening or tomorrow evening after seven +o'clock. + + "Your obedient servant, + + "JONAS BUTTERBY." + + +The above note, amidst two or three other letters, reached Mr. Bede +Greatorex about four o'clock in the afternoon. He happened to be at +his desk in the front room, and was giving some directions to Mr. +Brown, who stood by him. As Bede ran his eyes over the lines, a deep +flush, a frown, followed by a sickly paleness, overspread his face. +Mr. Brown, looking at him quite by accident, remarked the signs of +displeasurable emotion, and felt curious to know what the news could +be that had caused it. He had, however, no opportunity for prolonged +observation, for Bede, carrying the letter in his hand, went into his +room and shut the door. + +The note angered Bede Greatorex as well as troubled him. Who was this +Butterby, that he should be continually crossing his peace? What +brought the man to London?--he had gone back to Helstonleigh in the +summer, and had never, so far as Bede knew, come up from it since. Was +he, Bede, ere he had been a couple of weeks home from his Continental +holiday, to be followed up by this troublesome detective, and his life +made a worry again? In the moment's angry impulse, Bede sat down to +his desk-table, and began dashing off an answer, to the effect that he +could not accord an interview to Mr. Butterby. + +But the pen was arrested ere it had completed the first line. +Self-preservation from danger is a feeling implanted more or less +strongly within us all. What if this persistent officer, denied to +him, betook himself and his news to Mr. Greatorex? Bede was as +innocent in regard to the purloining of the cheque and certainly as +ignorant of the really guilty party as Butterby could be; he had +refunded the forty-four pounds with anything but a hand of +gratification; but nevertheless there were grave reasons why the +matter should not be reopened to his father. + +Catching up the letter, he paced the carpet for a moment or two in +deep thought; halted by the window, and read it again. "Yes, I'll see +him; it will be safer," said he, with decision. + +He wrote a rapid note, appointing eleven o'clock the next morning for +the interview at his own office. And then again paused as he was +folding it; paused in deliberation. + +"Why not go to him?" spoke Bede Greatorex, his eyes fixed on the +opposite wall, as if he thought the map there could solve the query. +"Yes, I will; I'll go tonight. That's safest of all." + +Noting down the given address, he held M. Butterby's letter and his +own two answers, perfect and imperfect, over the grate lighted a +match, and burnt them to ashes. There was no fire; the weather was +uncertain, warm today, cold tomorrow, and the fire was sometimes let +go out in a morning as soon as lighted. + +Evening came. And at ten minutes past seven Bede Greatorex was on the +search for Mr. Butterby. "Cuff Court, Off Fleet Street." He did not +know Cuff Court; and supposed that "Off Fleet Street" might indicate +some turning or winding beginning in that well-known thoroughfare, and +ending it was hard to say where. Bede, however, by dint of inquiry +found Cuff Court at last. No. 1 had the appearance of a small private +house; as in fact it was. The great Butterby generally lodged there +when he came to town. The people residing in it were connections of +his and accommodated him; it was, as he remarked, "convenient to +places." + +Bede was shown upstairs to a small sitting-room. At a square table, +examining some papers taken from his open pocketbook, by the light of +two gas-burners over head, sat Jonas Butterby; the same thin wiry man +as ever, in apparently the same black coat, plaid trousers, and +buttoned-up waistcoat; with the same green observant eyes, and +generally silent lips. He pushed the papers and pocketbook away into +a heap when his visitor appeared, and rose to receive him. + +"Take a seat, sir," he said, handing a chair by the hearth opposite +his own, and stirring the bit of fire in the grate. "You don't object +to this, I hope: it ain't hardly fire-time yet, but a morsel looks +cheery at night." + +"I like it," said Bede. He put his hat on a side-table, and unbuttoned +a thin overcoat he wore, as he sat down, throwing it a little back +from the fine white shirt front, but did not take off his lavender +gloves. It had always struck Mr. Butterby that Bede Greatorex was one +of the finest and most gentlemanly men he knew, invariably dressed +well; it had struck him that far-off time at Helstonleigh, when they +met over John Ollivera's death chair, and it struck him still. But he +was looking ill, worn, anxious; and the detective, full of observation +by habit, could not fail to see it. + +"I'm uncommon glad you've come in, Mr. Bede Greatorex. From a fresh +turn some business I'm engaged on has took today, I'm not sure but I +shall have to go back to Helstonleigh the first thing in the morning. +Shall know by late post tonight." + +"Are you living in London?" + +"Not I. I come up to it only yesterday, expecting to stop a week or +so. Now I find I may have to go back tomorrow: the chances is about +equal one way and t'other. But if I do, I should not have got to see +you this time, sir, and must have come up again for it." + +"I felt very much inclined to say I'd not see you," answered Bede, +candidly. "We are busy just now, and I would a great deal rather let +the whole affair relating to the cheque drop entirely, than be at the +trouble of raking it up again. The loss of the money has been ours, +and, of course, we must put up with it. I began a note to you to this +effect; but it struck me while I was writing that you might possibly +be carrying your news to my father." + +"No, I shouldn't have done that. It concerns you, so to say, more than +him. Been well lately, Mr. Bede Greatorex?" + +"As well as I usually am. Why?" + +"Well, sir, you are looking, if I might make bold to say it, something +like a shadder. Might a'most see through you." + +"I have been doing too much lately. Mrs. Bede Greatorex and myself +were on the Continent for two months, rushing about from kingdom to +kingdom, and from place to place, seeing the wonders, and taking what +the world calls a holiday--which is more wearing than any hard work," +Bede condescended to explain, but in rather a haughty tone, for he +thought it did not lie in the detective's legitimate province to offer +remarks upon him. "In regard to business, Mr. Butterby: unless you +have anything very particular to communicate, I would rather not hear +it. Let the affair drop." + +"But I should not be doing my duty either way, to you or to me, in +letting it drop," returned Butterby. "If anything worse turned up +later, I might get called over the coals for it at headquarters." + +"Be so good as to hasten over what you have to say, then," said Bede, +taking out his watch and looking at it with anything but marked +courtesy. + +It produced no effect on Mr. Butterby. If his clients chose to be in a +hurry, he rarely was. But in his wide experience, bringing, as he +generally did, all keen observation to bear, he felt convinced of one +thing--that the gentleman before him _dreaded_ the communication he +had to make, and, for that reason and no other, wished to shun it. + +"When that cheque was lost in the summer, Mr. Bede Greatorex, you did +me the honour to put a little matter into my hands, confiding to me +your confident opinion that one of your clerks must have been the +purloiner of it, if not on his own score, on somebody else's that he +was acting for. You asked me to give an eye privately to the four. Not +having got any satisfactory news from me up to the present time, you +have perhaps thought that I have been neglecting the charge, and let +it fall through." + +"Oh, if it concerns _them_, I'll be glad to hear you!" briskly spoke +Bede Greatorex; and to the acute ear listening, the tone seemed to +express relief as well as satisfaction. "Have you found out that one +of them did take it?" + +"Not exactly. What I have found out, though, tells me that it is not +improbable." + +"Go on, please," said Bede impatiently. "Was it Hurst?" + +"Now don't you jump to conclusions in haste, Mr. Bede Greatorex; and +you must just pardon me for giving you the advice. It's a good rule to +be observed in all cases; and if you'd been in my part of the law as +long as I have, you'd not need to be told it. My own opinion was, that +young Hurst was not one to help himself to money, or anything else +that wasn't his; but of course when you----" + +"Stop an instant," interrupted Bede Greatorex, starting up as a +thought occurred to him, and looking round in alarm. "This house is +small, the walls are no doubt thin; can we be overheard?" + +"You may sit down again in peace, sir," was the phlegmatic answer. "It +was a child of twelve, or so, that showed you up, wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, except her, and her missis--who is as deaf as a stone post, +poor thing, though she is my cousin--there's not a living soul in the +house. The husband and son never get home till ten. As to the walls, +they are seven times thicker than some modern ones, for the old house +was built in substantial days. And if not--trust me for being secure +and safe, and my visitors too, wherever I may stop, Mr. Bede +Greatorex." + +"It was for Hurst's sake I spoke," said Bede, in the light of a rather +lame apology. "It may suit me to hush it up, even though you tell me +he is guilty." + +"When you desired me to look after your clerks, and gave me your +reasons--which I couldn't at first make top nor tail of, and am free +to confess have not got to the bottom of yet--my own judgment was that +young Hurst was about the least likely of all to be guilty," pursued +the officer, in his calmest and coolest manner. "However, as you +persisted in your opinion, I naturally gave in to it, and looked up +Hurst effectually. Or got him looked up; which amounts to the same +thing." + +"Without imparting any hint of my reasons for it?" again anxiously and +imperatively interrupted Bede Greatorex. And it nettled the detective. + +"I'd like to ask you a question, Mr. Bede Greatorex, and to have it +answered, sir. _Do_ you think I should be fit for my post unless I had +more 'cute discretion about me than ordinary folks, such as--excuse +me--you? Why, my whole work, pretty nigh, is made up of ruses and +secresy, and pitching people off on wrong scents. Says I to my +friend--him that I sets about the job?--'that young Mr. Hurst has been +making a undesirable acquaintance, quite innocent, lately; he may get +drawed into unpleasant consequences afore he knows it; and as I've a +respect for his father, a most skilful doctor of physic, I should like +to warn the young man in time, if there's danger. You just _turn him, +inside out_; watch all he does and all he doesn't do, and let me know +it.' Well, sir, Hurst _was_ turned inside out, so to say; if we'd +stripped his skin off him, we couldn't have seen more completely into +his in'ard self and his doings than we did see; and the result was +(leastways, the opinion I came to), that I was right and you were +wrong. He had no more hand in the taking of that there cheque, or in +any other part of the matters you hinted at, than this pocketbook +here of mine had. And when I tell you that, Mr. Bede Greatorex, you +may believe it." + +A short silence ensued. Bede Greatorex's left elbow rested on the +table; his hand, the glove off now, was pressing his temple as if in +reflective thought, the beautiful diamond ring on his little finger +glittering in the gas-light. His mother had given the ring to him when +she was dying, expressing a hope that he would wear it always in +remembrance of her. It appeared to Bede almost as a religious duty to +obey, though few men hated ornaments in connection with himself, so +much as he. His eyes were fixed on the fire; Mr. Butterby's on him. + +"Well, Mr. Greatorex, Hurst being put out of the field, I naturally +went on to the others. Jenner I never suspected at all, 'twas not him; +and I felt morally sure, in spite of his impudence to me, that this +time it was not Roland Yorke. Notwithstanding, I looked a little after +both those gents; and I found that it was not either of 'em." + +"What do you mean by 'this time' in connection with Mr. Yorke?" +inquired Bede, catching up the words, which, perhaps, had been an +inadvertent slip. + +Butterby coughed. But he was not a bad man at heart, and had no +intention of doing gratuitous damage even to impudent Roland. + +"Oh well, come Mr. Bede Greatorex--a young fellow who has been out on +the spec to Port Natal, seeing all sorts of life, is more likely, you +know, to tumble into scrapes than steady-natured young fellows who +have never been let go beyond their mothers' apron-strings." + +"True," assented Bede Greatorex. "But in spite of his travelling +experiences, Roland Yorke appears to me to be one of the most +unsophisticated young men I know. In the ways of a bad world he is as +a very boy." + +"He is just one of them shallow-natured, simple-minded chaps that +never _will_ be bad," pronounced Butterby, "except in the matter of +impudence. He has got enough of that to set up trading on in +Cheapside. What he'd have been, but for having got pulled up by a +unpleasant check or two, I'm not prepared to say. Well, sir, them +three being disposed of--Hurst, Jenner, and Yorke--there remained only +Mr. Brown, your manager. And it is about him I've had the honour to +solicit an interview with you." + +Bede turned his eyes inquiringly from the fire to Mr. Butterby. + +"You said from the first you did not suspect Mr. Brown. No more did I. +You thought it couldn't be him; he has been some years with you, and +his honesty and faithfulness had been sufficiently tested. I'm sure I +had no reasons to think otherwise, except one. Which was this: I could +not find out anything about Mr. Brown prior to some three or four +years back; his appearance on the stage of life, so to say, seemed to +date from then. However, sir, by your leave, we'll put Brown aside for +a minute, and go on to other people." + +Mr. Butterby paused almost as though he expected his hearer to give +the leave in words. Bede said nothing, only waited in evident +curiosity, and the other resumed. + +"There was a long-established firm in Birmingham, Johnson and Teague. +Accountants ostensibly, but did a little in bill-broking and what not; +honest men, well thought of, very respectable. Johnson (who had +succeeded his father) was a man under forty; Teague was old. Old +Teague had never married, but he had a great-nephew, in the office, +Samuel Teague; had brought him up, and loved him as the apple of his +eye. A nice young fellow in public, a wild spendthrift in private; +that's what Sam Teague was. His salary was two hundred a year, and he +lived free at his uncle's residence, outside Birmingham. His spendings +were perhaps four hundred beyond the two. Naturally he came to grief. +Do you take me, Mr. Bede Greatorex?" + +"Certainly." + +"In the office, one of its clerks, was a young man named George +Winter. A well-brought-up young fellow too, honest by nature, trusted, +and thought much of. He and young Teague were uncommonly intimate. +Now, how much blame was due to Winter I'm not prepared to say; but +when Samuel Teague, to save himself from some bother, forged a bill on +the office, and got it paid _by_ the office, Winter was implicated. +He'd no doubt say, if you asked him, that he was drawn into it +innocently, _did_ say it in fact; but he had been the one to hand over +the money, and the firm and the world looked upon him as the worse of +the two. When the fraud was discovered, young Teague decamped. Winter, +in self-defence and to avert consequences, went straight the same +afternoon, which was a Saturday, to old Teague's private residence, +and there made a clean breast of young Teague's long course of +misdoings. It killed old Teague." + +"Killed him!" repeated Bede, for the detective made a slight pause. + +"Yes, sir, killed him. He had looked upon his nephew up to that time +as one of the saints of this here middle world; and the shock of +finding him more like an angel of the lower one touched old Teague's +heart in some vital spot, and killed him. He had a sort of fit, and +died that same night. The next day, Sunday, young Winter was missing. +It was universally said that he had made his way to Liverpool, in +the track of Samuel Teague--for that's where folks thought he had +gone--with a view of getting away to America. Both were advertised +for; both looked upon as alike criminal. It was for such a paltry sum +they had perilled themselves--only a little over one hundred pounds! +Time went on, and neither of 'em was ever traced; perhaps Mr. Johnson, +when he had cooled down from his first anger, was willing to let Sam +Teague be, for the old man's sake, and so did not press the search. +Anyway Samuel Teague is now in open business in New York, and doing +well." + +"And the other--Winter?" + +"Ah, it's him I'm coming to," significantly resumed Mr. Butterby. "It +seems that Winter never went after him at all. In the panic of finding +old Teague had died, and that no quarter was to be expected from +Johnson (as it wasn't _then_) he took a false name, put on false hair +and whiskers, and stole quietly off by the train on Sunday afternoon, +carrying a shirt or two in a blue bag. It was to Helstonleigh he went, +Mr. Bede Greatorex, and he called himself Godfrey Pitman." + +Bede Greatorex started from his seat. Up to that period he had been +perfectly calm; interested of course, but as if in something that did +not concern him. + +"Yes, sir, Godfrey Pitman. The same that was in Mrs. Jones's house at +the time of Mr. Ollivera's death; the man that Helstonleigh made so +much mystery of; who was, so to say, accused of the murder. And +Godfrey Pitman, sir, or George Winter, whichever you may please to +call him, is one and the same with your managing clerk Mr. Brown!" + +"No!" shouted Bede Greatorex. + +"I say YES, sir. The very selfsame man." + +Bede Greatorex, looking forward in a kind of wild manner, over Mr. +Butterby's head against the opposite wall, seemed to be revolving +within him various speculations connected with the disclosure. + +"Why Brown has always--" He brought the words to a sudden standstill. +"Brown has always unpleasantly puzzled me," had been on the tip of his +tongue. But he let the words die away unspoken, and a sickly hue +overspread his features. Taking his eyes from the wall and turning +them on the fire, he sat as before, his brow pressed on his fingers, +quite silent, after the manner of a man who is dreaming. + +"I see the disagreeable doubt that is working within you, Mr. Bede +Greatorex," remarked the observant detective, upon whom not a sign was +lost. "You are ready to say now it was Pitman did that there deed at +Helstonleigh. + +"How did you find out all this about him?" asked Bede Greatorex. + +"Well, I got a clue accidental. Don't mind saying so. I was about some +business lately for a gentleman in Birmingham, named Foster, and in a +packet of letters he put into my hand to look over, I found a note +from George Winter, written from your office this past summer. It was +just one of them curious chances that don't happen often; for Foster +had no notion that the letter was there, thought he had destroyed it. +It was but a line or two, and them of no moment, but it showed me that +Mr. Brown and George Winter was the same man, and I soon wormed out +his identity with Godfrey Pitman." + +"Johnson and Co. will be for prosecuting him, I suppose?" observed +Bede, still as if he were dreaming. + +"No," said Mr. Butterby. "I've seen Johnson and Co.: leastways +Johnson. In regard to that past transaction of theirs, his opinion has +changed, and he thinks that Winter, though culpably careless, and +unpardonably blind as to the faith he reposed in Samuel Teague, had +not himself any guilty knowledge. Anyway, Winter has been doing what +he can since to repair mischief: been living on a crust and working +night and day, to transmit sums periodically to Johnson in an +anonymous manner--except that he just let it be known they came from +him, by giving no clue to where he was, or how he gained them--with a +view to wipe off the money Sam Teague robbed them of. Teague has been +doing the same from his side the Atlantic," added Mr. Butterby with a +knowing laugh; "so that Johnson, as he says, is paid twice over. + +"Then they don't prosecute?" + +"Not a bit of it. And I'm free to confess that, taking in all aspects +of affairs--Brown's good conduct since, and the probability that Sam +Teague was the sole offender--the man has shown himself in all +ordinary pecuniary interests, just as honest and trustworthy as here +and there one." + +"Did he----" Bede Greatorex hesitated, stopped, and then went on with +his sentence--"take my cheque?" + +"That must be left to your judgment, sir. I've no cause myself to make +sure of it. The letter to Foster was written about the time the cheque +was lost, or a few days later; it made an allusion to money, Brown +saying he was glad to be out of his debt, but whether the debt was +pounds or shillings, I've no present means of knowing. Foster wouldn't +answer me a syllable; was uncommonly savage at his own carelessness in +letting the letter get amid the other. Living close and working hard, +Brown would have money in hand of his own without touching yours, Mr. +Bede Greatorex." + +Bede nodded. + +"On the other hand, a man who has lain under a cloud is more to be +doubted than one who has walked about in the open sunshine all his +life. The presenter of that cheque at the bank had a quantity of black +hair about his face, just as the false Godfrey Pitman had on his at +Helstonleigh. But it would be hardly fair to suspect Brown on that +score, seeing there's so many faces in London adorned with it +natural." + +Again Bede nodded in acquiescence. + +"Of course, sir, if you choose to put it to the test, you might have +Mr. Brown's face dressed up for it, and let the bank see him. Anyway, +'twould set the matter at rest." + +"No," said Bede, quite sharply. "No, I should not like to do it. I +never thought of Brown in the affair; never. I--can't--don't--think of +him now." + +Did he not now think of him? Butterby, with his keen ears, fancied the +last concluding sentence had a false ring in it. + +"Well, sir, that lies at your own option. I've done my duty in making +you acquainted with this, but I've no call to stir in it, unless you +choose to put it officially into my hands. But there's the other and +graver matter, Mr. Bede Greatorex." + +"What other?" questioned Bede, turning to him. + +"That at Helstonleigh," said the detective. "All sorts of notions and +thoughts--fanciful some of 'em--come crowding through my mind at once. +I don't say that he had any hand in Mr. Ollivera's death; but it might +have been so: and this, that has now come out, strengthens the +suspicion against him in some points, and weakens it in others. You +remember the queer conduct of Alletha Rye at the time, sir--her dream, +and her show-off at the grave--which I had the satisfaction of looking +on at myself--and her emotion altogether?" + +Bede Greatorex replied that he did remember it: also remembered that +he was unable to understand why it should have been so. But he spoke +like one whose mind is far away, as if the questions bore little +interest. + +"George Winter and Alletha Rye were sweethearts: she used to live in +Birmingham before she came to Helstonleigh. But for his getting into +trouble, they'd soon have been married." + +"Oh, sweethearts were they," carelessly observed Bede. "She is a +superior young woman." + +"Granted, sir. But them superior women are not a bit wiser nor better +than others when their lovers is in question. Women have done mad +things for men's sakes afore today; and it strikes me now, that +Alletha Rye was just screening him, fearing he might have done it. I +don't see how else her madness and mooning is to be accounted for. On +the other hand, it seems uncommon droll that George Winter, hiding in +that top room until he could get safely away, should set himself out +to harm Mr. Ollivera; a man he'd never seen. Which was the view I took +at the time." + +"And highly improbable," murmured Bede. + +"Well, so I say; and I can't help thinking he'll come out of the fiery +ordeal unscorched." + +"What ordeal?" + +"The charge of murder. Mr. Greatorex is safe to give him into custody +upon it. I don't know that the Grand Jury would find a true bill." + +All in a moment, Bede's face took a ghastly look of fear. It startled +even the detective, as it was turned sharply upon him. And the voice +in which he spoke was harsh and commanding. + +"This must not be suffered to come to the knowledge of my father." + +"Not suffered to come to his knowledge!" echoed Butterby, agape with +wonder. + +"No, NO! You must not let him know that Brown is Godfrey Pitman. He +must never be told that Pitman is found." + +"Why, Heaven bless you, Mr. Bede Greatorex! my honour has been engaged +all along in the tracing out of Pitman. That one man has given me more +in'ard trouble than any three. We detectives get hold of mortifying +things as well as other people, and that's been one of mine. Now that +I have trapped Pitman, I can't let the matter drop: and I'm sure Mr. +Greatorex won't." + +Bede looked confounded. He opened his month to speak, and closed it +again. + +"And if us two was foolish enough, there's another that wouldn't; that +would a'most make us answer for it with our lives," resumed the +detective, in a low, impressive tone--"and that is Parson Ollivera." + +"I tell you, Butterby, this must be hushed up," repeated Bede, his +agitation unmistakable, his voice strangely hollow. "It must be hushed +up at any cost. _Do nothing_." + +"And if the parson finds Pitman out for himself?" asked Butterby, his +deep green eyes, shaded by their overhanging eyebrows, looking out +steadily at Bede. + +"That is a contingency we have nothing to do with yet. Time enough to +talk of it when it comes." + +"But, Mr. Bede Greatorex, if Pitman really was the----" + +"Hush! Stay!" interrupted Bede, glancing round involuntarily, as if +afraid of the very walls. "For Heaven's sake, Butterby, let the whole +thing drop; now and for ever. There are interests involved in it that +I cannot speak of--that must at all risks be kept from my father. I +wish I could unburthen myself of the whole complication, and lay the +matter bare before you; but I may not bring trouble on other people. +To accuse Pitman would--would re-open wounds partially healed; it +might bring worse than death amidst us." + +It truly seemed, bending over the table in his imperative, realistic +earnestness, that Bede was longing to pour out the confidence he dared +not give. Butterby, revolving sundry speculations in his mind, never +took his eyes for an instant from the eager face. + +"Answer me one question, Mr. Bede Greatorex--an' you don't mind doing +it. If you knew that Pitman was the slayer of your cousin, would you +still screen him?" + +"If I knew--if I thought that Pitman had done that evil deed, I would +be the first to hand him over to justice," spoke Bede, breathing +quickly. "I feel sure he did not." + +Butterby paused. "Sir, as you have said so much, I think you should +say a little more. It will be safe. You've got, I see, some other +suspicion." + +"I have always believed that it was _one_ person did that," said Bede, +scarcely able to speak for agitation. "If--understand me--if it was +not an accident, or as the jury brought in, why then I think I suspect +who and what it really was. Not Pitman." + +"Can the person be got at?" inquired Butterby. + +"Not for any practical use; not for accusation." + +"Is it any one of them I've heard mentioned in connection with the +death?" + +"No; neither you nor the world. Let that pass. On my word of honour, I +say to you, Mr. Butterby, that I feel sure Pitman had no hand in the +matter for that reason, and for other involved reasons, I wish this +information you have given me to remain buried; a secret between you +and me. I will take my own time and opportunity for discharging Mr. +Brown. Will you promise this? Should you have incurred costs in +anyway, I will give you my cheque for the amount." + +"There has not been much cost as yet," returned the detective, +honestly. "We'll let that be for now. What you ask me is difficult, +sir. I might get into trouble for it later at headquarters." + +"Should that turn out to be the case, you can, in self-defence, bring +forward my injunctions. Say I stopped proceedings." + +"Very well," returned Butterby, after a pause of consideration. "Then +for the present, sir, we'll say it shall stand so. Of course, if the +thing is brought to light through other folks, I must be held absolved +from my promise." + +"Thank you; thank you truly, Mr. Butterby." + +Bede Greatorex, the naturally haughty-natured man, condescended to +shake hands with the detective. Mr. Butterby attended him downstairs, +and opened the door for him. It was after he had gained Fleet Street, +that Bede came in contact with the shoulders of Roland Yorke, never +noticing him, bearing on in his all-powerful abstraction, his face +worn, anxious, white, scared, like that of a man, as Roland took +occasion to remark, who has met a ghost. + +Back up the stairs turned Mr. Butterby, and sat down in front of the +fire, leaving the gas-burners to light up his back. + +There, with a hand on either knee, he recalled all the circumstances +of John Ollivera's death with mental accuracy, and went over them one +by one. That done, he revolved surrounding interests in his silent +way, especially the words that had just fallen from Bede Greatorex one +single sentence, during the whole reverie, escaping his lips. + +"Was Louisa Joliffe out that evening, I wonder?" + +And the clock of St. Clement Danes had moved on an hour and a quarter +before he ever lifted his hands or rose from his seat. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. +DISAPPEARED. + + +"I am waiting for that, Mr. Yorke." + +But for the presence of Bede Greatorex, who sat at his desk in the +front office, Roland might have retorted on Mr. Brown that he _might_ +wait, for he felt in just as bad a humour as it was well possible for +Roland, or anybody else, to feel. Ceasing his covert grumbling to +Hurst, who had the convenient gift of listening and writing away by +steam at one and the same time, Roland's pen resumed its task. + +Never, since Roland had joined the house of Greatorex and Greatorex, +did he remember it to have been so pressed as now, as far as Bede's +room was concerned. There was a sudden accumulation of work, and hands +were short. Little Jenner had been summoned into Yorkshire by the +illness of his mother, and Mr. Bede Greatorex had kindly said to him, +"Don't hurry back if you find her in danger." They could not borrow +help from the other side, for it happened that a clerk there was also +absent. + +Thus it fell out that not only Mr. Brown had to stay in the office the +previous night until a late hour, but he detained Roland in it as +well, besides warning that gentleman that he must take twenty minutes +for his dinner at present, and no more. This was altogether an intense +grievance, considering that Roland had fully purposed to devote a +large amount of leisure time to Arthur Channing. One whole day, and +this one getting towards its close, and Roland had not set eyes on +Arthur. Since the moment when he left him at the door of the hotel in +Norfolk Street, the last evening but one, Roland had neither seen nor +heard of him. He was resenting this quite as much as the weight of +work: for when his heart was really engaged, anything like slight or +neglect wounded it to the core. Somewhat of this feeling had set in on +the first night. After startling the street and alarming the inmates +of the house, through the bell and knocker, to find that Arthur +Channing had left his hotel and not come to him, was as a very pill to +Roland. He had been kept all closely at work since, and Arthur had not +chosen to come in search of him. + +Whatever impression might have been made on the mind of Bede Greatorex +by the police officer's communication, now nearly two days old, he +could not but estimate at its true value the efficiency of Mr. Brown +as a clerk. In an emergency like the present, Mr. Brown did that which +Roland was fond of talking of--put his shoulder to the wheel. Whatever +the demands of the office, Mr. Brown showed himself equal to them +almost in his own person; this, combined with his very excellent +administrative qualities, rendered him invaluable to Bede Greatorex. +In a silent, undemonstrative kind of way, Mr. Brown had also for some +months past been on the alert to watch for those mistakes, inadvertent +neglects, forgetfulness in his master, which the reader has heard +complained of. So far as he was able to do it, these were at once +silently remedied, and nothing said. Bede detected this: and he knew +that many a night when Mr. Brown stayed over hours in the office, +working diligently, it was to repair some failure of his. Once, and +once only, Bede spoke. "Why are you so late tonight, Mr. Brown?" he +asked, upon going into the office close upon ten o'clock and finding +Mr. Brown up to his elbows in work. "I'm only getting forward for the +morning, sir," was the manager's quiet answer. But Bede, though he +said no more, saw that the clerk had taken some unhappy error of his +in hand, and was toiling to remedy it and avert trouble. So that, +whatever might be Mr. Brown's private sins, Bede Greatorex could +scarcely afford to lose him. + +Once more, for perhaps the five hundredth time, Bede glanced from his +desk at Mr. Brown opposite. No longer need, though, was there to +glance with any speculative view; that had been set at rest. The eyes +that had so mystified Bede Greatorex, bringing to him an uneasy, +puzzling feeling, which wholly refused to elucidate itself, tax his +memory as he would, were at length rendered clear eyes to him. He knew +where and on what occasion he had seen them: and if he had disliked +and dreaded them before, he dreaded them ten times more now. + +"Ah, how do you do, Mr. Channing?" + +Bede, leaving his desk, had been crossing the office to his private +room, when Hamish entered. They shook hands, and stood talking for a +few minutes, not having met since Bede returned from his continental +tour. Just as a change for the worse in Bede struck Mr. Butterby's +keen eye, so, as it appeared, did some change in Hamish Channing +strike Bede. + +"Are you well?" he asked. + +"As well as London and its hard work will let me be," replied Hamish, +with one of his charming smiles, which really was gay and light, in +spite of its tinge of sadness. "It is of no use to dream of green +fields and blue waves when we cannot get to them, you know." + +"_That's_ rest--when you can sit down in the one and idly watch the +other," remarked Bede. "But to go scampering about for a month or two +at railroad speed, neither body nor eye getting holiday, wears out a +man worse than working on in London, Mr. Channing." + +With a slow, lingering gaze at Hamish's refined face, which was +looking strangely worn, and, so to say, etherealised, Bede passed on +to his room Hamish turned to the desk of Hurst and Roland Yorke. + +"How are you?" he asked of them conjointly. + +"As well as cantankerous circumstances and people will let me be," was +the cross reply of Roland, without looking up from his writing. + +Hamish laughed. + +"Just because I wanted a little leisure just now, I've got double work +put on my shoulders," went on Roland. "You remember that time at old +Galloway's, Hamish, when Jenkins and Arthur were both away together, +throwing all the work upon me? Well, we've got a second edition of +that here." + +"Who is away?" inquired Hamish. + +"Little Jenner. And he is good for three of us any day in point of +getting through work. The result is, that Mr. Brown"--giving a defiant +nod to the gentleman opposite--"keeps me at it like a slave. But for +Arthur's being in London, I'd not mind some extra pressure, I'd be +glad to oblige, and do it. Not that Arthur misses me, if one may judge +by appearances," he continued in a deeply-injured tone. "I would not +be two days in a strange place without going to see after _him_." + +"Have you not seen Arthur, then?" inquired Hamish. + +"No, I have not seen him," retorted Roland, with emphasis. "He has +been too much taken up with you and other friends, to think of me. +Perhaps he has gone over to Gerald's interests: and _his_ theory is, +that I'm nobody worth knowing. Mother Jenkins has had her best gown on +for two days, expecting him. Live and learn--and confound it all! I'd +have backed Arthur Channing, for faith and truth, against the world." + +Hamish laughed slightly: any such interlude as this in Roland's +generally easy nature, amused him always. + +"You and I and Mrs. Jenkins are in the same box, old fellow, for +Arthur has not been to me." + +"Oh, hasn't he?" was Roland's answer, delivered with lofty +indifference, and an angry shake of the pen, which blotted his work +all over. "It's a case of Gerald, then. Perhaps he is taking him round +to the Tower, and the waxwork, and the wild beasts--as I thought to +do." + +"I expect it is rather a case of business," remarked Hamish. "You know +what Arthur is: when he has work to do, that supersedes all else. +Still I wonder he did not come round last night. We waited dinner +until half-past seven." + +Roland was occupied in trying to repair the damage he had wilfully +made, and gave no answer. + +"I came in now to ask you for news of him, Roland. Where is he +staying?" + +"He has not called yet to see Annabel," broke in Roland. "And that I +do think shameful." + +"Where is he staying?" + +"Staying! Why at the place in Norfolk Street. He told you where." + +"Yes," assented Hamish, "but he is not staying there. I have just come +from the hotel now." + +"Who says he is not?" + +"The people at the hotel." + +"Oh, they say that, do they?" retorted Roland, turning his resentment +on the people in question. "They are nice ones to keep an hotel." + +"They say he is not there, and has not been there." + +"Then, Hamish, I can tell you that he _is_ there. Didn't I take him +down to it that night from your house, and see him safe in? Didn't he +order his missing portmanteau to be sent to the place as soon as it +turned up? They had better tell _me_ that he is not there!" + +"What they say is this, Roland. That Arthur went there, but left again +the same night, never occupying his bed at all: and they can give me +no information as to where he is staying. I did not put many +questions, but came off to you, thinking you would know his +movements." + +"And that is just what I don't know. Arthur has not chosen to let me +know. He is at the hotel safe enough: why, he was expecting letters +and telegrams and all kinds of things there! They have mistaken the +name and given you the wrong answer." + +Hamish did not think this. He stood in silence, feeling a little +puzzled. And in that moment a faint shadow, not of evil yet, but of +something or other that was wrong, first dawned on his mind. + +"I want to find him," said Hamish. "If it shall turn out that he is +really not at the hotel and they can give me no information, I shall +not know where to look for him or what to think. But for your being +busy, Roland, I would have asked you to go back with me to Norfolk +Street." + +Roland looked across at Mr. Brown, the light of eagerness illumining +his face. He did not ask to go, but it was a strong silent appeal. Not +that he had any doubt on the score of Arthur; but the walking to +Norfolk Street was in prospective a very delightful interlude to the +evening's hard work. But no answering look of assent did he receive. + +"We'd be back in an hour, Brown, and I'd set to work like a brick. Or +in less than that if we take a cab," briskly added Roland. "I have +some money to pay for one; I've gone about since yesterday morning +with a sovereign in my pocket, on the chance of standing treat for +some sights, in case I found the chance of going out with Arthur +Channing. Didn't Mrs. J. read me a lecture on not spending it in waste +when she handed it over!" + +"If you would promise to be back within the hour, Mr. Yorke, and +really set to work with a will, you should go with Mr. Channing," was +the manager's answer, who had of course heard the whole colloquy. In +Roland's present restless temper, he was likely to retard work more +than to advance it, especially if denied the expedition to Norfolk +Street: as nobody knew better than Mr. Brown. Roland could work with a +will; and no doubt would on his return, if allowed to go. So that it +was policy to let him. + +"Oh, thank you, Brown; that is generous," said he gratefully, as he +leaped off his stool and got his hat. "I'll work away till morning +light for you if it's necessary, and make no mistakes." + +But Arthur was not to be found at the hotel in Norfolk Street. And the +tale told there was rather a singular one. Of course Roland, darting +in head-foremost in his impetuous way, demanded to see Mr. Arthur +Channing, and also what they meant by denying that he was staying at +it. The waiter came forward in the absence of the principal, and gave +them the few particulars (all he knew) that Hamish had not before +stayed to ask. In fact, Hamish had thought that Arthur must have taken +some prejudice against the hotel and so quitted it for another. The +following was the substance of the tale. + +Mr. Arthur Channing had written from Helstonleigh to desire that a +room should be prepared for him, and any letters that might come +addressed to him be taken care of. Upon his arrival at the hotel +(which must have been when Roland left him at it) he was informed that +his room was ready, and asked if he would like to see it. Presently, +he answered, and went into the coffee-room. The man (this same one +telling the story) left him in it reading his letters, after supplying +him with writing materials, Arthur saying that when he wanted anything +he would ring. It was an exceedingly quiet hotel, not much frequented +at any time; the three or four people staying in it were out that +evening, so that Arthur was quite alone. By-and-by, the man said, he +went in again, and found the room empty. From that time they had +neither seen nor heard of Arthur. + +This was the substance of the account, and it sounded somewhat +incredible. Had Arthur been like Roland Yorke for instance, liable to +dart about in random impetuosity, without the smallest concern for +others, it might have been thought that he had taken himself off in a +freak and forgotten to give notice; but Arthur was not likely to do +such a thing. Hamish stood quietly while he listened to this: Roland +had put himself upon a table, and sat there pulling fiercely at his +whiskers, his long legs dangling downwards. + +"I came with him to the door my own self," burst forth Roland before +the man had well finished, as if that were a disputed point. "I +watched him come right into it. That was at eight o'clock." + +"Yes, sir; it was about that time, sir, that Mr. Arthur Channing got +in," answered the waiter, who gave them his name as Binns. + +"And when I came down, an hour later, you told me Mr. Arthur Channing +had gone out; you know you did," spoke Roland, who seemed altogether +out of his reckoning at the state of affairs, and wanted to blame +somebody. "You never said he had gone for good." + +"Well, sir, but how was I to think he had gone for good?" mildly +inquired the waiter. "It have puzzled the house sir: we don't know +what to suppose. Towards eleven o'clock, when the gentleman did not +come in, I began to think the chambermaid must have showed him to his +room, being tired, perhaps; but she said she had not, and we went up +and found the room unoccupied. We have never heard of him at all +since, gentlemen." + +The shadow looming over Hamish grew a little darker. He began to think +all this was very strange. + +"The railway people were to have sent his portmanteau here," cried +Roland; who, when much put out, could not reason at all, and spoke any +thought that came uppermost. + +"Yes, sir, the portmanteau came the next morning, sir. I carried it up +to his room, sir, and it is there still." + +"What! unopened!" exclaimed Hamish. "I mean, has Mr. Arthur Channing +not come here to claim it?" + +"No, sir; it's waiting for him against he do." + +It grew serious now. Whatever abode Arthur might have removed to, he +would not fail to claim his portmanteau, as common sense told Hamish +Roland, hearing the answer, began to stare. + +"Have you any idea how long he remained in, writing?" asked Hamish. + +"No, sir. It might have been half-past eight or so, when I came back +into the room, and found him gone. But I don't think he had written at +all, sir, for the ink and things was on the table just as I placed +them; they didn't seem to have been used." + +"Were many letters waiting for him?" + +"Four or five, sir. And there was a bit of a mishap with one of them, +sir, for which I am very sorry. In taking them out of the rack to give +to him, sir, I accidentally overlooked one, and left it in, so that +Mr. Arthur Channing never had it. It's in there now." + +"Be so kind as to bring it to me." + +The man went for the letter, and gave it to Hamish. It was in Charles +Channing's handwriting, and bore the Marseilles post-mark. A proof +that Charley had arrived there safely: which was a bit of gladness for +Hamish. + +"I suppose you will not grumble at my opening this?" he said to the +man, with a smile, as he took out his card and handed it to him. "I am +Mr. Arthur Channing's brother." + +"Oh, sir! I can see that by the likeness; no need to tell it to me," +was the answer. "It's all right, sir, I'm sure. These other three +letters have come since, sir. The big one by this morning's post, the +other two later." + +The big one, as the man called it, a thick, official-looking, blue +envelope, was in Mr. Galloway's handwriting. Roland knew the proctor's +seal too well. That one Hamish did not feel at liberty to open, but +the others he did, and thought the circumstances fully justified it. +Running his eyes over Charles's first, he found it had been written on +board, as the steamer was nearing Marseilles. It stated that he was +feeling very much better for the voyage, and thought of staying quite +a week in Paris as he came through it. So far, _that_ was good news; +and now Hamish opened the other two. + +Each of them, dated that morning, proved to be from a separate firm of +solicitors in London and contained a few brief words of inquiry why +Mr. Arthur Channing had not kept the appointment with them on the +previous day. + +Was Arthur _lost_, then? Hamish felt startled to tremor. As to poor +Roland, he could only stare in helpless wonder, and openly lament that +he had been such a wicked jackanapes as to attribute unkindness to +Arthur. + +"When I knew in my heart he was the best and truest man, the bravest +gentleman the world ever produced, Hamish. Oh! I am a nice one." + +Remaining at the hotel would not help them, for the waiter could tell +no more than he had told. Hamish pointed to his address on the card +already given, and they walked away up Norfolk Street in silence. +Roland broke it as they turned into the Strand, his low voice taking a +tone of dread. + +"I say, Hamish! Arthur had a lot of money about him." + +"A lot of money!" repeated Hamish. + +"He had. He brought it up from old Galloway. You--you--don't think he +could have been murdered for it?" + +"Hush, Roland!" + +"Oh, well--But the roughs would not mind doing such a thing at Port +Natal." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. +RESTLESS WANDERINGS. + + +The commotion was great. Six days had elapsed since Arthur Channing's +singular disappearance, and he had never been heard of. + +Six days! In a case of this nature, six days to anxious friends will +seem almost like six weeks. Nay, and longer. And, while on the topic, +it may be well and right to state that these circumstances, this loss, +occurred just as written; or about to be written; and are not a +réchauffé from a dish somewhat recently served to the public in real +life. + +Arthur Channing arrived at the Euston Square Station on a certain +evening already told of, and was met there by Roland Yorke. Later, +soon after eight, he went to the private hotel in Norfolk Street, in +which a room had been engaged for him, and where he had stayed before. +Roland saw him go in: the waiter, Binns, received him, and left him in +the coffee-room reading his letters. Upon the waiter's entering the +room nearly half an hour subsequently, he found it empty. A small +parcel and an umbrella belonging to him were there, but he himself was +not. Naturally the waiter concluded that he had but stepped out +temporarily. He was mistaken, however. From that moment nothing had +been seen or heard of Arthur Channing. + +If ever Roland Yorke went nigh to lose his mind, it was now. Strangers +thought he must be a candidate for Bedlam. Totally neglecting the +exigencies of the office, he went tearing about like a lunatic. From +one place to another, from this spot to that, backwards and forwards +and round again, strode Roland, as if his legs went on wires. His +aspect was fierce, his hair wild. The main resting-posts, at which he +halted by turns, were Scotland Yard, Waterloo Bridge, and the London +docks. The best that Roland's dark fears could suggest was, that +Arthur had been murdered. Murdered for the sake of the money he had +about him, and then put quietly out of the way. Waterloo Bridge, +bearing a reputation for having been a former chosen receptacle for +mysterious carpet-bags, was of course pitched upon by Roland as an +ill-omened element in the tragedy now. It had also just happened that +a man, drowned from one of the bridges, had been found in the London +docks: having drifted in, no doubt, with an entering or leaving ship. +This was quite enough for Roland. Morning after morning would find him +there; and St. Katharine's docks, being nearer, sometimes had him +twice in the day. + +Putting aside Roland's migrations, and his outspoken fears of dark +deeds, others, interested, were to the full as much alarmed as he. The +facts were more than singular; they were mysterious. From the time +that Arthur Channing had entered the hotel in Norfolk Street, or--to +be strictly correct--from a few minutes subsequent to that, when the +waiter, Binns, had left him in the coffee-room, he seemed to have +disappeared. The police could make nothing of it. Mr. Galloway, who +had been at once communicated with by Hamish Channing, was nearly as +much assailed by fears as Roland, and sent up letters or telegrams +every other hour in the day. + +The first and most natural theory taken up, as to the cause of the +disappearance, was this--that Arthur Channing had received some news, +amidst the letters given to him, that caused him to absent himself. +But for the circumstance of the letter (written by Charles Channing on +board the P. and O. steamer, and posted at Marseilles) _not_ having +been handed to Arthur, it might have been assumed that it had +contained bad news of Charles, and that Arthur had hastened away to +him. As the letter was omitted to be given to him--and it was an +exceedingly curious incident in the problem that it should so have +fallen out--this hope could not be entertained: Charles was well; and +by that time, no doubt, in Paris enjoying himself. But, even had +circumstances enabled them to take up this hope, it could not have +lasted long: had Arthur been called suddenly away, to Charles, or +elsewhere, he would not have failed to let his friends know it. + +His portmanteau remained at the hotel unsought for; with his umbrella +and small parcel, containing the few articles he had bought earlier in +the night; full proof that when he quitted the hotel, he had meant to +return to it. Now and again, even yet, a letter would reach the hotel +from some stray individual or other, whom he ought to have seen on +business during his sojourn in London, and had not. The letters, like +the luggage, remained unclaimed, except by Hamish. In reply to +inquiries, Mr. Galloway stated that the amount of money brought up to +town by Arthur from himself, was sixty pounds; chiefly in five-pound +notes. This was, of course, exclusive of what Arthur might have about +him of his own. Mr. Galloway, in regard to the transmission of money, +seemed to do things like nobody else: who, save himself, but would +have given Arthur an order on his London bankers, Glyn and Co.? Not +he. He happened to have the sixty pounds by him, and so sent it up in +hard cash. + +The first thing the police did, upon being summoned to the search, was +to endeavour to ascertain what letters Arthur had received that night +upon entering the hotel in Norfolk Street, and whom they were from. +The waiter said there were either four or five; he was not sure which, +but thought the former. He fancied there had been five in all; and, as +the one was accidentally left in the rack, it must, he felt nearly +sure, have been but four he delivered over. One of them--he was +positive of this--had arrived that same evening, only an hour or two +before Mr. Arthur Channing. The young person who presided over the +interests of a kind of office, or semi-public parlour, where inquiries +were made by visitors, and whence orders were issued, was a Miss +Whiffin. She was an excessively smart lady in a rustling silk, with +frizzy curls of a light tow on the top of her forehead, and a +remarkable chignon behind that might have been furnished by the +coiffeur of Mrs. Bede Greatorex. Miss Whiffin could not, or would not, +recollect what number of letters there had been waiting for Mr. +Channing. Being a supercilious young lady--or, at least, doing her +best to appear one--she assumed to think it a piece of impertinence to +be questioned at all. Yes she remembered there were a small few +letters waiting for Mr. Arthur Channing; foreign or English; _she_ did +not notice which: if Binns said it _was_ five, no doubt it was five. She +considered it exceedingly unreasonable of any customer, not to say +ungentlemanly, to write and order a bedroom, and walk into the house +and then walk out again, and never occupy it: it was a thing she +neither understood nor had been accustomed to. + +And that was all that could be got out of Miss Whiffin. Binns' +opinion, that the number of letters given to Arthur had been four, was +in a degree borne out: for that was just the number they had been able +to trace as having been written to him. Three of them were notes from +people in London, making appointments for Arthur to call on them the +next day; the fourth (the one spoken of by Binns as having arrived +just before Arthur himself) was known to be from Mr. Galloway, that +gentleman having despatched it by the day-mail from Helstonleigh. + +What could have taken Arthur out again? That was the point to be, if +possible, solved. Unless it could be, neither the police nor anybody +else had the smallest clue as to the quarter their inquiries should be +directed to. Had he quitted London again (which seemed highly +improbable), then the railway stations must be visited for news of +him: had he but strolled out for a walk, it must be the streets. + +One of the three notes mentioned came from a firm of proctors in +Parliament Street. It contained these words from the senior partner, +who was an old friend of Mr. Galloway's:--"If it were convenient for +you to call on me the evening of your arrival in town, I should be +glad, as I wish to see you myself, and I am leaving home the following +morning for a week. I shall remain at the office until nine at night, +on the chance that you may come." + +That Arthur, on reading the note, might have hastened to make a call +in Parliament Street, was more than probable.--He knew London fairly +well, having been up on two previous occasions for Mr. Galloway.--But +Arthur never made his appearance there. Though of course that did not +prove that he did not set out with the intention of going. Another +feasible conjecture, started by Roland Yorke, was, that he might have +forgotten some trifling article or other amidst his previous +purchases, and gone out again to get it. Allowing that one or other of +these suppositions was correct, it did not explain the mystery of his +subsequent disappearance. + +What became of him? If, according to this theory, he walked, or ran, +up Norfolk Street to the Strand, and turned to the right or the left, +or bore on across the road in pursuance of his purposed way, wherever +that might be, how far did he go on that day? Where had his steps +halted? at what point had he turned aside? How, and where, and in what +manner had he disappeared? It was in truth a strange mystery, and none +was able to answer the questions. A thousand times a day Roland +declared he had been murdered--but that assertion was not looked upon +as a satisfactory answer. + +Upon a barrel, which happened to stand, end upwards, in a corner of an +outer office at one of the police stations, into which he had gone +dashing with dishevelled hair and agitated mien, sat Roland Yorke. Six +days of search had gone by, and this was the seventh. With every +morning that rose and brought forth no news of Arthur, Roland's state +of mind grew worse and worse. The police for miles round were +beginning to dread him, for he bothered their lives out. The shops in +the Strand could say nearly the same. When it was found beyond doubt +that Arthur was really missing, Roland had gone to the shops ringing +and knocking frantically, just as he had done at Mrs. Jones's door, +and bursting into those accessible. It happened to be evening: for a +whole day was wasted in inquiring at more likely places, proctors' and +solicitors' offices, Gerald's chambers, and the like: and so a great +many of the shops were closed. Into all that he could get, dashed +Roland, asking for news of a gentleman; a "very handsome young fellow +nearly as tall as himself, who might have gone in to buy something." +Every conceivable article, displayed or not displayed for sale, did +Roland's vivid imagination picture as having possibly been needed by +Arthur, from "candied rock" at a sweet-stuff mart to a stomach-pump at +the doctor's. Some, serving behind the counters, thought him mad; +others that he might have designs on the till; all threatened to give +him into custody. In the excited state of Roland's mind it was not to +be expected that he could tell a quiet, coherent tale. When Hamish +Channing went later, with his courteous explanation and calm bearing, +though his inward anxiety was quite as great as Roland's, it was a +different thing altogether, and he was received with the utmost +consideration. Threats and denial availed not with Roland: day by day, +as each day came round, the shops had him again. In he was, like a man +that stood head downwards and had no mind left; begging them to try +and recall every soul who might have gone in to make purchases that +night. But the shops could not help him. And, as the days went on, and +nothing came of it, Roland began to lay the fault on the police. + +"I never heard of such a thing," he was saying this morning as he sat +tilting on the high barrel, and wiping his hot face after his run; +which might have been one of twelve miles, or so, comprising Scotland +Yard, and in and out of every shop in the Strand and Fleet Street, and +all round the docks and back again. "Six days since he was missing, +and no earthly news of him discovered yet! Not as much as a _scrap_ of +a clue! Where's the use of a country's having its police at all, +unless they can do better than that?" + +He spoke in an injured tone; one that he would have liked to make +angrily passionate. Roland's only audience was a solitary stout +policeman, with a prominent, buttoned-up chest and red face, who stood +with his back against the mantelpiece, reading a newspaper. + +"We have not had no clue to work upon, you see, Mr. Yorke," replied +the man, who bore the euphonious name of Spitchcock, and was, so to +say, on intimate terms with Roland, through being invaded by him so +often. + +"No skill, you mean, Spitchcock. I know what the English police are; +had cause to know it, and the mistakes they make, years ago, long +before I went to Port Natal. I could almost say, without being far +from the truth, that it was the pig-headed, awful bungling of one of +your lot that drove me to Africa." + +"How was that, sir?" + +"I'm not going to tell you. Sometimes I wish I had stayed out there; I +should have been nearly as well off. What with not getting on, and +being picked short up by having my dearest friend murdered and flung +over Waterloo Bridge--for that's what it will turn out to be--things +don't look bright over here. I know this much, Spitchcock: if it had +happened in Port Natal, he would have been found ere this--dead or +alive." + +"Yes, that must be a nice place, that must, by your description of it, +sir," remarked Spitchcock with disparagement, as he turned his +newspaper. + +"It was nicer than this is just now, at any rate," returned Roland. "I +never heard at Port Natal of a gentleman being pounced upon and +murdered as he walked quietly along the public street at half-past +eight o'clock in the evening. Such a villainous thing didn't happen +when I was there." + +"You've got to hear it of London yet, Mr. Yorke." + +"Now don't _you_ be pig-headed, Spitchcock. What else, do you suppose, +could have happened to him? I can't say he was actually murdered in +the open Strand: but I do say he must have been drawn into one of the +alleys, or some other miserable place, with a pitch-plaster on his +mouth, or chloroform to his nose, and there done for. Who is to know +that he did not open his pocketbook in the train, coming up, and some +thief caught sight of the notes, and dodged him? Come, Spitchcock?" + +"He'd be safe enough in the Strand," remarked the man. + +"Oh, would he, though!" fiercely rejoined Roland, panting with emotion +and heat. "Who is to know, then, but he had to dive into some bad +places where the thieves live to do an errand for old Galloway, +perhaps pay away one of his notes--and went out at once to do it? Do +you mean to say that's unlikely?" + +"No, that's not unlikely. If he had to do anything of the sort that +took him into the thieves' alleys, that's how he might have come to +grief," avowed Mr. Spitchcock. "Many a one gets put out of the way +during a year, and no bones is made over it." + +Roland jumped up with force so startling that he nearly upset the +barrel. "That's how it must have been, Spitchcock! What can I do in +it? I never cared for any one in the world as I cared for him, and +never shall. Except--except somebody else--and that's nothing to +anybody." + +"But this here's altogether another guess sort of thing," remonstrated +Mr. Spitchcock. "Them cases don't get found out through the party not +being inquired for: his friends, if he's got any, thinks he's, may be, +gone off on the spree, abroad or somewhere, and never asks after him. +_This_ is different." + +He spoke in a cool calm kind of way. It produced no effect on Roland. +The fresh theory had been started, and that was enough. So many +conjectures had been hazarded and rejected in their hopelessness +during the past few days that to catch hold of another was to Roland +something like a spring of water would have been, had he come upon one +during his travels in the arid deserts of Africa. Ordering Spitchcock +to propound this view to the first of his superiors that should look +in, Roland went speeding on his course again to seek an interview with +Hamish Channing. + +Making a detour first of all down Wellington Street: for, to go by +Waterloo Bridge without inquiring whether anything had "turned up," +was beyond Roland. Perhaps it was because Arthur seemed to have +disappeared within the radius of what might be called its vicinity, +taken in conjunction with its assumed ill-reputation--as a convenient +medium over which dead cats and the like might be pitched into the +safe, all-concealing river--that induced Roland Yorke to suspect the +spot. It haunted his thoughts awake, his dreams asleep. One whole +night he had sat on its parapet, watching the water below, watching +the solitary passengers above. The police had got to know him now and +what he wanted; and if they laughed at him behind his back, were civil +to him before his face. + +Onward pressed Roland, his head first in eagerness, his long legs +skimming after. How many wayfarers and apple-stalls he had knocked +over (so to say, walked through) since the search began, he would have +had some difficulty to reckon up. As to bringing him to account for +damages, that was simply impracticable. Before the capsized individual +could understand what had happened to him, or the bewildered +apple-woman so much as looked at her fallen wares, Roland was out of +sight and hearing. A young shoe-black at the corner had got to think +the gentleman, pressing onwards everlastingly up and down the street, +never turning aside from his course, might be the Wandering Jew; and +would cease brushing to gaze up at Roland whenever he passed. + +Look at him now, reader. The tall, fine, well-dressed young fellow, +his pale face anxious with not-attempted-to-be-concealed care, his +arms swaying, the silk-lined breasts of his frock-coat thrown back, as +he strides on resolutely down Wellington Street! Neither to the right +nor the left looks he: his eyes are cast forth over the people's +heads, towards the bridge and the river that it spans, as if staring +for the information he is going to seek. One great feature in Roland +was his hopefulness. Each time he started for Waterloo Bridge, or +Scotland Yard, or Hamish Channing's, or Mr. Greatorex's, or any other +place where news might possibly be awaiting him, renewed hope was to +the full as buoyant in his heart as it had been that memorable day +when he had anchored in the beautiful harbour of Port Natal, and gazed +on the fair shore with all its charming scenery that seemed to Roland +as a very paradise. Bright with hope as his heart had been then, so +was it now in the intermittent intervals. So was it at this moment as +he bore on, down Wellington Street. + +"Well," said he to the toll-keeper. "Anything turned up?" + +"Not a bit on't," responded the man. "Nor likely to." Roland went +through, perched himself on the parapet, and took his fill of gazing +at the river. Now on this side the bridge, now leaping over to that. A +steamer passed, a rowing-boat or two; but Arthur Channing was not in +them. Roland looked to the mud on the sides, he threw his gaze +forwards and backwards, up and down, round and about. In vain. All +features were very much the same that they had been from the day of +his first search: certainly returning to him no signs of Arthur. And +down went hope again, as completely as the pears had gone, earlier in +the day, at a corner stall. Despair had possession of him now. + +"You say that no suspicious character went on to the bridge that +night, so far as you can recollect," resumed Roland in the gloomiest +tone, when he had walked lingeringly back to the man at the gate. +Lingeringly, because some kind of clue seemed to lie with that bridge +and he was always loth to quit it. If he did not suspect Arthur might +be lying buried underneath the stone pavement, it seemed something +like it. + +"I didn't say so," interrupted the gate-keeper, in rather a surly +tone. "What I said was, as there warn't nothing suspicious chucked +over that night." + +"You can't tell. You might not hear." + +"Well, I haven't got no time to jabber with you today." + +"If I kept this turnstile, I should make it my business to mark all +suspicious night characters that went through; and watch them." + +"Oh, would you! And how 'ud you know which was the suspicious ones? +Come! They don't always carry their bad marks on their backs, they +don't; some on 'em don't look no different from you." + +Roland bit his lips to keep down a retort. All in Arthur's interest. +Upon giving the man, on a recent visit, what the latter had called +"sauce," his migration on and off the bridge had been threatened with +a summary stoppage. So he was careful. + +"Well, I've just had a clue given me by the police. And I don't hold +the smallest doubt now that he _was_ put out of the way. And this is +the likeliest place for him to have been brought to. I don't think it +would take much skill, after he had been chloroformed to death, to +shoot him over, out of a Hansom cab. Brought up upon the pavement, +level with the parapet, he'd go as easily over, if propelled, as I +should if I jumped it." + +The toll-keeper answered by a growl and some sharp words. Truth to +say, he felt personally aggrieved at his bridge being subjected to +these scandalizing suspicions, and resented them accordingly. Roland +did not wait. He went off in search of Hamish, and ere he had left the +bridge behind out of sight, hope began again to spring up within him. +So buoyant is the human heart in general, and Roland's in particular. +Not--let it always be Understood--the hope that Arthur would be found +uninjured, only some news of him that might serve to solve the +mystery. + +Shooting out of a Hansom cab (not dead, after the manner of a picture +just drawn, but alive) came a gentleman, just as Roland was passing +it. The cab had whirled round the corner of Wellington Street, +probably on its way from the station, and pulled up at a shop in the +Strand. It was Sir Vincent Yorke. Roland stopped; seized his hand in +his impulsive manner, and began entering upon the story of Arthur +Channing's disappearance without the smallest preliminary greeting of +any kind. Every moment Roland could spare from running, he spent in +talking. He talked to Mrs. Jones, he talked to Henry William Ollivera, +he talked to Hurst and Jenner, he would have talked to the moon. Mr. +Brown had been obliged to forbid him the office, unless he could come +to it to work. In his rapid, excited manner, he poured forth the +story, circumstance after circumstance, in Sir Vincent's ear, that +gentleman feeling slightly bewildered, and not best pleased at the +unexpected arrest. + +"Oh--ah--I dare say he'll turn up all right," minced Sir Vincent. "A +fella's not obliged to acquaint his friends with his movements. Just +got up to town?--ah--yes--just for a day or two. Good day. Hope you'll +find him." + +"You don't understand who it is, Vincent," spoke Roland, resenting the +want of interest; which, to say the best of it, was but lukewarm. "It +is William Yorke's brother-in-law, Annabel's brother, and the dearest +friend I've ever had in life. I've told you of Arthur Channing before. +He has the best and bravest heart living; he is the truest man and +gentleman the world ever produced." + +"An--yes--good day! I'm in a hurry." + +Sir Vincent made his escape into the shop. Roland went on to Hamish +Channing's office. Hamish could not neglect his work, however Roland +might abandon his. + +But Hamish would have liked to do it. In good truth, this most +unaccountable disappearance of his brother was rendering him in a +measure unfit for his duties. He might almost as well have devoted his +whole time just now to the interests of the search, for his thoughts +were with it always, and his interruptions were many. To him the +police carried reports; it was on him Roland Yorke rattled in half a +dozen times in the course of the day, upsetting all order and quiet, +and business too, by the commotion he raised. To see Roland burst in, +breath gone, hair awry, face white, chest heaving with emotion, was +nothing at all extraordinary; but Hamish did wish, as the doors swung +back after Roland, once more, on this morning, that he would not burst +in quite so often. Perhaps Roland was a little more excited than +usual, from the full belief that he had at length got hold of the +right clue. + +"It's all out, Hamish," he panted. "Arthur's as good as found. He went +out of the hotel to do some errand for Galloway; it took him into +those bad, desperate, pick-pocketing places where the police dare +hardly go themselves, and that's where it must have been done." + +Hamish laid down his pen. The colour deserted his face, a faintness +stole over his heart. + +"How has it been discovered, Roland?" he inquired, in a hushed tone. + +"Spitchcock did it. You know the fellow,--red face, fat enough for +two. I was with him just now; and in consequence of what he said, it's +the conclusion I have come to." + +Naturally, Hamish pressed for details. Upon Roland's supplying them, +with accuracy as faithful as his state of mind allowed, Hamish knew +not whether to be most relieved or vexed. Roland had neither wish nor +thought to deceive; and his positive assertion was made only in +accordance with the belief he had worked himself into. To find that +the present "clue," as Roland called it, turned out to be a +supposititious one of that impulsive gentleman's mind, on a par with +the theory he entertained in regard to Waterloo Bridge, was a relief +undoubtedly to Hamish; but, nevertheless, he would have preferred +Roland's keeping the whole to himself. + +"I wish you'd not take up these fancies, Roland," he said, as severely +as his sweet nature ever allowed him to speak. "It is so useless to +bring me unnecessary alarms." + +"You may take my word for it that's how it will turn out to have been +Hamish." + +"No. Had Mr. Galloway charged him with any commission to unsafe parts +that night--or to safe ones, either--he would have written up since to +tell me." + +"Oh, would he, though!" cried Roland, wiping his hot brow. "You don't +know Galloway as I do, Hamish. He's just likely to have given such a +commission (if he had it to give) and to think no more about it. +Somebody ought to go to Helstonleigh." + +Hamish made no reply to this. He was busy with his papers. + +"Will you go, Hamish?" + +"To Helstonleigh? Certainly not. There is not the slightest necessity +for it. I am quite certain that Mr. Galloway holds no clue that he has +not imparted." + +"Then if nobody goes down, I will go," said Roland, his eyes lighting +with earnestness, his cheeks flushing. "I never thought to show myself +in Helstonleigh again until fortune had altered with me; but I'd +despise myself if I could let my own feelings of shame stand in old +Arthur's light." + +"Don't do anything of the kind," advised Hamish. "Believe me, Roland, +it is altogether an ideal notion you have taken up. Your impulsive +nature deceives you." + +"I shall go, Hamish. I am not obliged to carry your consent with me." + +"I should not give it," said Hamish, slightly laughing, but speaking +in an unmistakably firm accent. + +He was interrupted by a hacking cough. As Roland watched him, waiting +until it should cease, watched the hectic colour it left behind it, a +sudden recollection came over him of _one_ who used to cough in much +the same way before he died. + +"I say, old fellow, you've caught cold," he said. + +"No, I think not." + +"I'd get rid of that cough, Hamish. It makes me think of Joe Jenkins. +Don't be offended: I'm not comparing you together. He was the thinnest +and poorest lamp-post going, a miserable reed in the hands of Mrs. J.; +and you are bright, handsome, fastidious Hamish Channing. But you +cough alike." + +With the last words Roland went dashing out. When he had a purpose in +view, head and heels were alike impetuous, and perhaps no earthly +power, unless it had been the appearance of Arthur, could have +arrested him in the end he had in view--that of starting for +Helstonleigh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. +A NEW IDEA FOR MR. OLLIVERA. + + +The Reverend Henry William Ollivera sat in his room at a late +breakfast: he had been called abroad to a sick parishioner just as he +was about to sit down to it at nine in the morning. With his usual +abandonment of self, he hastened away, swallowing a thimbleful of +coffee without milk or sugar, and carrying with him a crust of bread. +It was nearly one when he came back again, having taken a morning +service for a friend, and this was his real breakfast. Mrs. Jones, who +cared for the comforts of the people about her in her tart way, had +sent up what she called buttered eggs, a slice of ham, and a hot roll. +The table-cloth was beautifully white: the coffeepot looked as good as +silver. + +But, tempting as the meal really was, hungry as Mr. Ollivera might be +supposed to be, he was letting it get cold before him. A newspaper lay +on the stand near, but he did not unfold it. The strangely eager light +in his eyes was very conspicuous as he sat, seeing nothing, lost in a +reverie; the fevered hands were still. Some months had elapsed now +since his wild anxiety, to unfold the mystery enshrouding his +brother's death, had set-in afresh, through the disclosure of Mr. +Willett; a burning, restless anxiety, that never seemed wholly to quit +his mind, by night or by day. + +But nothing had come of it. Seek as Mr. Ollivera would, he as yet +obtained no result. An exceedingly disagreeable and curious doubt had +crossed his thoughts at times--whence arising he scarcely knew--of one +whom he would have been very unwilling to suspect, even though the +adverse appearances were greater than at present. And that was Alletha +Rye. Perhaps what first of all struck him as strange, was Miss Rye's +ill-concealed agitation upon any mention of the subject, her startling +change of colour, her shrinking desire to avoid it. At the time of Mr. +Willett's communication the clergyman had renewed his habit of going +into Mrs. Jones's parlour to converse upon the topic; previously he +had been letting it slip into disuse, and then it was that the +remarkable demeanour of Miss Rye dawned gradually on his notice. At +first he thought it an accident, next he decided that it was strange, +afterwards he grew to introduce the topic suddenly on purpose to +observe her. And what he saw was beginning to make a most unpleasant +impression on him. A very slight occurrence, only the unexpected +meeting of Mr. Butterby that morning, had brought the old matter all +back to him. As he was hastening home from church, really wanting his +breakfast, he encountered Jonas Butterby the detective. The latter +said he had been in town nearly a week on business (the reader saw him +at the commencement, in conjunction with Mr. Bede Greatorex), but was +returning to Helstonleigh that night or on the morrow. For a few +minutes they stood conversing of the past, Butterby saying that +nothing had "turned up." + +"Have you not heard of Godfrey Pitman?" suddenly asked Mr. Ollivera. + +The question was put sharply: and for once the clever man was at +fault. Did Mr. Ollivera mean to imply that he _had_ heard of +Pitman?--that he, the clergyman, was aware that he had heard? Or, was +it but a simple question? In the uncertainty Mr. Butterby made a +pause, evidently in some kind of doubt or hesitation, and glanced +keenly at the questioner from under his eyebrows. Mr. Ollivera marked +it all. + +"_Have_ you heard of him, then?" + +"The way that folks's thoughts get wandering!" exclaimed Butterby, +with a charming air of innocence. "Pitman, says you: if I wasn't a +running of my head on that other man--Willett. And he has got an +attack of the shivers from drinking; that's the last gazetted news of +him, sir. As to that Godfrey Pitman--the less we say about him, the +better, unless we could say it to some purpose. Good morning, Reverend +Sir; I've got my work cut out for me today." + +"One moment," said Mr. Ollivera, detaining him. "I want your opinion +upon a question I am going to ask. Could a woman, think you, have +killed my brother?" + +Perhaps the question was so unexpected as slightly to startle even the +detective. Instead of answering it, his green eyes shot out another +keen glance at Mr. Ollivera, and they did not quit his face again. The +latter supposed he was not understood. + +"I mean, could a woman, think you, have had the physical strength to +fire the pistol?" + +"Do you ask me that, sir, because you suspect one?" + +"I cannot say I go so far as to _suspect_ one. It has occurred to me +latterly as being within the range of possibility. I wish you would +answer my question, Mr. Butterby?" + +"In course, from the point you put it, it might have been a woman just +as well as a man; some women be every bit as strong, and a sight +bolder," was Mr. Butterby's answer. "But I can't wait, sir, now," he +added, as he turned away and said good morning once more. + +"It was queer, his asking that," very softly repeated Mr. Butterby, +between his lips, as he walked on at a quicker pace than usual. + +Mr. Ollivera got home with his head full of this; and, as usual under +the circumstances, was letting his late breakfast grow cold before +him. Mrs. Jones, entering the room on some domestic errand, gave him +the information that Roland Yorke had just come in in a fine state of +commotion (which was nothing unusual), saying Arthur Channing was as +good as found murdered; and that he was, in consequence, off to +Helstonleigh. Before Mr. Ollivera, setting to his breakfast then with +a will, could get downstairs, Roland had gone skimming out again. So +the clergyman turned his steps to the house of Greatorex and +Greatorex. + +It could not be but that the singular and prolonged disappearance of +Arthur Channing should be exciting commotion in the public mind. +Though it had not been made, so to say, a public matter, at least a +portion of the public knew of it. The name did not appear in the +papers; but the "mysterious disappearance of a gentleman" was becoming +quite a treasure to the news-compilers. Greatorex and Greatorex had +taken it up warmly, as much from real intrinsic interest in the affair +itself, as that Annabel was an inmate of their house. Arthur Channing +had stood, unsolicited, over John Ollivera's grave at the stealthy +midnight burial service; and Mr. Greatorex did not forget it. He had +offered his services at once to Hamish Channing. "We have," he said, +"a wide experience of London life, and will do for you in it all that +can be done." Bede, though kindly anxious, wished the matter could be +set at rest, for it was costing him a clerk. Roland candidly avowed +that he was no more fit for his work at present, than he would be to +rule the patients in St. Luke's; and Bede privately believed this was +only truth. Little Jenner was home again, and took Roland's work as +well as his own. + +One very singular phase of the attendant surroundings was this--so +many people appeared to be missing. The one immediately in question, +Arthur Channing, was but a unit in the number. Scarcely an hour in the +day passed but the police either received voluntary news of somebody's +disappearance; or, through their inquiries after Arthur, gained it for +themselves. If space allowed, and these volumes were the proper medium +for it, a most singularly interesting account might be given of the +facts, every word of which would be true. + +Henry Ollivera found Mr. Greatorex in the dining-room finishing his +luncheon. In point of fact it was his dinner, for he was going out of +town that afternoon and would not be home until late. Bede, who rarely +took luncheon, though he sometimes made a pretence of going up for it, +was biting morsels off a hard biscuit, as he stood against the wall by +the mantelpiece, near the handsome pier-glass that in his days of +vanity he had been so fond of glancing in. Mrs. Bede Greatorex was at +table; also the little girl, Jane, whose dinner it was. The board was +extravagantly spread, displaying fish and fowl, and other delicacies, +and Mrs. Bede was solacing herself with a pint of sparkling hock, +which stood at her elbow. She looked flushed; at least, as much as a +made-up face can look, and in her eyes there shone an angry light: +perhaps at the non-appearance of two visitors she had expected, +perhaps because she had just come from one of her violent-tempered +attacks on Miss Channing. Mr. Greatorex, like his son Bede, did not +appear to appreciate the good things: he was making his dinner off one +plain dish and a glass of pale ale. + +"You will sit down and take some, William?" + +Mr. Ollivera declined; he had just swallowed his breakfast. From the +absence of Miss Channing at the table, he drew an augury that the ill +news spoken of by Mrs. Jones must be correct. But Mr. Greatorex said +he was not aware of anything fresh; and a smile crossed his lips upon +hearing that Roland was the author of the report. Bede laughed +outright. + +"If you only knew how often he has come in, startling us with +extraordinary tales, you'd have learnt by this time what faith to have +put in Roland Yorke," said Bede. "A man more sensitively nervous than +he is, or ever will be, would have had brain-fever with all this +talking and walking and mental excitement." + +"He says, I understand, that he is going down to Helstonleigh, to get +some information from Mr. Galloway," said the clergyman. + +"Oh, is he? As good go there as stay here, for all the work he does. +He'd start for the moon if there were a road to convey him to it." + +"I wonder you give him so much holiday, Bede," remarked Mr. Ollivera. + +"He takes it," answered Bede. "He is of very little use at his best, +but we don't choose to discharge him, or in fact make any change until +Lord Carrick comes over, who may now be expected shortly. I believe +one thing--that he tries to do his utmost: and Brown puts up with +him." + +"Do you know," began Mr. Ollivera, in a low, meaning tone, when the +door Closed upon the luncheon-tray, and the three gentlemen stood +around the fire, Mrs. Bede having betaken herself to a far-off window, +"I have half a mind to go to Helstonleigh myself." + +"In search of Arthur Channing, William?" + +"No, uncle. In quest of that other search that has been upon my mind +so long. An idea has forced itself upon me lately that it--might have +been a woman." + +"For heaven's sake drop it," exclaimed Bede, with strange agitation. +"Don't you see Louisa?" + +She could not have heard--but Bede was always thus. He had his reasons +for not allowing it to be spoken of before her. One of them was this. +In the days gone by, just before their marriage, Clare Joliffe, +suddenly introducing the subject of Ollivera's death, when Bede was +present, said to her sister in a tone between jest and earnest, that +she (Louisa) had been the cause of it. Clare meant no more than that +her conduct had caused him to end his life--as it was supposed he did. +But Louisa, partly with passion, had gone into a state of agitation so +great as to alarm Bede. Never, from that time, would he suffer it to +be mentioned before her if he could guard against it. + +"But, William what do you mean about a woman?" asked Mr. Greatorex, +dropping his voice to a low key. + +"Uncle Greatorex, I cannot explain myself. I must go on in my own way, +until the time to speak shall come. That the clearance of the past is +rapidly advancing I feel sure of. A subtle instinct whispers it to me. +My dreams tell it me. Forget for the present what I said. I ought not +to have spoken." + +"You are visionary as usual," said Bede, sarcastically. + +"I know that you always think me so," was the clergyman's answer, and +he turned to depart. + +There was a general dispersion. Only Mr. Greatorex remained in the +room: and he had fallen into deep thought: when Roland Yorke, in his +chronic state of excitement, dashed in. Without any ceremony he flung +himself into a chair. + +"Mr. Greatorex, I am nearly dead-beat. What with cutting about +perpetually, and meeting depressing disappointments, and catching up +horrible new fears, it's enough to wear a fellow out, sir." + +Roland looked it: dead-beat. He had plenty of strength; but it would +not stand this much overtaxing. In the last six days it may be +questioned if he had sat down, with the exception of coming to a +temporary anchor on upright barrels or parapets of bridges; and then +he and his legs were so restless from excitement that a spectator +would have thought he was afflicted with St. Vitus's Dance. + +"Been taking a round this morning as usual, I suppose, Mr. Yorke," +said the lawyer. + +"Ever so many of them, sir. I began with the docks: I can't help +thinking that if anything was done with Arthur in conjunction with +a carpet-bag, he might turn up there, after drifting down. Then I +walked back to Scotland Yard, then looked into a few shops and +police-stations. Next I went to Waterloo Bridge, then down to Hamish +Channing's, then back to Mrs. Jones's; then to Vincent Yorke's; and +now I'm come here to tell you I'm going down to Helstonleigh, if you +don't mind sparing me." + +If you don't mind sparing me! For the use he was of to the house, it +did not matter whether he went or stayed. But that Roland had improved +in mind and manners, he had surely not asked it. Time was when he had +gone off on a longer journey than the one to Helstonleigh and never +said to his master, With your leave or by your leave; but just quitted +the office _impromptu_, leaving his compliments as a legacy. + +"And if you please I'd like to see Miss Channing before I start, sir; +to tell her what I'm doing, and to ask if she has any messages for her +people." + +Mr. Greatorex rang the bell. He fancied Miss Channing might be out, as +she had not appeared at luncheon. + +Not out, but in her bedroom. The pretty bedroom with its +window-curtains of chintz and its tasty furniture. When gaiety or +discord reigned below, when Mrs. Bede Greatorex's temper tried her as +with a heavy cross, Annabel could come up here and find it a sure +refuge. In one of the outbreaks of violence that seemed to be almost +like insanity, Mrs. Bede had that morning attacked Miss Channing--and +for no earthly reason, There are such tempers, there are such women in +the world. Some of us know it too well. + +Weeping, trembling, Annabel gained her chamber, and there sobbed out +her heart. It had needed no additional grief today, for Arthur's +strange disappearance filled it with a heavy, shrinking, terrible +weight. Jane ran up to say luncheon was ready--their dinner; Annabel +replied that she could not eat any. Taking the child in her arms, +kissing her with many gentle kisses, she whispered a charge not to +mention what had passed: if grandpapa or uncle Bede happened to remark +on her absence from table, Jane might say she had a headache, and it +would be perfectly true, for her head did ache sadly. It was ever +thus; even Mrs. Bede Greatorex she endeavoured to screen from +condemnation. Trained to goodness; to return good for evil whenever it +was practicable: to bear sweetly and patiently, Annabel Channing +strove to carry out certain holy precepts in every action of her daily +life. Too many of us keep them for the church and the closet. Annabel +had learnt the one only way. Praying ever, as she had been taught from +childhood, for the Holy Spirit spoken of by Jesus Christ to make its +home in her heart, and direct and restrain her always, she certainly +knew the way to Peace as well as it can be known here; and practised +it. "The fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make +peace." + +But it was hard to bear. Her nature was but human. There were times, +as on this day, when she thought she could not endure it; that she +must give up her situation. And that she was loth to do. Loth for +more reasons than one. Putting aside these trying outbreaks, the +place was desirable. She was regarded as an equal, treated as a +lady, well paid: and, what weighed greatly with Annabel in her extreme +conscientiousness, she was unwilling to abandon Jane Greatorex. For +she was doing the child _good_: good in the highest sense of the word. +Left to some governesses (conscientious ones too in a moral and +scholastic point of view) Jane would grow up a selfish, careless, +utterly worldly woman: Annabel was ever patiently working by gentle +degrees to lead her to wish to be something better; and she had begun +to see a little light breaking in on her way. For this great cause she +wished to remain: it seemed to be a duty to do so. + +Drawing her desk towards her, she had sat down to write to her sister +Constance, William Yorke's wife. Constance was her great resource. To +her, when the world's troubles were pressing heavily, Annabel poured +out her sorrow--never having hinted at any particular cause, only +saying the situation "had its trials"--and Constance never failed to +write by return of post an answer that cheered Annabel, and helped her +on her way. The very fact of writing seemed often to do her good as on +this day, and the tears had dried on her cheeks, and her face grew +cheerful with hopeful resolution, as she folded the letter. + +"I must balance the good I enjoy here against the trouble," she said; +"that will help me to bear it better. If Jane----" + +She was interrupted by the young lady in question; who came running +in, followed by one of the maids. + +"Miss Channing, Roland Yorke wants to see you in the dining-room." + +"Roland Yorke!" repeated Annabel, dubiously. With all his lack of +attention to conventionalities, Mr. Roland had never gone so far as to +send up for her. + +"It was Mr. Greatorex who desired me to tell you, miss," spoke up the +servant, possibly thinking Miss Jane's news needed confirmation. "He +rang to know whether you were at home, and then told me to come and +say that Mr. Yorke wished to see you." + +Annabel smoothed down the folds of her grey silk dress, and looked to +see that her pretty auburn hair was tidy. She saw something else; her +swollen eyes, and the vivid blushes on her cheeks. + +"I'll come with you," whispered Miss Jane. "I'll tell him about Aunt +Bede." + +And the conviction that she might tell, in spite of all injunction +against it, startled Annabel. Roland was the young lady's prime +favourite, regarded by her as a big playfellow. + +"You cannot come with me, Jane. Mary, be so kind as to take Miss Jane +to Dalla. Say that she must remain in the nursery until I am at +liberty." + +Roland was alone in the dining-room when she entered it. With a +delicacy that really was to be commended in one who had been to Port +Natal, he would not tell her of the theory he had caught up, or why he +was going to Helstonleigh; only that he was about to start for that +city. + +"But what are you going for, Roland?" was the very natural question +that ensued. + +"To see old Galloway," he replied, standing by her on the hearthrug +where Mr. Greatorex and Henry Ollivera had been standing but just +before. "I think Galloway must have given--at least--that is--that he +could find some clue to Arthur's movements, if he were well pumped; +and I am going to do it. Somebody ought to go; Hamish won't, and so it +falls upon me." + +Annabel made no answer. + +"I shan't like appearing in the old place," he candidly resumed. "I +said I never would until I could take a fortune with me; but one has +to do lots of things in this world that go against the grain; one soon +lives long enough to find that boasting turns out to be nothing but +emptiness." + +"Oh Roland!" she said, as the utter fallacy of the expectation struck +upon her, "I fear it will be a lost journey. Had Mr. Galloway been +able to furnish ever so small a clue, he would have been sure to send +it without being asked." + +"That's what Hamish says. But I mean to try. I'd be off today to the +North Pole as soon as to Helstonleigh, if I thought it would find him. +And to think, Annabel, that while he was being kept out of the way by +fate or ruffians, I was calling him proud!--and neglectful!--and +hard-hearted! I'll never forgive myself that. If, through lack of +exertion on my part, he should not be found, I might expect his ghost +to come back and stand at the foot of my bed every night." + +"But--Roland--you have not given up all hope?" she questioned, her +clear, honest hazel eyes cast up steadily and beseechingly at his. + +"Well, I don't know. Sometimes I think he's sure to turn up all right, +and then down I go again into the depths of mud. Last night I dreamt +he was alive and well, and I was helping him up some perpendicular +steps from a boat moored under Waterloo Bridge. When I awoke I thought +it was true; oh! I was so glad! Even after I remembered, it seemed a +good omen. Don't be down-hearted, Annabel. Once, at Port Natal, a +fellow I knew was lost for a year. His name was Crow. We never +supposed but what he was dead, but he came to life again with a good +crop of red whiskers, and said he'd only been travelling. I say! +what's the matter with your eyes?" + +The sudden question rather confused her. She answered evasively. + +"You've been crying, Annabel. Now, you tell me what the grievance was. +If Mrs. Bede Greatorex makes you unhappy--good gracious! and I can't +help you, or take you out of here! I do not know when I shall: I don't +get on at all. It's enough to make a man swear." + +"Hush Roland! I am very unhappy about Arthur." + +"Why, of course you are--how came I to forget it?" he rejoined, easily +satisfied as a child. "And here am I, wasting the precious time that +might be spent in looking after him! Have you anything to send to +Helstonleigh?" + +"Only my love. My dear love to them all. You will see mamma?" + +Roland suddenly took both her hands in his, and so held her before +him, stooping his head a little, and speaking gently. + +"Annabel, I shall have to see your mamma, and tell her----" + +She did not mean that at all; it had not so much as occurred to her. +Naturally the cheeks became very vivid now. Without further ado, +asking no leave, bold Roland kissed the shrinking face. + +"Good bye, Annabel. Wish me luck." + +Away he clattered, waiting for neither scolding nor answer, and was +flying along the street below, before Annabel had at all recovered her +equanimity. + +To resolve to go to Helstonleigh was one thing, to get to it was +another; and Roland Yorke, with his customary heedlessness, had not +considered ways and means. It was only when he dashed in at his +lodgings that morning (as, we have heard, was related by Mrs. Jones to +Mr. Ollivera), that the question struck him how he was to get there. +He had not a coin in the world. Roland's earnings (the result of +having put his shoulder to the wheel these three or four months past) +had been deposited for safety with Mrs. Jones, it may be remembered, +and they amounted to two sovereigns. These had been spent in the +search after Arthur. In the first commotion of his disappearance, +Roland had wildly dashed about in Hansoms; for his legs, with all +their length and impatience, would not carry him from pillar to post +fleet enough. He made small presents to policemen, hoping to sharpen +their discovering powers; he put two advertisements in the _Times_, +offering rewards for mysterious carpet-bags. But that a fortunate +oversight caused him to omit appending any address, it was quite +untellable the number of old bags that might have been brought him. +All this had speedily melted the gold pieces. He then got Mrs. Jones +to advance him (grumblingly) two more which went the same way, and +were not yet repaid. So there he was, without money to take him to +Helstonleigh, and nobody that he knew of likely to lend him any. + +"I can't walk," debated he, standing stock-still in his parlour, as his +penniless state occurred to him. "They'd used to call it a hundred and +eleven miles in the old coaching days. It would be nothing to me if I +had the time, but I can't waste that now. Hamish has set his face +against my going, or I'd ask him. I wonder--I wonder whether Dick +Yorke would let me have a couple of pounds?" + +To "wonder," meant to do, with Roland. Out he went again on the spur +of the moment, and ran all the way to Portland Place. Sir Vincent was +not at home. The man said he had been there that morning on his +arrival from Sunny Mead (the little Yorke homestead in Surrey), but +had gone out again directly. He might be expected in at any moment, or +all moments, during the day. + +Roland waited. In a fine state of restlessness, as we may be sure, for +the precious time was passing. He was afraid to go to the club lest he +might miss him. When one o'clock had struck, Roland thought he might +do his other errand first: which was to acquaint Greatorex and +Greatorex with his departure, and see Miss Channing. Therefore, he +started forth again, leaving a peremptory message for Sir Vincent +should he return, that he was to _wait in_ for him. + +And now, having seen Mr. Greatorex and Annabel, he was speeding back +again to Portland Place. All breathless, and in a commotion, of +course; driving along as if the pavement belonged to him, and nobody +else had any claim to it. Charging round a corner at full tilt, he +charged against an inoffensive foot-passenger, quietly approaching it: +who was no other than Mr. Butterby. + +Roland brought himself up. It was an opportunity not to be missed. +Seizing hold of the official button-hole, he poured the story of +Arthur Channing's disappearance into the official ear, imploring Mr. +Butterby's good services in the cause. + +"Don't you think any more of the uncivil names I've called you, +Butterby. You knew all the while I didn't mean anything. I've said I'd +pay you out when I got the chance, and so I _will_, but it shall be in +gold. If you will only put your good services into the thing, we shall +find him. Do, now! You won't bear malice, Butterby." + +So impetuous had been the flow of eloquence, that Mr. Butterby had +found no opportunity of getting a word in edgeways: he had simply +looked and listened. The loss of Arthur Channing had been as +inexplicable to him as to other people. + +"Arthur Channing ain't one of them sort o' blades likely to get into a +mess, through going to places where drinking and what not's carried +on," spoke he. + +"Of _course_ he is not," was Roland's indignant answer. "Arthur +Channing drink! he'd be as likely to turn tumbler at a dancing-booth! +Look here, Butterby, you did work him harm once, but I'll never +reproach you with it again as long as I live, and I've known all along +you had no ill-meaning in it: but now, you find him this time and that +will be tit for tat. Perhaps I may be rich some day, and I'll buy you +a silver snuffbox set with diamonds." + +"I don't take snuff," said Mr. Butterby. + +But it was impossible to resist Roland's pleading, in all its +simple-hearted energy. And, to give Mr. Butterby his due, he would +have been glad to do his best to find Arthur Channing. + +"I can't stay in London myself," said he; "I've been here a week now +on private business, and must go down to Helstonleigh tomorrow; but +I'll put it special into Detective Jelf's hands. He's as 'cute an +officer, young Mr. Yorke, as here and there one, and of more use in +London than me." + +"Bless you, Butterby!" cried hearty Roland; "tell Jelf I'll give him a +snuffbox, too. And now I'm off. I won't forget you, Butterby." + +Mr. Butterby thought the chances that Roland would ever have tin +snuff-boxes to give away, let alone silver, were rather poor but he +was not a bad-natured man, and he detained Roland yet an instant to +give him a friendly word of advice. + +"There's one or two folks, in the old place, that you owe a trifle to, +Mr. Yorke----" + +"There's half-a-dozen," interrupted candid Roland. + +"Well, sir, I'd not show myself in the town more than I could help. +They are vexed at being kept out of their money thinking some of the +family might have paid it; and they might let off a bit if you went +amid 'em: unless, indeed, you are taking down the money with you." + +"Taking the money with me!--why, Butterby, I've not got a sixpence in +the world," avowed Roland, opening his surprised eyes. "If Dick Yorke +won't lend me a pound or so, I don't know how on earth to get down, +unless they let me have a free pass on the top of the engine." + +There was no time for more. Away he went to Portland Place, and +thundered at the door, as if he had been a king. But his visit did +not serve him. + +Sir Vincent Yorke had entered just after Roland departed. Upon +receiving the peremptory message, the baronet marvelled what it could +mean, and whether all the Yorke family had been blown up, save +himself. Nothing else, he thought, could justify the scapegoat Roland +in desiring him, Sir Vincent, to _stay in_. To be kept waiting at home +when he very particularly wanted to be out--for Sir Vincent had come +to town to meet the lady he was shortly to marry, Miss Trehern--made +him frightfully cross. So that when Roland re-appeared he had an +angry-tempered man to deal with. + +And, in good truth, had Roland announced the calamity, so pleasantly +anticipated, it would have caused Sir Vincent less surprise; certainly +less vexation. When he found he had been decoyed into staying in for +nothing but to be asked to lend money to take Mr. Roland careering off +somewhere by rail--he was in too great a passion to understand +where--Sir Vincent exploded. Roland, quietly braving the storm, prayed +for "just a pound," as if he were praying for his life. Sir Vincent +finally replied that he'd not lend him a shilling if it would save him +from hanging. + +So Roland was thrown on his beam ends, and went back to Mrs. Jones's +with empty pockets, revolving ways and means in his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. +MR. GALLOWAY INVADED. + + +It was night in the old cathedral town. The ten o'clock bell had rung, +and Mr. Galloway, proctor and surrogate, at home in his residence in +the Boundaries, was thinking he might go to rest. For several days he +had been feeling very much out of sorts, and this evening the symptoms +had culminated in what seemed a bad cold, attended with feverishness +and pain in all his limbs. The old proctor was one of those people +whose mind insensibly sways the body; and the mysterious disappearance +of Arthur Channing was troubling him to sickness. He had caused a huge +fire to be made up in his bedroom, and was seated by it, groaning; his +slippered feet on a warm cushion, a railway rug enveloping his coat, +and back, and shoulders; a white cotton nightcap with a hanging +tassel ornamenting gracefully his head. One of his servants had just +brought up a basinful of hot gruel, holding at least a quart, and put +it on the stand by his easy chair. Mr. Galloway was groaning at the +gruel as much as with pain, for he hated gruel like poison. + +Thinking it might be less nauseous if disposed of at an unbroken +draught, were that possible--or at least soonest over--Mr. Galloway +caught up the basin and put it to his lips. With a cry and a splutter, +down went the basin again. The stuff was scalding hot. And whether Mr. +Galloway's tongue, or teeth, or temper suffered most, he would have +been puzzled to confess. + +It was at this untoward moment--Mr. Galloway's face turning purple, +and himself choking and coughing--that a noise, as of thunder, +suddenly awoke the echoes of the Boundaries. Shut up in his snug room +hearing sounds chiefly through the windows, the startled Mr. Galloway +wondered what it was, and edged his white nightcap off one ear to +listen. He had then the satisfaction of discovering that the noise was +at his own front door. Somebody had evidently got hold of the knocker +(an appendage recently made to the former naked panels), and was +rapping and rattling as if never intending to leave off. And now the +bell-handle was, pulled in accompaniment--as a chorus accompanies a +song--and the alarmed household were heard flying towards the door +from all quarters. + +"Is it the fire-engine?" groaned Mr. Galloway to himself. "I didn't +hear it come up." + +It appeared not to be the fire-engine. A moment or two, and Mr. +Galloway was conscious of a commotion on the stairs, some visitor +making his way up; his man-servant offering a feeble opposition. + +"What on earth does John mean? He must be a fool--letting people come +up here!" thought Mr. Galloway, apostrophising his many years' +servitor. "Hark! It can never be the Dean!" + +That any other living man, whether church dignitary or ordinary +mortal, would venture to invade him in his private sanctum, take him +by storm in his own chamber, was beyond belief. Mr. Galloway, all +fluttered and fevered, hitched his white nightcap a little higher, +turned his wondering face to the door, and sat listening. + +"If he is neither in bed nor undressed, as you say, I can see him up +here just as well as below; so don't bother, old John," were the words +that caught indistinctly the disturbed invalid's ear: and somehow the +voice seemed to strike some uncertain chord of memory. "I say, old +John, you don't get younger," it went on; "where's your hair gone? Is +this the room?--it used to be." + +Without further ado the door was flung open; and the visitor stepped +over the threshold. The two, invader and invaded, gazed at each other. +The one saw an old man, who appeared to be shrunk in spite of his +wraps, with a red face, surmounted by a cotton nightcap, a flaxen +curl or two peeping out above the amazed eyes, and a basin of steaming +gruel: the other saw a tall, fine, well-dressed young fellow, whose +face, like the voice, struck on the chords of memory. John spoke from +behind. + +"It's Mr. Roland Yorke, sir. He'd not be stayed: he would come up in +spite of me." + +"Goodness bless me!" exclaimed the proctor. + +Putting down his hat and a small brown paper parcel that he carried, +Roland advanced to Mr. Galloway, nearly turning over the stand and the +gruel, which John had to rush forward and steady--and held out his +hand. + +"I don't know whether you'll shake it, sir, after the way we parted. +_I_ am willing." + +"The way of parting was yours, Mr. Roland, not mine," was the answer. +But Mr. Galloway did shake the hand, and Roland sat down by the fire, +uninvited, making himself at home as usual. + +"What's amiss, sir?" he asked, as John went away. "Got the mumps? Is +that gruel? Horrid composition! I think it must have been invented for +our sins. You must be uncommon ill, sir, to swallow that." + +"And what in the world brings you down here at this hour, frightening +quiet people out of their senses?" demanded Mr. Galloway, paying no +heed to Roland's questions. "I'm sure _I_ thought it was the parish +engine." + +"The train brought me," replied matter-of-fact Roland. "I had meant to +get here by an earlier one, but things went cross and contrary." + +"That was no reason why you should knock my door down." + +"Oh, it was all my impatience: my mind's in a frightful worry," +penitently acknowledged Roland. "I hope you'll forgive it, sir. I've +come from London, Mr. Galloway, about this miserable business of +Arthur Channing. We want to know where you sent him to?" + +Mr. Galloway, his doubts as to fire-engines set at rest, had been +getting cool; but the name turned him hot again. He had grown to like +Arthur better than he would have cared to tell; the supposition +flashed into his mind that a discovery might have been made of some +untoward fate having overtaken him, and that Roland's errand was to +break the news. + +"Is Arthur dead?" he questioned, in a low tone. + +"_I_ think so," answered Roland. "But he has not turned up yet, dead +or alive. I'm sure it's not for the want of looking after. I've spent +my time pretty well, since he was missing, between Waterloo Bridge and +the East India Docks." + +"Then you've not come down to say he is found?" + +"No: only to ask you where you sent him that night, that he may be." + +When the explanation was complete, Roland discovered that he had had +his journey for nothing, and would have done well to take the opinion +of Hamish Channing. Every tittle of information that Mr. Galloway was +able to give, he had already written to Hamish: not a thought, not a +supposition, but he had imparted it in full. As to Roland's idea, that +business might have carried Arthur to dishonest neighbourhoods in +London, Mr. Galloway negatived it positively. + +"He had none to do for me in such places, and I'm sure he'd not of his +own." + +Roland sat pulling at his whiskers, feeling very gloomy. In his +sanguine temperament, he had been buoying himself with a hope that +grew higher and higher all the way down: so that when he arrived at +Mr. Galloway's he had nearly persuaded himself that--if Arthur, in +person, was not there, news of him would be. Hence the loud and +impatient door-summons. + +"I know he is at the bottom of the Thames! I did so hope you could +throw some light on it that you might have forgotten to tell, Mr. +Galloway." + +"Forgotten!" returned Mr. Galloway, slightly agitated. "If I +remembered my sins, young man, as well as I remember all connected +with him, I might be the better for it. His disappearance has made me +ill; that's what it has done; and I'm not sure but it will kill me. +When a steady, honourable, God-fearing young man like Arthur Channing, +whose heart I verily believe was as much in heaven as earth; when such +a man disappears in this mysterious manner at night in London, leaving +no information of his whereabouts, and who cannot be traced or found, +nothing but the worst is to be apprehended. I believe Arthur Churning +to have been murdered for the large sum of money he had about him." + +Mr. Galloway seized his handkerchief, and rubbed his hot face. The +nightcap was pushed a little further off in the process. It was the +precise view Roland had taken; and, to have it confirmed by Mr. +Galloway's, seemed to drive all hope out of him for good. + +"And I never had the opportunity of atoning to him for the past, you +see, Mr. Galloway! It will stick in my memory for life, like a pill in +the throat. I'd rather have been murdered myself ten times over." + +"I gave my consent to his going with reluctance," said Mr. Galloway, +seeming to repeat the fact for his own benefit rather than for +Roland's. "What did it signify whether Charles was met in London, or +not? if he could find his way to London from Marseilles alone, surely +he might find it to Helstonleigh! Our busy time, the November audit, +is approaching: but it was not that thought that swayed me against it, +but an inward instinct. Arthur said he had not had a holiday for two +years; he said there was business wanting the presence of one of us in +London: all true, and I yielded. And this is what has come of it!" + +Mr. Galloway gave his face another rub; the nightcap went higher and +seemed to hang on only by its tassel, admitting the curls to full +view. In spite of Roland's despairing state, he took advantage of the +occasion. + +"I say, Mr. Galloway, your hair is not as luxuriant as it was." + +"It's like me, then," returned Mr. Galloway, whose mind was too much +depressed to resent personal remarks. "What will become of us all +without Arthur (putting out of sight for a moment the awful grief for +himself) I cannot imagine. Look at his mother! He nearly supported the +house: Mrs. Channing's own income is but a trifle, and Tom can't give +much as yet. Look at me! What on earth I shall do without him at the +office, never can be surmised!" + +"My goodness!" cried modest Roland. "You'll be almost as much put to +it, sir, as you were when I went off to Port Natal." + +Mr. Galloway coughed. "Almost," assented he, rather satirically. "Why, +Roland Yorke," he burst forth with impetuosity, "if you had been with +me from then till now, and abandoned all your lazy tricks, and gone in +for hard work, taking not a day's holiday or an hour's play, you could +never have made yourself into half the capable and clever man that. +Arthur was." + +"Well, you see, Mr. Galloway, my talents don't lie so much in the +sticking to a desk as in knocking about," good-humouredly avowed +Roland. "But I do go in for hard work; I do indeed." + +"I hear you didn't make a fortune at Port Natal, young man!" + +Roland, open as ever, gave a short summary of what he did +instead--starved, and did work as a labourer, when he could get any to +do and drove pigs, and came back home with his coat out at elbows. + +"Nobody need reproach me; it was worse for me than for them--not but +what lots of people _do_. I tried my best; and I'm trying it still. It +did me one service, Mr. Galloway--took my pride and my laziness out of +me. But for the lessons of life I learnt at Port Natal, I should have +continued a miserable humbug to the end, shirking work on my own +score, and looking to other folks to keep me. I'm trying to do my best +honestly, and to make my way. The returns are not grand yet, but such +as they are I'm living on them, and they may get better. Rome was not +built in a day. I went out to Port Natal to set good old Arthur right +with the world; I couldn't bring myself to publish the confession, +that you know of, sir, while I stopped here. I thought to make my +fortune also, a few millions, or so. I didn't do it; it was a failure +altogether, but it made a better man of me." + +"Glad to hear it," said Mr. Galloway. + +He watched the earnest eager face, bent towards him he noted the +genuine, truthful, serious tone the words were spoken in and the +conclusion he drew was that Roland might not be making an +unjustifiable boast. It seemed incredible though, taking into +recollection his former experience of that gentleman. + +"And when I've got on, so as to make a couple of hundred a year or so, +I am going to get married, Mr. Galloway." + +"In--deed!" exclaimed Mr. Galloway, staring very mach. "Is the lady +fixed upon?" + +"Well, yes; and I don't mind telling you, if you'll keep the secret +and not repeat it up and down the town: I don't fancy she'd like it to +be talked of yet. It's Annabel." + +"Annabel Channing!" uttered Mr. Galloway, in dubious surprise. "Has +she said she'll have you?" + +"I am not so sure she has _said_ it. She means it." + +"Why she--she is one of the best and sweetest girls living; she might +marry almost anybody; she might nearly get a lord," burst forth Mr. +Galloway, with a touch of his former gossiping propensity. + +Roland's eyes sparkled. "So she might, sir. But she'll wait for me. +And she does not expect riches, either; but will put her shoulder to +the wheel with me and be content to work and help until riches come." + +Mr. Galloway gave a sniff of disbelief. He might be pardoned if he +treated this in his own mind as a simple delusion on Roland's part. He +liked Annabel nearly as well as he had liked Arthur; and he looked +upon Mr. Roland as a wandering knight-errant, not much likely to do +any good for himself or others. Roland rose. + +"I must be off," he said. "I've got my mother to see. Well, this is a +pill--to find you've no clue to give me. Hamish said it would be so." + +"I hear Hamish Channing is ill?" + +"He is not ill, that I know of. He looks it: a puff of wind you'd say +would blow him away." + +"Disappointed in his book?" + +"Well, I suppose so. It's an awful sin, though, for it to have been +written down--whoever did it." + +"I should call it a swindle," corrected Mr. Galloway. "A barefaced, +swindling injustice. The public ought to be put right, if there were +anyway of doing it." + +"Did you read the book, Mr. Galloway?" + +"Yes; and then I went forthwith out and bought it. Ana I read +Gerald's." + +"That _was_ a beauty, wasn't it?" cried sarcastic Roland. + +"Without paint," pursued Mr. Galloway, in the same strain. "It was +just worth throwing on the fire leaf by leaf, that's my opinion of +Gerald's book. But it got the reviews, Roland." + +"And be shot to it! We can't understand the riddle up in London, sir." + +"I'm sure we can't down here," emphatically repeated Mr. Galloway. +"Well, good night: I'm not sorry to have seen you. When are you going +back?" + +"Tomorrow. And I'd rather have gone a hundred miles the other way than +come near Helstonleigh. I shall take care to go and see nobody here, +except Mrs. Channing. If----" + +"You must not speak of Arthur to Mrs. Channing," interrupted the +proctor. + +"Not speak of him!" + +"She knows nothing of his loss: it has been kept from her. She thinks +he is in Paris with Charles. In her weak state of health she would +hardly stand the prolonged suspense." + +"It's a good thing you told me," said Roland, heartily. "I hope I +shan't let it out. Good night, sir. I must not forget this, though!" +he added, taking up the parcel. "It has got a clean shirt and collar +in it." + +"Where are you going to sleep?" + +Roland paused. Until that moment the thought had never struck him +where he was to sleep. + +"I dare say they can give me a shake-down at the mother's. The +hearthrug will do: I'm not particular. I'd used to go in for a feather +bed and two pillows. My goodness! what a selfish young lunatic I was!" + +"If they can't, perhaps we can give you a shake-down here," said Mr. +Galloway. "But don't you ring the house down if you come back." + +"Thank you, sir," said Roland, gratefully. "I wonder all you old +friends are so good to me." + +He clattered down in a commotion, and found himself in the Boundaries. +When he passed through them ten minutes before, he was bearing on too +fiercely to Mr. Galloway's to take notice of a single feature. Time +had been when Roland would not have cared for old memories. They came +crowding on him now the dear life associations, the events and +interests of his boyhood, like fresh green resting-places 'mid a +sandy desert. The ringing out of the cathedral clock, telling the +three-quarters past ten, helped the delusion. Opposite to him rose the +time-honoured edifice, worn by the defacing hand of centuries. +Renovation had been going on for a long while; the pinnacles were new; +old buildings around, that formerly partially obscured it, had been +removed, and it stood out to view as Roland had never before seen it. +It was a bright night; the moon shone as clearly as it had done on +that early March night which ushered in the commencing prologue of +this story. It brought out the fretwork of the dear old cathedral; it +lightened up the gables of the quaint houses of the Boundaries, all +sizes and shapes in architecture; it glittered on the level grass +enclosed by the broad gravel walks, which the stately dames of the +still more stately church dignitaries once cared to pace. But where +were the tall old elm-trees--through whose foliage the moonbeams ought +to have glittered, but did not? Where were the rooks that used to make +their home in them, wiling the poor college boys, at their Latin and +Greek hard by, with the friendly chorus of caws? Gone. Roland looked +up, eyes and mouth alike opening with amazement, and marvelled. A poor +apology for the trees was indeed left; but topped and lopped to +discredit. The branches, towering and spreading in their might, had +been removed, and the homeless rooks driven away, wanderers. + +"It's nothing but sacrilege," spoke bold Roland, when he had done +staring. "For certain it'll bring nobody good luck." + +He could not resist crossing the Boundaries to the little iron gate +admitting to the cloisters. It would not admit him tonight: the +cloister porter, successor to Mr. John Ketch of cantankerous memory, +had locked it hours ago, and had the key safely hung up by his +bed-side in his lodge. This was the gate through which poor Charley +Channing had gone, innocently confiding, to be frightened all but to +death, that memorable night in the annals of the college school. +Charley, who was now a flourishing young clerk in India (at the +present moment supposed to be enjoying Paris), and likely to rise to +fame and fortune, health permitting. Many a time and oft, had Roland +himself dashed through the gate, surplice on arm, in a white heat of +fear lest he should be marked "late." How the shouts of the boys used +to echo along the vaulted roof of the cloisters! How they seemed to +echo in the heart of Roland now! Times had changed. Things had +changed. He had changed. A new set of boys filled the school: some of +the clergy were fresh in the cathedral. The bishop, gone to his +account, had been replaced by a better: a once great and good +preacher, who was wont in times long gone by to fill the cathedral +with his hearers of jostling crowds, had followed him. In Mr. Roland's +own family, and in that of one with whom they had been very intimately +associated, there were changes. George Yorke was no more; Gerald had +risen to be a great man; he, Roland, had fallen, and was of no account +in the world. Mr. Channing had died; Hamish was dying---- + +How came that last thought to steal into the mind of Roland Yorke. _He +did not know_. It had never occurred to him before: why should it have +done so now? Ah, he might ask himself the question, but he could not +answer it. Buried in reflections of the past and present, one leading +on to another, it had followed in as if consecutively, arising Roland +knew not whence, and startling him to terror. He shook himself in a +sort of fright; his pulse grew quick, his face hot. + +"I do think I must have been in a dream," debated Roland, "or else +moonstruck. Sunny Hamish! as if the world could afford to lose him! +Nobody but a donkey whose brains had been knocked out of him at Port +Natal, would get such wicked fancies." + +He went back at full gallop, turned the corner, and looked out for the +windows of his mother's house. They were not difficult to be seen, for +in every one of them shone a blaze of light. The sweet white radiance +of the moon, with its beauteous softness, never to be matched by +earthly invention, was quite eclipsed in the garish red of the flaming +windows. Lady Augusta Yorke had an assembly--as was plain enough by +the signs. + +"Was ever the like bother known!" spoke Roland aloud, momentarily +halting in the quiet spot. "She's got all the world and his wife +there. And I didn't want a soul to know that I was at Helstonleigh!" + +He took his resolution at once, ran on, and made for a small side +door. A smart maid, in a flounced gown and no cap to make mention of, +stood at it, flirting with a footman from one of the waiting +carriages. Roland went in head foremost, saying nothing, passing +swiftly through tortuous passages and up the stairs. The girl +naturally took him for a robber, or some such evil character, and +stood agape with wonder. But she did not want for courage, and went +after him. He had made his way to what used to be his sister's +schoolroom in Miss Channing's time; the open door displayed a table +temptingly set out with refreshments, and nobody was in it. When the +maid got there, Roland, his hat on a chair and parcel on the floor, +was devouring the sandwiches. + +"Why, what on earth!" she began. "My patience! who are you sir? How +dare you?" + +"Who am I?" said Roland, his mouth nearly too full to answer. "You +just go and fetch Lady Augusta here. Say a gentleman wants to see her. +Tell her privately, mind." + +The girl, in sheer amazement, did as she was bid: whispering her own +comments to her mistress. + +"I'd be aware of him, my lady, if I were you, please. It might be a +maniac. I'm sure the way he's gobbling up the victuals don't look like +nothing else." + +Lady Augusta Yorke, slightly fluttered, took the precaution to draw +with her her youngest son, Harry, a stalwart King's Scholar of +seventeen. Advancing dubiously to the interview, she took a peep in, +and saw the intruder, a great tall fellow, whose back was towards her, +swallowing down big tablespoonfuls of custard. The sight aroused Lady +Augusta's anger: there'd be a famine; there'd be nothing left for her +hungry guests. In, she burst, something after Roland's own fashion, +words of reproach on her tongue, threats of the police. Harry gazed in +doubt; the maid brought up the rear. + +Roland turned, full of affection, dropped the spoon into the custard +dish, and flew to embrace her. + +"How are you, mother darling? It's only me." + +And the Lady Augusta Yorke, between surprise at the meeting, a little +joy, and vexation on the score of her diminishing supper, was somewhat +overwhelmed, and sunk into a chair in screaming hysterics. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. +IN THE CATHEDRAL. + + +The college bell was tolling for morning prayers: and the Helstonleigh +College boys were coming up in groups and disappearing within the +little cloister gate, with their white surplices on their arms, just +as Roland Yorke had seen them in his reminiscential visions the +previous night. It was the first of November: a saint's day; and a +great one, as everybody knows; consequently the school had a holiday, +and the king's scholars attended divine service. + +Roland was amidst them, having come out after breakfast to give as he +said a "look round." The morning was well on when he awoke up from the +conch prepared for him at Lady Augusta's--a soft bed with charming +pillows, and not a temporary shake-down on the hearthrug. They had +sat up late the previous night, after Lady Augusta's guests had left, +talking of old times and new ones. Roland freely confessed his +penniless state, his present mode of living, with all its shifts and +drawbacks, the pound a week that Mrs. Jones made do for all, the +brushing of his own clothes, the sometimes blacking of his own boots: +which sent his mother into a fit of reproachful sobs. In his sanguine +open-heartedness he enlarged upon the fortune that was sure to be his +some time ("a few hundreds a-year and a house of his own"), and made +her and his two sisters the most liberal promises on the strength of +it. Caroline Yorke turned from him: he had lost caste in her eyes. +Fanny, with her sweet voice and gentle smile, whispered him to work on +bravely, never to fear. The two girls were essentially different. +Constance Channing had done her utmost with them both: they had gone +to Hazledon with her when she became William Yorke's wife; but her +patient training had borne different fruit. + +Roland dashed first of all into Mr. Galloway's, to ask if he had news +of Arthur. No, none, Mr. Galloway answered with a groan, and it "would +surely be the death of him." As Roland left the proctor's house, he +saw the college boys flocking into the cloisters, and he went with +them. Renovation seemed to be going on everywhere; beauty had +succeeded dilapidations, and the old cathedral might well raise her +head proudly now. But Roland did wonder when the improvements and the +work would be finished; they had been going on as long as he could +remember. + +But the cloisters had not moved or changed their form, and Roland lost +himself in the days of the past. One of the prebendaries, a fresh one +since Roland's time, was turning into the chapter-house; Roland, +positively from old associations, snatched off his hat to him. In +imagination he was king's scholar again, existing in mortal dread, +when in those cloisters, of the Dean and Chapter. + +"I say--you," said he, seizing hold of a big boy, who had his surplice +flung across his shoulder in the most untidy and crumpled fashion +possible, "show me Joe Jenkins's grave." + +"Yes, sir," answered the boy, wondering what fine imperative gentleman +had got amidst them, and speaking civilly, lest it might be a +connection of someone of the prebendaries. "It's round on the other +side." + +Running along to the end of the north cloister, near to the famous +gravestone "Miserrimus," near to the spot where a ghost had once +appeared to Charles Channing he pointed to an obscure corner of the +green grave-yard, which the cloisters enclosed. Many and many a +time had Roland perched himself on those dilapidated old mullioned +window-frames in the days gone by. + +"It's there," said the boy. "Old Ketch, the cloister porter, lies on +this side him." + +"Oh, Ketch does, does he! I wonder whose doings that was! It's a shame +to have placed him, a cross-grained old wretch, side by side with poor +Jenkins." + +"Jenkins was cross-grained too, for the matter of that," cried the +boy. "He was always asking the fellows for a tip to buy baccy, and +grumbling if they did not give it." + +Roland stared indignantly. "Jenkins was! Why, what are you talking of? +Jenkins never smoked." + +"Oh; didn't he though! Why, he died smoking; he was smoking always. +Pretty well, that, for an old one of seventy-six." + +"I'm not talking of old Jenkins," cried Roland. "Who wants to know +about him?--what a senseless fellow you are! It's young Jenkins. Joe; +who was at Galloway's." + +"Oh, him! He was buried in front, not here. I can't go round to show +you, sir for time's up." + +The boy took to his heels, As schoolboys only can take to them, and +Roland heard him rattle up the steps of the college hall to join his +comrades. Propped against the frame-work, his memory lost itself in +many things; and the minutes passed unheeded by. The procession of the +king's scholars aroused him. They filed along the cloisters from the +college hall, two and two, in their surplices and trenchers, his +brother Harry, one of the seniors nearly the last of them. When they +had disappeared, Roland ran round to the front grave-yard. Between the +cathedral gates and those leading to the palace, stood a black-robed +verger, with his silver mace, awaiting the appearance of the Dean. +Roland accosted the man and asked him which was Joe Jenkins's grave. + +"That's it, sir," and the verger indicated a flat stone, which was +nearly buried in the grass. "You can't miss it his name's there." + +Roland went into the burial-ground, treading down the grass. Yes, +there it was. "Joseph Jenkins. Aged thirty-nine." He stood looking at +it for some minutes. + +"If ever I get rich, Joe, poor meek old fellow, you shall have a +better monument," spoke Roland aloud. "This common stone, Mrs. J.'s no +doubt, shall be replaced by one of white marble, and we'll have your +virtues inscribed on it." + +The quarter-past ten chimed out; the bell ceased, and the swell of the +organ was heard. Service had begun in the cathedral. Roland went +about, reading, or trying to read, other inscriptions; he surveyed the +well-remembered houses around; he shaded his hand from the sun, and +looked up to take leisure notice of the outer renovations of the +cathedral. Tired of this, it suddenly occurred to him that he would go +in to service; "just for old memories' sake." + +In, he went; never heeding the fact that the service had commenced, +and that it used not to be the custom for an intruder to enter the +choir afterwards. Straight on, went he, to the choir gates, not making +for either of the aisles, as a modest man would, pushed aside the +purple curtain, and let himself into a stall on the decani side; to +the intense indignation of the sexton, who marvelled that any living +man should possess sufficient impudence for it. When Roland looked up, +and had opened the large prayer-book lying before him, the chanter had +come to that portion of the service, "O Lord, open Thou our lips." It +was a melodious, full, pleasant voice. A thorough good chanter, +decided Roland, reared to be critical in such matters; and he took a +survey of him. The chanter was on the cantons side, nearly opposite to +Roland; a good-looking, open-countenanced young clergyman, with brown +hair, whose face seemed to strike another familiar chord on Roland's +memory. + +"If I don't believe it's Tom!" thought Roland. + +Tom it was. But it slightly discomposed the equanimity of the Reverend +Thomas Channing to find the stalwart, bold disturber, at whom +everybody had stared, and the Dean himself glanced at, telegraphing +him a couple of nods, in what seemed the exuberance of gratified +delight. The young chanter's face turned red; he certainly did not +telegraph back again. + +Thus tacitly repulsed, Roland had leisure to look about him, and did +so to his heart's content, while the _Venite_ and the Psalms for the +day were being sung. Nearly side by side with himself; at the chanting +desk, but not being used for chanting today, he discovered his +kinsman, William Yorke. And the Reverend William kept his haughty +shoulder turned away; and had felt fit to faint when Roland had come +bursting through the closed curtains. He, and Tom Channing, and the +head-master of the school, were the three minor canons present. + +Oh, how like the old days it was! The Dean in his stall; the sub-dean +on the other side, and the new prebendary, whom Roland did not know. +There stood the choristers at their desks; here, on the flags, +extended the two facing lines of king's scholars, all in their white +surplices. There was a fresh head-master in Mr. Pye's place, and +Roland did not know him. The last time Roland had attended service in +the cathedral--and he well remembered it--Arthur Channing took the +organ. He had ceased for several years to take it now, except on some +chance occasion for pleasure. Where was Arthur now? Could it be that +he "was not?" What with the chilliness of the thought and the +chilliness of the edifice, Roland gave a shiver. + +But they are beginning the First Lesson--part of a chapter in Wisdom, +William Yorke reading it. With the first sentences Arthur was brought +more forcibly into Roland's mind. + + +"But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there +shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to +die: and their departure is taken for misery, and their going from us +to be utter destruction: but they are in peace." + + +And so on to the end of the verses. Sitting back in his stall, subdued +and quiet now, all his curiosity suppressed, Roland could not but +think how applicable the Lesson was to Arthur. Whether living or dead, +he must be at peace, for God had surely proved him and found him +worthy for Himself. Roland Yorke had not learnt yet to be what Arthur +was; but a feeling, it might be called a hope, stole over him then for +the first time in his life that the change would come. "Annabel will +help me," he thought. + +When service was over, Roland greeted all he cared to greet of those +who remembered him. Passing back up the aisle to join Tom Channing in +the vestry (where the first thing he did was to try on the young +parson's surplice and hood), he met his kinsman coming from it. Roland +turned _his_ shoulder now, and his cold sweeping bow, when the minor +canon stopped to speak, would have done honour to a monarch. William +Yorke walked on, biting his lips between amusement and vexation. As +Roland and Thomas Channing were passing through the Boundaries, a +rather short, red-faced, pleasant looking young man met them, and +stayed to shake hands with the minor canon. It was Stephen Bywater. +Roland knew him at once: his saucy face had not altered a whit. +Bywater had come into no end of property in the West Indies (as Roland +heard explained to him by Tom afterwards), and was now in Europe for a +short sojourn. + +"How's Ger? asked Bywater, when they had spoken of Arthur and general +news. + +"A great man," answered Roland. "Looks over my head if he meets me in +the street. I might have knocked him down before now, Bywater, but for +having left my manners at Port Natal." + +"Oh, that's it, is it?" cried Bywater. "Ger is Ger still, I see. Does +he remember the ink-bottle?" + +"What ink-bottle?" + +"And the tanning of birch Pye gave him?" + +Roland did not understand. The termination of that little episode of +schoolboy life had taken place after he had quitted Helstonleigh, and +it was never imparted to him. Stephen Bywater recited it with full +flavour now. + +"Ger's not so white himself, then," remarked Roland. "He's always +throwing that banknote of Galloway's in _my_ teeth." + +"Is he? I once told him he was a cur," added Bywater, quietly. +"Goodbye, old fellow; we shall meet again, I hope." + +Mrs. Channing was delighted to see Roland. But when he spoke to her of +Annabel she burst out laughing, just as her son Hamish had done; which +slightly disconcerted the would-be bridegroom. Considering that in +three or four months, as he now openly confessed, he had saved up two +pounds towards commencing housekeeping (and those were spent), Mrs. +Channing thought the prospect for him and Annabel about as hopeless a +one as she had ever heard of. Roland came to the private conclusion +that he must be making the two hundred a year before speaking again. +He remembered the warning Mr. Galloway had given him in regard to +Arthur, and got away in safety. + +Home again then to Lady Augusta's, where he stayed till past midday, +and then started for the station to take the train for London. Fearing +there might be a procession to escort him off, the old family barouche +ordered out, or something of that, for Roland remembered his mother of +old, he stole a march on them and got out alone, his brown paper +parcel in his hand and three or four smaller ones, containing toys and +cakes that Fanny was sending to Gerald's children. His intention had +been to dash through the streets at speed, remembering Mr. Butterby's +friendly caution. But the once well-known spots had charms for Roland, +and he halted to gaze at nearly every step. The Guildhall, the +market-house, the churches: all the old familiar places that had grown +to his memory when far away from them. Before Mrs. Jenkins's house he +came to a full stop: not the one in which Mr. Ollivera had met his +death, but the smaller dwelling beside it. From the opposite side of +the way stood Roland, while he gazed. The shop sold a different kind +of wares now; but Roland had no difficulty in recognising it. In the +parlour behind he had revelled in the luxurious tea and toasted +muffins; in that top room, whose windows faced him, poor humble +Jenkins had died. Away on at last up the street, he and his parcels, +looking to the right and the left. Once upon a time the Lady Augusta +Yorke, seduced by certain golden visions imparted to her by Roland, +had gone to bed and dreamt of driving about a charming city whose +streets were paved with malachite marble, all brilliant to glance +upon; many a time and oft had poor Roland dreamt of the charms of +these Helstonleigh streets when he was fighting a fight with +starvation at Port Natal. Looking upon them now, he rubbed his eyes in +doubt and wonder. Could _these_ be the fine wide streets of the former +days? They seemed to have contracted to a narrow width, to be mean and +shabby. The houses appeared poor, the very Guildhall itself small. Ah +me! The brightness had worn off the gold. + +Roland walked on with the slow step of disappointment, scanning the +faces he met. He knew none. Eight years had passed since his absence, +and the place and the people were changed to him. Involuntarily the +words of that ever beautiful song, which most of us know by heart, +came surging up his memory, as he gazed wistfully from side to side. + + + "Strange to me now are the forms I meet + When I visit the dear old town." + + +Strange enough. Was it for this he had come back? Often and often +during his wanderings in the far-away African land, had other lines of +the same sweet song beaten their refrain in his brain when yearning +for Helstonleigh. There was a certain amount of sentiment in Roland +Yorke, for all his straightforward practicability. + + + "Often I think of the beautiful town + That is seated by the sea; + Often in thought go up and down + The pleasant streets of that dear old town, + And my youth comes back to me. + And a verse of a Lapland song + Is haunting my memory still: + 'A boy's will is the wind's will, + And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" + + "I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, + And catch in sudden gleams + The sheen of the far-surrounding seas + And islands that were the Hesperides + Of all my boyish dreams. + And the burden of that old song, + It murmurs and whispers still: + 'A boy's will is the wind's will, + And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" + + +There were no seas around Helstonleigh, but the resemblance was near +enough for Roland, as it has been for others. Other verses of the song +seemed to be strangely realized to him now, as he walked along. + + + "There are things of which I may not speak; + There are dreams that cannot die; + There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak. + And bring a pallor into the cheek, + And a mist before the eye. + And the words of that fatal song + Come over me like a chill: + 'A boy's will is the wind's will, + And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" + + "I can see the breezy dome of groves, + The shadows of Deering's woods; + And the friendships old and the early loves + Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves + In quiet neighbourhoods. + And the verse of that sweet old song, + It flutters and murmurs still: + 'A boy's will is the wind's will, + And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" + + "And Deering's woods are fresh and fair, + And with joy that is almost pain + My heart goes back to wander there; + And among the dreams of the days that were + I find my lost youth again. + And the strange and beautiful song, + The groves are repeating it still: + 'A boy's will is the wind's will, + And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" + + +Believe it or not as you will, of practical, matter-of-fact Roland, +these oft-quoted lines (but never too often) told their refrain in his +brain as he paced the streets of Helstonleigh, just as they had done +in exile. + +He went round by Hazledon; and William Yorke came forward in the hall +to meet him, with outstretched hand. + +"I knew you would not leave without coming in." + +"It's to see Constance, not you," answered Roland. + +Constance was ready for him; the same sweet woman Roland in his +earlier days had thought the perfection of all that was fair and +excellent. He thought her so still. She had her children brought down, +and took the baby in her arms. Roland made them brilliant offerings in +prospective, in the shape of dolls and rocking-horses: and whispered +to their mother his romance about Annabel. She wished him luck, +laughing all the while. + +"When William was in London this summer he thought Hamish was looking +a little thin," said Constance. "Is he well?" + +"Oh, he's well enough," answered Roland. But his face flushed a dusky +red as he spoke, for the question recalled the strange idea that had +flashed into his mind, unbidden, the past night; and Mr. Roland +thought himself guilty for it, and resented it accordingly. "You never +saw such a lovely little fairy as Nelly is." + +But he had no time to stay. Roland went out on the run; and just fell +into the arms of a certain Mr. Simms: one of the few individuals he +had particularly hoped to avoid. + +Mr. Simms knew him. That it was a Yorke there could be no doubt; and a +minute's pause sufficed to show him that it was no other than the +truant Roland. Civilly, but firmly, Mr. Simms arrested progress. + +"Is it you, Mr. Roland Yorke?" + +"Yes, it's me," said Roland. "I'm only at Helstonleigh for a few hours +and was in hopes of getting off again without meeting any of yon," he +candidly added. "You're fit to swear at me, I suppose, Simms, for +never having sent you the money?" + +"I certainly expected to be paid long before this, Mr. Yorke." + +"So did I," said Roland. "I'd have sent it you had I been able. I +would, Simms; honour bright. How much is it? Five pounds?" + +"And seven shillings added on to it." + +"Ay, I've got the list somewhere. It's over forty pounds that I owe in +the place altogether, getting on for fifty: and every soul of you +shall be paid with interest as soon as I can scrape the money +together. I've had nothing but ill-luck since I left here, Simms, and +it has not turned yet." + +"It was said you went to foreign parts to make your fortune, sir. My +lady herself told me you were safe to come home with one." + +"And I thought I was," gloomily answered Roland. "Instead of that, +Simms, I got home without a shirt to my back. I've gone in for work +this many a year now, but somehow fortune's not with me. I work daily, +every bit as hard and long as you do, Simms; perhaps harder; and I can +hardly keep myself. I've not been able to do a stroke since this +dreadful business about Arthur Channing--which brought me down here." + +"Is he found, sir? We shouldn't like to lose such a one as him." + +"He's neither found nor likely to be," said Roland, shaking his head. +"Old Galloway declares it will be his death: I'm not sure but it'll be +mine. And now I must be off, Simms, and I leave you my honest word +that I'll send you the money as soon as ever it is in my power. I'd +like to pay you all with interest. You shall be the first of them to +get it." + +"I suppose you couldn't pay me a trifle off it now, Mr. Yorke? A pound +or so." + +"Bless your heart!" cried Roland, in wide astonishment. "A pound or +so! I don't possess it. I pawned my black dress-suit for thirty +shillings to come down upon, and travelled third class. Goodbye, old +Simms; I shall lose the train." + +He went off like a shot. Mr. Simms looking after the well-dressed +gentleman, did not know what to make of the plea of poverty. + +Roland went whirling back to London again, third class, and arrived at +the Paddington terminus in a fever. That the worst had happened to +Arthur, whatever that worst might be, he no longer entertained a +shadow of doubt. His thirty shillings (we might never have known he +had been so rich but for the candid avowal to Mr. Simms) were not +quite exhausted, and Roland put his parcels into a hansom and drove +down to Mrs. Gerald Yorke's. + +To find that lady in tears was nothing unusual; the rule, in fact, +rather than the exception; she was seated on the floor by the +firelight in the evening's approaching dusk, and the three little +girls with her. The grief was not much more than usual. Gerald had +been at home, and in a fit of bitter anger had absolutely forbidden +her to take the children to drink tea with little Nelly Channing at +four o'clock, as invited. Four o'clock had struck; five too; and the +disappointed mother and children had cried through the hour. + +"It is too bad of Gerald," cried sympathising Roland, putting his +parcels on the table. + +"Yes, it _is_; not to let us go _there_," sobbed Mrs. Yorke. "All +Gerald's money is gone, too, and he went off without answering me when +I said I must have some. I don't possess as much as a fourpenny-piece +in the world; and we've not got an atom of tea or butter in the house +and can have no tea at home, and we've only one scuttle of coals left, +for I've just rung for some and the girl says so, and--oh, I wish I +was dead!" + +Roland felt in his pockets, and found three shillings and twopence. It +was all _he_ possessed. This he put on the table, wishing it was fifty +times as much. His heart was good to help all the world. + +"I'm ashamed of its being such a trifle," said he, pulling at his +whiskers in mortification. "If I were rich I should be glad to help +everybody. Perhaps it'll buy a quarter of butter and a bit of tea and +half a hundred of coals." + +"And for him to deny our going there!" repeated Winny, getting up to +take the money, and then rocking herself violently. "You know the +state we were in all the summer: Gerald next door to penniless and +going about in fear of the bum-bailies," she continued, adhering in +moments of agitation to her provincial expressions. "We wanted +everything; rent, and clothes, and food; and if it had not been for a +friend who continually helped us we might have just starved." + +"It was your mother," said Roland. + +"But it was not my mother," answered Mrs. Yorke, ceasing her rocking +to lean forward, and her cheeks and her eyes looked alike bright in +the flashing firelight. "It was Mr. Chaining." + +"What?" + +She could not be reticent, and explained all. How Hamish, or his wife +for him, had helped them, even to the paying of boot-bills for Gerald. +Roland sat amazed. Things that had somewhat puzzled even his careless +nature were becoming clear. + +"And Gerald not know of this?" + +"As if I should dare to tell him! He thinks it all comes from my +mother. Oh, Roland, you don't know how good and kind Hamish Channing +is! he is more like one of Heaven's angels. I think, I do really +think, I must have died, or come to a bad end, but for him. He is the +least selfish man I ever knew in the world; the most thoughtful and +generous." + +"_I_ know what Hamish is," assented Roland, with energy. "And to +think that he has got to bear all this awful sorrow about his best +brother--Arthur!" + +"Oh, Arthur is found. He is all right," said Mrs. Yorke, quietly. + +"What!" shouted Roland, starting from his chair. + +"Arthur has been at Marseilles all the while. Hamish had a letter from +him this morning." + +A prolonged stare; a rubbing of the amazed face that had turned to a +white heat; and Roland caught up his hat, and went out with a bang. +Half a moment, and he was back again, sweeping his parcels from the +table to the children on the carpet. + +"It's cakes and toys from Fanny," said he. "Go into them, you +chickens. That other's a shirt, Mrs. Yorke: I can't stay for it now." + +On the stairs, as he was leaping down, Roland unfortunately +encountered the servant maid carrying up a scuttle of coals. It was +not a moment to consider maids and scuttles. Down went the coals, down +went the maid. Roland took a flying leap over the _débris_, and was +half way on his road to Hamish Channing's before the bewildered +landlady, arriving on the scene, could understand what the matter was. + +The explanation of what had been a most unpleasant mystery was so very +simple and natural, that the past fright and apprehension seemed +almost like a take-in. It shall be given at once; though the reader +will readily understand that at present Hamish knew nothing of the +details, only the bare fact that Arthur was alive and well. He would +have to wait for them until Arthur's return. + +Amidst the letters handed to Arthur Channing by the waiter of the +hotel that night in Norfolk Street, was one from Marseilles, stating +that Charles, just before landing, had had a relapse, and was lying at +Marseilles dangerously ill--his life despaired of. Perhaps in the +flurry of the moment, Arthur did not and could not act so reasonably +as he might have done. All his thoughts ran on the question--How could +he in the shortest space of time get to Marseilles? By dint of +starting on the instant--on the instant, mind--and taking a fleet cab, +he might get to London Bridge in time to catch the Dover mail-train. +Taking up his hat and letters, he ran out of the coffee-room calling +aloud for the waiter. Nobody responded: nobody, as it would appear, +was at that moment in the way to hear him. Afraid of even an instant's +detention, he did not wait, but ran out of the hotel, up Norfolk +Street, hailed a passing hansom, and reached London Bridge Station +before the train started. From Dover to Calais the boat had an +exceedingly calm passage, and Arthur was enabled to write some short +notes in the cabin, getting ink and paper from the steward: one to the +hotel that he had, as may be said, surreptitiously quitted, one to +Hamish, one to Roland, one to Mr. Galloway, one to Mr. Galloway's +London agents. Arthur, always considerate, ever willing to spare +others anxiety and pain, did not say _why_ he was hastening to +Marseilles, but merely stated that he had determined on proceeding +thither, instead of awaiting Charles in London. These letters he gave +to a French commissionaire on landing in Calais, with money to buy the +necessary stamps, and a gratuity to himself; ordering him to post them +as soon as might be. Whether the man quietly pocketed the money and +suppressed the letters, or whether he had in his turn entrusted them +to someone else to post, who lost, or forgot them, would never be +ascertained. Arthur, all unconscious of the commotion he was causing +at home, arrived quietly at Marseilles, and there found Charles very +ill, not quite out of danger For some days he was wholly occupied with +him, and did not write at all: as he had said nothing about the +illness, he knew there could be no anxiety. Now that he did write, +Charles was getting better rapidly. It may just be observed, that the +letter left in the rack of the hotel (that came on with the rest of +the steamer's letters from Marseilles) had served to complicate +matters; but for that letter it would have been surmised that Arthur +had received unfavourable news of Charles, and had gone on to him. The +accident was indeed a singular one, which left _that_ letter in the +rack: and even the thought that there should have been a second from +Marseilles never occurred to them. All these, and other details, +Hamish Channing would have to wait for. He could afford to do +so--holding that new letter of relief in his hand, which stated that +Charles was eager to continue his journey homewards, so that they +would probably be in London soon after its receipt. + +"Oh, Hamish, it is good!" cried Roland, who had sat listening with all +his heart and eyes. "It's like a great bright star come down from +Heaven. It's like a gala-day." + +"I dare say there is a letter waiting for you at Mrs. J.'s, friend." + +"Of course there is," decided Roland. "As if Arthur would forget me! +Old Galloway won't die yet." + +But, even in that short absence of a day and a night, Roland seemed to +see that Hamish Channing's face had grown thinner: the fine skin more +transparent, the genial blue eyes brighter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. +A STARTLING AVOWAL. + + +Cuff Court, Fleet Street; and a frosty day in December. The year has +gone on some six or seven weeks since the last chapter, and people are +beginning to talk of the rapidly-advancing Christmas. + +Over the fire, in the little room in Cuff Court, where you once saw +him by gas-light, sits Mr. Butterby. The room is bright enough with +sunlight now; the sunlight of the cold, clear day; a great deal +brighter than Mr. Butterby himself, who is dull as ditch-water, and in +a sulky temper. + +"I've been played with; that's what I've been," said Butterby in +soliloquy. "Bede Greatorex bothers me to be still, to be passive; and +when I keep still and passive, and stop down at Helstonleigh, taking +no steps, saying nothing to living mortal, letting the thing die away, +if it will die, _he_ makes a mull of it up in town. Why couldn't he +have kept his father and Parson Ollivera quiet? Never a lawyer going, +but must be sharp enough for that. Not he. He does nothing of the +sort, but lets one or both of 'em work, and ferret, and worry, and +discover that Godfrey Pitman has turned up, and find out that _I_ knew +of it, and go to headquarters and report me for negligence I get a +curt telegram to come to town, and here's the deuce to pay." + +Mr. Butterby turned round, snatched up a few papers that lay on the +table, glanced over the writing, and resumed his soliloquy when he had +put them down again. + +"Jelf has it in hand here, and I've not yet got to see him. Not of +much use my seeing him before I've heard what Bede Greatorex has to +say. One thing they've not been sharp enough to discover yet--_where +Godfrey Pitman is to be found_. Foster in Birmingham holds his +tongue, Johnson shows Jelf the door when he goes to ask about +Winter: and there they are, Jelf and the Parson, or Jelf and Mr. +Greatorex--whichever of them two it is that's stirring--mooning up and +down England after Pitman, little thinking he's close at home, right +under their very noses. I and Bede Greatorex hold _that_ secret tight; +but I don't think I shall feel inclined to hold it long. 'Where _is_ +Pitman?' says the sergeant to me yesterday, at headquarters. 'Ah!' +says I, 'that's just the problem we are some of us trying to work +out.'" + +Mr. Butterby stopped, cracked the coal fiercely, which sent up a blaze +of sparks, and waited. Resuming after a while. + +"And it _is_ a problem; one _I_ can't make come square just yet. +There's Brown--as good call him by one alias as another--keeping as +quiet as a mouse, knowing that he is being looked after for the murder +of Counsellor Ollivera. What's his motive in keeping dark? The debts +he left behind him in Birmingham are paid; Johnson and Teague +acknowledge his innocence in that past transaction of young Master +Samuel's; they are, so to say, his friends, and the man knows all +this. Why, then, don't he come forward and reap the benefit of the +acquittal, and put himself clear before the world, and say--Neither am +I guilty of the other thing--the counsellor's death? Of course, when +Jeff and Jeff's masters know he is hiding himself somewhere, and does +_not_ come forward, they assume that he dare not, that he was the man +who did it. I'd not swear but he was, either. Looking at it in a broad +point of view, one can't help seeing that he must have some urgent +motive for his silence--and what that motive is, one may give a shrewd +guess at: that he is screening himself or somebody else. There's only +one other in the world that he would screen, I expect, and that's +Alletha Rye." + +A long pause. A pause of silence. Mr. Butterby's face, with all his +professional craft, had as puzzled a look on it as any ordinary +mortal's might wear. + +"I suspected Alletha Rye more than anybody at the time. Don't suspect +her now. Don't _think_ it was her; wouldn't swear it wasn't, though. +And, in spite of your injunction to be still, Mr. Bede Greatorex, I'll +go into the thing a bit for my own satisfaction." + +Looking over the papers on the table again, he locked them up, and sat +down to write a letter or two. Somebody then came in to see him on +business--which business does not concern us. And so time passed on, +and when the sunlight had faded into dusk, Mr. Butterby put on a top +pilot-coat of rough blue cloth, and went out. The shows were lighted, +displaying their attractions for the advancing Christmas, and Mr. +Butterby had leisure to glance at them with critical approval as he +passed. + +These past few weeks had not brought forth much to tell of in regard +to general matters. Arthur and Charles Channing had passed through +London on their way to Helstonleigh; Roland Yorke had resumed his +daily and evening work, and had moreover given his confidence to Sir +Vincent Yorke (nothing daunted by that gentleman's previous repulse) +on the subject of Annabel Channing, and in his sanguine temperament +was looking ever for the place Vincent was to get him; and James +Channing drew nearer and nearer to another world. But this world was +slow to perceive it--Hamish, the bright! Three or four times a week +Roland snatched a minute to dart down to the second-hand furniture +shops in Tottenham Court Road, there to inquire prices and lay in a +stock of practical information as to the number and nature of +articles, useful and ornamental, indispensable for a gentleman and +lady going into housekeeping. + +But Mr. Butterby was on his way to Mrs. Jones's residence, and we must +follow him. Halting opposite the house to take a survey of it, he saw +that there was no light in Mr. Ollivera's sitting-room; there was no +light anywhere, that he could see. By which fact he gathered that the +clergyman was not at home: and that was satisfactory, as he did not +much care to come in contact with him just at the present uncertain +state of affairs. + +Crossing the street, he knocked gently at the door. Miss Rye answered +it, nobody but herself being in the house. A street gas-lamp shone +full on her face, and the start she gave was quite visible to Mr. +Butterby. He walked straight in to Mrs. Jones's parlour, saying he had +come to see her; her, Alletha Rye. Her work lay on the red table-cover +by the lamp; Mr. Butterby sat down in the shade and threw back his +coat; she stood by the fire and nervously stirred it, her hands +trembling, her face blanching. + +"When that there unhappy event took place at Helstonleigh, the death +of Counsellor Ollivera, now getting on for five years back, there was +a good deal of doubt encompassing it round about, Miss Rye," he +suddenly began. + +"Doubt?" she rejoined, faintly, sitting down to the table and catching +up her work. + +"Yes, doubt. I mean as to how the death was caused. Some said it was a +murder, and some said it was his own doing--suicide." + +"Everybody said it was a suicide!" she interrupted, with trembling +eagerness, her shaking fingers plying the needle as if she were +working for very life. "The coroner and jury decided it to be one." + +"Not quite everybody," dissented Mr. Butterby, listening with +composure until she had finished. "_You_ didn't. I was in the +churchyard when they put him into the ground, and heard and saw you +over the grave." + +"But I had cause to--to--alter my opinion, later," she said, her face +turning hectic with emotion. "Heaven alone knows how bitterly I have +repented of that night's work! If cutting my tongue out afterwards, +instead of before, could have undone my mistake----" + +"Now look here; don't you get flurried," interposed Mr. Butterby. "I +didn't come here to put you out, but just to have a rational talk on a +point or two. I thought at the time it was a suicide, as you may +remember: but I'm free to confess that the way in which the ball has +been kept rolling since has served to alter my opinion. Counsellor +Ollivera was murdered!" + +She made no reply. Taking up her scissors, she began cutting away at +the work at random, and the hectic red faded away to a sickly +whiteness. + +"There was a stranger lodging at Mrs. Jones's at the time, you +remember, one Godfrey Pitman. Helstonleigh said, you know, Miss Rye, +that if anybody did it, it was him. That Godfrey Pitman is an +uncommonly sharp card to have kept himself out of the way so long! +Don't you think so?" + +"I don't think anything about it," she answered. "What is it to me?" + +"Well, Miss Rye, I've the pleasure of telling you that Godfrey +Pitman's found!" + +The little presence of mind left in Alletha Rye seemed to quit her at +the words. Perhaps she was no longer so capable of maintaining it as +she once had been: the very best of our powers wear out when the +soul's burthen is continued long and long. + +"Found!" she gasped, her hands falling on her work, her wild eyes +turned to Mr. Butterby. + +"Leastways so near found, that it mayn't be a age afore he's took," +added the detective, with professional craft. "Our friends in the blue +coats have got the clue to him. I'd not lay you the worth of that +silver thimble of yours, Miss Rye, that he's not standing in a certain +dock next March assizes." + +"In what dock? What for?" came from her trembling lips. + +"Helstonleigh dock For what le did to Mr. Ollivera. Come, come, I did +not want to frighten you like this, my good young woman. And why +should it? It is not certain Pitman will be brought to trial, though +he were guilty. Years have gone by since, and the Greatorexes and +Parson Ollivera may hush it up. They are humane men; Mr. Bede +especially." + +"_You_ don't believe Godfrey Pitman was guilty?" she exclaimed, and +her eyes began to take a hard look, her voice a defiant tone. + +"Oh, don't I!" returned Butterby. "What's more to the purpose, Miss +Rye, the London officers and their principals, who have got it in +hand, believe it." + +"And what if I tell you that Godfrey Pitman never was guilty; that he +never raised his hand against Mr. Ollivera?" she broke forth in +passionate accents, rising to confront him. "What if I tell you that +it was _I?_" + +Standing there before him, her eyes ablaze with light, her cheeks +crimson, her voice ringing with power, it was nearly impossible to +disbelieve her. For once, the experienced, cool man was taken aback. + +"_You_, Miss Rye!" + +"Yes, I. I, Alletha Rye. What, I say, if I tell you it was I did that +terrible deed? _Not_ Godfrey Pitman. Now then! you must make the most +of it, and do your best and worst." + +The avowal, together with the various ideas that came crowding as its +accompaniment, struck Mr. Butterby dumb. He sat there gazing at her, +his speech utterly failing him. + +"Is this true?" he whispered, when he had found his tongue. + +"Should I avow such a thing if it were not? Oh, Mr. Butterby! hush the +matter up if it be in your power," she implored, clasping her hands in +an attitude of beseeching supplication, and her breath came in great +gasps, so that the words were jerked out, rather than spoken. "In pity +to me, hush it; it has lain at rest all these years. Let Godfrey +Pitman be! For my sake, let him be! I pray you in Heaven's name!" + +She sat down in her chair, tottering back to it, and burst into a +flood of hysterical tears. Mr. Butterby waited in silence till they +were over, and then buttoned his coat to go out. Putting out her timid +hand, she caught his arm and held it with a nervous grasp. + +"You will promise me Mr. Butterby?" + +"I can't promise anything on the spur of the moment," said he in a +grave, but not unkind tone. "You must let me turn things over in my +mind. For one thing, neither the hushing of the matter up, nor the +pursuing of it, may lie with me. I told you others had got it in hand, +Miss Rye, and I told you truth. Now there's no need for you to come to +the door; I can let myself out." + +And Mr. Butterby let himself out accordingly, making no noise over the +exit. + +"I'm _blest_ if I can see daylight," he exclaimed with energy, as he +went down the street at a brisk pace. "Did she do it herself?--or is +she trying to screen Master George Winter? It's one of the two; and +I'm inclined to think it is the last. Anyway, she's a brave and a bold +woman. Whether she did it, or whether she didn't, it's no light matter +to accuse herself of mur----" + +Mr. Butterby came to a full stop: both in words and steps. It was but +for a second of time; and he laughed a little silent laugh at his own +obtuseness as he passed on. + +"I forgot her avowal at the grave. If she had done it herself, she'd +never have gone in for that public display, lest it should turn +attention on her. Yes, yes; she is screening Winter. Perhaps the man, +hiding in that top floor, with nothing to do but torment his wits, got +jealous of the counsellor below, fancying she favoured him, and +so----" + +The break in Mr. Butterby's sentence this time was occasioned by his +shooting into an entry. Approaching towards him came Mrs. Jones, +attended by her servant with a huge market-basket: and as he had +neither time nor wish for an encounter with that lady at the present +moment, he let her go by. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. +A TELEGRAM TO HELSTONLEIGH. + + +That same evening, just as suddenly as Detective Butterby had shot +into the entry, did he seem to shoot into the private room of Mr. Bede +Greatorex. The clerks had just left the office for the evening; Bede, +putting things straight on his desk, was thinking of going upstairs to +dinner. To be thus silently invaded was not pleasing: but Bede could +only resign himself to his fate. + +In a spirit of reproach Mr. Butterby entered on the business of the +interview, stating certain facts. Bede took alarm. Better, as he +thought, that the earth should be arrested in its orbit, than that the +part Godfrey Pitman played in connection with his cousin's death at +Helstonleigh should be brought to light. + +"It is the very charge, above all others, that I gave you, Mr. +Butterby--the keeping secret what you had learnt about the identity of +Godfrey Pitman," broke forth Bede. + +"And it is because I obeyed you and did keep it, that headquarters +have put it into others' hands and are hauling me over the coals," +spoke Mr. Butterby in an injured tone. + +"Have you told them that it was by my desire you remained passive?" + +"I have told them nothing," was the answer. "I let 'em think that I +was looking after Godfrey Pitman still myself, everywhere that I could +look, high and low." + +"Then they don't know yet that he and my clerk Brown are the same?" +said Bede, very eagerly. + +"Not a bit on't. There's not a living soul of the lot has been sharp +enough to turn that page yet, Mr. Bede Greatorex." + +"And it must be our business to keep it closed," whispered Bede. "I +will give you any reward if you can manage to do it." + +"Look here, sir," spoke Butterby. "I am willing to oblige you as far +as I can in reason; I've showed you that I am; but to fill you up with +hopes that that secret will be a secret long, would be nothing but +wilful deceit: and deceit's a thing that don't answer in the long run. +When I want to throw people off a scent, or worm things out of 'em for +the law's purposes, I send their notions off on all sorts of air +journeys, and think it no wrong: but to let you suppose I can keep +from the world what I can't keep, and take your thanks and rewards for +doing it, is just the opposite case. As sure as us two be a talking +here, this matter won't stand at its present page; there'll be more +leaves turned in it afore many days is gone over." + +Leaning forward, his face and eyes wearing their gravest look, his +elbow on the table that was between them, his finger and thumb pointed +to give force to his argument, there was that altogether in the +speaker's aspect, in his words, that carried a shiver of conviction to +the mind of Bede Greatorex. His heart grew faint, his face was white +with a sickly moisture. + +"You may think to stop it and I may think to stop it, Mr. Bede +Greatorex: but, take my word, it won't be stopped. There's no longer a +chance of it." + +"If you--could get--Brown out of the way?" spoke Bede, scarcely +knowing what it was he said, and speaking in a whisper. Mr. Butterby +received the suggestion with severity. + +"It's not to me, sir, that you should venture to say such a thing. +I've been willing to help your views when it didn't lie against my +position and duty to do it; but I don't think you've seen anything in +me to suppose I would go beyond that. As good step into Scotland Yard +and ask _them_ to help a criminal to escape, as ask me. We'll let that +drop, sir; and I'll go on to a question I should like to put. What do +you want Godfrey Pitman out of the way for?" + +Bede did not answer. His hand was pressed upon his brow, his eyes wore +their saddest and most dreamy look. + +"If Pitman had any share in the business at Helstonleigh, you ought to +be the one to give him into custody, sir." + +"For the love of Heaven, don't pursue Pitman!" spoke Bede earnestly. +"I have told you before, Mr. Butterby, that it was not he. So far as I +believe, he never lifted his hand against John Ollivera; he did not +hurt a hair of his head. Accuse any one in the world that you please, +but don't accuse him." + +"What if I accuse a woman?" spoke Mr. Butterby, when he had gazed at +Bede to his satisfaction. + +Their eyes met. Bede's face, or the detective fancied it, was growing +whiter. + +"Who?--What woman?" asked Bede, scarcely above his breath. + +"Alletha Rye." + +With a sadden movement, looking like one of relief, Bede Greatorex +dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair. It was as if some kind +of rest had come to him. + +"Why should you bring in Alletha Rye's name? Do you suspect her?" + +"I'm not clear that I do; I'm not clear that I don't. Anyhow, I think +she stands a chance of getting accused of it, Mr. Bede Greatorex." + +"Better accuse her than Pitman," said Bede, who seemed to be again +speaking out of his uncomfortable dream. + +Mr. Butterby, inwardly wondering at various matters and not just yet +able to make them meet in his official mind, rose to conclude the +interview. A loud bell was ringing upstairs; most probably the +announcement of dinner. + +"Just a parting word, sir. What I chiefly stepped in to say, was this. +So long as the case rested in my hands, and Mr. Godfrey Pitman was +supposed to have finally disappeared from the world, I was willing to +oblige you, and let it, and him, and the world be. But from the moment +that the affair shall be stirred publicly, in short, that action is +forced upon me by others, I shall take it up again. Counsellor +Ollivera's case belongs of right to me, and must be mine to the end." + +With a civil goodnight, Mr. Butterby departed, leaving Bede Greatorex +to his thoughts and reveries. More unhappy ones have rarely been +entertained in this world. Men cannot strive against fate forever, and +the battle had well nigh warn him out. It almost seemed that he could +struggle no longer, that he had no power of resistance left within +him. Mind and body were alike weary; the spirit fainted, the heart was +sick. Life had long been a burden to Bede Greatorex, but never did its +weight lie heavier than tonight in its refined and exquisite pain. + +He had to bear it alone, you see. To lock the miserable secret, +whatever might be its precise nature, and whoever might have been +guilty, within his own bosom. Could he but have spoken of it to +another, its anguish had been less keen; for, when once a great +trouble can be imparted--be it of grief, or apprehension, or remorse; +be it connected with ourselves, or (worse) one very near and dear to +us--it is lightened of half its sting. + +But that relief was denied to Bede Greatorex. + +It had been the dinner-bell. Bede did not answer to it; but that was +not altogether unusual. + +They sat around the brilliantly-lighted, well-appointed banquet. Where +Mrs. Bede Greatorex procured her fresh hothouse flowers from daily, +and at what cost, she alone knew. They were always beautiful, charming +to the eye, odoriferously pleasant to the senses. At the head of the +table tonight was she, wearing amber silk, her shoulders very bare, +her back partially shaded by the horse's tail that drooped from her +remarkable chignon. It was not a dinner-party; but Mrs. Bede was going +out later, and had dressed beforehand. + +The place at her left-hand was vacant--Bede's--who never took the foot +of the table when his father was present. Mr. Greatorex supposed his +son was detained in the office, and sent a servant to see. Judge Kene +sat on the right of Mrs. Bede; he had called in, and stayed to dinner +without ceremony. Clare Joliffe and Miss Channing sat on either side +Mr. Greatorex. Frank was dining out. Clare was returning to France for +Christmas, after her many months' stay in the country. Her chignon was +more fashionable than a quartern loaf, and certainly larger, but +lacking that great achievement, the tail. Annabel's quiet head +presented a contrast to those two of the mode. + +Bede came up. Shaking hands with Sir Thomas Kene, he passed round to +his chair; his manner was restless, his thin cheeks were hectic. The +judge had not seen him for some little time. Gazing at him across the +table, he wondered what malady he could be suffering from, and how +much more like a shadow he would be able to become--and live. Mr. +Greatorex, anxiously awake to every minute glance or motion bearing on +his son's health, spoke. + +"Are you thinking Bede looks worse, Sir Thomas?" + +"He does not look better," was the reply. "You should see a doctor and +take some tonics, Bede." + +"I'm all right, Judge, thank you," was Bede's answer, as he turned a +whole lot of croûtons into his purée de pois--and would afterwards +send it away nearly untested. + +Dinner was just over when a servant whispered to Mr. Greatorex that he +was wanted. Going down at once to his room he found Henry William +Ollivera. + +"Why did you not come up, William? Kene is there." + +"I am in no fit mood for company, uncle," was the clergyman's reply. +"The trouble has come at last." + +In all the phases of agitation displayed by Henry Ollivera, and when +speaking of the affair he generally displayed more or less, Mr. +Greatorex never saw him so much moved as now. Leaning forward on his +chair, his eyes bright, his cheeks burning as with the red of an +autumn leaf, his hands feverish, his voice sunk to a whisper, he +entered on the tale he had to tell. + +"Do you remember my saying to you one day in the dining-room above, +that I thought it was a woman? Do you remember it, uncle?" + +"Quite well." + +"In the weeks that have gone by since, the suspicion has only gained +ground in my mind. Without cause: I am bound to say it, without +further cause. Nay almost in the teeth of what might have served to +diminish suspicion. For, if Godfrey Pitman be really somewhere in +existence, and hiding himself, the natural supposition would be, as +Jelf thinks, that _he_ was the one." + +Mr. Greatorex nodded assent. "And yet you suspect the woman! Can you +not say who she is, Henry? + +"Yes, I can say now. I have come here to say it--Alletha Rye!" + +Mr. Greatorex evinced no surprise. He had fancied it might be upon her +that his nephew's doubts had been running. And he deemed it a crotchet +indeed. + +"I think you must be entirely mistaken," he said with emphasis. "What +little I know of the young woman, tends to give me a very high opinion +of her. She appears to be almost the last person in the world capable +of such a crime as that, or of any crime." + +"She might have done it in a moment's passion; she might have been +playing with the pistol and fired it accidentally, and then was afraid +to avow it; but she _did_ it, uncle." + +"Go on." + +"I have been distracted with doubt. Distracted," emphatically repeated +Mr. Ollivera. "For of course I knew that my suspicions of her, strong +though they have been growing, did not prove her guilty. But tonight I +have heard her avow it with her own lips." + +"Avow what?" + +"That she murdered John!" + +"What!--has she confessed to you?" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex. + +"No. I heard it accidentally. Perhaps I ought to say surreptitiously. +And, hearing it in that manner, the question arises in my mind whether +or not I should make use of the knowledge so gained. I cannot bear +anything like dishonourable or underhand dealing; no, not even in this +cause, uncle." + +Mr. Greatorex made no reply. He was taken up with noting the strangely +eager gaze fixed upon him. Something in it, he knew not what, recalled +to his memory a dead face, lying alone on the border of a distant +churchyard. + +"It is some few weeks ago now that Mrs. Jones gave me a latchkey," +resumed Mr. Ollivera. "In fact, I asked her for it. Coming in so +often, and sometimes detained out late at night with the sick, I felt +that it would be a convenience to me, and save trouble to the maid. +This evening upon letting myself in with it about tea-time, I found +the passage in darkness; the girl, I supposed, had delayed to light +the lamp. My movements are not noisy at any time, as you know, and I +went groping on in silence, feeling my way: not from any wish to be +stealthy--such a thought never entered my head--but because Mr. Roland +Yorke is given to leaving all kinds of articles about and I was afraid +of stumbling over something. I was making for the table at the end +of the passage, on which matches are generally kept, sometimes a +chamber-candle. Feeling for these, I heard a voice in Mrs. Jones's +parlour that I have not heard many times in my life, but nevertheless +I knew it instantly--Butterby's, the detective." + +"Butterby's!" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex. "I did not know he was in +London." + +"Uncle! It was Alletha Rye's voice that answered him. Her voice and no +other's, disguised with agitation though it was. I heard her say that +it was herself who killed my brother; that Godfrey Pitman had never +raised a hand against him." + +"You--really heard her say this, William?" breathed Mr. Greatorex. + +"It is true as that I am a living man. It seemed to me that the +officer must have been accusing Godfrey Pitman of the crime. I heard +the man's surprised answer, 'You, Miss Rye!' 'Yes, I,' she said, 'I, +Alletha Rye, _not_ Godfrey Pitman.' I heard her go on to tell Butterby +that he might do his best and his worst." + +Mr. Greatorex sat like one bereft of motion. "This confounds me, +William," he presently said. + +"It confounded me," replied Mr. Ollivera. "Nearly took my senses from +me, for I'm sure I had no rational reason left. The first thought that +came to me was, that they had better not see me there, or discover +they had been overheard until I had decided what my course should be. +So I stepped silently up to my room, and the detective went away; and, +close upon that, Mrs. Jones and the maid came in together. Mrs. Jones +called her sister to account for not having lighted the hall-lamp, +little thinking how the darkness had served me." + +"But for you telling me this yourself, William, I had not believed +it." + +"It is true as Heaven's gospel," spoke the clergyman in his painful +earnestness. "I sat a short while in my room, unable to decide what I +ought to do, and then I came down here to tell you of it, uncle. It is +very awful." + +"Awful that it should have been Alletha Rye, you mean?" + +"Yes. I have been praying, seeking, working for this discovery ever +since John died; and, now that it has come in this most sudden manner, +it brings nothing but perplexity with it. Oh, poor helpless mortals +that we are!" added the clergyman, clasping his hands. "We set our +hearts upon some longed-for end, spend our days toiling for it, our +nights supplicating for it; and when God answers us according to our +short-sighted wish, the result is but as the apples of Sodom, filling +our mouths with ashes. Anybody but Alletha Rye; almost anybody; and I +had not hesitated a moment. But I have lived under the same roof with +her, in pleasant, friendly intercourse; I have preached to her on +Sundays; I have given her Christ's Holy Sacrament with my own hands: +in a serious illness that she had, I used to go and pray by her +bed-side. Oh, Uncle Greatorex, I cannot see where my duty lies; I am +torn with conflicting doubt!" + +To the last words Mr. Ollivera had a listener that he had not +bargained for--Judge Kene. About to take his departure, the Judge had +come in without ceremony to say Goodnight to Mr. Greatorex. + +"Why, what is amiss?" he cried, noting the signs of agitation as well +as the words. + +And they told him; told him all; there was no reason why it should be +kept from him; and Mr. Ollivera begged for his counsel and advice. The +Judge gave it, and most emphatically; deciding _as_ a Judge more than +as a humane man--and Thomas Kene was that. + +"You cannot hesitate, Ollivera. This poor unhappy woman, Alletha Rye, +must be brought to answer for her crime. Think of _him_, your brother, +and my once dear friend, lying unavenged in his shameful grave! +Humanity is a great and a good virtue, but John's memory must outweigh +it." + +"Yes, yes; I am thinking of him always," murmured the clergyman, his +face lighting. + +The initiative was taken by Mr. Greatorex. On the departure of the +Judge and the clergyman, who went out together, Mr. Greatorex dropped +a line to Scotland Yard. Butterby happened to be there, and answered +it in person. Shortly and concisely Mr. Greatorex gave his orders. + +"And I have no resource but to act upon them," coolly observed the +imperturbable Butterby. "But I don't think the party was Alletha Rye." + +"You don't!" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex. + +"No, sir, I don't. Leastways, to my mind, there's grave reasons +against it. The whole affair, from beginning to end, seems encompassed +with nothing but doubts; and that's the blessed truth." + +"I would like to ask you if Alletha Rye has or has not made a +confession to you this evening, Mr. Butterby--to the effect that she +was the one who killed Mr. Ollivera?" + +"If nobody was in the house but her--as she said--she's been talking," +thought the detective. "Confound these women for simpletons! They'd +prate their necks away." + +But Mr. Greatorex ins looking at him, waiting for the answer. + +"I was with Alletha Rye this evening; I went there for my own +purposes, to see what I could get out of her; little suspecting she'd +say what she did. But I don't believe her any the more for having said +it. The fact is Mr. Greatorex, that in this case there's wheels within +wheels, a'most more than any I've ever had to do with. I can't yet +disclose what they are even to you; but I'm trying to work them round +and make one spoke fit into another." + +"Do you _know_ that Alletha Rye was not guilty of it?" + +"No, sir, I do not." + +"Very good. Lose no time. Get a warrant to apprehend Alletha Rye, and +execute it. If you telegraph to Helstonleigh at once, the warrant may +be up, and she in custody before midday tomorrow." + +No more dallying with the law or with fate now. That was over. Mr. +Butterby went straight to the telegraph office, and sent a message +flying to Helstonleigh. + +And Bede Greatorex went out to take part in an evening's gaiety with +his wife, and came home to his rest, and rose the next morning to go +about his occupation, unconscious of what the day was destined to +bring forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. +LIFE'S SANDS RUNNING ON. + +A cold brisk air, with suspicion of a frost. It was a day or two +previous to the one told of in the last two chapters, when Mr. +Butterby was paying visits. Being convenient to record that renowned +officer's doings first, we yielded him the precedence, and in +consequence have to go back a little. + +The brightness of the afternoon was passing. In his writing-room, +leaning back in a large easy-chair before the fire, sat Hamish +Channing. Some papers lay on the table, work of various kinds; but, +looking at Hamish, it almost seemed as though he had done with work +for ever. A face less beautiful than Hamish Channing's would have +appeared painfully thin: his, spite of its wasted aspect, had yet a +wonderful charm. The remark was once made that Hamish Channing's was a +face that would be beautiful always; beautiful to the end; beautiful +in dying. See it now. The perfect contour of the features is shown the +plainer in their attenuation; the skin seems transparent, the cheeks +are delicately flushed, the eyes are very blue and bright. If the +countenance had looked etherealized earlier in the history, and any +cavilled at the word, they would scarcely have cavilled at it now. But +in the strangely spiritual expression, speaking, one knew not how, of +Heaven there was an ever-present sadness, as if trouble had been hard +at work with him; as if all that was of the earth, earthy, had been +_crucified_ away. + +Nobody seemed certain of it yet--that he was dying. He bore up +bravely; working still a little at home; but not going to the office; +that was beyond him. The doctors had not said there was no hope: his +wife, though she might inwardly feel how it was, would not speak it. +He sat at the head of his table yet; he was careful of his appearance +as of yore. His smile was genial still; his loving words were +cheerful, sometimes gay; his sweet kindliness to all around was more +marked. Oh, it was not in the face only that the look of Heaven +appeared: if ever a spark of the Divine spirit of love and light had +been vouchsafed to man's soul, it surely had been to that of Hamish +Channing. + +He wore a coat of black velvet, a vest of the same, across which his +gold chain passed, with its drooping seal. The ring, formerly Mr. +Channing's, no longer made believe to fit the little finger; it was +worn on the second. His hair, carefully brushed as ever, looked like +threads of dark gold in the sunlight. Certainly it could not be said +that Hamish gave in to his illness. Whatever his complaint might be, +the medical men did not call it by any name; there was a little cough, +a strange want of tone and strength a quick, continual, almost +perceptible wasting. Whether Hamish had cherished visions of recovery +for himself could not be known; most earnestly he had hoped for it. If +only for the sake of his wife and child, he desired to live: and +existence itself, even in the midst of a great and crushing +disappointment, is hard to resign. But the truth, long dawning on his +mind, had shown itself to him fully at last, as it does in similar +cases to most of us; whether Hamish's weakness had taken a stride and +brought conviction of its formidable nature, or whether it might be +that he was temporarily feeling worse, a sadness, as of death itself, +lay upon him this afternoon. + +It had been a short life--as men count lives; he had not yet numbered +two and thirty years. But for the awful disappointment that was drying +its fibres away, he might say that it had been a supremely happy one. +Perhaps no man, with the sweet and sunny temperament of Hamish +Channing, possessing the same Christian principles, could be otherwise +than happy. He did not remember ever to have done ill wilfully to +mortal man, in thought, word, or deed. It had been done to him: but he +forgave it. Nevertheless, a sense of injustice, a bitter pang of +disappointment, of hopeless failure as to this world, lay on his +heart, when he recalled what the past few months brought him. Leaning +there on his chair, his sad eyes tracing figures in the fire, he was +recalling things one by one. His never-ceasing, ever-hopeful work, and +the bright dreams of future fame that had made its sunshine. He +remembered, as though it were today, the evening that first review met +his eye--when he had been entertaining his brother-in-law, the +Reverend William Yorke, and others--and the shock it gave him. Think +of it when he would even now, it brought him a sensation of sick +faintness. Older men have become paralyzed from a similar shock. The +first review had been so closely followed by others, equally unjust, +equally cruel, that they all seemed as one blow. After that there +appeared to be a sort of pause in his life, when time and events stood +still, when he moved as one in a dream of misery, when all things +around him were as dead, and he along with them. The brain (as it +seemed) never stopped beating, or the bosom's pain working; or the +sense of humiliation to quit him. And then, as the days went on, +bodily weakness supervened; and--there he was, dying. Dying! going +surely to his God and Saviour; he felt that; but leaving his dear +ones, wife and child, to the frowns of a hard world; alone, without +suitable provision. And the book--the good, scholarly, attractive +book, upon which he had bestowed the best of his bright genius, that +he had written as to Heaven--was lying unread. Wasted! + +"Papa, shall I put on her blue frock or her green? She is going out +for a walk." + +This interruption came from Miss Nelly, who sat on the hearthrug, +dressing her doll. There was no reply, and Nelly looked up: she wore a +blue frock herself; its sleeves and the white pinafore tied together +with blue ribbon. Her pretty little feet in their shoes and socks were +stretched out, and her curls fell in a golden shower. + +"Shall baby wear her blue frock or her green, papa? Papa, then! Which +is prettiest?" + +Hamish, aroused, looked down on the child with a smile. "The blue, I +think; and then baby-doll will be like Nelly." + +But Mrs. Channing, sewing at the window, turned her head. Something in +her husband's face or in his weary tone struck her. + +"Do you feel worse, Hamish?" + +"No, love. Not particularly." + +Sadder yet, the voice; a kind of hopeless, weary sadness, depressing +to hear. Ellen quitted her seat, and came to him. "What is it?" she +whispered. + +"Not much, dear. The future has cleared itself; that's all." + +"The future?" + +"I cannot struggle any longer, Ellen. I have preached faith and +patience to others, but they seem to have deserted me. I--I almost +think the very strife itself is helping on the end." + +Sharp though the pang was, that pierced her breast, she would not show +it. Miss Nelly chattered below, asking questions of her doll, and +making believe to answer. + +"The----_end_, Hamish!" + +He took her hand and looked straight in her face as she stood by him. +"Have you not seen it, Ellen?" + +With a heart and bosom that alike quivered,--with a standing still of +all her pulses,--with a catching-up of breath, as a sob, Mrs. Churning +was conscious of a stab of pain. Oh yes--yes--she had seen it; and the +persuading herself that she had not, had been but a sickly, miserable +pretence at cheating. + +"But for leaving you and the little one, Ellen, there would be no +strife," he whispered, letting his forehead rest for a moment on her +arm. "It is a long while now that my dreams--I had almost said my +visions--have been of that world to which we are all journeying, which +every one of us must enter sooner or later. There will be no pain, or +trouble, or weariness _there_. Only the other night, as I lay between +sleep and wake, I seemed to have passed its portals into a soft, +bright, soothing light, a haven of joyous peace and rest." + +"And if dolly's good, and does not spoil her new blue frock, she shall +go out for a walk," was heard from the hearthrug. Hamish put his +elbow on the arm of the chair, and covered his face with his slender +fingers. + +"But when I think of my wife and child--and I am always thinking of +them, Ellen,--when I realize the bitter truth that I must leave them, +why then at times it seems as if my heart must break with its intense +pain. Ellen, my darling, I would not, even yet, have spoken, but that +I know you must have been waiting for it." + +"I could have borne any trouble better than this," she answered, +pressing her hands together. + +"It will be softened to you, I am sure, Ellen. I am ever praying that +it may." + +"But----" + +Visitors in the drawing-room: Mrs. Bede Greatorex and Miss Joliffe. A +servant came to announce them. She had said that her mistress was at +home, and Ellen had to go up. Hamish, with his remaining strength, +lifted Miss Nelly on his knee, doll and all. + +"Hush, papa, please! Baby is fatigued with making her toilette. She +wants to go to sleep." + +"What would Nelly say if papa told her he also wanted to go to sleep?" + +Miss Nelly lay back in papa's arms while she considered the question, +the doll hushed in hers. Ah me, it is ever thus! We clasp and love our +children: they love others, who are more to them than we are. + +"Why? Are you tired, papa?" + +"A little weary, dear." + +"Then go to sleep. Doll shall be quiet." + +"The sleep's not coming just yet, Nelly. And--when it does come--papa +may not awake from it." + +"Not ever, ever, ever?" asked Nelly, opening her blue eyes in wonder, +but not taking in at all the true sense of the question. + +"Not ever--here." + +"The princess went into a sleep in my tale-book, and lay on the bed +with roses in her hair, and never awoke, never, never, till the good +old fairy came and touched her," said Miss Nelly. + +There ensued a pause. Hamish Channing's lip quivered a little; but no +one, save himself, could have guessed how every fibre of his heart was +aching. + +"Nelly," he resumed, his voice and manner alike gravely earnest, his +eyes reading hers, "I want to give you a charge. Should papa have to +go on a long journey, you would be all that mamma has left. Take you +care, my child, to be ever dutiful to her; to be obedient to her +slightest wish, and to love her with a double love." + +"A long, long, long journey?" demanded Miss Nelly. + +"Very long." + +"And when would you come back again to this house?" + +"Not ever." + +"Where would it be to, papa?" + +"Heaven," he softly whispered. + +Nelly rose up in his arms, the blue eyes more wondering than before. + +"But that would be to die!" + +"And if it were?" + +Down fell the doll unheeded. The child's fears were aroused. She threw +her little arms about his neck. + +"Oh papa, papa, don't die! Don't die!" + +"But if I must, Ellen?" + +Only once in her whole life could she remember that he had called her +by her true name, and that was when her grandpa died. She began to +tremble. + +"Who would take care of me, papa?" + +"God." + +She hid her face upon his velvet waistcoat, strangely still. + +"He would guide, and guard, and love you ever, Ellen. Loving Him you +would be His dear child always, and He would bring you in time to me. +Look up, my dear one." + +"_Must_ you go the journey?" + +"I fear so." + +"Oh, papa!--and don't you care--don't you care for mamma and me, that +you must leave us?" + +"Care!" + +He could say no more; the word seemed to put the finishing stroke to +his breaking heart. Sobs broke from his lips; tears, such as man +rarely sheds, streamed down on the little nestling head. A cry of +anguish, patient and imploring, that the parting might be soothed to +them all, went up aloft to his Father in Heaven. + +After dusk came on, when the visitors were got rid of,--for Clare +Joliffe had stayed an unconscionable time, talking over old interests +at Helstonleigh--Mrs. Channing found her husband asleep in his chair. +Closing the door softly on him, she sat down by the dining-room fire, +and the long pent-up tears burst forth. Hamish Channing's wife was a +brave woman but there are griefs that go well-nigh, when they fall, to +shatter the bravest of us. Miss Nelly, captured ever so long ago by +nurse, was at tea in the nursery. + +Roland Yorke surprised Mrs. Channing in her sorrow. Roland never came +into the house with a clatter now (at least when he thought of its +master's sick state), but with as softly decorous a step as his boots +could be controlled to. Down he sat in silence, on the opposite side +of the hearth, and saw the reflection of Mrs. Channing's tears in the +firelight. + +"Is he worse?" asked Roland, when he had stared a little. + +"No," she answered, scarcely making a pretence to conceal her grief. +"I fear there will not be very much 'worse' in it at all, Roland: a +little more weakness perhaps, and that will be all. I am afraid the +end is very near. I fancy he thinks so." + +Roland grew hot and cold; a dart took him under his waistcoat. + +"Let's understand, Mrs. Channing. Don't play with a fellow. Do you +mean that Hamish is--going--to die?" + +"Yes, I am sure there is no more hope." + +"My goodness!"--and Roland rubbed his hot and woe-stricken face. "Why +he was better yesterday. He was laughing and talking like anything." + +"Not really better. It is as I say, Roland." + +"If ever I saw such a miserable world as this!" exclaimed Roland: +who, though indulging at times some private despondency upon the case, +had perhaps not realized its utter hopelessness until now, when the +words put it unmistakably before him. "I never thought--at least, +much--but what he'd get well again: the fine, good, handsome man. I'd +like to know why he couldn't, and what has killed him." + +"The reviews have done it," said Ellen, in a low tone. + +Roland groaned. A suspicion, that they must have had something to do +with the decay, had been upon himself. Hamish had never been quite the +same after they appeared: his spirit had seemed to fade away in a +subdued sadness, and subsequently his health followed it. + +"The cruel reviews broke his heart," resumed Mrs. Channing. "I am +certain of it, Roland. A less sensitive man would not have felt it +vitally; a man, physically stronger, could not have suffered in +health. But he is sensitive amidst the most sensitive; and he never, +with all his bright face and fine form, was physically strong. And +so--he could not bear the blow, and it has killed him." + +Roland sat pulling at his whiskers in desperate gloom. Mrs. Channing +shaded her eyes with her hand. + +"If I could but pitch into the reviewers!" he cried. "Were I rich, I'd +offer a thousand pounds' reward to anybody who would bring me their +names. Hang the lot! And if you were not by, Mrs. Channing, it's a +worse word than that I'd say." + +She shook her head. "Pitching into the reviewers, Roland, would not +give him back his life. The publisher thinks that one man wrote them +all: or got them written. Some one who must have had a grudge against +Hamish. It does seem like it." + +Roland's picture might have been taken as an emblem of Despair. +Suddenly the face brightened a little, the sanguine temperament +resumed its sway. + +"Don't you lose heart, Mrs. Channing. I'll tell you something that +happened to me at Port Natal. Uncommon hard-up, I was, and lying in a +place with a strong fever upon me. I thought I was dying; I did +indeed. I was dreaming of Helstonleigh and all the old people there; I +seemed to see Arthur and Hamish, and Hamish smiled at me in his bright +way, and said, 'Cheer up, it will be all right, old friend.' Upon +that, somebody was standing by the bed--which was nothing but a sack +of sand that you roll off unpleasantly--laying hold of my pulse and +looking down at me. I mean really, you know. A chap in the room said +it was a doctor; perhaps it was; but he got me nothing but some +herb-tea to drink. 'Take courage,' says he to me, 'it's half the +battle!' I got well in time, and so may Hamish. _You_ take courage, +Mrs. Channing." + +She smiled a little. "My taking courage would not help my husband, +Roland." + +"Well--no; perhaps it mightn't," acknowledged Roland, resuming his +gloom. "Where is he?" + +She pointed to the other room. "Asleep before the fire." + +Roland softly opened the door and looked in. The firelight played on +Hamish Channing's wasted features; and his dreams seemed to be of a +pleasant nature, for a smile sat on the delicate lips: lips that had +always shown so plainly the man's remarkable refinement. Nevertheless, +sleeping and dreaming peacefully, there was something in the face that +spoke of coming death. And Roland could have burst into sobs as he +stood there. + +Going back again, and closing the door quietly, Roland found the +company augmented in the person of his brother Gerald. For some time +past Gerald Yorke had heard from one and another of Hamish Channing's +increased illness, which made no impression upon him, except a +slightly favourable one; for, if Hamish were incapacitated from +writing, it would be a rival removed from Gerald's path. This +afternoon he was told that Hamish was thought to be past recovery; in +fact, dying. That did arouse him a little; the faint spark of +conscience Gerald Yorke possessed took a twinge, and he thought as he +was near the house he'd give a call in. + +"You are quite a stranger," Mrs. Channing was saying, meeting Gerald +with a cordial hand and a grasp of welcome. "What has kept you away?" + +"Aw--been busy of late; and--aw--worried," answered Gerald, according +a distant nod to Roland. "What's this I hear about Hamish?--That he is +dying!" + +"Well, I don't think you need blurt out that strong word to Mrs. +Channing, Gerald," interposed hot Roland. "Dying, indeed! Do you call +it manners? I don't." + +"I beg Mrs. Channing's pardon," Gerald was beginning, half cynically; +but Ellen's voice rose to interrupt. + +"It makes no difference, Roland," she kindly said. "It is the truth, +you know; and I am not blind to it. + +"What's the matter with him?" asked Gerald. + +The matter with him? Ellen Channing told the brief story in a few +words. The cruel reviews had broken his heart. Gerald listened, and +felt himself turned into a white heat inside and out. + +"The reviews!" he exclaimed. "I don't understand yon, Mrs. Channing." + +"Of course you read them, Gerald, and must know their bitter, shameful +injustice," she explained. "They were such that might have struck a +blow even to a strong man: they struck a fatal one to Hamish. He had +staked his whole heart and hope upon the book; he devoted to it the +great and good abilities with which God had gifted him; he made it +worthy of all praise; and false men rose up and blasted it. A strong +word you may deem that, Gerald, for me to use; but it is a true one. +They rose up, and--in envy, as I believe--set themselves to write and +work out a deliberate lie: they got it sent forth to the world in +effectual channels, and _killed_ the book. Perhaps they did not intend +also to kill the writer." + +Gerald's white face looked whiter than usual. His eyes, in their hard +stare, were very ugly. + +"Still I can't understand," he said. "The critiques were, of course +rather severe: but how can critiques kill a man?" + +"And if you, being a reviewer yourself, Gerald, could only get to find +out who the false-hearted hound was,--for it's thought to have been +one fellow who penned the lot--you'd oblige me," put in Roland. "I'd +_repay_ him, as I've seen it done at Port Natal. His howling would be +something fine." + +"You do not yet entirely understand, I see, Gerald," sadly answered +Ellen, paying no attention to Roland's interruption, while Gerald +turned his shoulder upon him. "In one sense the reviews did not kill. +They did not, for instance, strike Hamish dead at once, or break his +heart with a stroke. In fact, you may think the expression, a broken +heart, but a figure of speech, and in a degree of course it is so. But +there are some natures, and his is one, which are so sensitively +organized that a cruel blow shatters them. Had Hamish been stronger he +might have borne it, have got over it in time; but he had been working +beyond his strength; and I think also his strangely eager hope in +regard to the book must have helped to wear out his frame. It was his +first work, you know. When the blow came he had not strength to rally +from it; mind and body were alike stricken down, and so the weakness +set in and laid hold of him." + +"What are these natures good for?" fiercely demanded Gerald, in a tone +as if he were resenting some personal injury. + +"Only for Heaven, as it seems to me," she gently answered. + +Gerald rubbed his face; he could not get any colour into it, and there +ensued a pause. Presently Ellen spoke again. + +"I remember, when I was quite a girl, reading of a somewhat similar +case in one of Bulwer Lytton's novels. A young artist painted a great +picture--great to him--and insisted on being concealed in the room +while a master came to judge of it. The judgment was adverse; not, +perhaps, particularly harsh and cruel in itself, only sounding so to +the painter; and it killed him. Not at the moment, Gerald; I don't +mean that; he lived to become ill, and he went to Italy for his +health, his heart gradually breaking. He never spoke of what the blow +had been to him, or that it had crushed out his hope and life, but +died hiding it. Hamish has never spoken." + +"What I want to know is, where's the use of people being like this?" +pursued Gerald. "What are they made for?" + +"Scarcely for earth," she answered. "The too-exquisitely-refined gold +is not meant for the world's coinage." + +"I'd rather be a bit of brittle china, than made so that I couldn't +stand a review," said Gerald. "It's to be hoped there's not many such +people." + +"Only one in tens of thousands, Gerald." + +"Does it--trouble him?" asked Gerald, hesitatingly. + +"The advance of death?--yes, in a degree. Not for the death, Gerald: +but the quitting me and Nelly." + +"I'm not yet what Hamish and Arthur are, safe to be heard up there +when they ask for a thing," again interrupted Roland, jerking his head +upwards: "but I do pray that from the day that bad base man hears of +Hamish Channing's death, he'll be haunted by his ghost for ever. My +goodness! I'd not like to have murder on _my_ conscience. It's as bad +as the fellow who killed Mr. Ollivera." + +Gerald Yorke rose. Ellen asked him to wait and see Hamish, but he +answered, in what seemed a desperate hurry, that he had an engagement. + +"You might like to take a peep at him, Gerald," spoke Roland. "His +face looks as peaceful as if it were sainted." + +Gerald's answer was to turn tail and go off. Roland, who had some +copying on hand that was being waited for, stayed to shake hands with +Mrs. Channing. + +"Look here," he whispered to her. "Don't you let him worry his mind +about you and Nelly: in the way of money, you know. I shall be sure to +get into something good soon; Vincent will see to that; and I'll take +care of both of you. Goodbye." + +Poor, penniless, good-hearted Roland! He would have "taken care" of +all the world. + +With a run he caught up Gerald, who was striding along rapidly. +Oblivious of all save the present distress, even of Gerald's past +coldness, Roland attempted to take his arm, and got repulsed for his +pains. + +"My way does not lie the same as yours, I think," was Gerald's haughty +remark. Roland would not resent it. + +"I say, Ger, is it not enough to make one sad? It wouldn't have +mattered much had it been you or me to be taken: but Hamish Channing! +we can't afford to lose such a one as him." + +"Thank you," said Gerald. "Speak for yourself." + +"And with Hamish the bread and cheese dies. She has but little money. +Perhaps she'll not feel the want of it, though. I'd work my arms off +for that darling little Nelly and for her too, for Hamish's sake." + +"I don't believe he is dying at all," said Gerald. "Reviews kill him, +indeed! it's altogether preposterous. Women talk wretched nonsense in +this world." + +Without so much as a parting Goodnight, Gerald struck across the +street and disappeared. By the time he arrived at chambers, his mind +had fully persuaded itself that there was nothing serious the matter +with Hamish Channing; and he felt that he could like to shake Winny +(who had been _his_ informant) for alarming him. + +His servant brought him a letter as he entered, and Gerald tore it +open. It proved to be from Sir Vincent Yorke, inviting Gerald down to +Sunny Mead on the morrow for a couple of days' shooting. + +"Hurrah!" shouted Gerald. "Vin's coming round, is he! I'll go, and get +out of him a hundred or so, to bring back with me to town. That's +good. Hurrah!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. +GERALD YORKE AT A SHOOTING PARTY. + + +It was a pretty place; its name, Sunny Mead, an appropriate one. +For the bright sun (not far yet above the horizon) of the clear +and cold December day, shone on it cheerily: on the walls of the +dwelling-house--on the green grass of the spreading lawn, with its +groups of flowering laurestina and encompassing trees, that in summer +cast a grateful shade. The house was small, but compact; the prospect +from the windows, with its expanse of wood and hill and dale, a +charming one. At its best it was a simple, unpretending place, but as +pleasant a homestead for moderate desires as could be found in the +county of Surrey. + +In a snug room, its fire blazing in the grate, its snowy breakfast +cloth, laden with china and silver, drawn near the large window that +looked upon the lawn, sat the owner, Sir Vincent Yorke, and his cousin +Gerald. As soon as breakfast should be over, they were going out +shooting; but the baronet was by no means one who liked to disturb his +morning's comfort by starting at dawn: shooting, as well as everything +else in life, he liked to take easily. Gerald had arrived the previous +night: it was the first time Gerald had seen Sunny Mead: and the very +unpretending rank it took amidst baronets' dwelling-places, surprised +him. Sir Vincent's marriage was fixed for the following month, +January; and he gratified Gerald much by saying that he thought of +asking him to be groomsman. + +"Aw!--very happy--immensely so," responded Gerald with his most +fashionable drawl, that so grated on a true and honest ear. + +"Sunny Mead has this advantage; one can come to it and be quiet," +observed Sir Vincent. "There's not room for more than three or four +servants in it. My father used to call it the homestead: that's just +what it is, and it doesn't pretend to be aught else. More coffee? Try +that partridge pie. Have you seen Roland lately?" + +The cynical expression of disparagement that pervaded Gerald's face at +the question, made Sir Vincent smile. + +"Aw--I say, don't you spoil my breakfast by bringing up _him_," spoke +Gerald. "The best thing he can do is to go out to Port Natal again. A +capital pie!" + +"This devilled turkey's good, too. You'll try it presently?" spoke the +baronet. "How is Hamish Channing?" + +Gerald's skin turned of a dark hue. Was Sir Vincent purposely annoying +him? Catching up his coffee-cup to take a long draught, he did not +answer. + +"I never saw so fine a fellow in all my life," resumed Sir Vincent. +"Never was so taken with a face at first sight as with his. William +Yorke was staying there at the time of my father's funeral, and I went +next day to call. That's how I saw Channing. He promised to come and +see me; but somebody told me the other day he was ill." + +"Aw--yes," drawled Gerald. "Seedy, I believe." + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"Temper," said Gerald. "Wrote a book, and had some reviews upon it, +and it put him out, I hear." + +"But it was a first-rate book, Gerald; I read it, and the reviews were +all wrong: suppose some contemptible raven of envy scrawled them. The +book's working its way upwards as fast as it can now." + +"Who says so?" cried Gerald. + +"I do. I had the information from a reliable source. By-the-way, is +there anything in that story of Roland's--that he is engaged to +Channing's sister? or is it fancy?" + +"I do wish you'd let the fellow's name be; he's not so very good to +talk of," retorted Gerald, in a rage. + +But Roland was not so easily put out of the conversation. As luck had +it, when the servant brought Sir Vincent's letters in, there was one +from Roland amidst them. Vincent laughed outright as he read it:-- + + +"Dear Vincent,--I happened to overhear old Greatorex say yesterday +that Sir Vincent Yorke wanted a working bailiff for the land at Sunny +Mead. I! wish! to! offer! myself! for! the! situation! There! I put it +strong that you may not mistake. Of course, I am a relative, which I +can't help being; and a working bailiff is but a kind of upper +servant. But I'll be very glad of the place if you'll give it me, and +will do my duty in it as far as I can, putting my best shoulder to the +wheel; and I'll never presume upon our being cousins to go into your +house uninvited, or put myself in your way; and my wife would not call +on Lady Yorke if she did not wish it. I'll be the bailiff--you the +master. + +"I don't tell you I'm a first hand at farming; but, if perseverance +and sticking to work can teach, I shall soon learn it. I picked up +some experience at Port Natal; and had to drive waggons and other +animals. I'm great in pigs. The droves I had to manage of the +grunting, obstinate wretches, out there, taught me enough of them. Of +course I know all about haymaking; and I'd used to be one of the +company at old Pierce's harvest homes, on his farm near Helstonleigh. +I don't suppose you'd want me to thresh the wheat myself; but I'm +strong to do it, and would not mind. I would be always up before dawn +in spring to see to the young lambs; and I'd soon acquire the ins and +outs of manuring and draining. Do try me, Vincent! I'll put my +shoulder to the wheel in earnest for you. There'd be one advantage in +taking me--that I should be honest and true to your interests. Whereas +some bailiffs like to serve themselves better than their masters. + +"As to wages, I'd leave that to you. You'd not give less than a +hundred a year to begin with; and at the twelvemonth's end, when I had +made myself qualified, you might make it two. Perhaps you'd give the +two hundred at once. I don't wish to presume because I'm a relative; +and if the two hundred would be too much at first (for, to tell the +truth, I don't know how bailiffs' pay runs), please excuse my having +named it. I expect there are lots of pretty cottages to be hired down +there; may be there's one on the estate appropriated to the bailiff. I +may as well mention that I am a first-rate horseman, and could gallop +about like a fire-engine; having nearly lost my life more times than +one, learning to ride the wild cattle when up the country at Port +Natal. + +"I think that's all I have to say. Only try me! If you do, you will +find how willing I am. Besides being strong, I am naturally active, +with plenty of energy: the land should not go to ruin for the want of +being looked after. My object in life now is to get a certainty that +will bring me in something tolerably good to begin, and go on to three +hundred a year, or more; for I should not like Annabel to take pupils +always. I don't know whether a bailiff ever gets as much. + +"Bede Greatorex can give you a good character of me for steadiness and +industry. And if I have stuck to this work, I should do better by +yours; for writing I hate, and knocking about a farm I'd like better +than anything. + +"You'll let me have an answer as soon as convenient. If you take me I +shall have to order leggings and other suitable toggery from Carrick's +tailor; and he might be getting on with the things. + +"Wishing you a merry Christmas, which will soon be here (don't I +recollect one of mine at Port Natal, when I had nothing for dinner and +the same for supper), I remain, dear Vincent, yours truly, + + "Roland Yorke. + +"_Sir Vincent Yorke_." + + +To watch the curl of Gerald's lip, the angry sarcasm of his face, as +he perused this document, which the baronet handed to him with a +laugh, was amusing. It might have made a model of scorn for a +painter's easel. Dropping the letter from his fingers, as if there +were contamination in its very touch, he flicked it across the table. + +"You'll send it back to him in a blank envelope, won't you?" + +"No; why should I?" returned Sir Vincent, who was good-natured in the +main, easy on the whole. "I'll answer him when I've time. Do you know, +Gerald, I think you rather disparage Roland." + +Gerald opened his astonished eyes. "Disparage him! How _can_ he be +disparaged?--he is just as low as he can be. An awful blot, nothing +else, on the family escutcheon." + +"The family don't seem to be troubled much by him--saving me. He +appears to regard me as a sheet-anchor--who can provide for the world, +himself included. I rather like the young fellow; he is so genuine." + +"Don't call him young," reproved Gerald; "he'll be twenty-nine next +May." + +"And in mind and manners he is nineteen." + +"He talks of pigs--see what he has brought _his_ to," exclaimed +Gerald, somewhat forgetting his fashion. "The--aw--low kind of work he +condescends to do--the mean way he is not ashamed to confess he lives +in! Every bit of family pride has gone out of him, and given place to +vulgar instincts." + +"As Roland has tumbled into the mire, better for him to be honest and +work," returned Sir Vincent, mincing with his dry toast and one +poached egg, for he was delicate in appetite. "What else could he do? +Of course there's the credit system and periodical whitewashings, but +I should not care to go in for that kind of thing myself." + +"Are you in want of a bailiff?" growled Gerald, wondering whether the +last remarks were meant to be personal. + +"Greatorex has engaged one for me. How are you getting on yourself, +Gerald?" + +"Not--aw--at all. I'm awfully hard up." + +"You always are, Ger, according to your story," was the baronet's +remark, laughing slightly. + +And somehow the laugh sounded in Gerald's ear as a hard laugh--as one +that boded no good results to the petition he meant to prefer before +his departure--that Sir Vincent would accommodate him with a loan. + +"He's close-fisted as a miser," was Gerald's mental comment. "His +father all over again. Neither of them would part with a shilling save +for self-gratification: and both could spend enough on _that_. I'll +ask him for a hundred, point blank, before I leave; more, if I can +feel my way to do it. Fortune is shamefully unequal in this life. +There's Vin with his baronetcy, and his nice little place here and +every comfort in it, and his town house, and his clear four thousand +a-year, and no end of odds and ends of money besides, nest eggs of +various shapes and sizes, and his future wife a seventy thousand +pounder in her own right; and here's myself by his side, a better man +than he any day, with not a coin of my own in the whole world, nor +likely to drop into one by inheritance, and afraid to venture about +London for fear of being nabbed! Curse the whole thing! He is shabby +in trifles too. To give me a miserable two days' invitation. Two days! +I'll remain twenty if I can." + +"You don't eat, Gerald." + +"I've made a famous breakfast, thank you. Do you spend Christmas down +here, Vincent?" + +"Not I. The day after tomorrow, when you leave me, I start for Paris." + +"For Paris!" echoed Gerald, his mouth falling at the sudden failure of +his pleasant scheme. + +"Miss Trehern and her father are there. We shall remain for the jour +de l'an, see the bonbon shops, and all that, and then come back +again." + +"And I hope the bonbon shops will choke him!" thought kindly Gerald. + +Sir Vincent Yorke did not himself go in for keepers and dogs. There +was little game on his land, and he was too effeminate to be much of a +sportsman. He owned two guns, and that comprised the whole of his +shooting paraphernalia. Breakfast over, he had his guns brought, and +desired Gerald to take his choice. + +Now the handling and understanding of guns did not rank amidst Gerald +Yorke's accomplishments. Brought up in the cathedral town, only away +from it on occasions at Dr. Yorke's living (and that happened to be in +a town also), the young Yorkes were not made familiar with outdoor +sports. Dr. Yorke had never followed them himself, and saw no +necessity for training his sons to them. Even riding they were not +very familiar with. Roland's letter had just informed Sir Vincent that +he had nearly lost his life _learning to ride_ the wild horses when up +the country at Port Natal. Probably he had learnt also to understand +something about guns: we may be very sure of one thing, that if he did +not understand them, he would have voluntarily avowed it. Not so +Gerald. Gerald, made up of artificialisms--for nothing seemed real +about him but his ill-temper--touched the guns here, and fingered the +guns there, and critically examined them everywhere, as if he were the +greatest connoisseur alive, and had invented a breech-loader himself; +and finally said he would take _this_ one. + +So they went out, each with his gun and a favourite dog of the +baronet's, Spot, and joined a neighbour's shooting party, as had been +arranged. Colonel Clutton's land joined Sir Vincent's; he was a keen +lover of sport, always making up parties for it, and if Sir Vincent +went out at all, it was sure to be with Colonel Clutton. + +"To-day and tomorrow will be my last turn out this season," observed +the baronet, as they walked along. "Not sorry for it. One gets a large +amount of fatigue: don't think the slaughter compensates for that." + +Reaching the meeting-place, they found a party of some three or four +gentlemen and two keepers. Gerald was introduced to Colonel Clutton, +an elderly man with snow-white hair. The sport set in. It was late in +the season, and the birds were getting scarce or wary, but a tolerably +fair number fell. + +"The gentleman don't seem to handle his gun gainly, sir, as if he'd +played with one as a babby," observed one of the keepers +confidentially in Sir Vincent's ear. + +He alluded to Gerald Yorke. Sir Vincent turned and looked. Though not +much addicted to shooting, he was thoroughly conversant with it: and +what he saw, as he watched Gerald, a little surprised him. + +"I say, Gerald Yorke, you must take care," he called out. "Did you +never handle a gun before?" + +The suggestion offended Gerald: the question nettled him. His face +grew dark. + +"What do you mean, Sir Vincent?" was his angry answer. He would have +liked to affirm his great knowledge of shooting: but his chief +practice had been with a pop-gun at school. + +Sir Vincent laughed a little. "Don't do any mischief, that's all." + +It might have been that the public caution caused Gerald to be more +careless, just to prove his proficiency; it might have been that it +tended to flurry him. Certainly he would not have caused harm +wilfully; but nevertheless it took place. + +Not ten minutes after Sir Vincent had spoken, he was crossing a narrow +strip of open ground towards a copse. Gerald, leaping through a gap in +the hedge not far behind, carrying his gun (like a senseless man) on +full cock, contrived, in some inexplicable manner, to discharge it. +Whether his elbow caught in the leafless branches, or the trigger +caught, or what it was, Gerald Yorke never knew, and never will know +to his dying day. The charge went off; there was a cry, accompanied by +shouts of warning, somebody on the ground in front, and the rest +running to surround the fallen man. + +"You have no right to come out, sir, unless you can handle a gun +properly!" spoke Colonel Clutton to Gerald, in the moment's confusion. +"I have been watching your awkwardness all the morning." + +Gerald looked pale with fear, dark with anger. He made no reply +whatever only pressed forward to see who was down, the men, in their +velveteen coats and leggings, looking much alike. Sir Vincent Yorke. + +"It's not much, I think," said the baronet good-naturedly, as he +looked up at Gerald. "But I say, though, you should have candidly +answered me that you were not in the habit of shooting, when I sent +you the invitation." + +No, it was not much. A few shots had entered the calf of the left leg. +They got out pocket-handkerchiefs, and tied them tightly round to stop +the hemorrhage. The dog, Spot, laid his head close to his master's +face, and whined pitiably. + +"What sense them dumb animals have!--a'most human!" remarked the +keeper. + +"This will stop my Paris trip," observed Sir Vincent, as they were +conveying him home. + +"Better that was stopped than your wedding," replied Colonel Clutton, +with a jesting smile. "You keep yourself quiet, now, that you may be +well for _that_. Don't talk." + +Sir Vincent acquiesced readily. At the best of times he was sensitive +to pain, and somewhat of a coward in regard to his own health. At home +he was met by a skilful surgeon. The shots were extracted, and Sir +Vincent was made comfortable in bed. Gerald Yorke waylaid the doctor +afterwards. + +"Is it serious? Will he do well? Sir Vincent is my cousin." + +"Oh--Mr. Yorke; the gentleman whose gun unfortunately caused the +mishap," was the answering remark. "Of course these accidents are +always serious, more or less. This one might have been far worse than +it is." + +"He will do well?" + +"Quite well. At least, I hope so. I see nothing to hinder it. Sir +Vincent will be a tractable patient, you see; and a good deal lies in +that." + +"There's no danger, then?" + +"Oh no: no danger." + +Gerald, relieved on the score of apprehension of consequences, had the +grace to express his regret and sorrow to the baronet. Sir Vincent +begged him to think no more about it: only recommended him not to go +out with a party in future, until he had had some practice. Gerald, +untrue to the end, said he was a little out of practice; should soon +get into it again. Sir Vincent made quite light of the hurt; it was +nothing to speak of, the doctor had said; would not delay his +marriage, or anything. But he did not ask Gerald to remain: and that +gentleman, in spite of his hints, and his final offer to stay, found +he was expected to go. Sir Vincent expressed his acknowledgments, but +said he wished for perfect quiet. + +So on the day following the accident, Gerald Yorke returned to town; +which was a day sooner than, even at the worst, he had bargained for; +and arrived in a temper. Taking one untoward disappointment with +another, Gerald's mood could not be expected to be heavenly. He had +fully intended to come away with his pockets lined--if by dint of +persuasion Sir Vincent could be seduced into doing it. As it was, +Gerald had not broached the subject. Sir Vincent was to be kept +entirely quiet; and Gerald, with all his native assurance, could not +ask a man for money, whom he had just shot. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. +IN CUSTODY. + + +Pacing his carpet, in the worst state of perturbation possible, was +the Rev. Mr. Ollivera. He had so paced it all the morning. Neglecting +his ordinary duties, staying indoors when he ought to have been out, +unable to eat or to rest, he and his mind were alike in a state of +most distressing indecision. The whole of the night had he tossed and +turned, and rose up again and again to walk his room, struggling with +his conscience. For years past, he had, so to say, lived on the +anticipation of this hour: when the memory of his dear brother should +be cleared of its foul stain, and the true criminal brought to light. +And, now that it had come, he was hesitating whether or not to take +advantage of it: whether to let the stain remain, and the criminal +escape. + +Torn to pieces with doubt and pain, was he. Unable to see _where_ his +duty lay, more than once, with lifted hands and eyes and heart, a cry +to Heaven to direct him broke from his lips. Passages of Scripture, +bearing both ways, crowded on his mind, to puzzle him the more; but +there was one great lesson he could not ignore--the loving, merciful +teaching of Jesus Christ. + +About one o'clock, when the remembrance of the miserable grave, and of +him who had been so miserably put into it, lay very strong upon him, +Alletha Rye came into the room with some white cravats of the parson's +in her hand. She was neat and nice as usual, wearing a soft merino +gown with white worked cuffs and collars, her fair hair smooth and +abundant. + +"I have done the best I could with them, sir: cut off the edges and +hemmed them afresh," she said. "After that, I passed the iron over +them, and they look just as if fresh got up. + +"Thank you," murmured Mr. Ollivera, the colour flushing his face, and +speaking in a confused kind of manner, like a man overtaken in a +crime. + +"Great heaven, can I go on with it?" he exclaimed, as she went out, +leaving the neckerchiefs on the table. "Is it possible to believe that +she _did_ it?--with her calm good face, with her clear honest eye?" he +continued in an agony of distress. "Oh, for guidance! that I may be +shown what my course ought to be!" As a personal matter, to give +Alletha Rye into custody would cause him grievous pain. She had lived +under the same roof with him, showing him voluntarily a hundred little +courtesies and kindnesses. These white cravats of his, just put to +rights, had been undertaken in pure good will. + +How very much of our terrible seasons of distress might be spared to +us, if we could but see a little further than the present moment; than +the atmosphere immediately around. Henry William Ollivera might have +been saved his: had he but known that while he was doubting, another +was acting. Mr. Greatorex had taken it into his own hands, and the +house's trouble was, even then, at the very door. In after life, Henry +Ollivera never ceased to be thankful that it was not himself who +brought it. + +A commotion below. Mr. Roland Yorke had entered, and was calling out +to the house to bring his dinner. It was taken to him in the shape of +some slices of roast mutton and potatoes. When Mrs. Jones had a joint +herself, Roland was served from it. That she was no gainer by the +bargain, Mrs. Jones was conscious of; the small sum she allowed +herself in repayment out of the weekly sovereign, debarred it: but +Roland was favoured for the sake of old times. + +Close almost upon that, there came a rather quiet double knock at the +street door, which Miss Rye went to answer. Roland thought he +recognised a voice, and ran out, his mouth full of mutton. + +"Why, it's never you, old Butterby! What brings you in London again?" + +Whatever brought Mr. Butterby to London, something curious appeared to +have brought him to Mrs. Jones's. A policeman had followed him in, and +was shutting the street door, with a manner quite at home. There +escaped a faint cry from Alletha, and her face turned white as ashes. +Roland stared from one to the other. + +"What on earth's the matter?" demanded he. + +"I'd like to speak to you in private for a minute, Miss Rye," said Mr. +Butterby, in a low civil tone. "Tompkins, you wait there." + +She went higher up the passage and looked round something liked a stag +at bay. There was no unoccupied room to take him to. Mr. Brown's +frugal dinner tray (luncheon, as he called it) was in his, awaiting +his entrance. That the terrible man of law with his officer had come +to arrest _him_ Alletha never doubted. A hundred wild ideas of +telegraphing him some impossible warning, _not_ to enter, went teeming +through her brain. Tompkins stood on the entrance mat; Roland Yorke, +with his accustomed curiosity, put his back against his parlour +door-post to watch proceedings. + +"Miss Rye, I'd not have done this of my own accord, leastways not so +soon, but it has been forced upon me," whispered Mr. Butterby. "I've +got to ask you to go with me." + +"To ask _me?_" she tremblingly said, while he was showing her a paper: +probably the warrant. + +"Are you so much surprised: after that there avowal you made to me +last night? If I'd gone and told a police officer that I had killed +somebody, it would not astonish me to be took." + +Her face fell. The pallor of her cheeks was coloured by a faint +crimson; her eyes flashed with a condemning light. + +"I told you in confidence, as one friend might speak to another, in +defence of him who was not there to defend himself," she panted. "How +could I suppose you would hasten treacherously to use it against me?" + +"Ah," said Mr. Butterby, "in things of that sort us law defenders is +just the wrong sort to make confidants of. But now, look here, Miss +Rye, I didn't go and abuse that confidence, and though it is me that +has put the wheels of the law in motion, it is done in obedience to +orders, which I had no power to stop. I'm sorry to have to do it: and +I've come down with the warrant myself out of respect to you, that +things might be accomplished as genteel as might be." + +"Now then, Alletha! Do you know that your dinner's getting cold? What +on earth are you stopping there for? Who is it?" + +The interruption was from Mrs. Jones, called out through the nearly +closed door of her parlour. Alletha, making no response, looked fit to +die. + +"Have you come to arrest me?" she whispered. + +"Well, it's about it, Miss Rye. Apprehend, that is. We'll get a cab +and you'll go in it with my friend there, all snug and quiet. I'm +vexed that young Yorke should just be at home. Tried to get here half +an hour earlier, but--" + +Mrs. Jones's door was pulled open with a jerk. To describe the +aggravated astonishment on her face when she saw the state of affairs, +would be a work of skill. Alletha with a countenance of ghastly fear; +Mr. Butterby whispering to her; the policeman on the door mat; Roland +Yorke looking leisurely on. + +"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones. "What may be the meaning of +this?" + +There could be no evasion now. Had Alletha in her secret heart hoped +to keep it from her tart, condemning, and strong-minded sister, the +possibility was over. She went down the few steps that led to the +room, and entered it; Mr. Butterby close behind her. The latter was +shutting the door, when Roland Yorke walked in, taking French leave. + +Which of the two stared the most, Mrs. Jones or Roland, and which of +the two felt inclined to abuse Mr. Butterby the most, when his errand +became known, remains a question to this day. Roland's championship +was hot. + +"You know you always do take the wrong people, Butterby!" + +"Now, young Mr. Yorke, just you concern yourself with your own +business, and leave other folk's alone," was the detective's answering +reprimand. "I don't see what call you have to be in this here room at +all." + +In all the phases of the affair, with its attendant conjectures and +suspicions, from the first moment that she saw John Ollivera lying +dead in her house, the possibility of Alletha's being cognisant of its +cause, much less connected with it, had never once entered the head of +Mrs. Jones. She stared from one to the other in simple wonder. + +"_What_ is it you charge my sister with, Butterby?--the death of +Counsellor Ollivera?" + +"Well, yes; that's it," he answered. + +"And how dare you do it?" + +"Now, look you here, Mrs. Jones," said Butterby, in a tone of reason, +putting his hand calmly on her wrist, "I've told Miss Rye, and I tell +you, that these proceedings are instituted by the law, not by me; if I +had not come to carry them out, another would, who might have done it +in a rougher manner. A woman of your sense ought to see the matter in +its right light. I don't say she's guilty, and I hope she'll be able +to prove that she's not; but I can tell you this much, Mrs. Jones, +there's them that have had their suspicions turned upon her from the +first." + +_Being_ a woman of sense, as Mr. Butterby delicately insinuated, Mrs. +Jones began to feel a trifle staggered. Not at his words: they had +little power over _her_ mind, but at Alletha's appearance. Leaning +against the wall there, white, faint, silent, she looked like one +guilty, rather than innocent. And it suddenly struck Mrs. Jones that +she did not attempt a syllable in her own defence. + +"Why don't you speak out, girl?" she demanded, in her tartest tone. +"You can, I suppose?" + +But the commotion had begun to cause attention in the quiet house. Not +so much from its noise, as by that subtle instinct that makes itself +heard, we cannot tell how; and Mr. Ollivera came in. + +"Who has done this?" he briefly asked of the detective. + +"Mr. Greatorex, sir." + +"The next thing they'll do may be to take me up on the charge," spoke +Mrs. Jones with acrimony. "What on earth put this into their miserable +heads? _You_ don't suspect her, I hope, Mr. Ollivera?" + +He only looked at Mrs. Jones in silence by way of answer, a grave +meaning in his sad face. It spoke volumes: and Mrs. Jones, albeit not +one to give way to emotion, or any other kind of weakness, felt as if +a jug of cold water were being poured down her back. Straightforward, +always, she put the question to him with naked plainness. + +"_Do_ you suspect her?" + +"I have suspected her," came the low tones of Mr. Ollivera in answer. +"Believe me, Mrs. Jones, whatever may be the final result of this, I +grieve for it bitterly." + +"I say, why can't you speak up, and say you did not do it?" stamped +Roland in his championship. "Don't be frightened out of your senses by +Butterby. He never pitches upon the right person; Mrs. J. remembers +_that_." + +"As this here talking won't do any good--and I'm sure if it would I'd +let it go on a bit--suppose we make a move," interposed Butterby. "If +you'd like to put up a few things to take with you, Miss Rye, do so. +You'll have to go to Helstonleigh." + +"Oh law!" cried Roland. "I say, Butterby, it's a mistake, I know. Let +her go. Come! you shall have all my dinner." + +"Don't stand there like a statue, as if you were moonstruck," said +Mrs. Jones, seizing her sister to administer a slight shaking. "Tell +them you are innocent, girl, if you can; and let Butterby go about his +business." + +And in response, Alletha neither spoke nor moved. + +But at this moment another actor came upon the scene. A knock at the +front door was politely answered at once by the policeman, glad, no +doubt, to have something to do, and Mr. Brown entered, arriving at +home for his midday meal. Roland dashed into the passage. + +"I say, Brown, here _is_ a stunning shame. Old Butterby's come to take +up Alletha Rye." + +"Take her up for what?" Mr. Brown calmly asked. + +"For the killing and slaying of Counsellor Ollivera, he says. But in +these things he never was anything but a calf." + +Mr. Brown turned into his room, put down his hat and a small paper +parcel, and went on to the scene. Before he could say a word, Alletha +Rye burst forth like one demented. + +"Don't come here Mr. Brown. We've nothing to do with strangers. I +can't have all the world looking at me." + +Mr. Brown took a quiet survey of matters with perfect self-possession, +and then drew Mr. Butterby towards his room, just as though he had +possessed the authority of Scotland Yard. Mrs. Jones was left alone +with her sister, and caught hold of her two hands. + +"Now then! What is the English of this? Had you aught to do with the +death of Mr. Ollivera?" + +"Never," said Alletha; "I would not have hurt a hair of his head." + +Mrs. Jones, at the answer, hardly knew whether to slap the young +woman's face or to shriek at her. All this disgrace brought upon her +house, and Alletha to submit to it in unrefuting tameness! As a +preliminary, she began a torrent of words. + +"Hush!" said Alletha. "They think me guilty, and at present they must +be let think it. I cannot help myself: if Butterby conveys me to +Helstonleigh, he must do it." + +Mrs. Jones was nearly staggered out of her passion. The cold water +went trickling down again. Not at once could she answer. + +"Lord help the wench for a fool! Don't you know that! if you are +conveyed to Helstonleigh it would be to take your trial at the next +assizes? Would you face _that?_" + +"I cannot tell," wailed Alletha, putting up her thin hand to her +troubled face. "I must have time to think." + +But we must follow Mr. Brown. As he passed into his room and closed +the door, he took a tolerably long look into Butterby's eyes: possibly +hoping to discover whether that astute officer knew him for Godfrey +Pitman. He obtained no result. Had Mr. Butterby been a born natural he +could not have looked more charmingly innocent. That he chose to +indulge this demand for an interview for purposes of his own, those +who knew him could not doubt. They stood together before the fireless +hearth; however cold the weather might be, Mr. Brown's fire went out +after breakfast and was not re-lighted until night. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Butterby. With so much confusion in +there"--nodding in the direction of Mrs. Jones's parlour--"I am not +sure that I fully understood. Is it true that you are about to take +Miss Rye into custody on suspicion of having caused the death of John +Ollivera?" + +"I have took her," was the short answer. "It is nothing to you, I +suppose." + +"It is this much to me: that I happen to be in a position to testify +that she did not do it." + +"Oh, you think so, do you," said Butterby, in a civil but slightly +mocking tone. "I've knowed ten men at least swear to one man's +innocence of a crime, and him guilty all the while. Don't say it was +perjury: appearances is deceptive, and human nature's soft." + +"I affirm to you, in the hearing of Heaven, that Alletha Rye was +innocent of the death of John Ollivera," said Mr. Brown in a solemn +tone that might have carried conviction to even a less experienced +ear. "She had nothing whatever to do with it. Until the following +morning, when she found him, she was as ignorant as you that he was +dead." + +"Then why don't she speak up and say so? Not that it could make any +difference at the present stage of affairs." + +"Will you let me ask who it is that has had her apprehended? Mr. Bede +Greatorex?" + +"Bede Greatorex has had nothing to do with it. 'Twas his father." + +"Well now, I have a favour to ask you, Mr. Butterby," continued the +other after a pause. "The good name of a young woman is a great deal +easier lost than regained, as no one can tell better than yourself. It +will be an awful thing if Alletha Rye, being innocent--as I swear to +you she is--should be accused of this dreadful crime before the world. +You have known her a long while: will you not stretch a point to save +it?" + +"That might depend a good deal upon what the point was," replied Mr. +Butterby. + +"A very simple one. Only this--that you would stay proceedings until I +have had time to see Bede Greatorex. Let her remain here, in custody +of course--for I am not so foolish as to suppose you could release +her--but don't molest her; don't take her away. In fact, _treat her as +though you knew_ she were wrongfully accused. You may be obliged to me +for this later, Mr. Butterby--I won't say in the interests of +humanity, but of justice." + +Various thoughts and experiences of the past, as connected with Bede +Greatorex, came crowding into the mind of Butterby. His lips parted +with a smile, but it was not a favourable one. + +"I think that Bede Greatorex could join with me in satisfying you that +it was not Miss Rye," urged the petitioner. "I am almost sure he can +do this if he will. + +"Which is as much as to say that both he and you have got your +suspicions turned on some other quarter," rejoined Butterby. "Who was +it?" + +That Mr. Brown's cheeks took a darker tinge at the direct query, was +plain to be seen. He made no answer. + +"Come! Who did that thing? _You_ know." + +"If I do not know--and I am unable to tell you that I do, Mr. +Butterby--I can yet make a shrewd guess at it." + +"And Bede Greatorex too, you say?" + +"I fancy he can." + +Looking into each other's eyes, those two deep men, there ensued a +silence. "If it wasn't this woman," whispered Butterby, "perhaps it was +another." + +The clerk opened his lips to speak in hasty impulse: but he closed +them again, still looking hard at the officer. + +"Whether it was or not, the woman was not Alletha Rye." + +"Then," said Mr. Butterby, following out his own private thoughts, and +giving the table an emphatic slap, which caused the frugal luncheon +tray to jingle, "this thing will never be brought to trial." + +"I don't much think it will," was the significant answer. "But you +will consent to what I ask? I won't be away long. A quarter of an hour +will suffice for my interview with Bede Greatorex." + +Weighing chances and possibilities, as it lay in the business of Mr. +Butterby to do; knowing who the man before him was, with the suspicion +attaching to him, he thought it might be as well to keep him under +view. There was no apparent intention to escape; the clerk seemed +honest as the day on this present purpose, and strangely earnest; but +Mr. Butterby had learnt to trust nobody. + +"I'll go with yon," said he. "Tompkins will keep matters safe here. +Come on. Hang me if this case ever had its fellow: it turns one about +with its little finger." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. +BETWEEN BEDE AND HIS CLERK. + + +They stood near each other, Bede Greatorex and his managing clerk, +while Mr. Butterby paced the passage outside. + +When interrupted, Bede had his elbow on the mantelpiece, his brow bent +on his thin fingers. A good blazing fire here, the coal crackling and +sparkling cheerily. Bede dropped his elbow. + +"What is it, Mr. Brown?" he rather languidly asked. + +Mr. Brown, closing the door, went straight up and said what it was: +Alletha Rye had been apprehended. But he looked anywhere, as he spoke, +rather than into the face of his master. A face that grew suddenly +white and cold: and Mr. Brown, in his delicacy of mind, would not +appear to see it. + +"What a cursed meddler that Butterby is!" exclaimed Bede. + +"I fancy he had no option in this, sir; that it was not left to his +choice." + +"Who did it, then?" + +"Mr. Greatorex. This must be remedied at once, sir." + +By the authoritative manner in which he spoke, it might have been +thought that Bede Greatorex was the servant, Brown the master. Bede +put his elbow on the shelf again, and pushed back his hair in +unmistakable agitation. It was growing thin now, the once luxuriant +crop; and silver threads were interwoven with the black ones. + +"She must be saved," repeated Mr. Brown. + +"I suppose so. Who is to do it?" + +"I must, sir. If no one else does." + +Bede raised his eyes to glance at his clerk; but it was not a full +free glance, and they were instantly dropped again. + +"You are the Godfrey Pitman, they tell me, who was in the house at the +time." + +"Yes, I am. But have you not known it all along, Mr. Bede Greatorex?" + +"All along from when?" + +Mr. Brown hesitated. "From the time I came here as clerk." + +"No; certainly I have not." + +"There were times, sir, when I fancied it." + +A long silence. Even now, whatever secret, or association, there might +be between these two men, neither was at ease with the other. Bede +especially seemed to shrink from farther explanation. + +"I have known but for a short while of your identity with Godfrey +Pitman," he resumed. "And with George Winter. I have been waiting my +own time to confer with you upon the subject. We have been very busy." + +We have been very busy! If Bede put that forth as an excuse, it +did not serve him: for his hearer knew it was not the true one. He +simply answered that they _had_ been very busy. Not by so much as a +look or a syllable would George Winter--let us at last give him his +true name--add to the terrible pain he knew his master to be +suffering. + +"About Miss Rye, sir? She must be extricated from her unpleasant +position." + +"Yes, of course." + +"And her innocence proved." + +"At the expense of another?" asked Bede, without lifting his eyes. + +"No," answered the other in a low tone. "I do not think that need be." + +Bede looked straight into the fire, his companion full at the +window-blind, drawn half way down; neither of them at one another. + +"How will you avoid it?" asked Bede. + +"I think it may be avoided, sir. For a little while past, I have +foreseen that some such a crisis as this would come: and I have dwelt +and dwelt upon it until I seem to be able to track out my way in it +perfectly clear." + +Bede cracked the coal in the grate; which did not require cracking. +"Do you mean that you have foreseen Miss Rye would be taken? Such a +thought in regard to her never crossed my mind." + +"Nor mine. I allude to myself, sir. If once I was discovered to be the +so-called Godfrey Pitman--and some instinct told me the discovery was +at last approaching--I knew that I should, in all probability, be +charged with the murder of Mr. Ollivera. I--an innocent man--would not +suffer for this, Mr. Greatorex; I should be obliged, in self-defence, +to repel the accusation: and I have been considering how it might be +done without compromising others. I think it can be." + +"How?" repeated Bede shortly. + +"By my not telling the whole truth. By not knowing--I mean not having +recognized the--the one--who would be compromised if I did tell it. I +think this is feasible, sir." + +Just a momentary glance into each other's eyes; no more; and it spoke +volumes. Bede, facing the fire again, stood several minutes in deep +consideration. George Winter seemed occupied with one of his gloves +that had a refractory button. + +"In any case it must now be known who you are," said Bede. + +"That will not signify. In throwing the onus of the----" he seemed to +hesitate, as he had once hesitated in the last sentence--"the death +off Miss Rye, I throw it equally off my own shoulders. I have for some +months wished that I could declare myself." + +"Why have you not done it?" + +George Winter looked at his master, surprise in his eyes. "It is not +for my own sake that I have kept it concealed, sir." + +No. Bede Greatorex knew that it was for _his_; at least for his +interests; and he felt the obligation in his heart. He did not speak +it; pride and a variety of other unhappy feelings kept him silent. Of +all the miserable moments that the death of John Ollivera had entailed +upon him, this confidential interview with his clerk was not the least +of them. Forced though he was to hold it, he hated it with his whole +soul. + +"You took that cheque from my desk," said Bede. "And wrote me the +subsequent letter." + +"I did not take it from the desk, sir. Your expressed and continuous +belief--that you had put it in--was a mistaken one. It must have +slipped from your hands when about to lock up the other papers you +held, and fluttered under the desk table. Perhaps you will allow me to +give you the explanation now." + +Bede nodded. + +"In the morning of the day that the cheque was lost, you may remember +coming into the front room and seeing a stranger with me. His name was +Foster; a farmer and corn-dealer near Birmingham. I had been out on an +errand; and, on turning in again, a gentleman stopped me to enquire +the way. While I was directing him there ensued a mutual recognition. +In one sense I owed him some money: forty-four pounds. Samuel Teague, +of whom you may have heard----" + +"I know," interrupted Bede. + +"Samuel Teague, just before he ran away, had got me to put my name to +a bill for him; Mr. Foster, in all good faith, had let him have the +money for it. It had never been repaid. But upon Mr. Foster's meeting +me that morning, he gave me my choice--to find the money for him +before he left London, or be denounced publicly as George Winter. I +thought he would have denounced me then. He came into the office and +would not be got rid of: saying that he had looked for me too long to +let me go, now that I was found. What I was to do I did not know. _I_ +had no objection to resume my own name, for I had cleared myself with +Johnson and Teague, but it must have involved the exposure relating to +the affair at Helstonleigh. The thought occurred to me of declaring +the dilemma to you, letting you decide whether that exposure should +come, or whether you would lend me the forty-four pounds to avert it. +But I shrank from doing that." + +"Why?" again interposed Bede. + +"Because I thought _you_ would dislike my entering upon the subject, +sir. I have shrunk from it always. Now that the necessity is forced +upon me, I am shrinking from it as I speak." + +Ah, but not so much as Bede was. "Go on." + +"While I sat at my desk, inwardly deliberating, Mr. Frank came in, +asking you to draw out a cheque for Sir Richard Yorke for forty-four +pounds. The strange coincidence between the sum and the money demanded +of me, struck me as being most singular. It strikes me so still. Later +in the morning, I came into this room with some deeds, and saw a piece +of paper lying under the table. Upon picking it up--which I did simply +to replace it on the desk--I found it was the cheque. My first thought +was that it must be a special, almost a supernatural, intervention in +my favour; my second, that it was just possible you had left it there +for me to take. Both ideas very far-fetched and imaginatory, as I saw +at once. But I used the cheque, Mr. Bede Greatorex. I went home, put +on the false hair I had worn as Godfrey Pitman, for I have it by me +still, and got the cheque cashed in gold. It was not for my sake I did +this; I hated it bitterly. And then I hesitated to use the money. At +night I went to Mr. Foster's hotel, and told him that I would get the +money for him by the following night _if I could_; if I could not, he +must carry out his threat of denouncing me to the public and Mr. +Greatorex. Foster consented to wait. I returned to my lodgings and +wrote that anonymous note to you, sir, not telling you who had taken +the cheque; merely saying that exposure was threatened of the private +circumstances, known only to one or two, attendant on Mr. Ollivera's +death at Helstonleigh; that the money had been taken to avert the +exposure, and would be applied to that purpose, provided you were +agreeable. If not, and you wished the money returned, you were +requested to drop a note without loss of a moment to a certain +address: if no such note were written, the money would be used in the +course of the day, and things kept silent as heretofore. You sent no +answer, and I paid it to Foster in the evening. I have never been able +to decide whether you suspected me as the writer, or not." + +"No. I fancied it might be Hurst." + +"Hurst!" exclaimed George Winter in great surprise. + +Bede looked up for a moment. "I felt sure the cheque must have been +taken by one of you in the next room. Not knowing you then for Godfrey +Pitman, my thoughts fell on Hurst. His father was the attendant +surgeon, and might have made some critical discovery." + +"I don't see how he could have done that, sir," was the dissenting +answer. + +"Nor did I. But it is the doubt in these cases that causes the fear. I +should like to ask you a question--was it by accident or purposed +design that you came to our house as a clerk?" + +"Purely by accident. When the misfortunes fell upon me in Birmingham, +and I was unwise enough to follow Samuel Teague's example and run +away, I retained one friend, who stood by me. After quitting +Helstonleigh on the Monday night, I concealed myself elsewhere for +three or four days, and then went to him in Essex, where he lived. He +procured me a clerkship in a lawyer's office in the same county, Mr. +Cale's, with whom I stayed about a year. Mr. Cale found me very +useful, and when his health failed, and he retired in consequence from +practice, he sent me up here to Mr. Greatorex with a strong +recommendation." + +"You have served us well," said Bede. "Was not your quitting +Birmingham a mistake?" + +"The worst I ever made. I solemnly declare that I was entirely +innocent. Not only innocent myself, but unsuspicious of anything wrong +on the part of Samuel Teague. He took me in, as he took in everybody +else. Johnson and Teague know it now, and have at length done me the +justice to acknowledge it. I knew of young Teague's profuse +expenditure: he used to tell me he had the money from his uncle old +Mr. Teague, and it never occurred to me to doubt it. Where I erred, +was in going to the old man and blurting out the truth. He died of the +shock. I shall never forgive myself for that: it seemed to me always +as though I had murdered him. With his dead form, as it seemed, +pursuing me, with the knowledge that I was to be included in the +charge of forgery, I lost my sober senses. In my fright, I saw no +escape but in flight; and I got away on the Sunday afternoon as far as +Helstonleigh. It was in the opposite direction to the one Samuel +Teague was thought to have taken, and I wanted to see Alletha Rye, if +it were practicable, and assure her before we finally parted, that, +though bad enough, I was not quite the villain people were making me +out to be. There--there are strange coincidences in this life, Mr. +Bede Greatorex." + +"You may well say that," answered Bede. + +"And one of the strangest was that of my accidentally meeting Alletha +Rye five minutes after I reached Helstonleigh. Forgetting my disguise, +I stopped to accost her--and have not forgotten her surprise yet. But +I had not courage then to tell her the truth: I simply said I was in +trouble through false friends, and was ill--which was really the +case--and I asked her if she could shelter me for a day or two, or +could recommend me to a place where I might be private and to myself. +The result was, that I went to Mrs. Jones's house, introduced as a +stranger, one Godfrey Pitman. I hit upon the name haphazard. And +before I left it I was drawn into that business concerning Mr. +Ollivera." + +Bede Greatorex made no answer. A coincidence! one of heaven's sending. + +"Why so much ill-luck should have fallen upon me I cannot tell," +resumed George Winter. "I started in life, hoping and intending to do +my duty as conscientiously as most men do it; and I've tried to, +that's more. Fate has not been kind to me." + +"There are others that it has been less kind to," spoke Bede, his tone +marked with ill-suppressed agitation. "Your liabilities in Birmingham? +Are they wiped out?" + +"Others' liabilities you mean, sir; I had none of my own. Yes, I have +scraped, and saved, and paid; paid all. I am saving now to repay _you_ +the forty-four pounds, and have about twenty pounds towards it. But +for having my good old mother on my hands--she lives in Wales--I +should have been clear earlier." + +"You need not trouble yourself about the forty-four pounds," said +Bede, recognising the wondrous obligations he and his were under to +this silent, self-denying man. + +"If it were forty-four hundred, sir, I should work on until I paid it, +life being granted me." + +"Very well," replied Bede. "I may be able to recompense you in another +way." + +If Bede Greatorex thought that any simple order of his would release +Miss Rye from custody, he found himself mistaken. Butterby, called +into the conference, was almost pleasantly derisive. + +"You'll assure me she was not guilty! and Mr. Brown there can assure +me she was not guilty! And, following them words up, you say, 'Let her +go, Butterby!' Why, you might about as well tell me to let the stars +drop out of the sky, Mr. Bede Greatorex. I've no more power over one +than I have over the other." + +"But she is innocent," reiterated Bede. "Mr. Brown here--you know who +he is--can testify to it." + +Butterby gave a careless nod in the direction of Mr. Brown--as much as +to say that his knowing who he was went for a matter of course. But he +was sternly uncompromising. + +"Look here, Mr. Bede Greatorex. It's all very well for you to say to +me Miss Rye's innocent; and for that there clever gentleman by your +side to say she's innocent--and himself too, I suppose he'd like to +add; but you, as a lawyer, must know that all that is of no manner of +use. If you two will bring forward the right party, and say, 'This is +the one that was guilty,' and _prove_ it to the satisfaction of the +law and Mr. Greatorex, that would be another thing. Only in that case +can Miss Rye be set at liberty." + +"You--you do not know what family interests are involved in this, Mr. +Butterby," Bede said, in a tone of pain. + +"Can guess at 'em," responded Butterby. + +Bede inwardly thought the boast was a mistaken one, but he let it +pass. + +"If my father were acquainted with the true facts of the case," spoke +he, "he would never bring it to a public trial; I tell you this on my +honour." + +"You know yourself who the party was; I see that," said Butterby. + +"I do--Heaven spare me!" + +There was a strange tone of helplessness mingling with the anguish of +the avowal, as if Bede could contend with fate no longer. Even the +officer felt for him. George Winter looked round at him with a glance +of caution, as much as to say there was no necessity to avow too much. +Bede bent his head, and strove to see, as well as the hour's trouble +and perplexity would allow him, what might and what might not be done. +Butterby, responsible to the magistrates at Helstonleigh who had +granted the warrant, would have to be satisfied, as well as Mr. +Greatorex. + +Another minute, and Bede went forth to seek an interview with his +father, who was alone in his room. Bede, almost as though he were +afraid of his courage leaving him, entered upon the matter before he +had well closed the door. Not in any torrent of words: he spoke but a +few, and those with almost painful calmness: but his breath was +laboured, himself perceptibly agitated. + +"Give my authority to Butterby to release Alletha Rye from custody, +because you happen to know that she is innocent!" exclaimed Mr. +Greatorex in surprise. "Why, what can you mean, Bede?" + +Bede told his tale. Hampered by various doubting fears lest he might +drop an unsafe word, it was rather a lame one. Mr. Greatorex leaned +back in his chair, and looked up at Bede as he listened. They held, +unconsciously, much the same position as they had that March day +nearly five years ago in another room, when the tale of the death was +first told, Bede having then just got up with it from Helstonleigh Mr. +Greatorex sitting, Bede standing with his arm on the mantelpiece, his +face partly turned away. Bede had grown quite into the habit of +standing thus, to press his hand to his brow: it seemed as though some +weight or pain were always there. + +"I don't understand you, Bede," spoke Mr. Greatorex frankly. "You tell +me that you know of your own cognisance Alletha Rye was innocent? That +you knew it at the time?" + +"Almost of my own cognisance," corrected Bede. + +"Which must be equivalent to saying that you know who was guilty." + +"No; I don't know that," murmured Bede, his face growing damp with the +conscious lie. + +"Then what do you know, that you should wish to interfere? You have +always said it was a case of suicide." + +"It was not that, father," was Bede's low, shrinking answer. But he +looked into his father's eyes with thrilling earnestness as he gave +it. + +Mr. Greatorex began to feel slightly uncomfortable. He detested +mystery of all kinds; and there was something unpleasantly mysterious +in Bede's voice and looks and words and manner. + +"Did you know at the time that it was not suicide?" pursued Mr. +Greatorex. + +_How_ should Bede get through this? say what he must say, and yet not +say too much? He inwardly asked himself the question. + +"There was just a suspicion of it on my mind, sir. Anyway, Alletha Rye +must be set at liberty." + +"I do not understand what you say, Bede; I do not understand _you_. +Your manner on this subject has always been an enigma. William +Ollivera holds the opinion that you must be screening someone." + +A terrible temptation, hard to battle with, assailed Bede Greatorex at +the charge--to avow to his father who and what he had been screening +ever since the death. He forced himself to silence until it had +passed. + +"What is troubling you, Bede?" + +Mr. Greatorex might well ask it; with that sad countenance in front of +him, working with its pain. In his grievous perplexity, Bede gave the +true answer. + +"I was thinking if it were possible for Pitman's explanation to be +avoided, father." + +"What! Is Pitman found?" + +"Yes, he is found," quietly answered Bede. "He----" + +The room door was opening to admit some visitors, and Bede turned. +Surely the propitious star to the House of Greatorex could not be in +the ascendant. For they were Judge Kene and Henry William Ollivera. + +And the concealment that he had striven and toiled for, and worn out +his health and life to keep; fighting ever, mentally or bodily, +against Fate's relentless hand, was felt to be at an end by Bede +Greatorex. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. +NEARER AND NEARER. + + +On a sofa, drawn at right angles with the fire, lay Hamish Channing; +his bright head raised high, a crimson coverlid of eider down thrown +over his feet. In the last day or two he had grown perceptibly worse; +that is, weaker. The most sanguine amidst his friends, medical or +others, could not say there was hope now. But, as long as he could +keep up, Hamish would not give in to his illness: he rose in the +morning and made a pretence of going about the house; and when he was +tired, lay on the sofa that had been put into his writing-room. It +was the room he felt most at home in, and he seemed to cling to it. + +On the other side the hearth, bending forward in his chair, staring at +Hamish with sad eyes, and pulling at his whiskers in grievous gloom, +sat Roland Yorke. Roland had abandoned his home-copying for the past +two days, and spent all his spare time with Hamish. Mrs. Jones, +snatching a moment to go and visit Mr. Channing for old association's +sake, had been very much struck with what she saw in him, and carried +home the news that he was certainly dying. Roland, believing Mrs. J. +to be as correct in judgment as she was tart in speech, had been +looking out for death from that moment. Previously he was given to +waver; one moment in despair; the next, up in the skies with +exultation and thinking recovery had set in. The wind could not be +more variable than Roland. + +It was the twilight hour of the winter's day. The room was not lighted +yet, but the blaze from the fire played on Hamish's face as he lay. +There was a change in it tonight, and it told upon Roland: for it +looked like the shadow of death. Things seemed to have been rather at +sixes and sevens in the office that afternoon: Mr. Brown was absent, +Hurst had gone home for Christmas, Bede Greatorex did not show +himself, and there was nobody to tell Roland what work to be about. Of +course it presented to that gentleman's mind a most valuable +opportunity for enjoying a spell of recreation, and he took French +leave to abandon it to itself and little Jenner. Rushing home in the +first place, to see what might be doing there--for it was the day that +Miss Rye had been captured by Butterby. Roland had his run for his +pains. There was nothing doing, and his curiosity and good nature +alike suffered. Miss Rye was a prisoner still; she, and Mrs. Jones, +and the policeman left in charge, being shut up in the parlour +together. "It's an awful shame of old Butterby!" cried Roland to +himself, as he sped along to Hamish's. There he took up his station in +his favourite chair, and watched the face that was fading so rapidly +away. With an etherealized look in it that spoke of Heaven, with a +placid calm that seemed to partake of the fast approaching rest; with +a sweet smile that told of altogether inward peace, there the face +lay; and Roland thought he had never seen one on earth so like an +angel's. + +Hamish had dropped into a doze; as he often did, at the close of day, +when darkness is silently spreading over the light. Nelly Channing, +who had learnt--by that subtle warning that sometimes steals, we +know not how, over the instinct of little ones about to be made +orphans--that some great and sad change was looming in the air, sat on +a stool on the hearthrug as sedately as any old woman. Nelly's +boisterous ways and gleeful laugh had left her for awhile: example +perhaps taught her to be still, and she largely profited by it. + +On her lap lay a story book: papa had bought it for her yesterday that +is, had given the money to Miss Nelly and nurse when they went out, +and wrote down the title of the book they were to buy, and the shop +they might get it at, with his own trembling fingers, out of which the +strength had nearly gone. It was one of those exquisite story books +that ought to be in all children's hands, Mrs. Sherwood's; belonging +of course to a past day, but nothing has since been written like them. + +With every leaf that she silently turned, Nelly looked to see that it +did not wake the invalid. When she grew tired, and her face was +roasted to a red heat, she went to Roland, resting the open book upon +his knee. He lifted her up. + +"It is such a pretty book, Roland." + +"All right. Don't you make a noise, Nelly." + +"Margaret went to heaven in the book: she was buried under the great +yew tree," whispered Kelly. "Papa's going there." + +Roland caught the little head to him, and bent his face on the golden +hair. He knew that what she said was true: but it was a shock +nevertheless to have it repeated openly to him even by this young +child. + +"Papa talks to me about it. It will be so beautiful; he will never be +tired there, or have any sorrow or pain. Oh, Roland; I wish I was +going with him!" + +Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked up; Roland's were filled +in sympathy. He had cried like a schoolboy more than once of late. All +on a sudden, happening to glance across, he saw Hamish looking on with +a smile. + +"You be off, Nelly," said arbitrary Roland, carrying her to the door +and shutting it upon her and her book. "I'm sure your tea must be +ready in the nursery." + +"Don't grieve, Roland," said Hamish, when he sat down again. + +"I wish you could get well," returned Roland, seeing the fire through +a mist. + +"And I have nearly ceased to wish it, Roland. It's all for the best." + +"Ceased to wish it! How's that?" + +"Through God's mercy, I think." + +The words silenced Roland. When anything of this kind was mentioned it +turned him into a child, so far as his feelings went; simple as Miss +Nelly, was he, and a vast deal more humble-minded. + +"Things are being cleared for me so wonderfully, Roland. But for +leaving some who are dear to me, the pain would be over." + +"I wish I could come across that fiend who wrote the reviews!" was +Roland's muttered answer to this. "I _wish_ I could!" + +"What?" said Hamish, not catching the words. + +"I _will_ say it, then; I don't care," cried impetuous Roland--for no +one had ever spoken before Hamish of what was supposed to have caused +him the cruel pain. Roland blurted it all out now in his explosive +fashion; his own long-suppressed wrath, and what he held in store for +the anonymous reviewer, when he should have the good fortune to come +across him. + +A minute's silence when he ceased, a wild hectic spreading itself into +the hollow cheeks--that it should so stir him even yet! Hamish held +out his hand, and Roland came across to take it. The good sweet eyes +looked into his. + +"If ever you do 'come across' him, Roland, say that I forgive," came +the low, earnest whisper. "I did think it cruel at the time; well nigh +too hard to bear; but, like most other crosses, I seem to see now that +it came to me direct from heaven." + +"That _is_ good, Hamish! Come!" + +"We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom," whispered +Hamish, looking up at him with a yearning smile. "You have in all +probability a long life before you, Roland: but the time may come when +you will realize the truth of those words." + +Roland swallowed down a lump in his throat as he turned to the fire +again. Hamish resumed, changing his tone for one almost of gaiety. + +"I have had good news today. Our friend the publisher called; and what +do you think he told me, Roland? That my book was finding its way at +last." + +"Of course it will. Everybody always thought it must. If you could but +have put off for a time your bother over the reviews, Hamish!" Roland +added piteously. + +"Ay. He says that in three months' time from this, the book will be in +every one's hands. In the satisfaction of the news, I sat down and ate +some luncheon with him and Ellen." + +"Don't you think the news might be enough to cure you?" asked sanguine +Roland. + +Hamish shook his head. "If I were able to feel joy now as I felt the +sorrow, it might perhaps go a little way towards it. But that is over, +Roland. The capability of feeling either in any degree was crushed out +of me." + +Roland rubbed up his hair. If he had but that enemy of his under his +hand, and a spacious arena that admitted of pitching-in! + +"And now for some more good news, Roland. You must know how I have +been troubled at the thought of leaving Ellen and the child unprovided +for--" + +"I say, _don't_ you! Don't you trouble, Hamish," came the impulsive +interruption. "I'll work for them. I'll do my very best for them, as +well as for Annabel." + +"It won't be needed, dear old friend," and Hamish's face, with its +bright, grateful smile, almost looked like the sunny one of old. +"Ellen's father, Mr. Huntley, is regaining the wealth he feared he had +lost. As an earnest of it, he has sent Ellen two hundred pounds. It +was paid her today." + +"Oh, now, isn't that good, Hamish!" + +"Very good!" answered Hamish, reverently and softly, as certain words +ran through his mind: "So great is His mercy towards them that trust +in Him." + +"And so, Roland, all things are working round pleasantly that I may +die in peace." + +Mrs. Channing, coming in with her things on, for she had been out on +some necessary business, interrupted the conversation. She mentioned +to Roland that she had seen Gerald drive up to his wife's rooms, and +that he had promised to come round. + +"Why I thought he was at Sunny Mead with Dick!" + +"He told me he had just returned from it," said Mrs. Channing. + +"I say, Hamish, who knows but he may have brought me up a message!" +cried Roland. + +Hamish smiled. Roland had disclosed the fact in family conclave, of +his having applied for the place of bailiff to Sir Vincent; Annabel +being present. He had recited, so far as he could remember them, the +very words of the letter, over which Hamish had laughed himself into a +coughing-fit. + +"To be sure," answered Hamish, with a touch of his old jesting spirit. +"Gerald may have brought up your appointment, Roland." + +That was quite enough. "I'll go and ask him," said Roland eagerly. +"Anyway he may be able to tell me how Dick received it." + +Away went Roland, on the spur of the moment. It was a clear, cold +evening, the air sharp and frosty; and Roland ran all the way to Mrs. +Gerald Yorke's. + +That lady was not in tears this evening; but her mood was a gloomy +one, her face fractious. The tea was on the table, and she was cutting +thick bread-and-butter for the three little girls sitting so quietly +round it, before their cups of milk-and-water. Gerald had gone out +again; she did not know where, whether temporarily, or to his chambers +for the night, or anything about him. + +"I think something must have gone wrong at Sunny Mead," observed +Winny. "When I asked what brought him back so soon, he only swore. +Perhaps Sir Vincent refused to lend money, and they had a quarrel. I +know Gerald meant to ask him: he is in dreadful embarrassment." + +"Mamma," pleaded a little voice, "there's no butter on my bread." + +"There's as much as I can afford to put, Kitty," was Mrs. Yorke's +answer. "I must keep some for the morning. Suppose your papa should +find no butter for breakfast, if he comes home to sleep tonight! My +goodness!" + +"Bread and scrape's not good, is it, Kitty?" said Roland. "No," +plaintively answered the child. + +Roland clattered out, taking the stairs at a leap. Mrs. Yorke supposed +he had left without the ceremony of saying goodnight. + +"Just like his manners!" she fractiously cried. "But oh! don't I wish +Gerald was like him in temper!" + +Roland had not gone for the night. He happened to have a shilling in +his pocket, and went to buy a sixpenny pot of marmalade. As he was +skimming back with it, his eye fell on some small shrimps, exposed for +sale on a fishmonger's board. The temptation (with the loose sixpence +in his hand) was not to be resisted. + +He carried in the treasures. But that the three little ones were very +meek spirited, they would have shouted at the sight. Roland lavishly +spread the marmalade on the bread-and-scrape, and began pulling out +shrimps for the company round, while he talked of Hamish. + +"They are saying that those reviews that were so harsh upon his books +have helped to kill him," said Mrs. Yorke, in a low tone, turning from +the table to face Roland. + +"But for those reviews he'd not have died," answered Roland. "I never +will believe it. Illness might have come on, but he'd have had the +spirit to throw it off again." + +"Yes. When I sit and look at him, Roland, it seems as if I and Gerald +were wretches that ought to hide ourselves. I say to myself, it was +not my fault; but I _feel_ it for all that." + +"Why, what do you mean?" asked Roland. + +"About the reviews. I can't bear to go there now." + +"What about the reviews?" + +"It was Gerald who wrote them." + +Roland, for convenience sake, had the plate of shrimps on his knee +during the picking process. He rested from his work and stared in a +kind of puzzle. Winny continued. + +"Those reviews were all Gerald's doings. That dreadful one in the +_Snarler_ he wrote himself; here, and was two days over it, getting to +it at times as ideas and strong words occurred to him to make it worse +and worse--just as he wrote the one of praise on his own book. The +other reviews, that were every bit as bad, he got written. I read +every word of the one in the _Snarler_ in manuscript. I wanted to tell +him it was wicked, but he might have shaken me. He said he owed Hamish +Channing a grudge, and should get his book damned. That's not my word, +you know, Roland. And, all the while, it was Hamish who was doing so +much for me and the poor children; finding us in food when Gerald did +not." + +No whiter could Hamish Channing's face look when the marble paleness +of death should have overshadowed it, than Roland's was now. For a +short while it seemed as though the communication were too astounding +to find admittance to his mind. Suddenly he rose up with a great cry. +Down went shrimps, and plate, and all; and he was standing upright +before Mrs. Yorke. + +"Is it true? Is it _true?_" + +"Why of course it's true," she fractiously answered, for the movement +had startled her. "Gerald did it all. I'd not tell anybody but you, +Roland." + +Throwing his hat on his head, hind part before, away dashed Roland. +Panting, wild, his breath escaping him in great sobs, like unto one +who has received some strong mental shock, he arrived at Mr. +Channing's in a frantic state. Vague ideas of praying at Hamish's feet +for forgiveness were surging through his brain--for it seemed to +Roland that _he_, as Gerald's brother, must be in a degree responsible +for this terrible thing. + +The door opened, he turned into the dining-room, and found himself in +the presence of--Gerald. Hamish, feeling unusually weak, had gone up +to bed, and Gerald was waiting the signal to go to him. As he supposed +he must call to see Hamish before it should be too late--for Ellen had +told him how it was, that afternoon--he had come at once to get the +visit over. + +Of all the torrents of reproach ever flung at a man, Gerald found +himself astounded by about the worst. It was not loud; loudness might +have carried off somewhat of the sting; but painfully sad and bitter. +Roland stood on the hearthrug in front of Gerald as he had but now +stood before Gerald's wife; with the same white and stricken face; +with the same agitation shaking him from head to foot. The sobbing +words broke from him in jerks: the voice was a wail. + +"Was it not enough that I brought disgrace on Arthur Channing in the +years gone by, but you, another of us ill-doing Yorkes, must destroy +Hamish?" panted Roland. "Good Lord! why did heaven suffer us two to +live! As true as we are standing together here, Gerald, had I known at +the time those false reviews were yours, I should have broken your +bones for you." + +"You shut up," retorted Gerald. "It's nothing to you." + +"Nothing to me! Nothing to _me_--when one of the best men that ever +lived on earth has been wilfully sent to his grave? Yes; I don't care +how you may salve over your conscience, Gerald Yorke; it is murder, +and nothing less. What had he done to you? He was a true friend, a +true, good friend to you and to me: what crime against us had he +committed, that you should treat him like this?" + +"If you don't go out of the house, I will," said Gerald. But Roland +never seemed to so much as hear it. + +"Who do you suppose has been helping you all this year?" demanded +Roland. "When you were afraid of the county-court over a boot bill, +somebody paid the money and sent you the receipt anonymously: who has +kept your wife and children in rent and clothes and food, and all +kinds of comforts, while you gave wine parties in your chambers, and +went starring it over the seas for weeks in people's yachts? Hamish +Channing. He deprived himself of his holiday, that your wife and +children might be fed, you abandoning them: he has lived sparingly in +spite of his failing health, that you and yours might profit. You and +he were brought up in the same place, boys together, and he could not +see your children want. They've never had a fraction of help but what +it came from Hamish and his wife." + +"It is a lie," said Gerald. But he was staggered, and he half felt +that it was not. + +"It is the truth, as heaven knows," cried Roland, breaking down with a +burst. "Ask Winny, _she_ told me. I'd have given my own poor worthless +life freely, to save the pain of those false and cruel reviews to +Hamish." + +Sheer emotion stopped Roland's tongue. Mrs. Channing, entering, found +the room in silence; the storm was over. Roland escaped. Gerald, +amazingly uncomfortable, had a mind to run away there and then. + +"Will you come up, Gerald?" she said. + +Hamish lay in bed in his large cheerful chamber, bright with fire and +light. His head was raised; one hand was thrown over the white +coverlid; and a cup of tea waited on a stand by the bed-side. Roland +stood by the fire, his chest heaving. + +"But what is it, old fellow?" demanded Hamish. "What has put you out?" + +"It is _this_, Hamish--that I wish I could have died instead of you," +came the answer at last, with a burst of grief. + +He sat down in the shade in a quiet corner, for his brother's step was +heard. As Gerald approached the bed, he visibly recoiled. It was some +time since he had seen Hamish, and he verily believed he stood in the +presence of death. Hamish held out his hand with a cheering smile, and +his face grew bright. + +"Dear old friend! I thought you were never coming to see me." + +Gerald Yorke was not wholly bad, not quite devoid of feeling. With the +dying man before him, with the truths he had just heard beating their +refrain in his ears, he nearly broke down as Roland had done. Oh, that +he could undo his work! that he could recall life to the fading spirit +as easily as he had done his best to take it away! These regrets +always come rather late, Mr. Gerald Yorke. + +"I did not think you were so ill as this, Hamish. Can nothing be +done?" + +"Don't let it grieve you, Gerald. Our turns must all come, sooner or +later. Don't, old fellow," he added in a whisper. "I must keep up for +Ellen's sake. God is helping me to do it: oh, so wonderfully." + +Gerald bent over him: he thought they were alone. "Will you forgive +me?" + +"Forgive you!" repeated Hamish, not understanding what there was to +forgive. + +And Gerald, striving against his miserably pricking conscience, could +not bring himself to say. No, though it had been to save his own life, +he dared not confess to his cowardly sin. + +"I have not always been the good friend to you I might, Hamish. Do say +you forgive me, for Heaven's sake!" + +Hamish took his hand, a sweet smile upon his face. "If there is an +anything you want my forgiveness for, Gerald, take it. Take it freely. +Oh, Gerald, when we begin to realize the great fact that our sins are +forgiven, forgiven and washed out, you cannot think how _glad_ we are +to forgive others who may have offended us. But I don't know what I +have to forgive in you." + +Gerald's chest heaved. Roland's, in his distant chair in the shade, +heaved rebelliously. + +"I had ambitious views for you, Gerald. I meant to do you good, if I +could. I thought when my book was out and brought funds to me, I would +put you straight. I was so foolishly sanguine as to fancy the returns +would be large. I thought of you nearly as much as I thought of +myself: one of my dear old friends of dear old Helstonleigh. The world +is fading from me, Gerald; but the old scenes and times will be with +me to the last. Yes, I had hoped to benefit you, Gerald, but it was +otherwise ordained. God bless you, dear friend. God love and prosper +you, and bring you home to Him!" + +Gerald could not stand it any longer. As he left the room and the +house, Roland went up to the bed with a burst, and confessed all. To +have kept in the secret would have choked him. + +Gerald was the enemy who had done it all; Gerald Yorke had been the +one to sow the tares amid wheat in his neighbour's field. + +A moment of exquisite pain for Hamish; a slight, short struggle with +the human passions, not yet quite dead within his aching breast; and +then his loving-kindness resumed its sway, never again to quit him. + +"Bring him back to me, dear Roland; bring him back that I may send him +on his way with words of better comfort," he whispered, with his +ineffable smile of peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. +GODFREY PITMAN'S TALE. + + +Shut in with closed doors, George Winter told his tale. Not quite all +he could tell; and not the truth in one very important particular. If +that single item of fact might be kept secret to the end, the +speaker's will was good for it. + +They were all standing. Not one sat. And the room seemed filled with +the six men in it, most of whom were tall. The crimson curtain, that +Annabel Channing had mended, was drawn before the bookcase: on the +table-cover lay pens and ink and paper, for Mr. Greatorex sometimes +wrote at night in his own room. He and Judge Kene were near each +other; the clergyman was almost within the shadow of the window +curtain; Bede a little farther behind. On the opposite side of the +table, telling his tale, with the light of the bright winter's day +falling full upon him, illumining every turn of his face, and, so to +say, every word he uttered, was George Winter. And, at right angles +with the whole assemblage, his keen eyes and ears taking in every word +and look in silence, stood the detective, Jonas Butterby. + +Mr. Greatorex, in spite of his son Bede's protestations, had refused +to sanction any steps for the release of Alletha Rye from custody. As +for Butterby, in that matter he seemed more inexorably hard than a +granite stone. "Show us that the young woman is innocent before you +talk about it," said they both with reason. And so George Winter was +had in to relate what he knew; and Mr. Greatorex--not to speak of some +of the rest--felt that his senses were temporarily struck out of him +when he discovered that his efficient and trusted clerk, Brown, was +the long-sought after and ill-reputed Godfrey Pitman. + +With a brief summary of the circumstances which had led him, +disguised, and under the false name of Pitman, to Mrs. Jones's house +at Helstonleigh, George Winter passed on to the night of the tragedy, +and to the events which had taken him back to the house after his +departure from it in the afternoon. If ever Mr. Butterby's silent eyes +wore an eager light, it was then; not the faintest turn of a look, not +the smallest syllable was lost upon him. + +"When I had been a week at Mrs. Jones's, I began to think it might be +unsafe to remain longer," he said; "and I resolved to take my +departure on the Monday. I let it transpire in the house that I was +going to Birmingham by the five o'clock train. This was to put people +off the scent, for I did not mean to go by that train at all, but by a +later one in an opposite direction--in fact, by the eight o'clock +train for Oxford: and I had thought to wait about, near the station, +until that hour. At half-past four I said good day to Mrs. Jones, and +went out: but I had not gone many yards from the door, when I saw one +of the Birmingham police, who knew me personally. I had my disguises +on, the spectacles and the false hair, but I feared he might recognize +me in spite of them. I turned my back for some minutes, apparently +looking into a shop window, and when the officer had disappeared, +stole back to Mrs. Jones's again. The door was open, and I went +upstairs without being seen, intending to wait until dusk." + +"A moment if you please," interrupted Mr. Greatorex. "It would seem +that this was about the time that Mr. Ollivera returned to Mrs. +Jones's. Did you see him?" + +"I did not, sir; I saw no one." + +"Go on." + +"I waited in my room at the top of the house, and when night set in, +began to watch for an opportunity of getting away unseen by the +household, and so avoid questionings as to what had brought me back. +It seemed not too easy of accomplishment: the servant girl was at the +street door, and Alfred Jones (as I had learnt his name to be) came in +and began to ascend the stairs. When half-way up, he turned back with +some gentleman who came out of the drawing-room--whom I know now, but +did not then, to be Mr. Bede Greatorex. Alfred Jones saw him to the +front door, and then ran up again. I escaped to my room, and locked +myself in. He went to his own, and soon I heard him go down and quit +the house. In a few minutes I went out of my room again with my blue +bag, ready for departure, and stood on the stairs to reconnoitre----" + +"Can you explain the cause of those grease spots that we have heard +of?" interrupted Bede Greatorex at this juncture. And it might almost +have seemed from the fluttering emotion of his tone, which could not +be wholly suppressed, that he dreaded the revelation he knew must be +coming, and put the question only to delay it. + +"Yes, sir. While Alfred Jones was in his room, I dropped my silver +pencil-case, and had to light a candle to seek it. I suppose that, in +searching, I must have held the candle aside and let the drops of +tallow fall on the carpet." + +"Go on," again interposed Mr. Greatorex, impatiently. "You went out on +the stairs with your bag. What next?" + +The witness--if he may be termed such--passed his hand slowly over his +forehead before answering. It appeared as though he were recalling the +past. + +"As I stood there, on the top of the first flight, the sound of voices +in what seemed like angry dispute, came from the drawing-room. One in +particular was raised in passionate fury; the other was less loud. I +did not hear what was said; the door was shut----" + +"Were they both men's voices?" interrupted Mr. Ollivera--and it was +the first question he had put. + +"Yes," came the answer; but it was given in a low tone, and with +somewhat of hesitation. "At least, I think so." + +"Well." + +"The next thing that I heard was the report of a pistol, followed by a +cry of pain. Another cry succeeded to it in a different voice, a cry +of horror; and then silence supervened." + +"And you did not go in?" exclaimed Mr. Ollivera in agitation, taking a +step forward. + +"No. I am aware it is what I ought to have done; and I have reproached +myself later for not having done it; but I felt afraid to disclose to +any one that I was yet in the house. It might have led to the +discovery of who and what I was. Besides, I thought there was no great +harm done; I declare it, upon my honour. I could still hear sounds +within the room as of someone, or more, moving about, and I certainly +heard one voice speaking low and softly. I thought I saw my +opportunity for slipping away, and had crept down nearly to the +drawing-room door, when it suddenly opened, very quietly, and a face +looked out. Whoever it might be, I suppose the sight of me scared +them, for they retreated, and the door was reclosed softly. It scared +me also, sending me back upstairs; and I remained up until the same +person (as I supposed) came out again, descended the stairs, and left +the house. I got out myself then, gained the railway station by a +circuitous route, and got safely away from Helstonleigh." + +As the words died upon the ear, there ensued a pause of silence. The +clergyman broke it. His mind seemed to be harping on one string. + +"Mr. Brown, was that person a man or a woman?" + +"Oh, it was a man," answered Mr. Brown, looking down at his waistcoat, +and brushing a speck off it with an air of carelessness. But something +in his demeanour at that moment struck two people in the room as being +peculiar--Judge Kene and Mr. Butterby. + +"Should you recognize him again?" continued the clergyman. + +"I cannot say. Perhaps I might." + +"And you can stand there, Mr. Brown and deliberately avow that you did +not know a murder had been committed?" interposed the sternly +condemning voice of Mr. Greatorex. + +"On my sacred word of honour, I declare to you, sir, that no suspicion +of it at the time occurred to me," answered the clerk, turning his +eyes with fearless honesty on Mr. Greatorex. "When I got to learn what +had really happened--which was not for some weeks--I wondered at +myself. All I could suppose was, that the fear and apprehension I lay +under on my own score, had rendered me callous to other impressions." + +"Was it _you_ who went in, close upon the departing heels of Mr. Bede +Greatorex, and did this cruel thing?" asked Judge Kene, with quiet +emphasis, as he gazed in the face of the narrator. + +"No," as quietly, and certainly as calmly, came the answer. "I had no +cause to injure Mr. Ollivera. I never saw him in my life. I am not +sure that I knew there was a barrister of the name. I don't think I +ever heard of him until after he was in the grave where he is now +lying." + +"But--you must have known that Mr. Ollivera was sojourning in Mrs. +Jones's house at the same time that you were? + +"I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas; I did not know that anyone was lodging +there except myself. Miss Rye, whom I saw for a few minutes +occasionally, never mentioned it, neither did the servant, and they +were the only two inmates I conversed with. For all I knew, or +thought, Mrs. Jones occupied the drawing-room herself. I once saw her +sitting there, and the maid was carrying out the tea-tray. No," +emphatically concluded the speaker, "I did not know Mr. Ollivera was +in the house: and if I had known it, I should not have sought to harm +him." + +The words were simple enough; and they were true. Judge Kene, skilled +in reading tones and looks, saw that much. The party felt at a +non-plus: as far as Alletha Rye went, the taking her into custody +appeared to have been a mistake. + +"You will swear to this testimony of yours, Mr.--Winter?" + +"When you please. The slight amount of facts--the sounds--that reached +me in regard to what took place in Mr. Ollivera's room, I have related +truthfully. Far from Miss Rye's having had aught to do with it, she +was not even in the house at the time: I affirm it as before heaven." + +"Who was the man?" asked Judge Kene--and Mr. Butterby, as he heard the +question, gave a kind of derisive sniff. "Come; tell us that, Mr. +Winter." + +"I cannot tell you," was George Winter's answer. "Whoever it was he +went down the stairs quickly. I was looking over top balustrades then, +and caught but a transient glimpse of him." + +"But you saw his face beforehand?--when he looked out of the room?" + +"I saw someone's face. Only for a minute. Had I known what was to come +of it later, I might have noticed better." + +"And this is _all_ you have to tell us?" cried Henry William Ollivera +in agitation. + +"Indeed it is all. But it is sufficient to exonerate Miss Rye." + +"And now, Bede, what do _you_ know?" suddenly spoke Mr. Greatorex. +"You have acknowledged to me that you suspected at the time it was not +a case of suicide." + +Bede Greatorex came forward. All eyes were turned upon him. That he +was nerving himself to speak, and far more inwardly agitated than +appeared on the surface, the two practised observers saw. Judge Kene +looked at him critically and curiously: there was something in the +case altogether, and in Bede himself, that puzzled him. + +"It is not much that I have to tell," began Bede, in answer to his +father, as he put his hand heavily on the table, it might be for a +support to rest on: and his brow seemed to take a pallid hue, and the +silver threads in his once beautiful hair were very conspicuous as he +stood. "A circumstance caused me to suspect that it was not a case of +suicide. In fact, that it was somewhat as Mr. Brown has described it +to be--namely, that someone else caused the death." + +A pause of perfect silence, It seemed to Bede that the very coals, +cracking in the grate, sounded like thunder. + +"What was the circumstance?" asked Mr. Greatorex, for no one else +liked to interrupt. "Why did you not speak of it at the time?" + +"I could not speak of it then: I cannot speak of it fully now. It was +of a nature so--so--so----." Bede came to a full stop: was he getting +too agitated to speak, or could he not find a word? "What I would say +is," he continued, in a firm low tone, rallying his nerves, "that it +was sufficient to show me the facts must have been very much as Mr. +Brown now states them." + +"Then you only _think_ that, Bede?" + +"It is more than thinking. By all my hopes of Heaven, declare that +Alletha Rye had not, and could not have had, anything to do with +John's death," he added with emotion. "Father, you may believe me: I +do know so much." + +"But why can you not disclose what it is you know?" + +"Because the time has not come for it. William, you are looking +at me with reproachful eyes: if I could tell you more I would. The +secret--so much as I know of it--has lain on me with a leaden weight: +I would only have been too glad to disburthen myself of it at first, +had it been possible." + +"And what rendered it impossible?" questioned the clergyman. + +"That which renders it so now. I may not speak; if I might, I should +be far more thankful than any of you who hear me." + +"Is it a secret of trust reposed in you?" + +Bede paused. "Well, yes; in a degree. If I were to speak of what I +know, I do not think there is one present"--and Bede's glance ran +rapidly over each individual face--"but would hush it within his own +breast, as I have done." + +"And you have a suspicion of who the traitor was?" + +"A suspicion I may have. But for aught else--for elucidation--you and +I must be content alike to wait." + +"Elucidation!" spoke the clergyman in something like derision. "It +will not, I presume, ever be allowed to come." + +"Yes, it will, William," answered Bede, quietly. +"Time--events--heaven--all are working rapidly on for it. Alletha Rye +is innocent; I could not affirm that truth to you more solemnly if I +were dying. She must be set at liberty." + +As it was only on the question of her guilt or innocence that the +council had been called, it seemed that there was nothing more to do +than to break it up. An uncomfortable sensation of doubt, +dissatisfaction, and mystery, lay on all. The clergyman stalked away +in haughty displeasure. Bede Greatorex, under cover of the crowd, slid +his hand gratefully for a moment into that of George Winter, his sad +eyes sending forth their thanks. Then he turned to the Judge. + +"You can give the necessary authority for the release, Sir Thomas." + +"Can I?" was the answer, as Sir Thomas looked at him. "I'll talk about +it with Butterby. But I should like to have a private word first with +Mr. Winter." + +"Why! you do not doubt that she is innocent?" + +"Oh dear no; I no longer doubt that. Winter," he added in a whisper, +laying his hand on the clerk's shoulder to draw him outside, "_whose +face was it that you saw at the door of the room?_" + +"Tell him," said Bede suddenly, for he had followed them. "You will +keep the secret, Kene, as I have kept it?" + +"If it be as I suspect, I _will_," emphatically replied the Judge. + +"Tell him," repeated Bede, as he walked away. "Tell him all that you +know, Winter, from first to last." + +It caused Mr. Greatorex and Butterby to be left alone together. The +former, not much more pleased than William Ollivera, utterly puzzled, +hurt at the want of confidence displayed by Bede in not trusting him, +was in a downright ill-temper. + +"What the devil is all this, Butterby?" demanded he. "What does it +mean?" + +Mr. Butterby, cool as a cucumber, let his eyelashes close for a moment +over his non-betraying eyes, and then answered in meek simplicity. + +"Ah, that's just it, sir--what it means. Wait, says your son Mr. Bede; +wait patiently till things has worked round a bit, till such time as I +can speak out. And depend upon it, Mr. Greatorex, he has good cause to +give the advice." + +"But what can it be that he has to tell? And why should he wait at all +to tell it?" + +"Well, I suppose he'd like to be more certain of the party," answered +Butterby, with a dubious cough. "Take a word of advice from me too, +Mr. Greatorex, on this here score, if I may make bold to offer +it--_do_ wait. Don't force your son to disclose things afore they are +ripe. It might be better for all parties." + +Mr. Greatorex looked at him. "Who is it that _you_ suspect?" + +"Me!" exclaimed Butterby. "Me suspect! Why, what with one odd thought +or another, I'd as lieve say it must have been the man in the moon, +for all the clue we've got. It was not Miss Rye: there can't be two +opinions about that. I told you, sir, I had my strong doubts when you +ordered her to be apprehended." + +"At any rate, you said she confessed to having done it," sharply spoke +Mr. Greatorex, vexed with everybody. + +"Confound the foolish women! what would the best of 'em not confess +to, to screen a sweetheart? Alletha Rye has been thinking Winter +guilty all this while, and when it came to close quarters and there +seemed a fear that he'd be taken up for it, she said what she did to +save him. _I_ see it all. I saw it afore Godfrey Pitman was half way +through his tale: and matters that have staggered me in Miss Rye, are +just as clear to read now as the printing in a big book. When she made +that there display at the grave--which you've heard enough of, may be, +Mr. Greatorex--she had not had her doubts turned on Godfrey Pitman; +she'd thought he was safe away earlier in the afternoon: when she got +to learn he had come back again in secret, and was in the house at the +time, why then she jumped to the conclusion that he had done the +murder. _I_ remember." + +Mr. Butterby was right. This was exactly how it had been. Alletha Rye +had deemed George Winter guilty all along; on his side, he had only +supposed she shunned him on account of the affair at Birmingham. There +had been mutual misunderstanding; tacit, shrinking avoidance of all +explanation; and not a single word of confidence to clear it all up. +George Winter could not seek to be too explicit so long as the secret +he was guarding had to be kept: if not for his own sake, for that of +others, he was silent. + +"As to what Bede's driving at, and who he suspects, I am in +ignorance," resumed Mr. Greatorex. "I am not pleased with his conduct: +he ought to let me know what he knows." + +"Now, don't you blame him afore you hear his reasons, sir. He's sure +to have 'em: and I say let him alone till he can take his own time for +disclosing things." Which won't be of one while, was the detective's +mental conclusion. + +"About Miss Rye? Are you here, Butterby?" + +The interruption came from Judge Kene. As he walked in, closing the +door after him, they could but be struck with the aspect of his face. +It was all over of a grey pallor; very much as though its owner had +received some shock of terror. "What is the matter, Judge?" hastily +asked Mr. Greatorex. "Are you ill?" + +"Ill? No. Why do you ask? Look so!--Oh, I have been standing in a room +without fire and grew rather cold there," carelessly replied the +Judge. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. +A TELEGRAM FOR ROLAND YORKE. + + +Lounging quite back in the old elbow horsehair chair, his feet +stretched out on the hob on either side the fire, which elegant +position he had possibly learnt at Port Natal, sat Mr. Roland Yorke. +He had just come home to his five o'clock tea, and took the occasion +to indulge in sundry reminiscences while waiting for it to be brought +to him. Christmas had passed, these two or three days now; the brief +holiday was over, and working days were going on again. + +Roland's mood was a subdued one. All things seemed to be, more or +less, tinted with gloom. Hamish Channing was dying; a summons had been +sent for his friends; the last hour could not now be very far off: and +Roland felt it deeply. The ill, worked by his brother Gerald, seemed +never to go out of his mind for a moment, sleeping or waking. Vexation +of a different kind was also his. Day after day in his sanguine +temperament he had looked for a letter from Sir Vincent Yorke, +appointing him to the post of bailiff; and no such letter came. +Roland, who had heard nothing of the slight accident caused by Gerald +(you may be very sure Gerald would not be the one to speak of it), +supposed the baronet was in Paris with Miss Trehern. A third source of +discomfort lay in the office. Bede Greatorex, whose health since the +past few days had signally failed, avowed himself at last unequal to +work, and an extra amount of it fell upon his clerks. Roland thought +it a sin and a shame that before Christmas Day had well turned, he +should have, as he phrased it, to "stick to it like any dray-horse." A +rumour had arisen in the office that Bede Greatorex was going away +with his wife for change and restoration, and that Mr. Brown was to be +head of the department in Bede's place. Roland did not regard the +prospect with pleasure: Mr. Brown being a regular martinet in regard +to keeping the clerks to their duty. + +The grievance that lay uppermost on his mind this evening, was the +silence of Sir Vincent. For Hamish he had grieved until it seemed that +he could grieve no longer; the rumoured change in the office might +never be carried out but on the score of Sir Vincent's neglect there +was no palliation. + +"I'd not treat _him_, so," grumbled Roland, his complaint striving to +find relief in words. "Even if the place was gone when I applied, or +he thought I'd not suit, he might write to me. It's all very fine for +him kicking up his heels in Paris, and dining magnificently in the +restaurants off partridges and champagne, and forgetting a fellow as +he forgets me; but if his whole hopes in life lay on the die, he'd +remember, I know. If I knew his address over there, I'd drop him +another letter and tell him to put me out of suspense. For all the +answer that has come to me, one might think he had never had that +first letter of mine. He has had it though, and it's a regular shame +of him not to acknowledge it, when my heart was set on being able to +carry Hamish the cheering news, before he died, that Annabel was +provided for. If Dick would only give us a pretty little cottage down +yonder and a couple of hundreds a-year! It wouldn't be much for Dick +to give, and I'd serve him bravely day and night. I declare I go into +Hamish's room as sheep-faced as a calf, with the shame of having no +news to tell. Annabel says----Oh, it's you, Miss Rye, is it! Precious +cold tonight!" + +Miss Rye had come in with the small tea-tray: the servant was busy. +She wore a knot of blue ribbon in her hair, and looked otherwise +bright. Since a private interview held with Mr. Butterby and George +Winter, when they returned to release her from custody, she had +appeared like a different woman. Her whole aspect was changed: the +sad, despairing fear on her face had given place to a look of rest and +hope. Roland had taken occasion to give Mr. Butterby a taste of what +that gentleman called "sauce," as to his incurable propensity for +apprehending the wrong person, and was advised in return to mind his +own business. While Mrs. Jones had been existing since in a chronic +state of tartness; for she could not come to the bottom of things, and +Alletha betrayed anything but a readiness to enlighten her. + +"What's for tea?" asked Roland, lazily, turning his head to get a view +of the tray. + +"They have boiled you an egg," replied Miss Rye. "There was nothing +else in the house. Have you seen your letter, Mr. Yorke?" + +"A letter!" exclaimed Roland, starting up with so much alacrity +as to throw down the chair, for his hopes suddenly turned to the +vainly-expected communication from Sir Vincent. "Where is it? When did +it come? Good old Dick!" + +It had come just as he went out after dinner, she answered, as she +took the letter--which bore a foreign post-mark--from the mantelpiece +to hand to him. And eager Roland's spirits went down to zero as he +tore it open, for he recognized the writing to be, not Dick Yorke's, +but Lord Carrick's. + +"Oh, come though, it's rather good," said he, running his eyes down +the plain and sprawling hand--very much like his own. "Carrick has +come out of his troubles; at least, enough of them to show himself by +daylight again in the old country; he will be over in London directly. +I say, Miss Rye, I'll bring him here, and introduce him to you and +Mrs. J." + +And Miss Rye laughed as she left the room more freely than she had +laughed for many a day. + +"Perhaps Carrick can put me into something!" self-communed Roland, +cutting off the top of his egg, and taking in a half-slice of +inch-thick bread-and-butter at a bite. "I know he'll not want the will +when I tell him about Annabel." + +The last morsel was eaten, and Roland was on the point of demanding +more, for his appetite never failed, when he heard someone come to the +house and inquire for Mr. Yorke. Visions of the arrival of Lord +Carrick flashed over him; he made a dash to the passage, and very +nearly threw down a meek little gentleman, who was being shown into +his room. + +"Holloa!" said Roland, the corners of his mouth dropping with +disappointment. "Is it only you?" + +For the visitor was nobody but little Jenner. He had brought a +communication from Mr. Greatorex, and took off his hat while he +delivered it. + +"You are to go back with me to the office at once, if you please, Mr. +Yorke. Mr. Greatorex wants you." + +"What have I done now?" questioned Roland, anticipative of a +reprimand. + +"It is not for anything of that sort, sir. I believe Sir Vincent Yorke +has telegraphed for you to go down to him at Sunny Mead. The despatch +said you were to lose no time." + +Whether Roland leaped highest or shouted loudest, the startled house +could not have decided. The anticipated bailiff's place was, in his +imagination, as surely his, as though he had been installed in it +formally. To wash his hands, brush his hair, and put on a superfine +coat took but a minute, before he was striding to the office little +Jenner on the run by his side, and to the presence of Mr. Greatorex. + +Into which he went with a burst. The lawyer received him calmly and +showed the message from Surrey. + + +"_Sir Vincent Yorke to Mr. Greatorex_. + +"Send Roland Yorke down to me by first train. Lose no time." + + +"Good old Dick!" repeated Roland in the fulness of his heart. "I +thought he'd remember me; and there was I reproaching him like an +ungrateful Tom-cat! It is to appoint me to the bailiff's place, Mr. +Greatorex." + +"Well--it may be," mused Mr. Greatorex. "But I had fancied the post +was filled up." + +"Not it, sir. Long live Dick! When did he come back from Paris?" + +"I know nothing about Sir Vincent's recent movements, Mr. Yorke. You +had better be getting to the Waterloo Station. Have you money for the +journey?" + +"I've got about sevenpence-halfpenny, sir." + +Mr. Greatorex took a half-sovereign from his desk, and ten shillings +in silver. "I don't know how often the trains run," he observed, "but +if you go at once to the station, you will be all right for the first +that starts." + +Not to the station, let it start as soon as it would, without first +seeing Annabel, and telling her of his good fortune. Away up the +stairs went Roland, in search of her, leaping over some boxes that +stood packed in the hall: and there he encountered Mr. Bede Greatorex. +It was four whole days since Roland had met him, and he thought he had +never seen a face so changed in the short space of time. Annabel was +not at home, Bede said; she had gone to Mr. Channing's. + +"You don't look well, sir." + +"Not very, I believe. I am about to try what a month or two's absence +will do for me." + +"And leave us to old Brown!--that _will_ be a nice go!" exclaimed +Roland in blank dismay. "But I may not have to stay," he added more +brightly, as recollection returned to him "Vincent Yorke has +telegraphed for me, sir, and I and Mr. Greatorex think that he is +about to appoint me his bailiff." + +A smile crossed the haggard face of Bede. "I wish you success in it," +he kindly said. + +"Thank you, sir. And I'm sure I wish you and Mrs. Greatorex heaps of +pleasure, and I heartily hope you'll come home strong. Oh! and, Mr. +Bede--Carrick's coming back." + +Bede nodded in answer. Greatorex and Greatorex knew more of the matter +than Roland, since it was they who had intimated to the peer that the +coast was now sufficiently clear for him. + +Roland leaped into a cab, and was taken to Mr. Channing's. He waited +in the empty dining-room; and when Annabel came to him, told her +hurriedly of what had happened. The cab was waiting at the door, +Roland was eager, and her pale cheeks grew rosy with blushes as he +talked and held her hands. + +"It can't be for anything else, you know, Annabel. He is going to +instal me off-hand for certain, or else he would have written and not +telegraphed: perhaps the new bailiff (if he did appoint one) has +turned out to be no good. There'll be a pretty cottage, I daresay, its +walls all covered with roses and lilies, with two hundred a year; and +we shall be as happy as the day's long. You'll not mind trying it, +will you?" + +No, Annabel whispered, the cheeks deepening to crimson, she would not +mind trying it. "I think--I think, Roland," she added, bending down +her pretty face, "that I might have a pupil if I liked; and be well +paid for her." + +"That's jolly," said Roland. "We might do, with that, if Dick only +offered me one hundred. He is uncommonly close-fisted. There'd be a +house free, and no end of fruit and garden-stuff; and living in the +country is very cheap." + +"It is Jane Greatorex." + +"Oh _she_," cried Roland, his countenance falling. "She is a regular +little toad, Annabel. I'd not like you to be bothered with her." + +"She would be always good with me. Mr. and Mrs. Bede are going away, +and Mr. Greatorex does not want us there any longer. He said a few +words to me today about my returning home to mamma at Helstonleigh and +taking Jane with me: that is, if mamma has no objection. He said he +would like Jane to be with me better than with any one; and he'd make +it worth my while in point of salary." + +"Then, Annabel, if you don't object to the young monkey, that's +settled, and I shall look upon it that we are as good as married. What +a turn in fortune's wheel! Won't I serve Dick with my best blood and +marrow! I'll work for him till my arms drop. I say! couldn't I just +see Hamish? I'd like to tell him." + +He ran softly up the stairs as he spoke. Hamish was in bed; and just +now alone, save for Miss Nelly, who had rolled herself upon the +counterpane like a ball, her cheek close to his. Roland whispered all +the items of good news exultantly: it never occurred to him to think +that they might turn out to be castles in the air. A smile, partaking +somewhat of the old amused character, flitted across Hamish's wasted +but still beautiful face, and sat in his blue eyes as he listened. + +"You'll leave Annabel especially to me, won't you, Hamish; and wish us +both joy and happiness?" + +"I wish you both the best wishes I can wish, Roland--God's blessing," +was the low, earnest answer. "His blessing through this life, and in +that to come." + +Roland bent his face down to Nelly's to hide its emotion, and began +kissing her. His grief for Hamish Channing sometimes showed itself +like any girl's. + +"I have left you her guardian, Roland." + +"Me!" exclaimed Roland, the surprise sending him and his wet eyes bolt +upright. + +"You and Arthur jointly. You will take care of her interests, I know." + +"Oh, Hamish, how good of you! Nelly's guardian! _Won't_ I take care of +her! and love her, too. I'll buy her sixpen'orth of best sugared +almonds every day." + +Hamish smiled. "Not her personal guardian, Roland; her mother will be +that. I meant as to her property." + +"Never mind; it's all one. Thank you, Hamish, for your trust in me. +Oh, I am proud! And mind that you are a good girl, Miss Nelly, now +that I shall have the right to call you to order." + +Roland did not seem quite to define the future duties in his own mind. +Nelly raised her tear-stained face, and looked at him defiantly. + +"I'm going away with papa." + +"Not with him, my child," whispered Hamish. "You must stay here a +little while. You and mamma will come later." + +Nelly burst into sobs. "Heaven is better than this. I want to go +there." + +"We shall all get there in time, Nelly," observed Roland in much +gloom, "but I wish I could have gone now in his stead. Oh, Hamish, I +do I do indeed! Gerald's black work will never be out of my heart. And +there's your book getting its crown of laurels at last, and you not +living to wear them!" + +The gentle face, bright with a light not of this world, was turned to +Roland. "A better crown is waiting for me," he murmured. "My Lord and +Master knows how thankfully I shall go to it." + +A stamping outside as of an impatient cab-horse on the frosty street, +reminded Roland that he was bound on a non-delayable mission. On the +stairs he met Annabel, caught hold of her without ceremony, and gave +her shrinking face a few farewell kisses. + +"Goodbye, darling. When I come back it will be as bailiff of Sunny +Mead." + +Roland's delay had been just enough to cause him to miss a train, and +the evening was considerably later when he was at length deposited at +the small station near Sunny Mead. + +Looking up the road and down the road in the cold moonlight, uncertain +which was his way, he found himself accosted by a man in the garb of a +groom. + +"I beg pardon, sir: are you Mr. Yorke." + +"Yes." + +"I've got the dog-cart here, sir." + +"Oh, have you?" returned Roland; "I thought Sunny Mead was close to +the station." + +"It's a matter of ten minutes' walk, sir; but they gave me orders to +be down, and wait for every train until you came." + +"How long has Sir Vincent been back from Paris?" questioned Roland, as +they bowled along. + +"From Paris, sir? He haven't been to it: not lately. The accident +stopped his going." + +"What accident?" + +Ah! what accident! Roland's eyes opened to their utmost width with +surprise, as he listened to the answer. + +"Good heavens! And it was caused, you say, by Gerald Yorke?" + +"That it was, sir." + +"Why, he's my brother." + +"Well, sir, accidents happen unintentional to the best of us," +observed the man, striving to be polite. "Some of 'em said that the +gentleman didn't show himself 'cute at handling of a gun." + +"I don't believe he ever handled one in his life before," avowed +impulsive Roland. "What a fool he must have been! How is Sir Vincent +going on? I'm sure I hope it was no great damage." + +"Sir Vincent was going on all right till today, sir; and as to the +damage it was not thought to be much. We hear now that it has taken a +turn for the worse. They talk of erysipelas." + +"Oh, that's nothing," said Roland. "I knew a fellow who got erysipelas +in the face at Port Natal till it was as big as a pumpkin, but he did +his work all the same. That's it," he mentally decided, as they +approached the house. "Poor Dick, confined indoors, can't look after +things himself, and is going to put me to do it." + +Upon a flat bed, or couch, in the downstairs room, where we saw him +breakfasting with Gerald, lay Sir Vincent Yorke, his dog beside him. +He held out his hand to greet Roland. Impulsively and rather +explosively, that unsophisticated African traveller burst out with +regrets on the score of the accident, and the more especially that it +should have been caused by Gerald. + +"Ay, it was a bad job," said Sir Vincent, quietly. "Sit down Roland. +Here near to me. I am in a good bit of pain, and don't care to talk at +a distance." + +Roland took the chair pointed to, not a yard off Sir Vincent as he +lay, and the two looked at each other. A kind of honest shame was on +Roland's face: he was inwardly asking himself how much more disgrace +Gerald meant to bring on him. The moderator lamp, a soft, thin +perforated paper thrown over to subdue its brightness, was behind the +invalid. + +"I hope you'll soon be about again, Vincent." + +"I hoped so, too, until this morning," was Sir Vincent's answer. "My +leg was very uneasy all last night, and I sent at daybreak for the +surgeon. He came, and was obliged to tell me that an unfavourable +change had taken place: in fact, that dangerous symptoms had set in." + +"But you can be cured?" cried Roland. + +"No, not now." + +"Not be cured!" exclaimed Roland, starting up with wild eyes, and +hardly knowing what to understand. "Do you mean, that it will be long +first?" + +"I mean, that I shall never be cured at all in this world. Sit down, +Roland, and listen quietly. The wound, regarded at first as a very +simple one, and apparently continuing to progress well, has taken a +turn for the worse; and must shortly end in death. Now, do be +tranquil, old fellow, and listen. You are my heir, you know, Roland." + +Roland, constrained to patience and his chair, stared, and pulled at +his whiskers, and stared again. + +"Your heir?" + +"Certainly. My heir." + +The contingency had never, in the whole course of his life, entered +into the imagination of simple Roland. He sat in speechless +bewilderment. + +"The moment the breath goes out of this poor frail body--and the +doctors tell me it will not be many more hours in it now--you will be +Sir Roland Yorke. The fourth baronet, and the possessor of the Yorke +estates--such as they are." + +"Oh, my gracious!" uttered Roland, a vast deal more startled at the +prospect than he had been at that of crying hot-pies in Poplar. "Do +you mean it, Vincent?" + +"_Mean_ it! Where are your wits gone, that you need ask? You must know +as well as I do that you come next in succession." + +"I never thought of it; never once. I don't want it, Vincent, old +fellow; I don't, indeed. I hope, with all my heart, you'll get well, +and hold it for yourself. Oh, Dick, I hope you will!" + +Roland had risen and caught the outstretched hand. As Sir Vincent +heard the earnest tones, and saw the face of genuine concern shining +out in all its guileless simplicity, the tears in the honest eyes, he +came to the conclusion that Roland had been somewhat depreciated among +them. + +"Nothing can save me, Roland; the doctors have pronounced me to be +past human skill, and I feel for myself that I am so. It has not been +long, one day, 'to set my house in order,' has it?" + +Amidst Roland's general confusion, nothing had struck him more than +the change in Vincent's tone. The old, mincing affectation was utterly +gone. A man cannot retain such when brought face to face with death. + +"If you could but get well!" repeated poor Roland, rubbing his hot +face as he got back to his chair. + +"Doctors, lawyers, and parsons--I have had them all here today," +resumed Sir Vincent. "The first man I sent for, after the fiat was +pronounced, was a lawyer from the village hard by: there might not be +time, I feared, to get down old Greatorex. He made a short will for +me: and it was only when I began to consider what its provisions +should be, that I (so to say) remembered you as my heir and +successor." + +Roland sat, hopelessly listening, unable to take in too much at once. + +"The entailed property lapses to you; but there is some, personal and +else, at my own disposal. With the exception of a few legacies, I have +bequeathed it all to you, Roland--and you'll be poor enough: and I've +appointed you sole executor. But I think you will make a better man, +as the family's head, than I might have made in the long run; and I am +truly glad that it is you to succeed, and not Gerald." + +Roland gave a groan. + +"I allude to his disposition, which I don't think great things of, and +to his propensity for spending," continued Sir Vincent. "Gerald would +have every acre of the estate mortgaged in a couple of years: I think +you will be different. Don't live beyond your means, Roland; that's +all. + +"I'll try to do my very best by everybody," replied Roland. "As to +living beyond my means, Annabel will see to that, and take care of me. +Dick! Dick! it seems so wicked of me to talk coolly of it, as if I +were speculating on your death. I wish you'd try and live! I don't +want the estate and the money; I never thought of such a thing as +coming in to it. I rushed down here tonight, hoping you were going to +make me your bailiff; and I thought how well I'd try to serve you, and +what a good fellow you were for doing it." + +"Ah," was the dying man's slight comment, as he drew himself a trifle +higher in the bed. "You will be master instead of bailiff; that's all +the difference. I had just engaged a bailiff when you wrote: and I'd +advise you to keep him on, Roland, unless you really feel competent to +the management yourself." + +"I'll keep him on until I've learnt it; that won't be long first. I +must have something to employ my time in, Vincent." + +"True: I wish I had had it. An idle man must, almost of necessity, +glide into various kinds of mischief: of which debt is one." + +"You need not fear debt for me, Vincent," was the earnest answer. "I +have lived too long on empty pockets, and earned a crust before I ate +it, to have ill ways for money or inclination to spend. Why, my best +dress suit has been in pawn these two months: and old Greatorex had to +advance me twenty shillings to bring me down here." + +Something like a smile flitted over Sir Vincent's lips. He pointed to +a desk that stood on a side-table. + +"When I am gone, Roland, you can open that: there's a little loose +cash in it. It will be enough to repay Greatorex and redeem your +clothes." + +"But I'd not like to take it, Vincent, thank you. I'd not, indeed." + +"Why, man! it will be your own then." + +"Oh, well--I never!" cried Roland softly: quite unable to realize his +fast-approaching position. + +"The danger to some people might lie in being thus suddenly raised +from poverty to affluence," remarked Sir Vincent. "It has shipwrecked +many a one." + +"Don't fear for me, or for the estate either, Vincent. Had this +happened some seven or eight years ago, when I was a lazy, conceited, +ignorant young fool, nearly as stuck-up as Gerald, I can't say how it +might have been. But I went to Port Natal, you know; and I gained my +life's lesson there. Hamish Channing has left me guardian to Nelly. I +can guess why he did it, too--that the world may see he thinks me +worthy to be trusted at last. He had always the most delicately +generous heart in Christendom." + +"Hamish and I!" murmured Sir Vincent, in self-communing, "on the wing +nearly together." + +Yes, it was so. And Roland, with all his lamentation, could not alter +the fiat. + +"What was the lesson you learnt at Port Natal?" + +"Not to be a reckless spendthrift; not to be idle and useless. +Vincent," added Roland, bending his face forward in its strange +earnestness, and dropping his voice till it was scarcely louder than a +whisper, "I learnt in Port Natal that there was another world to live +for after this: I learnt that our time was not our own to waste in +sin, but God's time, given us to use for the best. A chum of mine out +there, named Bartle, was struck down by an accident; the doctor said +he'd not live the day out--and he didn't. It was a caution to hear his +moans and groans, Vincent. He had not been very bad, as far as I knew, +in the ways that the world calls bad; he had only been careless and +idle, and wasted his days, and never thought of what was to come +after. I wish everybody that's the same had seen him die, Vincent, and +heard his dreadful cries for mercy. If ever I forget to remember it, I +think God would forget me. I saw many such sudden deaths, and plenty +of remorse for them, but none as trying as his. It taught me a lesson: +brought me to thought, you know. Don't you fear for me, Vincent; it +will be all right, I hope: and if I could ever be so foolhardy as to +look at a step on the backward route, Annabel would not let me take +it." + +Roland had spoken in characteristic oblivion that the case, as to the +sudden striking down, bore so entire an analogy to the one before him. +Sir Vincent recalled it to him. + +"Yes. Just as it is with me, Roland." + +"Oh--but--you've got time yet, you know, Dick," he said, a little +confused. "A parson, who was knocking about, over there, in a +threadbare coat, came in and saw Bartle, and talked to him about the +thief on the cross. Bartle couldn't see it; his fears didn't let him; +_you_ may." + +"Yes, yes," replied Sir Vincent, with a half smile, but Roland thought +it looked like a peaceful one. "I have had a parson with me also, +Roland." + +Roland's face lighted up with a kind of reverence. Sir Vincent put out +his hand and stroked the dog. + +"You'll be kind to him, Roland?" + +"Oh, won't I, Dick! What's his name?" + +"Spot." + +"Here! Spot, Spot!" + +"Go, Spot. Go to your future master." + +"Come, then, old fellow. Spot! Spot!" + +The dog made a sudden leap to the side of Roland at the call, and +rubbed his nose against the extended hand. + +"I'll be as good to him as if he were a child," spoke Roland, in his +earnestness. "See! we are friends already, Vincent." + +And this simple-hearted young fellow was the scapegoat they had all +despised! Sir Vincent caught the strong hand and clasped it within his +delicate one. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. +A WIDE BLACK BAND ON ROLAND'S HAT. + + +Early in the afternoon and the Waterloo Railway Station. A gentleman +got out of a first-class carriage, and made his way to one of the +waiting hansoms. + +"Stop at the first hatter's you come to," he said to the driver. + +Leaping out when his directions were obeyed, he entered the shop and +asked for a mourning band to be put on his hat; a "deep one." You do +not need to be told who it was, and what the black band was for. +Vincent had died about eight o'clock in the morning, and the Natal +traveller was Sir Roland Yorke. + +Save for the fact that he had some money in his pockets, in actual +reality, which afforded a kind of personal ease to the mind, he was +anything but elated at the change of position. On the contrary, he +felt very much subdued. Roland could not be selfish, and the grief and +shock brought him by the unexpected death of his cousin Vincent, +outweighed every thought of self. He had already tasted some of the +fruits of future power. Servants and others had referred to him that +morning as the new baronet and their master; his pleasure had been +consulted in current matters touching the house and estate, his orders +been requested as to the funeral. Roland was head of all now, the sole +master. Setting aside the sadness that filled his heart to the +exclusion of all else, the very suddenness of the change would prevent +him as yet realizing it in his own mind. + +With the conspicuous band on his hat, stretching up rather above the +top of the crown, Roland entered the cab again, and ordered it to the +office. There he presented himself to Mr. Greatorex. + +"Well?" said the lawyer, turning round from his desk "So you are back +again! What did Sir Vincent want with you? Has he made you his +bailiff?" + +Roland sadly shook his head. And Mr. Greatorex saw that something was +wrong. + +"What's amiss?" he hastily inquired. + +"If you please sir, I am Sir Roland now." + +"You are what?" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex. + +"It's only too true," groaned Roland. "Poor Vincent is dead. Mr. +Greatorex, I'd work on all fours for a living to the end of my days if +it could bring him to life again. I never thought to come in, I'm +sure; and I wouldn't willingly. He died at eight o'clock this +morning." + +Mr. Greatorex leaned back in his chair and relieved his mind by a +pastime he might have caught from Roland--that of staring. Not having +heard of Sir Vincent's accident, this assertion of his death sounded +only the more surprising. Was Roland telling the truth? He almost +questioned it. Roland, perceiving the doubt, gave a summary of +particulars, and Mr. Greatorex slowly realized the facts. + +Sir Roland Yorke! The light-headed, simple-minded clerk, who had been +living on a pound a week and working sufficiently hard to get it, +suddenly transformed into a powerful baronet! It was like a romance in +a child's fairy tale. Mr. Greatorex rose and held out his hand. + +"I must congratulate you on your succession, Sir Roland, sad though +the events are that have led to it." + +"Now don't! please don't!" interrupted Roland. "I hope nobody will do +that, sir: it sounds like a wrong on poor Dick. Oh, I'd bring him to +life again if I were able." + +"I trust you will make us your men of business, Sir Roland," resumed +Mr. Greatorex, still standing. "We have been solicitors to the head of +the Yorke family in succession for many years now." + +"I'm sure if you'll be at the trouble of acting for me, I should like +nothing better, sir: bad manners to me if I could have any different +thought! And I've put your name and Mr. Bede's down in the list for +the funeral, if you'll please attend it. There'll be but a few of us +in all. Gerald (though I shouldn't think _he_ will show his face at +it), William Yorke, Arthur Channing, two or three of Dick's friends, +and you and Mr. Bede. Poor Dick said to me when he was dying not to +have the same kind of show he had for his father's funeral, he saw the +folly of it now, but the quietest I could order. I think he has gone +to heaven, Mr. Greatorex." + +But that the subject was a solemn one, Mr. Greatorex had certainly +laughed at the quaint simplicity of the concluding sentence. One +reminiscence in connection with the past funeral rose forcibly in his +mind--of the slighting neglect shown to the young man now before him. +He, the real heir-presumptive, only that nobody had the wit to think +of it, was not deemed good enough to follow his uncle to the grave. +But stood in his place now. + +Bede would not be able to attend the ceremony, Mr. Greatorex said +aloud: he was already in France, having crossed over with his wife by +the last mail train. + +"What is the matter with him?" asked Roland. "He looked as ill as he +could look yesterday." + +"I don't know what the matter is," said Mr. Greatorex. "He has an +inward complaint, and I fear it must be making great strides. His name +will be taken out of the firm tomorrow, and give place to Frank's. It +was Bede's own request: it is as if he fears he may never be capable +of business again." + +"I'm sure I hope he will," cried Roland in his sympathy. "About me, +Mr. Greatorex? Of course I'd not like to leave you at a pinch; I'll +come to the office tomorrow morning and do my work as usual for a day +or two, until you've found somebody to replace me. I should like to +take this afternoon for myself." + +But Mr. Greatorex with a smile, thought they should not need to +trouble Sir Roland: which was no doubt an agreeable intimation: and +Roland really had a good deal to do in connection with his new +position. + +"If I'm not forgetting!" he exclaimed, just as he was taking his +departure. "There's the money you lent me, sir, and I thank you for +the loan of it." + +In taking the sovereign from his pocket, he pulled out several. Mr. +Greatorex jokingly remarked that he had apparently no longer need to +borrow. + +"It is from poor Dick's desk," sadly observed Roland. "He told me +there was enough money in it to repay the pound to you and get my +clothes out of pawn, and that it would be all my own when he died. +Well, what do you think I found there when I opened it today?--Nearly +a hundred pounds in gold and bank notes!" + +"But you have not got all that about you, I hope?" + +"Yes I have, sir; it was safer to bring it up than to leave it. I +shall pay it into the banker's. I've got to show myself there, I +suppose, and leave my signature in their books; it won't be so neat a +one as poor Dick's." + +Roland departed. Looking in for a moment at the office as he went out, +and announcing himself as Sir Roland Yorke, upon which Mr. Hurst burst +out laughing in his face. He dashed in on Mrs. Jones with his news, +ate nearly the whole of a shilling Madeira cake that happened to be on +the table, while he talked, and made a voluntary promise to that tart +and disbelieving matron to refurnish her house from top to bottom. + +Then the cab was ordered to the banker's, where his business was +satisfactorily adjusted. Gerald's chambers were not far off, and +Roland took them next. The servant met him with the bold assertion +that his master was out. + +"Don't bother yourself to deny him, my good man; I saw his face at the +window," said Roland, with frankness. "You may safely show me in: I am +not a creditor." + +"Well, sir, we are obliged to be excessively cautious, just now, and +that's the truth," apologized the man in a tone of confidence. "Mr. +Yorke, I think?" + +"Sir Roland Yorke," corrected Roland. + +"_Sir?_" returned the man, looking at him as if he thought he saw a +lunatic. + +"Sir Roland Yorke," was the emphatic repetition. "Have the goodness to +announce me." + +And the servant opened the room door and did it. + +As Roland saw Gerald's quick look of surprise, he would, under other +circumstances, have shaken in his shoes at the fun. But sadness wholly +reigned over him today. And--if truth must be told--a terrible +aversion to Gerald for his work and its fruits held possession of the +new heir. + +"Oh, it's you," cried Gerald, roughly. "What on earth possessed the +fellow?" + +"The fellow did right, Gerald. I gave him my name, and he announced +it." + +"Don't come here with your fool's blabber. He said 'Sir Roland Yorke.'" + +"And it is what I am." + +Gerald's face grew dark with passion. He had an especial dislike to be +played with. + +"Vincent's dead, Gerald." + +"It is a lie." + +"Vincent died this morning at eight o'clock," repeated Roland. "I was +with him: he telegraphed for me yesterday. Look at this mourning +band"--showing his hat--"I've just been to get it put on. Do you think +I'd have the face to invent a jest on this subject? Vincent Yorke is +dead, poor fellow, and I have come into things as Sir Roland. Not that +I can fully believe it myself yet." The tone of the voice, the deep +black band, and a kind of subtle instinct within himself brought +conviction of the truth home to Gerald Yorke. Had it been to save his +fame, he could not have helped the loud brazen tone from going out of +his voice, or the dread that took possession of his whole aspect. + +"What--has--he--died--of?" + +"The gunshot wound." + +A pause. Gerald broke it. + +"It was going on well. I heard so only two days ago." + +"But it took a sudden turn for the worse; and he is dead." + +Gerald's face assumed a tinge as of bluish chalk. Was he to have _two_ +lives on his soul? Hamish Channing's had surely been enough for him +without Vincent Yorke's. Pushing back his damp hair, he met Roland's +steady look, and so made believe to feel nothing, went to the fire, +and stirred it gently. + +"Why did the doctors let it take _this_ turn?" he asked, flinging down +the poker. "It was as simple a wound as ever was given." + +"I suppose they'd have helped it if they could." + +Another pause. + +"Well--of course--as you _have_ succeeded, I must congratulate you," +said Gerald stiffly and lamely. Absently, too, for he was buried in +thought, reflecting on what an idiotic policy his, to Roland, had +been: but this contingency had never occurred to him more than it had +to Roland. + +"Vincent had a good lot of property that was not entailed," resumed +Gerald. "Do you know who he has willed it to? Did he make a will?" + +"He made a will yesterday, before telegraphing for me," Gerald lifted +his face with a transient hope. + +"I wonder if he has remembered me?" + +"I think not. Except some legacies to the servants, and a keepsake for +Miss Trehern--his watch and diamond ring, I fancy--he said nobody's +name was mentioned in the will but mine. It has not been opened: I +thought I'd leave it till after the funeral. I am the executor." + +"_You!_--you don't want his ready money as well as his inheritance, +spoke Gerald, in a foam. + +"I'm sure I didn't want any of it, I only thought to be his bailiff; +but I can't help it if it has come to me," was Roland's quiet answer, +as he turned to depart. "Good afternoon, Gerald. I thought it right to +call and tell you of his death: you may like to draw your blinds +down." + +"Thanks," said Gerald, sarcastically. + +"You will receive an invitation to the funeral, Gerald. But I'd like +to intimate that if you do not care to attend, I shall not look upon +it in the light of a slight," added candid Roland, who really spoke in +simple good nature. "We shall be enough without you if you'd rather +stay away." + +Before Gerald's awful rage at the speech was over, for he looked upon +it as bestowed in a patronizing light from the new baronet, Roland was +vaulting into the waiting cab. Gerald had the pleasure of peeping on +from the window. + +"Sir Roland Yorke!--Sir Roland Yorke!" he spoke aloud in his horrible +mortification. "Sunny Mead for his home, and four thousand a year +landed property, and heaps of ready money. Curse the beggar! Curse the +shot that has brought him the luck of the inheritance! I'd sell my +soul for it to have been mine. I should wear the honours better than +he. I wish to Heaven he could die tonight!" + +And Mr. Gerald Yorke, looking after the receding cab with a dark and +sullen countenance, could indeed have sold his soul; if by so doing he +might have annihilated his brother and stepped into his place. He was +in that precise frame of mind for which some few men in the world's +actual history, and a vast many in fiction, have stained their hands +with crime for the greed of gain. + + + * * * * * * + + +Tread lightly, speak softly; for death is already hovering in the +chamber. As Roland enters on tiptoe he takes in the scene at a glance. +Hamish lying, with closed eyes, and the live ball, Miss Nelly, tucked +outside beside him her golden curls mingling with his damp hair. A sea +of old Helstonleigh faces seems to be gathered round; save that Roland +silently clasps Arthur's hand, he takes notice of none. Edging himself +between Annabel and Tom Channing, as they stand side by side, he bends +his face of concern downwards. The slight stir arouses Hamish, he +opens his eyes, and holds up his feeble hand with a remnant of the old +smile. + +"Back again! Head bailiff?" + +Roland bit his lip. His chest was heaving with emotion, his face +working. Hamish, who retained his keenest perceptive faculties to the +last, spoke again in his faint voice. + +"Is it good news?" + +"It's good news. Good news, Hamish, and at the same time awfully bad. +Vincent's dead, and I'm--I'm in his shoes." + +Hamish did not seem to understand. Neither did the others. + +"It's me to come after him, poor fellow, you see. I am Sir Roland +now." + +As the words fell upon the previously silent room, you might have +heard a pin drop. Cheeks flushed, eyes looked out their questioning +surprise at the speaker. Upon Hamish alone the communication seemed to +make no impression: earthly interests were to him now as nothing. + +"You will give me Annabel with a will, Hamish, now that I have come +into the family inheritance?" + +"I had already given her to you, so far as my best will was good to do +it. Roland----" + +The voice seemed to be fading away altogether, but in the eyes there +was an eager gaze. Roland bent his head lower to catch the sounds +about to issue from the lips. + +"There's a different and a better inheritance, Roland; one of love, +and light, and everlasting peace. You will both of you strive for +that." + +"Yes, that we will. And gain it too. Oh, Hamish, if you could but stop +with us a bit longer!" burst forth Roland, letting his suppressed +emotion come out with a choking sob. "It's nothing all round but +dying. First Vincent, and now you! I never knew such a miserable world +as this. I'd have laid down my own life to keep either of you in it." + +There stole a smile of ineffable peace over the dying face. It seemed +to have caught a ray of the heavenly light in which it would so soon +be shining. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. +DREAMS REALIZED. + + +It is certainly not often in this life that improbable dreams of fame +and fortune get to be realized as they were in the case of Roland +Yorke. Down he went to his native place, Helstonleigh, in all the +glory of fame and fortune that his imagination had been wont to +picture: the dog, Spot, with him. He paid his creditors their debts +twice over he made presents to his mother and the world; he went +knocking at old Galloway's door, and caused himself to be fully +announced, as he had at Gerald's--Sir Roland Yorke. He ran in and out +of the proctor's office at will, took possession of his former stool +there, and answered callers as if he were the veritable clerk he used +to be. He promised a living to Tom Channing, promotion in India to +Charley; made a sweeping bow to William Yorke the first time he met +him in the street, and called out to know whether he might be +considered a scapegoat still. He put up a tombstone to commemorate +the virtues of Jenkins. Meeting Harry Huntley, he nearly cried over +Hamish. Hamish Channing's book was at length in every heart and +home--ah, that he had lived to see it! The good had all come too late +for _him_. Ellen would be wealthy from henceforth, for her father had +regained his fortune; her aunt, stiff Miss Huntley, had died, and +bequeathed to her the whole of hers; and little Miss Nelly was an +heiress. + +Not immediately, however, had Roland hastened to quit London for +Helstonleigh, and there's something to tell about it. He had affairs +to attend to first; and it took him some time to forget his daily +sorrow for the dead. Roland's private belief was that he should never +cease to mourn for Hamish; should never rise in the morning, or go to +rest at night, without thinking of him and Gerald's miserable work. He +entered on his abode at Sunny Mead, his home from henceforth, made +himself acquainted with his future position, and what his exact +revenues would be. In his imperfect way, but honest wish to do right, +he apportioned out plenty of work for himself, and not much to spend, +resolving above all things to eschew a life of frivolity and idleness. +Roland would rather have followed the plough's tail day by day, than +sink to that. + +The first few weeks he divided his time between Sunny Mead and London. +When in town, he dropped in upon his old friends with native +familiarity: prosperity and a title could not change Roland. The +office and clerks saw him very often; Mrs. Jones's tea and muffins +occasionally suffered by a guest who had a large appetite. He +refurnished that tart lady's house for her after a rather sharp +battle; for at first Mrs. J. would not accept the boon. The first +visitor Roland had the honour of entertaining was Lord Carrick. His +white-haired lordship was flourishing in London again, and gave Roland +a whole week of his hearty, genial good-natured company at Sunny Mead. + +The thorn in the flesh was Gerald, and it happened that Mr. Gerald's +career came to a crisis during the week of Lord Carrick's stay at +Sunny Mead. On the last day of it, when they were out in the frost, +and the peer was imparting to his nephew sundry theories for the best +cultivation of land, a servant ran out to announce the arrival of a +lady, who had come in great haste from the railway station. She +appeared to be in distress, the man added, and said she must at once +see Sir Roland. + +In distress beyond doubt: for when Roland went clattering in, +wondering who it could be, there met him the tear-stained face of +Winny. She had brought down a piteous tale. Gerald, arrested the +previous day, had lodgings in that savoury prison, Whitecross Street; +he had boldly sent her to ask Roland to pay his debts and set him +free. Winny, sobbing over some luncheon that Roland good-naturedly set +her down to at once, protested that she felt sure one at least of the +three little girls would be found in the fire when she got back to +them. + +Lord Carrick drew Roland aside. + +"I'm not ill-natured, me boy, as ye knew long ago, and I'd do a good +turn for anybody; but I'd like to give ye a caution. _Don't begin by +paying Gerald's debts_. If ye do, as sure as ye're a living man, ye'll +never have a minute's peace for him to the last day of ye're life. Set +him free now, and all his thanks would be to run up more for ye to +pay. In a year's time he'd be in the same plight again; and he or his +creditors would be bothering ye always. _Don't begin it_. Let him +fight out his debts as he best can." + +"It's just what I'd like to do," said Roland. "I'd not mind allowing a +couple of hundred a year, or so, for Winny and the children. I meant +to offer it. It might be paid to her weekly, you know, uncle, and I +could slip something more into her hand whenever we met. She might get +a bit of peace then. But I don't think it would be doing Gerald any +real kindness in the long run to release him from his debts." + +Lord Carrick nodded most emphatically. + +"I need not tell Winny this, Uncle Carrick--only that she and the +kittens shall be taken care of from henceforth. She can carry a sealed +note back to Gerald." + +"_I_'ll see to him," said Lord Carrick. "If he is to get any help at +all, it must be from me. Ye can write the note to him. It would be the +worst day's work ye ever entered on if ye attempted to help him. It is +nothing else but helping people, Roland, me boy, that has kept me +down, and I'd not like to see you begin it. If Gerald can't get clear +without assistance, I may come to the rescue later. But he'll have to +try." + +"Perhaps I might be got to allow him a hundred a year, or so, for +himself later," added relenting Roland. "But I'll never have anything +to do with his debts, or suffer him to look to me to pay them." + +Could Gerald in his distant and gloomy abode, but have heard this, he +had surely been ready to shoot the pair of speakers; and with more +intentional malignity, too, than he had shot Sir Vincent. + +But we began the chapter at Helstonleigh. For once in its monotonous +life that faithful city had found something to arouse it from its +jog-trot course; and people flew to their doors and windows to gaze +after Sir Roland Yorke. It did not seem much less improbable that the +time-honoured cathedral might some night disappear altogether, than +that the once improvident schoolboy of not too good repute, the +careless run-a-gate who had made a moonlight flitting, and left some +fifty pounds' worth of debts behind him, should come back Sir Roland, +like a hero of romance. + +Fruition never answers to anticipations--as Roland found, now that +his golden visions came to be realized. The romantic charm of the +oft-pictured dream was wanting; the green freshness of sanguine +boyhood no longer threw its halo on his heart; the vivid glow of +imaginative hope had mellowed down to a sober tint. In manner, in +gleeful frankness, Roland was nearly as impulsive and boyish as ever; +but his mind had gained a good deal of experience, and reflection had +come to him. The chances and changes of the world had worked their +effect; and the deaths caused directly or indirectly by Gerald, sat +heavily on his generous heart. Adam's curse lies on all things, and +there can be no pleasure without pain. + +Roland did not miss it. Enough of charm was left to him. Annabel was +staying with her mother, and things seemed to have gone back again to +the dear old days before Roland had known the world, or tasted of its +cares. Roland went calling upon his acquaintance continually, distant +and near, making himself at home everywhere. Ellen Channing, worn to a +thread-paper with grief, was visiting her father in her maiden home. +Nelly made its charm now. The young widow would probably take up her +abode at Helstonleigh, in spite of Roland's strong advice that it +should be near Sunny Mead. + +"I told you I should be sure to get on and make my fortune sometime, +Mr. Galloway." + +The old proctor, whose health was failing hopelessly, returned a +slighting answer. Roland, without ceremony as usual, had dashed into +the office, and was sitting on a high desk with his legs dangling. The +remark was given in return for some disparaging observation as to +Roland's former doings. + +"_You_ made it! Ugh! A great deal of that." + +"Oh--well--I've come into one, at any rate." + +"The only way you were ever likely to attain to one. Left to your own +exertions, you'd have got back here with holes in your breeches." + +"Now don't you be personal, sir," was the laughing rejoinder. "I'm Sir +Roland Yorke, you know." + +"And a fine Sir Roland you'll be!" + +"I'll try and be a good one," said Roland emphatically, as he caught +Arthur's eye--who was seated in the place of state as the head of the +office, for the proctor had virtually resigned it. "Arthur knows he +can trust me now: ask him, else, sir. Hamish knew it also before he +died." + +"I should like to hear what business he had to die, and who killed +him?" cried old Galloway explosively. "It was done amongst you, I +know. A nice thing for my old friend Mr. Huntley to get back to +England and find his son-in-law dead: the bright, true young fellow +that he loved as the apple of his eye." + +"Yes, I think he was killed among us, up there," sadly avowed Roland, +his honest face kindling with shame. "But I did not help in it, Mr. +Galloway; I'd have given my life to save his. I wish I could!" + +"Wishes won't bring him back. I saw his wife yesterday--his widow, +that is. I'm sure I couldn't bear to look at her." + +"Did you see sweet little Nelly?" cried Roland eagerly, his thoughts +taking a turn. "If ever I have a girl of my own I hope she'll be like +that child." + +"Now just you please to take yourself off, Sir Roland, and come in +when we're a little less busy," returned the proctor, who was very +much out of sorts that morning. "You are hindering business, just as +you used to do." + +But perhaps the greatest of all small delights was that of +encountering Mr. Butterby. Roland had just emerged from the market +house one Saturday, where he had been in the thick of the throng, +making himself at home, and inquiring affably the price of butter of +all the faces he remembered, and been seduced into buying a tough old +gander, on the grave assurance that it was a young and tender goose, +when he and the detective met face to face. + +"Well?" said Roland, dangling the goose in his hand, as unblushingly +as though it had been a bouquet of choice flowers. + +"Well?" returned Mr. Butterby. "How are you, sir? I heard you were +down here." + +"Ay. I've come to set things straight that I left crooked. And glad to +be able to do it at last. You've heard about me, I suppose, Butterby?" + +"_I_'ve heard," assented Butterby. "You are Sir Roland Yorke, and have +come into the family estates and honours, through the untimely death +of Sir Vincent. A lucky shot for you, sir." + +"Lucky?" groaned Roland. "Well, in one sense I suppose it was: but +don't go and think me a heartless camel, Butterby. I declare to you +that if I could bring Sir Vincent back, though I had to return to my +work again, and the turn-up bedstead at Mrs. J.'s, I'd do it this +minute cheerfully. When I sat by, watching him die, knowing he was +going to make room for me, I felt downright wicked: almost as bad as +my nice brother must have felt, who shot him. Did you read about it in +the newspapers?--they had got it all as pat as might be. I can't +think, for my part, how they lay hold of things." + +Butterby nodded assent. There was little he did not read, if it could +in the remotest degree concern him. + +"I'm paying up, Butterby. Paying everybody, and something over. If +ever I get into debt again call me an owl. Galloway groans and grunts, +and says I shall; but I fancy he knows better. What do you think? He +took his hat off to me in the street yesterday! formerly he'd hardly +nod to me over his shoulder sideways." + +"How were the folks up yonder, Sir Roland, when you left?" asked +Butterby, jerking his head in the direction of London. "Is Miss Rye +all right?" + +"Oh, she's uncommon jolly. The last day I called there, Mrs. J. said +she supposed she and Winter--they call him Winter now--would be making +a match of it. Upon that, I told Miss Rye I'd buy her the wedding +dress. Instead of being properly grateful, she advised me not to talk +so fast. I say, Butterby, that _was_ a mistake of yours, that was--the +taking her into custody for the one that killed John Ollivera." + +"Ay," carelessly returned Mr. Butterby, with a kind of sniff. "The +best of us go in for mistakes, you know." + +"I suppose _you_ can't help it, just as some people can't help +dreaming," observed Roland with native politeness. "I went up and saw +his grave yesterday. I say, shall you ever pitch upon the right one?" + +But that Mr. Butterby turned his eyes away towards the Guildhall +opposite before he answered, Roland might have observed a peculiar +shade cross their steady light. Whatever curious outlets his +speculations had drifted to in the course of years, as to the slayer +of Mr. Ollivera, he knew the truth now. + +"Shan't try at it, sir. Take it from first to last, it has been about +the queerest case that over fell under mortal skill; and we are +content for the future to let it be." + +"I won't forget you, Butterby. You've not been a bad one on the whole. +A snuffbox would be of no use, you said; but you shall have something +else. And look here, if ever you should come within range of my place +in Surrey, I'd be glad to see you there for half an hour's chat. +Good-day, old Butterby. Isn't this a prime goose? I've just been +giving seven shillings for it." + +He and his ancient goose went vaulting off. Roland frequently took +articles home to help garnish Lady Augusta's dinner-table; very much +to the wrath of the cook, who found she had double work. + +But it must not be thought Roland led entirely an idle life at +Helstonleigh. Apart from personal calls on his friendship, in the +shape of dropping in upon people, he had work on his hands. By Mrs. +J.'s permission he was replacing the plain stone on poor Jenkins's +grave with one of costly marble. Roland himself undertook the +inscription. Not being accustomed to composition, he found it a +puzzling task. + + +"Here's to the memory of JOSEPH JENKINS. He was too good for this +world, inoffensive as a young sparrow, and did everybody's work as +well as his own. Put upon by the office and people in general, he bore +it all meekly, according to his nature, never turning again. A cough +took him off to Heaven, leaving Mrs. J. behind, and one or two to +regret him, who knew his virtues. This tribute is erected by his +attached friend, (who was one of the worst to put upon him in life,) +and sorrowful, ROLAND YORKE." + + +Such was the inscription for the marble tombstone, as it went in to +the sculptor. That functionary suggested some slight alterations, +which Sir Roland was reluctant to accede to. There ensued writing and +counter writing, and the epitaph, finally inscribed, contained but +little (like some bills that pass through Parliament) of the original. + +And so the sweet days of spring glided on, and the time came for +Roland to depart. To depart until June, when he would return to claim +his bride. Tom Channing should marry them, and nobody else, avowed +Roland; and if the Reverend Bill put up his back at not having the +first finger in the pie, why he must put it up. Annabel was his +confidant in all things; and Annabel thought she should rather be +married by her brother, than by William Yorke. + +The once happy home of the Channings bore the marks of time's chances +and changes. The house was the same, as were its elements for peace, +but some of its inmates had quitted it for ever. Mrs. Channing, +Arthur, Tom, Charles, and Annabel: they moved about in their mourning +garments, with their regretful faces, thinking ever of him who had +whilom made its sunshine, Hamish the bright. He had gone to a better +world, where there was neither pain nor tears, neither cruel injustice +nor heart-breaking sorrow; but this consolation is always hard to +realize, and their grief was lasting. Mrs. Channing looked aged and +worn; the boys and girls had grown into men and women; in old Judith +and her snow-white mob-cap, there alone appeared to be no change. + +It was at length the day of Roland's departure, and he was holding a +final interview with Annabel. They stood at the glass doors of the +study window, open to the garden, and the warm May sun shone in gaily, +making the crape on Annabel's silk dress look hot and rusty. The once +untidy study, when they were all boys and girls together, had been +renovated with a green carpet and delicately-papered walls; the young +parson now called it his. + +Considering Roland's deficiencies on the score of forethought, he +had really organized the plans for his future life with a great deal +of wisdom. Sunny Mead was to be their sole home, and Annabel chief +cash-keeper in regard to ready money. On that he was resolved, +honestly avowing that he was not to be trusted with money in his +pocket: it was sure to go. The residence in Portland Place, which Sir +Richard had only held on a lease, had been given up: there was to be +no town house, no fashion, no gaiety. Annabel seconded him in all, +urging moderation strenuously. He was going up now to make his bow to +the Prince of Wales at a leéve: and it was to be hoped he would +accomplish it with passable decorum: and Annabel would be presented to +the Queen on the first favourable opportunity, after she should be +Lady Yorke. So far, that was due from their position; but there the +exigencies of fashionable society would for them end. Sunny Mead would +be their home; and, it could not be doubted, a very happy one. They +are talking of the prospect, now as they stand together: and to both +it is one of rose colour. + +"But for going to Port Natal, Annabel, there's no knowing how I might +have turned out--a regular drawling idler about town, as some of the +Yorkes have been before me. I might have gone in for all kinds of +folly, and come to no end of grief. We shall be safe down at Sunny +Mead, and live like--like----" Roland stops for a simile. + +"Rational people," puts in Annabel with a smile. + +"Fighting-cocks," says Roland. "I shall make a good farmer." + +"But, Roland," she rejoins, dubiously, "I hope you'll not discharge +the bailiff until you feel that you are fully competent to the +management. You don't know much of farming yet." + +"Not know much of farming!" exclaims Roland, his eyes opening with +surprise. "After all my experience at Port Natal! Look at the pigs I +had to manage--obstinate, grunting animals--and the waggons and carts +I was put to drive--filled with calves sometimes! I'm not obliged to +take the threshing and mowing myself, you know. As to the bailiff, he +shall stay on until you send him away, if it's two years to come." + +She bends her blushing face a little forward, plucking an early +rosebud. Roland takes it from her and puts it in his coat. On her +finger flashes a valuable diamond ring, the pledge of their +engagement. + +"We won't have a frying-pan in the house, Annabel. I can't bear to see +one since that failure at Port Natal." + +She turns her laughing eyes on him. Roland honestly thinks they are +the truest, sweetest, best the world ever contained, and feels he can +never be thankful enough that he is to call them his. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. +CONCLUSION. + + +The summer and the day were alike on the wane. It was the end of July, +and a dull evening. Mr. Greatorex was sitting alone in the coming +twilight, in the large and handsome dining-room, where we first saw +him at the beginning of this history. Haggard he had looked then +waiting to hear the particulars of his favourite nephew's death; far +more haggard he looked now, for the truth in regard to it was at +length disclosed to him. + +He wore deep mourning. The son, whose appearance of ill health had of +late given him so much concern, was dead: Bede. Alas! it was not +illness of body that had ailed Bede Greatorex, and turned his days to +one ever-moving, never-ceasing tumultuous sea of misery, but that far +worse affliction, illness of mind. In bodily sickness there may arise +intervals of light, when the suffering is not felt so keenly, or the +heavenly help is nearer for support; in mental sickness, grave as +Bede's was, such intervals never come. + +After quitting home at the turn of Christmas, and travelling for a +month or two hither and thither, Bede settled down in a remote French +town. There was a very small colony of English in it, and an English +chaplain, who did the duty for nothing. Bede had not intended to make +it a permanent halting place, but his weakness increased greatly, and +he seemed never willing to attempt another move onwards. Mrs. Bede +grumbled woefully: she called the town a desert and their lodgings a +barn: truth to say, the rooms were spacious and had as good as nothing +in them. She amused herself--such amusement as it was--by taking +drives in the early spring freshness, and talking French, for +improvement, with a fashionable Parisian femme de chambre, whom she +had found herself lucky enough to engage. In June, Bede died: and the +date of his death happened, by a rather singular coincidence, to be +that of Roland Yorke's wedding day. But that can pass. + +With Bede's death, a month ago now, things in the office had undergone +some fresh arrangements. Frank Greatorex was his father's sole partner +in the practice. Frank was soon to bring home his wife and it was to +be hoped she would make a happier home of the dwelling than its late +mistress had done. There could be little doubt of it: and Mr. +Greatorex stood a fair chance of regaining some of his domestic +comforts. The prospects of Bede's widow were not flourishing. Bede had +not left a shilling behind him; a little debt, in fact, instead; that +is, _she_ was in debt: and the bills for his funeral and other +incidental expenses, had come over to Mr. Greatorex. There had been no +marriage settlement on Louisa Joliffe: she was now left to the mercy +of her father-in-law: and though a generous man by nature and habit, +Mr. Greatorex was not showing himself generous in this. In a cool, +business-like letter, conveyed to her personally by a trustworthy +clerk, Mr. Greatorex had informed her that henceforward she would be +allowed two hundred pounds a year. One hundred pounds in addition he +made her a present gift of. The clerk, despatched with the letter and +money, was Mr. Brown, who had entirely resumed his name of Winter: +the office, not getting into the new habit readily, usually called +him Mr. Brown-Winter. Mr. Winter was commissioned to discharge the +above-mentioned bills, and to see a stone placed over the grave, the +inscription for which had been written down by Mr. Greatorex. It was +short as might be: only the following words, with the date of death. + + + BEDE GREATOREX. + + AGED THIRTY-NINE. + + "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden." + + +Mr. Winter had executed his charges, and was back again. The clerks +heard with very little surprise that he was to be promoted amidst +them: the confidential manager in future under Mr. Greatorex and his +son; one whom the office would have to look up to as a master. Rumour +went that Mr. Winter was about to become a qualified solicitor: not +from any view of setting up for himself, but that he might be more +efficient for his duties in the house of Greatorex and Greatorex. His +salary would be handsome: it had been already considerably augmented +since the month of January last. Mr. Winter had taken a small, pretty +house, and would, soon bring a wife home to it: Alletha Rye was to +change her name to Alletha Winter. The clerks in general looked upon +it that Mr. Winter's promotion took its rise in his undoubted business +merit and capacity: but in point of fact it was owing to a few lines +written by Bede to his father. + +"The man is of sterling merit: he has forgotten self in striving +patiently to benefit and shield me: reward him for my sake. I am sure +he will repay in faithfulness all you can do for him." + +Little more than this did Bede say; not a word as to the nature of +what the benefit or the shielding had been. Mr. Greatorex knew now, +for a revelation had been made to him through Judge Kene. Bede, only +the day before his death, had posted a letter to Sir Thomas Kene, one +that he had spent a week in writing, getting to it at intervals. + +The anguish that communication, and other things, brought to Mr. +Greatorex, was very sharp still. He was feeling it as he sat there in +the evening twilight. Bede's death he had, in one sense, almost ceased +to mourn: knowing now what a happy release from mental pain it must +have been. But he could not think with the smallest patience of Bede's +wife: never again, never again. _She_ had been the primary author of +all the misery: but for her, his son--ay, and someone else, dear to +him as a son--had been, in all human probability, living now, happy, +peaceful, and playing a good and busy part on the world's stage. + +"Will you admit visitors sir?" + +"Eh! what!"--and Mr. Greatorex started up half in alarm as the servant +spoke, so deeply had he been buried in far-away thoughts. "Visitors +this evening!--no. Stay, Philip. Who are they?" + +"Sir Roland and Lady Yorke, sir." + +"Oh, I'll see them," said Mr. Greatorex. "Ask them to walk up." + +Roland and his wife, passing through London from their wedding tour, +part of which had been spent in Ireland, at Lord Carrick's, had halted +for a night at one of the hotels. + +"To see old friends," said Roland. Not that he had many to see: Mrs. +J. and Mr. Greatorex nearly comprised them. Whinny Yorke and her +children were in Wales with her mother. Gerald had sent them, "as a +temporary thing," till he could get "a bit straight." When that +desirable epoch might be expected to dawn, was hidden in the mystery +of the future. Gerald had been a good month in Whitecross Street +prison, done to death pretty nearly with his creditors' reproaches, +who used to go down in a body to abuse him when they found there was +no chance of their getting a farthing. He and his chambers had been +sold up; and altogether Gerald had come to considerable grief. Just +now he was in Paris, enjoying himself on a sum of money that Lord +Carrick had been induced to give him, and on the proceeds from an +article that he supplied twice a week to a London newspaper. He +thought himself terribly hard worked; and slightly relieved his bile +by telling everybody that his brother Roland was the greatest villain +under the sun. Roland meant to find him a post if he could, and +meanwhile took care of Winny and the little ones: Gerald quietly +ignored that. + +"Sir Roland and Lady Yorke." + +Mr. Greatorex met them with outstretched hands, giving Annabel a +fatherly kiss on her blushing face. He quite forgot her new elevation, +remembering her only as the sweet and simple girl who had made +sunshine in his house at odd moments. She looked sweet and simple +still, quite unaltered. Roland, on his part, had not attained the +smallest additional dignity: he clattered in just as of yore. They +were going to Sunny Mead on the morrow, and he began telling of his +future plans for the happy home life. + +Mr. Greatorex smiled as he listened. "I don't fancy you will give us +much work, Sir Roland, in the way of incurring debts and trouble, and +coming to us to get you clear of them," he observed. + +"No thank you, I leave that to Gerald. Mr. Greatorex," added Roland, +his eyes shining with honest light, his face meeting that of his +ex-master, "I promised Vincent when he was dying that I'd keep clear +of trouble; I as good as promised Hamill: I'd not go from my word to +_them_, you know. And, what's more, I shall never wish to." + +"I see. You will be a dead loss to us. The Yorkes in general have been +profitable clients." + +Roland took the words seriously, and his mouth fell a little. + +"I'm very sorry, sir. I--I'll give you a present every year to make up +for the deficiency, if you'll accept it. A golden inkstand, or +something of that sort." + +Mr. Greatorex looked at him with a smile, never speaking. Roland +resumed, thoroughly in earnest, his voice low. + +"It's such an awful deal of money, you see; four thousand a year, +besides a house and lots of other things. Two people could never spend +it, and if we could, we don't think it would be doing right. Annabel +and I see things alike. We mean to put aside half of our income; +against a rainy day, say; or--there are so many people who want help. +You see, Mr. Greatorex, we have both learnt to live on little. But I'm +sure I shall be sorry, if you look upon me as a loss." + +"You can repay me, Roland, better than by a golden inkstand," said Mr. +Greatorex, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Let me come +to you for a week annually when the summer roses are in bloom; and do +you tell me, year by year, that you have adhered to your proposed +simple mode of life." + +Roland was in the skies at once. "It is a bargain, mind that," he +said. "You will come to us always with the summer roses. As to a week +only, we'll talk about that." + +"And Jane shall meet you, sir," interposed Annabel with shy joy. "She +is very happy at her school; I often have letters from her. Roland and +I were thinking of having her at Christmas, if you don't mind." + +"And Nelly Channing too, if her mother will spare her," put in Roland. +"And we have talked about those three little mites in Wales. It would +be good to have the lot together, and give them a bit of pleasure. +They should have a jolly Christmas tree; and we'd get over some boxes +of lumps of delight from Turkey, by one of the P. and O. steamers; and +I'd bring them up to the waxwork. Annabel and I both love children." + +"And I hope to my heart you may have some of your own to bless you!" +rejoined Mr. Greatorex with unaccountable emotion. "To bless you when +they are young; to bless you when they--when they--shall be grown. God +grant you may never have cause to weep for them in tears of blood! +Many of earth's sorrows are hard to bear, but that is the weightiest +that Heaven can inflict upon us." + +Roland stared a little. The thing seemed nearly as incomprehensible to +his view of social life as that he should have to weep for some defect +in the moon. + +"We'd bring them up in the best way, Mr. Greatorex," was the simple +answer. "Annabel would, you may be sure, and I'd try to. I don't think +I got brought up in the best way myself: there was too much scuffling +and scrambling. Mrs. J. once said--I beg your pardon, Annabel." + +For Annabel was trying to express to Mr. Greatorex their regret at his +son's death. The strange emotion that had shaken him she knew must be +felt for Bede. + +"We are both of us very sorry, sir, for him and for you," she said. + +"My dear, you need not be," spoke Mr. Greatorex, in a low sad tone. +"His life had grown weary; and death, to him must have been like a +welcome rest at the close of day. A little sooner, a little later--what +does it matter?" + +"And for the muffs of doctors not to be able to cure him! Mr. +Greatorex, when I remember him, and Vincent Yorke, and Hamish +Channing, my respect for the medical profession does not go up. +Halloa! who's this?" broke off Roland. + +Philip was coming in with a cloud of surprise on his face, while a +rustle as of extensive petticoats might be heard in his rear. He +addressed his master with deprecation, conscious of something to tell +that might not be very agreeable. + +"It is Mrs. Bede Greatorex, sir." + +"Who?" hurriedly exclaimed Mr. Greatorex. + +"Mr. Bede's widow, sir. She has arrived with a French maid and a cab +full of boxes." + +No need to reiterate the news, for Mrs. Bede stood in view. Mr. +Greatorex seized his servant by the coat like one in alarm, and gave a +private order. + +"Keep the cab. Don't unload the boxes. Mrs. Bede Greatorex will not +remain here." + +Mrs. Bede Greatorex, a widow of a month, was not less fashionable in +appearance than when she was a wife. Rather more so, of the two. Her +dress of rich silk and crape was a model for the mode books, her hair +was wonderful to behold. A small bob of something white peeped out +atop of the chignon; looking close, it might be discovered to be an +inch of quilled net: and its wearer called it a widow's cap with all +the brass in life. + +She held out her hand to Mr. Greatorex, but he seemed not to see it. +That his resentment against this woman was one of bitterness, could +not be mistaken. Mrs. Bede did not appear to notice the coldness of +the greeting. Brushing past Annabel, she cast a rather contemptuous +look towards her, and said some slighting words. + +"What! are _you_ here again? I thought the house was rid of you." + +"This is my wife; Lady Yorke," spoke Roland in as haughty a tone as it +was possible for him to assume. "Don't forget it, if you please, Mrs. +Bede Greatorex." + +She looked from one to the other of them. That Roland had succeeded to +the family honours, she knew, but she had not heard of his marriage. +The poor young governess, whom she had put upon and made unhappy, Lady +Yorke! A moment's pause: Mrs. Bede's manner changed as if by magic, +and she kissed Annabel on both cheeks, French fashion. Nobody knew +better than she on which side her bread was buttered. + +"Ah, dear me, it's fine to be you, Annabel! What changes since we last +met. You a wife, and I a widow." + +Mr. Greatorex took an impatient step forward, as if to speed her +departure. She turned to him, speaking of her husband. + +"I think Bede might have got well if he would. I used to tell him so. +The doctors made an examination afterwards, and found, as you have +heard, that there was no specific disease whatever. He wasted away; +wasted and wasted; it was like as though there were a consuming fire +ever within him burning him away to death." + +"My goodness!" cried Roland. "Poor Bede." + +"It was most unsatisfactory: I never saw anything like it in my life +before," tartly retorted Mrs. Bede, for her husband's death had not +pleased her, and she resented it openly. Not for the loss or love of +him, but for the loss of his means. "I think he might have got well +had he struggled for it. If you'll believe me, only the day before he +died, he went out in a carriage to the post office, that he might post +a letter himself to Sir Thomas Kene." + +No one answered her, or made any comment. + +"Is my old room ready for me?" + +Mr. Greatorex, to whom the question was more particularly put, +motioned her towards the door, and moved thither himself. "I wish to +speak with you in private for a minute," he said. "Pardon me Sir +Roland, I will be back directly." + +That Mrs. Bede Greatorex had come to take the house by storm, hoping +thereby to resume her late footing in it, Mr. Greatorex knew just as +well as she. His letter to her, delivered by George Winter, was +unmistakably plain; and he did wonder at the hardihood which had +brought her hither, after its receipt. + +"You cannot have misunderstood my communication," he said to her as +they turned into the room that had once been her boudoir. "I must beg +to refer you to it. This house can never shelter you again." + +"But it must," she answered. + +"Never again; never again." + +"At least, I must stay here for some days, until I can decide where my +residence shall be," she persisted, her voice taking the unpleasant +shriek that it always took in anger. "You can't deny me that." + +Mr. Greatorex raised his hand as if to waive off the argument and the +words. "Philip shall see you to an hotel, if you feel incompetent to +drive to one with your maid," he said, slightly sarcastic. "But, under +my roof; it once sheltered in happiness my poor son; you may not +remain." + +"I was your son's wife," she passionately said. + +"I will tell you what you were to him, if you wish. I don't press it." + +"Well?" + +"His curse." + +"Thank you." + +"His curse before marriage; his curse after it." + +As he stood there, with his face of pain, speaking not in an angry +tone, but one mournfully subdued, certain items connected with the +past rose up to fill the mind of Mrs. Bede Greatorex. She was aware +then that he knew all; she had some little shame left in her, and her +very brow grew crimson. + +"I cannot imagine what you may have heard, or be suspecting," she +said, falteringly. "The past is past. I did nothing very wrong. +Nothing but what plenty of other girls do." + +"May God forgive you, Louisa Greatorex; as I know He has forgiven +_him_." + +It was surging up in her mind like angry waves, that far gone-by time, +one event replacing another. During her prolonged visit to this very +house as Louisa Joliffe, she had suffered Bede to become passionately +attached to her. Suffered?--it was she who drew him and drew him on. +She engaged herself to him privately; a solemn engagement; and Bede +acceded to her request that it should be kept secret for a time. She +did not like Bede; she was playing an utterly false part; she coveted +the good income and position that would be hers as his wife, but she +rather disliked him. Her motive in demanding that their engagement +should be concealed, was a hope that some offer more desirable might +turn up. Oh that Bede had suspected it! He looked for her to be his +wife as surely as he looked for Heaven. After her return home from her +visit, and John Ollivera, was sojourning at Helstonleigh, she played +exactly the same game over with him. Drawing him on to love her, and +engaging herself to him in private. She liked him, but she did not +like to have to wait an indefinite number of years, until the young +barrister should find himself in a position to marry. Which of the two +she would eventually have chosen, was a matter that must remain in +uncertainty for ever; most likely (she acknowledged so to herself) +Bede and his wealth. Things went on smoothly enough, she corresponding +ardently with both of them in secret, until the time of the March +assizes--so often told of--and the fatal night when Bede Greatorex +came down to Helstonleigh on a mission to his cousin. The contretemps, +the almost certainty of discovery, the very probable fear that she +should lose both her lovers, nearly drove Louisa out of her senses. +That something in connection with it had passed between Bede and his +cousin, she knew from Bede's manner that evening at her mother's; how +much, she did not dare to ask. The following morning, when the news +was brought to her that Mr. Ollivera had destroyed himself, she felt +like a guilty woman. Whatever might have been the mystery of the +death: whether he had really committed suicide, or whether Bede had +shot him in the passion of his hot Spanish blood--and it was +impossible but that she should have her latent doubts--she was the +primary cause; and she knew it, and felt it. Had she gone out and +killed him herself, she could not have felt it more. She became aware +of another thing--that Bede Greatorex, searching amidst the effects of +the dead on the following day, must have found her love-letters: more +impassioned letters than she was wont to write to _him_. Bede did not +visit her again during his stay at Helstonleigh, and she would not +have dared to seek him. Some months later they met by accident in +London: were thrown together three or four times. Bede renewed his +offer of marriage, and she accepted him at once; the doubt in her +mind, as to the part he might have taken in John Ollivera's death, +never having been solved. She conveniently ignored it, for the glowing +prospect of an establishment was all in all. But what sort of a wife +did she make him?--how much did Bede, in his chivalric devotion, have +to bear? She alone knew; she knew it now as she stood there; and her +attempt to carry it off with a high hand to Mr. Greatorex failed +signally. If ever the true sense of her sin should be brought home by +Heaven to Louisa Greatorex, its weight, as connected with the +treatment of her husband, would be well-nigh greater than she could +bear. A curse to him before marriage; a curse to him after: Mr. +Greatorex had well said it. + +"Am I to starve in future, that you won't give me a home?" she burst +forth, driving other thoughts away from her. "What's two hundred a +year? How am I to live?" + +"My recommendation to you was, that you should live in Boulogne; with +or near your mother," Mr. Greatorex answered calmly. "The two hundred +pounds will be amply sufficient for that." + +"Two hundred pounds!" she retorted, rudely. "I shall spend that on my +dress." + +"As you please, of course. It is the sum that will be paid you in +quarterly instalments of fifty pounds, as long as I live. At my death, +the half of it only would be secured to you. Should you marry again, +the payments would altogether cease. All this I stated to you in my +letter: I repeat it now. Not another shilling will you receive from +me--in life, or after death." + +She saw her future; saw it all laid out before her as on a map; and +her face took a blank look, betraying mortification and despair. No +more ravishing toilettes or French waiting maids; no more costly +dinner-givings, or magnificent kettle-drums. Mrs. Bede Greatorex and +society must henceforth live tolerably far apart. The home she had so +despised, this that she was now being turned from, would be a very +palace compared with the lodgings in Boulogne. + +"To prolong this interview will not be productive of further result," +spoke Mr. Greatorex, taking a step towards the door. "I must beg to +remind you that friends are waiting for me." + +"And my clothes, that I left here? And the ornaments that were mine?" + +"Everything belonging to you has been packed ready for removal. The +cases shall be all sent to whatever place you may name." + +She turned away without another word. Mr. Greatorex rang the bell. +Outside, sitting underneath one of the white statues, near the small +conservatory, was the French maid, inwardly railing against the want +of politeness of these misérable Anglishe. Trusty Philip had warned +her that she need not go up higher. + +The cab drove away with them, and Mr. Greatorex returned to the +dining-room with a relieved heart. + +"She is done with at last, thank Heaven! Let us have tea together, +Roland," he added, with a hearty smile. "Lady Yorke will take off her +bonnet, and make it for us; as she did when she was my little friend +Annabel Channing." + + + * * * * * * + + +_Copy of the letter received by Judge Kene from Bede Greatorex_. + +"As you know so much, Sir Thomas, I owe it to you and to myself to +afford some further explanation. You have shown yourself a true +friend: add to the obligation, by imparting the details I now write to +Henry William Ollivera. + +"When I was despatched to Helstonleigh on that fatal mission, I was +engaged to be married to Louisa Joliffe, and loved her passionately. +The engagement had existed several months, but it was at her request +kept a secret to ourselves. After delivering the message and business +I was charged with to John, we sat on, in his room, talking of +indifferent matters. I said that I should spend the evening with the +Joliffes: John laughed a little, and said perhaps he should. One word +led to another, and at last he told me, premising it must be in +confidence, that he was engaged to Louisa. I thought he was joking; my +answer annoyed him; and he went on to say things about Louisa's love +for him and their future marriage that nearly drove me wild. What, I +hardly know now. It seemed to me that he had treacherously stepped in +to strive to take my bride from me, to win her for himself, my one +little ewe lamb. We recriminated on each other: she had deceived us +both, but neither of us suspected it then: and we felt something like +rival tiger cats; at least I know I did. Whenever my Spanish blood got +up I was a madman--as you may remember, Kene, for you saw me so once +or twice in earlier days--I was nothing else that wicked evening. At +some taunt of his, or it sounded like one to me, I took up the pistol, +that lay on the table underneath my hand, and fired it at him. Before +Heaven, where I shall so soon stand, I declare that I had no +deliberate intention of killing him. I did not know whether the pistol +was loaded or not. I do not even think I knew what I was doing, or +that I had caught up the pistol: in my mad rage I was conscious of +nothing. The shot killed him instantaneously, even in the midst of his +cry. I cried out too--with horror at what I had done; my passion faded +and I stood still as he was. Before I crossed the step or two to his +succour, I saw that he was dead. How horribly I have repented since +that I did not fling open the door and call out for assistance, none, +save myself, can know. Self-preservation lies instinctively within us +all, and I suppose that stopped me. Oh, the false coward that I have +since ever called myself!--the years of concealment and misery it +would have saved All I thought of then, was--to get away. A short +while I listened, but no sound told that any one had been within +earshot; I softly opened the door to escape, putting out my head first +to reconnoitre; and--found myself nearly face to face with a man. He +stood on the stairs in an attitude of listening, and our eyes met in +the gas-light. I never forgot his; they seemed to shine out from a +mass of black hair; those same eyes afterwards puzzled my memory for +years. When the eyes of my subsequent clerk, Mr. Brown, had used to +strike some unpleasant chord on my memory, but what I could not +fathom, I never connected them with those other eyes; for Brown had +put off his disguise then, and looked entirely another person. Ah, +Kene! don't you see the obligation I lie under to this man, George +Winter? Not at that moment did he know I had committed murder, but in +a short period of time, as soon as the newspapers supplied details of +the night's doings, he could but become aware of it. Had a doubt +remained on his mind, when he entered our office and knew me for Bede +Greatorex, the thing must have been made clear to him as daylight. To +shield me he has remained under a cloud himself: I hope my father will +reward him. Even when he was giving his evidence before you and the +rest, he told a lie to save me. For he said that when he saw the face +at the door it was _after_ the departure of Mr. Bede Greatorex. It was +my face he saw, Kene; no other. All through these years he has watched +my misery; and in his great compassion for what he knew my sufferings +must be, has been silently lightening life to me where he could. But, +to go back to the time. + +"I should think we gazed at each other for the space of half a minute, +the man on the stairs and I: the fright of seeing someone there nearly +paralyzed me; and then I went in again and shut the door. It was +perhaps the sight of him that caused me to attempt to throw the +suspicion off myself: certainly I had not thought of it before. I put +the pistol on the carpet by the chair, as if it had fallen from John's +right hand; and next, looking about on the table, I found the +unfinished letter, and added the lines you know of. I seemed to be +doing it in a dream; that it was not myself but somebody else, and all +in a desperate hurry, for I grew afraid of stopping. Then it occurred +to me to put out the lamp; I don't know why; and, upon that, I went +out resolutely, for I did not like the dark. Luck seemed to be against +me. As I opened the door this second time, some young man (not the +first) was passing by. Instinct caused me to turn round and make +believe to be speaking to John. What words I really said, I should +never have remembered but for hearing the young man, Alfred Jones, +repeat them at the coroner's inquest. They served me more than I +thought: for Alfred Jones unconsciously took up the natural +supposition that John was also speaking to me; this version went forth +to the public, and it was assumed that what happened, happened after +my departure. There's no doubt that it was the chief element in +throwing suspicion off me. He showed me out of the house, and +thenceforward I had to try and act the part of an innocent man. I went +to the Star and Garter and drank some brandy-and-water: I went thence +to Mrs. Joliffe's: how I did it all, with that horrible thing upon me, +I have never known. I said a few cautious words to Louisa, and by her +answers, I felt sure that John's boast had been (at least in part) a +vain one. As I returned up High Street, some tradesman was standing +just within his side-door. He did not know I saw him. Halting, I +looked at John Ollivera's windows, just opposite, and said something +to the effect that John must have gone to bed--all for the man to hear +me. Just afterwards I met you, Kene,--do you remember it? You were +going to call on John, but I said he had gone to bed and the people of +the house, too, I supposed, as there was no light to be seen. I shrank +from the discovery, and would fain have put it off for ever. What a +night that was for me! As I had stirred the tea at Mrs. Joliffe's, as +I stirred the brandy-and-water at the hotel, John's face seemed to be +in the liquid, staring up at me. In the dark of the bedroom, after the +candle had burnt out, I saw him in his chair, just as I had left him. +I had not dared to ask for a night-light, lest it might excite +suspicion; how could I answer for it that the hotel would not get to +learn I was not in the habit of burning one? + +"You know the rest: the discovery and the inquest that followed. Did I +act my part well, Kene? I suppose so, by the result. That day--the +first--you were with me when we examined John's desk: it was advised +that I should look over his letters for any clue that perhaps they +might show to the motive of his self-inflicted death. The large bundle +of letters, Kene, came, I found, from Louisa Joliffe, and poor John's +was no vain boast: she had been all to him that she had professed to +be to me, and a traitor to both. + +"Why did I marry her, you will naturally ask. Ah, why! why! Because my +love for her fooled me into it: because, if you will, I was mad. When +we met again, months afterwards, the passion that I thought I had +killed within me, rose up with ten-fold force, and I yielded to it. To +do so was not much less sinful (looking at it as I look now) than the +other and greater crime. I saw it even as I stood with her before the +altar, I saw it afterwards clearer and clearer. But I loved her even +in spite of my better judgment; I love her even yet: and I have +striven to do my duty by her in all indulgence, to shield her from the +cares of the world. + +"And there's my life's history. Oh, Kene, if I have been more sinful +than other men, my merciful God knows what my expiation has been. Can +you even faintly picture it to yourself? From a few minutes after the +breath went out of poor John's body, my punishment set in. It was only +fear just at first; it was the bitterest remorse afterwards that ever +made a wreck of mortal man. I am not a murderer by nature, and John +and I were dear friends. My days have been one long, wearing penance: +regret for him and his shortened life, dread of my crime's discovery; +one or the other filling every moment: remorse and repentance, +repentance and remorse: and that it has been so is owing to Heaven's +mercy. Not an hour of the day or night, but I would gladly have given +up my own life to restore his. After the first confused horror had +passed, I should have declared the truth at the time but for my +mother's sake: in her state of health it would have killed her. When +she died, the time had gone by for it: I had my father and my wife to +consider later, and remained perforce silent. My father has thought my +bodily health failed: in one sense so it did, for I have been wasting +away from the first, dying slowly inch by inch. + +"And that's all, Kene. When you shall have heard news of my death--it +will be with you very close upon this letter--disclose the whole to +Henry William Ollivera. With regard to my father, I leave the matter +to you. If he in the slightest degree suspects me--and I can but think +he must, after Winter's confession, and from the easy acquiescence he +gave to my coming on the Continent for an indefinite period--then tell +him the whole. Heaven bless you all, and grant you the peace that can +spring alone of Jesus Christ's atonement! I have dared to think it +mine for some little time now. + +"BEDE GREATOREX." + + +When the tidings of Bede's death reached him, Sir Thomas Kene went out +to seek an interview with Mr. Ollivera. The clergyman read the letter, +and bent his head in prolonged silence. + +"After all, I suppose John's grave will have to remain undisturbed," +spoke the Judge. "Winter cleared his memory." + +"Yes; better so, perhaps," was the slow, thoughtful reply. "If I had +never before been thankful that I read the burial service over him, I +should be so now. You see, I was right, Kene. God be merciful to us +all, for we are all miserable sinners!" + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Roland Yorke, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58086 *** |